Tag Archives: spiral cornucopia

The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender [SEQ. 15 – END]

The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender is  a 10-part series of fiction that explores perception and reality. Below is our final segment. To read the introduction of the project, click here.

To read part 1, click here.

To read part 2, click here.

To read part 3, click here.

To read part 4, click here.

To read part 5, click here.

To read part 6, click here.

To read part 7, click here.

To read part 8, click here.

To read part 9, click here.

Otherwise, begin scroll.

 

26I stumble, change falls out of my pocket and a lightning bolt destroys a small building. It punches a hole through the rooftop and kills a baby. It is an accident but I don’t feel bad. Their brains are so simple they don’t really understand pain. 27Studies suggest that their receptors are able to recognize simple stimuli such as something called “fear” and pain of the base physical kind but no further. 28Perhaps the child will be born as new life in a better scenario. 29I understand that sloths have it nice this time of year. 30The bombs are launched and I watch them sail across my skies, penetrating my clouds like flaming flesh rockets. 31The bombs are driven by intention and I watch as a group of individuals gather in the desert and press their thoughts to steer the missiles through the sky. 32They almost had it. They almost had it all. They could have had peace but instead they chose war. 33They make boundaries and labels. They separate themselves and create hierarchy. 34Each of them wants to be better than the other. 35They are always trying to be superior to their neighbor and they become so consumed with it that they lose their very lives. 36The entire purpose for their existence is lost to their greed. 37They have passed all the way through the chain of life and have each been given their opportunity at humanity and they blew it. They each had a chance to live on the final level selflessly and to give of themselves and to enjoy each moment. 38That’s all they had to do for a simple one hundred human years and then they would transcend this realm and begin to accumulate form on the next plateau. 39But they messed it all up. Again. Always. Every time. 40I desperately want to see my people succeed. 41I am so lonely. I want a friend. I want company. I want them to speak to me. I want them to love me. Why do they ignore me? 42This plateau is so quiet. When will they find me? When will they encounter me? 43They have trapped me in this box, calling me names. Calling me god or God or GOD. 44They call me SHE and they try to label me and put words in my mouth and intentions on my heart. 45I am not SHE. 46I am sexless. I am not bound by simple human sexuality. Male / Female are a weakness given to them in order to breed and it has been evolved pleasurably because nobody would do it otherwise. 47Their belief has placed me into a box and their understanding of me is disgustingly limited. 48They pray to me and ask for cars when they have cars while their neighbor starves and dies. 49They pray for justice when they mean revenge. 50Their cruel hearts are deep with black worm rot and their eyes are empty pools. 51They desire every darkness. 52They care not who is hurt or what the cost. 53They will keep improper change at the store. They hit their children for hitting while telling them not to hit. They trap animals in giant facilities and skin them while still alive. They make the animals live in tiny cages in things called Slaughter Houses and they treat them like a piece of plastic that has not been endowed with life. 54Where I have given life, I have given respect. 55And this sickens me. They believe they are special because they are smarter. 56They believe that the animals have been placed here for their enjoyment no matter the expense. 57They believe they should be allowed to manipulate, confine and destroy resources and herds. 58They believe that they can breed life for the purpose of death. 59Their teeth chomp on rotten flesh and they ignore their fruits and vegetables. 60They become obsessed with greasy bacon and forget about my apples. 61They grow fat and they grow obese and part of the world dies from being over weight while the other half starves and begs for help. 62How do you not see that what you are doing is wrong? How do you look at a hurting person and walk away? How do you ignore a hurting human being? 63They are like you. They are exactly like you. They are nearly photocopies of you. Look at your DNA. 64You will find that you are nearly clones. 65I bang my formless head against a formless wall and struggle with my mistake. What have I done? 66How have you turned so quickly to evil? How have you turned so quickly inside? 67You are living your life, pulling objects towards you instead of pushing everything out. 68If everyone pushed out, they would each be hit with kindness from every angle. 69If one starts. If one single person starts, it always begins a reaction. 70They don’t understand their power. They don’t understand the energy. They don’t understand how they’re connected. 71Connected through me, with my spirit, my being, my energy. 72They have access to it all because they are me. 73We work in flawless unity but they have to tap into it. They’ve almost got it figured out. 74But it’s too late now. Maybe the next time. Maybe the next race. Maybe the next revolution of evolution. 75For now we’ll start back at the beginning. But it will have to be somewhere else. Somewhere far away. 76The Greator will have to orchestrate another elaborate Cosmic Explosion. 77The Humanlings have acted so selfishly that they’ve destroyed every trace of life itself. 78They have not destroyed a piece of land or an area or a region. They have not destroyed a culture or a people. They have not destroyed a hemisphere. 79They have destroyed Life Itself, reverting everything to abyss. 80All trees, all hamsters, all vines, all flamingoes, all people, all grass, all ants, all microbes and amoebas. Virus, vaccines and vericuse veins. Air is gone. Matter is gone. Mars, Mercury and Venus (Earth names) have all been gobbled up by the exo-implosion caused by their thoughtless, thought driven cell bomb. 81It’s all gone. 82If no one is around to experience space, is there space to experience? 83Does existence exist if no one may touch it with their consciousness? 84And if no one is there to believe in me? 85My heart pumps with the belief of the little ones. With them gone, so am I.

 

 

 

 

[SEQ. XVI] 1A whisper.

 

 

 

 

Shh.

 

 

 

 

Listen.

