Memorial Day in memoriam

whose guilt will call,
for justice to fall?

for brothers in arms,
embraced by war's harms;

slaves who have bled,
diamonds stained red.

for animals' skin,
now haute couture sin.

oceans' whispering breath,
screams of imminent death.

for those who resist
swastika'd communist.

Tibetan monk's chant,
red sickle has stamp't.

for The People's blind trust,
raped by dictator's lust.

Muslim pride shorn,
Jewish life torn....

for child's ray of smile,
perversion turned vile.

ideals who've fallen,
ill and forgotten.

for whom should bells toll,
if not for us all?

virtually on the verge of vomiting

virtually on the verge of vomiting, i push myself yet again, DJ's Sisma and Vekta driving me hard atop the range of the sliding decibel control, spinning their seduction, averting hallucination, inducing hallucination--for how else can i still be on this endlessly-moving carpet of vulcanized rubber passing under my beaten you-know-whats, at an indicated 8 miles-per-hour.


this, after having subjected myself to implements of torture painted an airy, aseptic white, corners coronated by stainless steel to prevent the corrosion-inducing sweat and tears shed during these BDSM sessions, while tied to ligatures of 1/4 inch 7 x 19 MIL-DTL-83420M cables terminated by 10-pound chunks of recycled slag, shaped ingot-like, potential energy tortuously converted to kinetic--energy is neither destroyed nor created (or is it mass?--although i feel as if my mass has been destroyed, mutilated...)


stop i do not. i keep control, avert nausea, meet and greet Limit, my old camarada, who like i has changed, become more inscrutable, prone to abrupt shifts in presence, mind, disposition.


"adios, tia. me voy, dejo tu abu-grhahib, tu house of pain, tu facility of torture, tu medieval dungeon, el discretely-mail-ordered-from-back-page-advert-in-almanac-format-photo-journal-of-alternative-sexually-arousing-practices-implement-of-pleasure-equipped suburban basement you habitate; i am in desperate need of a carbohydrate bolus."


as i make my way up the stairs, i turn, look down, weakly smile. i know, Limit knows, i will return. and i so wish she has her friend Enlightenment over for an as-as-always-too-brief visit.




virtva llyin the verg aknabac firnate ogiti hiyrbak if akterbauve

it's about life, and the push to death...

it's about reverence to the clawing of high priestess energy, as she demands tribute for her life-imbuing presence.

it's about acceptance of the loving chokehold of sorceress pain, search for respite from her merciless abandon.

it's about total devotion to reverend sister exhaustion, complete submission to the lashings of her breathless whip.

it's about humility, begging at the feet of reverend mother hunger, as she teasingly toys with my famished consciousness.

it's about discipline, enduring enchantress delirium's gentle wrath as she withdraws my fix of H, O, Na, K with a series of strokes to the delete key of life.

it's about my search for the elusive light that guides and inflames, frustrates, and dismays…for she toys with me, knows i will never reach her--i am no Buddha, Bodhisattva, or otherwise…i am not worthy despite the hopeless righteousness of my quest.

take me away

"trance me, light with no name," say i;
don't know you, yet seek you must i."

tranquil ending, live to reach you;
expiate woes, surrender to you.

travesty end, raw truth binds us;
allegory of hope, numbs us.

tragic my fate, certain am i.
timeless contentment, desire i.

trap me, gently worn blanket, you;
help me endure to adore you.

concept of time

concept of time, trails away 110 mph, i, 65 mph, it; push so hard, i can taste mouth exploding in array of conflicting stray currents of flavours. i feel imminent brain-O2 starvation, struggling to maintain perception, fighting 50-50-odds battle against total loss of consciousness. become resigned to win sheer-struggle-push, because necessary, challenge winnable, while lungs cycle, racing like positive displacement pumps, no impeller-vane loss, air that nurtures, restores, obliges, burns.

