Broke down on the road to nod
Nov. 23rd, 2004 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonThe night has left me well tossed and turned. Dreamless. Zero REM sleep leaving me a fuzzy headache in the dark of dawn. Wake up and it looks like the same exact morning I woke up to yesterday. In fact it could very well be the one before that as well, or the one just before the last one and back track and match - see it and show; an alarm clock forever reseting itself to shriek and explode over and over and over and out and back in and begin until over and over again.
Shake it off boy! Fuck Eternal Recurrence, step off the loop, close the circuit and make it yours by making it different.
I'm now riding on a train through a city sunken under the clouds. I'm alive and well and this ain't Atlanta it's AtlantIS. Shadow geography flickering outside the window. A lost city crumbling under the depths of a forgotten history. I can see schools of ancient carniverous fish swimming alongside the hurtling Southbound, an armada of giant pirahnas maneuvering in and out of the Silhouette of bare trees; mutant phospherescent trilobites that drift down out of the fog and attach themselves to the roofs of cars - attempting to mate with SUVs and hatchbacks while dayglo jellyfish drift and migrate along the roofs of stripmalls.
When I arrive at my stop to make my connection I can see that their all dead. Drowned rush hour people- suits & uniforms, workers & students all drifting along to the same slow current through the stone columns of Lindbergh station- some of the fatter ones seem to have risen up like ballons and are caught in the rafters. Albino Sea-Worms nest,hatch and harvest in the open mouths and frozen screams of their new hosts. A spilt suitcase flutters neatly typed white pages around me, slow motion words of need and prospect. I see a man by the escalator in a deepsea diving suit reading the morning paper, impatiently looking down the tracks waiting for the NorthEast SubMartaMarine to arrive, he looks at his wrist and shakes his head slowly, brushing a baby Albino SeaWorm out of the Sports section.
I'm in the office now. Writing this instead of a thousand other things I should be doing. I call back the floods in my head, and the waters recede back into the fog and everything is just the way I left it and I chain up my secret eye in the backyard of my imagination, listening to it whimper and whine. So here I am back in the "Land Of Huh?", back in the "Kingdom of Whaaa...?" Where the locals worship and whoreship the great God
"Normal" - a tyrant diety unleashed by the occult powers of the mediocre and the boring, the secret Demon-King of burecrats,the vengeful god who sits on a throne of clocks, eating baby dreams for breakfast and shitting out money for it's followers to feed off. Yeah the great and horrible "Normal" makes both IHVH & Cthulu look like complete utter pussies!
But I'll escape one day.
I'll accidently type out the combination code and pick the lock on my paycheck prison, sabotage the merry-go-round justifications, step into my magick circle made out of lost action figures, plastic dinosaurs and pooh bear totem animals; I'll open up my graphic novel grimoires and speak the secret language of comic books: Unstable molecues, strange visitors, secret identities and superspeed! I will be my own resurrection and I will be a one man jury when I stand my judgement.
In the meantime. I gotta get back to work.
Shake it off boy! Fuck Eternal Recurrence, step off the loop, close the circuit and make it yours by making it different.
I'm now riding on a train through a city sunken under the clouds. I'm alive and well and this ain't Atlanta it's AtlantIS. Shadow geography flickering outside the window. A lost city crumbling under the depths of a forgotten history. I can see schools of ancient carniverous fish swimming alongside the hurtling Southbound, an armada of giant pirahnas maneuvering in and out of the Silhouette of bare trees; mutant phospherescent trilobites that drift down out of the fog and attach themselves to the roofs of cars - attempting to mate with SUVs and hatchbacks while dayglo jellyfish drift and migrate along the roofs of stripmalls.
When I arrive at my stop to make my connection I can see that their all dead. Drowned rush hour people- suits & uniforms, workers & students all drifting along to the same slow current through the stone columns of Lindbergh station- some of the fatter ones seem to have risen up like ballons and are caught in the rafters. Albino Sea-Worms nest,hatch and harvest in the open mouths and frozen screams of their new hosts. A spilt suitcase flutters neatly typed white pages around me, slow motion words of need and prospect. I see a man by the escalator in a deepsea diving suit reading the morning paper, impatiently looking down the tracks waiting for the NorthEast SubMartaMarine to arrive, he looks at his wrist and shakes his head slowly, brushing a baby Albino SeaWorm out of the Sports section.
I'm in the office now. Writing this instead of a thousand other things I should be doing. I call back the floods in my head, and the waters recede back into the fog and everything is just the way I left it and I chain up my secret eye in the backyard of my imagination, listening to it whimper and whine. So here I am back in the "Land Of Huh?", back in the "Kingdom of Whaaa...?" Where the locals worship and whoreship the great God
"Normal" - a tyrant diety unleashed by the occult powers of the mediocre and the boring, the secret Demon-King of burecrats,the vengeful god who sits on a throne of clocks, eating baby dreams for breakfast and shitting out money for it's followers to feed off. Yeah the great and horrible "Normal" makes both IHVH & Cthulu look like complete utter pussies!
But I'll escape one day.
I'll accidently type out the combination code and pick the lock on my paycheck prison, sabotage the merry-go-round justifications, step into my magick circle made out of lost action figures, plastic dinosaurs and pooh bear totem animals; I'll open up my graphic novel grimoires and speak the secret language of comic books: Unstable molecues, strange visitors, secret identities and superspeed! I will be my own resurrection and I will be a one man jury when I stand my judgement.
In the meantime. I gotta get back to work.