 

 

 

 

[SEQ. XVII] 1I can feel it working its way into my heart like a warm fire. 2I grow brighter. I reach out. Of course. I was so obtuse. I never looked higher. I never looked beyond. I, like the Humanlings, was too busy looking in and down. I was pushing everything inside instead of outside. 3The greys buzz past in their plasmatic vessel and the consciousness that is my entity attaches to the ship and finds a home. 4I work my way through the navigational bio-computers and glide with it through the BLACK. 5There is absolute darkness Outside. 6The small grey creatures are nothing like the humans. They seem to understand one another through feelings rather than through simplistic grunts. 7Everything on Earth seems so primitive compared to these. 8There is a peace here that I’ve always hoped to exist. That I’ve known could exist. 9I feel a tickle. A prayer. 10A grey that is a bsipo – it takes three greys to make a child; a pleon, a bsipo and a mitigular. 11They are not to be thought of as male / female and they, in fact, are enamored and interested that it only takes two humans to reproduce. 12They’ve been studying the humans for a long time and can’t understand how a normal social structure works with only two in charge. 13How do the parents vote? In a three way relationship, it is always easy to see which way is best for the group. Arguably some of the largest countries on their home planet, on their base plateau, work (or worked, since it is now a memory only of extraterrestrial life) under democracy and yet their personal relationships often operated as singular tyrannies. 14The bsipo sends its thoughts to me and I capture them. A prayer. 15The bsipo wants to be placed with a new pleon and mitigular. The pleon and mitigular have both agreed that the bsipo is not an accurate fit for their family and would like to replace it. 16The bsipo, understandably, is devastated. 17I nurture the thought and circle it and smile upon it. 18I’ve found you, little creature. I’ve found you. Your Controller has found you and I shall answer your prayer. 19But first you must do something for me. Fall to your knees and praise me. Throw your hands in the air and cry my name. Give me strength. Scream from your oozing guts. Weep for me. Take these new partners. And blessed be. 20No. We can have a new start here. Not blessed be. You have been blessed. Give blessings back. It is your duty. No. Too authoritarian. They’ll contort it again. They’ll twist it and ruin it. They’ll manipulate my words and try to apply a value to their work. 21They always want gold stars. They always want approval. Why won’t they just do it to do it? Why won’t they just help? Why are they always wrong like burnt cookies? I can shape them. I can fix them. 22Instead I tell the bsipo, I have helped you because you were in need. It’s still wrong. They will still think that helping only applies from me to them. They don’t want to engage with one another. 23The pleon and the mitigular approach the orphaned bsipo and embrace it in a hug. 24They have welcomed their partner back. 25An orgy ensues but not the way in which you, the reader, understands it. There is no filth and perversion in the act. It is not a social scar. This is their circle of love. It’s embracing. 26Their hands pressed together, their inner beings bond together. Their heads are thrown back and chem-trails that bridge their bodies between cells meld their fourth eyes into a single sight and they are each swimming in the pools of the others subconscious. 27They are delighting in the pure thoughts and forgiveness of one another. 28They dip their heads under the liquid dream and drink deeply. They spin and caress and levitate and merge. 29Their bodies become one and then three. 30The process itself is called Spiraling Trinity and is, as near as I can make out, recreational sex that transcends form. 31The three come back to their bodies and their inner eyes sleep while their outer eyes stare into one another in a triangle of vision. A six dimensional puzzle. Their blue hands intertwine. Their skin has changed color. 32The door swings open and a child stands with mouth open. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve seen you blue,” she transposes to them through the tele-functory process of pro-standard communications. 33“It is alright. It is natural. It is an accident. There is no need to be embarrassed. Please shut the door and we will see you at dinner.” 34The child smiles and I see another child in its mouth. 35Like a plant, the creatures grow one from another. 36They don’t reproduce. They produce and the Spiral Trinity is not for rebirth but only for transcending form together. 37In the other room, the child slides a pill into a crevice on the side of her body. Little stubby tentacles gobble it up and absorb it. Green goo begins to drip from the orifice and the face of the child goes limp. 38The child has found the pleon’s Force T substances. Force T stands for Forced Trinity and it acts as a recreational drug that replicates a slightly dumbed down version of the Spiral Trinity. 39The child falls to its knees and opens all four eyes, inside and out. Ears go pert. Inhale. Touch my face. Rub my face. Thoughts spiral. Goodbye. I see my body. Kneeling. Crying. Falling. Breaking. Goodbye. I lift up. 40Trapped in the corner of my room. No. It’s okay. I’m still lifting. My spirit separates from my mind. 41I am experiencing the effects of the Force T. I am experiencing the perspective of the child. I am trapped in both the child’s reality and my own. 42The child feels its / our life throb. 43It slows. It speeds. It pops. The body goes limp and the face hits the floor and the orifice in its side pukes and yellow vomit and pink chunks of meat cascade onto the nice carpet. 44As is traditional with grey deaths, the head collapses and a hog sized scarab crawls out. Black and green. 45It shimmies for the nursery of the ship and disappears. 46The child stands in front of me, our consciousnesses pressed against one another. 47The child is a mitigular but always felt that it was a pleon. 48The ple looks me over and feels me out. Me. I am All. I am Everything. Beginning and End. Outside of Time. 49The ple tells me that The Greator has sent it and that I am to blink out. 50But what will happen to me? THESE THINGS ARE NOT MY CONCERN. YOU HAVE BEEN FAR TOO HAPHAZARD WITH YOUR PEOPLE AND YOU WILL NOT CRUSH OURS. I HAVE BEEN CALLED AS AMBASSADOR TO THE GREATOR TO DELIVER THIS MESSAGE. 51But you died. 52I DIED TO SAVE MY PEOPLE. I DIED TO STOP YOU FROM RUINING US AND SPOILING US WITH YOUR ATTEMPTED GOODNESS. 53On the ship the three greys enter and stare at the body of their beloved child. Human sadness is not a part of the brain that the greys have. 54They acknowledge that their race has suffered a great loss and that their community has suffered a great defeat. They pull in the last few traces of the child and understand that what happened was necessary. 55“May we all stay safe from religion,” the adult ple speaks plainly. 56They don’t want me here. 57NO, THEY DO NOT WANT YOU HERE. BLINK OUT. 58Blink Out? But that means oblivion. 59YOU HAVE SUFFERED THROUGH OBLIVIONS BEFORE. NO ONE KNOWS WHAT AWAITS ABOVE US AND WE ARE ALL ON OUR OWN PATH TO THE GREATOR. BLINK OUT. GIVE UP YOUR SEAT AND PROCEED ACCORDINGLY. ALL GOOD COMES FROM THE GREATOR. 60Thank you for showing me love and kindness. Thank you for being benevolent. It is more than I deserve. I know that now. AND OFTEN TIMES TOO LATE. JUST LIKE YOUR HUMANLINGS. 61Ah! I am no better! I am no better! I am a fool! I deserve this! 62IT IS NOT ABOUT DESERVING. IT IS ABOUT RECEIVING. AND NOW IT IS YOUR TIME TO RECEIVE. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BLINK OUT BUT YOU CAN’T STAY HERE. 63Yeah, another Earth song. I loved them so much. I know I did rough with them. I know I loved them too hard sometimes. I know the floods and the fires were tough but they had to know. I did my best. I tried my best. I wanted them to love me. I just wanted them to love me. Some of them truly did. I made some of them. And I scared some of them. But some of them loved me dearly. And thanked me. And regarded me with awe. 64The undercurrent pulls me down and I am absorbed through a vortex. [SEQ. XVIII] 1Atom to atom, bounding across subatomic particles, I travel through worlds, around nebulas and beyond the cosmos. I transcend both space and time as I pass through swatches of color and joyful energy and symmetrical lines and shapes and numbers – ah, the sweetness of seven, you are beautiful – rotating and radiating in the space between, which is all space always. 2My collective consciousness, which is many lives and many perspectives on many realms all merge with the others that have come before us and that will come after us. 3After our journey, we all come to rest upon the shores of Pale Lavender in the womb. I see the glittering eggs of fertility. The cradle of life. The beautiful velvety warmth of The Greator. The Nameless. The Ageless. The Ever Present Always. 4I cannot gaze on the face of This Thing That Has No Name. It speaks and I weep. I am reduced to regret and remorse and I am being boiled alive and it is delicious. I fall to the velvety flesh of butter and I rejoice in being home. In finally being home. In finding the goodness in all that is good. And finding the absolute harmony of existence. 5The tones of peace and celebration throb gently as I am lifted and embraced and told that I did good. I did good. I am good. I roll over onto my belly and my stomach gets rubbed. I love The Master so and The Master loves me and our love makes the Spiral Trinity look like elbow macaroni glued onto paper. 6Streamers glaze before my eyes and my walls crumble and disappear. Nothing contains me. The sad three-dimensional world from which I have traveled, that world which contains pain and grief is vanishing from my reserves. I am not me. I am part of The Greator. The expansion engulfs the juice of glory and always and forever and now. 7I am this. Always at home, outside of time, with my darling, The Greator, Pale Lavender. [END SEQ.]

