did anyone else know that, yeah, the masculine manifestation of myself within the earth mother is named albert, the masculine manifestation of the earth mother within myself is named herteubise (after the dude in cocteau's orphee, natch), and they both live in a sort of natural-lit box made out of some sort of sandalwood within my throat? today i was tired and attempting to explain myself and my throat got all jammed up like it does sometimes with the blankness, and then suddenly i envisioned a lotus flower and i was able to express myself in language again. or it was more like the lotus vision just sort of popped up in my mind in the vicinity of the front of my neck. also since albert and herteubise have been introduced by said earth mother (who resides in my heart, unfurls in blue fire, and answers questions at the juncture of my spine and my brain), my tmj has lessened. and i see desire as two serpents twining together. while on bart. mmh, but the serpents are the manifestation of hecate, who lives within my head seed (chakra[?] in the middle-top of my skull), and isn't allowed to unfurl yet because i'm not ready for her...not to mention the dark twin, who's the one that lives in the seed in my uterus and unfurled as black and red fire about a week ago, and who i went down on in a vision about three weeks ago.
i'm grateful. but right now i HATE THIS. i'm not a visionary. i have no desire to be psychic.
if i'm anything, i'm just a desperate woman. i've always been desperate. i've always been looking, i guess, for a way to stop--or start--devouring myself. and i'll accept what's happening. because i know it'll save me eventually, both from what's in me and from what i am. and even if it were not to stop this self-devouring propensity, i'd still give in to it, because it's making my singing better...or because i desire self-immolation, it's imperative that i survive for as long as possible, and this option--of chakra-vision-whatnottery--is both self-immolating and life-sustaining. apparently.
i'm willing to pay in pain, but i guess what i'm getting at, solely, is that somehow this whole thing manages to hurt like a bitch. i don't want it to stop. though hopefully my desires to some extent cleave to the circumstances...if it were to stop, i hope i'd be able to want that. but it seems to be going strong, and i want this. and it hurts. and i hate it.
ha ha, i guess i am hecate. which is what they've been telling me from the beginning. hecate, by the way, is the principle of the rope. the dark twin is the root, and the earth mother is something like the tree as that which the root is the shadow of...and hecate is the rope, the twist of light and dark, pressed together in red. the press of which impels energy through the root and the tree.
yeah, it sounds okay, if a little airy-fairy, for the beginning of a poem, but this is my HEAD. how do i know this crap all of a sudden? why albert and herteubise? these beings agree that i can tattoo my wrists as a gesture of protection and invitation, and say on the left wrist should be a lion, and on the right a gardenia. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??? in order to finish a conversation with the earth mother, i draw my wrist to my chest and say her name three times. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN???
i know why i know. if i know anything. if these aren't all more simply the warning signs of imminent psychosis. i know these things because i need saving, i need help, and the only place i find it is inside myself...the only place anyone can find self-shattering, self-reformulating help is inside themselves, and this is the kind of help i need if i want to sing as i want to sing--if someone like me, with the problems and issues i have, wants to sing as i want to sing. in the final analysis, this...stuff does represent a practical if improbable solution to the problem of making my voice better, more whole, more mine and thereby not mine, a more perfect manifestation of the juncture that classical song really is: composer, performer, words, music, audience, self, body, soul...the moment that, because defined by so many oppositions, exists in something we think of as impossible: the moment in song, as i wish to deliver it, is the paradox, rather than being either one or the other of the possible things that define it. to make this moment i have to know more...i have to be stronger. so, again, i'm grateful.
i just can't freaking believe it's happening to me. i mean, both in the positive and negative senses, what did i ever do to deserve this? except need it, i guess. except my need.
just...rgh. WHATEVER.
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