My Dear Little Monster III
My Dear Little Monster,
your memory remains as vivid today as it was so long ago when you came into my room, truculent and yet so charming with ferocious passions. Not a day now goes by or an hour, or a second with out my reliving that experience. I say reliving because your passions turbulent as they were petrified the memory into reality. I is not then that I remember or suffer from flash backs, rather that I have not moved forward in time, that you halted my progression, that you obliterated time from my universe.
Now I can not age memory, I can not go beyond the instance of our meeting, I now inhabit space without time. I now live, breath and exist within the nightmare of the shadow of your ghost and the shadow of your shadow. I am coerced to remain while whole species are given birth, give birth and perish. A prisoner while a million big bangs occur and contract, I am trapped by life a series of mistakes that occur sequentially from beginning to end, trapped under the falling weight of my own gravity.
Even so I can not tell you that this is against my will or my destiny for I am the leader of destiny. I have been destined by a moody destiny and my will to curse you a thousand times and to be cursed by you thousands more. And this moody destiny will persist until one of us surrenders. Of course I doubt that you have the capacity to perish, you probably have many live memories behind you, ever present, ever wishing in the voids of space. My tears wet you not, pity seems unknown to you, only agonies you plant and since that is only what we know of you, it is also only what we want. Ours is a condition of forever being in love but never ever touching that love.
Last night, you only exist at night, and only in the darkest of nights and still your shadows cast shadows, last night I felt music pounding my frontal lobe, my thoughts so free and I such a slave, nothing I can not imagine so much I can not do, hammers pounding melodies to crack my cranium, the music riveted inside of my skull always pounding behind my forehead, the third eye wanted to see. I lost all of my brain cells though my neurons kept on sending messages to nowhere stations. This was a battle cry, the result were known to me, still I had to pursue them as if intent on destroying myself by destroying many lives first. If I can say it, it was as if I felt that humanity needed to suffer until they became wise enough to perish me. If I cranked the wheel of the procrustean bed or cut loose the gallows, it was they doing it to themselves. And I was only saddened, and my tragedy endure by their ability to accept suffering.
My skull never gave way, ironically my brain, the part that should have been made stronger by god was mutilated, my third eye blind still could still believe in seeing you. And real or not the experience was a repetition of our savage intercourse in which we, you, my dear little monster, and I multiplied our pains to critical infinity. Only this time the egregious proposition you were making became clear to me, anything worth having is almost impossible to acquire which was why so many had to be destroyed in order for the one that wanted to die to be murdered. You were suffocating me in order to asphyxiate yourself, and the love that I felt was the pity which endears us to the one’s we rescue.
Last night I made the sun more brilliant than an infinite number of candles, and its light coming as it did from every angle burned your shadow, banished it, and now if under intense light I can force open this third eye, I will be able to see you my dear little monster - like a naked woman’s ass. I am not to wait any more, I am coming for you, the candles have plenty of wax.
Forgetting my nightmares the next morning I explained to Adriana my dream for the aesthetic I asked her if among these lunatics of truth, if among them there was one that had pursued the sublime aesthetic. I was shown this woman behind an iron cage, I was told that her name was Bear, she wore no makeup, wild energy nature was all over her countenance, she seemed quietly mad; she would cross her cage several times in a few minutes, and always with a deliberate aim, as if clearing a jungle with her raw savageness, the cell had not destroyed her incensant spirit or her Bear dynamism, furious, impatient, tense, eyes not retrieving their persistent stare, she formed the cage more than it formed her.
Adriana told me that this was a woman that had tasted the pure aesthetic, that had seen an art without agony, a history without pain, a birth without ideology, a movement without edge. They told me she drew forms, bodies, and bodies, flesh and more flesh touching flesh, the emotion of human form was her adulation and abduction.
Bear never looked at me, not directly, I seemed to disturb her nature, Bear’s aesthetic could detect severe emotional dissidence within me, she was repulsed by my presence, she would not speak to me, she did not speak to anyone, but more so to me, I was forced to look at her with discerning interest, her hair, she had cut it very close to her ears, very, very short, it had been very long once, no one had told me, I just knew that, I had not enough matter to catch anything about her, but clearly her past was cut off from us, her large dark brown eyes from me.
I requested that I be permited to see her paintings? Only one existed! Adriana escorted me to it, she seemed to doubt the merit of Bear’s work, but I did not listen to her insensitive statements, I couldn’t hear them, my soul had detached from my body. Then my heart was placed through a movement, I was lifted by a wind, here before me was a work having nothing to do with happiness! Nothing to do with beauty! Nor hint of pain or drama, just form, forms, she could draw form with out background or prime movers, form with out borders, form in the form of an infinite introspective emotional phenomena, void of agonies, simply a dimensional emotional expression, form of feeling, form ever added upon itself and following itself judiciously but without sense or moral, or great deed, it was all genderless, spaceless, void of all four dimensions, distorting panoramas, self contained and universal, an emotional movement could express everything. I saw all this painted with such great attention to emotional detail, emotional detail that was not painted in but rather instanly created, follow these points to the part of your inner ebing being that will express the greater ebing outer being, oh gloriously I caught joy from lovely oils dance. Still I had to think that Bear could not have felt my joy, that she had felt something else, solitude quickly followed, I became aware that she did not know me, nor ever would, nor would she want to, and still I wanted share in her aesthetic which was distant, which I envied, which could ignore me because she would ignore pain, she was the future vision of all true art, the future of philosophy; the future with me not in it, if we could ever get into a painless process, we would might understand her; Upon all fatal recognition I thanked god that she was in the cage. Anything that calls for our death, certainly should be kept locked up!
Bear, what a strange name and yet so appropriate. Voraciously huge, each miovement witin her was harboring everything outside of her, and every thing inside of her was on its own complete, and greater than everything else and also accompanied by everything that was also complete, and in being greater than everything else nothing in particular. Not a thing, not a being. Adriana and I walked away from the painting. We really could not feel it to its inteneded completeness, it wasn’t us, it was something else; Bear was a child of gentle winds, predicting unpredictables, advancing utopias, poetry had served us well and we did not need heretics like her coming to tell us that there was an end to suffering, that we could even simply paint it away, and that it was not a terrible thing, or a monotone different not to feel the gamut of emotions which what is human entails, or endures. Lock up that Witch! I clamor! Lock that Witch! Lock her up!
The bars of iron went straight through her cheeks, through her flesh and out through her mouth, we were safe, safe for now; running away from the aesthetic.
Our errors continued to multiply with them our fears but our punishment never came or we never knew that we were suffering it. We are ultimately murdered by our own for we are not allowed to betray ourselves.
We hurriedly walked away trough the ever grander spaces of this complex of insanity, which somehow betrayed a greater sense of sanity than that, of those which were containing it, holding it from overflowing. And how right it was to contain them, Adriana’s people were not saving these people from the brutality of the real world, they were saving their people from a torturous reality, a reality that seemed to real to ignore, that kept on hammering away at the senses, only mad people could hold dear such reality or madness. All this was abusive, to me very abusive, but I wanted the truth because I wanted to hang destiny with it! Walking away from one insanity into another we arrived at Dr. Pneumonic.
your memory remains as vivid today as it was so long ago when you came into my room, truculent and yet so charming with ferocious passions. Not a day now goes by or an hour, or a second with out my reliving that experience. I say reliving because your passions turbulent as they were petrified the memory into reality. I is not then that I remember or suffer from flash backs, rather that I have not moved forward in time, that you halted my progression, that you obliterated time from my universe.
Now I can not age memory, I can not go beyond the instance of our meeting, I now inhabit space without time. I now live, breath and exist within the nightmare of the shadow of your ghost and the shadow of your shadow. I am coerced to remain while whole species are given birth, give birth and perish. A prisoner while a million big bangs occur and contract, I am trapped by life a series of mistakes that occur sequentially from beginning to end, trapped under the falling weight of my own gravity.
Even so I can not tell you that this is against my will or my destiny for I am the leader of destiny. I have been destined by a moody destiny and my will to curse you a thousand times and to be cursed by you thousands more. And this moody destiny will persist until one of us surrenders. Of course I doubt that you have the capacity to perish, you probably have many live memories behind you, ever present, ever wishing in the voids of space. My tears wet you not, pity seems unknown to you, only agonies you plant and since that is only what we know of you, it is also only what we want. Ours is a condition of forever being in love but never ever touching that love.
Last night, you only exist at night, and only in the darkest of nights and still your shadows cast shadows, last night I felt music pounding my frontal lobe, my thoughts so free and I such a slave, nothing I can not imagine so much I can not do, hammers pounding melodies to crack my cranium, the music riveted inside of my skull always pounding behind my forehead, the third eye wanted to see. I lost all of my brain cells though my neurons kept on sending messages to nowhere stations. This was a battle cry, the result were known to me, still I had to pursue them as if intent on destroying myself by destroying many lives first. If I can say it, it was as if I felt that humanity needed to suffer until they became wise enough to perish me. If I cranked the wheel of the procrustean bed or cut loose the gallows, it was they doing it to themselves. And I was only saddened, and my tragedy endure by their ability to accept suffering.
My skull never gave way, ironically my brain, the part that should have been made stronger by god was mutilated, my third eye blind still could still believe in seeing you. And real or not the experience was a repetition of our savage intercourse in which we, you, my dear little monster, and I multiplied our pains to critical infinity. Only this time the egregious proposition you were making became clear to me, anything worth having is almost impossible to acquire which was why so many had to be destroyed in order for the one that wanted to die to be murdered. You were suffocating me in order to asphyxiate yourself, and the love that I felt was the pity which endears us to the one’s we rescue.