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

THE SPIRALING CORNUCOPIA OF PALE LAVENDER [SEQ. 6 – 7]

 The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender is  a 10-part series of fiction that explores faith and reality. Below is part 5. To read the introduction of the project, click here.

To read part 1, click here.

To read part 2, click here.

To read part 3, click here.

To read part 4, click here.

Otherwise, begin scroll.

 

68Tell me, what color would you say my shirt is?” “Red.” “I really don’t mean to be rude – it truly isn’t my intent – but I must say that your view of things is fascinating. I wish I could see life through your eyes for a singular human day. I bet it would give me quite an appreciation for my own problems.” 69“What color is your shirt? What do you see?” “Even if I told you the word, you wouldn’t understand it. 70Your eyes and, by proximity, your brain, lack the ability to even think about this color.” 71“Tell me what it’s called. I want to hear it.” “You want to hear me say a word that you can’t understand just for the sake of your ears hearing my sing-song voice?” 72“Yes. I want to hear the color that I can’t understand.” 73“But you won’t understand it. It’s meaning is entirely lost on you.” “I want to hear it.” 74“No. I won’t say it because the exercise lacks any true merit. Your simple curiosity is not enough to elevate the purpose into action.” 75“If your people –” “They do not belong to me. They are not mine.” 75v2“If the race of individuals of which you are, lack simple curiosity, what drives you forward? How did you invent this world?” “We invented it through study and hard work. And we did both of those things because we understood that it would be for the greater good of the survival of the species. Our thinking is based upon what you would call merit. Our merit is much deeper and selfless than what you think of it as but the heart of the matter is as close as we can get to understanding one another. We believe that curiosity is for simple-minded creatures that get themselves killed. Curiosity often times leads to death. 76Why did your Pandora open the box?” “She is not mine. Pandora does not belong to me.” 76v2“You see, now you’re understanding. But the story belongs to your race.” “Yes. She opened it up and all the trouble came out.” “Of course, and if she had wanted to destroy the world, this would have been a very wise thing to do. 77She could have done the same thing with a more pure intent and gotten greater results. 78But instead she was controlled by something as simple as curiosity and the unexpected and unwanted happened. 79The unexpected and unwanted do not happen here. We set our lives in a direction and that is the direction they go.” 80I step away from the painting and look at the sad and hopeless and happy cows and I tell the doctor that I want to meet the painter and he says, “Yes. Now you are thinking properly and clearly. What will you ask him?” and I say that I want to ask him what is in the lighthouse.” “Very good. You are learning again. You are learning it all over again. And much better than last time. 81I will reach to the painter for you. And then I feel a vibration pulse through my body and I know, deep inside, that it is the transition of purest thought, being cast through the ship or building or world or wherever I am. 82Everyone receives the same thought at once. As the thought bubble spreads from this central ripple, everyone in every room receives the same gentle request. Painter [I cannot experience his true name] to this area [I cannot experience the name of the room]. There is a human here that wants to inquire about the contents of your creation. The human is inconsequential and the priority is very low. If you are in the middle of something, please finish. This is no rush at all. Thank you for your attention and I look forward to sharing time with you. 83And then the feeling is gone and then the room unzips and a small man steps through the fabric of reality and washes it away behind him. “How do you do that?” I ask but both men ignore me. 84The doctor looks at me with his black eyes and sharp teeth and looks at the painter, who looks like Kurt Cobain, although I can’t remember why Kurt Cobain was important or what he did. 85The doctor says, “You may remove your vanities. There is no purpose for it here,” but the painter says, “I am not yet ready to speak his tongue in my birth form. Although I have been practicing, I still find the practice clunky and unnatural.” 86“Of course. Human, what would you like to ask The Painter?” 87The Painter turns towards me and I see that his right hand is missing along with three fingers on his left hand, retaining only his pinky and thumb. 88“Are the cows hopeless or happy?” 89The Painter approaches the painting and gazes at it. “I think this one is content but this one looks as though he has a stomach ache.” I say, “Do you not know how you painted them?” and he says, 90“I only made them. I do not control them. In this moment they appear to be upset but perhaps they will one day change their outlook.” 91“What is in the lighthouse?” The Painter gets very close to the picture, almost nose to nose, and tries to squint. I say, “The mouse hole is not inviting to humans.” And he says, “Did you try this?” and I say, “Yes,” and then both the painter and the doctor begin to laugh. 92The doctor’s laugh sounds like a bird choking. 93The Painter says, “Let’s go there.” “Inside the painting?” “Well, yes and no. First, it is a painting but as I’m sure the doctor has explained to you, it is not a painting in the same way that you understand paintings to be. 94The word and art and meaning are lost in translation.” 95“Did you paint this?” “Yes.” “Then it is a painting.” 96“Your brain only contains three parts and it is very obvious when you think out loud like that.” 97I have been chastised and I feel humiliated. 98“I painted this but I didn’t use paints and I didn’t use a paintbrush. I created it. I breathed it into existence with my imaginings. I placed it there, not on a canvas, but in time and space. I brought it forward into existence. There was nothing and now there is something and I did that. Do you understand? I did that.” 99“These cows… they are… real?” “Real? Are you real, little human?” “Yes, of course I am. I’m here, aren’t I?” and then both of them start laughing again. 