Monday, July 07, 2008

Trip Mckenzie and the Entropic Slaughterhouse

Sweaty waking to find a head aching from heat suffocation, hours wasted to find moments of rest for more of discomfort.
How am I going to do it today?
But I rise before the thought can follow into action. Never let the unease take shape and I might make it back to this evening sleep.

Shower piss and brush your teeth, knock back a litre of water, consider: bacon or cardboard cereal bran. Choose neither, run out the door. Earphones in ear, skip down the stair and out, we begin here.

That first step though, every time. A doozy for sure.

Foot gripping pavement but you fall right down anyways. And down. Nausea rising, you're drowning in it. Until resounding, you drop out smack crash into the void.

Energy is flat here I think. Nothing...

The thought un-forms as form tears us back to waking. An image whispers in my wake. She is feet planted, standing. Wearing blood coat all over, red and animal.

At once and tranquil, whispers and is gone.

"I'm thinking of giving up drink."
"I've been chasing self-destruction too hard."
"Can't you just moderate?"
"How would that not be worse?"
"Worse than self-destruction?"
"Worse. Moderation is to self-give up."
"How so?"
"What are you moderating? Yourself. Only ever yourself."

"I'm thinking of taking up drink."
"I've been chasing nothing too hard. I need to self-destruct."
"Now that makes fucking sense!"

The glass is empty. And the one before.
Of course I have nothing to show but compromised coordination. So I walk out the street, leave the noise and people behind. Alone in the night light, self image's failure dictates it is so damned cold here. In just one sheet, a belt and so well fitting jacket.

Tomorrow we work or go again.
Next week's the same.
This cycle, mundanity refined.

Close your eyes as you embark for home. Blank out and ignore the weekend revelry, broken glass and drunken hearts. Close your eyes and let chance supply you a detour. Blind step more than a few, perhaps you will find something new.

A long shortcut later, befuddled confused; you open them. (Good god the sky is blue.)

Out stretches the sea, at the island's edge, wild it is all you can handle. The wind whipped up, lash and sting, salt tears well and brim. Ducts overflow, torrential. Waters rising, shut them tight and drown again.

Floating, drifting colder than cold. This time I've popped into heat death. Energy is flat here, I think, lifeless. Half formed, I'm conscious, anomalous. Out of place unique.

Pop, the mathematical bubble bursts. I'm gone.

But an image whispered, impinged. My head is bleeding.

"My head is bleeding."
"I think I fell"
"I think I fell!"
"That explains it, my head is bleeding."
"No, my head is bleeding."
"You're telling me!"
"Telling who...
I think my head is bleeding."

The waterfall showers and runs away the blood which runs. And runs, with no end. Staining rocks, periodically, menstrually, they turn to red. 95% you sponge down and towel off the rest. Dry and clean for now, only the brain is throbbing. A dull reminder, but of what?

Sweep, cheap drop to your back, concussed, or was it the ring fist to the eye you gay foreign cunt? Did you spontaneously split, cleaved in two by over-thoughts. Spiral and obsession out of control, 1-way attrition eventually cracking your skull open unseen. An egg tooth for insanity.

Just a dull reminder now. Live with the pain, shut the hell up!


Bacon and eggs or cardboard cereal?
Declining both I go with coffee simpliciter. Black and strong (now that's brewed for 31). Stimulation can get me by, though should be seeking nutrition. Four stories up, window open, pouring thick fog into my apartment. Unable to see anymore, the door is lost. I jump straight out the window.

As I fall the thought occurs to me: "there is no fog out here". It is the crispest blue crystal blue morning. A perfect sapphire (of a day). A tray of dry ice sits just under my window, suffocating the room behind.

Pulling out of tuck somersault position I finish with flourish and flare. Yank hard my right arm down, left thrown straight as an arrow overhead. Tight and taut, a plank, I spin four times to gracelessly smash face first into the pavement out front. My window faced the back.

There is nothing there now. Unable to breath, the room inhaled itself, imploded, sucked into the fog. A great gape left behind.

