Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Egg Wash

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I've just finished washing my hands and face with an egg yolk. I DON'T KNOW, DON'T ASK ME; I'M REALLY, REALLY HIGH RIGHT NOW.

(For whatever reason I "wash" my hands with ingredients when MAGIC cooking; when the egg broke crazy and the white (I DIDN'T SEE A WHITE, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE THE YOLK WAS STUCK TO THE INSIDE OF THE SHELL, WHICH IS WHY I GOT SOME ON MY FACE BECAUSE I SMELLED MY HANDS, AFTER, TO SEE IF IT WAS OFF) disappeared I had slippery, liquid gold in my hands and I thought OH SHIT! CAN'T LET THIS GET AWAY, BETTER WASH AND RUB IT ALL IN! and before I knew it I had massaged it into my hands, my forearms and my face. After striping off every gelatinous layer (LIKE AN EASTER CHICK, BABY, FRESH AND NEW AND FLUFFY AND YOUNG) with warmish water I buried my face into a starched kitchen towel catching, just for a second, a scorpion emerging from its watery home and crawling onto land underneath the light of a crescent moon.)

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(OH, LORD, IT'S GOING TO BE ONE OF //THOSE// NIGHTS, ISN'T IT?)

APRIL FOOLS DAY

FUCKJESUSNO. DON'T FUCKING TELL ME IT'S GOING TO FUCKING SNOW ON APRIL THE FUCKING FIRST; THAT SHIT AIN'T FUNNY. (I'M SO NOT LAUGHING. NOT EVEN //SLIGHTLY//.)

Oh, Letter "A"!

I haven't listened to or heard Atari Baby since that one (YES, THAT ONE) New Year's Eve. Going alphabetically through my 80s MP3s I faltered over A Victory of Love but somehow managed to stay resolute and push forward. (No going back once you've opened the Alphaville Pandora's box...)

Fuck, has it really been over two years since that night? (YES, THAT NIGHT.) Has it really been THAT long since I last blinded the world with screaming white light? (OH, LORD, //THAT// NIGHT.)

A second into the song I felt myself coming up and in an electro(heart)beat all the hairs on my body stood on end as everything went static electric when the surging tidal movement pushed the rising intensity from the pit of my stomach into my trembling diaphragm. (Fuck, it's really been that long.)

(LOLOLOLOL, APPARENTLY "ATMOSPHERE" FOLLOWS "ATARI BABY" ALPHABETICALLY IN MY 80S FOLDER.)(AND THEN "AXEL F" FOLLOWS "ATMOSPHERE".)(OH, LETTER "A"!)

Giri

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Sept. 20th, 2007.

Wandered into the kitchen and found the book below sitting on the table. When I picked it up it opened to page 89 and my attention was immediately drawn to this passage (the first one on the page):

HAGAKURE (Book of the Samurai)
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Translated by William Scott Wilson

Lord Naoshige once said, "There is nothing felt quite so deeply as giri*. There are times when someone like a cousin dies and it is not a matter of shedding tears. But we may hear of someone who lived fifty or a hundred years ago, of whom we know nothing and who has no family ties with us whatsoever, and yet from a sense of giri* shed tears."

giri: a debt of gratitude, duty, justice, obligation, a sense of honor

Spice hallucination last night =
Putting hair up in traditional Slavic braids before going into "battle" (dressed as The Black Rabbit in Russian incarnation); clash and acceptance of ancient versus modern, and woman versus man. (i.e., Never forget the power of woman; within femininity is strength. Go into battle as a woman, as what you are. (Be "beautiful" in your bravery, be something to be worshiped - a woman who can be a woman and yet be a man in any circumstance is something that is feared and respected.) What might appear as gender weakness during war is strength; a full embrace of who and what you are, and within that acceptance a balance of both sides which grants understanding, insight, and power above the imbalanced.) <- Think about it more, you know what you want to say but you can't articulate it 100% just yet.

Spice hallucination earlier in the day =
Sex during twilight; just enough ambient light from outside to make out shapes in the dark room. Can make out Italics's basic shape, but can't make out features. Partially hidden in shadows skin absorbs color of long-sleeve t-shirt until Italics blue skinned. Red cobra w/ fangs exposed (the Cobra Command logo) comes alive and jumps out of his chest, fanning hood wide open while I straddle Italics from above. "OH SHIT," I think, "I'M HAVING SEX WITH SHIVA!" Felt completely sober during second of realization, like having a long, lucid moment in important dream.