Dear Diary

29 April 2017

Day of Saturn – Hour of Mercury

This is why I love the I Ching. It has been such a good “friend” and adviser for so long. I’ve only got this particular hexagram below on only 3 or 4 occasions, and I think I blogged about it once. It doesn’t turn up often but when it does I know enough to listen. I used my homemade yarrow sticks this morning. Admittedly they’re not that great but they do work for me. Below is this morning’s reading.

I Ching Hexagram: 33

Name: Tun.

Keyphrase: Retreat.

“Conditions are such that the hostile forces favored by the time are advancing. In this case, retreat is the right course, and it is through retreat that success is achieved. But success consists in being able to carry out the retreat correctly. Pushing too hard = life responds by pushing back. The idea of inflexible thinking or hard headed-ness can be associated with Tun unchanging. There is not much you can do in this situation but step back and give the situation or person breathing room. If your inquiry involves a relationship, you may have pushed someone into a corner.”

Well isn’t THAT interesting. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that my stubbornness is going to be my downfall here and “go with the flow” (where did I hear that before!) really is the answer. Besides, for all practical reasons, just blurting out what I feel is probably not the answer.

The timeline indicated is at least one year, and Autumn is indicated as well. We shall see what we shall see.

28 April 2017

Day of Venus – Hour of the Moon

It’s Friday, and Venus is firmly in charge. And no big surprise emotions are insane. I have no answers. Only questions and confusion. These few weeks will make a great poem. Or a book. Why is everything always so difficult and unattainable? Why? And the vision in the shewstone is still fog.

I’ve mentioned Rimbaud several times here. Here’s a little history. I’m quoting here because I’m not that clever:

“A Season in Hell. A spiritual and confessional autobiography.
Arthur Rimbaud was a genius.
His writings were a quest. A search for perfection. An attempt to find total freedom.
At the age of 19, Arthur Rimbaud committed suicide. Not of the flesh, but of the mind and soul. ”

Which means he never wrote another word and disappeared off the face of the earth. He was not seen nor heard from again for nearly 20 years, until he reappeared in a hospital in Marseilles on his deathbed.

~

I’ve returned from a vacation. Spending 6 days island hopping (during the off season) will give you plenty of solitude and plenty of time to think. The beaches were deserted and the Inn was deserted. I have no problem with that. I brought a notebook and did some writing. I brought along Rimbaud’s “A Season in Hell” and did some reading. And I re-examined some situations I’m in and sorted what needed to be sorted. There’s a film called “The Edge” with Sir Anthony Hopkins. In the film he states, “…I never knew anybody who did actually change their lives. l tell you what… l’m going to start my life over.” And his companion says , “Then you’d be the first.” I can understand that conversation, because many people have said that they’re going to start their lives over, but very few actually do. Well, I AM going to. I received some perspective on the islands away from the things of man. I also uploaded my old Bio page to this blog called “A Brief (Magical) History)” Some of my interests I hid for professional reasons. But to hell with it, I am who I am.

Here are some pics from my trip. As usual, click to enlarge.

 

22 April 2017

Today’s I Ching. Probably totally on the mark. I sometimes have blinders on, but it’s pretty obvious what I need to be doing. I know that much of what has happened to me in the past wasn’t good, but it’s time to bury it in the sand. The Abyss is long past. I crossed it metaphorically and literally, no need to re-live it.

“From my island home I feel a chance
Kiss the tired ghost of time and circumstance.
So give me peace of mind and let me dance
And bury all my pain of years beneath the sand.”

The Chinese character ku represents a bowl in whose contents worms are breeding. This means decay. IT is come about because the gentle indifference in the lower trigram has come together with the rigid inertia of the upper, and the result is stagnation. Since this implies guilt, the conditions embody a demand for removal of the cause. Hence the meaning of the hexagram is not simply “what has been spoiled” but “work on what has been spoiled”.

Clinging to past injuries and hurts is foolish.

WORK ON WHAT HAS BEEN SPOILED
Has supreme success.
It furthers one to cross the great water.
Before the starting point, three days.
After the starting point, three days

Nine in the third place means:

Setting right what has been spoiled by the father.
There will be a little remorse. No great blame.

