Monday, September 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
untitled...
I found this the other day scribbled on paper in my copy of Atwood's The Robber Bride. I had entirely forgotten writing it.
Smolder and shrivel
like the cigar stubs
in your father's ashtray
on the desk in his study.
Cuban cigars,
Porcelain ashtray,
Heavy Oak Desk,
Oriental Rug,
Stained with the blood of
his brain.
Discovered by your
spouse
wife
life
partner
in crime.
The scene was cleaned
and so pristine,
only his body remained on the floor,
No remnants of his brain matter
left splattered on the back of that closed door,
that he lay behind, meditating on the purpose
of death.
You come home, and ask
"Where is Father?"
"Balancing his Chakras" she replies,
"Tonight, he has opened his third eye."
Smolder and shrivel
like the cigar stubs
in your father's ashtray
on the desk in his study.
Cuban cigars,
Porcelain ashtray,
Heavy Oak Desk,
Oriental Rug,
Stained with the blood of
his brain.
Discovered by your
spouse
wife
life
partner
in crime.
The scene was cleaned
and so pristine,
only his body remained on the floor,
No remnants of his brain matter
left splattered on the back of that closed door,
that he lay behind, meditating on the purpose
of death.
You come home, and ask
"Where is Father?"
"Balancing his Chakras" she replies,
"Tonight, he has opened his third eye."
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Spirtuality...
I have never identified myself as a religious person, but I have never been able to dismiss the spiritual force, and its something I've been trying to identify for almost 10 years now, really ever since I came out as what we label a "gay man" (gender and biological sex labels were the norm for me then, and we'll keep that simple and separate...for now.) I felt, as many do, rejected by christian upbringing, and so my reaction was to sample out paganism for a while, always investing into a female divinity, a new one every week, and that ended up just slowly fading into a spiritual passivity, one that seriously questioned any existence. One thing I knew, God or whatever the hell it was, was not male. And if he was, well, color me atheist. I absolutely could not, and still will not, believe in a higher male power.
While living in Europe, the catholic churches (I was raised Catholic) always spoke to me via guilt, but more seriously, their placement of the Madonna on the hierarchy, and also the importance placed on female saints, of course they are overshadowed by the males, but Madonna was regarded very highly. I began to look at her as some kind of all-mother, something maternal, something caring, which may have stemmed from my catholic upbringing, which was spotty, and at times not really important to my family.
I was questioning things my parents themselves had never questioned, and thus was accused of hating god by my mother, which I didn't, but if god was a HE I had no use for HIM. simple.
It wasn't until what I refer to as my musical awakening, which happened when I bought a Tori Amos CD on a whim in January 2004. (It was Tales of Librarian, I thought the cover was cool). I seriously was into Tori, and had all her albums and almost all her beesides (it still lingers in my blood) in a matter of four months. Ani DiFranco, Bjork, and PJ Harvey were are also discovered shortly thereafter. It was like my own living matriarchy of sonic worship. in 2005 Amos' Beekeeper was released, along with her "auto-biography" Piece By Piece, which I just think was her random ideas sorted into a very difficult read, but editorial aside, the album, and most of the book, looked into Christian Spirituality, and woman's place in it. Through both, some research and a brilliant professor at my crummy Alabamian community college, I was able to ascertain the gnostic gospels spoke of a higher divinity, a female divinity. I saw Amos in Atlanta, GA that summer, and during an improv, that still sticks with me, she loosely referred to abortion. She said, and I paraphrase from memory;
"Girls, if the government tries to tell you what to do with your body, ask to see their mother. If
their mother says its because of God, ask to see his mother. Everybody has a mother."
Incidentally, Amos opened every concert of this tour with her song : "Original Sinsuality", and had this giant paper tree that looked like a kindergarten project, complete with an apple and a snake, erected behind her. The lyrics to the song are as follows:
There was a Garden,
in the beginning,
Before the Fall
Before Genesis.
There was a tree there,
a tree of Knowledge
Sophia would insist
You must eat of this
Original Sin?
No, I don't think so,
Original Sinsuality.
Original Sin?
No It should be,
Original Sinsuality.
Yaldaboath, Saklas, I'm calling you
Samael
You are not alone
I Say
You are not alone
In your Darkness
You are not alone baby
You are not alone
The genesis allusions are very clear, but who is Sophia? What about Yaldaboath, Saklas, Samael?
