Saturday, October 14, 2006

Me and Andy Warhol...

(who could seem so insincere)

(and I, who
might seem so sincere...)

have at least one thing in common, which I know I have blogged about before:

we like(d) to listen to the same song over and over and over again,
ad ecstatiatum...

right now, for me (can't speak for th' dead dandy Warhol) it's Ralph Nielsen & the Chancellors' "Scream," which for me is the ultimate rock n' roll song, even beyond The Birthday Party or The Pixies...the pinnacle of pop pandemonium, a hurricane of shrapnelling reverb'd gitarzz & monster-movie yowls, overlaid w/ tailfinned shamanic incantations n' cascading avalanche-drums... [I don't want to endorse fee-free file transfer or anything, but I'd wager a Google search could find you a QT of "Scream" if you wanted it...]

and I'm listening to this as I read about nonlinear models of consciousness, as the ripples of guitar and drum pool, drift, pile up into chaotic cadences that threaten intellect...The Same Song Over n' Over is a way, after all, of creating one's own mental attractor, of organizing a hurricane eye around which new thoughts can swirl...

and I need new thoughts. as my thought-clouds tend, of late, to be dark and doomy ones, confused, affrighted--though "objectively" only sun shows on my life-sea...somehow I've taken minor, neurotic fears and cupped them and warmed them so, like the proverbial butterfly's wings beating in the Amazon, they've spawned a hurricane in East Podunk.

you wouldn't think a greasy proto-Goth number by Ralph Nielsen would do much to dispel the above mind-mists, but this musick blasts such gales of razor-twang n' sub-garage grunge that it's hard to take serious th' problems a mind reels out, when it's tethered for the nonce above flesh; when it's fleeing the light of faux-reason to the Heaven of an eternal Halloween; when the jungle river of Unconscious unspokenly betides a finnegans wake of possible futures...

Friday, October 6, 2006


Love someone, or something. Love him/her/it/they with all your passion. Fake it if you have to at first.

Love uncritically. Love intensely. Love all the time. Hear sappy songs on the radio as songs about your Beloved. Eat that ice cream and taste the Beloved's sweetness; feel that fall breeze as the Beloved's caress.

Translate pain into longing. You have to wait in a long line at the airport and you just so want to get on the plane. So make this: you so, so, so want him/her/it/they/whatever.

Say the Beloved's name. All the time.

You are allowed to love others besides the Beloved. But--see them as aspects of the Beloved. In their perfection see the pure and total perfection of the Beloved. Love intensely, love all the time.

When you dream the Beloved you are doing it right. When you hit your thumb with the hammer as you're driving a nail and your first thought is love, you are really doing it right.

Feel your love in your heart chakra. This is where the Beloved lives. Vibrate the Beloved's name there. Hit yourself lightly on the breastbone as you do this. See the Beloved in rainbows in puddles at the gas station.

Do this until your life has changed, until your world orbits the Beloved's star. Until nothing that mattered to you matters anymore except the Beloved. Do this until you can look in any mirror and see a being beauteous: the Beloved's Beloved.