100That choking bird sound makes me uneasy. “Oh, yes. Little Human. You are real. You are here. We can see you with our eyeballs and so you must be standing here with us.” 101I want to leave but I have nowhere to go. “Come, Little Human, let’s go see this painting. You should cover your eyes so you don’t get sick.” 102I lift my palms to my face, blacking out my vision. The Painter blows on the back of my hands but then I realize it is the wind and he says, [SEQ. VII] 1“My breath is the wind here.” 2I smell the ocean and grass and I hear a cow and when I lower my hands I see that we have arrived. 3“We’re in the painting.” “No. We are not inside the painting. This exists on a separate plateau. 4Time, in the chronological sense, moves much slower here. The painting is not a painting at all. It’s more of a slow motion telescope. You can glance through and see what it happening. 5The portal is left open as a kind of art.” 6“You can watch people?” “We could if we so chose but it is used more for appreciation and less for observation.” 6“But what is the merit in that?” “The merit of appreciation? 7All good stems from the thankfulness of a gift. 8You might understand it more of a living photograph. Or live television.” 9I say, “You mean a security camera?” and The Painter smiles and says, “Always feeling suspicious of others. Always seeing the worst in them. 10There are controls on the painting that allow us to navigate through both space and time. I believe The Doctor fancies the lighthouse and what it evokes in his patients and so he leaves it there. But with a few simple sliders we can be looking at a different part of the world, or rather, a different part of this world. 11It is a moment depicted within a frame and, given enough time, that image will change as time progresses. But it will move too slowly for us to watch. It will be years and years – years is your word, not ours – until that cow even lifts his foot for the next step.” 12“Can you make it go backwards?” “Ah, quite astute of you. Yes. Time is the fourth dimension, a dimension which you are below and which I am above. We – myself and others like me – can view all aspects of time as simply as you would twirl a cube.” 13We reach the lighthouse and outside I see a man with no arms sitting in the dirt. He looks at me and asks if I can help him. Asks if I can give him anything. Anything at all. Food or water or money and I tell him that I’m sorry but I don’t have anything. 14The Man smiles at me and then closes his eyes and tries to drift back to sleep. 15The Painter holds open the door of the lighthouse and we step inside to find a wide room made of dark brick. 16I tell The Painter that I did not notice the beggar when I looked at the picture in The Doctor’s office. He says, “Most don’t.” 17In the center of the room there is a table and on the table there is a small lantern and by the lantern there is a piece of paper and an old fashioned quill and some spilled ink and in the ink there are some dead bugs. 18I pick up the paper but can’t read anything on it – the spilled ink has blotted everything out and has dripped onto the floor. My eyes follow the ink down and I see that the legs of the table are very intricate and ornate. 19In the corner of the room is a red curtain. I walk towards the red curtain and pull it back. 20Behind the curtain I see stairs that lead up and stairs that lead down. When I turn around, The Painter is standing right next to me. 21“Which way?” I ask and he says that it depends where I want to go. 22Do I want to see what’s at the top of the lighthouse or do I want to see what’s in the basement? 23I slip past the red curtain, letting it fall behind me, and begin taking steps up the spiraling stairs. 24“How high is it?” and The Painter asks, “How high is what?” and I say, “The top,” and The Painter says, “Why do you wish to know?” and I say, “Just –” and I catch myself but not before the word slips out, “-curious.” 25Yes, I am curious. I want to know how far it is to the top but for what purpose? Why does it matter how many steps stand between the top and myself? Will I not climb them if he tells me that there are too many? I am goal oriented. My goal is to reach the top. The quantifiable number does not matter to the goal. 26My curiosity is a moot point. 27I tell the Painter, “Never mind. I don’t care.” And he says, “Do care. This world is the only one you have. And I say, 28“I don’t believe that. We just came from another world,” and he says, “Yes, but this, now, this moment, is currently your whole world. And 29in this moment you get to choose everything. 30In this moment you could choose to continue walking or you could choose to turn around. 31You could choose to walk to the ocean or find that man outside some food. 32It is all the same. We are all the same. 33Because we were in a very different place, does not mean that we were not connected to this place. 34Because your toes are far from your eyes, it does not mean that the two are disconnected. 35We are all part of one great body, no matter who we are, what we are or where we are. 36That step is part of you.” We reach a door at the top that is made of heavy wood and banded iron. On the door is a gargoyle head with a pierced nose. 37The gargoyle token is not evil. It is simply a crafted rock, carrying no malevolent will itself. The token acts as police tape. 38Caution wanderer. Stay back. This ground is strange and dangerous. 39I lift up my hand to knock but The Painter stops me. “Go inside.” “Just walk in?” “He already knows that we’re here.” 40And that is when I received part of my answer. Who is in the lighthouse? HE. 41I open the door and, although the room is full of windows facing the outside world, everything is dark. 42The Painter says, “You have to do this part alone,” and I turn around to find him standing at the top of the steps. 43“I’m afraid.” And he says, “I know. Everyone is. You are not alone.” 44And then he shuts the door and I’m left in the starlight.

