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The Magical Universe

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Introduction [Jun. 30th, 2006|05:12 pm]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Music |Geek USA - Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream]

What follows is an introducing of one's self (myself) to the LiveJournal community magicaluniverse. There are many other, more appropriate, bits of information which I could choose to share; you, however, are stuck with these. I am not good at setting an example; I am, however, good at expecting the unrealistic. sakeofmercy is expected (by me) to go next, simply because I know that the journal is active. I don't believe in chain letters, but someone else ought to for this to succeed.


I am not sure that I can explain this. The nature of that which I am trying to explain necessitates my not trying.

I do not think. I used to (think) in ways which resulted in (or were the result of) mental anguish/annoyance. I used to have no choice (but to write my way out). It (thought) began to cease sometime around my eighteenth birthday. I was still frequently unhappy/uncomfortable, but I didn't think. I was, however, more conscious of this... of there being some experience always on the edge of experience that I could (at any moment) accidently/purposefully experience. Zoloft managed to eliminate most of the free-floating neurosis that had been omni-present (with or without thought) and the discomfort almost entirely ceased.

Is it necessary to understand what I mean by think? Can I explain it without doing it? Have you ever panicked, utterly, because you understood that you were? Not "what", not "who", not even a paltry "where," but merely were. Read more...Collapse )

I don't want identification, sympathy, a shared awareness; I just want something to pass the time, to absorb, consume until I'm forced to surface again. I could describe the "mistakes I've made in love" and gush over how certain Buddhist thought warns against them and then lament, "but how was I to know that trapped in a Catholic/secular world?" I could go in-depth concerning my obsessions and compulsions and their tie-in connection to magical thought and the frustration I feel in a world that (largely) does not view reality the same. I have experience and memoirs detailing great sex that was bad sex and was all tied inexplicably to the inability to not excessively dream, an ability which Michael Stipe sees fit to detail in just another pop song begging the question "does he really feel it?" Did he--who was not Mr. Stipe, just another fan--really feel it and does he still years later when I've finally found the unscented soap he was searching for?
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5+3=97+input9 [Jun. 28th, 2006|01:08 pm]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Location |Turlock, CA]
[Current Mood |awakeawake]

Nine is a safe number; it has a lot of threes. Why do you have posting access to this journal? I'm fluent in pop culture and maybe you are too... so is it the quotation of Nin, Burroughs, or the reference to R.E.M.? All three are common. And subject to change, they are aspects of my current quotable generic alludiatory system to me... but you? Ok, or there are 97 interests listed:

"this", abnormal psychology, addiction, awareness, belief, blindness, buddhism, burroughs, butterfly stars, catharsis, catholicism, chinese finger traps, communication, conceptual cages, control, cut-ups, cutting, cyllib, dharma bums, disbelief, dreams, eight, enoch root, faith, faithless, fiction, fight club, finding a way out, fugue states, gyres, idiopathic hypersomnia, insomnia, jesus, joan vollmer, john, jung, language, lost time, lucid dreaming, missing time, mugwumps, nonsense sentences, numbers, obsessive compulsive disorder, occlusion, paradigm shifts, paradoxes, paranoia, parasomnia, perfectionism, philip k. dick, pilate, plato, plato and john, polyamory, prayer, prufrock, psychoanalysis, psychosis, psychosomatic, pushing boundaries, r.e.m., r.e.m. (the sleep stage), reality, rem, right association, rob marlo, salve regina, seven, sex magic, sleep stages, socrates, socrates and jesus, solipsism, solipsists, soma, spiritus mundi, ssris, sublimation, syllogisms, symbolic logic, t.s. eliot, tactile hallucinations, the magical universe, the meaning of is, the roman empire, the sacred heart, the wasteland, this, thought, three, valis, william butler yeats, william s. burroughs, writing, yabyum, zero.

