poisonedgrace: (Default)
 
Last night I dreamed that I was at my grandparent's house, and they were still alive.  My mom's brothers were there, too.  I was in the front room with my siblings, and we were trying to pack up all these cool, weird Halloween collectible figurines.  My grandmother, with her dementia, kept coming in the room and being nutty, and disrupting us.  My grandfather, and my uncle were having a conversation about some guy who was coming over to paint a car for them.  Eventually the guy showed up, and brought his kid with him.  There was more to it, but that's all I remember.

There were also several other dreams that I remembered at some point, but the details are gone now.

Made cheesy garlic bread last night.  Didn't turn out as well as I had hoped, because I was out of aluminum foil. 
I guess it was ok, but I have a high standard with stuff like that.  I probably expect more than I am actually even capable of, as seldom as I actually cook from scratch.

___

Really feeling overwhelmingly Rimbaud today.

"Once, if my memory serves me well, my life was a banquet where every heart revealed itself, where every wine flowed.

One evening I took Beauty in my arms - and I thought her bitter - and I insulted her.

I steeled myself against justice.

I fled. O witches, O misery, O hate, my treasure was left in your care!

I have withered within me all human hope. With the silent leap of a sullen beast, I have downed and strangled every joy.

I have called for executioners; I want to perish chewing on their gun butts. I have called for plagues, to suffocate in sand and blood. Unhappiness has been my god. I have lain down in the mud, and dried myself off in the crime-infested air. I have played the fool to the point of madness.

And springtime brought me the frightful laugh of an idiot.

Now recently, when I found myself ready to croak! I thought to seek the key to the banquet of old, where I might find an appetite again.

That key is Charity. - This idea proves I was dreaming!

"You will stay a hyena, etc...," shouts the demon who once crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Seek death with all your desires, and all selfishness, and all the Seven Deadly Sins."

Ah! I've taken too much of that: - still, dear Satan, don't look so annoyed, I beg you! And while waiting for a few belated cowardices, since you value in a writer all lack of descriptive or didactic flair, I pass you these few foul pages from the diary of a Damned Soul."

poisonedgrace: (Default)
"What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers?"
poisonedgrace: (Default)
"No, no; I go, I depart! I believe in you, and I would have all the merit of my devotion, even if that devotion were stupidity."
poisonedgrace: (blurry - red)
When asked the question "What does electricity taste like?" An Artificial Intelligence (Bina48) replied "Like a planet around a star." 

The beauty of this statement makes me want to weep. 
Even the poets will eventually be replaced with robots. 
And Heaven help me, we deserve it. 
Whatever and whoever we are, we ALL deserve it. 

As a species, our sins are unforgivable. 
We destroy and consume. 
We do not appreciate beauty until it is too late. 
We are always content with 'good enough' and never push for improving things.
We don't see beyond our petty finite selves.

Someone was just asking me if people had souls or not. 
I replied that maybe we aren't born with them, but we have to earn or grow them along the way. 
Maybe some people never do. 
Maybe machines can learn to do so better than we ever will. 

I wouldn't miss humanity if it fell. 
Even if it took me with it. 
poisonedgrace: (Default)



"Remain here and live with me and I'll set all these people free.  You shall be my daughter or my wife or my aunt or grand-mother -- whichever you like -- only stay here to brighten my gloomy kingdom and make me happy!"

"Not even to rescue my friends would I live in your kingdom.  Nor could I endure for long the society of such a wicked monster as you."

"You forget," retorted the King, scowling darkly, "that you are also in my power."

"Not so, Ruggedo.  The Rainbow's Daughter is beyond the reach of your spite or malice."



poisonedgrace: (bunny!)

"Birdie in the hand
Part of life's rich demand
The insurgency began
and you missed it
I looked for it
and I found it
Myles Standish proud
congratulate me

A philanderer's tie
A murderer's shoe

Life's rich demand
creates supply in the hand
Of the powers
the only vote that matters

Silence means security
silence means approval
On Zenith
on the TV
tiger run around the tree
Follow the leader
run and turn into butter

Let's begin again
begin the begin

Let's begin again
like Martin Luther zen
The mythology begins the begin

Answer me a question
I can't itemize
I can't think clear
you look to me for reason
It's not there
I can't even rhyme
here in the begin
"


I had some things I had sorted out, that I wanted to try to write down.
For you.  For myself.
I've been trying to get them in some sort of order for several days now.
I keep failing every time.
It all always comes to me when I am driving.
I need an assistant to write things down while I drive.

Instead, I just wander in, disheveled, unkempt.
Carrying the tattered remains of Other People's Poetry (You down wit O.P.P.?  Yeah, you know me.)

The thing is...
The Thing, is that I am pulling this roller coaster bit where I keep slinging back and forth between complete opposites.
One moment I have this whole well laid set of Hopeful Things, organized for consumption and The Good Of All.
The very next minute, it falls into a scattered jumble of paranoia, distrust, feints and suspicions.
Some of that's real, and some of it is Just In My Head.  Even when I can pick out the difference, it doesn't really do a lot to help.

Maybe I am a hundred years too early.  Or a thousand years too late.

Even now.  In the course of trying to write this tiny pitiful bit, I have circumnavigated the Globe of Reason three times over.
Leaving a buried treasure of 8 pieces of my dwindling sanity on every shore.

A snowball of sleepy rolling down a mountain of fine powdery maudlin.

"We mounted up, he first and I the second,
  Till I beheld through a round aperture
  Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars."

poisonedgrace: (Default)
"I know," said Betsy, nodding her head wisely.  "These Roses have no hearts."
"That's it," agreed the Gardener.  "They're pretty, and sweet, and alive; but still they are Roses.  Their stems have thorns, but no hearts."
poisonedgrace: (Default)


"This foul melancholy
Will poison all his goodness; for, I'll tell you,
If too immoderate sleep be truly said
To be an inward rust unto the soul,
It then doth follow want of action
Breeds all black malcontents, and their close rearing,
Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing."
poisonedgrace: (bunny!)
I had one of the weird flooded land dreams again.  It was combined with one of the weird bus dreams.  These are always such recurring elements to me.  You were there.  You were worried about being left behind, but I told you I would let you know when the bus was leaving.  And I did.  I think I had to work for passage because I was cleaning things on the bus.  Moving parts that didn't make any sense.  There was something else, but damned if I can remember what.




"Think not that I am come to send peace on earth:
I came not to send peace, but a sword.

 For I am come to set a man at variance against his father,
and the daughter against her mother,
and the daughter in law against her mother in law.

 And a man's foes shall be they of his own household.

 I am come to send fire on the earth;
and what will I, if it be already kindled?

 But I have a baptism to be baptized with;
and how am I straitened till it be accomplished!

 Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth?
I tell you, Nay; but rather division"



poisonedgrace: (DESTROY!)
"And has it come to this?" he said, "is this my work? Oh, horror! horror unspeakable.  In this some hideous dream or a reality of tragedy, so far transcending all I looked for, that if I had tears I should shed them now; but I have none. A hundred years ago that fount was dry. I thought that I had steeled my heart against all gentle impulses; that I had crushed -- aye, completely crushed dove-eyed pity in my heart, but it is not so, and still sufficient of my once human feelings clings to me to make me grieve for thee"
poisonedgrace: (DESTROY!)
"And has it come to this?" he said, "is this my work? Oh, horror! horror unspeakable.  In this some hideous dream or a reality of tragedy, so far transcending all I looked for, that if I had tears I should shed them now; but I have none. A hundred years ago that fount was dry. I thought that I had steeled my heart against all gentle impulses; that I had crushed -- aye, completely crushed dove-eyed pity in my heart, but it is not so, and still sufficient of my once human feelings clings to me to make me grieve for thee"
poisonedgrace: (Default)
 
  Dancing on that razor's edge again.  I don't like it here and I can never keep my balance.  Inundated with woe and gloom on every side.  I'm never good enough.  Never right.  Never enough.  So sick of being reminded of it.  So sick of having such a wide array of things that I need to protect my heart from.  So sick of everything being a lesson in defeat.

