الأحد، 28 أغسطس، 2011

Lars and The Books

I like to think I have a Life...I have lost the best book; one I wrote in Rehab, I forget the year, but it was early summer, the garden was huge, with a smoking shed at the end, and a little fish pond...I was taking different types of drugs for different mental illnesses, and I added to those with some stuff magic, the round red pills got me hyper, and I added to that, wibbly woof, a Planet Jesus drug, and some little dark blue blocks called American LSD, or acid something...never touch the Dab-alien, a dark grey evil-looking powder...

So I began the first page of six hundred pages, tied together with string, which I got with the pads from a trip to the post office as I was collecting benefits there with the staff. 

The first page, was about Amorelia, it went from a description of a Choosh dog, which I first saw, in the corridor, my wife holding it's lead, it's an actual reptile shaped like a whippet, and very dangerous, that she had one on a lead, shocked me, that she lay on a bed, in the rehab conservatory (no sitting in the living room, no TV) like the image on my dark blue t-shirt, an image of a woman with long flowing hair, holding a sword, floating around her, shields wearing the Union Jack, faded through red, to orange to a green...the model....cool...it went from the description of the Choosh dog, to some kind of Burrough's like, ritual mourning...then, at the turn of page 2, became Jewish women, calling me as they were dying...where I guessed, in a camp somewhere in Germany...I would make a great journalist, I write as it happens, and I didn't give my self time to let in any type of emotion...

I was aware that lack of emotion was the most disgusting crime...the worse crime.

I wrote what she said when she got home, and carried on with my book.

There are two books, of around 300 pages each. The second book started with a story of two homosexual men, sitting in a garden, one of them spots a gang of gorillas, and chimps, and there are some sort of jokes in it, about invisible monkeys. But the second book got tainted...

I had extra books. I had a red thin hardback book, containing songs, the songs were in Punjabi, they were Holy Songs, for some reason I already knew that, Hindus Indian's, worship God by making and singing songs...It was a translation from the depths of the 1st book, and contained songs of Chariots, and Horses and Swords and Worship.

There were chapters, containing conversations with a Demon, whom I mistook for a girl, until I heard:

"Wear a Purple Bra...."

"You want me to wear a purple bra??? I'm writing the blood of David is dead....do you  really want me to get a bra???"

Lucky for me, the book was more important, than the serpent sex, so I stayed at the desk...I had a little room, with a chair and a desk, I stood a little out of the window, with a foot resting on the roof, perched on the window sill, at night, to smoke roll-ups from butts of roll ups, from the butts of roll ups...Once, when I crept out into the garden, late a tonight, I saw, a river full of reads, and the most frightening hairy orange arms, reaching into the water...a Neanderthal, I expected, or, "that thing...." and I dreamed about the little baby on the basket, floating along the hallway, on the end of my long robes...

I wrote down the lyrics of the songs PJ Harvey was working, in the dark,big scribbles and little mashed up words:


"The Wave Winds are Billowing!!!"

After her lyrics; I wrote about a man watching a concerto of violins...

Next thing I know, I'm on top of a cliff, with King Gray, in Emelbert, in the last war, watching for the dragons demons flying towards us...We are just about to die, and he tells me he loves me, I say I love you too, I die grotesquely, I am burnt to a crisp by a dragon flame...: "Only her feet left..."

Next, I'm wearing muffles over my ears, with a roll-up in my teeth, in the snow...I'm disguised as a boy, and I'm in a Russian Gulag in Siberia...I work there...And the only Russian I know is "Dah..." Then I'm found somewhere by Russian soldiers, discussing Americans, The Americans are God, are you God...are you good...don't care about Americans, no good...then a Jewish man, watching us says he will take me away and marry me, before anything bad happens....

Then the worse book. The second book, was becoming total Hell, not in the way I wrote it, but in what colours it made, and what;

Was being read between the lines....

Start on the story of the Choosh, and pick a special language, use the pen above the writing to pick up each word...and glowing, new, white words appear...

The first language I chose was Aramaic, because of Adalia. It involved the word Sedition, I didn't know what that word meant...Then Greek, then Chinese, some Japan...a lot of annoying Japan,:

I am a star! I drive the car!! I go far!!! The car is a star!!


And so on for some pages....

The Arabic was amazing to me. The Book and the Sword!! it began...The thief holds a dagger, he holds a book....


Kurt Cobain got involved


So many stories were coming to me, so quickly and with little of my own thought....