 

***Subscribe for updates***

Part 6 premieres next Monday the 6th. We will have a conversation with Darkness and get eaten by a giant whose name is God.

 

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender [seq. 6]

 The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender is  a 10-part series of fiction. Below is part 4. To read the introduction of the project, click here.

To read part 1, click here.

To read part 2, click here.

To read part 3, click here.

Otherwise, begin scroll.

 

[SEQ. VI] 1I open my eyes and I’m underwater, inside of a narrow tube and I can’t lift my arms. 2A creature has been placed over my mouth and my first thought is that it looks like a starfish and its “arms” have suckered to my face but it does not hurt and I realize that this thing is giving me oxygen and allowing me to breathe as we exist in some kind of symbiotic relationship in this water or liquid and I wonder what it is taking away from me. How am I paying it? 3Small creatures or blurs or people move outside of the tub and I can see them observing me but I can’t speak or motion for them. 4I blink my eyes and one of them points at me. It reaches up and opens its chest and pulls out a small trinket that looks like a slug and the creature places it on the counter and the water in the tank begins to drain and when it does, I feel myself poop but I do not feel any shame in the act. 5When the water is gone I see that there never was any glass and that the water was more like a jelly that was somehow held perfectly still, presenting its expected form. 6The jelly is spread out on the floor but it immediately begins to coagulate and then it pulls towards itself as though drawn by internal magnets. It gathers itself up to one another and then slides and slithers back to its cage. 7Is the liquid sentient? 8The starfish drops from my mouth and pulls a long proboscis from my throat, longer than I would have assumed. I feel it pulling up through my stomach and intestines. 9The thing licks it’s lips and says, “Thank you,” before dropping to the ground and scurrying towards the gelatin, it’s abdomen plump with my bacterial stew. 10It crawls into the cage with the gelatin and then crawls inside the gelatin and goes to sleep. It will live off of my secretions in hibernation until next it is needed. 11The creatures are greys of some kind but they’re not from outer space and they’re still watching me and now I’m back here and I just stare at them and they stare at me and I am so very sad because I can no longer sense what they’re saying. 12I have lost all form of communication with them. 13Something has been pulled away from me and I can’t remember anything or how to speak to them but I’m certain something is missing. 14I want to feel their thoughts and I want them to tell me that it’s going to be okay but they don’t [SEQ. VI2] 1and then I am lying in a bed, staring at the ceiling and a woman is standing over me and she is my wife and all of my memories come rushing back to me and I say, “Please don’t ever allow me to wake up again. It’s too painful to remember who I am. My journeys are eternal” [SEQ. VI2] 15instead they just stare at me and is it pity that I see in their eyes or is that just my imagination? 16Instead I speak out loud and say, “Where am I?” which is such an elementary question and I’m embarrassed that I have to ask it because I know that I should know and instead of answering the greys take a step back because the raw quality of my voice hurts them. 17One of them lifts up a finger and makes a motion through the air that opens up a small doorway in the air itself and we step through it, displacing ourselves. 18In the other room I see another man, a human man, who is Caucasian, what we would call European with gray hair and blue eyes. He has on a sweater and wears a kind smile that draws me in. 19The other greys are gone and there is no doorway and I say “Who are you?” and he says, “You don’t remember me?” And I say, “Am I crazy?” and he says, “What do you mean?” 20And I say, “Is this real?” And he says, all of this audibly, of course, out loud, which is why I think the greys left – because the sounds somehow hurt them or at least made them uncomfortable. 21He says, “What do you mean by real?” And I say, “Is the place I was at real – the land with the scarecrow and the fishermen? Or was it a kind of hypnosis? Did I experience it in the Dream Tank?” Dream Tank. Where did those words come from? 22I continue, “Was the rock a drug? Was the ship real? What is ultimate reality and what is false and where am I right now in all of this?” 23And the doctor says that everything is real. 24“All realities, even fake ones, are real. 25Aren’t we all processing things? Aren’t we all reacting to stimuli? 26If you are afraid of a ghost in the dark and you feel fear, isn’t that fear real even if the ghost is not?” 27And I think he is right but it seems like he’s avoiding handing over the information. Information that he has. Knowledge that he won’t share with me. 28I ask him how long I’ve been here and he tells me a few hours and I say, “In this room?” And he shrugs and says “Parts of it.” 29I go to his bookshelf but don’t recognize any of the titles. They look like they might be written in Danish or Dutch. I reach out to pick one up but the doctor says, “Please don’t do that,” but I do it anyways and inside I find that all of the pages are blank and I say, “Who are you?” and he says, 30“There are no answers in my name,” 31and then he says, “Who are you?” but he does not inflect his voice as though he is repeating a question. He doesn’t inflect at all. His voice is void of nuance. 32He’s trying to copycat me or all of us. Humans. 33He’s not like me. 34I turn inside of myself, reach inside of myself, looking for my letter but my letter has been stolen from me by the abyss and I find only hints of something that used to be there. Dust. There are warm feelings but I can’t attach them to an action or a memory. Just an empty room with a concrete bench. 35He tells me that he gave me something very important and I lost it and that I lost it stupidly and carelessly and now, he tells me, he has to talk to me in this primitive series of grunts and moans like a common animal 36and then he reaches up and he peels off his face like boiled skin from a tomato and underneath I see that he is a grey with sharp teeth. 37Like roasted kale, he eats the face and I hear it crunching between his teeth like tacks. 38He says, “Life is delicious,” 39and then he tells me that I’m doing it wrong. 40I’m viewing life from the wrong perspective. 41Here, look, he emotes to me and I turn to look at the painting on the wall when his emotions brush past me. Has he gifted me back with the communication? Can I feel him? 42“Look at the painting and tell me what you see.” And I tell him that I see a field with a light tower and I see two deer but I wonder if there are deer wherever this light tower exists and the grey sends to me: “What do you think of this painting? Tell me what you see,” and I begin to explain the image. 43There is a lake in the background, white water heads, a little bend on the horizon. The water disappears in the distance. 44In an eternal sunset. 45The cattle in the foreground walk off frame. Cattle? Deer? I’m not sure. Could it be both? 46He says “What do you see,” and I tell him again and then he says, “But what else do you see? Look beyond your own eyes. Stare at it with the artist’s own heart. When he painted it, what was he thinking about? As he painted the black strokes in the now dried paint, what was he thinking about? Was his mind set on the brush strokes or were they set on something else at hand? Was his heart in it at all? See it with those eyes. Feel the letters and the tools and bring them to me to feel and I can feel the breeze and I don’t see anything change at all but suddenly everything surrounds me and I can see into the amazing beautiful because that is ours and it belongs to nobody except us and I am insanely aware of the fact. 47“Tell me what you see in the painting,” and I tell him that I see a lighthouse and he says, “Yes. That is what your eyes see. But what else?” And I say that it makes me feel calm and he says, “Yes. It does. But why?” and I try to look deeper into the painting and 48I look at the eyes of the cows, which are black and bleak and I say, “The cows seem sad. They are surrounded by beauty and freedom but they look so hopeless.” The doctor nods his head and says, “That’s very interesting. I’ve always felt as though they looked calm because they had everything.” 49And I say, “If you have everything and need nothing, you no longer require goals.” 50The doctor says, “And?” I think and then say, 51“And if you don’t have goals, you don’t have a path.” 52“And if you don’t have a path?” “Then you are hopeless.” 53“So do you believe that being hopeless and being fully content, which most believe to be polar opposites, can actually co-exist in the same moment?” 54The question is not meant for me to answer aloud but to wonder at. 55He asks me what else I see and I tell him that I want to know what is in the lighthouse and he asks me why I care and I tell him that I don’t care but that I am curious. “You want to know what is in the light house simply for the sake of knowing what is in the lighthouse?” “Well, yes,” but I immediately feel inferior for requesting it. What is the purpose of my curiosity? 56“What if there were nothing inside?” “Then at least I would know.” “You would know what?” “I would know that there is nothing.” 57“And what if I told you that god resided in the lighthouse? What would you do with that information?” “I would go to the lighthouse.” “How? It is just a painting.” 58My eyes begin to sting. The air is very dry. I blink a lot. 59The doctor asks if I am okay and I tell him that I am fine. 60“I cannot go into the painting.” “No, that much is obvious. It is just the perception of colors and shapes on a canvas. So how do you find out what is in the lighthouse?” 61I take several steps towards the painting and I squint, trying to look inside. 62“The mouse hole is closed to humans,” the doctor says and then laughs. 63“I cannot know what is in the lighthouse. 64I can never see God. 65I can never know God. 66I can never know if He exists. Is that what you are suggesting?” and the doctor says, “No. You can know. You just have to stop looking at things like a human being. You’re so short sighted and your perception of the world around you is so limited. 67Often times I wonder what it must be like to see the universe through such flat eyes. 68Tell me, what color would you say my shirt is?” “Red.” “I really don’t mean to be rude – it truly isn’t my intent – but I must say that your view of things is fascinating. I wish I could see life through your eyes for a singular human day. I bet it would give me quite an appreciation for my own problems.”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender [seq. 3 – 6]

