.A Grimoire of Madness.
Feel so sluggish right now, but it was another one of those nights. Rekindling friendhip with someone of my past that was a good friend even through the bad patches. Mike was an old roomie in the more light-hearted and equally chaotic times of the Pittock House [-sigh- House of Shadows. .how I miss you, and strangely. .hope your foundation crumbles into a sink hole in Jewburg.] Met him at the tech school I was attending at the time and we hit if off right of the bat. How couldn't two stoners agree better when the first words you're asked are "So...." -look left, look right- "you smoke?"
Heh.. he's funny.
Work brought him into the area and we had a classic blaze up night and caught up on our adventures thus far. I have to say he's one of the key influences of my move. "Just hop on a Greyhound and it solves everything." He's definitely an enigmatic creature in the idea of travel. Just up and disappear for a bit to random places and see where it leads you.
Ah well. .it was fun. Heedy indulgences and my older times of existentialism through a haze of bong smoke. [Yes I know. .it's from Swordfish, such a beautiful mindfuck movie, and one of the bangworthy moments that Travolta has in a film for both mind and looks.]
Told him I was writing my book, some other ideas lurking in my head. It's a humbling comfort to get praise from those who actually mean something to you. I've gotten it so many times recently and in a way it's the gradual healing of a less-than-supporting self-esteem that I have. If it were any darker it could eclipse the sun. I'll break the cycle, slowly but greater steps into my own personal transcendance from this hellish coil and ratrace.
Anyway.. the first snippet of the book for your reading pleasure or disgust. At this point I don't give a fuck what the opinion is. What I know is... I feel whole when there's nothing but the blank canvas before me and the chance, the sheer taste of the Muses hanging from my tongue, pencil, or mind.
A Grimoire of Madness
Existentialism Through the Eyes of a Gemini
Amanda Nicole McClowry
________________________________________________________________________________
† Prologue †
To those who have been my strength from within, because I
truly would be nothing without.
Mema, for the guidance you gave and the one glimmer in the dark that there is some kind of God who listens.
Mom, from one Gemini to another. .may this close the gap.
Stan, for the love of a Father you gave when I had none.
Crystal, for the love we shared as one, may this be the memories that will live on.
And finally..
Bettina, for being there in those long nights. My companion, my friend, my Sister.
I love you all.
________________________________________________________________________________
can you see me
i can see you
i am the embodiment of nothing
and everything at once
i'm the phantom in the night
and your conscience
whispering in your ear
who am i?
i'm part of you. . .
________________________________________________________________________________
Tumbling Down the Rabbit Hole
'. .why in the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream, mother-goose, Alice-in-Wonderland fable,
only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull
responsibility in life?'
- Sylvia Plath
Every story has a beginning. There are your classic fairy tale ones, the dastardly evil ones where putrescence just oozes from the very start and corrupts your soul. Then.. there's the ones that from the moment you pick it up, you know things are forfeit and you've been pulled into something beyond your comprehension. But why the morbid curiosity? Maybe... just maybe.. there's things in this world that can't be explained by the experts, by your standard "in the box" society and what is unexplained is left to the supposed mundane world and it's denizens.
We as a society hold a twisted kinship together, through some strange working of environment and surroundings, both manmade and the raw primal forces that existed before us by whatever means of creation came about. As Chief Seattle had said we are part of the web of life. One thing affects another. If a gossamar strand of the web is pulled in one place, there is an adverse or at least similar reaction along the line. In some abstract theory it's comparable to the butterfly effect. Now shall come the moment of truth: shall I become the puppeteer pulling the invisible strings of the psyche? Questions are abound, my friends.
To quote Sylvia Plath. .'Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise.' So here it stands, the testament to the ages and the wild and crazy adventure I have taken through the world. My short, yet extensive adventures from within and their repercussions on the exterior by interaction. Introversion and personal exploration of the self, and the answers granted by the Muses and those who have played an integral part of my life. I have been set upon the wheel of ages and have broken the bonds of 'dull responsibility,' for if it is dull to expand the mind, then put me back on the shelf with the others to collect dust and rust with the coming of the ages.
Welcome to my Wonderland. .
