Ep. 012

she walked in here drifted. he was inpenetrable. she had casted his self, that limitless world projection, into a tiny round stone. a stone to bear the weight of the weather, all ancient wind and ice encircling it. found a way in the twin measures of solitude. of the sphere of excavation, the opening of the chasm. of the sphere of timelessness and the reality of time travel. eleven times the ratio rung. my black phone with the twisted chord. my dreams, holding a bodiless head, the dreams are too much. and leaving him with nothing to hold onto. she used to be on stage with the emeralds. the very best of us will be taken. time portals in soul music.

afterwards she had to re-enter the common sphere of pattern and repetition. only now agonie was bruised up black and blue on the inside. her thoughts were physically painful and emotions brought on malacious forces which beat her down. sometimes a thought brought on an electric shock, freezing her in time, which she could only get over by violently convulsing for a half-second. Other thoughts became that evil cosmic hand which pressed so firmly down like an eraser. only on strange occasion would a thought lift her up, and on these occasions her life force shewn so brilliantly that her aura became that of firefly, those faeries of the purple evening.

Ep. 012: Back to the Blue; Agonie's Return

Back to the Bitch, Back to the Blue; Dying is Easy, it's Embarassing too

well, life ended up just being what it is. a man, a sort of patriarch to Agonie, would often stress the importance of our plastic nature when she expressed the pain of her selfness. What you think you are is illusion, he'd say. the depression, the anxiety(for him, all emotional turmoil was lumped into these categories, a generational thing), it's not you, you don't need it, you can let go of it. Be very careful, he'd say, of thinking that you Are one way or another. for this reason he dispised Astrology, zodiacal thinking of any kind, personality tests, or any system of archetypal categorizing of people and their ways. Agonie wanted to ask him, has there ever been one single moment, in your entire life, when you have not been exactly what you are? And when you change, is that not the way those before you, who have been as you are, have changed? Are you not made of a million opposite personalities, each with their own desires and hatreds which either will or will not get as they desire? The real illusion, she might say to him, is your belief that you change yourself, that you have any control whatever over becoming what you think you want to be. It is written. I have seen the zodiac, that timeless sphere of wholeness, and all is written. you do not make decision. you are decided.

well, time sped up for Agonie, but that did not take her out of the bureaucratic world of the everyday. she had to deal with it, and she could not. the dream of her awakening, her ascension and fall, seemed too far away to have any impact. she was stuck in it, the absurd chaos of human mass-thought. a world that had nothing to do with her simultaneously was her, her entire world-projection.