These are much more likely to vanish and I've left room for 53 more (which equals eight at worst). I do not mean for this to be static or to be a passive exercise in what she will say next. What forum is this in which I am posting? Writers write and this is LiveJournal. This entry has comments turned off, so make your own. Say something on the subject of interests because there are, after-all, at least eight more the system will let me add.
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11th-April-06 [May. 1st, 2006|05:52 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |Turlock, CA]
[Current Mood |awakeawake]

I used to strive ((or claim to)) ^in regard to^ “this”... which is some thing, maybe a thing, or no thing, but more explicit than thing I can’t really get without attributing qualities and associations which may not be accurate. Even the label of Xthing begins to evoke images I’d rather not allow you because they’re certainly not right. So anyway--it’s all digressions--I used to obsess over chronicling and, more importanly, explaining “this.” I wanted to communicate. I wanted to plead my case, justice or something. I wanted to connect, fuck, be alive, fear death.

It isn’t that I don’t now. I really would like to say, “I don’t know.” It’s odd to think that some explanation/decimation of “this” isn’t my life’s work. It isn’t even that I don’t want to connect--Although, I do not want to connect--to another(s) human being(s): But it is impossible. It isn’t what or how to write but, rather, WHY. I used to take a page from Burroughs’s book, “I had no choice but to write my way out” But I’m Out! Do I no longer need the audience?

OK, because from here on is where it really starts to get fucked: words,, writing,, have no longer lost their appeal,, hold on me,, but one thing has... the easily expalined artistic “intent,” the need for connect/disconnect that’s on the same level as fucking, the impetus behind my years as a slut. The need. For reaction the need the promise of some sacred mystic ultimate BJ shit... maybe that was the initial hook, the free dealer’s dose but it isn’t now.

There are some things (Xthings) about me I no longer ((in this second)) feel inclined to explain. My involvement with word/language ((thought/virus disease)) thickens; it was inescapable a long time ago. It is for THEIR sake my obsession with them continues... theirs, mine, and everything else is Distant. Theory. An audience is necessary b/c they demand it, understand: for them to be //with// but mainly to Be words they must not be kept in isolation ((as if I could!))... thus the need for an audience. This isn’t the zen it might sound. If it’s the moment before the plunge into mental chaos for myself... well then it is; this chain of action goes too far back to //stop//.


Maybe it can be explained. I’m not sure, although, to what purpose. If it can not there not now in public where I ego must “maintain” control ...they may demand it.



[cross-posted between rparker and magicaluniverse]
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Go Team America. [Jan. 31st, 2006|01:49 pm]
The Magical Universe
sakeofmercy
I think George Bush is a silly man.
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Bibliophilia [Jan. 11th, 2006|01:26 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Tags|]
[Current Music |Mouth Wooed Her - Animal Collective - Sung Tongs]

Title, Author, Genre, Whatever and Why


But not just books, how about deliberately arranged letters in general?
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The trauma of being (an expert on one's self) [Dec. 26th, 2005|01:40 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Tags|]
[Current Mood |uncomfortableuncomfortable]
[Current Music |Poor Places - Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot]

It's difficult to determine what is me and what is X disorder, X childhood scar, X genetic flaw, X typical trait of my age / gender /socioeconomic class, and so on. The easy answer would be that it all is, or that none of it is; take your pick. What is learned and what was forced upon me from the start (where is the start)? What can I erase and what can I only hope to learn to control? I like to dive into narcissistic essays and dialogues (who am I kidding? monologues) on the subject; however, there is a problem with this: no one else cares. And, not only do they not care, but even if they did and I believe that if they think they do they're involved in their own mind game delusional bullshit they still are not an expert on me and, in fact, know less about myself than I do.

So really, why tell anyone anything? The problem with this mentality is that it goes against both my temperament and upbringing. I mean, I think I've finally gotten over the whole "best friends forever" mentality, but it sometimes seems selfish and misguided to have done so. Despite the advice Cosmo gives, I seem to be incapable of keeping information to myself. I need to talk, or write, or sleep around ... I have great difficulty keeping anything to myself. Why? Where is the survival benefit in this? Well, I see the survival benefit, but what about the more intangible? the "what it is" I'm supposedly seeking?