________________________________________________________________________________
Welcome Madness, Say Hello
'I'm so sorry, please forgive me, who do I pray to, to straighten out this problem. Straighten out this problem,
straighten out my mind. Straighten out this crooked tongue.. crooked tongue. My mind has wandered from
the straight and narrow, my mind has wandered from the flock you see. My mind has wandered, the man just
said so. My mind has wandered, I heard it on TV. And the flock has wandered away from me..'
Oingo Boingo - Insanity
Reality to some is the definition of what the world is - everyday existance in a mundane form, a one-dimensional playing field that is the matrix. A seemingly endless cycle of coding, constructed by our movements, our actions and reactions, thought and conscious will. But what happens when you step outside of that box? When you rationalize, break away from the chains of conformity and step into your own reality? No guidance, no hierarchal status or form of control. Only sheer will of the mind.. something that is a force to be reckoned with; wild and uninhibited, unrestrained and perpetually going until the ends of time. That is reality. What we bend and shape it to be, our own design. We are the puppeteers pulling the strings. .rather than dance that macabre nightmare that others wish us to. .So in the celebrated idea of that. .here unfolds my mind into a visual playing field, by written word, conscious thought, and still frames of the mind by art. We travel far from the conscious strain of morality and reason, to dance upon the fine line. You might know which one I speak of. My path is the treacherous one - the breathswidth line that resides between divine genius and divine insanity. Such a simple hairline fracture between two sharply contrasting notons and planes of thought where reason is garnered not by doctrined scholars of the past or present, but.. the age-old sage that is within us all: the mind. I walk the line, whether I am truly blessed or mad well. .you'll be the one to judge through these passages, maybe even find a piece of 'home' within the madness. Remember this query though, traveler, if there is concrete agreement.. is it madness, conscious thought and a 'Hivemind' if you will, or the pull of the web? I'll let you decide..
I think that's enough for the moment to post. .I can't give everything away just yet.
I remember one last thing Mike asked me concerning it.. "I get a copy, right?"
Those tho are involved in this Grimoire.. yes. I'm sure you know who you are when you read the snippets. Be prepared for my raw manuscripts. Think of it not only as perhaps my thank you for all the things I could never repay you for in the past.. and the wisdom you've shared in making me who I am. My mind at work in written word and the art that filters from my fingers.
Adieu for now, Poppets.
Heh.. he's funny.
Work brought him into the area and we had a classic blaze up night and caught up on our adventures thus far. I have to say he's one of the key influences of my move. "Just hop on a Greyhound and it solves everything." He's definitely an enigmatic creature in the idea of travel. Just up and disappear for a bit to random places and see where it leads you.
Ah well. .it was fun. Heedy indulgences and my older times of existentialism through a haze of bong smoke. [Yes I know. .it's from Swordfish, such a beautiful mindfuck movie, and one of the bangworthy moments that Travolta has in a film for both mind and looks.]
Told him I was writing my book, some other ideas lurking in my head. It's a humbling comfort to get praise from those who actually mean something to you. I've gotten it so many times recently and in a way it's the gradual healing of a less-than-supporting self-esteem that I have. If it were any darker it could eclipse the sun. I'll break the cycle, slowly but greater steps into my own personal transcendance from this hellish coil and ratrace.
Anyway.. the first snippet of the book for your reading pleasure or disgust. At this point I don't give a fuck what the opinion is. What I know is... I feel whole when there's nothing but the blank canvas before me and the chance, the sheer taste of the Muses hanging from my tongue, pencil, or mind.
A Grimoire of Madness
Existentialism Through the Eyes of a Gemini
Amanda Nicole McClowry
________________________________________________________________________________
† Prologue †
To those who have been my strength from within, because I
truly would be nothing without.
Mema, for the guidance you gave and the one glimmer in the dark that there is some kind of God who listens.
Mom, from one Gemini to another. .may this close the gap.
Stan, for the love of a Father you gave when I had none.
Crystal, for the love we shared as one, may this be the memories that will live on.
And finally..
Bettina, for being there in those long nights. My companion, my friend, my Sister.
I love you all.