What has been spoiled through man’s fault can be made good again through man’s work. IT is not immutable fate, as in the time of STANDSTILL, that has caused the state of corruption, but rather the abuse of human freedom. Work toward improving conditions promises well, because it accords the possibilities of the time. We must not recoil from work and danger-symbolized by crossing of the great water-but must take hold energetically. Success depends, however, on proper deliberation. This is expressed by the lines, “Before the starting point, three days. After the starting point, three days.”

► The above was a cut and paste job because, with my typing skills, it would have taken time I don’t have today. The I Ching has been a most trusted adviser for many, many years. I have gotten insight into the most challenging of situations. I started out with the Legge translation but rely mainly on Wilhelm now. But clearly my work is laid out in front of me. There are things that I need to do, things I’m not doing.

I want to say to a special friend that I’m thankful for your friendship. As you told me, I AM a true gentleman and you are a Lady in EVERY sense of the word. I have nothing but respect for you.

21 April 2017

3.15 pm Day of Venus – Hour of Mercury. Some would call this the “Tower Hour”. Sure as hell feels like it.
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11.00 am. So doing the “right thing” isn’t easy. But maybe it’s not supposed to be. I don’t even know. This has been an amazing 3 weeks and I’ll not forget.

So here we are, “the 21st of April.” I fully expect to be indoors tonight watching this. I’ll have my doors and windows locked; you can’t be too careful. The lighthouse in the film is the Point Reyes Lighthouse in California. It’s supposedly the second foggiest place in the United States, Nantucket being the most foggiest.

 

This is hilarious. Remember those Jehovah’s Witness and those Latter Day Saints commercials? This is a take off on those. It’s just great.

“Do you want to be a nicer person? Are you looking for inspiration to do good things? Well keep looking. But if you’re into opening up terrifying vistas of reality then the Esoteric Order of the Old Ones and Cthulhu Cultists want to help. Contact us today to find out how.”

20 April 2017

I hope you are watching “The Fog” tomorrow night. The 21st of April, that’s when the action takes place. Watch the original, none of this re-make shit. Also, I uploaded some stuff onto the Music page, I especially like the Dudley Moore video.

Back in my “Pagan” days when I was really into Nature religion and Druidry, I was introduced to this song. Although this was ages and ages ago, I still have a soft spot for my Pagan friends and their ways. The holidays are beautiful and I often still celebrate them. I love the 5/4 and 7/4 time on this song. It’s a good tune. Try marching to it, I dare you.
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18 April 2017

Day of Mars – Hour of Venus

Venus hour. I wonder if anyone is feeling it besides me. I looked at the moon last night, halfway to dark. Probably not too many people seem to notice it these days, or notice the various phases and what they mean. No one looks up anymore.

I made a video about one of my influences. It’s hard to include an entire book on a video, so it’s just a few bits that make me go …ahhh.
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17 April 2017

I picked up a great book. And cheap! About half of what it would be new. There’s very faint underlining in it with pencil and a few notes. You can tell whoever owned it before was well into Jazz. The notes almost become part of the book so I don’t mind. Otherwise it’s a sad day for me; the Steinway concert grand I always use is now unavailable to me. It was a weekly thing for a long time. Now it’s gone. Sad. I took one last photo before I left. That instrument meant a lot to me. Click the pics below. Going on a night hike…

13 April 2017

Big Important Update: Not really super important, but… I’m taking off for a few days far from here. I am enclosing a picture of where I’ll be. But I didn’t take the picture and I’m borrowing it. But the website this pic came from is Right Here. Maybe pay them a visit, they seem like cool people. I won’t have cell phone service up there, especially off the beaten path way in the woods. If you see lightning in the sky, no worries. That’ll be me. Your Friendly Neighborhood Magician.

Did we survive the full moon unscathed? Now it gets darker, and I get darker and all that. I got an email asking what happened to all of my posts. I told him that my other activities need not be public. I told him its much easier for new business when people can’t google your name and see that other stuff. Maybe I could use a new name for that other stuff? I could be “Barnabas von Thorne”. Nah. Aleister Cooper? Nah. Mick Twat? Ooh I like that one, it sounds very British Rock and Roll.

Hello to a sweet friend:

“The tears are welling in my eyes again
I need twenty big buckets to catch them in
And twenty pretty girls to carry them down
And twenty deep holes to bury them in.”