I need to abruptly begin a new paragraph and leave it up to you to figure out how it's related. Sylvia Plath wrote something like, "I close my eyes and all the world drops dead. / I think I made you up inside my head." Now, while it's really cliche to quote "Mad Girl's Love Song," I do it with a purpose: an outside reference for the ideas I'm about to pose, one of many but the catchiest to remember and cite because it rhymes. I make people up. Be careful. Don't get too close to me, or I may create you too. I think that there is a Buddhist idea of a great deal of suffering being caused by these kinds of illusions, not seeing people for who they really are. Also throw in another [probable mis]quote, but I won't cite the book or author (it's famous, what a great game), "Don't ever tell anybody anything. You just end up missing them."

Paragraph break and breathe. This isn't a well thought out essay. This is me trying not to panic.

I can think of several instances where I really did invent my lovers (probably grade school best friends too, but those perceptions are lost and even more obscured). For years. Four years in one memorable instance. The same with infatuations, obsessions, mostly made up. Now, not talking about actual psychosis here; these were real people. However, I frequently add ((stop they probably still ARE real people, somewhere... I don't think I've killed anyone yet)) aspects of personality and emotion that just aren't there. I have to make them a certain way for the relationship to have any chance of approaching what it is I'm ...searching for? Now, don't read this as a glossing over of flaws, idealizations, not quite. I often need(ed) to make them and myself much worse than we really were in order to have any chance of achieving the catharsis I seek .... is that what I seek? Well, it's one of those things I like, much more than orgasm. The easiest way to invent lovers is through a literary love affair, distance helps but isn't required, notes passed in the hall can do just as well....

What was I saying? Peel back another layer further to actual imaginary friends. Probably for the first five to eight years of my life (dim and blurry and phased out gradually) I didn't have just one imaginary friend, but several, say an entire soap opera's worth. So I created this world and took it everywhere with me, superimposing it over the everyday; I don't think I ever mentioned it back then. Every event fit into it somehow. It included real people cast in completely fantastical roles. If I had been a smarter teenager I would have remembered this and stopped and more closely examined the relationships I was forming. Because it's all really the same thing.

This may tie together or these may be two separate essays. If I could turn my fucked interpersonal interactions into a novel well then... something; I'd have a novel at least, although probably not a very good one. I haven't concluded these thoughts, but I won't be able to continue this later. I'll have to start over and try again. It gets tedious (but for you or for me, I'm not sure). The thing I was thinking about when I began this is this: I get ideas. I get very enthusiastic about them. They consume me. A short time later they lose their magic. Either I realize, "Oh shit, that was seriously bad judgment, a fucked thing to do" or they simply lose their charm. I could describe this in more vivid terms, but it doesn't matter. It isn't something you want to achieve and if you do achieve it well then you know, right? But I was just thinking about this because it fits in with my DSM4 diagnosis exactly. Exactly. I've always been this way. I haven't changed to fit the diagnosis. But what the hell is the point of such clinical descriptions, or identifying with them or not? To feel not so left out? To fit in? Well fuck that. I want nothing to do with other people diagnosed the same as me; some of those fucks are crazy.
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(no subject) [Dec. 23rd, 2005|08:40 pm]
The Magical Universe
sakeofmercy
i drink, therefore i am.

or maybe not.

?
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Prufrock says: [Dec. 19th, 2005|02:23 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Mood |apatheticapathetic]
[Current Music |E.I. - Nelly & St. Lunatics - Da Derrty Versions - The Reinvention]

An explanation will be forthcoming (but not now).
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Don't take it so seriously. [Dec. 19th, 2005|02:20 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
[Current Mood |blankblank]
[Current Music |Pimp Juice - Nelly & Ron Isley - Da Derrty Versions - The Reinvention]

Reality is that which when you stop believing in it won't go away. -PKD

I close my eyes and all the world drops dead. -S. Plath

If you read that: reality is.

It depends on what the meaning of is is. -B. Clinton

Control can never be a means to anything but more control. -WSB

But what is sex but control? What is is but?

Existence. A good friend of mine. (A person who had been a good friend of mine.) Always misspelled that one word. Consistently. He was not unintelligent.

Emotion is that which when you stop believing in it usually goes away.

Then what is thought? It may just be that I cannot meditate. I know I don't. Where does intoxication enter the equation and fucking?
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spiritus mundi and you [Dec. 13th, 2005|05:02 am]
The Magical Universe

rparker
Opinions on how the idea of an universal unconscious and the reality of solipsism interact:
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