brain strain

The Empyrean - part three

January 5 2009

My describing The Empyrean as a story is accurate from my viewpoint, but misleading, as there are no road signs to lead someone else to perceive a clear story out of it. There was no intention to write what would be seen as clear-cut story, though it is one to me. Being that it takes place in the mind of one person, no laws of time and space, or concrete relationships exist therein. This is to say that if you look into it with your logical brain you will only strain yourself and come up with nothing. The words were specifically written to document an inner experience of life, the kind that a person has extreme difficulty translating to anyone else. Part of the intention was to write words to connect with other people who have been, or are, overwhelmed by the confusing, inescapable inner world they must live in. Equal attention was given to writing words that would gently direct themselves towards the listeners’ intuitive brain, and their sub-conscience, which I believe comprehends and catalogues everything in a much richer and more multi layered way than our conscious mind. Like a lot of lyrics, it was written to be perceived in as many ways as there are people hearing it. A person to whom the words have no clear, conscious meaning may derive more from it than someone who reads it as I do, and so I recommend hearing or reading it however you will. It would have been simpler to say nothing at all but this only fully occurred to me today, as I have gradually realized that by saying what it is to me, I am encouraging people to see it my way and to me, that’s not what rock lyrics are for. I believe rock lyrics should be open to interpretation and I wrote these so they could be. While I could explain the story as I see it that would detract from the potential multifarious meanings that will come about from people applying their own sense of feeling from their life experience, much as they always do.

The following words vaguely express the lyrical and musical form:

From within confusion and darkness

Reaching up to the source of light

Trying

Giving up

Climbing

Resting

Going up

Going down

Dying

Being reborn

Darkness becomes lighter

Grown ups

I was a little boy kicking flowers
She wore a sundress and bruises on her cheeks
Back then we spent together hours
And I now know it’s the modern me that is weak.
(I had hope then.)
At some point in this game of life you’ll decide you’ve lost enough pieces- you’ve grown up.
The past you doesn’t get to show up,
And even when it’s driven you to throw up…
There are no sick days
There is no vacation
Adulthood was a destination after all.
Life will take your youth in pieces.
Not with minutes but with your mind.
Not with seconds but with stimuli that you can’t unbrand from your brain.
Strain as you might…
You’ll never unlearn nukes. That life can be rendered meaningless.
You’ll never unlearn cluster bombs or sexism.
You’ll never forget slavery.
You won’t worry about cooties youll get tested for Chlamydia.
The girl with the bruises on her cheek won’t play hide and seek any more.
She’ll date the guy you hate and you’ll call her a whore.
That first heartbreak will take a piece of you.
Your heart will rewire itself, it doesn’t need your help.
It will gladly pump blood instead of love.
You’ll learn to stop crying over such simple things, life has far too many horrors in store for that.
And soon enough you’ll be numb to those too.
You won’t know how to feel after your first school shooting.
They’ll tell you it’s OK to grieve.
You’ll receive and offer to pray from an administration that has shown you that guns are more welcome in your school than God is.
You’ll maybe cry.
Maybe not.
A month will pass and classes will resume as normal.
The blood stained carpets got switched for tile and for a while you’ll feel OK.
They’ll tell you need to go to college.
You will.
The most important thing youll learn is that the career they made you pick at sixteen is a pipe dream…
It doesn’t exist anymore.
You’ll settle for an entry level job with a median income that’s just enough that you don’t need to be saved from poverty by your parents and blame the opposing political parties position for your plentiful problems.
Statistically, you’ll get married and have kids.
You’ll maybe have one or two pieces of that little boy left.
I lost my last piece on a street corner when the girl with bruises on her cheek…
Leaned in my car window and asked what it would take to pay her rent this week.

I am sorry Snowbarry

But some of us refuse to let you try to push the fact your ship was built on anti blackness, bullshit and pee under the rug.

It was anti-Blackness when you and the media try to call for the recasting of Iris West up to a year before the show even started. You have no idea how Candice was gonna act. No taste of what she had to offer so why we’re you calling to recast her? Don’t strain your brains for the answer; you know it in your heart. When you tried to say the Danielle looked more like Comic!Iris because she was white and wears blue coats. when you sent Candice tweets calling her a monkey and the n word on her own damn twitter account.

It was bullshit when you berated Iris for running a blog on your own damn blogs. Or saying she a damsel but calling it okay when it was Caitlin’s turn to be saved.
How it was wrong for Iris to kiss Barry while having a boyfriend but y'all turned blind to the fact Caitlin was getting married when “Barry” kissed her and after the fact still use that scene as a moment for your ship.

And let’s not forget the great big moment that convinced so many of you to ship this stale bread pairing(you know outside the real reason) Pee. Good old fashion Pee the builder of the great ships.
“I need you to Pee in this” yes I can see this lasting along time.

DAY 2479

Palace by the Gate, London        Jan 27,  2015       Tue 11:02 pm GMT

Morning hours are the best suited for thoughts to be put on paper or blog or any medium. They demonstrate a rested and relaxed brain, oblivious to the strains that shall follow soon, as the day comes by …

I did write a bit .. read it … and destroyed it ! Does happen quite often. It is not the content of the writing that mattered, nor the style or mode .. it is the layers of ulterior meaning that percolates through the minds of those that read more than at times is wished to be expressed. But I would have to be in the class of distinguished writers, to be able to even mumble incoherently an answer to that question.

Knowing different facets of questioning and response is an art by itself. When subjected to it repeatedly and in the same refrain, it requires more than matchsticks to prise open the eyes that shut .. !

Audience reactions and the impact of their excited encouragement, can pull any matter to its prime. It is a given. Each time an attempt is made to execute an exercise, they, the mass, shall put in what for me is the ‘rush of adrenalin’ to boost my presence. I experience that quite often, and am convinced of the fact that were it not for the masses we would fall dangerously short of any kind of attention or adulation.

I am taken away from the scene for just a moment to attend to more urgent dispositions and am back thinking what I should be addressing to the Ef, having spoken about them all day at various forums, when asked about my social media curriculum … and conundrums  !!!

We are too committed a collection of extendiums to ever want to damage or bring about change in our format. We are a tolerant race …individuals rather, that possess differing qualities and hence debate. We are unique in our presence. We may be critical of public opinion, but shall adhere to all that is manufactured and acquired by them that wish us for change and progress !!

My body trembles with the desire to rest and so I shall ..

Amitabh Bachchan 

Because it’s the stuff you gotta do that makes your heart race, your brain strained and your stomach uneasy. Watch horror movies or sneak out after curfew. Break the rules completely and break ‘em even more while trying to mend them back together. Be lied to and lie to others, be heartbroken and break the hearts of others. It’s what you gotta do that makes you feel most alive; that makes you feel the most. Satisfying or unpleasant, distressed or thrilled, elated or despondent, you’re feeling. Do it.
—  excerpt from a book i’ll never write #13 //