Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Trip Mckenzie and the unbearable heat.

I think my face just slip right off the bone. I'm sure if I could see the growing puddle of molten skin on the floor in front of me I would feel quite sick. Luckily this isn't going to be a problem though; given that my eyes seem to have melted right out of their sockets too.

I guess this is going to brings its own share of problems, but for now I have to say I am quite grateful to not be thowing up all over the shop.

It's a pretty rough time of year for the river right now. Sure thing it gets to feel warm and kind for once, but really the river could happily do without this vague and passing feeling of fuzzy goodness if it did not have to suffer the greater indignities of summer. An increase in boats cutting through tis water and playing havoc with its painstakingly well-crafted currents; these idiots have no idea of appreciation of the artistry and pride that a good river puts into its cureents and its fluidity. No! They barge, unwanted into all places, with ridiculous metal and wooden tubs, drinking, shouting, acting like they are kings and queens of the river and destroying what they don't even see. Kings and queens...the river is noone's man.

Don't even start on the swimmers, stinking dry scrapy solid land skins. Give a river a duck anyday.

Worst of all though is not the people. Evaporation, thats the killer. I mean... just imagine half your body disappearing every time the sun comes out for a few days in a row.

No sir. A river's time of year is winter, cold, hard, violent and wild. Now that's a good water life.

The dancer faints on her feet and falls on her face. On stage, in front of 5000 people. The crowd are inspired more than they have ever been. The dancer, muscles fot and pliable as butter in this heat has been fortunate enough to fall into the otherwise impossibly controred shape of universal and absolute greatness, the sign of the pinnacle of reality. Bless this heat, the dancer should think.

Maybe when she wakes up.

I close my eyes, I fal asleep. 300 years later I wake up, summer is over and a new ice-age is starting. This could be interesting I start to hink. Right before a plar bear rips my face off with its massive paws and a reborn sabre-toothed tiger crushes my right leg in its mighty jaw.

Ah wel, if I'd hung around any longer I would only have complained about the cold and the poor company.


Thursday, July 06, 2006

Trip Mckenzie and a brief thesis of shattering.

My hand is shattered half as much as the door I put it through. The door is shattered a fraction of the amount my mind shatters every day. My mind is shattered an infitesimal degree of the extent to which reality is shattered into tiny particles, quarks, magnetopoles and whatever else we imagine to explain it all. Reality is shattered in nothing like the manner in which conceptuality is shattered, between an infinity of clashing, colliding, complementary and contradictory ideas, realities, oblivions, limbo's voids, gods, irealities and whatever else we can conceive of for no reason whatsoever other than because we can.




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Trip Mckenzie and a brief thesis of shattering.

My hand is shattered half as much as the door I put it through. The door is shattered a fraction of the amount my mind shatters every day. My mind is shattered an infitesimal degree of the extent to which reality is shattered into tiny particles, quarks, magnetopoles and whatever else we imagine to explain it all. Reality is shattered in nothing like the manner in which conceptuality is shattered, between an infinity of clashing, colliding, complementary and contradictory ideas, realities, oblivions, limbo's voids, gods, irealities and whatever else we can conceive of for no reason whatsoever other than because we can.




Saturday, July 01, 2006

Trip Mckenzie and the origin.

It all started with a child named Simon. Intelligent, aware and with everything provided that he might wish for,  Simon was a child with the world ahead of him. Life was simple, obvious and the future offered nothing but potential and new opportunity. Innocent and enthusiastic Simon threw himself into his young life, working hard and keenly, never a doubt, never a worry.

He grew older, something snapped. Somewhere deep in a once innocent mind darkness began to surface. Let me make this point clear - there was no obvious catalyst for the emergence of this new aspect to the boy. His family was happy and supportive, life's necessities were never a worry at this point he even had some friends. Yet it came anyway, with no basis or motivation something in the boy's mind changed, innocence was lost and in its place crouched addiction, destruction and fear. This new way of being put the boy at odds with his peers; this new doubt and questioning of the world around him, the lack of faith that this empty social world that people were growing into had any value to it, these things distanced and alienated him. I know that this sounds arrogant and contemptuous of those others and certainly to a degree it is, yet at the same time they were doing what children and teenagers should be doing. Experiencing what was given to them, making mistakes; for sure this is often done these days led by foolishness, empty desire and sometimes even malevolence but the carefree pursuit of new experience is what youth is about.


Simon grew into a man, new friends and the embrace of absurd spontaneity allowed him to keep the destroyer at bay and for a time he flourished. No longer did the child push and stretch, but still the young adult did enough, kept to what he thought had been the path all along. Of course this may well have been the greatest mistake. Better in some ways to crumble and crash and eventually rebuild and begin again with new fire and raw purpose than to blindly subsist along the wrong path. According to some standards the young adult Simon could be seen to be flourishing and achieving, according to his own pointlessly high standards nothing was achieved. This was the mistake in the path, to set standards, his own or someone elses, high or low. By doing so Simon allowed himself to be diverted and distracted from what had once been amongst his greatest talents which was the unqeustioning pursuit of nothing but what seemed right.

And then the darkness rose up at last, the path was engulfed what light was left was extinguished; for the first time Simon was truly lost. Neither the innocence and purpose within him, nor the path of society could be found. All that there was was darkness and questions. No truth, no illusion, no perception... nothing. Simon was lost and Simon fell.

Jacob stood up to a stark emptiness. A road stretching to infinity in either direction, not a landmark in sight; dust and destruction. Lost and alone, nothing to follow, no train to jump aboard, no car to hitchhike within Jacob did something new to his existence. He walked. And he thought.

A million questions occured to him, ten billion theories flew through his head. With nothing else to occupy him Jacob could not help but obsess over each and every one. Round and around in his head with no release in sight, the structure of his mind began to fall apart. under the constant abrasion. Spirals and cycles, addiction was the name of this game. Never letting go, never releasing, never moving on. Jacob saw that something was wrong with him, saw something wrong around him, but all he could do in reply was answer the question and guess the answer. Every answer was perfect, ingenious, complex and complete. None was satisfactory, none felt like the truth. Yet Jacob could not discard a single one; nothing could dislodge a thought or a theory apart from a new and more unhinged theory. Once again it was nothing external that plagued Jacob, as with Simon before, but now the darkness had a his soul trapped in a maze and his internal compass was shattered. Jacob span, whirled and wheeled wildly, with no sense and no control. He glimpsed the Fazz, he touched upon the Ireal, one time he dreamt of Kingsville. Then just as it seemed Jake's wild ride would never end and that he would remain disorientated and lost by default for ever more the string broke. Centrifugal, centripedal or whatever other force  it is grew too great, his mass multiplied a million times and he flew free, careening off wildly into whatever direction destiny aimed him. Freedom or failure, he could hardly tell.

Jacob flew wildly through space and mind until his freefall was forcefully and abruptly halted by the impeccable solidity of an island. Jacob lost conciousness and in his place Trip awoke. Simon had been a fatalist, Jacob the questioner, Trip... Trip was an explorer. On that island Trip learnt to seek adventure, experience. He learnt the value of belief and faith in oneself over all else. The beauty and virtue of arrogance, the necessity of confidence. Trip hardly had the answer or the weapon to push back the darkness. He empowered the same demons to shred his soul. But now he vowed to find that weapon, to discover the answer, find again the innocence. The one true guide, himself, oneself yourself. Self.

The compass is still broken, Simon is still there, Jacob is still there. The goal is never to banish them, the goal is to return to the original and in innocence combine all of the self. To venture to explore to discover.