STRUCTURES - A STRANGE NARRATIVE  

interested13563 53M
985 posts
2/9/2006 11:43 am

Last Read:
5/9/2006 4:10 pm

STRUCTURES - A STRANGE NARRATIVE




Algebraic structures. Social structures, mental structures. Structures in general. Family structures - those in particular... Many structures. Multiple structures. Everything a structure. One structure inside another. Great structures! Structures in one or many dimensions - four or even more. Cellular structures, brain structures. Recombination of structures. One structure absorbing another. Decaying structures. Refusal of structure. Structure-less mind - a different structure. Pride in structure.

I am proud of the sodium in my body. It was produced in now-extinct stellar systems,
perhaps very remote ones, billions of years earlier. (Other elements too.) It will exist in posterior stellar systems billions of years later. Asymptotically for ever. Immortal via my matter. Excellent! This is an internal structure, mine. Then, a beautiful structure. She left a fair hair behind. A soft structure. White, smooth flesh. Warm structure. Close as well as remote. Sweet structure - not honey - sweet. Complicated structure. Conformity? Dissimilar to other structures? Unique? Alone? - Do I really have a structure or do I just think I do? Perhaps I am structure-less. The others are structures. How nice it is to be structure-less! Wait! Her structure is not supported! She may fall and get hurt! - She got hurt yesterday (a chronological structure). Oh my heart, I wish she doesn't get hurt! She has felt so much pain already. Now she knows a lot because now she has conceptualized her life, she has structured her thought. That is an emotional structure. A thin, transparent structure, she pretends not to understand. I lose the last vestige of my structure.

She leaves. Not one single different step does she take! The same route she follows, the same route she can no longer tolerate. She cannot speak openly. She is bound to so many structures. She works or doesn't work or tries to work. She concentrates. She does so much more than I do. I hide behind the professional structures. I develop them myself for her - I who have maintained no structure, I who have been left a heap of mismatched pieces, shattered pieces, dust crashed by ferocious hooves - notions, formal structures ‒ without mental cohesion with self-destructive tendencies. Pressure. Pressure of the body. Pressure of feelings. What do I say! For reason's sake, what do I say? I only reflect myself on the white paper, a diffuse image. And she is away. There is no rhythm.

Miles run past my ears. No rhythm still. There is only an intersection near a hill. A green hill but without a trace of leaves. Brown house like my inner guts - disgusting. Random white drops of paint on the walls. She must paint the house - she had said. On the balcony. She feels dizzy. She does not fall off. Why - I wonder. Good - I feel. Life is out of tune. There may or may not be so many things not to understand. I refuse to understand. I cannot understand. I understand and I do not accept I have understood. Why so much emotion? Why so much done in error years earlier? One understands in the end. Always in the end.

Return. Fogginess of the mind without verbs. This is what is written. No verbs. Conditions. I do not want to see my face for I have touched her. Did that mean anything to her? Does she avoid acknowledgement? It is never easy to break the structures. In particular without cause. I am not a cause. I am not anything. It can all be mundane and commonplace. She has goals. I am means. But she shared something of herself with me. That part that has no structure, the part that hurts. So much bitterness. Such a purpose (no verb again). Automatic reaction. Machine-like thought. I am the finger that pushes the buttons on the machine. This is all I am. The machine does not feel pleasure in my touch. Would she? I isolate the rest of my body - I, the finger, exist in my repetitive motion. For this, the machine will remain a machine and I will still be a fool. I regained my body for a moment and touched her hand.