phosphene apparitions, halos of color, constellationed stars, pulsate and glow, confuse, expand. sweat secretes hot, moisture of life, now ice on skin that burns magnesium white, unstoppable, ignited by beats of sodium-exposed trigger. bodily functions, aiming to fail as push remains unstructured, ever-present, revolting, bringing memories to O2-deprived brain: first marathon, first challenge, different time, state of mind normally abnormal, abnormally normal.

no zest for pain today, endurance-test cramping. creeping sodium-potassium balance disturbed but not challenged: the wall, that infinite wall that, once crossed, offers view of non-1984 utopia, green as it must, as it should, yet transition to gray that even flawed, is beauty in decay, brick calcinated, mortar chewed by teeth of low-pH precipitation.

now, final putsch. one more try. no enlightenment today, can tell. too much ground, copper 36 inches down, path to earth, all faults, flashes of conscious unrest, synaptic cycles wasted, grounded, held captive a spirit escaping a body, tied with an eight-follow-through, which it wants to break, without luck, escape, for a second or two, in search of the light that it cannot describe, a light that it sees, does not cast but peace, a light that one sees through half-opened eyes, half starved demise, half dying mind.

battleground blood flows through miles of pipes, that tunnel through a 40-year-old infrastructure of love and disdain, guts and a brain...but not quite. how far will i go today? for how long will i hunt this elusive prey? will i fail to adhere to the concept of time, as a life turns eternal, and our deities, femtosecond-decay?

v1.0 filaments of keratin

one

happily, consciousness loosing.
externally, mind buzzing.
distantly, sound, retreating.
deeply, brainwaves affecting.

gently, tugging beginning.
fleetingly, weight retreating.
physically, down rolling.
soundlessly, slough falling.

regretfully, prattle encouraging.
unpleasantly, words flowing.
quietly, silence wishing.
unfortunately, you denying.

forcefully, time joining.
passively, peace demanding.
mechanically, you, performing,
biologically, i, needing.


two

respite.
a day in perspective.

brain waves—alpha,
on the rise, theta.

again you attempt to deny,
gregariousness, misplaced, i decry.

the stupor, the drone, the purple-blue lights.
lights that burn, disinfect, and detect if you lie.

stops abrupt, as a word you put,
i return, not of want but, of choice that you took.


three

finally i must

depart all this dust

the unlikely sounds

that relaxed my frown

to the point that my smile

misunderstood for a while

made you no longer shy

and my feelings die

like Buddha i was

enlightenment my task

like iron i wrought

trouble all that it brought

wild green onions

again, i had to. run. madly. impulsively. got to park. change. pee (not, tmi (1) there is a reason why i tell). ipod on. dj mazi: appropriate. trail head, smell of wild green onions. pungent, evoking, fresh, grassy. begin. slow. energy low. may have over trained last two weeks. maybe its soy milk+decaf+pumpkin seeds+pear+grapefruit (500 kcal (2))…maybe its 3.5 hours of sleep…maybe both? but, speed i do, post-warm-up.

mouth parched, gum notwithstanding. breath…could it be that my extra-long taste is…wild green onions? run, now downhill. pick up speed (why not?). no need to pace. mud desiccated. unfortunate. some wet; not enough in quantity/quality. must do cross-check: hr (3) 178 bpm (4), steady. slight pain: cramp onset. endurable. persevere. sore. will wild green onion liniment help?

run 60% complete. "urge." "urge," without basis: i peed already (i did say this was not tmi). what in hell?! not first time this happens. cringe. again? imaginary, interesting, prognosis: early onset incontinence. “well, txandi, there is nothing i can do for you. your symptoms are temporal, causal. they do not warrant medication. furthermore, do you want to add imipramine (if you can believe this, a tricyclic antidepressant to stop you from peeing?) to your daily non-rda (5) supplements, do you?" "you should look into something less….medical: wild green onion incontinence protective undergarments…"the brand that never stops...absorbing (tm).""

wild green onions. interesting fixation. permanent olfactory imprint, akin a pup to its bitch? am i destined to associate the smell of wild green onions to…the "urge?"

stats (6): 2 miles. 14 minutes, 45 seconds. heart rate: 178 bpm average, 185 maximum (generic rule of thumb: 220-age=maximum bpm).