________________________________________________________________________________
can you see me
i can see you
i am the embodiment of nothing
and everything at once
i'm the phantom in the night
and your conscience
whispering in your ear
who am i?
i'm part of you. . .
________________________________________________________________________________
Tumbling Down the Rabbit Hole
'. .why in the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream, mother-goose, Alice-in-Wonderland fable,
only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull
responsibility in life?'
- Sylvia Plath
Every story has a beginning. There are your classic fairy tale ones, the dastardly evil ones where putrescence just oozes from the very start and corrupts your soul. Then.. there's the ones that from the moment you pick it up, you know things are forfeit and you've been pulled into something beyond your comprehension. But why the morbid curiosity? Maybe... just maybe.. there's things in this world that can't be explained by the experts, by your standard "in the box" society and what is unexplained is left to the supposed mundane world and it's denizens.
We as a society hold a twisted kinship together, through some strange working of environment and surroundings, both manmade and the raw primal forces that existed before us by whatever means of creation came about. As Chief Seattle had said we are part of the web of life. One thing affects another. If a gossamar strand of the web is pulled in one place, there is an adverse or at least similar reaction along the line. In some abstract theory it's comparable to the butterfly effect. Now shall come the moment of truth: shall I become the puppeteer pulling the invisible strings of the psyche? Questions are abound, my friends.
To quote Sylvia Plath. .'Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise.' So here it stands, the testament to the ages and the wild and crazy adventure I have taken through the world. My short, yet extensive adventures from within and their repercussions on the exterior by interaction. Introversion and personal exploration of the self, and the answers granted by the Muses and those who have played an integral part of my life. I have been set upon the wheel of ages and have broken the bonds of 'dull responsibility,' for if it is dull to expand the mind, then put me back on the shelf with the others to collect dust and rust with the coming of the ages.
Welcome to my Wonderland. .
________________________________________________________________________________
Welcome Madness, Say Hello
'I'm so sorry, please forgive me, who do I pray to, to straighten out this problem. Straighten out this problem,
straighten out my mind. Straighten out this crooked tongue.. crooked tongue. My mind has wandered from
the straight and narrow, my mind has wandered from the flock you see. My mind has wandered, the man just
said so. My mind has wandered, I heard it on TV. And the flock has wandered away from me..'
Oingo Boingo - Insanity
Reality to some is the definition of what the world is - everyday existance in a mundane form, a one-dimensional playing field that is the matrix. A seemingly endless cycle of coding, constructed by our movements, our actions and reactions, thought and conscious will. But what happens when you step outside of that box? When you rationalize, break away from the chains of conformity and step into your own reality? No guidance, no hierarchal status or form of control. Only sheer will of the mind.. something that is a force to be reckoned with; wild and uninhibited, unrestrained and perpetually going until the ends of time. That is reality. What we bend and shape it to be, our own design. We are the puppeteers pulling the strings. .rather than dance that macabre nightmare that others wish us to. .So in the celebrated idea of that. .here unfolds my mind into a visual playing field, by written word, conscious thought, and still frames of the mind by art. We travel far from the conscious strain of morality and reason, to dance upon the fine line. You might know which one I speak of. My path is the treacherous one - the breathswidth line that resides between divine genius and divine insanity. Such a simple hairline fracture between two sharply contrasting notons and planes of thought where reason is garnered not by doctrined scholars of the past or present, but.. the age-old sage that is within us all: the mind. I walk the line, whether I am truly blessed or mad well. .you'll be the one to judge through these passages, maybe even find a piece of 'home' within the madness. Remember this query though, traveler, if there is concrete agreement.. is it madness, conscious thought and a 'Hivemind' if you will, or the pull of the web? I'll let you decide..
I think that's enough for the moment to post. .I can't give everything away just yet.
I remember one last thing Mike asked me concerning it.. "I get a copy, right?"
Those tho are involved in this Grimoire.. yes. I'm sure you know who you are when you read the snippets. Be prepared for my raw manuscripts. Think of it not only as perhaps my thank you for all the things I could never repay you for in the past.. and the wisdom you've shared in making me who I am. My mind at work in written word and the art that filters from my fingers.
Adieu for now, Poppets.