Monday, October 30, 2006

The hyperactive myth of an overheated heart, do it, just beat beat beat.

My head is wrapped in mystery. It's that time of year where the pulp sci-fi, mystery, and horror novels come out. That's a lie, that's just about every time of year. But something about the desolation that fall offers makes me more prone to believe, to get absorbed in the fantasy of these things. Also, magic new friendships offer the goods that make the mind tingle in that ancient sort of way. The illuminati is the hot hot ticket, ballroom dancing with mummies and ghosts, dreams and whisperings of the redbeards and their push and pull up up up, the secret inventors of the pyramids, the elevator, the high-rise and any sort of ascension. Pulp literature IS the modern myth, or is it. Maybe I jumped the gun on that one. Maybe it is just the religion for those of us who fail in identification with our father's myths. Mystery makes my pulse skyrocket, fills me with impulses to find a second less efficient way into outer space. Who will fly with me? Take my hand, grab my ankles and hair, anything that will not rip and tear at inopportune moments and I will take the hand of the one with the magic eyes and his windy pockets will lift the chain of us up off the earth, unaware of himself, he will give us our emerald ticket into the sun, where we wish not to fly but are offered no other choice by the wishes our parents made the last time the clock struck eleven eleven. Flying up, past the thirteenth floor time warp poodle portal, past the suicidal rooftops, past the spires and clocks that cramp the necks of Japanese tourists, through the jet-stream where the geese meet their match with the vicious engines that eventually plummet anyways, past that one last hot air balloon skimming the globe in eighty days or whatnot. Past past past everything, past the Americans and Russians the Skylab and Gemini and the age of Aquarius, cancer and virus, antibiotics and antibacterial soap. We will need not. You and me. Come on, come float with me.

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