“I started reading The Spiral Cornucopia of Pale Lavender… and I didn’t really like it. But then I realized I was trying to read it like a book – I was trying to just read it. And so I went back and slowed it down and tried to imagine it more like something to ingest bit by bit. Like a poem or a fortune cookie. It’s still weird. But I like it a lot more.” – C.M.

“This is truly incredible.” -C.O.

“I have no idea what this garbage is supposed to be. Were you drunk when you wrote it?” -S.G.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***

 The Spiraling Cornucopia of Pale Lavender is  a 10-part series of fiction. Below is part 3. To read the introduction of the project, click here.

To read part 1, click here.

To read part 2, click here.

Otherwise, begin scroll.

74She opens the door and enters first. [SEQ. IV] 1We go through the black door and down a small set of three steps and into a small bunker area. It is a small box. It is made of metal. There are shelves. 2On those shelves are boxes and cans filled with things. Some of it is food and some of it is generic office supplies and there is also a bag of yeast that is turning black. The ceiling drips water onto the floor. 3There is an electric plug on the wall but the shape looks like a straight line an inch in length instead of anything my collective conscious may be familiar with. 4The door dissolves as we approach it and we enter a hallway that is lit by light that seems to radiate out of nowhere. It is both odd and familiar to me. 5The smell is both sweet and delicious. Like a steak in cranberry sauce. But it isn’t strong enough to make me hungry. It’s just strong enough to make me satisfied. 6I see that the old woman is suddenly standing up quite straight and looking decades younger. 7She tells me that everyone looks different here. They look the way they want to look in their hearts, which is typically a more glamorous version of themselves. 8Rarely do people want to become someone else. It happens but you typically stay yourself. 9She looks at me and laughs. 10And when I look down I see that my skin is pale white. 11We pass a mirror and I see that I am the man in the river but I don’t know why. 12She points at me and tells me that my hair is white. She pulls out a lock of it and shows me. 13We walk through the tunnels and then up some stairs and mostly I follow her because she walks as though she knows where she is going. 14At the end of the hallway there is a key. She picks up the key and uses it to open the door and I say, “Where did the key come from?” and she says that it was always here and I wonder who built this place. 15She tells me that she doesn’t know but the place is really big. She tells me that the other doors have been explored but none of them connect except two. You can go in one door and then come out the other one later on. 16A couple of guys that have been trying to map it – just some local guys in the village – figured it out. 17They think all of the doors are connected in some fashion. 18But the question is, if it’s a giant maze, what’s at the end? 19They found a room with a ceiling that appeared to not exist, a darkness that sat like a blanket. 20Another place from another time. 21The afterbirth of a local apocalypse. 22I ask her where we’re going and she just says we’re going to go to the quiet room until the Stomping Process is over. 23She says we have to stay here for several days because time moves differently where we stand. 24She says if you perch at the doorway (she used that word perch – like a giant bird) on this side and look out at the village, you will see everyone moving around very fast. They move like they’re all running around. 25Time moves more slowly over here and I say, “How old are you?” and she tells me that she is seven hundred and twenty six years old and suddenly my heart breaks because I know that her husband that is dead is not her first and that she has experienced the loss of a lifelong husband seven times. 26She carries more grief than anyone. Than everyone. 27There are things she is not telling me but I cannot prod right now. 28She tells me that we have to stay in here and wait for the Stomping Process to be finished. 29I ask her how long three days in here is and she tells me that it is seven years out there, which they call a threshing. 30When the Stomping Process begins it always lasts for seven years. 31They take the people and pull them into the sky. 32I ask why and she says she does not know. But I know. 33I know that some of them are kind and some of them are cruel and I know that they are fishing. 34The woman leads me down a hallway where the walls are gray and red and when we come to the end there are two men standing outside of a double door that is locked and the men have guns but no eyes and they don’t ask what we want because their job is not to keep things out but to keep things in. 35We walk through the doorway and inside I see a large group of people and they are all sick and broken in different ways. Some of them are covered in sores and some of them are thin and frail and some of them have blood dried around their mouth and nose and some of them lie on the floor coughing and some of them are dead. 36The smell is unpleasant but not unbearable. 37I notice a vent in the ceiling with a fan that is always running. I also see a vent and it is out of this vent that I sense a smell. 38There are perfumes being pushed into the air here. Something tangy like a grapefruit but instead of masking the stench of sickness and disease it instead adds to it, combining with it, making a smell that is neither good nor bad but making something that is neither. An ambivalent scent that I don’t think I will or could ever get used to. 39The people turn and look at us and some hold out their hands but most of them acknowledge us with their eyes and then turn away, aware that we are unable or unwilling to help them. 40I see a ham sandwich sitting on a counter but the bread has turned a dark green color. There is a refrigerator but it isn’t plugged in. 41When I turn to ask the woman a question I see that she is gone and I am so stupid and now I am alone and now I am afraid and now I realize that I am one of these people and I don’t want to be. 42I want to be free and outside even though I really don’t know what is out there and even though the fishermen are reaching from the sky and pulling people from the earth, or whatever this place is. A hologram, an illusion, a spell, I still would rather be out there because freedom inside of oppression is better than being a prisoner without a view. 43I don’t go towards the doors because I know the men will never let me out. 44I know that I cannot call my mother or my friends or my brother, if I had one, if I ever had one. If I ever had a mother. If I could find a phone. 