I haven't figured out how to copy and paste yet, so, I'll paraphrase. I gnostic belief, Sophia, the divine wisdom, gave birth to the (note: THE, singular, thus a separate entity) god that created the world, they both eminate from a longer line of aeons that descend from Monad, or the ultimate being. Thus, and logically, Sophia is the mother of the Christian God. Also in Gnostic belief, it was Sophia who offered Eve the fruit of knowledge in order to grant that gift, and even in the bible: "And the LORD God said "The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat, and live forever." - Genesis 3:22.
So, were Adam and Eve shunned from Eden from disobeying, or for fear of their becoming immortal? Debate rages, but I firmly believe in the old feminist cliche "Eve was framed ." She was, no question asked, and a patriarchal religious text and thus history, was formed around her misdemeanor, and Sophia forsaken, and replaced by Satan, because even a woman could not tempt another woman, and the crime was forced to fit the punishment, Eve disobeyed and did it while listening to the evilest of evils, Gods arch nemesis, another who disobeyed. The lesson in the most obvious of statements: do not disobey the patriarchy. And do not recognize a power higher then that patriarchy. Do NOT ask for their mother.
This is my belief, We are entitled to that. I believe in a higher feminine divine, one that creates, nurtures and teaches. This is gender assignment, I know, because the obvious opposition is a Male divinity that punishes and destroys, Old Testament, anybody? But I think we should refer to other divinities as well that challenge this, example, Kali Ra, who in Hinduism is in control of creation and destruction, and, while others like Shiva switch genders, Kali is almost always woman. I digress, because gender is just as messy as religion and spirituality, and more questions and debate can be spurned from A maternal divinity, such as if maternal ism is instinct, etc etc. The human mind can divide and analyze almost anything, and maybe what we personify as our higher spiritual being may be an anthromorphication into what has been programmed into ourselves by society, personal experience and education. I have always had a fear of men, have always distrusted men, and define my gender, but not biological sex, as woman (because it falls into the boxes of society places as "feminine", or "woman" so naturally, I would want a woman in the reigns. What man and woman are is something to look into for another time.
Now, after I have splurged about Tori Amos, Sophia, Eve, and Patriarchy, what did I accomplish? Did I explain anything? Did I make random points? Yes, I did, but these are the things that comfort me, and gave me an answer for the unknown. Maybe it was an answer I wanted to hear, that I would find comforting, but none the less, its my answer.
I saw Tori Amos again about a month ago in DC, on a whim because free tickets fell into my lap, and the setlist, her performance and the aura had this spiritual re-awakening for me, something sparked, and as it was the first time I encountered Amos in 2004, it was as if she was handing me an apple, giving me knowledge. But, not her as an individual, her as a vehicle for something much bigger. She has described herself as some vessel her songs come into to find an outlet, an Aeolian Harp, if you will, and maybe that is true. The entire show she played with an energy so fierce, and with improvs that connected and spanned the show, about challenging the patriarchy, about finding oneself in this mess of a world, it spoke to me, whatever it was, something was there, and as abstract and insane and tori fan zealot as it sounds, I truly felt this. During her encore, she came out and danced to the clapping in this very primitive way that instantly reminded me of Ishtar, the old Babylonian goddess of dance and sex (who I think was twisted into Mother Harlot, or The Whore Of Babylon ala Revelations. but don't quote me). I feel that those tickets didn't fall into my lap, and that I was, in a way, beckoned to this show, not to become a Toriphile again, as I was years ago, but to have faith once again in the Feminine Divine. And I found it.
While living in Europe, the catholic churches (I was raised Catholic) always spoke to me via guilt, but more seriously, their placement of the Madonna on the hierarchy, and also the importance placed on female saints, of course they are overshadowed by the males, but Madonna was regarded very highly. I began to look at her as some kind of all-mother, something maternal, something caring, which may have stemmed from my catholic upbringing, which was spotty, and at times not really important to my family.
I was questioning things my parents themselves had never questioned, and thus was accused of hating god by my mother, which I didn't, but if god was a HE I had no use for HIM. simple.
It wasn't until what I refer to as my musical awakening, which happened when I bought a Tori Amos CD on a whim in January 2004. (It was Tales of Librarian, I thought the cover was cool). I seriously was into Tori, and had all her albums and almost all her beesides (it still lingers in my blood) in a matter of four months. Ani DiFranco, Bjork, and PJ Harvey were are also discovered shortly thereafter. It was like my own living matriarchy of sonic worship. in 2005 Amos' Beekeeper was released, along with her "auto-biography" Piece By Piece, which I just think was her random ideas sorted into a very difficult read, but editorial aside, the album, and most of the book, looked into Christian Spirituality, and woman's place in it. Through both, some research and a brilliant professor at my crummy Alabamian community college, I was able to ascertain the gnostic gospels spoke of a higher divinity, a female divinity. I saw Amos in Atlanta, GA that summer, and during an improv, that still sticks with me, she loosely referred to abortion. She said, and I paraphrase from memory;
"Girls, if the government tries to tell you what to do with your body, ask to see their mother. If
their mother says its because of God, ask to see his mother. Everybody has a mother."
Incidentally, Amos opened every concert of this tour with her song : "Original Sinsuality", and had this giant paper tree that looked like a kindergarten project, complete with an apple and a snake, erected behind her. The lyrics to the song are as follows:
There was a Garden,
in the beginning,
Before the Fall
Before Genesis.
There was a tree there,
a tree of Knowledge
Sophia would insist
You must eat of this
Original Sin?
No, I don't think so,
Original Sinsuality.
Original Sin?
No It should be,
Original Sinsuality.
Yaldaboath, Saklas, I'm calling you
Samael
You are not alone
I Say
You are not alone
In your Darkness
You are not alone baby
You are not alone
The genesis allusions are very clear, but who is Sophia? What about Yaldaboath, Saklas, Samael?
I haven't figured out how to copy and paste yet, so, I'll paraphrase. I gnostic belief, Sophia, the divine wisdom, gave birth to the (note: THE, singular, thus a separate entity) god that created the world, they both eminate from a longer line of aeons that descend from Monad, or the ultimate being. Thus, and logically, Sophia is the mother of the Christian God. Also in Gnostic belief, it was Sophia who offered Eve the fruit of knowledge in order to grant that gift, and even in the bible: "And the LORD God said "The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the Tree of Life and eat, and live forever." - Genesis 3:22.
So, were Adam and Eve shunned from Eden from disobeying, or for fear of their becoming immortal? Debate rages, but I firmly believe in the old feminist cliche "Eve was framed ." She was, no question asked, and a patriarchal religious text and thus history, was formed around her misdemeanor, and Sophia forsaken, and replaced by Satan, because even a woman could not tempt another woman, and the crime was forced to fit the punishment, Eve disobeyed and did it while listening to the evilest of evils, Gods arch nemesis, another who disobeyed. The lesson in the most obvious of statements: do not disobey the patriarchy. And do not recognize a power higher then that patriarchy. Do NOT ask for their mother.
This is my belief, We are entitled to that. I believe in a higher feminine divine, one that creates, nurtures and teaches. This is gender assignment, I know, because the obvious opposition is a Male divinity that punishes and destroys, Old Testament, anybody? But I think we should refer to other divinities as well that challenge this, example, Kali Ra, who in Hinduism is in control of creation and destruction, and, while others like Shiva switch genders, Kali is almost always woman. I digress, because gender is just as messy as religion and spirituality, and more questions and debate can be spurned from A maternal divinity, such as if maternal ism is instinct, etc etc. The human mind can divide and analyze almost anything, and maybe what we personify as our higher spiritual being may be an anthromorphication into what has been programmed into ourselves by society, personal experience and education. I have always had a fear of men, have always distrusted men, and define my gender, but not biological sex, as woman (because it falls into the boxes of society places as "feminine", or "woman" so naturally, I would want a woman in the reigns. What man and woman are is something to look into for another time.
Now, after I have splurged about Tori Amos, Sophia, Eve, and Patriarchy, what did I accomplish? Did I explain anything? Did I make random points? Yes, I did, but these are the things that comfort me, and gave me an answer for the unknown. Maybe it was an answer I wanted to hear, that I would find comforting, but none the less, its my answer.
I saw Tori Amos again about a month ago in DC, on a whim because free tickets fell into my lap, and the setlist, her performance and the aura had this spiritual re-awakening for me, something sparked, and as it was the first time I encountered Amos in 2004, it was as if she was handing me an apple, giving me knowledge. But, not her as an individual, her as a vehicle for something much bigger. She has described herself as some vessel her songs come into to find an outlet, an Aeolian Harp, if you will, and maybe that is true. The entire show she played with an energy so fierce, and with improvs that connected and spanned the show, about challenging the patriarchy, about finding oneself in this mess of a world, it spoke to me, whatever it was, something was there, and as abstract and insane and tori fan zealot as it sounds, I truly felt this. During her encore, she came out and danced to the clapping in this very primitive way that instantly reminded me of Ishtar, the old Babylonian goddess of dance and sex (who I think was twisted into Mother Harlot, or The Whore Of Babylon ala Revelations. but don't quote me). I feel that those tickets didn't fall into my lap, and that I was, in a way, beckoned to this show, not to become a Toriphile again, as I was years ago, but to have faith once again in the Feminine Divine. And I found it.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Subdivision.