A hole is nothingness though, impossible to leave behind. That no-thing it's a vacuum, that's just gotta be filled baby. The ice cloud drifts away, solidifies, dries out. Faster than the eye can see, I do see. It creeps up the walls of the short-lived abyss, freezing nothingness. Crystal climbing, repairing the world. It is blue. A perfect sapphire. But then green and red and every other colour more. It's fucking Krypton but I sure ain't Superman. With my broken limbs and mangled face. Tickling the back of my left ear with my right foot.

You don't want to know where my hand is...

I think my head is bleeding.
With blood in my eyes and dead to the world I see clear, the world drowning in my life. She is a vision. In red, blood coat all over. Standing serene out front. Feet planted a billion miles away, never in this place. She holds out a hand beckons to take.

With my good hand, still functioning, just, I accept.

Onomatopoeic cataclysm. Nuclear sunrise goes off in my brain. White sheets, searing. Her simulacra hit, rockets bombard, star light up and fry every synapse. Every thought, every moment, every memory melts together. My life runs river over my eyes.

The lights go out.
Energy is calm here I think.
Empty, undisturbed. I am conscious, anomalous. My existence, tranquil, perfect.
I can only last a moment.
The universe snaps its fingers, the void fills up.
I pop back. Pre-jacked.

Cracking snapping, I am put back together. Pulled afoot and aloft, blood washed away. Ripped dry from every vein and artery, every pore and cell. A bloodless husk, returned to life. A return to this make what will. Low entropy, what a joy, what a thrill. Take a seat, a ride on the here-we-go around. When it stops we fall apart, we all fall down.

"Why so angry?"
"That's the first thing you asked."
"All the people. That's the thing. I always ask."
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"You asked. Why are you so angry? I always ask, that's the first thing. That's the thing. All the people. Why are you so angry?"
"But what do we ask?"
"What do we ask of all the people?"

Ask the revelation. Where is this headed?
The universe swings anew. In and out pop the Boltzman brains. Gods, insusceptible to disturbance, contrary to logic and law. A statistical entity. Entropic probability breeds inevitability; atomic agglomeration, vast voids. In and out pour the Epicurean divine. Complexity arrives at consciousness, an existential loophole. Human achievement magnetized.

Ask the revelation, because I have yet to hear an answer. Human achievement magnetized, the void pulls on us and we reverse our polarity.

Upturned rocket trees, blast into the ground. Hiding obelisk chimneys, belching out the sky. Without exhaust fumes the sun would fall. I walk past it all, every day, 1am, every seeping sunrise.

The weight of all this matter, all of it so lawfully arranged bears down.
"An infinite gift!" cries Atlas.

"Rise Above.
Rise Above.
Rise Above!"

Screaming Prometheus.

"You never say anything about yourself."
"You hardly know me."
"I spend time in coffeehouses and fall in love with images. You still know nothing."
"You say nothing about yourself."

This is breaking down.
And falling apart. I told you so.
Didn't I?
The world is cracking, where are we going to be?

Alone I cry an ocean, enough to slake the world's thirst. They drink it all, 90% by volume, the human race in entirety wasted on my sadness, self-destruction. They piss it all out again, who has time for that?

Into the crack, desperate ambivalence to reduce the discordance that tears at this tiny world. Desperate for something new. The chasm is bottomless. Never to be filled. All their sense seeps away, into and under the bedrock, out the world. In answer, the chimneys belch out their noxion, poisoning every soul with its own filth.

Sink or swim.
Cherish and choke.
The engine grinds to a halt.
(John Galt)

I let go. Now here we go.
Every thought, every memory, every moment melts. I let myself drown in the causal floodwaters. One last time, my eyes see stars.

Cosmic crack and fizzle.
We bleed into the great void.
Everything is still here, tranquil.
Energy is at rest.
Probability has brought complexity, enough to cohere.
Nothingness. And us.

At once and tranquil. We whisper and the world is gone.
Blogged with the Flock Browser

No comments: