Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Applauding intolerance

Today I saw a quote mistakenly attributed to Meryl Streep that has gotten a ton of traction for some reason on social media. It actually comes from (apparently) some relatively unknown Portuguese writer who is now attempting to have the quote correctly attributed to him for some reason:

“I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature. I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me.

I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate. I decided not to coexist anymore with pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise. I do not tolerate selective erudition nor academic arrogance. I do not adjust either to popular gossiping. I hate conflict and comparisons. I believe in a world of opposites and that’s why I avoid people with rigid and inflexible personalities. In friendship I dislike the lack of loyalty and betrayal. I do not get along with those who do not know how to give a compliment or a word of encouragement. Exaggerations bore me and I have difficulty accepting those who do not like animals. And on top of everything I have no patience for anyone who does not deserve my patience.”

Ok, starts off sort of ok, then quickly turns to choosing not to coexist with certain aspects of humanity, not tolerating certain aspects of humanity (hating comparisons? really, hate?), avoiding people who are rigid and inflexible (are you rigid and inflexible in saying these things?), bored by exaggerations (which is probably the most pretentious things that I've read today, but I haven't read too much), and having difficulty accepting people who don't happen to find as much joy in animals as this guy seems to. Really? You're not going to struggle "accepting" someone who is not a fan of animals?

To me this on its face, and as evidenced by all of the "likes" and "shares" it has garnered, seems to be clearly celebrating intolerance. When I first read it and thought it might have been Meryl Streep, I thought, ok, you are maybe just a little like all of the other kind of racist/intolerant/bigoted old people I know who have gradually seemed to be less tolerant of difference, either in people, viewpoints, or activities -- things and people that may or may not directly affect you, yet you are still "displeased" with the very thought of them. 

You can't handily write off huge swaths of human behavior as being beyond tolerance, patience, or even coexistence and be seen as a lover of mankind. No one has to tolerate people who are easy to get along with or things that you already like. Tolerating only comes into play with things that are hard for you to deal with, displease you, or hurt you. And what does it mean to deserve someone else's patience? It really makes you wonder, who would be worthy of this guy's patience? It reminds me of another quote that I have seen in the feeds of my not immediate family "if you're helping someone and expecting something in return, you're doing business not kindness". Similarly, if you are being patient with someone who you kind of think is great or tolerating someone that is really pretty similar to you, you're not actually being patient or tolerant, are you? I'm not necessarily saying this guy is wrong for thinking or saying these things, I'm just saying that this is exactly the sort of thing that sociopaths get castigated for -- seeing and valuing other people merely for what effect they have on you rather than allowing them to be their own individual expression of humanity that deserves equal shrift to your own. 

See, as I type this I indicate to you that I clearly have a distaste for certain types of things. This type of attitude, for instance. But I don't think it's abhorrent or repulsive, or not deserving of my tolerance or patience, and I don't think that I can just choose not to coexist with people like this. Because everyone in the world is different from me. I'm sure there is no one who shares exactly my tastes and opinions on every single issue. The arrogance is not in assuming he is right to think these things, because of course when we form opinions that's a form of thinking we're right, that's what it means to form an opinion and we do it hundreds if not thousands of times a day. The arrogance comes from dismissing or punishing or otherwise treating people more poorly for having certain opinions dissimilar to yours, at least or perhaps particularly when those opinions don't affect you at all (how is this guy offended by whether I like animals or not?). 

But people love this quote for some reason. Why?

153 comments:

  1. I was camping on the weekend. Looking for firewood, carrying it back to camp, chopping it. Spending time to light the fire, to tend it, to cook. I realised why it is that humans have developed the capacity to *argue*, to *convince*.

    We have limited energy, both individually and in groups.

    As we go through life - if we are aware enough! - we find things we like. More often, we find things we don't like.

    This dude is simply articulating that, articulating what he doesn't want to spend energy on.

    You make a key point:

    "I'm just saying that this is exactly the sort of thing that sociopaths get castigated for"

    To be frank, this is something we can learn from sociopaths. Knowing what it is we like and moving on when a relationship or situation becomes a drain on resources or a pain or is simply no longer adding value. I see this ability as very positive because our resources *are* limited. Better to move on before things get toxic.

    It's more the deliberate inflicting of pain that the general population really doesn't like about sociopaths... but if they were more aware or more self-sufficient, they'd have pulled the plug or done something about their situation sooner. There is nothing an individual can do against such a proclivity other than to move on or accept it and not expect different behaviour.

    So why does this man's article resonate with people? Because it demonstrates a level of awareness and a willingness to look after oneself that most people haven't yet reached. They aspire to it.

    People don't understand "seeing and valuing other people merely for what effect they have on you" which is why they may criticise it if they do come across it. It's simply foreign. Incidentally, I don't think doing this necessarily implies one doesn't allow another "to be their own individual expression of humanity that deserves equal shrift to your own."

    I mean, you don't have to thwart another to obtain value from interacting with them. Perhaps you know this and haven't quite expressed it... For me, collaboration is one of my greatest pleasures - yet I am becoming increasingly self-sufficient.

    I've actually gained a good deal of pleasure from throwing around ideas with people on this site, and from other psychopaths / sociopaths. I wonder how much of this pleasure you guys feel? I know that in some areas never the twain shall meet, but I wonder if self-sufficient collaboration may not be a kind of bridge, however short-lived.

    Just on a personal note, you hear people speak of relationships for a season or a lifetime. I do learn and grow a great deal with short-term relationships, eg with people that come into my life on work projects or for sporting seasons. I highly value them. And I don't hope so much for longer relationships, although I do have one or two friends that I'd like to persist with indefinitely. And I like to leave things open with everyone so that should our paths cross, we might share new learnings or take new adventures together.

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  2. How much money does he have? Trump can talk like this. Not many others
    can. He comes off as a prissy, finicky, gay writer. Like a Truman Capote or a
    Gore Vidal.
    There was a humorous poster from the 1970's. It read: "Life is like a shit
    samwitch. The more bread you have, the less shit you have to eat."

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  3. People 'like' this because they haven't thought about what this statement-block means.

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  4. Why did I see it and yoda today. Im not chillin with hoodskis just to get a chance to talk to it. If it wants to interact it can come directly to me other wise it can go directly away. Plus why would I want someone who tried to convince me im on that shitbags level (how did that work out anyway?) I deal directly with the ppl I deal with not through some wankster middle men. I dont suppose there are newer model of cars out there that know what level im on. Go deal with yoda since u believe we're on the same level. P.s. 90 percent of females wont be caught dead dealing with yoda, so what does that say about those that would. drving around in home he is.

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  5. My guess would be that a lot of people treat others well out of obligation.

    Eventually they start burning out. Here's a theory: people can't meet one's standards (automatic conceptions about how people "ought" to behave) - seeing others do "bad" things and feeling the concomitant moral outrage is uncomfortable. Often people feel bad about a situation but avoid doing anything bad, due to a sense of social obligation. Eventually this leads to blaming others for the bad feelings and burnout.

    Eg blacks in Africa rape and sometimes eat each other in cannibal rituals. If someone like Donald Trump says, "we shouldn't let Africans come to the USA - our rape rate and cannibalistic ritual rates will go up," the liberal feels bad. Donald is saying the truth: real Africans don't act like the ones on TV. He hates the Donald for pointing it out, because the liberal feels bad when his beliefs ("Africans and Americans are all the same") get proven wrong. Eventually he decides that, goddamn it, he won't tolerate "intolerance" anymore. So he tries to hurt Trump. He declares that he just won't tolerate intolerance any more. Actually it is the liberal ideologue that is intolerant. And Donald was tolerant all along - a bit like a sociopath he just wants to give people what they want - whether that be gold-plated bathroom fixtures or a giant wall on the Mexican border.

    Sociopaths have fewer beliefs. This is why they don't tend to be religious and tend not to feel much moral outrage (who is to say how we ought to believe?) Narcissists have a bunch of beliefs - explaining why they bother others and themselves so much.

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  6. Ask the aboriginals about rapists.

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  7. People like it cause they're generally pissed off from getting burned? By politicians, corporations, their boss and co-workers, etc.? Kinda like the movie Network, "I'm mad as hell and not going to take it anymore." Our Networked world has probably made things both better and worse; we're more connected now than at any other time in history, and also, for many, the most isolated from real human contact. Connected not in real 'flesh time' but only in the virtual.

    Just guessing. Haven't finished my coffee.

    Mr. Hyde

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    Replies
    1. Are you familiar with the book "World Wide Mind: The Coming Integration of Humanity, Machines and the Internet," by Michael Chorost?

      Here is an excerpt about it:

      "But we all know how addictive the Internet is. Chorost explains the addiction: he details the bio-chemistry of what makes you hunger to touch your iPhone and check your email. He proposes how we could design a mind-to-mind technology that would let us reconnect with our bodies and enhance our relationships. And it would be humankind's next evolutionary step."

      By the way, what kind of coffee do you drink, Mr. Hyde?

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    2. Chorest sounds interesting. Mind-to mind indeed. You have to include all the senses before being totally absorbed into the matrix, however, I believe. Sensual contact is essential for biological beings.

      Dark coffee. With a generous teaspoon of sugar and cream. In my last life I was a glutton, among other things.

      Mr. Hyde.

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    3. PS Parnasse, I'm sure you've heard of the coming "singularity," the total merging of man and machine. World Wide Mind sounds very similar. I have grave doubts about retaining our humanity under such conditions, not because I'm a closet Luddite, but because of my own very limited experience within my own body. I also wonder whether and in what ways being 'infallible' and 'immortal' would impact the human evolution.

      If you had a choice to be physically perfect and live forever, would you?

      I'm not sure I would. Don't really know why . . . the idea of being part machine kinda scares and repulses me. Then again prosthetics of any kind have always proved very useful indeed.

      btw, I drink various brands of gourmet coffee, but it's always the darkest, richest. I like giving my heart a big bang in the morning.

      btw, I like it when people suggest reading material and have gotten some great suggestions. Please feel free to suggest any books you've enjoyed. I just finished reading "Evil Genes" and am in the middle of "The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why violence has Declined." Both are good.

      Mr. Hyde

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    4. You are rather thoughtful in pointing out toward the senses and/or sensual contact as vital for biological beings. After all, the mind and the senses are interwoven. In “World Wide Mind,” I really like how Chorost weaves the scientific into the personal, continuing to explore a less known subject dealing with telempathy and its direct impact on human behavior.

      While pondering your question, I am not sure whether I would make that choice. Likewise, the sheer idea of being part machine is a bit too “metallic” for my taste. It surely leaves that metallic taste all over my core and thoughts, which is something that my noodle/mind dispels. The other side of the coin is the prosthetics point you have brought up, which is useful. :)

      I am still working on digesting and/or making my way through “Evil Genius” (i.e., prolifically sinister individuals have a certain oomph or big bada boom to them), and “The Cycle of Deviant Behavior” is a congenial read. Lately, I have been looking into the attributes of St. Quiteria. What do you think of the latter?

      You really like giving your heart a big bang in the morning. Have your also tried Bally’s Best Coffee Candy? It is an efficient two-into-one mixture, namely the dark coffee you’ve mentioned, coupled with the generous teaspoon of sugar. Even St. Quiteria would approve of it, I believe. :)

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    5. "You" not your. In this instance, it was autocorrect's fault for some reason, which can be quite off when it comes to it.

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    6. Hagiography is a topic I don't know much about -- From what I read online she appears headstrong, rebellious, defiant. A religious feminist ahead of her time; guess that's why she lost her head. (

      Never tried the candy but I'll keep my eyes peeled and taste buds primed. I eat small bits of dark chocolate with my coffee. Works wonders. )

      Mr. Hyde

      Which attributes of St. Quiteria interest you?

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    7. Yes, Mr. Hyde. She does appear headstrong, rebellious and defiant. All of these traits stem from her pluck or determination.

      I suppose that being ahead of one's time can result in losing a head or two. :) We have seen it done throughout the gates of time. However, there is an alternate story about her. After being decapitated, her head was thrown into the sea. Afterward, she successfully emerged from the water, still in possession of her head.

      Speaking of dark chocolate, it has been found that it protects your skin against the sun. I also take a bit of raw cacao with my coffee. It gives it some spunk. :)

      What do you like about the book "Evil Genes?"

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    8. She emerged from the water _carrying_ her head, I believe. Maybe I'm chicken, but that's not an ideal resurrection in my book. Why isn't her head properly set on her shoulders? In myth these little details reveal important keys to the 'meaning.'

      Mr. Hyde

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    9. Re: Evil Genes. I enjoyed the author's quest to understand her sister.

      Mr. Hyde

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    10. Because, Mr. Hyde, her "mind" was not in her physical head. Or, we can look into Hamlet for further answers.

      What did you enjoy most about the author's quest?

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    11. The author's conflicted feelings for her sister seemed authentic and her growing understanding and compassion for sister's condition was palpable. I imagine that the author's anger at sister went through a formidable transformation, almost against her will. Forgiveness is a hell of a thing; we tend to love and identify with our hateful wounds, so to forgive is to willfully give up a deep part of ourselves, to surrender to a more complicated way of being. I view that dynamic as part of the 'quest' to become more a fully rounded human.

      Mr. Hyde

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    12. It might have been "almost against her will," Mr. Hyde, which I find uniquely enigmatic in a sense. That is the quest you've mentioned, and wanting to "know why," on the part of the sister, along with what drives this dynamic, is a large part of its design. Having read the book, I agree that we tend to "love and identify with our hateful wounds," which makes forgiveness remarkable on a distinct level. It is a high point that most people cannot or will never reach.

      True, it is a more complex way of being, and its authenticity does seem palpable as more incidents unfold throughout the plot. They say that in order to "fully" understand, two individuals are usually experiencing the same condition. As we see in the book, giving up a deep part of ourselves within this dynamic, can be a life-changing quest.

      Have you read " The Martian" (Andy Weir)? I would change its title, though. :)

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    13. I haven't read "The Martian." I assume this person identifies some alien condition?

      Sometimes when people recant their wounds, I'm astonished by how out of proportion their anger is over something that happened 30 years ago, as if the wound has become swollen over time. Whilst others can seemingly let go. I wonder if personality dictates this, or something else.

      Mr. Hyde

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    14. Because of his protagonist, my guess is that Andy Weir has a type of an “alien condition” as you have phrased it, Mr. Hyde. He most likely has piles of alien (i.e., not the conventional meaning of the word alien, though) films and television-series on DVDs. Some would be easily recognizable, whereas others would be more opaque, so to speak. (One of the latter films was incredible, and should have been given a sequel). What’s more, he is probably hoping for a museum-quality replica “Hermes” for his birthday. He has a subscription to “Sur La Terre,” which reaches him through direct mail, and he still has his microscope in the attic from when he was a little boy, because he couldn’t bare to part with it.

      What would be your own guesses for these identifiers?

      You wonder whether personality dictates this, or whether it occurs because of something else. When it comes to swollen wounds, I believe it’s something else, Mr. Hyde.

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    15. He sounds like geeks I've met at Sci-Fi conferences. The fascination with Mars seems to be prevalent in that community. No harm in that; living on Mars doesn't interest me too much, unless artifacts from other life forms were found. I would love to read a book written by an alien!

      I have a friend who seems quite normal until she talks about her past wounds. Then it seems like she becomes almost rapid, repeating herself with an anger that's all consuming. At first I thought she's BPD but now I'm unsure. Anyway, I wish I could help her let go of the past because it appears that hanging on to it hurts her.

      Mr. Hyde

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    16. Yes! I would surely love to read an autobiographical novel written by a duple lifeform. This is how I imagine it, both bemusing and bemused. The artifacts would surely be a bonus after reading the novel, Mr. Hyde. :)

      Your friend’s anger is all-consuming. It sounds powerful, and come to think of it, when being in such a place, the wound continues to swell. Why are you unsure about her BPD manifestations?

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    17. I'm unsure because I'm not a doctor, and because I don't think I've ever met anyone who has BPD. She's quite the fireball but shows empathy, unless she's pissed off. Doesn't everyone lose compassion when they're mad? She suffers intrusive thoughts which often appear obsessive. It's hard for her to stay in the present moment. Her relationships are rather unstable. It's just sad cause she's very bright and talented.

      If only I could introduce her to an alien novel or artifact that might snap her out of it. ;)

      Mr. Hyde

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    18. I believe that everyone loses compassion when they are mad. I, too, know someone as you describe, and these signs come to the surface rather often. There are several descriptors or identifiers in this person, such as addiction, unusual fervency and heightened perception. The fireball can manifest as an intense volcano, or fervid moments that seen to rapidly escalate over a period of time. There is also ample evidence of instability when it comes to relationships. The obsessions seem to be "selective," developing a root of their own. I wonder, is all of this happening against her own will? What do you believe, Mr. Hyde?

      You could introduce her to "Aliens: Original Sin." It has the potential to snap her out of it. ;

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    19. Seem, not seen. ;)

      "Fahrenheit 451." What do you think of the protagonist, Guy Montag?

      451 degrees. I wonder, is this the true temperature at which book-paper catches fire, Mr. Hyde? :)

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    20. To be honest, I don't know what to think. She has gone through a lot of trauma, for years on end. She seemed to change after that. Her obsessions do seem somewhat selective, and it does seem out of her control, as her conversations will always careen into certain topics. I've tried to talk to her about this and other stuff (because oft times I wind up pinned to the couch by her hour-long rants). That only stokes the fire; she cannot take any sort of constructive criticism, takes everything, even general statements personally. I do think her self esteem is very low, and that may contribute to her defensiveness. And yes, she drinks quite a bit, but not hard booze. I don't like being around when she drinks, as the ranting gets way worse. She is young-middle-aged, and seems very frightened of being alone. Someone else said she's suffering PTSD. How can you tell the difference between BPD and PTSD?

      Will check out Aliens: Original sin. May come in handy in an emergency.;

      F451 is a book I haven't read in many years. I kinda remember the movie . . . Julie Christie plays the girlfriend? Guy M is a strange character as I recall. He certainly seemed to enjoy his job in the beginning: sorta like that Colonel from Apocalypse Now: "I love the smell of Napalm in the morning." Not really a full blown sociopath, perhaps, but someone who's rather high in certain traits that foster detachment. In other words, a rather normal specimen of human (especially in the world of the that novel).

      When it comes to 'firemen' and men of war, first responders who witness blood and terror, I think the job itself can numb people to the pain they experience and that of others. Once you become normalized to violence something inside changes -- even naturally kind people become hardened.

      Whatever the temperature at which book-paper catches fire, it doesn't destroy the ideas contained therein. Ideas and beliefs appear to have a life of their own. Like genes, human ideals of 'freedom' and 'love' seem to be hard-wired.

      What to you think of Guy Montag?

      Mr. Hyde

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    21. BPD is a thought disorder, Mr. Hyde. It has been found that it is not a mood disorder. Being a thought disorder, BPD is actually a flaw in how information is received, processed or interpreted by the brain. I believe that a BPD's most fatal flaw is destroying relationships.

      PTSD occurs when the brain of an ordinary person becomes overloaded, and it says "enough, I give up." It requires the occurrence of a significant, traumatic event (i.e., greater than family instability), and there are cases where people do recover. It does not go on and on (i.e., never seeming to end) as you describe in the case of your friend. There is no evidence of the fatal flaw and thought disorder that I mentioned above.

      Aside from that, what do I think of Guy Montag? He is quite different from the rest. Instead of burning all the books in the houses of criminals, he takes some and hides them in his own home...even if it is clearly an offense punishable by death. Brave, so brave. ;)

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    22. Thanks for simplifying BPD versus PTSD.

      As for GM, he sounds like an example of curiosity building to a (in his case) a dangerous impulse towards freedom. I tend to think of human curiosity as a precursor to human freedom.

      Mr. Hyde

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    23. His impulse toward freedom is dangerous, Mr. Hyde. It was Albert Camus who wrote that "The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." Robert Frost seemed to concur by writing that "Freedom lies in being bold."

      Human curiosity is comparable to a root, growing ever so rapidly when properly nourished. Do you believe that a person can be simultaneously curious and free at the moment s/he wishes to be?

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    24. Depends. I think they may feel thus believe themselves to be curious and free in the moment if they can let themselves act from those impulses . . . but real freedom seems to me to be more than that. You must also accept that boldness has consequences. And if you choose to blame and punish others for your actions then you are not free but chained to your unconscious beliefs of what you think that means. That's not the same thing as seizing the day of your own conscious curious adventure.

      You are very thoughtful. :)

      Mr. Hyde

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    25. Freedom is the act of the soul dancing. My soul probably moves like a dancer addicted to "the craft" ("the craft" being freedom). Real freedom would be the most original of all things. How does your soul move when it comes to freedom, and which dancer would you be? Also, what type of music would drive it?

      Thank you, Mr. Hyde. "Thoughtful."

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    26. The most moving of all music to me is nature's symphony: the sound of crashing waves and biting winds, the howling of wolves, the cry of a loon.

      I'd be a wood nymph or perhaps a faun. Or a centaur so I could run like the wind.

      Mr. Hyde

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    27. Nature's symphony as you've described it would be the most favorable oeuvre or output, Mr. Hyde. There is something intrinsically beseeching between the aura of the fulgent sun and the crux of biting winds.

      You would be a nymph. Which one?

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    28. Hesperia, who, along with her sisters, guarded the Tree of Golden Apples. I chose here because I figure the tree of Immortality must be located close by. :)

      "There is something intrinsically beseeching between the aura of the fulgent sun and the crux of biting winds."

      I like that very much, Parnasse

      What fantastic creature would you be?

      Mr. Hyde

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    29. Hesperia is a good choice, Mr. Hyde. Great placement, too. :)

      "The most moving of all music to me is nature's symphony: the sound of crashing waves and biting winds, the howling of wolves, the cry of a loon."

      It shows, and I like it quite a lot.

      Virgil, Aeneid 1. 168 ff:

      "[Under these twin mountains], on the coast of Libya, the bay lies still and sheltered: a curtain of overhanging woods with their shifting light and shadow forms the backdrop; at the seaward foot of the cliffs there's a cave of stalactites, fresh water within, and seats which nature has hew from the stone - a home of the Nymphai (Oreades)."

      This type of nymph guided travelers/tourists through their rocky mazes. Was it immortal, Mr. Hyde? ;)

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    30. If she's a nymph she's bonded to a force of nature, and nature never dies.

      I imagine that as an alluring water nymph who can navigate rocky mazes, you must be an immortal solver of intricate puzzles. Which I like very much. :)

      Mr. Hyde

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    31. According to what's known, this nymph remains bonded, Mr. Hyde. Nature beckons it to be so, growing with each renewing lifecycle.

      The attributes of this particular nymph are immortal, and the travelers it guides find their way when being lost for some personal reason.

      Tantamount to this nymph’s vocation, solving intricate puzzles is my “calling.” You understand that quite well, like no other. :)

      I wonder, how do you envision this nymph’s eyes, Mr. Hyde?

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    32. The nymph's eyes are the color of the Mediterranean sea on bright sunny day.

      Your spiritual/philosophical curiosity as it manifests here on SW is charming, Parnasse. Magnetic to the iron core of my earthly soul. :)

      I am so glad that you exist in this world.

      Mr. Hyde

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    33. "The soul that can see through the eyes can also kiss with a gaze." G.A.B.

      It is so incandescent and rare that it feels as though the eyes are bleeding from releasing it onto the other. This thought leads me to think of the girl in "Let the Right One In."

      I truly like it when you bare your soul, Mr. Hyde, and thank you for the above. I truly exist when communicating and connecting with you. ;)

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    34. Beams from your eyes do penetrate, Parnasse, and I do like baring my soul to you. You seem to grasp my deeper meaning. Just as the boy understands the vampire girl and vice versa: Each invites and lets the exotic Other in.

      The lush force of your vitality will always exist, with or without me. If I've managed to give you a boost, I am well pleased. You have done the same for me.

      Mr. Hyde

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    35. The vampire boy and girl have both a spoken and an unspoken understanding that forges their bond. Letting each other in is the crux of their exotic union, permeating those "places" that formerly felt "inhuman," or just inaccessible for not having yet found "the other." When the discovery is finally made, things advance to even higher grounds, and perception becomes a sense that speaks without the internal drive to adjust and modify along the way. It simply feels natural.

      What would you do with an exotic thought, Mr. Hyde? Would you smile and let it pass through the crevices of your mind, or would you, somehow, act on it (directly or indirectly)? ;)

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    36. I always first let things permeate and pass through the crevices, if I've got the time. :) Think twice, speak and act once, is very good advice.

      My perception speaks for itself. I think. ;)

      Mr. Hyde

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    37. PS Nothing a person experiences is inhuman. But what we feel and experience is sometimes inaccessible. Unless we work very hard and look beyond the mirror.

      Mr. Hyde

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    38. What can you tell me about the view beyond the mirror, Mr. Hyde? Is there a particular story that comes to your mind about it? :)

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    39. Off the top of my head, the story that comes to mind is "Being John Malkovich." Heh heh.

      Down the rabbit hole, into the mirror, always leads back to many Selves, each one a little different. Each one a facet of the whole. Hinduism's 340 or so million gods are 'fragments' of the mirror, behind which is either the Wizard of Oz or God. Maybe both. ;)

      Which story of the view behind the mirror comes to mind for you?

      And: If you have any other musical suggestions I'd be grateful. TC is fantastic. I want more. ;))

      Mr. Hyde

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    40. While listening to TC, I will be thinking of a story involving the view beyond the mirror. Coincidently, I listened to Nouvelle Vague's "In a Manner of Speaking" while waking up quite early in the morning to work on my project.

      I will "give" you more of my thoughts somewhat later. ;)

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    41. Or coincidentally... ;)

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    42. The more I think of the view behind the mirror and a story in connection to it, the more I realize that it is quite incomparable. I have always had comparisons for certain situations in my life, but not this one. True, I wanted others to be unique, and tried to make them so (i.e., even thinking of them as unique, but doubting at the same time). However, things didn't happen as I envisioned them, or as what I desired. So, I can't find a comparison for it, making it truly original. I want it to remain whole, Mr. Hyde.

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    43. What I meant to transmit above is that I have always wanted and sought "the incomparable" or originality, and I see that in the connection that we have, Mr. Hyde.

      Do you feel that as well in your own way? ;)

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    44. Adding to the above: My question relates to the core of it, and that is my reason for specifying "in your own way."

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    45. Yes, Parnasse, I experience our connection as original. You have touched me in an incomparable way. :)

      It seems to me that we have met in mid-stream, coming from different currents that have merged in a particularly unusual way. The river flows and we are following it. There are places underground that lead to the ancient aquifer from whence we sprang, the source of our searching.

      Remaining whole for me involves transparency. Being as clear as a mountain lake. Even when water is perfectly clear distortions occur and one must adjust one's aim.

      My aim is simply to know and be known. And to grow. I hope you don't doubt that our connection is for me highly unique. :))

      What do you aim for through our connection?

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    46. You and I have the same aim, Mr. Hyde. I don't believe that I was clear about my thoughts on doubt. I was not referring to you or to our connection. This has been part of my quest, too, and mentioning it was essential, especially knowing that distortions can happen at any given time.

      True, we merged in a particularly unusual way, but that is exactly what "did it," so to speak. I, too, seek to know, to be known and to grow. While thinking of the big picture as well as its details, what else do you aim for through our connection, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    47. Continuing...

      I aim for "knowing" to the point where true acceptance is reached in a mode that defines exactly who we are and what we need in a distinct, deviant/twisted and inciting connection. Most people don't do well with someone who sees and behaves in both light and dark modes. I know this thought sounds abstract, but I think that you know what it entails more than others have even tried to ponder. What's more, when contemplating the other side of it, I am actually "attracted" to another's dark side and everything that comes with it, deriving stimulation from it in a strange manner. Some people can't "handle" dark emotions or reactions, such as anger or unusual behavior, but I seem to see it differently. I don't fear "the dark," being able to delve into it when finding myself in such situations or peculiar instances.

      I want to know everything about you, Mr. Hyde, bonding and merging intensely, ardently and fearlessly. Our exchanges are evolving rather well, my mind needing and wanting to know more.

      I liked discovering your "spiritual eroticism" in the other post, and the angle that you broached in defining and feeling such stimulation. I wonder, how would you have "reacted" or felt in that place if one of the bees had actually "stung" you "lightly"? ;)

      Delete
    48. "So, I can't find a comparison for it, making it truly original. I want it to remain whole, Mr. Hyde." "I see that in the connection that we have . . .
      Do you feel that as well in your own way? ;)"

      You know the answer to that, Parnasse. ;)) Our connection through the medium of words is undeniable. btw, I am listening to "In a Manner of Speaking."

      Have you heard Jah Wobble and Invaders of the Heart? "Rising from Bedlam" It's one of my favorites.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    49. "True, we merged in a particularly unusual way, but that is exactly what "did it," so to speak. I, too, seek to know, to be known and to grow. While thinking of the big picture as well as its details, what else do you aim for through our connection, Mr. Hyde?

      I don't know . . . enlightenment? Lol. You know me . . . ;)

      Actually, I think I'd like to collaborate with you on a story. Not now. Sometime in the future. I think it would be hellish fun. We could publish it under Scarlet something or other. Lol.

      I aim to share ideas, opinions and perspectives with you. And hopefully vice versa.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    50. "What's more, when contemplating the other side of it, I am actually "attracted" to another's dark side and everything that comes with it, deriving stimulation from it in a strange manner. Some people can't "handle" dark emotions or reactions, such as anger or unusual behavior, but I seem to see it differently. I don't fear "the dark," being able to delve into it when finding myself in such situations or peculiar instances."

      I understand the attraction as a reflection of my own stuff: There's plenty to be angry about it in the world let alone with myself and my past.

      I can't begin to tell you how pissed I am about environmental, social and countless other issues. 80% seems to me incredibly stupid and destructive to all life. Which I find very hard to abide in a civil way.

      I fear the dark in myself and others but also yearn to know it and am thus attracted to it. And I've always loved so-called monsters in movies an books. There is beauty in beasts of all shapes, colors and sizes. After all, God created them, too.

      When I was a kid, I envied Fay Wray in the King Kong. ;)

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    51. I want to know everything about you, too. Tell me a story . . .

      I cannot go back in time and tell you what I would have done had a bee 'lightly' stung me. But, given my state of mind, I imagine I would have sat perfectly still and done nothing. I would have brushed it off as unintentional, an accident.

      If we're talking about what I would do now, in the present, if a human bee stung me, it would depend. I've been stung many times and did nothing but walk away, left it to karma. Other times I took action. It all depends on intention and circumstance.

      Once a lover who had cruelly jilted and made me homeless in the middle of winter called years later to flirt and offer me a plane ticket to visit him on the other side of the country. So I let him pay for the ticket but never went. It was one of those times when I caved to teaching someone a lesson. It was wicked because I lead him on. Sure felt good though.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    52. Here is a "postit" for you, Mr. Hyde. I am "digesting" the above for now. Jah Wobble is the "noodle." ;) I really like "Invaders of the Heart," and your taste in music is "communicable." It is quite complementary.

      I like listening to this song by Nouvelle Vague at dawn:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqdYqIYNiZM

      Delete
    53. Post Postit Above:

      “I don't know . . . enlightenment? Lol. You know me . . .”

      Veritably, I know you, Mr. Hyde. Fitting head to head now, and warming up my fingers to begin typing. ;)

      Collaborating with you on a story is a voluminous idea. More than that, I believe that joining forces with you on a whole book would be ideal. It would become our co-produced “mammoth,” having its “body parts,” so to speak, rise spectacularly through the protracted tentacles of “hellish fun.” When you say “sometime in the future,” what timeline do you have in mind?

      I understand your point about finding it hard to stomach some things in a civil way, and feeling some anger as a result of it. Environmental, social and other issues make me crinkle my nose, too. The destruction of life is not to be taken lightly at any given time.

      “I fear the dark in myself and others but also yearn to know it and am thus attracted to it. And I've always loved so-called monsters in movies an books. There is beauty in beasts of all shapes, colors and sizes. After all, God created them, too.”

      I love brainstorming about monsters, Mr. Hyde, and your thoughts on this would be fantastic. Keeping “hellish fun” brainstorming in mind, do you believe that monsters are “true” monsters from the get-go, visiting us in our beds at night (i.e., remember those childhood dreams?) like specters that roam, bayonet and infiltrate our beings wildly? And if that is not the case, an inevitable question comes to mind: Does the kind of human one is in the beginning dictate the type of monster one would become? If that is the case, then I am right in thinking that there are monsters under the so-called bed of our subconscious treks.

      “When I was a kid, I envied Fay Wray in the King Kong.”

      I am picturing Fay Wray in King Kong, envisioning her as I did during the first time that I discovered and then pondered it some more afterward. I loved that production. It was like being inside King Kong, pulsating from all fibers in those upturning scenes, and seeing Fay Wray from that perspective. Then, the tables turned, and I saw it through the reflection of a vice versa magnifying glass. ;)

      I will tell you a story, Mr. Hyde, but I need some time to write it. I have the beginning in mind, and it will most likely be about a favorite monster.

      “Once a lover who had cruelly jilted and made me homeless in the middle of winter called years later to flirt and offer me a plane ticket to visit him on the other side of the country. So I let him pay for the ticket but never went. It was one of those times when I caved to teaching someone a lesson. It was wicked because I lead him on. Sure felt good though.”

      I suppose that you were able to do it because the connection to your lover was not strong or intense enough to stop you from implementing your plan? What if the perceived “jilting” was not meant as such in reality, and, of course, the homelessness issue was not part of it? Would you have acted differently, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    54. A book!! I've never written a book -- have you? What kind of book? Fiction? Non-fiction? My head is spinning. ;)

      You honor me, Parnasse. Why would writing a book with me be ideal?

      It's a very intriguing idea, deserving of more thought. Meanwhile, I feel I should tell you that I've never collaborated with another writer before on anything; I'm uncertain how or even if it would work. (You are a more accomplished a writer than I, and my fiction writing is quite slow as I'm what's called an organic writer; although I do often make a loose outline in my head, I tend to 'follow' the characters and see what they will do.)

      I'd be willing to gamble on trying a short story or non-fiction piece (depending on the topic), just to see how we mesh on the page. If we manage to pull that off, then we can consider a book. It does sound very exciting, like a new adventure! And you do inspire me to write. :) I am booked up with projects until mid-January, btw. After that, I'd be delighted to give collaborating with you a whirl. Do you have an idea in mind?

      Would I have acted differently? I doubt it; I was very young and he fucked my best friend. Back in those days I was somewhat stupid and very adamant about fidelity; besides that he treated me in a very cruel manner. By the time he called a year later to 'make up' my feelings for him were completely dead. I'm afraid that once that happens, there's no going back. something dies in me when I've been screwed over on a certain level. I'm older now and better able to forgive most stuff, but not all. For instance, recently I was injured and left in a highly dangerous situation; I could have very well been robbed, beaten or raped. Or worse. And yes, it was very intentional on his part; he was very angry with me. I'm not seeking revenge, but I've certainly cut that bastard out of my life. Trust is very important to me in certain venues and situations. I won't let myself be mistreated, no matter how fond of someone I am.

      I can't wait to read your monster story, Parnasse. You have whetted my appetite!

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    55. My book-writing genre is fiction, Mr. Hyde. Writing a book with you would be ideal in the sense that our unusual minds connect so well, and I view you as a dexterous writer. In fact, I see loads of potential in taking it to that level (i.e., stories expanding to the possibility of a book), the ensuing chapters integrating those elements that captivate, immerse and intrigue us ever so fluidly. ;)

      Likewise, I have never collaborated with another writer before, since I am used to accomplishing everything that I do on my own (not just writing, that is). It would be a new experience, or a new “adventure” as you have thought of it. As they say, there is a first time for everything.

      You identify as an organic writer, which involves spontaneity and a sense of freedom in letting certain thoughts to take on any shape that beckons the agile mind. I like that about you, seeing how it could add to the overall flavor of the incisive, razor-sharp product.

      How would it work? While there is no formula or rule for it when it comes to composition, there is a way that can make it happen. We can collaborate on a collection of stories that come together in the form of an adventurous or highly entertaining book. It would entail what I call “the taking of twists and turns.” I would write a chapter, and you would write the next, and so on. We would then discuss the progression and evolution of each chapter and edit as necessary.

      An idea that I have would be a book about the “monstrous inclinations” and actions of a group of characters from completely different parts of the world that we give life to from the get-go. These characters would have their own covers, quirks, peculiar tendencies, accents/dialects, humorous personalities, and lots of freedom of expression. For instance, there would be Hans from Austria, who frequents a “start-up” university with a grave, dark secret in one of its underground laboratories; Keller from Bangladesh, who immigrates from one place to another in search of a partner with a big brain, or his perception of it, which is rather unorthodox (i.e., he devises highly imaginative presentations of his findings before a group of like-minded individuals); Luisa from Brazil, whose experimental nature in a “particular area of life” leads her to actually record a full-length film on her own; Olivier, the highly- trained Bohemian, who inhabits a curious, easily foldable/movable “place” in the southern part of Morocco and another in the northern part of France; Moltov from Russia, who speaks only five words in the morning and four at night (i.e., no deviations are allowed, and the words have to do with all sorts of subjects, such as the meaning of life, humorous observations, and thoughts that, in his opinion, “should not be crossing his mind during the early or late afternoon”); and Dingor from New Zealand, who delves so deeply into the world of abnormal psychology that he creates a completely new mental disorder. These are just a few thoughts off the top of my head, knowing that we can expand onto anything and everything that rolls through our inquiring minds.

      Delete
    56. Continuing...

      “I'd be willing to gamble on trying a short story or non-fiction piece (depending on the topic), just to see how we mesh on the page. If we manage to pull that off, then we can consider a book. It does sound very exciting, like a new adventure! And you do inspire me to write. :) I am booked up with projects until mid-January, btw. After that, I'd be delighted to give collaborating with you a whirl. Do you have an idea in mind?”

      I would also like to see how we mesh on the page, and I am glad that I inspire you to write. Mid-January sounds like a good time, since I have my own, “large” project that I am currently working on with a highly desired goal in mind. An idea for a short story would entail the personal vision/excursion of 7 days and nights in Heaven or Purgatory (i.e., not necessarily including a religious perspective or common beliefs as we know them to be, since one can create his/her own “place”), followed by the personal vision/getaway of seven days and nights in Hell. There would be full freedom of expression, lots of imaginative occurrences, humor, satire or anything that is/feels desirable. The epilogue would describe and “require” the choosing of one place over the other, coupled with the unrestrained expression of only “one” reason for it.

      I am writing the monster story, and will be posting it as soon as it’s soused and wrapped up. ;)

      “For instance, recently I was injured and left in a highly dangerous situation; I could have very well been robbed, beaten or raped. Or worse. And yes, it was very intentional on his part; he was very angry with me. I'm not seeking revenge, but I've certainly cut that bastard out of my life.”

      Is there more to say about this specific occurrence, Mr. Hyde? I would truly like to know about it.

      “Trust is very important to me in certain venues and situations.”

      Yes. ;)

      Delete
    57. Much food for thought, Parnasse.

      I am deeply intrigued by your ideas about our short story and book. "Monstrous inclinations" from people all over the world -- I like that. All humans and animals have a subconscious. We all dream. My deceased friend, a painter, dreamed in neon colors. You would have loved her: Tall, waist-length blond hair, blue-eyed with perfect teeth, a lawyer, poet, rebel and philosopher. She gave up law up to head to the bush and paint. Her paintings inspired me to dream in color after years of dreaming in gray. I believe that we, you and me, carry a bit of her howling wolf spirit. :D

      My head's spinning with possibilities. Potential of collaborating. Please allow me to stew a bit on what you've written.

      All I can say here about the occurrence is that I know malice was involved and that I'm suffering the consequence. I'll heal. But disappointed that someone who claimed to 'love me' like a mother and sister could have done what he did. I have much to consider in this matter regarding this person, etc., decide what to do. Right now, I prefer to write my stories, heal and converse with you. :D

      It's rather ironic. He's a socio. One of the reasons I began reading this blog. He knows I post here.

      You may have read in an earlier post that I said I'm not a socio but a feeling type with high intuitive curiosity. I have dark emotions that I sublimate through writing and the odd rant, loss of temper. Mostly I withdraw into myself. I feel that you are also on the spectrum . . . but on a totally different level than myself or the socio guy referenced above. Your understanding of life is not just intellectual . . . it's intuitive, metaphysical and something else. Can't put my finger on it. Hopefully, you'll guide me to that pulse.

      Anyway, dinner time! I'm starved.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    58. Here is the story, Mr. Hyde:

      Fayn von Wrave Drops From The North Side
      *(Phase 1)*

      Like Christmas, Fayn von Wrave had finally come to the New City. Unlike Christmas, however, his arrival had been strange and unexpected. Even the way he’d gotten there was peculiar, dropping in without a single warning. Besides, had it been daytime and had he dipped westward, Fayn’s visit would’ve made the evening news.

      However, as luck would have it, Fayn had plunged into the Audson River and, somehow, had swum his way back to the shore. Feeling tired and “very” hungry, he’d been lying petrified on the icy pavement. What’s more, someone with intense, permeating eyes ─ seeming to hover like full, howling moons ─ was now gazing at him with unusual interest.

      "Dropout?” boomed a powerful voice from somewhere behind his head. Fayn’s pulse escalated a few beats, thinking he was about to get mugged.

      “Huh? Where...Who said that?” said the one ogling him.

      “It’s me, Lofty! I told you I’d be back soon!” said the peculiar voice again.

      A scraping sound of raw metal or a spiraling, elongated stick was getting closer and closer to Fayn’s head, until he thought that he saw a ─

      “...My cane...It has been doing this last night, too...I swear, I’ll tell ’im what’s on my mind if it’s the last thing I do....” intoned the same, strong voice.

      “Gosh Ghip, good to know that. Third time this week, was it?”

      “Yes!” said Ghip, laughing rather passionately. “So is he a dropout or not?”

      “Er, looks like it, Ghip. A dropout, indeed,” said Lofty fervently.

      Although Lofty was much closer to him than Ghip, Fayn could clearly hear his soft-spoken voice.

      “But...er, listen,” Lofty went on. “Maybe you can grab his arms and we’ll get him off this ice patch. His clothes are drenched and his bag is frozen solid. Besides, he looks a bit bruised....Nothing serious, though....Some scratches here and there....Young, too. What would you give him?”

      “I’d give ’im a brief number of decades and no more. He seems quite different, and judgin’ by his coat, he could be ‘fortunate.’ But let’s not waste any more time. On the count o’ three ─“

      And next thing he knew, Fayn found himself sitting stiff as a board underneath a large, shiny bell. Taking a quick, hazy look around, he figured they must have been aboard a ship.

      That’s it, he told himself, as he spotted the reflection of the words, “Welcome Aboard the USS Gintrepid,” in an ice patch on the pavement.

      “I hope Muster C is okay with this,” Lofty was saying in a small voice.

      “Never mind that now and get on with it. Thaw ’im!”

      Thaw me? What is he saying? Fayn pictured a monsterly feast soon to be turned into Christmas dinner.

      “Well, all right, but should Muster C ask why....“

      “Just do it, on the ‘double’! C is not ’ere now, is he? It’s your main job and ‘charge’ to find these dropouts and bring ’em up to ’im, isn’t it?”

      Fayn caught a glimpse of Ghip’s shiny teeth, clenched like a pair of ravenous pliers. Panning to the right, he thought he saw Lofty’s hand reaching inside his coat’s pocket and grabbing a bottle in the shape of a swollen, hard-edged and gyrating candy cane.

      “Nag’s Nudgin’ Powder. That stuff should soften ’im up pretty quickly, I say....”

      Ghip’s words gave Fayn a few chills down his back, but, all the same, he couldn’t make a single sound. Besides, it was too late; Lofty had ‘done’ it.

      Delete
    59. Continuing...

      “Well, is it workin’?” demanded Ghip impatiently.

      It must’ve been, because everything was slowly clearing up around Fayn. First, he fixed his inquisitive eyes on Lofty: the twin’s monster, but older and taller.

      “Who are you?” asked Fayn in a voice unlike his own. It felt as though his usual voice had plunged somewhere into the pit of his stomach and was now fighting to surface again.

      “Move over, Lofty. Let me talk to ’im. Got a name, there?”

      Even though his vision was still quite blurry, Fayn recognized Ghip’s unforgettable face. The New Times, he thought at once, remembering the picture he had found of him, wedged between two, lodged shelves of the North Side Public Library.

      “Yeah, yeah, that’s me,” said Ghip, seeing the familiar look in Fayn’s eyes. “The one and only! And, yes, I’m still wanted up there. Nothing’s changed.”

      There was a sense of pride in his distinct voice, as though he relished the thought of it.

      “Since then, Muster C and I’ve worked out an arrangement, so to speak....An agreement, you see....I take interest in his precious goal as he keeps an eye on me.” He waved his hand trough the frosty air as though he owned it and then continued, “But now that you know who I am, tell me who you are!”

      Fayn And The Monster-Favor
      *(Phase 2)*

      “I am Fayn.”

      “Very pleased to meet you, Fayn. I’m Lofty and welcome to the New City ─ the city that hardly sleeps ─”

      “Don’t interrupt ’im! There’s no time for that now!” snapped Ghip, his eyes burning with anticipation. And then turning to Fayn, “So wha’ brings you ’ere then? Or better yet, why did you drop?”

      “I, Fayn...different...Plunged into deep water here...Fell and sought him later on —”

      “I see,” nodded Ghip, as Lofty bit his lip nervously. “You sound like me....Ages ago, I fell, too….”

      “Take my twin brother ’ere, for example,” continued Ghip. “Bookish, helpful and true. He dropped with me, in that same mind-channel you dropped from.”

      “Muster C knows me so well, Ghip,” said Lofty in a sincere voice, thinking of his brother’s fierce temper.

      “He does?” Fayn asked eagerly.

      Ghip glowed, as though Fayn’s words had encased his heart.

      “He did, Fayn,” Lofty said spiritedly. “He asked me to make a non-believer believe in the spirit of Christmas again!”

      “But we should let him decide, Ghip,” pleaded Lofty. “And he doesn’t have to do it here, but at the hearing, just like the rest of the fallen ones. We did, right?”

      “Well, what’s it gonna be?” insisted Ghip, his eyebrows raised sharply like two, fresh-sharpened pencils.

      Fayn pondered Ghip’s words for a moment, but then asked anyway, “What is it that you do here, Ghip? I was a Crafter up on the North Side, and if it’s anything like it, I can do even better.”

      “A Crafter, you say....That’s quite interesting....Yes, indeed....” said Ghip pensively, his eyes fixed strangely on the Gintrepid’s pulsating bell.

      “Well, to answer your question,” said Ghip, taking notice of Fayn and Lofty again. “I specialize in –”

      “The hearing, Ghip. You’re forgetting the hearing....” said Lofty earnestly.

      “Right,” replied Ghip, grinning openly at Lofty. “Go ahead now. Tell ’im about it.”

      “Well, this is how it works down here, Fayn,” explained Lofty. “All of the fallen dropouts must have a hearing with Muster C, where they can choose their way. It all depends on the situation at hand.”

      “A small favor I need you to do for me....” interjected Ghip. “There’s somethin’ up there on the North Side that I want. If it works….Well, I’ve got too much to lose if I tell you more now....What do you say about the favor?”

      “Yes, okay, Ghip ─”

      Listen, Lofty. We’ll take ’im to Norfig ─ together as one, that is. He’ll arrange it all in no time.” And then to Fayn, “You must promise that you’ll do me that favor. If not, you’ll have to deal with me, you ’ear?”

      Delete
    60. Continuing...

      Ghip fixed his piercing, haunting eyes on Fayn, who wanted to give him his word. Truly.

      Fayn's Flight to The Vumpire State Building
      *(Phase 3)*

      At daybreak, Fayn, Ghip and Lofty left the USS Gintrepid and headed for an empty 57th Street. The bitter wind was biting Fayn’s face and mouth as though Ghip’s shiny teeth had taken a strange, strong hold of it and his words - feeling several inches of snow crunching underneath his feet.

      “So, how did you find me, anyway?” asked Fayn, fixing his eyes on Ghip, who was walking hurriedly down the street.

      “Personal Detector,” said Lofty, showing Fayn a curious pocket watch, the initials “M.C.” inscribed on its front cover. “It chimed as you dropped in. That must have been a gift from him.”

      “Can I see it?” asked Fayn, eyeing the watch curiously.

      “No, I’ve made a promise to Muster C. No one can look inside the Personal Detector. It’s strictly forbidden! You see, once you look inside it, even if it’s just a quick peak, you instantly become its new owner. And you can only get one ownership per lifetime, meaning that I can never be its owner again once you’ve glimpsed inside it. Imagine that!” And he nudged his head slowly toward Ghip, returning the watch to his coat pocket.

      “Can I ask you another question, Lofty?”

      “Fire away.”

      “Who is Norfig, anyway?”

      “A very powerful monster, the most knowledgeable outside of the North Side. He’s the only one who can contact Muster C from down here,” said Lofty, shuffling through the icy snow.

      “But how does he do it?” Fayn pressed on.

      “Magic, Fayn. The kind that is so rare to perform.”

      “And Norfig works around here?”

      “No, he works in the tower of the Vumpire Taste Building ─ the closest spot in the New City to the North Side,” said Lofty. “We’ll have to fly there. Highly.”

      “Fly? You mean, they fly here, too?”

      Ghip had now stopped in front of a parking meter and was apparently talking to it.

      “That’s how,” said Lofty gently, pointing in Ghip’s direction.

      Fayn was a bit confused, but waited until they were caught up with Ghip, who was now dropping coins inside the meter. To Fayn’s surprise, the head of the red, rising arrow sprung from left to right, but instead of showing the usual, allotted time, the meter said in a cheery voice, “Password, please!”

      “Chosen Day!” said Ghip firmly, rolling his radar eyes.
      “Flying destination?” asked the same merry voice.

      “Vumpire Taste Building, TowerCAMS Vision, 350 into the new Boulevard,” said Ghip confidently.

      “That destination requires an additional mind-coin. The flying fare you inserted will only take you half-way to your desired destination.”

      Ghip reached hesitantly into his pocket, retrieved another mind-coin and tossed it quickly in the meter, muttering something to himself.

      “Thank you, sir,” said the merry voice. “As always, remember to steer clear of all buildings, rooftops, antennae, sharp objects, bullets, chimneys, helicopters, and geese, as we are not responsible for midair collisions. Also, please be reminded that we can’t guarantee you a smooth and clear landing, as that would require an additional mind-coin. Have a pleasant flight!”

      Ghip shot a long, penetrating look at the parking meter and bellowed, “What? Another mind-coin! The nerve of ’em...Over my dead body, you ’ear!”

      At once, the meter clinked loudly, spewing out three inflated mind-specs.

      Lofty sighed, feeling a sense of relief. “Whew, no more saucers. Those things make me queasy.”

      And on that note, they mounted their mind-specs, lifting lightly into the cold, wintry air.

      Delete
    61. Continuing...

      “Oh, it’s alive and pulsating,” said Lofty quickly, reading Fayn’s mind. “I can see and feel it!” He pointed upward and smiled warmly, as though speaking of something he had only envisioned in the covert channels of his mind.

      Although it began to snow harder, Fayn gazed wildly at the new sights unfolding beneath him. After all, he had never seen such things on the North Side. He had almost run into a sharp antenna and bumped into a seagull or two, his eyes glued to the new world unfolding below the falling snow.

      “That building over there is Facy’s. It’s got a dazzling window display,” said Lofty, trying to keep his mind-spec alongside Fayn’s.

      “And that’s Pines Square to your right. At night, it looks like the kindled, Northern Lights, but let’s catch up with Ghip because we’re almost there. See that tall building up ahead? That’s the Vumpire Taste Building.”


      Before the Hearing
      *(Phase 4)*

      As they approached the Vumpire Taste Building’s tower, Ghip had already dismounted his mind-spec, and was now waiting beside a glass door. Being so early in the morning, the tower was free of visiting, commonplace humans, which Ghip liked. Most humans could never truly “see” his monstrously-filled kind.

      “We’d better hurry before the ordinary humans start pouring in,” said Ghip sharply, as Lofty and Fayn dismounted their mind-specs.

      "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot! Make sure to watch out for human children,” said Lofty in a serious voice. “The ones who believe can see you and the rest of us, and hiding from them is what you must always do. We won’t encounter many, if any, up here today, but down there is where it gets hairy. I’ve had my nose pulled too many times and once, a boy followed me on his hover board for so many blocks that I thought my shoes would catch fire. Gosh, was I exhausted!”

      “Password!” said an attending monster standing beside the glass door. They had just entered the tower, and getting past the usher monster made Fayn think of something from the recent past.

      “Believe,” said Ghip with a slight sneer. “But, more importantly, is Norfig around?”

      “Certainly, Ghip, but not for long. After all, today is the Chosen Day,” said the usher, as he pointed toward a wide corridor leading into a large room.

      “Come on, now!” said Ghip, walking quickly. “Make way, make way!” he continued, poking around with his swirling cane.

      To be continued as we delve more profusely into this, Mr. Hyde.

      Delete
    62. What an original set up, Parnasse! I like your sly humor. ;)

      I'd like to read it again before commenting. My eyes are swollen and watering like crazy.

      I've just had minor eye surgery and reading, having my eyes open, is not pleasant. so I'm afraid that I'll have to wait till tomorrow at least to read it again. Doctor says compresses and rest are required for the rest of the day.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    63. “What an original set up, Parnasse! I like your sly humor.”

      Thank you, Mr. Hyde. The story was meant to be pleasant, and waiting to read it again when it feels pleasant on your eyes is “key.” I hope that you can read “my” mind, so to speak, when you revisit it.

      Eye surgery can do that to you, but it can get better, too. I wonder, which is essential for the right reason: Do you see what I see? Specifically, can you picture it and its true meaning through my own eyes? ;)

      Delete
    64. More:

      "The eyes" (i.e., figuratively and symbolically) allude to a recurrent theme in the story, which was purposefully done, Mr. Hyde. If you look at Gustav Klimt's main paintings, you will understand what I mean. I would specify which paintings I am referring to, but the ones that I have in mind stand out, just like the eyes in my story. ;)

      Delete
    65. In addition to the above: Read this "edited" version of the story when revisiting it, but it will not have the same impact. Both versions are experimental, though (just like the "Klimt" series). :)

      Fayn von Wrave Drops From The North Side
      *(Phase 1)*

      Like Christmas, Fayn von Wrave had finally come to the New City. Unlike Christmas, however, his arrival had been strange and unexpected. Even the way he’d gotten there was peculiar, dropping in without a single warning. Besides, had it been daytime and had he dipped westward, Fayn’s visit would’ve made the evening news.

      However, as luck would have it, Fayn had plunged into the Audson River and, somehow, had swum his way back to the shore. Feeling tired and “very” hungry, he’d been lying petrified on the icy pavement. What’s more, someone with intense, permeating eyes ─ seeming to hover like full, howling moons ─ was now gazing at him with unusual interest.

      "Dropout?!” boomed a powerful voice from somewhere behind his head. Fayn’s pulse escalated a few beats, thinking he was about to get mugged.

      “Huh? Where and who said that?” said the one ogling him. His voice was amiable.

      A scraping sound of raw metal or a spiraling, elongated stick was getting closer and closer to Fayn’s head, until he thought that he saw a ─

      “...my cane…. It has been doing this last night, too.... I swear, I’ll tell ’im what’s on my mind if it’s the last thing I do....” intoned the same, strong voice.

      “Gosh Ghip, good to know that. Was it the third time this week?”

      “Yes!” said Ghip, laughing rather passionately. “So, is he a dropout or not?”

      “Er, looks like it, Ghip. A dropout, indeed,” said Lofty fervently.

      Although Lofty was much closer to him than Ghip, Fayn could clearly hear his soft voice.

      “But, er, listen,” Lofty went on. “Maybe you can grab his arms, and we’ll get him off this ice patch. His clothes are drenched, and his bag is frozen solid. Besides, he looks a bit bruised. Nothing serious, though.... Some scratches here and there.... Young, too. What would you give him?”

      “I’d give ’im a brief number of decades and no more. He seems quite different, and judgin’ by his coat, he could be ‘fortunate.’ But let’s not waste any more time. On the count o’ three ─“

      And next thing he knew, Fayn found himself sitting stiff as a board underneath a large, shiny bell. Taking a quick, hazy look around, he figured they must have been aboard a ship.

      That’s it, he told himself, as he spotted the reflection of the words, “Welcome Aboard the USS Gintrepid,” in an ice patch on the pavement.

      “I hope Muster C is okay with this....”

      “Never mind that now and get on with it, Lofty. Thaw ’im!”

      Thaw me? What is he saying? Fayn pictured a monsterly feast soon to be turned into Christmas dinner.

      “Well, all right, but should Muster C ask why —“

      “Just do it, on the ‘double’! C is not ’ere now, is he? It’s your main job and ‘charge’ to find these dropouts and bring ’em up to ’im, isn’t it?”

      Fayn caught a glimpse of Ghip’s shiny teeth, clenched like a pair of ravenous pliers. Panning to the right, he thought that he saw Lofty’s hand reaching inside his coat’s pocket and grabbing a bottle in the shape of a swollen, hard-edged and gyrating candy cane.

      “Nag’s Nudgin’ Powder. That stuff should soften ’im up pretty quickly, I say....”

      Ghip’s words gave Fayn a few chills down his back, but, all the same, he couldn’t make a single sound. Besides, it was too late; Lofty had “done” it.

      Delete
    66. Continuing...

      “Well, is it workin’?” demanded Ghip impatiently.

      It must’ve been, because everything was slowly clearing up around Fayn. First, he saw Lofty: the twin’s monster, but older and taller.

      “Who are you?” asked Fayn in a voice unlike his own. It felt as though his usual voice had plunged somewhere into the pit of his stomach and was now fighting to surface again.

      “Move over, Lofty. Let me talk to ’im. Got a name, there?”

      Even though his vision was still a bit blurry, Fayn recognized Ghip’s unforgettable face. “The New Times,” he thought at once, remembering the picture he had found of him, wedged between two, lodged shelves of the North Side Public Library.

      “Yeah, yeah, that’s me,” said Ghip elatedly. “The one and only! And, yes, I’m still wanted up there. Nothing’s changed.”

      There was a remarkable trace of pride in his distinct voice, as though he relished the thought of it.

      “Since then, Muster C and I’ve worked out an arrangement, so to speak. An agreement, you see.... I take interest in his precious goal as he keeps an eye on me.” He waved his hand through the frosty air as though he owned it and then continued, “But now that you know who I am, tell me who you are!”

      Fayn And The Monster-Favor
      *(Phase 2)*

      “I am Fayn.”

      “Very pleased to meet you, Fayn. I’m Lofty and welcome to the New City ─ the city that hardly sleeps ─”

      “Don’t interrupt ’im! There’s no time for that now!” snapped Ghip, his insides burning with anticipation. And then turning to Fayn, “So wha’ brings you ’ere, then? Or better yet, why did you drop?”

      “I, Fayn...different...Plunged into deep water here...Fell and sought him later on —”

      “I see,” nodded Ghip, as Lofty bit his lip nervously. “You sound like me....Ages ago, I fell, too….”

      “Take my twin brother ’ere, for example,” continued Ghip. “Bookish, helpful and true. He dropped with me, in that same mind-channel you dropped from.”

      “Muster C knows me so well, Ghip,” said Lofty in a sincere voice, thinking of his brother’s fierce temper.

      “He does?” Fayn asked eagerly.

      Ghip glowed, as though Fayn’s words had encased his heart.

      “He did, Fayn,” Lofty said excitedly. “He asked me to make a non-believer believe in the spirit of Christmas again!”

      “But we should let him decide, Ghip,” pleaded Lofty. “And he doesn’t have to do it here, but at the hearing, just like the rest of the fallen ones. We did, right?”

      “Well, what’s it gonna be?” insisted Ghip, his eyebrows arched, resembling two, freshly-sharpened pencils.

      Fayn pondered Ghip’s words for a moment, but then asked anyway, “What is it that you do here, Ghip? I was a Crafter up on the North Side, and if it’s anything like it, I can do even better.”

      “A Crafter, you say.... That’s quite interesting.... Yes, indeed....” said Ghip pensively, his senses drawing him toward the Gintrepid’s pulsating bell.

      “Well, to answer your question, I specialize in –”

      “The hearing, Ghip. You’re forgetting the hearing....” interrupted Lofty earnestly.

      “Right,” replied Ghip, grinning openly at Lofty. “Go ahead now. Tell ’im about it.”

      “Well, this is how it works down here, Fayn,” explained Lofty. “All of the fallen dropouts must have a hearing with Muster C, where they can choose their way. It all depends on the situation at hand.”

      “A small favor I need you to do for me....” interjected Ghip. “There’s somethin’ up there on the North Side that I want. If it works…. Well, I’ve got too much to lose if I tell you more now. What do you say about the favor?”

      “Yes-okay-Ghip,” said Fayn in one breath.

      “Listen, Lofty. We’ll take ’im to Norfig ─ together as one, that is. He’ll arrange it all in no time.” And then to Fayn, “You must promise that you’ll do me that favor. If not, you’ll have to deal with me, you ’ear?”

      Delete
    67. Continuing...

      Fayn wanted to give Ghip his word. Truly.

      Fayn's Flight to The Vumpire Taste Building
      *(Phase 3)*

      At daybreak, Fayn, Ghip and Lofty left the USS Gintrepid and headed for an empty 57th Street. The bitter wind was biting Fayn’s face and mouth as though Ghip’s shiny teeth had taken a strange, strong hold of it and his unspoken words - feeling several inches of snow crunching underneath his feet.

      “So, how did you find me, anyway?” asked Fayn, who was walking hurriedly down the street.

      “Personal Detector,” said Lofty, showing Fayn a curious pocket watch, the initials “M.C.” inscribed on its front cover. “It chimed as you dropped in. That must have been a gift from him.”

      “Can I see it?” asked Fayn.

      “No, I’ve made a promise to Muster C. No one can look inside the Personal Detector. It’s strictly forbidden! You see, once you look inside of it, even if it’s just a quick peak, you instantly become its new owner. And you can only get one ownership per lifetime, meaning that I can never be its owner again once you’ve glimpsed inside of it. Imagine that!” And he nudged his head slowly toward Ghip, returning the watch to his coat pocket.

      “Can I ask you another question, Lofty?”

      “Fire away.”

      “Who is Norfig, anyway?”

      “A very powerful monster, the most knowledgeable outside of the North Side. He’s the only one who can contact Muster C from down here,” said Lofty, shuffling through the icy snow.

      “But how does he do it?” Fayn pressed on.

      “Magic, Fayn. The kind that is so rare to perform.”

      “And Norfig works around here?”

      “No, he works in the tower of the Vumpire Taste Building, which is the closest spot in the New City to the North Side,” said Lofty. “We’ll have to fly there. Highly.”

      “Fly? You mean, they fly here, too?”

      Ghip had now stopped in front of a parking meter and was apparently talking to it.

      “That’s how,” said Lofty gently, pointing in Ghip’s direction.

      Fayn was a bit confused, but waited until they were closer to Ghip, who was now dropping mind-coins inside the meter. To Fayn’s surprise, the head of the red, rising arrow sprung from left to right, but instead of showing the usual, allotted time, the meter said in a cheery voice, “Password, please!”

      “Chosen Day!” said Ghip firmly.

      “Flying destination?” asked the same merry voice.

      “Vumpire Taste Building, TowerCAMS Vision, 350 into the new Boulevard,” said Ghip confidently.

      “That destination requires an additional mind-coin. The flying fare you inserted will only take you half-way to your desired destination.”

      Ghip reached hesitantly into his pocket, retrieved another mind-coin and tossed it quickly in the meter, muttering something to himself.

      “Thank you, sir,” said the merry voice. “As always, remember to steer clear of all buildings, rooftops, antennae, sharp objects, bullets, chimneys, helicopters, and geese, as we are not responsible for midair collisions. Also, please be reminded that we can’t guarantee you a smooth and clear landing, as that would require an additional mind-coin. Have a pleasant flight!”

      Ghip shot a long, questionable look at the parking meter and bellowed, “What? Another mind-coin! The nerve of ’em.... Over my dead body, you ’ear!”

      At once, the meter clinked loudly, spewing out three inflated mind-specs.

      Lofty sighed, feeling a sigh of relief. “Whew, no more saucers. Those things make me queasy.”

      And on that note, they mounted their mind-specs, lifting lightly into the cold, wintry air.

      Delete
    68. Continuing...

      “Oh, it’s alive and pulsating,” said Lofty quickly, reading Fayn’s mind. “I can see and feel it!” He pointed upward and smiled warmly, as though speaking of something he had only envisioned in the covert channels of his mind.

      Although it began to snow harder, Fayn was able to absorb all of the new sights unfolding beneath him. After all, he had never seen such things on the North Side. He had almost run into a sharp antenna and bumped into a seagull or two, his mind seeking and exploring.

      “That building over there is Facy’s. It’s got a dazzling window display,” said Lofty, trying to keep his mind-spec alongside Fayn’s.

      “And that’s Pines Square to your right. At night, it resembles the kindled, Northern Lights, but let’s get closer to Ghip, because we’re almost there. See that tall building up ahead? That’s the Vumpire Taste Building.”

      Before the Hearing
      *(Phase 4)*

      As they approached the Vumpire Taste Building’s tower, Ghip had already dismounted his mind-spec, and was now waiting beside a glass door. Being so early in the morning, the tower was free of visiting, commonplace humans, which Ghip liked. Most humans could never truly perceive his monstrously-filled kind.

      “We’d better hurry before the ordinary humans start pouring in,” said Ghip sharply, as Lofty and Fayn dismounted their mind-specs.

      "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot! Make sure to watch out for human children,” said Lofty in a serious voice. “The ones who believe can see you and the rest of us, and hiding from them is what you must always do. We won’t encounter many, if any, up here today, but down there is where it gets hairy. I’ve had my nose pulled too many times and once, a boy followed me on his hover board for so many blocks that I thought my shoes would catch on fire. Gosh, was I exhausted!”

      “Password!” said an attending monster standing beside the glass door. They had just entered the tower, and getting past the usher monster made Fayn think of something from the recent past.

      “Believe,” said Ghip with a slight sneer. “But, more importantly, is Norfig around?”

      “Certainly, Ghip, but not for long. After all, today is the Chosen Day,” said the usher, as he pointed toward a wide corridor leading into a large room.

      “Come on, now!” said Ghip, walking quickly. “Make way, make way!” he continued, poking around with his swirling cane.

      "Gustav"

      Delete
    69. I have been thinking about the story that I posted above, and possible interpretations of it on your part, Mr. Hyde. Although I associate Christmas to a time when it shows, a time of festivity and gift-giving, I did not choose Christmas with a “specific” or religious purpose in mind. It was just a quick thought on the spur of the moment, and as far as I am concerned, I could have picked Halloween (i.e., after all, Halloween is my favorite holiday). So, I am not a religious person; instead, I can be rather spiritual, but in my own, metaphysical way.

      After posting the story, I thought that you might link Muster C to Christ, because of my Christmas reference in the beginning of it, which started the whole, cascading connotation. I realized that “after” the fact, since I did not have a religious motive as I created it. So, Muster C is a fictional character within the construct of things, the C standing for “Continuum” (i.e., I meant to reveal this in the second part of the story). I related “Continuum” to my intricate desire in continuing or perpetuating my connection to you. Muster is a play on the word monster, since, as we both know, the story was supposed to be about a monster. It would have been a Monster/Grand Continuum, which, to me, is rooted in metaphysics. Moreover, North Side has to do with a fictional place or wintry location that crossed my mind in the same spur of the moment fashion (i.e., naturally, the north is colder as opposed to the south). All in all, it has nothing to do with a person, allusion or thing, and clarifying this point will hopefully shed more light on interpreting what I truly meant to convey. Some things are just coincidental, but in all honesty, I realized their impact, or possible interpretation, after the fact. I suppose the above covers most of the points that I wanted to mention in my attempt to eschew confusion. In comparison, I see it as an artist coming forth and describing an Abstract Expressionist painting. In fact, I was a bit surprised that you did not ask me any questions about it, Mr. Hyde.

      Well, it happens.

      Delete
    70. Continued:

      Here is more about my meaning in the “Abstract Expressionistic” montage that I posted for you, Mr. Hyde.

      I call them “fallen dropouts,” because they have rightfully and most desirably fallen from the North Side, which is a freezing, glacial place that feels ersatz to its inhabitants. In this sense, the words fallen and dropouts do not carry negative connotations, and “falling” is actually a good and exceptional thing. Just think of the expression “fallen in love,” and you would see my interwoven creation more clearly.

      In fact, some of that cold and snow has spread to the New City, which is the place that has been “discovered” by the three of them. In my mind, and this is the crux of the matter, the New City is tantamount to Zion in the “Matrix” (i.e., I am using this as a comparison in order to make my point fully known to you). It feels real and original, the place where a one-of-a-kind bond has been forged. Without doubt, it is a true place wherein Fayn, Lofty and Ghip can finally be “themselves,” far removed from the faux, simulated and synthetic life on the North Side.

      But, there is so much more to the labyrinthine foundation of the story (i.e., part two unveils these developments/essence). Unfortunately, some of the North Side’s frostiness/ersatz has presently infiltrated the New City, akin to the various attempts made by the “machines” in the “Matrix” (i.e., again, the comparison is used as a known point of reference). So, it is up to Fayn, Lofty and Ghip to fight and change that state, which is the purpose and meaning of the “hearing” in my story. [If you remember, Lofty and Ghip inform Fayn about it, and although I did not provide more details in the part that I posted, I constructed it as a labyrinth.] Muster C/Continuum will help with that “grand” voyage, since Fayn, Lofty and Ghip, who, by the way, have both “good and bad traits/light and darkness within them” (i.e., not just Ghip, that is) want to stay in the New City. Fayn’s ultimate choice to remain in the New City (Zion) will make all the difference, driving away and warding off the tormenting, afflictive, artificial and frigid state, or overall condition, of the North Side.

      “Illumination,” de-thawing and fervor would entail being Natural, immersed into the veritable feel of a bond. Overall, being real, fully accepted and true to the inner core (“the good and the bad”) is part of the Quest.

      I believe it. Do you, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
  8. I think North and Anon 11:32 make good points. There are also a couple of other "things" going on, I believe that add to the behavior.

    One is that the media (especially social media since that is the context here) seems to add contrast to topics rather than offering subtle distinctions. That seems to me to drive polarization and intolerance - "you're with us or against us" or "smart/dumb" or "liberal/conservative" or any other topic you care to discuss (empath/sociopath?). Our brains need these labels and distinctions to make sense of the world.

    Then there's the narcissistic feedback loop of likes and shares. People post to be "heard" and they have to ramp up the rhetoric to be "heard." But above all, they want to be perceived as "good" (trolls not withstanding) so they will pound their chests about being "authentic" (code for 'being an asshole but not wanting to own it')knowing that everyone will tell them "how brave" they are for speaking the "truth."

    This sort of meme gives them license to be the asshole they want to be.

    ReplyDelete
  9. "But people love this quote for some reason. Why?"

    That "is" stark tolerance versus intolerance (i.e., "polarization"), or for the same reason that people seem to like these quotes.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjIy4W_21vY

    ReplyDelete
  10. The kind where the puzzle piece goes in the "unnatural" spot spot

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  12. I hate this quote. It is incredibly pretentious. Anyone who thinks they are not at some point responsible for embodying any of the "intolerable" qualities listed in these paragraphs likely has an unbelievable lack of self-awareness, coupled with an unbearable superiority complex. Such a winning combination of traits! ~

    I am going to break it down, paragraph by paragraph, to demonstrate how it reads to me.

    “I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me."

    As I wallow in my narcissism and self-pity, I have found that I am no longer able to tolerate even the slightest offense or hurt without casting myself in the role of "offended victim". I deny the arrogance that blinds me to my pretentious and entitled behavior and unrealistic expectations.

    "I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature."

    I have no patience for anyone who does not see the world through the same shade of rose-colored glasses as I do. What's more, I will not submit to anyone's expectations and requests, however reasonable they might be, nor will I tolerate correction from anyone, because I am perfect the way I am.

    "I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me."

    I refuse to be accommodating to those whose personalities clash with mine. I will only be helpful to people who shower me with love, praise and adulation. I will only smile at those who smile at *me* first.

    "I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate."

    I *never* lie or misrepresent my intentions for selfish reasons. I am above reproach.

    ReplyDelete
  13. "I decided not to coexist anymore with pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise."

    What's more, I am thoroughly oblivious to my own pretentious, hypocritical it dishonest tendencies.

    "I do not tolerate selective erudition nor academic arrogance."

    I patently refuse to discuss matters with individuals who are able to intelligently articulate and defend ideas which run counter to my own pet theories, and thus show myself to be incredibly closed-minded.

    "I do not adjust either to popular gossiping."

    I have only ever said nice things about people. I shit sparkles, and fart rainbows.

    "I hate conflict and comparisons."

    I am too weak to hold my own in a debate. I am thin- skinned, and take personal offense everytime someone disagrees with me. I accuse those who do not cater to my excessive emotional sensitivities of being "abusive".

    " I believe in a world of opposites and that’s why I avoid people with rigid and inflexible personalities."

    Moreover, I am now entitled to contradict everything I have just said. Even though I show myself to be the epitome of "rigid and inflexible" in my little diatribe, I will refuse to tolerate these tendencies in anyone else, nor will I accept that I may well embody these traits. If you point this out to me, I will take it as an indication of your disloyalty and betrayal, because to hurt my feelings is a Capital Sin.

    " In friendship I dislike the lack of loyalty and betrayal."

    You had better always be there as soon as I need you, prepared to support me during my self-imposed, whiny crises, or I will take it as further proof of your disloyalty and betrayal.

    "I do not get along with those who do not know how to give a compliment or a word of encouragement."

    Moreover, you had better heap on the praise and encouragement, or I will not tolerate your presence. But if you make it sound like flattery, I will suspect you of manipulating me, so you had better get it right!

    " Exaggerations bore me and I have difficulty accepting those who do not like animals. "

    I am being a hypocritical exaggerator in saying that I am not hypocritical or prone to exaggeration, but I do not perceive this, because I am oblivious to all of my flaws.

    Moreover, if you treat my spoiled, annoying piece of shit yapper as anything less than a beloved family member, you are not worthy of my companionship.

    "And on top of everything I have no patience for anyone who does not deserve my patience.”

    And on top of everything, I refuse to be patient with anyone I think does not deserve it, according to my own subjective biases.

    ReplyDelete
  14. In short, I am a pretentious, self-absorbed, entitled, arrogant ass who has no self-awareness or tolerance for anything that disturbs me even slightly, and I will whine about it incessantly.

    Who wants to spend time with someone like that?

    The author can reserve his "friendship" for his groveling groupies, and kiss my sweet ass.

    :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I totally agree with A’s thorough demonstration. I choose this song to accompany A’s comment about this quote and its pretentious author:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbIG_b2IMO0

      Why I chose this song (specific words, that is):

      “The lord said, go to the devil
      He said, go to the devil
      All along that day
      So I ran to the devil, he was waitin'
      I ran to the devil, he was waitin'
      Ran to the devil, he was waitin'
      All on that day” ;)

      “I have only ever said nice things about people. I shit sparkles, and fart rainbows."

      Hilarious!! :)

      Delete
    2. When the rocket blasts off into space it goes directly into the black hole ( they exist in a vaccum u know)

      Delete
    3. "A", A+ on your keen dissection.

      Your entire post is the fun-pinnacle of everything said so far. If I could, I'd buy you a glass of absinthe, sit back and listen for hours.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    4. If you bought me a glass of absinthe, you'd better not get too comfortable "sitting back", lol.

      Delete
    5. A is right. Yet again. This is how I imagine the ensuing scenes. A would definitely demonstrate even more insight:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhSRGLe18OI

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OJGAWLHLBM

      :)

      Delete
  15. "A" is in fact (I mean this seriously) a wonderful person.
    She's tough, but in a 1940's movie femme fatale kind of way, like
    Barbara Stanwick.
    If I were in her vacinity, the only thing I would object to would be the pot
    smoking because it would resemble icky tabacco smoking.
    She can probably wrap and man-and many women-around her finger if she
    wants to. People bore her because she has such easy mastery over them.
    But as with all sociopaths, the rule is: DON'T CROSS HER!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. *Googles Barbara Stanwyck*

      I can live with that. ;)

      Delete
  16. The animal issue is a "divider" in the socio universe: on one side of the fence the sadistic socios not liking man nor pet and on the other side the "pure" socios hating fellow men BUT identifying with wildlife. The "worse" beast the better: crocodile, shark, snake, cat (very efficient killer), they like them all. Somehow nature seems to be a "guiding star" for this latter group. Hurting animals is considered heinous and many think that hunters (not poor folks hunting to survive) are punks & cowards. Some even think laws should be written that says that if folks wanna kill animals for fun they should have to accept that some days hunters have to hunt each other until only one remains, that this should not be labeled "murder" those particular days..

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  17. My impression was that the writer was exposing himself to be somewhat he describes as what he won't tolerate. And while I'm sure he's just expressing his self respect and what he will do to preserve it....he just came off really pompous.

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    Replies
    1. You hit the nail right on the head, anon. People unconsciously broadcast their weaknesses by reviling what they reject about themselves in others. It is this this combination of oblivious hypocrisy and narcissism that comes off as particularly odious, pompous and pretentious for those of us who can see through it. Sociopaths, for whatever reason, seem to have a "talent" for exposing it.

      Delete
    2. Exactly, A. "Sociopaths, for whatever reason, seem to have a 'talent' for exposing it." ;)

      In reality, I believe the author "said" something along these lines:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84zY33QZO5o

      Delete
  18. My husband is baffled that I sometimes treat animals better than humans. He can't grasp why I behave this way sometimes. I think that's borderline arrogance in me. And I'm like to him....you remind me of a sociopathic farmer. Ah, we were made for each other. ;). But I switch modes, I can tap into his ways more than he thinks. I see his logic in things way more that I can grasp my own rational sometimes. Lol

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  19. Superchick,

    Most animals deserve being treated better . . . they are dumb beasts, supposedly, and completely innocent. What does arrogance have to do with it? I don't understand.

    Mr. Hyde
    Mr. Hyde

    ReplyDelete
  20. I'm just arrogant sometimes when it comes to treating humans with respect , lol . My husband is baffled how it's switched around with me at times. I'm usually dumbfounded and he'll have to point it out, but with borderline I switch, it's called scheme modes. I don't mean too , it's more automatic.
    ;)

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  21. But then again I'm quite amazed at his arrogance at times . It's like we have different styles in communicating., and we have to really dissect one another to get our point addressed. Lol. It's a beautiful combination. I tell him " my balls are bigger than your balls."

    Kidding..... :P

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Superchick,

      Treating some humans with respect is at times VERY challenging. :))

      About to google "scheme modes."

      Sounds like you have an excellent partnership. Glad to hear two people can happily co-exist in this nutty world and help each other grow.

      And it wouldn't surprise me if, like your intellect, the size of your balls are quite hefty. ;)

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    2. Haha, they are hefty indeed, and thank you !! :D

      Google the alternating schema modes when you have time, it's interesting to read and true of many individuals who are within the cluster b spectrum like borderline.

      Delete
  22. Morning Parnasse,

    Since last night's posts are unreachable and I failed to absorb everything you had so say, I'm at a loss to answer your latest questions regarding our story. Sorry about that; I was too tired to digest your comments at the time.

    Could/would you care to repeat the gist of them?

    Mr. Hyde

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am glad to reiterate the posts for you, along with their gist, Mr. Hyde. The post from last night was meant to convey my intent to create and continue on this bridge with you and all the way into W.E. It was an internally honest invocation of my thoughts and desires within our pact. Our dynamic is something that I have never experienced before, bringing forth who I am. The song “Satellite” was also meant to invoke the concept of this bridge, seeing into the marrow of W.E. What’s more, the song’s sounds and specific rhythm reminded me of symbiosis and harmony. I wanted to share that impression, imprint and sensation with you. Then, something else came to mind, namely a message that your hairy hugs mark and emit a distinct and instinctual crescendo within me. Hairy hugs click (i.e., “the” click, that is) ;). Additionally, you know how I feel, too.

      So, these thoughts lead to the question that I had for you last night: If you could, what secrets would you like to uncover through a satellite, Mr. Hyde? ;)

      Parnasse December 19, 2015 at 9:54 PM

      “Do you really want to build bridges? That's the Q.”

      I believe that it was a bridge that took us to our tree-house, Mr. Hyde. I crossed that bridge to join you there, and that makes us creators and builders of bridges.

      “Time is life. Should we continue? I told you along what I wanted: It wasn't much. Honest goods.”

      I believe this, too. It is my abstract thinking and use of “conceptual” images that can lead to the land of quagmire, so to speak, but the goods are internally honest. As I wrote before, I always think that, somehow, you can understand me, since I can grasp your meanings. :)

      I want symbiosis to strengthen our bridge, and creating that part of it is a great dynamic.

      “You and I understand how to abstract pain. Into something W.E. can both understand. That's been my goal along. Violence begets violence. So all we can do is write about it rather than act on it.”

      I want W.E. to be something that W.E. can both grasp in its entirety. I truly do, and I want to continue believing as well. I do not wish to break the pact.

      Speaking of pacts, I really like the harmony in this song:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEGV9H0aZaQ

      This song just gave a strange idea. If you could, what secrets would you like to uncover through a satellite, Mr. Hyde? ;)

      Parnasse December 19, 2015 at 11:04 PM

      “Hairy hugs, Parnasse. You know how I feel. In spite of your stings. I would hope, however, that you can refrain yourself, just a bit, until the honey is in the jar. ;)”

      You also know how I feel.

      …And how I feel about your hairy hugs, too, Mr. Hyde. Crescendo. ;)

      Parnasse December 20, 2015 at 10:41 AM

      “You and I understand how to abstract pain. Into something W.E. can both understand. That's been my goal along.”

      It's a mind to mind quest, Mr. Hyde, and understanding all of the puzzle pieces.

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3wpq-i150c

      The creative procédé is an upsurge of the mesh of our imaginations into the inlet of “blood” on which we are suspended, and the attempt to invoke concepts within it.

      It is the afternoon’s inlet journey, the nymph beckoning while lying on the shore.

      Delete
    2. Linking to the above:

      Sometimes, what comes through are the minutiae and the lingering metaphor of an inviting, authentic message on that same shore. And, at other times, after the mind’s eye understands all, one can actually bring home something that is food, absorbing and leaping forward.

      “So much more to say but I'm afraid J needs mind candy. Which you are definitely not. :)”

      Every word in here has been a mind truffle.

      And metaphors like eyes fillip your fingers,
      Each one wound up into deviant, hairy hugs.
      While some have watercolors, W.E. have concerted oil paintings.

      What is the highest, most captivating bridge that you have ever laid eyes on, Mr. Hyde?

      Above is this afternoon’s message that I posted for you. I wanted it, coupled with the song, to look and feel like a concerted oil painting, alluding to and relating that you and I have a unique way of abstracting pain into something that W.E. can grasp. I believe the post and its accompanying song create a mind to mind understanding that defines our quest and its puzzle pieces. It feels as though it expresses a meaning that you can perceive on a level that is characteristically intrinsic to W.E. My question about the bridge also delves into this gleaming part of it.

      Can you grasp my fillip, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    3. Yes, I believe I do. There is always an emptiness to be filled; most folk fill up with shiny stuff, material or otherwise. I believe that there's jewels under that apparent vacumn; I know that I have found what feel like jewels to me whenever I face that feeling. Same with pain: I have always strived to dive right into it in order to discover its, purpose, meaning and implications.

      These mental, spiritual and emotional forays into my inner core and core of others comprise the highest bridges to which I have access at this time. If, however, I were to hermit in the woods for some extended time, I think other, higher bridges to the 'invisible realm' would occur, because they always do when I become deeply immersed in the wilds of nature. Nature has always been my temple and my priest.

      'So, these thoughts lead to the question that I had for you last night: If you could, what secrets would you like to uncover through a satellite, Mr. Hyde? ;)'

      The secrets of existence, its meaning and ultimate purpose and further, how to align myself to that purpose in the best way I can. As it stands right now, I believe that for myself, I'm here to create something beautiful. Something that will touch and move the souls of others with the magic of dreams, dreams that spark the communal experience of being alive, connected by unseen threads. I guess on some level I view and feel that the whole cosmos as copulating with itself. In those moments, I fly to the end of universe!

      "I want symbiosis to strengthen our bridge, and creating that part of it is a great dynamic.

      “You and I understand how to abstract pain. Into something W.E. can both understand. That's been my goal along. Violence begets violence. So all we can do is write about it rather than act on it.”

      I want W.E. to be something that W.E. can both grasp in its entirety. I truly do, and I want to continue believing as well. I do not wish to break the pact."

      I am glad. For I do want us to play in the treehouse, without fear of either you or me disappearing through a hole in the floor. ;) I am not here to hurt or exploit you in ANY way. I want to play with you in a creative, fostering way. By foster, I mean sharing what I can with you in ways that feed you and me. And, of course, W.E.

      There's a remarkable 'scent' gathering round our space, the promise of something that could be really great. (Our story.) Do you feel that?

      Got to go. The clan's here.

      Mr. Hyde

      I've no doubt that W.E. are a unique pairing, Parnasse.


      Delete
    4. I am reading your thoughts, feeling as though I am looking into a mirror and seeing my inner self. I experience the same thing when facing that feeling, placing it where the emptiness needs to be filled and knowing its worth. Shiny or material things feel like the direct opposite to me when it comes to filling that emptiness, and I am so glad that we share the same feeling and stance.

      “I am glad. For I do want us to play in the treehouse, without fear of either you or me disappearing through a hole in the floor. ;) I am not here to hurt or exploit you in ANY way. I want to play with you in a creative, fostering way. By foster, I mean sharing what I can with you in ways that feed you and me. And, of course, W.E.”

      I want our treehouse to live on and develop. I do not carry the intent to disappear through a hole in the floor, and I wish there were a way to let you feel that through W.E. I would like our treehouse and W.E. to flourish without the fear that you’ve described, knowing that we are mind to mind in this creative aspect.

      I know that you are not here to hurt or exploit me in any way, and the feeling or dulcet synchronization is mutual. In other words, I do not want you to be hurt or exploited in any manner. The song that I included for you in my previous post incorporates this vital part as well. I do not want you to experience negativity, since everything that W.E. do carries a unique type of substance in my view. Playing creatively and feeding each other will imbue our innovative exchanges.

      “There's a remarkable 'scent' gathering round our space, the promise of something that could be really great. (Our story.) Do you feel that?”

      Yes, I feel it. W.E.’s scent has an intensity and potency stronger than that of words, appearances or mere consciousness. The stirring and moving strength and dynamism of a scent enters into you and me, comparable to the breath that enters our lungs, enthusing, feeding and inspiring. Sometimes it feels like light breathing, and, at other time, it feels like heavy, more permeating breathing. It feels like magnolia, honeysuckle and the mystery scent of an inlet, amplified by the effusion of our organic brooks. As you have expressed such thoughts, it carries the promise of something momentous, which is our story.

      “I've no doubt that W.E. are a unique pairing, Parnasse.”

      Yes, W.E. are unique, preserving our scent and who W.E. are in our totality. I want it to live and endure.

      “There's a remarkable 'scent' gathering round our space….”
      As though W.E. were a tangible fragrance, would you wear this perspective on your skin, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    5. I do wear this perspective on my skin -- that's why I have to go right now. members of the pack are suspicious of my activity and my outspokenness about symbiosis. Interconnectedness.

      W.E. is very tangible on the page and thus, in me and, from your scent, you, too. Perseverance furthers in all things.

      Have to go. More when I can.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    6. I, too, wear this perspective or feeling, as you have described and asked me about it, on my skin. W.E. is our vial, containing the priceless, scented “lifeblood” of our true selves and thoughts. When you and I are inside W.E., we dwell within a different realm from everybody else, absorbing the uniqueness of it. And so, through W.E., you and I may be truly “living” at the same time.

      “W.E. is very tangible on the page and thus, in me and, from your scent, you, too. Perseverance furthers in all things.”

      Yes, W.E. is verily tangible on the page and within me, and when I take in your scent or W.E.’s aroma, I know that I have found what I need. When looking ahead, I believe that with perseverance, that space will continue to fill with fragrance and tangibility. So, now, as I am laying fillip in my perseverance, I am dripping more palpable drops of scent within W.E.’s vial, and sending it to you.

      Would you describe W.E.’s scent, or what has just arrived from me in the vile, as airy, earthy or fiery, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    7. "Would you describe W.E.’s scent, or what has just arrived from me in the vile, as airy, earthy or fiery, Mr. Hyde? "

      It's the scent of all living things, Parnasse.

      You are very alive to me. ;)

      Air represents intellect/discrimination, dexterity in language, making verbal/concrete and abstract connections between the dots. Earth, sensual awareness and the stability of processing all 6-7 senses? You know what I mean: Sensual awareness is vital.

      Fire is spirit, the spiritual quest, invisible only when we are living to shiny stuff. When we are willing to self-immolate on some incomprehensible level, we transcend while grasping the hear of all of senses. Water, feelings, are I think in some ways, the dark/light ace of cards -- double-edged. You never know when utilizing emotions to assess a situation whether or not you are projecting. Until later. Sure. I can detect myself projecting most times in the present. But those times I miss the mark are in fact the turning point, which I only realize later. And so, I embrace KV's adage, So it goes. And move on. Doing the best I can.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    8. "transcend while grasping the heart of all senses.'

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    9. "I want our treehouse to live on and develop. I do not carry the intent to disappear through a hole in the floor, and I wish there were a way to let you feel that through W.E. I would like our treehouse and W.E. to flourish without the fear that you’ve described, knowing that we are mind to mind in this creative aspect."



      I know a way. :) And understand your position. Sometimes it feels like light breathing, and, at other time, it feels like heavy, more permeating breathing. It feels like magnolia, honeysuckle and the mystery scent of an inlet, amplified by the effusion of our organic brooks."

      Yes, Parnasse. The nose knows. ;))

      "I am dripping more palpable drops of scent within W.E.’s vial, and sending it to you."

      Likewise. W.E. is definitely more intelligent, more wise, than either of us. Nature knows best. She wants diversity. So do you and me. This aspect to our like-mindedness combined with our mutual quest to KNOW can only further fun in the treehouse, and perhaps beyond. No harm in trying, that's for sure. Make peace, not war. That's my motto. To create is divine. ;))

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    10. “You are very alive to me. ;)”

      So are you, Mr. Hyde. I breathe onto a mirror and I "glimpse" you in its laminated sheen. ;)

      I like your in-depth, perceptive ponderings of the elements. Here is something from me, sending it by way of W.E.’s vial.

      Air glides, turning up and carrying water,
      crossing over into intellect, bone and marrow
      while it calls the earth its home, the spirit and the core.
      So this mystery of life

      seeks the coastline, creating in its
      mellifluous voice. I hear it as I sit
      before the fire, stirring with a

      thought,
      and letting the logs
      lie closely. The earth, on the ground floor,
      is in its usual position, leaning on its

      right shoulder which harvests all day.
      It is a beautiful sound.
      This confers life, which is so close
      to my own that I would not know

      its boundary. And what does this have to do
      with synthesis, except

      everything? Now the water and air travel,
      bathing a gladiola’s bulb inside the earth. This circuit

      shows gratitude, feeding.

      Delete
    11. “Air represents intellect/discrimination, dexterity in language, making verbal/concrete and abstract connections between the dots. Earth, sensual awareness and the stability of processing all 6-7 senses? You know what I mean: Sensual awareness is vital.”

      You have described air quite perspicaciously, Mr. Hyde. As I think deeper into it, a question arises within the breath of air: Is air novel as a climbing zephyr, or is it howling like the wind? I believe that it is both, innovating in its artistry and drawn to psychological unearthings. Attracted by intellectual concepts, air seeks to know and then know some more.

      I especially like the words you have chosen to detail earth. Surrounded by its quantum, magnetic fields, earth’s sensual awareness and stability of processing all 6-7 senses (i.e., this point is an attractive conduit to innovation) is priceless in its vitality. The mark of sensual awareness is treasured, inducing and encasing that which it craves. I believe that it is earth’s yearning to have something in all of its totality that attracts air and water, which seek stability and pair so well within the authenticity of all four seasons. As it were, water and air want to know, experience and delve within earth’s magnetic fields. These elements can be inclined to give the earth that which it searches for: totality.

      “Fire is spirit, the spiritual quest, invisible only when we are living to shiny stuff. When we are willing to self-immolate on some incomprehensible level, we transcend while grasping the hear of all of senses.”

      Fire is the light of spirit, but living for or covertly seeking “shiny stuff” will always diminish the authenticity of the spiritual quest. A true “spirit” sees all, completely eschewing all of those shiny things. You are making a point which very few individuals can grasp, or truly speak of, when embarking and being on such a quest, the 6-7 senses responding only to that which is altogether genuine.

      “Water, feelings, are I think in some ways, the dark/light ace of cards -- double-edged. You never know when utilizing emotions to assess a situation whether or not you are projecting. Until later. Sure. I can detect myself projecting most times in the present. But those times I miss the mark are in fact the turning point, which I only realize later. And so, I embrace KV's adage, So it goes. And move on. Doing the best I can.”

      This is veritable, Mr. Hyde. Again, your perspective is rather fitting. Water courses. When dipping a hand into it, one feels a longing, an enigmatic, inexplicable pull and a caress. Dripping water gravitates toward soil’s roots.
      “Yes, Parnasse. The nose knows. ;))”

      It is that imprint on the skin, Mr. Hyde. ;)

      “This aspect to our like-mindedness combined with our mutual quest to KNOW can only further fun in the treehouse, and perhaps beyond. No harm in trying, that's for sure.”

      Yes, we are mind to mind on the above, having a uniquely engaging path before us. Our mutual quest delves profusely within W.E.’s vial, including the mark of perseverance.
      “Water, feelings, are I think in some ways, the dark/light ace of cards -- double-edged.”

      It’s been said that a river streams through it, and eventually, those things that are meant to be merge into one. On some of the rocks are timeless blood-drops. Written all over and underneath the rocks are secret thoughts and words. Do you sense them in today’s arrival of W.E.’s vile, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    12. It should read vial instead of vile.

      It happens. :)

      Delete
    13. A Note:

      So are you, Mr. Hyde. I breathe onto a mirror and I “see” you in its laminated sheen. ;)

      The words laminated sheen in my earlier post refer to the properties of the mirror itself. As for how I see you and W.E., I believe that we are on the same quest, the artificial façade of shiny things or untruths having no place on our path. Mind to mind.

      Delete
  23. Morning Parnasse,

    Young cubs here so I don't have much time to respond -- they are howling for breakfast.

    I received the scent of W.E.'s vial that you sent, and it reminds me of the ways of the world: all elements in Nature come together to feed the whole stream of life. When I consider my cat, whom I rescued from a feral life in a stinking alley, he bit and scratched and would have nothing to do with me. So I fed him, and by feeding him he has become attached to me. In turn, his hairy hugs and purring nourish me. We feed each other, in other words, in ways that benefit both.

    I bring this up because I have longed to live solely on air and water, to be able to survive on the scent of life rather than on its breathing meat. The stories of saints in India who supposedly live this way has always fascinated me. As well as the story of Daniel in the lion's den. In 'Journeys of Remarkable Men' by Gurjieff? (I cannot recall his name as I read that book at 18,19) he tells the tale of a hermit who had made friends with a bear . . . this is the kind of thing I have always dreamed of and strived to do. (Mind you, I'm no Grizzly Man, viewing myself as flower in the field, to which the bear is 'fondly' indifferent; I laughed myself silly hearing Grizzly Man's belief that because he loved the bear, the bear would never hurt him. What's tragic about his story isn't that he got mauled, but that his girlfriend died trying to protect him from the attack.)

    I want to trust you Parnasse, because I do believe that together we could write an truly original piece that would sell very easily and would provide a window into the profound entanglement of W.E. You see, I think that most 'normal' people have so little comprehension of their inner conflicts, their dark side, that they would find it fascinating. the idea is for the story to deeply, subconsciously, resonate. Throw in a bit of sex, and the men's magazine 'Esquire' might even bite. They've published weird tales before by writers I know. It's a terrific market but very hard to crack.

    Yesterday I was reading an antho called "Psycho-paths", which promised to delve into the psychological labyrinth. What a disappointment so far! You may find this bit from the introduction by Robert Bloch (author of Psycho) interesting, however:

    "But with few exceptions science fiction has not followed the example or Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 masterwork, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

    Seems to me that W.E. have a stellar opportunity here! And it would be so much fun to explore and write.

    But before I do and can share any actual writing, I have to trust and that is somewhat difficult, given the peculiar circumstances. After all, a so-called uber-empath (SteveW) turned out to be a snake and so did a couple from Oregon (not that I cared about that because I gave away the idea freely, not being interested in writing it myself) who actually wanted me to move on to their property and live 'rent-free.' That's when I realized how precious original ideas truly are.

    Anyway, I think you understand my position. When the time comes to do the actual writing, W.E. need to come up some kind of plan/way to share and disclose without relying on this website and so on. So that others can't read it and so that the writing doesn't disappear. ;)

    "I breathe onto a mirror and I 'see' you in its laminated sheen. ;)

    I want you to see me, Parnasse. I hope the image is to your liking and feeds you what you need.

    Mr. Hyde

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I believe that one can manage to keep nature in his or her core for as long as nature can be as it is when one dwells within it, or when experiencing it. That is the high point wherein all of the elements infused by nature come together to feed the streaming spirit of life. When connecting the story about your cat to this truth, I can see how trailing and staying on this course has led to attachment. His hairy hugs and purring have created a reciprocal exchange, which really makes things coalesce distinctly.

      “I bring this up because I have longed to live solely on air and water, to be able to survive on the scent of life rather than on its breathing meat. The stories of saints in India who supposedly live this way has always fascinated me. As well as the story of Daniel in the lion's den. In 'Journeys of Remarkable Men' by Gurjieff? (I cannot recall his name as I read that book at 18,19) he tells the tale of a hermit who had made friends with a bear . . . this is the kind of thing I have always dreamed of and strived to do. (Mind you, I'm no Grizzly Man, viewing myself as flower in the field, to which the bear is 'fondly' indifferent; I laughed myself silly hearing Grizzly Man's belief that because he loved the bear, the bear would never hurt him. What's tragic about his story isn't that he got mauled, but that his girlfriend died trying to protect him from the attack.)”

      “You must learn not what people round you consider good or bad, but to act in life as your conscience bids you.”

      These words come from G.I. Gurdjieff’s “Meetings with Remarkable Men.” You have made a thought-provoking reference and a type of natural discourse between us. While thinking of the author’s words, I believe they incorporate the whole “inner aura” of the novel, with air and water, as he senses and deeply absorbs them, being the elements that give it life.

      I will reply to the rest of your post. In the interim, I stumbled upon this thought by Gurdjieff. I like the sound and scent of it. ;)

      “As long as our ideas are the same, we will never be apart.”

      Delete
    2. Living solely on air and water and surviving on the scent of life rather than its breathing meat is, I believe, the epicenter of a rare goal. The saints you’ve mentioned, echoing the story of Daniel in the lion’s den, embody this type of survival, which only a select few can possibly attain. Taking all of these linkages into consideration, the tale of the hermit and the bear transit into a synergetic relationship that favors its desired outcome. I see these ideas, and your natural view on them, in the substance of P.D. Ouspensky’s “In Search of the Miraculous: Fragments of an Unknown Teaching.” Are you familiar with this work?

      “I want to trust you Parnasse, because I do believe that together we could write an truly original piece that would sell very easily and would provide a window into the profound entanglement of W.E. You see, I think that most 'normal' people have so little comprehension of their inner conflicts, their dark side, that they would find it fascinating. the idea is for the story to deeply, subconsciously, resonate. Throw in a bit of sex, and the men's magazine 'Esquire' might even bite. They've published weird tales before by writers I know. It's a terrific market but very hard to crack.”

      You can surely trust me, and I feel as though I can trust you. It would be a captivatingly original piece, embodying the profusely intricate life of W.E. I have always wanted to write something that deeply reverberates on a subconscious level, and based on everything that you’ve expressed so far, you are the person who fits quite suitably into this desired collaboration. What’s more, “Esquire” sounds like a great choice for W.E.’s publication, knowing that it is a fabulous market.

      “Yesterday I was reading an antho called "Psycho-paths", which promised to delve into the psychological labyrinth. What a disappointment so far! You may find this bit from the introduction by Robert Bloch (author of Psycho) interesting, however:

      "But with few exceptions science fiction has not followed the example or Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 masterwork, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

      I strongly believe that W.E. could reach that natural, enticing pinnacle into the psychological labyrinth, exploring all of the interlacing channels that come to mind. Robert Bloch made a great, synergistic association, cleverly highlighting the inner breadth of “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

      Since I was just listening to it, here is a piece that draws me in and connects such synergistic, rousing elements. Also, in keeping with Robert Bloch allusion in his introduction, it emits a certain quality of the macabre. ;)

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQOg0FfOWRA

      “Seems to me that W.E. have a stellar opportunity here! And it would be so much fun to explore and write.”

      Delete
    3. Continuing....

      W.E. have a marvelous chance, and delving into it will be pleasurable.

      “But before I do and can share any actual writing, I have to trust and that is somewhat difficult, given the peculiar circumstances. After all, a so-called uber-empath (SteveW) turned out to be a snake and so did a couple from Oregon (not that I cared about that because I gave away the idea freely, not being interested in writing it myself) who actually wanted me to move on to their property and live 'rent-free.' That's when I realized how precious original ideas truly are.”

      Anyway, I think you understand my position. When the time comes to do the actual writing, W.E. need to come up some kind of plan/way to share and disclose without relying on this website and so on. So that others can't read it and so that the writing doesn't disappear. ;)”

      True, the circumstances are peculiar, but they are also original and highly particular to W.E. I believe that you can understand my point, having discovered and realized certain things about ourselves along the way. These ideas are precious, and we feel the same way about this vital point. Also, coming up with a plan or way to disclose and share without relying on this website and so forth would be a good solution for W.E. I agree that it is important, and your thoughts are really showing me that you believe in something that has so much potential, and that I truly believe in as well. I feel content.

      “I want you to see me, Parnasse. I hope the image is to your liking and feeds you what you need.”

      I see you, and I genuinely like your image. Additionally, it feeds into what I need. It fits and fills the vial, Mr. Hyde.

      I’ve stumbled on yet another thought by Gurdjieff, and since you are familiar with him and we have been looking into some concepts, I am wondering if you know what he meant to convey in here? It could also be a result of the translation from Russian, which can change the sense or substance of some words.

      “Love without knowledge is demonic.”

      Delete
    4. “Sincerity is the key to self-knowledge.”

      Gurdjieff had the ability to denote quite a lot through several compelling maxims that his thoughts reverberated for a while in the minds of his listeners. As it were, some of his thoughts were noteworthy mainly due to their conversational quality, such as the maxim that I asked you about in my previous post. It has been observed that much of the compelling character in Gurdjieff’s maxims was transmitted by the person who said them, and this appears to be absent from the written word or chronological record of his thoughts. However, in spite of the change in his words as a result of translation, I believe that he was attempting to make a significant point through the maxim in question.

      Having thought about it and having read more of his work, I think that I understand what he meant in saying that “love without knowledge is demonic.” Since Gurdjieff viewed sincerity as the source of self-knowledge, which is a keynote in most of his maxims, it follows that love without sincerity, which is synonymous to knowledge, is demonic.

      Linking everything together, I see the above as a direct connection to the trust and sincerity that we need to have in order to create and attain what we both desire when it comes to W.E. It is this aspect of it, along with the understanding of inner conflicts and its subconscious journey that will make W.E. reverberate and attain its desired goal.

      Is this how you would interpret its meaning?

      When the time will come to write W.E., it will mark that significant moment in time, coming together in “this precious chance” as “the momentum and the moment are in rhyme.” And speaking of songs, I believe the concerto by Mendelssohn that I posted for you yesterday synchronizes and rhymes with the same beat.

      “Every endeavor,
      I have made - ever -
      Is coming into play,
      Is here and now - today!

      This is the moment,
      This is the time,
      When the momentum and the moment
      Are in rhyme!

      Give me this moment -
      This precious chance -
      I'll gather up my past
      And make some sense at last!”

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XB8lLnnR95s

      Also, can you, perchance, detect W.E.'s or my natural scent in today’s vial, Mr. Hyde? ;)

      Delete
  24. "Living solely on air and water and surviving on the scent of life rather than its breathing meat is, I believe, the epicenter of a rare goal. The saints you’ve mentioned, echoing the story of Daniel in the lion’s den, embody this type of survival, which only a select few can possibly attain. Taking all of these linkages into consideration, the tale of the hermit and the bear transit into a synergetic relationship that favors its desired outcome. I see these ideas, and your natural view on them, in the substance of P.D. Ouspensky’s “In Search of the Miraculous: Fragments of an Unknown Teaching.” Are you familiar with this work?"

    I read the book and Tertium Organum, The Fourth Way, all in rush when I was 18/19, so they are a bit fuzzy now. At the time, I was transported, inspired to explore his ideas by traveling like a tramp around North America, which eventually lead to years of living in the bush -- which was/is for me the greatest of all teachers. I went to live like a hermit because I thought that the only way to understand the spirit of life was to live beyond man-made mental/physical structures, to experience Spirit stripped of human ego. It has always seemed to me that the 'ego-less' aspect of animals, plants, even rocks, shines with the raw spark of the Invisible. It's so much easier to for me to see the 'divine' at work in these creatures because their vitality is starkly naked when compared to that of human beings, who dress everything up in fancy, often convoluted ideas and beliefs which hide rather reveal their essence.

    As for obtaining the 'rare goal', it's unlikely that I shall do so, least in this lifetime. But in the end it really doesn't matter all that much: I am content with the miraculous journey and believe that the internal treasures that I have managed to gather so far have served me very well. My inner life is very rich and in constant resonance and that is the food I value most. "This is the moment, this is the time, When the momentum and the moment are in rhyme!"

    "You can surely trust me, and I feel as though I can trust you. It would be a captivatingly original piece, embodying the profusely intricate life of W.E. I have always wanted to write something that deeply reverberates on a subconscious level, and based on everything that you’ve expressed so far, you are the person who fits quite suitably into this desired collaboration. What’s more, “Esquire” sounds like a great choice for W.E.’s publication, knowing that it is a fabulous market."

    I do believe this to be so. With all my heart and soul. You have awakened certain aspects of feeling and thought in me that can only be spoken through W.E. Which is both curious and invigorating (because I never guessed I could feel this way, conversing with a socio -- not after what I've been through this past year with the low-functioning socios at work). You are anything but low-functioning, however, and there is an fiercely intelligent aura about you that flows both deep and high. Defying gravity through enchantment is one of your great gifts. :)

    "These ideas are precious, and we feel the same way about this vital point."

    Indeed we do.

    Mr. Hyde



    "


    ReplyDelete
  25. And . . .

    "Having thought about it and having read more of his work, I think that I understand what he meant in saying that “love without knowledge is demonic.” Since Gurdjieff viewed sincerity as the source of self-knowledge, which is a keynote in most of his maxims, it follows that love without sincerity, which is synonymous to knowledge, is demonic."

    Certainly this must be true. Also, when we fool ourselves about WHY we love someone, we are blind to our own motivations, which sooner or later trips us up. There are many demons hidden within the wings of 'love,' and these must be faced honestly if one is to avoid becoming 'possessed' or 'missing the mark' of the heart of the beloved. The one we love cannot be touched in their heart if our 'aim' is obscured by the fog of dishonesty. We can scratch the surface with romantic displays, nick a vein or two, but not penetrate to the core, so to speak. This is why I always strive to say exactly what I think or not say anything at all. And so, and I think you know, that my love of your mind's poetic wanderings and philosophical flights is sincere. And you may be amused to hear that its scent is all the most delectable because you are a socio, a creature unlike myself, who tends to bleed over the death of microorganisms in the soil. (I will not apologize for weeping over things others find insignificant, but I do find funny and can laugh at my mystical absurdity.)

    Finding common ground with you has given me renewed hope for the future of humanity. Really. ;) And I think W.E.'s story, albeit dark to the core, can at its most magnificent, ignite this feeling in others, too. Because one cannot apprehend the light without first knowing the dark from whence it came and embracing its vitality.

    Mr. Hyde

    PS btw, my cat jumped from the balcony yesterday and fell three stories. He was MIA for several hours, banged up and cowering beneath a neighbor's tarp when we found him. He's OK other than a cut lip.

    PSS I have much to do today and then must gather with my wolf pack round the lighted tree. So, I may not be able to respond much over these next days. In my mind, however, I will also be stringing lights around W.E'.s treehouse. Hope you have a great holiday, Parnasse. May the Great It shower you with bountiful blessings.


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. First Part:

      “I read the book and Tertium Organum, The Fourth Way, all in rush when I was 18/19, so they are a bit fuzzy now. At the time, I was transported, inspired to explore his ideas by traveling like a tramp around North America, which eventually lead to years of living in the bush -- which was/is for me the greatest of all teachers.”

      I see, and since you’ve mentioned it, “Tertium Organum, The Fourth Way,” which is discussed in the last chapter of Ouspensky’s “In Search of the Miraculous: Fragments of an Unknown Teaching” addresses the possibility of experiencing higher levels of being. It differs from the other three ways, and this is where, I believe, you and I share an inherent interest in this concept. Tantamount to Nature, “it has no specific forms or institutions, coming and going according to particular laws of its own.” There is a link between this concept and that of apperception. In psychology, which has always been an area of study and high interest for me, apperception is "the process by which new experience is assimilated to and transformed by the residuum of past experience of an individual to form a new whole." Summarizing the above, this means to perceive new experience as connected to past experience. Originally, apperception is defined as “passing the threshold into consciousness,” and perceiving that which is embedded in the subconscious. It brings the two together for a seeker, creating a desired whole. And, true, being transported and exploring these ideas can only lead to further understanding and to being within the core of the intertwinement. ;)

      Philosophically speaking, the concept was initiated by René Descartes as the term “apercevoir” in a book named “Traité des Passions.” Leibniz followed with “principes de la Nature fondés en raison et de la grâce.” Afterward, Immanuel Kant differentiated between transcendental apperception and empirical apperception in that transcendental apperception is closely analogous to self-consciousness.

      “I am content with the miraculous journey and believe that the internal treasures that I have managed to gather so far have served me very well. My inner life is very rich and in constant resonance and that is the food I value most. "This is the moment, this is the time, When the momentum and the moment are in rhyme!"

      I visualize what you’ve described as a star falling from the sky and into your hands or inner self. Soon afterward, it permeates through your veins and dives inside your blood. It becomes something that you know on a level that truly clicks with yours, knowing that it will not return to the sky again. “When the momentum and the moment are in rhyme! I'll gather up my past. And make some sense at last!”

      "You can surely trust me, and I feel as though I can trust you. It would be a captivatingly original piece, embodying the profusely intricate life of W.E. I have always wanted to write something that deeply reverberates on a subconscious level, and based on everything that you’ve expressed so far, you are the person who fits quite suitably into this desired collaboration. What’s more, “Esquire” sounds like a great choice for W.E.’s publication, knowing that it is a fabulous market."

      “I do believe this to be so. With all my heart and soul. You have awakened certain aspects of feeling and thought in me that can only be spoken through W.E. Which is both curious and invigorating (because I never guessed I could feel this way, conversing with a socio -- not after what I've been through this past year with the low-functioning socios at work)."

      Delete
    2. I am glad that you believe this to be true with all of your heart and soul. Your words carry an arching profundity, coupled with the select mark of the seeker. I find this desirable. Hearing that I have awakened certain aspects of feeling and thought in you, which can only be spoken through W.E., is an invaluable treasure that I covet. This truth lives in me as well, and finding it in this lifetime is priceless. Sometimes, we spend years or a whole lifetime looking for the original link and entanglements within W.E., and I see it as a rare find. Some never find what they need, which is unfortunate, but, like you, I see this as a unique discovery that has been spoken and experienced through W.E.

      “You are anything but low-functioning, however, and there is an fiercely intelligent aura about you that flows both deep and high. Defying gravity through enchantment is one of your great gifts. :)”

      Thank you for these compliments. In turn, your intelligence and witty style are a formidable combination. The pendulum of your inquisitive mind moves between these two qualities, drawing me into knowing more. Your mind has the ability to stretch so much by a new concept or sensation, and the distinctive component, or intrinsic element, about it is that it never seeks to shrink back to its prior state, which is the mark of true confidence and forward-looking, exploratory drive. I like stretching my mind as much as you do, and it is something that I look forward to doing with you through the inner fibers of W.E. What’s more, our imaginations seem to be made for this exclusive odyssey.

      I had a dream last night about this, involving W.E. and the treehouse, and I plan to tell you about it in another post. I suppose that my subconscious has been permeated through the seeping and rousingly percolating conduit of the treehouse. Also, defying gravity with you via W.E. has made me feel at my most natural level. ;)

      To be continued in the upcoming Second Part...

      Delete
    3. Second Part…

      Its Prologue: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yi8uEnyz4fo

      “Certainly this must be true. Also, when we fool ourselves about WHY we love someone, we are blind to our own motivations, which sooner or later trips us up. There are many demons hidden within the wings of 'love,' and these must be faced honestly if one is to avoid becoming 'possessed' or 'missing the mark' of the heart of the beloved. The one we love cannot be touched in their heart if our 'aim' is obscured by the fog of dishonesty. We can scratch the surface with romantic displays, nick a vein or two, but not penetrate to the core, so to speak. This is why I always strive to say exactly what I think or not say anything at all.”

      I believe that your thoughts above can be linked to my own thoughts in the previous post about truly finding what one needs throughout the course of a lifetime. It is that distinctive point in time, which feels like no other. Facing the hidden demons honestly and sincerely touching the heart of the one we love is a voyage that must reach and transfuse the core. Merely scratching the surface of the above through certain displays is not something that appeals to me, and I am glad to see that we think alike. I believe that saying what you think, being with the one that you need, and being what you want to be, or who you truly are, without having to adjust to expectations and change yourself in ways that make life difficult and hard or unnatural for you to exist in that conventional/conforming state, is the highest attainment for a person who is not considered “normal” and who is seen as “eccentric and then some” (i.e. myself included, of course). Being loved for who you are, both light and dark parts, is the ultimate find. Being seen and trusting the other with a truth that is of vital significance to you (i.e., defining who you truly are) is the most precious treasure.

      “And so, and I think you know, that my love of your mind's poetic wanderings and philosophical flights is sincere. And you may be amused to hear that its scent is all the most delectable because you are a socio, a creature unlike myself, who tends to bleed over the death of microorganisms in the soil. (I will not apologize for weeping over things others find insignificant, but I do find funny and can laugh at my mystical absurdity.)”

      Delete
    4. Adding to the Second Part...

      Thank you, and I believe that you are sincere. I find W.E.’s scent to be palatable and mesmeric. I can sense yours as well. It happens line after line. ;)

      “Finding common ground with you has given me renewed hope for the future of humanity. Really. ;) And I think W.E.'s story, albeit dark to the core, can at its most magnificent, ignite this feeling in others, too. Because one cannot apprehend the light without first knowing the dark from whence it came and embracing its vitality.”

      Yes, I have been looking for common ground with someone who understands for some time. W.E.’s story will be dark to the core, and that is its course as W.E. know it. Being true to W.E. is the most significant thing that I desire. First knowing the dark, finding its roots and embracing its unique verve makes this authentic and, simultaneously, resplendent for us through W.E. Dark will always coexist with light, and one cannot BE without the other. Knowing and loving both of these in the other is the ultimate attainment. “Take me as I am.”

      “PS btw, my cat jumped from the balcony yesterday and fell three stories. He was MIA for several hours, banged up and cowering beneath a neighbor's tarp when we found him. He's OK other than a cut lip.”

      I see. At least, your cat is not afraid of heights. I, for one, love heights with a deviant passion, and I was just thinking about that when visualizing the balcony. :)

      Taking everything into account, including the cut lip, I am glad that he is alright.

      “PSS I have much to do today and then must gather with my wolf pack round the lighted tree. So, I may not be able to respond much over these next days. In my mind, however, I will also be stringing lights around W.E'.s treehouse. Hope you have a great holiday, Parnasse. May the Great It shower you with bountiful blessings.”

      I especially like the visual of you stringing lights around W.E. treehouse. Come to think of it, I will be doing it, too, which means that we will be mind to mind during this time and “joining you there by W.E.’s tree.” ;)

      Thank you, Mr. Hyde. May the Continuum’s It bestow you with your most coveted WISH.

      I gave you the Prologue, and now, here is the complete soundtrack. I like listening to it during the mesmeric course of the night for its high, exquisite effect:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yi8uEnyz4fo&list=PLjXQ_rLk0ogaVqkK_mrtp1VYs51qk0oUN

      Alive. What do you think of its bursting effect, Mr. Hyde? ;)

      Delete
    5. Third Part...

      Epilogue:

      I believe that saying what you think, being with the one that you need, and being what you want to be, or who you truly are, without having to adjust to expectations and change yourself in ways that make life difficult and hard or unnatural for you to exist in that conventional/conforming state, is the highest attainment for a person who is not considered “normal” and who is seen as “eccentric and then some” (i.e. myself included, of course). Being loved for who you are, both light and dark parts, is the ultimate find. Being seen and trusting the other with a truth that is of vital significance to you (i.e., defining who you truly are) is the most precious treasure.

      A person who is not considered "normal" would be a socio. That is what I meant to convey above, Mr. Hyde. True, it is much more than being "eccentric and then some." :)

      Delete
  26. What do you think of its bursting effect, Mr. Hyde? ;)

    I listened to the whole musical, before the sound died in my computer, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Until I can afford to take the computer in for service, I'm afraid I'll no longer be able to hear the songs you post for me. Alas, that could take a while as I'm broke, not working and unlikely to obtain a 'real' job anytime soon.

    In any case, I found the J&S musical captivating and am going to read the novel again. I'm afraid I'm as much a brooder as a writer and of late I've been brooding a lot on W.E.'s tale. Have you thought about Hyde's opening post to challenge/seduce J on her blog? I get quite excited thinking about what you will write and how J will respond. I believe it would be fun if J is also sexually frustrated/repressed. This would provide all kinds of slippery fictional opportunities for J to lose herself. What do you think?

    "I believe that saying what you think, being with the one that you need, and being what you want to be, or who you truly are, without having to adjust to expectations and change yourself in ways that make life difficult and hard or unnatural for you to exist in that conventional/conforming state, is the highest attainment for a person who is not considered “normal” and who is seen as “eccentric and then some” (i.e. myself included, of course). Being loved for who you are, both light and dark parts, is the ultimate find. Being seen and trusting the other with a truth that is of vital significance to you (i.e., defining who you truly are) is the most precious treasure.

    Most precious and rare. There are more truths I will share with you over time. And I hope you will, too. I am still thinking about the death of your father, imagining all kinds of things. It's warmly odd that we are both are linked together through this wounded masculine image. My father was seen by many people as unlovable: I loved him and hated him at the same time. It's only now, 30 years after his death, that I love him more holistically. There was a comic quality to his cruelty that now makes me laugh; like watching a two-year-old throw a tantrum.

    "Yes, I have been looking for common ground with someone who understands for some time. W.E.’s story will be dark to the core, and that is its course as W.E. know it. Being true to W.E. is the most significant thing that I desire."

    It's vitally important to me,too. I do hope you will enjoy J's dark tenderness and cruelty! I plan on letting my inner gorilla out in all of his King Kong glory.


    First knowing the dark, finding its roots and embracing its unique verve makes this authentic and, simultaneously, resplendent for us through W.E. Dark will always coexist with light, and one cannot BE without the other. Knowing and loving both of these in the other is the ultimate attainment. “Take me as I am.”

    To BE or not to BE. Lol. I, too, believe that one cannot exist without the other. Duality is the very heart of human existence. Jekyll's quest to separate good from evil, to cast evil into hell, is a sin against himself and nature, the thing that damns him. Many people today seem hell-bent on doing the same: Why else do people subject themselves to plastic surgery if not to eliminate what society deems ugly? The idea of 'perfect immortal beauty' is monstrous to me. ;)

    "May the Continuum’s It bestow you with your most coveted WISH."

    Thank you, Parnasse. My wish right now is to develop W.E.'s treehouse and grow our story, which I have very high hopes for. And to win a grand or two in a lotto to pay the bills and fix this frigging computer.

    Mr. Hyde

    ReplyDelete
  27. "What’s more, our imaginations seem to be made for this exclusive odyssey."

    Yes! Our mutual apperception of the dark and light within ourselves and each other is key to forging our new 'interpath', exploration of W.E., and will, I believe, fit together many pieces of my past.

    "I had a dream last night about this, involving W.E. and the treehouse, and I plan to tell you about it in another post. I suppose that my subconscious has been permeated through the seeping and rousingly percolating conduit of the treehouse. Also, defying gravity with you via W.E. has made me feel at my most natural level. ;)

    Looking forward to hearing your dream. :D

    Here's one of mine, from the period when my dad was dying and he refused to talk about certain aspects of my mom's suicide, which I desperately need to clear up in my mind.

    I am in the basement of the family home (where I last saw my mother alive). Lines of dirty laundry (!) are strung up to dry. As I push my way through dripping sheets I see my dad hiding, knife in hand. He charges towards me, says, "You are just like her. You will end up mad and in suicide." I try to run but get tangled up in the diry laundry. He lunges towards me; I roll away and wind up under the stairs. The light is dim but I can clearly see my mother's decapitated head, lying face up with a sorrowful expression. As I read out to touch her cheeks, her head turns into a book. I'm amazed and feel rather giddy. I'm no longer horrified but somehow elated and no longer scared that my dad is 'coming to get me.' I wake up. My pillow is soaked in sweat and tears.

    My mother, who was bi-polar, loved books and wanted to be a writer. ;) My father thought that was an insane goal and constantly mocked her love of literature, eastern philosophy and psychology. When I started writing, Dad was horrified and on his deathbed (months after this dream)he damned me just as he had in the dream, to insanity and suicide. He said he wished I'd never been born, that he was ashamed of me.

    Remembering this now, it all seems rather funny. That I gave him so much power over me actually greased the dark wheels of my imagination; therefore I would not change what happened. And because I would not change it, IT has changed me in ways that as a writer I'm very grateful for. Ironically, my pain in this paternal matter has also been my literary gain. A pain that shall serve W.E. in all its bloody music.

    Mr. Hyde

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. On one hand, hearing that you’ve listened to the whole musical elates me. On other hand, hearing of the pickle that you are currently in, concerning the breakdown of your computer, does the direct opposite to me. :)

      These songs carry a specific truth for me, one that you and I know intrinsically and can communicate so adroitly through W.E. I believe that W.E. is a truthful or catalytic manifestation for us, which can potentially make its duality or apperceptive faction of the mind (i.e., if you recall my previous posts on this, “passing the threshold into consciousness” involves the coming together of this polarity of the conscious and subconscious minds), as opposed to duplicity (i.e., this particular differentiation is of upmost, high importance in my mind), the work of a lifetime. Delving deeper into this essential meaning, I posted the songs for you and only you, knowing that you are the only one who can grasp my truth, intent and remarkable connection to their inner workings or filaments. ;)

      The musical is charming, and W.E.’s tale has been on my mind as well. You might be surprised to hear that I have already begun writing the opening post to challenge/seduce J in this work, and I am eager to see how J will respond to it. What’s more, J’s sexual frustration/repression would create all sorts of fictional opportunities for J to lose herself. Your idea should surely be incorporated into the story, exploring it side by side as W.E. is brought to life in its unique construct. The sexual tableau of experience would intertwine within the mesmeric level of the tale.

      “Most precious and rare. There are more truths I will share with you over time. And I hope you will, too. I am still thinking about the death of your father, imagining all kinds of things. It's warmly odd that we are both are linked together through this wounded masculine image. My father was seen by many people as unlovable: I loved him and hated him at the same time. It's only now, 30 years after his death, that I love him more holistically. There was a comic quality to his cruelty that now makes me laugh; like watching a two-year-old throw a tantrum.”

      I like imparting my truths or facts to you. You have asked about my father, and when it comes to him and his death, these are particular facts that I would like to share with you during W.E.’s creation (i.e., not through the medium of this website, that is). I hope that you really understand me, since I would like you to be the only person to know facts that I have never imparted to anyone else before. In the interim, I can reveal that he was perceived by many as unlovable and unusually difficult in some areas of life, but, through the passage of time, I saw him in a way that has made me love him to this day. Your thoughts or experience of your father is rather similar to my own, which establishes more common ground between us.

      “It's vitally important to me,too. I do hope you will enjoy J's dark tenderness and cruelty! I plan on letting my inner gorilla out in all of his King Kong glory.”

      I would not want it any other way. J’s dark tenderness, cruelty, inner gorilla and King Kong glory must be there, manifesting as they were meant to be without holding anything back. All of it should be and feel natural.

      Delete
    2. “Duality is the very heart of human existence. Jekyll's quest to separate good from evil, to cast evil into hell, is a sin against himself and nature, the thing that damns him.”

      This is my reason for resolutely believing that we should never fight our nature, no matter how different or deviating from the norm it might be. It is much too difficult to bear, seeing the separation as a clear mortality of a part of one’s own self. Our light and dark duality is the true manifestation of our core, and that means living the ultimate truth. I love that, as much as life itself.

      “Thank you, Parnasse. My wish right now is to develop W.E.'s treehouse and grow our story, which I have very high hopes for. And to win a grand or two in a lotto to pay the bills and fix this frigging computer.”

      Designing W.E.’s treehouse and creating the life of this story is my highest wish as this time. Your hopes sound true, and I like their sharpened scent and sound. As for your computer pickle, “passing the threshold into consciousness,” and unwrapping my infusing thoughts in this moment via W.E.’s vial, might work. ;)

      To be continued…

      Delete
    3. “Yes! Our mutual apperception of the dark and light within ourselves and each other is key to forging our new 'interpath', exploration of W.E., and will, I believe, fit together many pieces of my past.”

      I believe through W.E., we can explore and realize that both your past and mine are not where we think that we have left them. Fitting all of the pieces into one whole montage is my goal. Through W.E., these united pieces will beat through us like a pulsating heart, or a ticking clock that orates a true and unique story. Before W.E. can truly live, all of these entangling elements have to gather together. If you sense the past speaking to you, feel it encasing your back and running its fingers up your spine and nape, I believe in letting it fill up your chest with rapture, truths and original ecstasy.

      “My mother, who was bi-polar, loved books and wanted to be a writer. ;) My father thought that was an insane goal and constantly mocked her love of literature, eastern philosophy and psychology."

      True, based on everything that you have told me about your mother so far, it sounds as though she was bi-polar. Honestly, I am not surprised that she was constantly mocked by your father. People say all sorts of things in relation to it, some good and some bad. As a result of my own mode of expression, I’ve used the word “socio” before as an umbrella term, so to speak, for people who are exceptionally or extraordinarily different, but not sociopaths or psychopaths. I suppose that some people would outwardly disagree with my umbrella term, but to me it sounds like saying the following: “Right, you’re bi-polar, meaning a ‘socio’ type of person who is outstandingly different from the rest. And, no, I am not saying that you are a sociopath or a psychopath. Within this context, ‘socio’ means giftedly and consummately different.” Do you understand my point? Overall, I believe that your mother would have grasped my meaning. ;)

      “When I started writing, Dad was horrified and on his deathbed (months after this dream)he damned me just as he had in the dream, to insanity and suicide. He said he wished I'd never been born, that he was ashamed of me.

      Remembering this now, it all seems rather funny. That I gave him so much power over me actually greased the dark wheels of my imagination; therefore I would not change what happened. And because I would not change it, IT has changed me in ways that as a writer I'm very grateful for. Ironically, my pain in this paternal matter has also been my literary gain. A pain that shall serve W.E. in all its bloody music.”

      I am sure that some scrapes, predicaments or experiences will always serve as recollections that one has truly gained so much from through the years. That, in itself, is a great accomplishment in your case. And they bring to mind something of great importance. They stand as reminders of difficult times, the aftermath of which have left one stronger and more resilient. In all truth, these life occurrences can make one better equipped to succeed in the present. W.E.’s bloody music will incorporate a reflection of this gain, and that is an enthralling thought.

      An enticing, but sometimes chilly, way of remembering the past is to open a very tight drawer. As it were, you happen to be looking for something in particular, which you can’t place. At some point, something falls out at the back of the drawer, and that is often far more interesting. This is how I feel and view W.E.’s bloody music, and your scent orchestrates so well within it. ;)

      More to come about your dream

      …and my dream, too.

      Delete
    4. “Here's one of mine, from the period when my dad was dying and he refused to talk about certain aspects of my mom's suicide, which I desperately need to clear up in my mind.

      “I am in the basement of the family home (where I last saw my mother alive). Lines of dirty laundry (!) are strung up to dry. As I push my way through dripping sheets I see my dad hiding, knife in hand. He charges towards me, says, "You are just like her. You will end up mad and in suicide." I try to run but get tangled up in the diry laundry. He lunges towards me; I roll away and wind up under the stairs. The light is dim but I can clearly see my mother's decapitated head, lying face up with a sorrowful expression. As I read out to touch her cheeks, her head turns into a book. I'm amazed and feel rather giddy. I'm no longer horrified but somehow elated and no longer scared that my dad is 'coming to get me.' I wake up. My pillow is soaked in sweat and tears.”

      I was able to visualize the images in your dream, the horror, agony and intensity of each moment building and then being absorbed into the protective book that used to be your mother’s head. Her cheeks and your elation seem to emanate the same fervor. It is as though one has actually touched and moved the other.

      "You are just like her. You will end up mad and in suicide."

      These words have greatly impacted me, alluding to everything that follows in your revealing dream. They mark a high, turning point.

      I wonder, did you see the rest of your mother’s body?

      "Looking forward to hearing your dream. :D"

      In my dream, I feel myself making my way up a spiraling staircase with jagged, metal spindles, and reaching the top of the house: I am in the attic and barefooted. The wooden floor is chilly and wet. There are familiar pictures hanging all over the walls. At first glance, as though I am watching myself on a moving screen, I am pacing around the musty attic, seeking something that I need or a rendezvous with something that I integrally know will be there. It is dark and baleful, but the full, thumping moon is seeping through the corner of a tight, round window. Moving closer, I am standing in the same place where it had transpired before, and as I feel as though my feet are no longer touching the floor, I see an arm and fingers forming in the air and wrapping itself all around me. Soon enough, it passes through me, and although I can no longer see anything, I know that it has a whole body which continues to coil all around my own body, and then permeate it thoroughly. At it occurs, the movements are very sharp, piercing, swift and igniting. They intensify into exceedingly sharp slits, combining with an inner heat that pulsates heavily in my head, my chest, lower abdomen, and then all the way down to my bare feet. My blood is rushing forth, and I actually see it splashing, wave-like with lots of force onto the moving, white screen. However, as I look at my body, I notice that I have morphed into something else… something with black, pointy and slithering feathers. As soon as I try to define or place it, I wake up… still thinking of the sable, sinister rendezvous.

      The coiling, knife-sharp wraith had a nefarious hunger.

      Delete
    5. I am sending you more details about the dream (i.e., as remembered, that is). I have inserted them where they belong.

      The wooden floor is chilly and wet. At first glance, as though I am watching myself on a moving screen, I am pacing around the musty attic, seeking something that I need or a rendezvous with something that I integrally know will be there.

      …Looking all around me, I see a lot of birds around the attic, some of them perched on the windowsills, some flying all around the ceiling, and some of them tapping the familiar pictures and creaking floor with their long beaks.

      At it occurs, the movements are very sharp, piercing, swift and igniting. They intensify into exceedingly sharp slits, combining with an inner heat that pulsates heavily in my head, my chest, lower abdomen, and then all the way down to my bare feet. My blood is rushing forth, and I actually see it splashing, wave-like with lots of force onto the moving, white screen.

      …All of the birds encircling and crossing the girth of the attic are now rapidly and agitatedly flapping their wings in these powerfully intense moments. Their sounds are creating a strange, instant echo.

      However, as I look at my body, I notice that I have morphed into something else… something with black, pointy and slithering feathers. As soon as I try to define or place it, I wake up… still thinking of the sable, sinister rendezvous.

      The coiling, knife-sharp wraith had a nefarious hunger.

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yj4h8h1ik1M

      Delete
    6. So that it does not read in divided parts, here is the dream in its entirety (i.e., with several, minor edits). I like presenting things that form a whole. ;)

      In my dream, I feel myself making my way up a spiraling staircase with jagged, metal spindles, and reaching the top of the house: I am in the attic and barefooted. The wooden floor is chilly and wet. There are familiar pictures hanging all over the walls. At first glance, as though I am watching myself on a moving screen, I am pacing around the musty attic, seeking something that I need or a rendezvous with something that I integrally know will be there. Looking all around me, I see a large number of birds throughout the attic, some of them perched on the windowsills, some flying below the ceiling, and some of them tapping the familiar pictures and creaking floor with their long, strong beaks.

      It is dark and baleful, but the full, thumping moon is seeping through the corner of a tight, round window. Moving closer, I am standing in the same place where it had transpired before, and as I feel as though my feet are no longer touching the floor, I see an arm and fingers forming in the air and wrapping itself all around me. Soon enough, it passes through me, and although I can no longer see anything, I know that it has a whole body which continues to coil all around my own body, and then permeate it thoroughly. At it occurs, the movements are very sharp, piercing, swift and igniting. They intensify into exceedingly sharp slits, combining with an inner heat that pulsates heavily in my head, my chest, lower abdomen, and then all the way down to my bare feet. My blood is rushing forth, and I actually see it splashing, wave-like with lots of force onto the moving, white screen. All of the birds encircling and crossing the girth of the attic are rapidly and agitatedly flapping their wings in these powerfully intense moments. Their sounds are creating a strange, instant echo. However, as I look at my body, I notice that I have morphed into something else… something with black, pointy and slithering feathers. As soon as I try to define or place it, I wake up… still thinking of the sable, sinister rendezvous.

      The coiling, knife-sharp wraith had a nefarious hunger.

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yj4h8h1ik1M

      Delete
  28. "These songs carry a specific truth for me, one that you and I know intrinsically and can communicate so adroitly through W.E. I believe that W.E. is a truthful or catalytic manifestation for us, which can potentially make its duality or apperceptive faction of the mind (i.e., if you recall my previous posts on this, “passing the threshold into consciousness” involves the coming together of this polarity of the conscious and subconscious minds), as opposed to duplicity (i.e., this particular differentiation is of upmost, high importance in my mind), the work of a lifetime."

    Apperception of hidden variables, the unraveling of one's inner paradox, is certainly the work we are sharing in our lifetimes. It's the uncommon ground from which W.E.'s treehouse stems. We are both a tad obsessed with poking into the essence of the rich black soil. I like getting my hands dirty with you. Making mud pies and such. ;) The J&H musical facilitates this process. I really enjoyed it, which is unusual, as I generally don't like musicals. Have you ever seen Dancer in the Dark? I love that movie.

    "I like imparting my truths or facts to you. You have asked about my father, and when it comes to him and his death, these are particular facts that I would like to share with you during W.E.’s creation (i.e., not through the medium of this website, that is). I hope that you really understand me, since I would like you to be the only person to know facts that I have never imparted to anyone else before. In the interim, I can reveal that he was perceived by many as unlovable and unusually difficult in some areas of life, but, through the passage of time, I saw him in a way that has made me love him to this day. Your thoughts or experience of your father is rather similar to my own, which establishes more common ground between us."

    I understand. W.E. need some other way to communicate. Email? Mr. Hyde has an account.

    "As for your computer pickle, “passing the threshold into consciousness,” and unwrapping my infusing thoughts in this moment via W.E.’s vial, might work. ;)" The computer speakers are still inoperative. But strangely, the plug-in speakers, which at first appeared broken, suddenly switched back on last night after reading/sniffing your post. ;) We'll see how long that lasts.

    More later.

    Mr. Hyde

    ReplyDelete
  29. "I believe . . . that both your past and mine are not where we think that we have left them. Fitting all of the pieces into one whole montage is my goal."

    W.E's story is like a container, an alembic in which the elements, dark and light, are thus transformed. I believe that through the act of writing, we can discover the shining thread that leads the way through the labyrinth. The push and pull of our minds striving to create a whole piece will be for me a new experience. Together, our imaginations will explore regions angels fear to tread. I feel confident that this process will produce something very strange and beautiful.

    "True, based on everything that you have told me about your mother so far, it sounds as though she was bi-polar. I’ve used the word “socio” . . . meaning a ‘socio’ type of person who is outstandingly different from the rest. And, no, I am not saying that you are a sociopath or a psychopath. Within this context, ‘socio’ means giftedly and consummately different.” Do you understand my point? Overall, I believe that your mother would have grasped my meaning. ;)"

    She would have understood you in the sense that others saw her as different . . . I saw her as gifted and being years ahead of her time. Unfortunately, back then, shock treatments were considered 'helpful.' Those treatments nearly destroyed her. She was an extremely kind person who somehow managed to keep her sense of humor through it all and was always bringing home stray animals and people, usually folk from the nuthouse who had no family. "You are just like her. You will end up mad and in suicide."

    These words have greatly impacted me, alluding to everything that follows in your revealing dream. They mark a high, turning point."

    Those words marked a turning point for me all right. The dream sparked a story in which a woman decapitates her lover, a haughty poet. ;)

    In the dream I did not see the rest of her body. Which seems significant. Her head and the far-reaching thoughts residing therein, comprise what I most loved about her, and wanted to emulate. She wanted to be a writer and I was trying to be one when I had the dream. From the dream came a story. The story sold immediately and I recall feeling as though I'd redeemed something from her death. A hot gush of vitality filled my body.


    "All of the birds encircling and crossing the girth of the attic are rapidly and agitatedly flapping their wings in these powerfully intense moments. Their sounds are creating a strange, instant echo. However, as I look at my body, I notice that I have morphed into something else… something with black, pointy and slithering feathers. As soon as I try to define or place it, I wake up… still thinking of the sable, sinister rendezvous."

    I wonder how you view the birds in your dream. The sinister wraith and the birds appear connected somehow, as if the former is a negative reflection of the latter, which seems more benign. Did this dream frighten you? Or did you wake up feeling excited, empowered? Sometimes I've dreamt of spilling my own blood and it was not horrifying: I was enthralled with the red designs, eerily entrancing script, made on white porcelain. The blood in those dreams seemed to contain 'messages.' So far I haven't been able to decipher them, however. ;)

    "An enticing, but sometimes chilly, way of remembering the past is to open a very tight drawer. As it were, you happen to be looking for something in particular, which you can’t place. At some point, something falls out at the back of the drawer, and that is often far more interesting."

    This has been my experience also. While tramping in the backwoods of my mind I often stumble upon long buried artifacts, rusty and bent out of shape. One never knows where these fit into the 'new' order of things until they fall into place.

    Mr. Hyde



    Mr. Hyde




    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. “Apperception of hidden variables, the unraveling of one's inner paradox, is certainly the work we are sharing in our lifetimes. It's the uncommon ground from which W.E.'s treehouse stems. We are both a tad obsessed with poking into the essence of the rich black soil. I like getting my hands dirty with you. Making mud pies and such. ;) The J&H musical facilitates this process. I really enjoyed it, which is unusual, as I generally don't like musicals. Have you ever seen Dancer in the Dark? I love that movie.”

      Deciphering one’s inner paradox and connecting all of the hidden variables is a true craft, creating everything that we are sharing in our lifetimes. As your thoughts reveal, this paradox is the origin of the subconscious’ or W.E.’s novel passion in the treehouse, seeing you and I as the enigmatically impassioned progenitors or discoverers. W.E. will be our métier, showing both the ecstasy and the horror that can depict our lives.

      The ongoing obsession that you’ve mentioned is surely there, the essence of the black soil having a summoning “intonation” and “sound” for us. Listening closely, the echoing sound and scent of you getting your hands dirty with me is a mesmeric and gripping vision that has been expanding throughout our treehouse, and the J&H musical enables this high progression. Being a “Dancer in the Dark,” which I really like, reveals that an intricate world and its black-soil-infrastructure can be really infinite. This particular thought from the movie alludes to this incomparable experience:

      “Because you just know when it goes really big... and the camera goes like out of the roof... and the film would just go on forever.”

      “I understand. W.E. need some other way to communicate. Email? Mr. Hyde has an account.”

      Yes, W.E. need another way to communicate, and email sounds great. What is your email address, Mr. Hyde? Parnasse has an account, too. :)

      To be continued….

      Delete
    2. “The computer speakers are still inoperative. But strangely, the plug-in speakers, which at first appeared broken, suddenly switched back on last night after reading/sniffing your post. ;)”

      I often try to visualize your style of reading/sniffing my posts, and that has made a defining, pictorial difference for me. I keep pouring the imagined, alembic flask of your cleverly-tailored ways, along with my own envisioned miens, into W.E.’s avant-garde, peregrine aroma and distinctly ominous decanter/vial. ;)

      "I believe . . . that both your past and mine are not where we think that we have left them. Fitting all of the pieces into one whole montage is my goal."

      “W.E's story is like a container, an alembic in which the elements, dark and light, are thus transformed. I believe that through the act of writing, we can discover the shining thread that leads the way through the labyrinth. The push and pull of our minds striving to create a whole piece will be for me a new experience. Together, our imaginations will explore regions angels fear to tread. I feel confident that this process will produce something very strange and beautiful.”

      I have designed my style references and fathomable positions as black ink letters and drawings strewn with blood-red in rolling, black backgrounds, so that W.E.’s passageway appears as a thread that unwinds the road through the labyrinth. As your thoughts hum or pulsate, the rising waters of our minds will endeavor to piece together those boondocks where “angels fear to tread.” I, too, feel confident about this course, creating something that grasps all of our depths.

      “She would have understood you in the sense that others saw her as different . . . I saw her as gifted and being years ahead of her time. Unfortunately, back then, shock treatments were considered 'helpful.' Those treatments nearly destroyed her. She was an extremely kind person who somehow managed to keep her sense of humor through it all and was always bringing home stray animals and people, usually folk from the nuthouse who had no family. ‘You are just like her. You will end up mad and in suicide’."

      “Would it make you feel better If I told you a secret?”

      “What secret could you tell me?”
      (from “Dancer in the Dark”)

      I know it innately, and I will keep it. :)

      I have one question, though, Mr. Hyde. In your inquisitive mind, or when gathering an overall image of her through the lengths of time, how was she years ahead of her time?

      “Those words marked a turning point for me all right. The dream sparked a story in which a woman decapitates her lover, a haughty poet. ;)”

      A haughty poet…. This is how I would like our fitting, dark, imbibing and ominous journey to manifest, spoor and feel through W.E.:

      “Patient earth-digger, impatient fire-maker,
      Hungry word-taker and roving sound-lover,
      Sharer and saver, muser and acher,
      You who are open to hide or uncover,
      Time-keeper and –hater, wake-sleeper, sleep-waker;
      May language’s language, the silence that lies
      Under each word, move you over and over,
      Turning you, wondering, back to surprise.” (Annie Finch)

      I shared the above lines with you because they have that specific effect on me. It is called “A Blessing on the Poets,” but what’s in a title? It could be "anything." Really. ;)

      “In the dream I did not see the rest of her body. Which seems significant. Her head and the far-reaching thoughts residing therein, comprise what I most loved about her, and wanted to emulate. She wanted to be a writer and I was trying to be one when I had the dream. From the dream came a story. The story sold immediately and I recall feeling as though I'd redeemed something from her death. A hot gush of vitality filled my body.”

      Delete
    3. Linking to previous thoughts....

      Like so?

      “To hear never-heard sounds,
      To see never-seen colors and shapes,
      To try to understand the imperceptible
      Power pervading the world;
      To fly and find pure ethereal substances
      That are not of matter
      But of that invisible soul pervading reality.
      To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;
      To be a lantern in the darkness
      Or an umbrella in a stormy day;
      To feel much more than know.
      To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;
      To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;
      To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;
      To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets
      Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.

      To be a smile on the face of a woman
      And shine in her memory
      As a moment saved without planning.” (D. Stojanović)

      “…and I recall feeling as though I'd redeemed something from her death. A hot gush of vitality filled my body.”

      Once again, I feel intensely and acutely impacted. It is both unusual and marking to see how your thoughts reach me.

      “I wonder how you view the birds in your dream. The sinister wraith and the birds appear connected somehow, as if the former is a negative reflection of the latter, which seems more benign. Did this dream frighten you? Or did you wake up feeling excited, empowered? Sometimes I've dreamt of spilling my own blood and it was not horrifying: I was enthralled with the red designs, eerily entrancing script, made on white porcelain. The blood in those dreams seemed to contain 'messages.' So far I haven't been able to decipher them, however. ;)

      The sinister wraith is not a negative reflection. It is dark, piercing and ominous, magnetizing and beguiling me. It feels innate inside my mind and body. The connection is natural, as though calling or drawing me in. In all truth, it feels like I belong.

      Frightened? No, I woke up feeling profusely immersed in it, meaning the spilled blood, menacing aura and unusual, deviant sensations. As I contemplate your thoughts, I am trekking within your envisioned image of blood on white porcelain or porcelain-like skin. Thrice impacted. The blood within the messages are yours to keep. ;)

      “This has been my experience also. While tramping in the backwoods of my mind I often stumble upon long buried artifacts, rusty and bent out of shape. One never knows where these fit into the 'new' order of things until they fall into place.”

      The places that you’ve described transmute into an exuding gallery or hidden rooms inside my mind. I want to know them. All of them. What is the visual shape of one of your long buried artifacts, Mr. Hyde?

      Delete
    4. "The blood within...the messages are yours to keep."

      Here is a bit of clarification: As with all dreams in the night, the messages are yours, or for the dreamer's wraith, to keep. ;)

      Delete
    5. "I often try to visualize your style of reading/sniffing my posts, and that has made a defining, pictorial difference for me." Same here. ;)

      "I keep pouring the imagined, alembic flask of your cleverly-tailored ways, along with my own envisioned miens, into W.E.’s avant-garde, peregrine aroma and distinctly ominous decanter/vial. ;)"

      A vial of "Perfume" (by Patrick Suskind)hopefully. :D

      "I have one question, though, Mr. Hyde. In your inquisitive mind, or when gathering an overall image of her through the lengths of time, how was she years ahead of her time?"

      She worked when many women confined themselves to the role of housewife, rode motorcycles, read strange books, experimented with religion and was an activist for human rights and the rights of women. I will never forget the uproar in our working class white neighborhood when she brought a carload of African Americans over to our house for a little gospel jam session. My dad was outraged and the neighbors never really forgave her.

      "A haughty poet…. This is how I would like our fitting, dark, imbibing and ominous journey to manifest, spoor and feel through W.E.:"

      How so? J or H?

      Mr. Hyde


      Delete
    6. For W.E.'s treehouse, from my story Lost Spirit Lake:

      Mirrored waters, Spirit lake
      Springs eternal dreams do make
      Pearling memories in its wake.

      Faces gleam the darkling deep
      Soothing those who weeping peep
      Here to comfort and to keep.

      I would add that W.E. resonates
      In the lake, where dreams awake.

      Mr. Hyde



      Delete
    7. "She was an extremely kind person who somehow managed to keep her sense of humor through it all and was always bringing home stray animals and people, usually folk from the nuthouse who had no family. ‘You are just like her. You will end up mad and in suicide’."

      No. I will not end up like her -- she gave up the fight because there were too many forces aligned against her. That's not my case. As my GP said last week, "You are highly resilient." It would take extraordinary circumstances for me to chose suicide. I've seen and experienced the damage done by such choices.

      “Would it make you feel better If I told you a secret?”

      Of course it would. Secrets bind one person to another.

      My secrets, sad to say, are few and really quite boring. My brute transparency says it best: Screw 'em if they can't take a human existential joke.


      Mr. Hyde

      PS The sun rises beneath the horizon in the darkest fillip of night. :)

      Delete
    8. "Once again, I feel intensely and acutely impacted. It is both unusual and marking to see how your thoughts reach me."

      Unusual markings mark the spoor of W.E. because our common yearning resonates, thus providing nutrients to grow the next limb of W.E's treehouse. Nature wants us To Know. Lol. I'm joking but I also mean it with every fiber of my being. ;)

      I don't know you. You don't know me. W.E. knows, though. :D

      The invisible forces inside the hidden rooms can/will come through in the writing of Our story. Within passion and human conflict, the horror and glory of duality comes to the fore.

      W.E. are twin sides of mirrored waters. Passionate feeling and passionate detachment. Blazing waters where the elements mix to form . . . ?? We'll see.

      I sense something altogether different, unexpected, emerging from our literary aspirations. W.E. can only try to live it through the intricate curves of our story, black letters outlined in blood, by dancing in the literary noonday demon sun. :))

      You and I possess a playful poetic, philosophical sensibility and a sensorial passion. This will take W.E. far. Above the jungle canopy and deep into its roots.

      Mr. Hyde

      Delete
    9. “For W.E.'s treehouse, from my story Lost Spirit Lake:

      Mirrored waters, Spirit lake
      Springs eternal dreams do make
      Pearling memories in its wake.

      Faces gleam the darkling deep
      Soothing those who weeping peep
      Here to comfort and to keep.

      I would add that W.E. resonates
      In the lake, where dreams awake.”

      My reply to you:

      Here is the true spirit and secret that W.E. know
      to keep,
      through our spirit springs the root of the growing root,
      and the sprout of the only sprout,
      and the firmament of a vault of a tree called W.E. -
      which will continue to grow ceaselessly
      higher than the core can hope or thinker can shroud -
      and this is the wonder that will never keep W.E. apart.

      I infinitely carry your thoughts (I carry your hopes within me, Mr. Hyde.)

      Delete
    10. “Secrets bind one person to another.”

      Yes, they bind us to each other, Mr. Hyde. W.E. is our creation and our treasure.

      “My brute transparency says it best: Screw 'em if they can't take a human existential joke.”

      You say “brute transparency,” I say nonpareil. :)

      “PS The sun rises beneath the horizon in the darkest fillip of night. :)”

      You and I wear our strange beauty whether W.E. erupt from the dark, or whether W.E. fillip into an unwavering sun.

      Delete
    11. “The invisible forces inside the hidden rooms can/will come through in the writing of Our story. Within passion and human conflict, the horror and glory of duality comes to the fore.”

      W.E. only live twice.
      Once when W.E. are born,
      And another when W.E. write Our story.

      “Blazing waters where the elements mix to form . . . ?? We'll see.”

      I crave your thoughts, your visions, W.E.’s voice.
      Having a voice and seeking, I step inside the treehouse.
      Normal bread does not sustain me,
      I feed on the vial of W.E.’s scent.

      “I sense something altogether different, unexpected, emerging from our literary aspirations. W.E. can only try to live it through the intricate curves of our story, black letters outlined in blood, by dancing in the literary noonday demon sun. :))”

      Over and over within our intricate abode, W.E. caper.
      Though passion spoors like a river of blood -
      Dancing and sniffing W.E.’s drops in the twilight.

      “You and I possess a playful poetic, philosophical sensibility and a sensorial passion. This will take W.E. far. Above the jungle canopy and deep into its roots.”

      Yet round the fillip’s core I see,
      W.E.’s road, or a secret gate.
      A day or night will come at last when W.E.
      Will take those covert alleys and merge
      So uncommonly:
      West of the sun, east of the moon.

      Delete
  30. “To hear never-heard sounds,
    To see never-seen colors and shapes,
    To try to understand the imperceptible
    Power pervading the world;
    To fly and find pure ethereal substances
    That are not of matter
    But of that invisible soul pervading reality.
    To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;"

    This rings my bell, Parnasse. It reminds me of a vision I had of my mom while meditating. Certain images spark potent sensations, grow wings. Sometimes the wings are slightly twisted. ;)

    "The places that you’ve described transmute into an exuding gallery or hidden rooms inside my mind."

    I'm curious. What do you see in those hidden rooms?

    "I want to know them. All of them. What is the visual shape of one of your long buried artifacts, Mr. Hyde?"

    A dream vision of two crystal pyramids alive with lightening, joined at the base. A red wagon filled with all my kid stuff.

    When H is finished writing his post to Dr. J, you can email mr.ja.hyde@gmail.com ;) Or whenever you like.

    Mr. Hyde



    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I just sent you a message at the above email address. I'll "see" you there, Mr. Hyde. ;)

      Delete
    2. Message received:

      "Deciphering one’s inner paradox and connecting all of the hidden variables is a true craft, creating everything that we are sharing in our lifetimes. As your thoughts reveal, this paradox is the origin of the subconscious’ or W.E.’s novel passion in the treehouse, seeing you and I as the enigmatically impassioned progenitors or discoverers. W.E. will be our métier, showing both the ecstasy and the horror that can depict our lives.

      The ongoing obsession that you’ve mentioned is surely there, the essence of the black soil having a summoning “intonation” and “sound” for us. Listening closely, the echoing sound and scent of you getting your hands dirty with me is a mesmeric and gripping vision that has been expanding throughout our treehouse, and the J&H musical enables this high progression. Being a “Dancer in the Dark,” which I really like, reveals that an intricate world and its black-soil-infrastructure can be really infinite. This particular thought from the movie alludes to this incomparable experience:

      “Because you just know when it goes really big... and the camera goes like out of the roof... and the film would just go on forever.”

      On and on. Forever.

      Mr. Hyde

      "

      Delete
    3. “On and on. Forever.”

      I believe in you, and I believe in W.E (i.e., together with all of the received messages). Infinitely, Mr. Hyde.

      Delete
  31. More people need to be on http://sociopath-community.com/

    !!! it used to be connected to this blog but was disconnected over a year ago. We need fresh blood and lots of interesting things have happened recently (relates to kiwifar.ms drama: https://archive.is/M2tXa) that will go down in the forum's history! Be sure to check out http://www.psychforums.com/antisocial-personality/ too, as some of its regulars are regulars on SC too!

    Goddamn ME refused to reconnect the blog to the forum so we SC goers will just have to spam advertisements for the forum in the comments section. ;)

    ReplyDelete

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