Deep breath. Scattered papers. Alone - a new scene. Longing, painful longing. Thoughts and dreams hammer the head that cracks. Old structures, cracked. Adored body. Bright eyes. They cry and the world is in tears. They laugh and I live again. I, the dead one. The one that has been mistakenly counted among the living. I write but why? Commonplace? I wish to go to the dirtiest places on earth. To plunge into the filth up to my throat to get drowned in it. I wish to go where there is no human dignity left - where passion and pain have dissolved all that is considered good nurture. Where people are all the same, low, tragic, foolish, menial, freakish, horrid, tortured and torturers. I wish to feel their passions on my skin while my imagination recreates the substitutes of my love. Maybe then I will comprehend the least of men, me. Why do I write? There are so many things I should have written but never will. Time is exhausted. My time. Do I have to insert another coin in the machine?

Here is where reason does not sustain me any longer. Here is where the dream wakes me up and redefines itself as a nightmare. Here is where I try to stir my eyes to save myself from terror, from the agony that haunts me. Close your eyelids, self! Awake in a new cyclic illusion! Deep imagery. Merciless, cyclic elimination. Purposeless, fruitless thoughts. Purposeless, fruitless feelings. I wonder if I seek to die in order to feel my being. But, I the many-billion-year-old sodium do not request not to live. I demand not to exist - either as sodium or as anything else. Like a signal at the other end of the cable that has been cut off. I did not catch up with anything. Desert at the end of time.

------------------------------------

Automatic writing with some brushing
over for readability.

------------------------------------

Copyright 2006 by interested13563

rm_FreeLove999 46F
16127 posts
2/9/2006 1:27 pm

i have two separate reactions to this piece -- one is to you, the person, who i love and want to hold through all of this.

the other reaction is that this is a gripping piece of writing conjuring up many ideas, but just riding them. besides my own, these are the only pieces of really automatic writing i've read in here -- and there is something quite breathtaking about such writing!

thank you
>>>hugz<<<



[blog freelove999]


interested13563 53M
2557 posts
2/9/2006 4:58 pm

FreeLove, thanks. The story behind this piece
is exreemely old. There is no need to worry
about it. However, it is part of my life and
there are sometimes events that resurface it
because of striking similarities.


papyrina 51F
21133 posts
2/10/2006 6:33 am

a hug ,as i won't even pretend to understand most of that,i can feel some pain,confusion and i don't know why


I'm a

and
i'm here to stay


interested13563 53M
2557 posts
2/10/2006 3:21 pm

Thanks, Papy! (the narrative just reveals inner processes,
not necessarily rational ones.)


silkysmoothlegs3 105F

2/10/2006 3:46 pm

sighs
wonderfully wrote

i could never ever write like this

love silky


rm_Kissmystuff 61F
1435 posts
2/10/2006 10:18 pm

I send greetings to your higher self...
that part of you that steps forward...
to help ease you through your earth time pain.
The colors of your spirit shift...
as you learn more about the real reality.
We repeat the lessons continually until we learn.
The silver cord that connects us...
each to the other...
spans all time...all memories...allmatter.
When next you visit that altered state
bring back your spirit animal...
to give you added strength...
and help you through your clouded time.
The shaman will emerge...when you are ready.
(and you will understand)

kiss

Kiss


sexyeyes375 47F

2/10/2006 11:03 pm

this is very powerful and a bit painful for me to read. Some of your thoughts resonate through me

I love automatic writing. Thank you for the intimate ride.


interested13563 53M
2557 posts
2/11/2006 10:12 am

Waggy: Thank you so much for your warm thoughts.
In fact I am fine. This narrative was written
first long ago and I decided to be brave enough to
brush over it and present it here as an example of
the inner struggles we all have and my own, of course.

SexyEyes: Thank you too for your comment. In fact
your reaction is exactly what I was hoping for:
an intimate ride through inner space.

KissMyStuff: You are absolutely correct that we
are all connected, even though these connections
are not arbitrary or wishful. Your comment is
indeed very sensitive and I really appreciate it.


interested13563 53M
2557 posts
2/11/2006 10:13 am

Silky: Thanks for reading and for the
sweet comment!


interested13563 53M
2557 posts
2/12/2006 1:30 pm

Thank you mzhuny!!!!


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