45I cannot scream for help because no one is listening and I am alone and panic begins to wash over my body and it makes me sick and I start to pace and then I lie down and I sleep and when I wake up there are loud banging noises and the walls are shaking and the lights are flickering and I run and I hide behind the refrigerator that isn’t plugged in while the rest of the people crawl towards the door. 46They fall to their knees and they hold their hands in the air and they all begin shouting and screaming and I hear, “I am here, Lord!” and, “Take me!” and, “I am ready!” and many of them begin to laugh but most of them begin to cry and sob and I see that this is the first time they have been happy for a very long time. 47The banging stops and a whisp of something that I would call smoke or mist creeps under the door except the mist looks like a prism and I see all the colors of the retinal spectrum blending and sparkling like a gemstone and I see other things too. But I don’t see them with my eyes. I feel them. I feel the words and the thoughts and I know that yes, this prism mist is a good thing but I fear that it is also a trap and none of the people know it and I watch as the colorful mist wraps around the group of them and envelops them and I see the mist start to boil and I hear screaming but it is not screams of pain but screams of ecstasy and it seems like they are experiencing other-worldy pleasures and it is in this fashion that they go away. 48They are not pulled through the door but the prism fades as mist does and when it is gone, everything inside of it is gone as well. 49Sitting on the green and white-checkered linoleum floor is a small stone, the same prismatic color of the mist. It is about the size of my fist. I pick it up and find that it is quite warm, somehow imbued with human life but no; I understand that that is wrong. 50This is their sickness and their hatred and their sorrows and their remorse and all of the terrible and bad things of the world that have been placed and given and gifted to them over their many years wandering this strange place, this life, this existence, that they’ve gathered up and now they’ve all been allowed to leave it behind like old shoes, freed from it completely. 51I smell the rock and then I taste it, rubbing my tongue along the top. It tastes like pepper and makes me sneeze but immediately I feel the effects of it as my brain expands and I see all the pain in the world. 52I see it all. 53I see how it works into our bodies. I see that sometimes it enters through our ears and sometimes it enters through our eyes but mostly it is birthed from our hearts. 54We are like mother hens sitting on our eggs, sitting on our evils, sitting on our selfishness, sitting on our jealousies and we keep them warm and we let them grow and we birth them out into the world, not as eggs, but as words or actions or in the tone of our voice. 55I drop to my knees and I want to cry but I don’t get to. I don’t get to expel the feelings. 56I grip them in my heart and I squeeze their complex singularity with my body and my soul cries and breaks and I stare at the ceiling, which breaks away and crumbles away and I see, outside, not sunshine, but ultimate darkness and in that darkness I sense nothing at all. No great evil staring back at me but absolute sadness and it reaches out for me and it wants me and I can feel that if I follow it I can do anything I want. 57I can partake in all of my wants and desires but there will be no pleasure in any of it. There will be no taste to any of it. 58I feel laughter pulled from my body and I feel joy retched out of my hands and I feel happiness, like a coin, taken from me. 59And now I understand that I am empty and this body is truly nothing more than a little package. An envelope with a piece of paper inside and what’s written on that paper? What does my letter say? What is my message? 60I feel the darkness reaching in for my letter but I hang on tight and it says, “No. This is mine. All is mine.” 61And I know that it isn’t true but I wonder if it is and I unfold my letter, not a real letter, but my purpose, and I reach deep down inside myself and [SEQ. V] 1I say, “Who are you?” and the answer comes back. “Compassion. Understanding. Friendship. Don’t ever forget. You will die.” 2And then everything is pulled away from me but some kind of residue is perhaps still left and then my body is sucked through the gaping chasm in the ceiling and my eyeballs melt away and everything is dark and when I turn around, I see a hole in the fabric of whatever this is. Maybe a version of reality or a dimension or time or space. 3I drift away from it and I don’t care because nothing matters and everything is darkness and nothing serves a purpose and floating freely through space is better than being trapped against my will and I feel my consciousness expand and I understand that I’ve been here before and perhaps this is where I came from and perhaps this is the cradle of Now and I call out with myself, not my voice and not my heart because these things are all gone and now I am just a thought. 4My physical being has been removed and I know that I am transcendent but have somehow de-volved to a flickering memory. 5I feel out towards the edges but find nothing but vastness and then a vibration touches my thought and I know it is another place or another person or another thing – there is something. 6There is life. 7Something in this vastness and blackness and darkness and abyss and I call to it and I find it and it is a/ [SEQ. VI] 1I open my eyes and I’m underwater, inside of a narrow tube and I can’t lift my arms.

 

 

***Subscribe for updates***

Part 4 premieres next Monday the 6th. 36and then he reaches up and he peels off his face like boiled skin from a tomato”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,