(1) too much information

(2) kilocalories

(3) heart rate

(4) beats per minute

(5) recommended daily allowance

(6) statistics

energy potential ad infinitum

Yves Deruyter leads prayer.
inner peace burns like fire.
my mood, a live wire.
may now never expire.

i do not endure; this is no ill.
dare i ever inquest this thrill?
inhale, suffuse, degust at will,
or instead avoid getting my fill?

stigmata: my ears bleeding.
intensity, thunderous beating.
heresy! you accuse seething.
my body, my mind, time: meeting.

how else to convey,
what words cannot say.
feelings that i must obey,
or be swept by the fray.

chemistry peaking.
subduedness, meds preaching.
should i be weeping?
the end, incessantly creeping.

why should i fear?
of this, i feel dear.
yet, trouble lurks near,
that is painfully clear.

The rest all around,
do not make a sound.
Will my secret be found,
Or forever be bound?

Repose, reach me slowly.
my feelings, so holy;
crash, I fear, I will, strongly.
this fear, a figment? Imagined only?

Survival Mode

-00:47:00
Sit through meeting I declined but to which I was “re-invited.” Know its outcome beforehand; know it will devolve into what it does: commiseration.

-00:24:00
All agree on what has to be done, yet cannot do. I, operating on three hours of sleep, burst out the futility of the meeting.

-00:20:00
Leave room. Immediately regret. Print four copies of “sorry” note and place on attendees desks.

00:00:00
Hope I can rely on my [Jane’s-Addiction-]-“Ritual-[-de-lo-Habitual”] to cleanse myself through physical energy departing my body, my mitochondrion, doing their best to convert into ATP whatever glucose my bloodstream carries, so that my muscles can mindlessly but purposefully burn it. But I have so neglected myself as of late. Depress Start.

+00:08:00
I shut my eyes.

+00:16:00
In the middle of a DJ Shah mix these words fade over the pulsing:

“…It's touching life, it's touching life, it's touching, and it's touching life,
Imagine the silence of light,
Full of texture, full of color, starry lights,
As the moon suspended in the night,
See it, finally everything.

It's breathing life, it's breathing life, it's breathing life.
Looking through the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful, I want it.

Looking thorough the window glass,
I see a glimpse of heaven,
And it’s so beautiful,
That I want it inside of me,
Of me, of me, of me, of me. I want it.

As if on cue…

+00:17:00
…this is not happening. It has been so long….and I have longed to touch it—at least—enter it if I am worthy, deserving: the zone. I do. Briefly. Once, twice, thrice…

+00:20:00
In full automutilation mode; throb of music through my veins; eyes shut still; motion in balance, no degradation. I have kept balance while stepping as I have learned to do. Chug, once, twice. Return drinking vessel to its receptacle.

+00:30:00
Reverse direction, increase slope x 6. Reduce resistance x 2. I usually alter settings more often, but today is “special.”

+00:31:34
Shift speed as the beat transitions from one song to another, masterfully cross faded by Shah. An unfortunate glimpse reminds me I am still here. EFX display reads 175 Watts (2 x 60 W E26 Medium Edison Screw light bulbs, 1 x 40 W ceiling fan E26, and 1 x F25T12 Fluorescent lamp (I usually power 2x100 W flood lamps +/- a handful of E12 Candelabra-Screw nightlights).

+00:38:00
Have entered and exited the zone at least eight times for a total duration of one minute and a half. Not the zone core, not full consciousness/loss of consciousness of self, but satisfying nonetheless. I can feel it: my facial muscles have relaxed from a frown to an incipient smile. Been too long without it, longed for it so, have I. Do not believe myself to possess an addictive personality, but this is beyond addiction: this is biological need. Although I feel so, I still lapse, behavior shifting to the opposite extreme—total disregard for self.