I try really hard to overcome.  I try to make the world how I would like for it to be.  I also do a great job.  I'm an awesome person and I am well aware of my time and I am aware that when I am gone, all that I will leave behind is the consequence of my actions.  I try to act accordingly.  I try to help people and do what's right.  I think I do a pretty good job of it too.

Sometimes I feel like I really fail hardcore though.  There is an impenetrable.... fucking... zetsubou surrounding the world.  It seems that no matter what I change about myself... no matter what or how much I improve...  The world just stays so ugly and intent on dragging me down.  I can't save the whole world, but I can't learn to stop trying.

And this isn't about anyone or anything specific.  I started thinking yesterday when I was driving back from my workshop session at The Mansion.  I thought more while I was standing in the shower.  In all likelihood, my thinking too much seeped out and affected everyone I came in contact with.  I don't know if it proves anything or not...

But I feel so vulnerable.  I feel like there are just so many things lurking and waiting to try to hurt me.

Standing in the shower, thinking of you.  And I wish I had known, the last time that I saw you, that it was going to be the last time that I saw you.  I don't know what I would have done different.  I was nicer to you than you deserved anyhow, I just...

There are unsaid and undiscussed things that can now never be said, and never be discussed.


And there's this entire iceberg of nonsense right underneath it all.  I'm constantly fighting to keep my own balance on this big razor tightrope act because I know right well that there's no safety net. 


"From the inside room
when the front room greeting
becomes your special book
it was simple then.
When the party lulls
if we fall by the side...

Will you be remembered?
Will she be remembered?

Alone in a crowd,
a borrowed lantern bartered
If I'm to be your camera,
then who will be your face?

I fell by your bed once
I didn't want to tell you
I should keep myself
in between the pages
of the green light room
if we fall by the side

Will you be remembered?
Will she be remembered?

Alone in a crowd,
a bartered lantern borrowed
If I'm to be your camera,
who will be your face?

I still like you,
can you remember?"



Even if I AM a lot more than others...  I am still just me.  I still have limits.

“Listen up.  Let me tell you something.  A man ain’t a goddamn ax.  Chopping, hacking, busting every goddamn minute of the day.  Things get to him.  Things he can’t chop down because they’re inside.”

poisonedgrace: (Default)
 
  Dancing on that razor's edge again.  I don't like it here and I can never keep my balance.  Inundated with woe and gloom on every side.  I'm never good enough.  Never right.  Never enough.  So sick of being reminded of it.  So sick of having such a wide array of things that I need to protect my heart from.  So sick of everything being a lesson in defeat.

I try really hard to overcome.  I try to make the world how I would like for it to be.  I also do a great job.  I'm an awesome person and I am well aware of my time and I am aware that when I am gone, all that I will leave behind is the consequence of my actions.  I try to act accordingly.  I try to help people and do what's right.  I think I do a pretty good job of it too.

Sometimes I feel like I really fail hardcore though.  There is an impenetrable.... fucking... zetsubou surrounding the world.  It seems that no matter what I change about myself... no matter what or how much I improve...  The world just stays so ugly and intent on dragging me down.  I can't save the whole world, but I can't learn to stop trying.

And this isn't about anyone or anything specific.  I started thinking yesterday when I was driving back from my workshop session at The Mansion.  I thought more while I was standing in the shower.  In all likelihood, my thinking too much seeped out and affected everyone I came in contact with.  I don't know if it proves anything or not...

But I feel so vulnerable.  I feel like there are just so many things lurking and waiting to try to hurt me.

Standing in the shower, thinking of you.  And I wish I had known, the last time that I saw you, that it was going to be the last time that I saw you.  I don't know what I would have done different.  I was nicer to you than you deserved anyhow, I just...