Molly and Ben and Eloise. Something off-key form the other books, a saga about three people in one couple, and that never stopped, I could always go back to the story of this threesome, if I was a little lost for words, of the naughty Ben who visits Priests, and then makes love on the beach, sings and defies, always wondering whether I am put-upon Eloise, if Polly is Molly...Molly is the bitch...Molly is out of order....

There was the Story of Our Little Sister...

"What shall we do for her??? Silver Palaces or Cedar???

WHAT do we do when she gets into the car, with the knife or the fork....

The book shone like the moonlight outside one night, and I heard many voices, women's voices,, I turned towards the window, still at the desk, as the words I had just written, actually danced in swirls in the air, and spelt;

I Love You...

"This is Elf Language!!!"

It was late so I went to sleep, I went to sleep...

Everything is dirty after that.

The second book, began to shine dull disgusting colours, a dead silver, a deep yellow, a black grey, a lime green, a dull red...the stories were all in the same vein, though I stayed away from translating this one....

I had no idea why this book had got so tainted, because I don't think I had shown it to anyone...

Anyway, that's all about why I'm trying to write in this blog, and rediscover some of the stories...

I'm tired...

السبت، 20 أغسطس، 2011

The Lizard

the mental health care worker, also the one I see as the house-keeper said:

"You know what!!" Put her in the bloody temple, "Thou Who Doth Defy!!"

She has a man at home, who recently became obsessed, with "the devil, I'm getting sick of it, he is always watching the god-channel, and talking about the redemption, he wasn't like this when we first met, and it doesn't stop..."

I hate this woman so much, she used give me palpitations, if my room wasn't clean enough;

"Right, you know what!! You're going back to the hospital!!"

It was so terrifying I shut the door to her, and was in shock for some days, the days after forming a plan, hiding when she was around, and avoiding her presence as much as possible...

...it involved praying for my life.

One day, when she came to check up on me, I managed to get her to shake considerably, because she got an invisible powerful shock... so much so, that she jumped back as I opened the door and wailed "OHHH! OHHH!" As she had no idea how to stop it, she stood looking at her feet in front of my open door, crying "Oh! Oh!" she stood shaking extremely energetically in front my quickly closing door and exclaimed "OH! OH!"

"That's it! I'm putting you in the fire!!"

I wanted to put a form of ghost in front of the door every time she appeared, but no ghost, no angel, was willing to help...still I shook, and still now, I ask who is working what shift, when, so that I can erratically clean my room from time to time if it is her, as for the other times i don't know why I'm messy...as for her jokes, damnation. I find it incorrigible to hear English Jokes...

(note I've been reading Conan Doyle, The Lost World, and The Poison Belt, for the big words influence, in the last few posts, but here, on blogs I make no effort to actually do any kind of 'proper' writing...)
---

---
I shared some milk at the fridge with the: "Satan who hath Fire..."

The other man, referred to always as a boy, likes crying out ;

"JAH!! Selassie is the form of God himself!! JAH, Jah..."

As he also likes to talk about sex, some of his singular exclamations apart from things like ;

"Elephant Man!!" when he see's 'the Satan that has Fire';

or "Ronald McDonald!!", when he passes me, have become:

"Evil -Doer, Fornicator!"

---

The Blind Mice, and The Lizard With the Flaring Tongue

There was a little mouse, with a rather larger than normal head, zooming back and forth, out and behind a flower pot...I spoke to the mouse, and discussed the Emelbert-ian evolution of the Rat to the air around me.

"You Mouse, are a little thing waiting to bite me, your mind is gross, you have a terrible hair, you have dusty feet, you have a grotesque soul, bought from the enlightened...you pity me for being bought...you sail through blood drinking and delight in Hell...you were made. by...me."

The computer keeps turning itself off...back later.

EmelBert:  (Bert-meaning=Planet)

'The Happy People' were once grotesque in manner and function, their minds of a mixture of pharoahic laws and the basest Satanic influence from humans in the development of their thought, a small soul, open to anything that came through, their look was three feet tall, with variations, lime green mixed to lemon white, almost transparent skin, thin membranes, large heads containing considered, minute brains, long, forked tongues of various length, a voice hissing and curling, they developed a mind-voice, twinkling in a monotonous background sound of fuzz, tails or no tails, stumps of tails, tails of various shapes and length, writhing evil long tails...