+00:41:00
Hear myself think “nothing matters, nothing matters, nothing matters” at half the tempo of the music. Nothing else occupies my mind. This is it. Just my voice and silence. The zone. I am my own church. church, my religion I am. LaVey-Satanic as it sounds, I know this is more like what Buddhist chanting, the rosary prayer, the Allahu Akbar (Allah is Great) mantra accomplish.

+00:46:00
For crap’s sake! Eyes shut still, I depress Reset in error. EFX display flashes workout stats as I frantically attempt to restart. Opt for Quick Start. Litre bottle is now empty.

+01:04:00
EFX display reads 1.80 miles, 195 kcal, 18:00 Min, I think. Music has stopped too suddenly for me to transition coherently to reality. My Polar reads HR 154 BPM aver., 172 max. Interpolate for missing values and determine totals to be approximately 5.5 miles and 600 kcal. Respectable, considering.

+01:27:00
Walk to work in a smiley, happy daze. A tinge of plantar fasciitis awakens in my left foot. Pain will linger through the day, despite meds. Irrelevant; actually it is good to feel.

+01:42:00
Nipples are sore. Did not anticipate such long a session. Had I known, I would have worn poly instead of cotton.

+01:42:49
Ouch! Should cover them with Band-Aids (flashback - 7 years when I covered nipple piercing during physical exam—glad piercing was out + 3 years for an MRI!).

+02:00:00
Two litres of water later… no food. Pee very yellow. Feel life.

+02:50:00
Three bananas later, 800 mg Ibu., and half a litre of water more, I feel partially replenished, but am still peeing yellow. Must continue to push water through.

+03:23:00
Ibu. kicks in. Left plantar fascia ceases to bother. Feel the urge to run my favorite x-country trail later. No music this time, just the quiet, layered with my breath and remixed with my heartbeat…and if I am lucky a redrum track of percussive rain on leaves, resampled and looped with the sub-range neuronal electric activity thunder of my gustatory papillae signaling to my brain the saltiness of rain + sweat mix.

+03:30:00
Ravenously devour a slice of whole wheat bread. Rain falls lightly outside. Two more hours.

+03:42:00
Brita-filter another litre of fluoridated swill into my reused PETE bottle. Almost there, almost time.

+04:15:00
Pee is less yellow, still not clear enough. Chug more water. Take a sip of leftover cold decaf. Clean-up. GTG.

+05:00:00
Suck down the rest of the decaf. Go pee.

+5:30
b y e .

Equanimity

I feel so alive, but at the same time so vulnerable and maybe dead. I feel the loss of energy, the descent into demise--or what could be so. Yet I feel. The depth of the feeling, the awareness of self. Full, complete. Anything is possible here. Supernatural feats that defy imagination, not yet accomplished, not yet imagined. I do not know, for they are not imagined. I just know that I feel.
Hunger. Awareness. Body. Perception. Push. Challenge. Towards the unknown. I can now do more than I could before. In some respects, I feel better than I did before. Hunger the drive. Hunger that drives. The drive of hunger. A physical sensation. Energy saps, you feel, unmistakable feeling. No confusion whatever. Low blood sugar headache, brain trying to do its best to do its job. Energy drain. Motion reduced. Awareness. Consciousness.

Feats of incredible force, expenditure of incredible resources not supported by equal intake. One fourth driving one whole. Three hundred in 1500 hundred out. And the awareness, the know. The drive. Pushing toward that unknown. Eyes closed, balance in test, feats not easily accomplished. Eyes closed, world shut out. Nothing beyond. No noise, isolation. Beats pumping, ears drumming. And stalwart I proceed, unaware of outside, aware of inside. I do not question, I savor. I know.

This is not The Zone. I know what that is not knowing it fully. I have skirted it, toyed with it, briefly entered it. There is nothing like it. Fleeting for me; maybe less so some day. No. This is not The Zone. I linger here. I elate here, but not like there. I like it there like I like it here. I cannot compare, why should I dare? The Zone is one, this is two. Perhaps this is one, and the Zone is two. In any event, I enlighten. I relish. I feel. I live.