In case you missed the Great Bear hanging by his tail in that video on the music page, here’s a screen capture:

See? Ask Simon to explain the significance.

Have you seen the film “Eddie and the Cruisers”? The first one, not part shit, I mean part two. Eddie seems to be a combination of Brian Wilson and Jim Morrison. He even names his most controversial track “Fire”. A dead giveaway. So, what do you want to be remembered for? Because one day they’ll build little 3 foot high monuments with your name on it. What will it say? What will you contribute? As Robin Williams asked, “What will your verse be?”

 

Lastly, I’m not all that into “romantic comedies” but I AM into the work of Philip Seymour Hoffman. Brilliant actor. Gone too soon. How many more times will we have to say those words?

I really like this film. Watch:

 

12 April 2017

The Music page updated with something very meaningful to me.

So an Indian Tribe is trying to put a gambling casino on Martha’s Vineyard. Oh please just fuck off. Seriously. Greed and commercialism are destroying everything they touch. As IF the Cape isn’t commercial enough in summer with tourists. Now this. There’s a film called “Summer of ’42” which is a quaint film about coming of age. It takes place on the islands of the Cape, but it was filmed in California. But it’s what the Cape means to me. Dunes, beaches and solitude. A casino? Again, and with feeling: fuck off.

Here are some motivating pictures. They juice me, they get my ass up in the morning, they help me stay motivated in the gym. I have a special friend who is also into fitness. Maybe they will juice her as well. Oh look! There’s my future car. Have a wonderful day all, I’ll be out of town… Click and they’ll get bigger and the captions will tell the story. (X)

 

11 April 2017

Venus Hour: For anyone interested there’s new music posted on the Music page. Nocturnal happenings tonight in the forest. There’s a Full Moon tonight which means watch your backs if you happen to be out. Everything you’ve ever heard about the “Boogeyman” and other things that go bump in the night… it’s all real. Sweetest dreams. X

I have thrown out everything in my life that has occurred before 2008. But everyday I see more and more shit that has survived the culling, hiding in a back corner of a storage room. How many more times?

The past two weeks, GOD! Just insane and no one and nothing can give me “the” answer. The cards can’t (or won’t). Perhaps a talk with an old friend in a very low place would help. “So many people in and out of my life, some will last some will just be now and then.” Some people should always stay in your life, in one capacity or another.

I hope this lasts and I hope she remembers, beyond September.

Of those who wait for me.
I cannot move a mountain now
I can no longer run.
I cannot be who I was then
In a way, I never was.

So when the shadows link them,
And burn away the clouds.
They will fly me, like an angel,
To a place where I can rest.
When this begins, I’ll let you know,
September when it comes.

► Current Music: David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.

10 April 2017

I wrote a new post and It can be found here. I was told that reading the post was “harrowing”. I said it was worse to live it.

Tonight: Piano playing at the school.
Thursday: Knights Templar meeting at my Masonic Temple. 25 years baby.
Friday: Being whisked away.

► Current Music: The Ramones and Miles Davis on heavy rotation.

► She might get all the girls. But I get her…
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8 April 2017

A few old blog posts are back. Just general stuff which is what this place will be, right until the moment I kill the blog. I went shopping today. Click to enlarge:

► I’m going to the beach tonight. Open your knees and feel the breeze, because Peter’s back…
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► Sebastian is also back (from beyond).  A funny video below.
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4 April 2017

I just saw the news about the horrible terrorist attack in Russia. Now, years ago I was in automobile sales. And I was very professional and ethical and I did pretty well. One of my customers was a gentleman from Russia. On a test drive he was teaching me some Russian phrases including how to say “checkmate” in Russian (I’m really really into chess). I LOVE the Russian people and have played many a match with them on the ICC. Now I hear about this.

I played piano last night at a school. I brought along some music books to work on my non existent chops. I took some pictures. And my bag makes its appearance. I also include a picture (I didn’t take this one) of what just may be my next drum kit or something very similar. Old school-ish. Click to enlarge.

 

3 April 2017

Dear Diary, why wasn’t I more serious about certain things? I sent out an email today and it reminded me of some of my past failures and mistakes (of which there are many). I’m playing catch-up and it’s not really fun. It’s not fun doing what I should have done when I was 20. I have taken some pics to remind myself of my past and hopefully better future as well as for anyone reading these rambles. I dug out some music books today and some really old vinyl. I like vinyl. Love vinyl. I also like analog. I also like the idea of real musicians in a studio playing real instruments into microphones onto tape. No Auto-Tune bullshit. Just talent.

