Scrap Yard
Ep. 013: Delia's Diary
little delia sat like a crow. she had watched the crows. their heads were never in movement, they were always in a state of having moved. their big dumb circle eyes. the equanimity of their glances, nothing making a greater impression than anything else. everyday delia woke up feeling dead.
cold today. dreams of child soldiers on the western plains. eating charred meat of aged horses, picking out spindly little bones. an old tv sitting there in the field playing an old timey movie. expecting 8 or 9 other young soldiers to come over the hill. see the black outlines of their bodies on the horizon. thousands of them. charred little bodies.
distance brings us together after a time. letting go of my lover. handsome am i in my little depressions. two days a dying light, endless flight, death tonight.
now the night comes and i'm supposed to have more to say. everything we do is paradox. all the world is built from opposites. all progression comes of the friction of opposing forces. as time hurtles unstopably towards its destiny with the momentum of the entire universe we waddle about and are confused. everything only where it is. nothing ever where it is not.
none of what we said was to be taken by it's true meaning. even the purest honesty is translated into the basest vanity. but somehow by an uncausal miracle, we communicate. we commune. somehow i will be near this primordial, and yet futuristic and elven, creature of the wet green earth. we see eachother because we exist in the future. together we long for the satiation of the evolved sapien. the erosapien. i will touch you, sweet creature, i will love you.
our wisdom is expressed in what we choose not to say. there will be no saving the world. there will be a collection of individuals saving themselves. let us touch one another. let us rise like water. let us be moved by the Lady Lun. once i was sure the universe held no secrets, that there was only the simplicity of truth. it is a gift. open up your palms and the creator says to you, this is a gift. i made this for you. do you like it? yes, this world is full of secrets. nobody has them and they've never been written. find them. trust that you will be provided for, even if that provision is death. go searching. follow the river upstream, through the endless valley. return home, find yourself unchanged, find yourself seeing only suffering, crave death. think of death often. worship death if you feel that way. if the bible said one true thing it is that it's foolish to worship idols. don't make an idol out of anything. put nothing on a pedestal. be bored senseless by humanity and it's talk of what's going on. prophesy the future. don't play the fool. be the fool. come out on top. always trust that you are the most priviledged, luckiest fool on this wet green earth. do what you have to. fail, every day, to do what you have to do. never take language for granted. speak with precision and virtue. speak horrible things. do not trust home. home is where you were before you were conceived, home is where you will return, but this will be a deranged valley of discomfort and manic undulation. I speak for myself.
