incoherence is a form of form

to those of you who have paid any attention to these ramblings. you must be wondering why i stopped so suddenly. some of you obviously don't care. some of you envisioned it (suddenly is the wrong word, then. my apologies). others didn't notice, but perhaps cared. the rest have given themselves answers to gratify their own fantasies; he got bored, he married, he was arrested, he became addicted to one thing or another, he died perhaps, he rose from the dead in three days but in a village in the pacific with no internet where he is surrounded by virgins (but they're all eunuchs). i will not give you reasons for my long absence from this virtual confessional booth. the last group, those that have given themselves answers, are logically the only ones still reading. still waiting. even if their answer to my absence is my death, they hold some hope that there is a glimmer of light silently yelling to be seen, somewhere in the darkness. but why return? you. not i. why have you returned? i wonder what it is that intrigues you about these tales. these splatterings of mental vomit.

among the things that have happened in the past two months. (time: so strange. it feels i last sat here in this grey room only yesterday!). i had the old incident with heroin to which i pointed an unsure finger in an earlier post. (the word heroin comes from the german for heroic. so i'm told. i tried nothing heroic during my brief stint on the other side of reality. (but i did see god. he had no wings. just cold feet with veiny toes dug deep into the snow. i tried to inject him so he could come along for the journey but then he turned into a tree and a bird in his leafy feathers dropped a shitbomb on me)). they used to sell it behind the counter as a substitute for morphine. don't laugh. soon, the children of the future will laugh at our tradition of wearing trousers and driving heavy, coughing, shiny metal machines that killed all the flora, all the fauna on some old island called madagascar. madagascar will be old news to the children of the future. just like the giant elephant bird which used to amble along in its forests not so long ago. a man will sell heroin to kids claiming you'll trip out so bad you'll think you were in the 21st century doing ancient things like wearing trousers and getting chased by big-eyed lemurs on long lost madagascar! this, of course, he'll do by way of telepathy. radio signals between people's brains and what-not. the future. so don't besmirch heroin. trousers will be illegal for causing some new-age contagious cancer. to want to trip so bad you end up in a long-forgotten eden. the heroin users of the future will be truly heroic). then christmas came. my sister decided to come and pick me up. (she says she spent 4 days trying to find me. asked other street people. even checked with the police and the hospitals. there was no earthquake in birmingham. no bodies to be uncovered under the rubble. i think she was exaggerating. the usual family guilt-exchange at the end of the year. i went to so much trouble! did you see the whole thing in haiti, by the way? i saw it in high definition at my sister's place. there was one guy they pulled out. he was all black and blue with streaks of red. but covered in white. you can see the grain of all these colours in high definition. things you'd never see in real life. it's made to shock people. he looked like he had just come from mining cocaine in some fantasy land ruled by the mad hatter. lewis carroll. some say he was a bit of a paedophile. he had pictures of young girls doing things, apparently. there are paedos who died in the earthrumblings in haiti. that's one positive. and their grainy pictures of young girls doing things were lost in fires. that's another good thing). somewhere in the absence i met a woman. germanic. well, austrian, to be exact. i used her like a drug. she wanted to change what she saw of me. so i gave her the chance. she gave me food and shelter in return for my willingness to show improvement in what she called my condition. no clue what she meant. i stayed with her a few weeks. hot showers, dirty shouted words cracking the paint on the walls during twice-daily sex, the whole dostoevsky collection to sink in while she was away at work or after the twice-daily sex, blow jobs while watching the news (blow jobs are a way of empowering females; this, i once heard from a female claiming to be a feminist. it's a lie. blow jobs are demeaning. but so is a man taking out the rubbish once a week. or cleaning the dog. she had a dog whom i cleaned a few times. his name was oregon. what a waste of a good name on such a waste of good dog sperm.), warm food. these were the only improvements to my condition i could imagine ever needing. and they were there in abundance, for what felt like a dreamed up forever (time: strange how the whole period with miss austria fits so neatly into a few misogynistic fragments). then her ex-hubby returned and told me to go suck it. no idea what that meant either. but the boot in the arse drove the message home. so i came back home. the cycle complete and restarting and shifting on its axis. worthy movements to complement the deeper furrows in my brow. no wisdom gained. no oceans crossed on some astonishingly simple device. no stupidity lost. (time: so strange. it feels, only yesterday...) thank you for your patience, those of you who have waited. and thank the stars for accidents of fate, those who are here for the first time. let the journey rebegin...

they say

pope julius ii is referred to as the terrible pope. he seems to have loved war. he formed the holy league, at first against the venetians, and then switched sides, joined venice, fought against the french, his former allies. then venice switched sides again, joined france. all the time, spain stuck with the pope. his daughter was felice della rovere. she was powerful, influential. there were arranged marriages, as expected. she earned a fortune from her first husband, orsini, later married again. her children all married influential people. there was strife, there were battles huge and small. i met a woman named felicity over the last few weeks. this is the beginning of something.