The Happy People greeted the Emelbertians, the rat-people; in the first quarter of their human-like development, long after, their shapes and sizes had been almost fixed, at the stage of being introduced, to a soul...it was a dark shrine, under the ground in the giant nests, of branches and moss, they came from different planets, perhaps different galaxies, different universes, I can see the position of  these planets when I look up into the night sky. Planet Jesus glows dark blue, Emelbert is as lost as Hell, a star surrounded by a haloe of dull dead white, yellow, hot red, and deep black.

Yes, Emelbert is like Death in it's people's eyes, thick deep black un-seeing eyes, that hide where they look so it looks like they cant see anything, but they are able to see through the darkest places, they watch you with no emotion. Where the Happy People had become pharoahic, was a surprise. They had been thrown into the puddle, and left like that...tiny and many.

Someone had introduced the concept of a Temple, to both species. The men who did this were Earth-men. Inside the underground tunnel I could see, through a window in the wall of my room, the squat extremely hairy Rats, stood four feet tall, and fat, huge fat bellies, behind a table, they had a manner of all chattering and whining and screeching together when one of them started to talk, it was a language...it was a dead soul-less electronic-sounding speech.

What I assumed was Cups of blood, stood on the table, the rats beckoned the lizards; the Happy People. It was a ritual of welcome. It was a dead.

It was dead. Everyone of them had the aura, not of death,

but of dead.

My first idea, was to set fire to the whole place. Abominations, Evil Doers.

I had met the Emelberts before at a much higher level of evolution. King Gray said, something memorable: "We've been through some knocks, but hopefully, we're back to snogs..."

I am now going to investigate what was left out.

The Fire raged, then the poor things began to squeak.

Those eyes were like jumping black beads, trying to fight their way away from the rest of the face.. The Happy People came down the stairs. There was an aura of evil in the tunnel, as the window first opened.

Nothing has come here to explain.

الخميس، 11 أغسطس، 2011

The Wedding



I'm actually excitedly waiting for my sketchbook to arrive from the back of a taxi, instead of spending much time on the computer, actually doing nothing, reading what i always read, and playing what I always play, the 'death' has lifted, and I've not so much noticed, but 'noted down' that I have a sort of small smile playing around my lips, I'm not hiding inside some tiny room waiting for the hell downstairs to leave...I like watching the rain through the doors, it isn't always weeping,  and I'm spinning on a new leather chair, sunshine has lost the fiery ball in the sky, and I don't boil over in what was said, and I don't get the piffs, and everything that shouldn't be said has remained silent...

 I have some kind of monster I'm trying to corrupt, in pen, in watercolour, in oil...to be part of a painting inspired by all the Turner's, and the Constables (Hadleigh Castle where I've been many times, though I've never seen it look so wild, as he cut through all the surrounding fields, to add in the Thames River, and now the ruin sits on regularly mowed lawns, this was painted around the time his wife died, and it is also wild, the colours are gloomy, and the clouds are thick and and dark, dirty and wild, and the Van Holst's (Goethe's Faust, the favourite one, sorry, Gerter, not, Go eff)...I like the depth of the green background that melts into the fairy's face...Turner paints the worse kind of figures, he has a mighty Hercules (I forget quite who) in the middle of a storm, waving two bendy sausage arms, with a fat blobby figure...all his figures are fat blobs, all I have to do is work out how to paint an immense amount of oil paint layers for the sky, and what detail to put into figures, and what damned historical type of story...I've been introduced to another German Royalty called Herkommer, which I must research for grandad...I've shown two friends, a picture I stood in once, Absalom's Tomb in the Kidron Valley, the goats have gone, I think the top has fallen off the tomb, and now it's surrounded by gravestones...I have to be a little more transfixed by the evil face of the Man Who Taught Blake How to Paint...best to avoid even looking at the thing...

 I'm drawing images; from images I see in shadows, in the worls of woodwork, in dirty splatters on walls, on myopic faraway details, on spillages, on messy paints on walls...and I keep finding monsters...a dog like dragon standing on a pig like beast...a 'sky monster' like a huge bat with scaly skin and many wings...I want the Constable clouds, and the Turner landscapes, cliffs in the corners...made up buildings, G. Moreau's figures...some 'fairy blobs with snaky bodies and human heads' which appeared on the dried milk running down my mirror...

Now I forget why I am smiling.

Perhaps I should write here what was said.

I hate to listen most times, and this time I'm being assured that not listening isn't all that bad. I've gone to them clearer and wiser. And this time I like hearing them, instead of the worrying them.