Last night I made the sun more brilliant than an infinite number of candles, and its light coming as it did from every angle burned your shadow, banished it, and now if under intense light I can force open this third eye, I will be able to see you my dear little monster - like a naked woman’s ass. I am not to wait any more, I am coming for you, the candles have plenty of wax.
Forgetting my nightmares the next morning I explained to Adriana my dream for the aesthetic I asked her if among these lunatics of truth, if among them there was one that had pursued the sublime aesthetic. I was shown this woman behind an iron cage, I was told that her name was Bear, she wore no makeup, wild energy nature was all over her countenance, she seemed quietly mad; she would cross her cage several times in a few minutes, and always with a deliberate aim, as if clearing a jungle with her raw savageness, the cell had not destroyed her incensant spirit or her Bear dynamism, furious, impatient, tense, eyes not retrieving their persistent stare, she formed the cage more than it formed her.
Adriana told me that this was a woman that had tasted the pure aesthetic, that had seen an art without agony, a history without pain, a birth without ideology, a movement without edge. They told me she drew forms, bodies, and bodies, flesh and more flesh touching flesh, the emotion of human form was her adulation and abduction.
Bear never looked at me, not directly, I seemed to disturb her nature, Bear’s aesthetic could detect severe emotional dissidence within me, she was repulsed by my presence, she would not speak to me, she did not speak to anyone, but more so to me, I was forced to look at her with discerning interest, her hair, she had cut it very close to her ears, very, very short, it had been very long once, no one had told me, I just knew that, I had not enough matter to catch anything about her, but clearly her past was cut off from us, her large dark brown eyes from me.
I requested that I be permited to see her paintings? Only one existed! Adriana escorted me to it, she seemed to doubt the merit of Bear’s work, but I did not listen to her insensitive statements, I couldn’t hear them, my soul had detached from my body. Then my heart was placed through a movement, I was lifted by a wind, here before me was a work having nothing to do with happiness! Nothing to do with beauty! Nor hint of pain or drama, just form, forms, she could draw form with out background or prime movers, form with out borders, form in the form of an infinite introspective emotional phenomena, void of agonies, simply a dimensional emotional expression, form of feeling, form ever added upon itself and following itself judiciously but without sense or moral, or great deed, it was all genderless, spaceless, void of all four dimensions, distorting panoramas, self contained and universal, an emotional movement could express everything. I saw all this painted with such great attention to emotional detail, emotional detail that was not painted in but rather instanly created, follow these points to the part of your inner ebing being that will express the greater ebing outer being, oh gloriously I caught joy from lovely oils dance. Still I had to think that Bear could not have felt my joy, that she had felt something else, solitude quickly followed, I became aware that she did not know me, nor ever would, nor would she want to, and still I wanted share in her aesthetic which was distant, which I envied, which could ignore me because she would ignore pain, she was the future vision of all true art, the future of philosophy; the future with me not in it, if we could ever get into a painless process, we would might understand her; Upon all fatal recognition I thanked god that she was in the cage. Anything that calls for our death, certainly should be kept locked up!
Bear, what a strange name and yet so appropriate. Voraciously huge, each miovement witin her was harboring everything outside of her, and every thing inside of her was on its own complete, and greater than everything else and also accompanied by everything that was also complete, and in being greater than everything else nothing in particular. Not a thing, not a being. Adriana and I walked away from the painting. We really could not feel it to its inteneded completeness, it wasn’t us, it was something else; Bear was a child of gentle winds, predicting unpredictables, advancing utopias, poetry had served us well and we did not need heretics like her coming to tell us that there was an end to suffering, that we could even simply paint it away, and that it was not a terrible thing, or a monotone different not to feel the gamut of emotions which what is human entails, or endures. Lock up that Witch! I clamor! Lock that Witch! Lock her up!
The bars of iron went straight through her cheeks, through her flesh and out through her mouth, we were safe, safe for now; running away from the aesthetic.
Our errors continued to multiply with them our fears but our punishment never came or we never knew that we were suffering it. We are ultimately murdered by our own for we are not allowed to betray ourselves.
We hurriedly walked away trough the ever grander spaces of this complex of insanity, which somehow betrayed a greater sense of sanity than that, of those which were containing it, holding it from overflowing. And how right it was to contain them, Adriana’s people were not saving these people from the brutality of the real world, they were saving their people from a torturous reality, a reality that seemed to real to ignore, that kept on hammering away at the senses, only mad people could hold dear such reality or madness. All this was abusive, to me very abusive, but I wanted the truth because I wanted to hang destiny with it! Walking away from one insanity into another we arrived at Dr. Pneumonic.
posted by Ricardo Correa at
1:08 PM
