| Author | Message | ||
     Des (Des) Username: Des Registered: 06-2008 Posted From: 86.166.188.81 |
} | ||
| Des (Des) Username: Des Registered: 06-2008 Posted From: 86.166.188.81 |
DIARY OF A 21st CENTURY DRUNK Entry One.... Dear Diary, I shall untangle knots by first tangling them into knots. It is a hard world I see. A hard world I hear and feel and smell and taste... taste the world – or in any drunk’s case drink it. Then: another sense, a sixth sense that is all the other senses in a Holy Unity as well as being separate itself within a Sextet of Senses: and that final sense is to live the world to its very dregs. To jump-start it into not just ‘living’ as an economic process but ‘life’ itself as a graspable object. I call myself a 21st Century Drunk to protect my name and reputation. So, yes, now, on that note, I am as anonymous as the day I first emerged from my mother’s sanctuary, before she named me with a name I had not chosen. Instead, I choose a name for myself or, rather, a proper descriptive label beyond the scope of any traditional name given to any of us at Baptism or Christening or other Religious rubber-stamping ... or by burning brand ... or mere legal registration. ‘A 21st Century Drunk’ in all but name. This is in turn called a diary. But it is not really a diary. Another misnomer that the diarist who gave me birth called me. It is really an account of a world in freefall from the point of view of someone who is also in freefall but not really a drunk that is drunk on drink in the ‘normal sense’. I am someone who lives between the lines of the writer’s words. A thing with a mission. Not an Oba-Ma. But that word Oba-Ma in itself seems as if a Manitou or other totemic beast lives again to stir this pot of syrupy text. I am a drunk, though. But drunk on words, not drink. Drunk on death. Drunk on dream. Drunk on despair. Drunk on description of all of these things. In this my ‘diary’, then (and make no mistake), I shall pull the word-strings, not any writer who claims to write them down from scratch ... and I shall do this to tease the limbs of any dark puppet that lurks within the heart of truth-fiction and, in essence, to make the juices of the ‘life’ economy flow again by revitalisation of despair. I shall over-dose upon the sense of living: upon a sense that becomes a drink impossible not to gulp down as it invisibly fills the air we breathe; making words ‘live’ rather than just ‘denote’ or, at more length, ‘describe’ ... by weaving the word-strings in ceremonious serendipity within a texture of many texts in a delightfully sinful syntax of togetherness by the very words eventually to be unstrung. I am no mere Oba-Ma, I promise you. Perhaps I am the Ooggee-Ooggee Man! In the second entry, this first knot will be untangled. | ||
| Des (Des) Username: Des Registered: 06-2008 Posted From: 86.166.188.81 |
Entry Two of 'Diary' here: http://weirdmonger.blog-city.com/entry_two.htm - I'll knot announce these links in future on this thread so if you're interested you need to keep your wits about you  but I doubt if they'll be kept up daily! | ||
| Des (Des) Username: Des Registered: 06-2008 Posted From: 86.166.188.81 |
The Pit and the Pessimum Ligottum Man-Oba ------------------ THE DIARY OF A 21st DRUNK This diary regarding a few days in January 2009 surrounding Obama's oath-taking & the credit crunch is now complete: Entry One: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=136537694&blogI D=466078745 Entry Two: http://weirdmonger.blog-city.com/entry_two.htm Entry Three: http://weirdmonger.blogspot.com/2009/01/man-oba.html Entry Four: http://weirdmonger.livejournal.com/109295.html Entry Five: http://www.ligotti.net/showthread.php?t=2526 Entry Six: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=145421249&blogI D=467220266 Entry Seven: http://weirdmonger.mindsay.com/the_knot_of_knots.mws Entry Eight: http://simplon.blogspirit.com/archive/2009/01/30/on-the-poe.html | ||
| Des (Des) Username: Des Registered: 06-2008 Posted From: 86.166.188.81 |
Derivatives After some heavy drinking, I fall easily into a sleep so deep that I remain unconscious of my dreams. To know you are dreaming when (on the face of it) you are not dreaming is inextricable from knowing that any period of sleep is a Variant Senility Disease (VSD) affecting us all, even when we are new-born babies or 'foetuses and beyond'. A single period of otherwise broken sleep – broken, for example, by prior over-indulgence – often allows you to glimpse the true nature of your condition from the vantage point of an observer who is independent of you, but an observer suffering from your VSD. So, after a day obsessively reading about the global banking crisis, I spend hours drowning my sorrows followed by an imperceptible slippage into further hours (in hindsight) watching abstractions that focus in and out of existence like the sporadically poor reception of a digital TV signal. The monstrous margins between each abstraction appear to be constructed from complex financial instruments of leverage and derivative in the form of spiky vegetation disguised as a hybrid of man-made barbed-wire and natural undergrowth. My memory of all this – a memory equally as complex in nature as the derivatives themselves – also contains dream images that keep joining and unjoining as they continue even into the very ‘forgetting processes’ that often follow full waking ... beyond the reach of any further breaking and mending that can be mistaken as waking ... accompanied not by the normal thumping headache eating you from within but by the prickly crown-of-thorns eating you from without. |