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19 May 2008 @ 12:10 am
masks of death  
masks of death 08-05-13 - rush hour on the subway ~ every other passenger peers into their cell phone intently  for meaning, as intensely as though they were reading into a cut deck of fortune cards--and I surmise, if only from the desperate looks of their uniform faces, they issue forth nothing more than the cold, veiled gaze of unfriendly Death.



080430 - You and him, animated on the train no more than corpses might be in fiction--no less;

mystically unified wind and dirt--anima more animal than soul--to be sure, animal devoid of soul, as animals were stripped during the "Enlightenment," "soul" from "body" -- draped by the weaves and colours of your masters who disown you as your bodies drag along lifelessly.

but her ~ in clothes which could have been made only for her, fashioned by an anonymous labourer unconsciously, through the mighty will of God, no less, whose toils were always in hope of her -- how her corpse now moves ceremoniously, as though she were a graceful dancer strolling carelessly through a graveyard, reckless to all death enfolding her -- in animated devotion, utterly, upturning life in such barren soil not with the measure of her step, but with her immeasurable discontent (which pertains to the invisible) -- as though to implore death with her silent pout holding up her smile: "cold shadow, come quickly -- for too long has the lie which calls itself 'life' kept us eternal lovers apart.  come now, Love--won't you tear such lies away  -- your magic suspends, moves thorough me utterly; I move only through your beauty which draws me nearer to you with the close of ever-y-day."

080514 - fashion: mere collectivity & conformism to a mass hysteria?  or could there possibly dwell some hermetic esoterica within?  a prodigious intelligence--not of the mind, but of the body, whose crystallization may be the mind--and its infatuation with the mask.  for a mask never lies, it only paints  sensations.  fashion: a code about the code--a metacode--of the body's impersonal knowledge, hence mute, cannot be stripped to its "Truth."  has nothing essentially to do with the disavowal of individuated thought -- rather a radical thought's subterfuge, half-assured repose -- under the veil of a blanket obscurity in whose embrace may possibly reside an affirmation of a world that is in want of a name destined for secrecy -- a metacode of the neuroses, as Jung may have called them,--or fetishes-- whose symbols of transformation carry the motive forces of unconscious desire, to propagate the species, and life, at just about any cost, not barring humility, humiliation through a device, magical  -- art, fashion, and appearance, through their absence of words, as an assemblage of mass, mobile army of desires to procure and resurrect every positive power of the lie, voiding any  indignity or offense entailed at the latter's ignoble expense--

phusis kruptesthai philei - "nature/becoming/emergence loves/tends to hide/bury itself/adorn itself" - (Heraclitus)