We are all made from the same stuff.

Not just "we," but "We." I mean Everything. We are all--you, me, the rock, the tree... and yes, even the ship--are made from stardust. The remains of a terrible explosion that no human mind could even begin to imagine, let alone understand.

Billions of years ago, Allthatwaseverything had compacted down into the tiniest, tiniest fragment of existence. Cosmic sardines. Everything that ever was, is, or will be, all in the same space. Thesamespace. Ur-space. We. Tinier than even the tiniest thing that has ever been. Smashed together.

And then, for whatever reason, Allthatwaseverything exploded, spinning its contents. It did not send us out into the universe, that tiny blob of almost nothing yet containing everything was the universe. All of it. The universe is not expanding into something else. It is just expanding. There is nothing else to expand into.

And you, me, the rock, the tree... and yes, even the ship are all a part of that thing that once was Allthatwaseverything.

But not just the things we can touch, see, feel, smell and taste.

Even the things we think.

Even the things we think.

We are all made from the same stuff. You, me, the rock, the tree... and yes, even that ship. And Sherlock Holmes. And James Bond. And Gandalf. And Gimli. Sauron and that other S-Guy.

Even Bashthraka and Kachiko.

Our ideas are made from the same stuff we are. They walk with us wherever we go, constant shadows, invoked by our imaginations, given force by our will. Silver and gold. Intertwined, reaching up. Up. Up.

All of our thoughts and fantasies. All of our dreams. All of our aspirations. All the characters of fiction we've ever loved or hated. Solomon Kane and Dracula. Caine and Able. Serpent. Thor. Loki. They don't just live in our minds. They live here, with us. Every step of our lives.

Our ideas are made from the same stuff as we. We're all in this together. Us and our imaginations.

For we are our imaginations. We depend upon them. Need them. Love them. Lust them. Would fuck them forever if they would let us.

And the opposite is also true.

Tonight, when the moon is at its highest, I will go out of this place and drive to the West. To the sea.

Standing on the sands, I will open a satchel and reveal what I have brought with me. A black robe, a shovel, a knife, and a bottle of mead.

When the moon is at its highest, I will don the black robe. I will dig a hole and I will pour the honey wine into it. Then, the knife. And blood.

And then, when the hole is filled with mead and blood, I will pray as Medea taught to me...

Goddess of the Night
Goddess of Dreams
Protect me tonight
That I may dream

Let me rest my head,
Let me rest my heart,
Comfort me with your eyes
Your voice
Your courage

For I am one who loves you,
Goddess of the Night,
For I have been too long from your realm
And I miss your caress

____

PS: Cowboy Ron, the Jason and the Argonauts DVD and the Primatene Mist were Godsends.

I mean, Goddesssends.

Thank you, my brother.

I've decided I'm writing a gospel. I'm putting it here, in this journal, because it will probably contain more than a few of the ideas I've been sorting through the magical part of my brain. More than a few.

And, like I said, if you don't believe me, that's too bad. I prayed, he showed up, and we had a short conversation. I wrote it down. So fast, it was a miracle. See! Evidence that me and Jesus actually had a sit down. An honest to Discordia miracle!

Don't believe me? Read it and judge for yourself.

There is only one room.
There is only one moment.
There is only one person here.
I love you.
You already know this.
-- Alan Moore, The Moon and Serpent Egyptian Theatre of Marvels


Thirteen point five seconds ago, I was feeling very alone.

Thirteen point five billion years ago, everything in the universe was condensed into something smaller than a pin head. Everything. You, me, Pluto, Rush Limbaugh. Everything.

Thirteen point five hours ago, I undertook a magical act. I imposed my Will on Reality and invoked Change.

Thirteen point five years ago, I was almost homeless, living on the charity of friends, having the best sex I'd ever had in my life.

Thirteen point five days ago, it was September 5th. My ex-wife told me she gave birth to a baby boy. A gift I could not give her.

Thirteen point five billion years ago, everything in the universe exploded, sending particles and heat out into whatever isn't our universe. Whatever our universe is expanding into.

Thirteen point five seconds ago, emmylouangel read what I wrote for her in this very journal, reminding her that she was not alone. She sent me a small letter, thanking me.

Thirteen point five seconds ago, I was reminded of the very thing I wanted her to remember.

And that thing is this:

Thirteen point five billion years ago, all of us were together. Muslim, Christian, Arab, American, Protestant, Pagan, Catholic, Black, White, Yellow, Liberal and Conservative. We're all made from the same stuff. The residue of an explosion so tiny, we wouldn't even notice it. From star dust we came and to star dust we will return.

Maybe thirteen point five billion years from now. Maybe thirteen point five days. Maybe thirteen point five minutes. Maybe thirteen point five seconds.

Time is a mechanism mankind uses to measure reality. It doesn't really exist. Thirteeen point five billion years ago and thirteen point five seconds ago are one and the same. As far as the universe is concerned, there is only one moment. Only one single tiny moment.

And here we are, so far apart from each other. Husbands and wives lying together in their beds--right now--unable to reach out and touch each other, so far away. Thirteen point five billion miles away. One of them is crying, hoping the other won't notice. The other is pretending not to notice.

Of the world's population, one in thirteen point five people will die this year. Place your bets. Of course, it won't be you.

Space is an illusion we create for ourselves. In the grand scheme of things, there is really only one point in space.

All of everything is happening at the same time in the same place. You, me, Pluto, Rush Limbaugh. We're all the same. Time does not divide us. Space does not divide us. Not our skin, not our dreams, not our dogmas, not our favorite movies. Not even particles. Go up high enough or go down deep enough, and all you see is cells, moving about.

All one organism. Not just us and not just Mother Earth. But all of it. All one organism.

Thirteen point five seconds ago, I felt alone. I'm never alone. There you are. Here I am.

Thirteen. Point. Five.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

"Love and death, working as a tag team, will undo us all."
-- Alan Moore, Snakes and Ladders

(this is for emmylouangel)

In Snakes and Ladders, Alan Moore makes poetry out of life's most beautiful and terrible truth: that all of this--ourselves and all that surrounds us--is accident.


The incredible power of this knowledge, that all of life--from the tiniest microscopic organism to the mighty sperm whale--is here because of happenstance, is something that is tragic and comic, empowering and devestating.

If we are intended, each of us, if we are what another being desired and brought into being with sheer will, then nothing we do matters. Only the intention of the Other matters, for it is the Will of the Other that causes each motion, each emotion, each triumph and each tragedy.

The painting does not take a bow, but only the painter.

Life is art, but we are the ones who make it so. Life's chaos is our source, our canvas, paint, ink, chalk, ruler, brush, pen, and stage. From this chaos, we make Art. We connect the dots between the mess and create patterns. We look upon the stars and find gods and heroes, devils and demons. We look upon the lillies of the field and find words to communicate ideas.

Words to communicate ideas.

This liquid alchemy we call "language," transforming base and vulgar symbols into sounds, into words, and with those words we capture golden  ideas like butterflies in silver nets. The ultimate magical act.

The ultimate magical act. Transformation of the cat to "C" "A" "T" to "CAT". Even the dullest mind can comprehend that the greatest magical act of all is capturing an entire human mind, all of that mind's thoughts and emotions, all of its past and potential, all of what it was, is, and ever shall be into one single symbol, one single letter...