Well, I'm going to put a little sketch up here of my dog monster...

I heard don't worry about a thing, "You are welcome to Higher Heaven...." "You have Eternal Life..."

الأربعاء، 3 أغسطس، 2011

God

I called God once. I went all the way through voices in Heaven. I've called quite a few times, I hear women, my friends, my family...all up in Heaven...most of the day, I'm in miracles, coloured lights, that are speech and each colour signifies emotion and soul...and usually it makes me weep, sometimes I'm well enough to talk to the kids, most times I use the madness to tell them I think I'm in Satan, then I shake and weep...but at the moment this:

I have a record I bought some years ago. It's heavy metal, 'an old school' type of record, songs about Thor, men with battle-axes going to war, wolves, mountains etc. Ozzy guests sings on one of the tracks.

I had completely forgotten that the first time I played this record, I had called God...I wanted something with a bite to play, my CD player hadn't been working well with any Cd's I put on, but this time, it managed to work, without showing up the error sign...I sat with my book on my knee, when track 6 lit up on the player, and stared at the red number,

Track 6 began as a garble, and continued un-intelligibly all the way through, it squeaked, it destroyed any type of instrument, it flashed forward, jumping, and squealing, faster, and faster, some of the noise went upwards, all of it scrambled, no vocals, like a strange language, I would have to think over and try to translate.

I guessed that it was God's speech, God, with a type of brain that can think at astonishing speeds, and that has thousands of thoughts at once...a type of computer mind, bringing out lists of numbers which make words, and control everything in the universe.

I'm sure, track 6 only does this on my copy of the record.

I jumped to the first thing, i could think of to hear, a deep wrathfull man's voice said:

"You will never become Law."

I quietly began to die a little, because I've entered Law, in Islam and in Jewish stuff, and that is mostly a correct observation, in that I don't effectually have any religious law...then I decided, No, this can't be God.

I went for a short walk, to buy soup and chocolate, the soup for my preparation for Ramadan which began August 1st...I listened to the record as I walked...there was another voice, it was a lighter girls' voice, it was sweeter, the words were sweeter, it was my 'japanese girl' the voice of my own personal Boddhisatva...I chose a woman's voice, because I would love that more than I could a wrathfull man...God is sweeter, than any type of Law, the Law is different, holier, wiser, easier...I repeated the sentences, one I remember only and most of was:

"Do not be afraid of going to War..."

I remember more, right now, and I will write them down:

"I will fight in soul, we will become One..."

and in the scramble of track 6:


"Sought me, Sought me, sought me...."

---

I began Ramadan in a flash, all alone, I looked up the date and saw a picture of soup and dates, I went out and bought them...I woke up a 5 in the morning August the 1st, and bowed, I said a little of Al-Ikhlas...I bowed again, wanting to talk, I saw dark green, black and blue, I left the room, without listening, I don't listen, and I'm rather sick of it, the plan had been to be completely alone, and think of nothing while I drank soup, also to taste dried dates which wasn't an appetising thought, I put three on my plate for afters, and nibbled through just one which eventually tasted quite nice...I tidied up half of my room, the next day and found my Salah, my four previous prayers were now; null and void. I washed my face and snorted water up my nose, which felt tickly and made me laugh...washed my arms, left the water dripping freely to dry...read through the complete ritual of prayer...it was a long list of long sayings to repeat in just one sitting...

I picked a corner of the room, and stood with my hands next to my ears, said:


"Allahu Akhbar!"

I said: Protect me from Satan!" ("I've been in a lot of Satan...")

Went through; Al Fatihah quietly, with hands over my belly, swore once, over a long list of other sayings...then stood bending over, unable to get my head to line up with my knees, then;  prostrated, looked at the book in my right hand, from the floor, and said:

"Sabhannna Rabbayil A'laa..." this is to be said three times, got confused about where to put my left foot (under the thigh) and realised I hadn't bowed on my toes...stood up again and did that properly...and then very quickly, gave up and turned round on the floor, to go back to the other book I was reading...

That was at Asr, and that was the only time I prayed that day, I was in a car at seven...and then grumpy at night-time...something about being at Mum's meant obeying mum's Law, especially, obeying, by eating duck and hoison pancakes at 8 o'clock, and chocolate at night...it's nearly Asr, again, and I don't want to, because I've kicked myself down again...despite deciding to actually go through my own Adhan...

Which I've let 'out of the bag' now...and maybe that's affecting something...