I have some pics below, if you click them they get bigger. One is a couple of my Buddy Rich albums (complete with two Doors covers!). Then some snapshots when I went to see Buddy in concert so many years ago. Finally my “man bag”. Listen, I shudder at the thought of being called a “metro-sexual”. But the bag is great, it comes in handy when carrying music books, or rare occult books and keeps everything neat and organized and hidden. And worn over a black trench coat I look positively mysterious and all Necronomicon-ish.

2 April 2017

We’re headed to a Jazz club tonight in Boston. Indian food first, then some good music. I took a picture about 10 minutes ago of a few of my things on my bed because I’m in a total music mood and because I felt like it. This scarf, I wonder if anyone would recognize it. It’s been around.

Provocative, Opinionated, Argumentative, Prickly, Suffers fools not at all, Hates mediocrity, Spends his life in pursuit of excellence. What do you think, is this man a monster? Is he just driven?

Can you be the best, the very best or at the very least World Class by being an easy going guy? If you expect 1000% effort from yourself should you not expect it from those who you must associate with? What do you think?

31 March 2017

Day of Venus – Hour of Mars

You know, Walpurgisnacht is coming soon. I hope you’ve made plans. Maybe some naked romping in the local forest? Too cold? OK, then how about a bonfire on a distant hill, provided, naturally, you can get away with it; seems there’s a law against everything these days.

I have drumsticks. I have a hand. Look what happens when they’re together. Sure this is a nothing entry. But I did write TWO posts earlier today.

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30 March 2017

This Coltrane cut is one of those “OMG listen to THIS” kind of tunes. I still get teary eyed when I hear the studio cut. Music is color blind. Thank God.

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And this, a scene from one of my favorite films. Not quite my tempo…

 

28 March 2017

In a totally wistful mood as I listen to “Summer’s Almost Gone” by The Doors. I remember last summer, like summers before, sitting on a beach on Cape Cod and listening to that very song. But it’s cold and rainy here and I miss the warmth of the sun. I miss it. Below are some pictures from last year. Click them and they’ll get bigger.

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A song that reminds me of NYC of long ago:

 

And here’s a great song by Pink Floyd when Syd (I’m the only English musician to sing with an English accent) Barrett was in full command. Syd is a big influence on me. Good tune. Mr. Nigel Gordon sent me a few emails regarding that “Syd’s First Trip” video floating about and cleared up some doubts. He was there after all and he was behind the camera. He’s an interesting guy and a very stylish dresser. He also sent me some Granny Takes a Trip jacket pics that he had 🙂 Thank you.
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27 March 2017

I watched “American Horror Story – Asylum” last night. I was calm until Lily Rabe, playing an evil possessed nun, took her habit off, let her long blonde hair down, and climbed aboard the Monsignor to tempt him to forget his vows. I’m OK, really. I’ve even stopped sweating. One Nun I’d make a habit out of…

25 March 2017

Oscar Wilde. Crowley. Poe. Brian Jones. Quentin Crisp. Even Jesus (especially Jesus). And a thousand others. Outcasts, all.

The most interesting and refreshing people I have met and have read about were always outcasts. The most interesting friends I have known are the “freaky people” who are, by definition, not like everyone else. People who were themselves, despite the wagging finger of society and “acceptable behavior”. In a world where the masses are asses, I’m proud to say that I have never fit in. Thankfully.

And alien tears will fill for him
Pity’s long-broken urn,

For his mourners will be outcast men,

And outcasts always mourn.

22 March 2017

Day of Mercury – Hour of Jupiter

I’m standing proudly with my Brothers and Sisters in London today. This world, what has it become??

6.17 PM

Do you know that Phil Spector once called me at my house looking for his Caller ID box?  True story. I mention it not to drop names, but to bemoan the fact that one of the greatest minds and ears in music production can’t turn the knobs any longer. And that’s a tragedy.

Phil at Gold Star Recording Studios. Sadly the studio burned down and is a friggin’ STRIP MALL. Jesus…

 

9 November 2016

In another incarnation of this blog I mentioned that I don’t lie. I still don’t. Lying is vile and totally useless. It’s far easier to say NOTHING than to come up with a huge fairy tale. I write what I experience for good and for bad. I have had in my life far more failures than successes. I don’t consider myself anything more than a guy who writes and I have always felt left out and not like most of the others, especially as a kid in school where I was harassed beyond belief. It was a different world then I think. Teachers WATCHED while kids got picked on. My best friend, Michelle, understands what I am saying, probably better than anyone. We’ve been through a lot together and we were there for each other when no one else was. Best friends. The bestest friends.

8 November 2016

12.32pm
Day of Mars – Hour of Mars

Oppression isn’t cool and I think of our beautiful Sisters who are treated like second class citizens. My best friend is, in fact, female and she’s stronger and smarter than I’ll ever be. Jack Parsons, whom I’ve referenced several times elsewhere, wrote these words. I’m not a Thelemite, beautiful as my Thelemite friends are, but you don’t need to be to understand. They’re somehow fitting as I move forward with new vigor:

“She will come girt with the sword of freedom, and before her kings and priests will tremble and cities and empires will fall, and she will be called BABALON, the scarlet woman… And women will respond to her war cry, and throw off their shackles and chains, and men will respond to her challenge, forsaking the foolish ways and the little ways, and she will shine as the ruddy evening star in the bloody sunset of Gotterdamerung, will shine as a morning star when the night has passed, and a new dawn breaks over the garden of Pan.”

I have no more illusions. I’ve left the abyss far behind – never to return, not even to peek over the edge.

23 March 2016

I think it was last Autumn, around Halloween, when my neighbor approached me and politely asked why I had turned away from God. It wasn’t really out of the blue; we had talked religion before and he is, to his credit,  very involved with his church. He clearly was referencing the pumpkin I had on my front porch with a carved out pentagram on it. Now the pentagram is a symbol of many things. Magicians have used it for centuries as they are clearly to be found in the old grimoires. Even Christians have used it. And, of course, Pagans use it.

Getting back to my curious neighbor. I was taking my garbage out yesterday and saw, on his front door and bushes in front of his house, an Easter bunny and several Easter eggs. He doesn’t have small children. I smiled to myself that my very Christian neighbor feels the need to surround himself with Pagan fertility symbols during a very holy time of year. Curious indeed.

22 March 2016

Day of Mars – Hour of the Moon

I have to wonder why people who haven’t read one word of my blog “Follow” it. Why? I know this to be true because, and this is just ONE example, a Fundamentalist who was very active in his church followed my old blog which was way more occult oriented. When the first post arrived in his inbox he was mortified! He wrote asking what I was doing writing such things. And the blog title left nothing to the imagination that it was an occult blog. He followed it without even looking at it. I just don’t get it. Maybe they’re spam follows, just like spam “Likes”. You know, follows and likes merely to promote their own sites. Who knows. Funny though, in a way.

6.46pm

I was at a University tonight to do some piano playing and some writing. Unfortunately no great music flowed from my fingertips. I haven’t played in a while and I felt rusty. I started with scales to warm up. Not exactly how I used to play, I can say that. But I played on and some time during the late afternoon I snapped this picture. When Nick told Gatsby “You can’t repeat the past”, Gatsby replied, You can‘t repeat the past? Why of course you can.” I do wonder who is right. Or even if it’s a good thing to try. Or even contemplate.

But nothing stays the same, does it? All the places I used to go have either completely vanished or else they’re not even recognizable. The ocean’s the same, but only because they can’t build on it.

“That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you’re not looking, somebody’ll sneak up and write ‘Fuck you’ right under your nose.”
~ The Catcher in the Rye.

20 March 2016

First day of glorious Spring.

Do you believe in monsters? The Boogeyman? Allow me to shock you:

Slenderman is real. He is an egregore.
The Boogeyman has always existed; he just gets more media coverage now.

16 March 2016
Day of Mercury

W.B. Yeats. Poet. Scholar. Member of the original Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn before the cataclysmic schism, amidst the treachery and deceit, the quite possibly falsified Cipher Manuscripts and all of the trauma, ill-will, lawsuits and the hurt feelings regarding “authentic lineage” that has erupted since.

This man could write. Here is one of my favorite poems of all time. It’s also my favorite version, as there are several. I think it’s a chilling piece.

The Second Coming
by W.B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

9 March 2016

I’m saddened by the news of the death of Sir George Martin. Many years ago I attended a lecture at Harvard University that Sir George gave on the making of the Sgt. Pepper album. I sat in the next row from a few members of Aerosmith and I was cut in line by Brad Delp of the band Boston. But hey, he’s Brad Delp. A gracious guy though. Sir George, you will be missed. We’ve lost one of the greatest.
I salute you, Sir.

8 February 2016

In celebration of the Autumn yet to come:

Autumn is on us as we lie
In creamy clouds of latticed light
That hint at darkness, but descry
A rosy flicker through the night,
My mistress, my great Dane, and I.

We linger in the dusk — her head
Lolls on the pillow, and my eyes
Catch rapture, as upon the bed
He licks her lazy lips, and tries
To tempt her tongue. My fires are fed.

~ White Stains – Crowley

25 April 2015
We went to the symphony and had a really great time. Wonderful night and it was the closing of the season for us. Upon arriving I took a picture of the sign. But then something captured my eye: on the stone walkway, nearly hidden by a huge column I saw a sweet and slightly sad sentiment which was written with what looked like a Sharpie. Sweet and odd at the same time. I do wonder what the story is and I wonder who wrote it.

25 March 2015

Day of Mercury – Hour of Mercury
I really wasn’t built for the 21st century. I wasn’t. If you saw my house you’d think some magician from the 14th century lived here. I have nearly 2000 books in my library and a computer amongst the books, an hourglass, old globes and more gargoyles than I can count just looks silly. As far as this blog, nothing. Just going in circles. r = abθ

“The theater is closed and there is no place left to go…”

“And God does not care for your benevolence
Anymore than he cares for the lack of it in others
Nor does he care for you to sit
At windows in judgement of the world He created
While sorrows pile up around you
Ugly, useless and over-inflated.” – Nick Cave

2 April 2014

I have been reading a great book by George Plimpton. A biography about a most interesting and at times tragic figure in the literary world: Truman Capote.

Having sought out New York City as a young man and having experienced first hand the often decadent spoils of youth in that town, I enjoy reading about some of these more bohemian types. I enjoy Andy Warhol for what he was (and was not) and I would have liked to have seen the Factory in its heyday.

I watched a film and heard a great line, “Don’t worry about being good enough. Just go out there and play it, the best you can play it.” You know, that’s really good advice.

Years ago I played music and it was my life. I ate, drank and shat music. Then slowly I started moving in a different direction and my music was put on hold. Why?

Arthur Rimbaud’s “A Season in Hell” has had such a huge influence on me in my life. Little did I know, when I first read it when I was 23, that it would also be prophetic to me personally. It was just one season. Which I’ve burned. Disappearing might be fun, but exploding into a supernova definitely will be.

Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed. One evening I seated beauty on my knees. And I found her bitter. And I cursed her.

I armed myself against Justice.
I fled. O Witches, O Misery, O Hate, it was to you my treasure was entrusted!
I contrived to purge my mind of all human hope. I made the wild beast’s silent leap to strangle every joy.
I called to the executioners that I might gnaw their rifle butts while dying. I summoned plagues, to stifle myself with sand and blood. Misfortune was my God. I laid myself down in the mud. I dried myself in the air of crime. I played sly tricks on madness.

You who claim that the creatures sob with grief, that the sick despair, that the dead have bad dreams, try to recount my fall and my slumber. I can explain myself no better than the beggar with his incessant Our Father’s and Hail Mary’s. I can speak no more.

Yes, the new hour is at least very severe. For I can say that victory is won; the gnashing of teeth, the hissings of fire, the pestilential sighs are abating. All the noisome memories are fading. My last regrets take to their heels; envy of beggars, brigands, of death’s friends, of the backward of all kinds. O damned ones, what if I avenged myself!

Why talk of a friendly hand! My great advantage is that I can laugh at old lying loves and put to shame those deceitful couples – I saw the hell of women back there – and I shall be free to possess truth in one soul and one body.

April – August 1873

Arthur Rimbaud

 

One comment

  1. Pingback: I Was Mentioned. Fame At Last… | Peter Alexander Thorne

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