There are unsaid and undiscussed things that can now never be said, and never be discussed.


And there's this entire iceberg of nonsense right underneath it all.  I'm constantly fighting to keep my own balance on this big razor tightrope act because I know right well that there's no safety net. 


"From the inside room
when the front room greeting
becomes your special book
it was simple then.
When the party lulls
if we fall by the side...

Will you be remembered?
Will she be remembered?

Alone in a crowd,
a borrowed lantern bartered
If I'm to be your camera,
then who will be your face?

I fell by your bed once
I didn't want to tell you
I should keep myself
in between the pages
of the green light room
if we fall by the side

Will you be remembered?
Will she be remembered?

Alone in a crowd,
a bartered lantern borrowed
If I'm to be your camera,
who will be your face?

I still like you,
can you remember?"



Even if I AM a lot more than others...  I am still just me.  I still have limits.

“Listen up.  Let me tell you something.  A man ain’t a goddamn ax.  Chopping, hacking, busting every goddamn minute of the day.  Things get to him.  Things he can’t chop down because they’re inside.”

Piled High

Sep. 28th, 2010 09:45 am
poisonedgrace: (alone)


I had strange dreams about a homeless guy (and his friend[s?]).  I was working somewhere over night.  It was sort of like attending school somehow.  It was lunch break and a homeless guy got into the break room somehow.  He was freaking out and being crazy and challenging people over everything.  I ended up talking to him for a while, and he gave me 3 magic coins.  Also I was supposed to give a message to his friend for him.

After lunch, I had to go to some training sort of thing. It was strange and mysterious too.  Later I was outside.  I had told several rather dangerous sort of people the message. but I'm not sure what all came of it.

Some time later, I had a dream of being a mad scientist sort of guy.  I mean I guess I was still me, but I had switched jobs or whatever :P
I was sleeping and woke up.  I had some clones that I had made whom I lived with.  They were my minions or whatever I guess.  I remember cleaning up broken glass and being afraid of my fingers getting cut.


Off the top of my head, that's all I can remember at the moment.  I woke up totally craving a cinnamon roll for some reason.  Didn't get one.
___

Also:
No, it wasn't me.  But thanks for thinking of me <3
___

Dictes-moy où, n'en quel pays,
Est Flora, la belle Romaine;
Archipiada, ne Thais,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine;
Echo, parlant quand bruyt on maine
Dessus riviere ou sus estan,
Qui beauté eut trop plus qu'humaine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

Où est la très sage Héloise,
Pour qui chastré fut et puis moyne
Pierre Esbaillant à Sainct-Denis?
Pour son amour eut cest essoyne.
Semblablement, où est la royne
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fust gecté en ung sac en Seine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

La royne Blanche comme ung lys,
Qui chantoit à voix de sereine,
Berthe au grand pied, Bietris, Allys;
Harembourgis, qui tint le Mayne,
Et Jehanne, la bonne Lorraine,
Qu'Anglois bruslèrent à Rouen;
Ou sont-ils, Vierge souveraine?...
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

Prince, n'enquerez de sepmaine
Ou elles ont, ne de cest an,
Que ce refrain ne vous remaine:
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

Piled High

Sep. 28th, 2010 09:45 am
poisonedgrace: (alone)


I had strange dreams about a homeless guy (and his friend[s?]).  I was working somewhere over night.  It was sort of like attending school somehow.  It was lunch break and a homeless guy got into the break room somehow.  He was freaking out and being crazy and challenging people over everything.  I ended up talking to him for a while, and he gave me 3 magic coins.  Also I was supposed to give a message to his friend for him.

After lunch, I had to go to some training sort of thing. It was strange and mysterious too.  Later I was outside.  I had told several rather dangerous sort of people the message. but I'm not sure what all came of it.

Some time later, I had a dream of being a mad scientist sort of guy.  I mean I guess I was still me, but I had switched jobs or whatever :P
I was sleeping and woke up.  I had some clones that I had made whom I lived with.  They were my minions or whatever I guess.  I remember cleaning up broken glass and being afraid of my fingers getting cut.


Off the top of my head, that's all I can remember at the moment.  I woke up totally craving a cinnamon roll for some reason.  Didn't get one.
___

Also:
No, it wasn't me.  But thanks for thinking of me <3
___

Dictes-moy où, n'en quel pays,
Est Flora, la belle Romaine;
Archipiada, ne Thais,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine;
Echo, parlant quand bruyt on maine
Dessus riviere ou sus estan,
Qui beauté eut trop plus qu'humaine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

Où est la très sage Héloise,
Pour qui chastré fut et puis moyne
Pierre Esbaillant à Sainct-Denis?
Pour son amour eut cest essoyne.
Semblablement, où est la royne
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fust gecté en ung sac en Seine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

La royne Blanche comme ung lys,
Qui chantoit à voix de sereine,
Berthe au grand pied, Bietris, Allys;
Harembourgis, qui tint le Mayne,
Et Jehanne, la bonne Lorraine,
Qu'Anglois bruslèrent à Rouen;
Ou sont-ils, Vierge souveraine?...
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

Prince, n'enquerez de sepmaine
Ou elles ont, ne de cest an,
Que ce refrain ne vous remaine:
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan!

poisonedgrace: (Default)


   "I accessible to human feeling! know you to whom you speak? Am I not he before whom all men shudder, whose name has been a terror and desolation; and yet you can talk of my human feelings. Nay, if I had had any, be sure they would have been extinguished by the persecutions I have endured from those who, you know, with savage ferocity have sought my life."


poisonedgrace: (Default)


   "I accessible to human feeling! know you to whom you speak? Am I not he before whom all men shudder, whose name has been a terror and desolation; and yet you can talk of my human feelings. Nay, if I had had any, be sure they would have been extinguished by the persecutions I have endured from those who, you know, with savage ferocity have sought my life."


poisonedgrace: (Default)
_  


"Can you, then, from all you have heard of me, and from all you know of me, not conceive it possible that I am not enacting any such character? Why may it not be real? Look at me. Do I look like one of the inhabitants of the earth?"

   "In sooth, you do not."

   "And yet I am, as you see, upon it. Do not, with an affected philosophy, doubt all that may happen to be in any degree repugnant to your usual experiences."

_  

poisonedgrace: (Default)
_  


"Can you, then, from all you have heard of me, and from all you know of me, not conceive it possible that I am not enacting any such character? Why may it not be real? Look at me. Do I look like one of the inhabitants of the earth?"

   "In sooth, you do not."

   "And yet I am, as you see, upon it. Do not, with an affected philosophy, doubt all that may happen to be in any degree repugnant to your usual experiences."

_  

Anesidora

Jun. 29th, 2010 02:18 pm
poisonedgrace: (Default)
_


Today rather feels like a good example of the pithos problem.  All the evils, save one. 
Sometimes it seems like everything can just be, and be fine, and other times it seems like the lid comes off and the jar starts spilling everywhere. 
I guess I should learn to... do... something? about it.  I just don't know what.  Yet. 
Maybe there comes a time, even for me, to just shut up and pretend.  To just get in line and try to learn to be something you're not.  To stop thinking about things, and stop Becoming.  
Maybe it's time to just Stop. 
Time to just join the general consensus and accept How Things Have Always Been. 
Give up the resistance and abandon Truth.

It is not without an appreciation of the ironic that I consider considering ceasing to consider so considerably. 

Every step you make with yourself and your search for Right is two steps away from The World and Other People.

Not so terrible to end up alone in the hills, but never fun when you see it tearing at other people along the way.

I feel unfit today.
Like some fabulous synecdoche.  But then I guess that's the entire thing here, isn't it?  One way or another.

"De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine"



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