The creaking of the cart as the smoke machines fill the room with their illusions. The captains of American industry gathered in Toronto to observe
their final rites. I cling to the hand of an aging potato chip heiress as she introduces me to the spells that would transfix my soul for the next
three decades of my life.
"Lot 666 then, a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall..." I used to know this play by word I was exposed to it so often. Good thing for
fundamentalist Christians to expose their children to. What color is this? What color is that? Such an innocent and intoxicating question. It's been
all downhill from there.
I feel the need to press my fingernails, reassuring me that they are still intact. My body fluxes in a transitional state between the worlds as
electric shock dances from my skullcap down to the root of my being, exploding in a symphony of sweet agony, the likes of which I've never known
before. The phantom in his mask aches to be loved, calling us to ignore the hideousness he hides while he seduces us with his unfathomable isolation.
A mirror is drawn up and I see myself in him and he in me. I become him and the world becomes my stage. Half formed and hideous I cling to polite life
hoping that the sophisticated ones will be gracious enough not to notice my disfigurements. I do everything in my power to hide them, masking myself
from everyone, myself included. Looking at my parents will one eye bubbling out of my being, I ask them if they love me and they barely grunt their
approval, leaving me to bask in atomistic isolation and spiritual destitution. Showing me that the only way I can enjoy this world is to unfold my
fantasies about what it might become.
I run away to the monuments of our past, surrounded by distant cousins in a city of marble where the elegant statues of matriarchs pour forth their
comforting bowls of water for us to bask and heal ourselves within. Off in the corner somewhere are the shaded ones, the dragon hunters of old and I
catch them looking at me every once in awhile, and I tremble in the fear that they'll never come knocking at my door.
I am seduced and I become seducer and I am swept away and consumed by a fantasy of self so outrageous that only pervasive insanity and self-denial
could maintain it. The illusion is dispelled and yet here I remain. Where to go from here?
edit on 23-9-2014 by Nechash because: (no reason
The link to the video is not working. Somehow the words have become really vivid to me. The innocence stepping into a world controlled by big corp.
But being led by someone she trusts not even knowing at the time what this "heiress" thing would even mean. I may be stepping too far but that's how
the words spoke to me and I thank you for posting it.
Always leave them wanting more. My eldest sister called me this morning. That was an interesting conversation. I miss who I used to think she was. She
was already a teenager by the time I was born, so she was more like a second mother to me than a proper sister.
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