As I write my ventures into fiction more and more everyday, I find myself feeling subdivided. The current work I have has a very large cast and is told from multiple view points, and I have consciously tried my hardest to step into each character with their own voice, their own being, and if I'm not feeling a character, writing doesn't happen. Its a state of mind, but I begin to wonder, when does the creator end and creation begin? Sometimes I feel subdivided by these characters, as if stepping into them have made some persona for my brain to step into, more chaos in my head. Sometimes I feel like I have this Juliet of the Spirits door inside my skull that they all enter and exit through on their own accord. Have I spread myself too thin? Where am I amongst these fictions?
Twenty Three Years of Solitude
I turned Twenty Three yesterday. I started a blog today, after I saw a friend had one.
I turned Twenty Three yesterday.
23 on the 23rd.
My New Year's Resolution for 2009 was to create a new me by my birthday, 8 months and 23 days was enough to give birth to a re-formed person, correct? A bit pre-mature, but I planned to have a natural birth, maybe in the bath, with Shiraz and Miles Davis in the background. A bit pretentious? That's me, a bit pretentious. I cannot rid my new self of that genetic pre-disposition. And, now I sit, 23, and wonder, did I succeed? did I create a new me?
Question: Why a re-birth? What was so horrid about me that I needed to annihilate my former self and create a new me? What have I done differently? I started smoking pot. I withdrew from college. I photograph dolls. I continue to write. And that's about it. I'm as bitter as ever, as distrusting as ever, and still feel as ancient as ever. I talk to my older friends, mostly, they are all older, and feel so less then...their attitudes promise there is more for me, more hardship in the future, more snakes on Medusa's scalp to tangle and tango with in the mirror.
My first blog, which died years ago, was one of teenage angst and unrequited love. How simple, how sappy. How easy to relate to and hilarious in its simplicity. I long for that simplicity back. I long to be able to focus on one minor thing and make that my wound, but there are so many wounds, the bullets are still flying and the gauze of therapy and drugs have become blood soaked and caked with mud by their sheer gravity, and they have fallen, that shroud of immaculate health, into the trenches below my neon colored sneakers.
So many things need to be opened, its as overwhelming as a bountiful Christmas that wasn't asked for. My thoughts refuse to be those practical and hideous argyle socks freshly fallen from the knitting needles, nothing of use, all garbage and all wanting to be released from their numerous packages with botched wrap jobs.
The purge has begun, regardless of the success of new persona-bearing.
I turned Twenty Three yesterday.
23 on the 23rd.
My New Year's Resolution for 2009 was to create a new me by my birthday, 8 months and 23 days was enough to give birth to a re-formed person, correct? A bit pre-mature, but I planned to have a natural birth, maybe in the bath, with Shiraz and Miles Davis in the background. A bit pretentious? That's me, a bit pretentious. I cannot rid my new self of that genetic pre-disposition. And, now I sit, 23, and wonder, did I succeed? did I create a new me?
Question: Why a re-birth? What was so horrid about me that I needed to annihilate my former self and create a new me? What have I done differently? I started smoking pot. I withdrew from college. I photograph dolls. I continue to write. And that's about it. I'm as bitter as ever, as distrusting as ever, and still feel as ancient as ever. I talk to my older friends, mostly, they are all older, and feel so less then...their attitudes promise there is more for me, more hardship in the future, more snakes on Medusa's scalp to tangle and tango with in the mirror.
My first blog, which died years ago, was one of teenage angst and unrequited love. How simple, how sappy. How easy to relate to and hilarious in its simplicity. I long for that simplicity back. I long to be able to focus on one minor thing and make that my wound, but there are so many wounds, the bullets are still flying and the gauze of therapy and drugs have become blood soaked and caked with mud by their sheer gravity, and they have fallen, that shroud of immaculate health, into the trenches below my neon colored sneakers.
So many things need to be opened, its as overwhelming as a bountiful Christmas that wasn't asked for. My thoughts refuse to be those practical and hideous argyle socks freshly fallen from the knitting needles, nothing of use, all garbage and all wanting to be released from their numerous packages with botched wrap jobs.
The purge has begun, regardless of the success of new persona-bearing.
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