Help me
There's no light in the hall. There's no glimmer, no ray, no fickle beam wondering across the far wall, spilling a tiny bit of the old ambient, enabling a body to gain some form of perspective one his or her place in the world. There is nothing. There is just darkness.
Or not, I mean darkness is a sort of something really, isn't it. I know people who can take great comfort from the dark. Great comfort, greater warmth. Not here, because there is no light, and you cannot have any dark without the light.
There's no sound here either. None at all. Normally you need something like the quietly subdued frantic chirping of a cricket (or cicada) to measure the absence of sound. You have to have these contrasts to truly appreciate what you are comparing. Nothing here. The quiet is like a roar, you could insert some clichÃ(c) about the silent jungle waiting for the predator to strike, only you'd have to be way more interested in the silence than I really am to bother.
You see there is feeling here. Oh yes.
Emptiness. Great emptiness soaks the very floorboards. Emptiness rules here. A tyrannical hold extended over the tactile sense. Stabbing, biting, pricking hurting. Tiny little shallow cuts of nothing renting your flesh.
And cold. There is such cold here. it's so cold that it hurts. Like having a wart dry-iced at the Doctors. Burning, without the unpleasant bacon smell, which is frankly a relief, because this places smells rather faintly, and pleasantly, like flowers. Oh and honey, I'll let you have some honey as well, because I am kind like that.
At least I think it's flowers and honey. It's nice, I can tell you that much cookie.
Even so, you want to go home.
This place exists inside all of us (I think, it's a bit like the white hot room or whatever that Morrision chap was going on about). This is a rather nasty trick played on us on behalf of our creator (who is, of course yourself ultimately, so you have no-one else to blame), but can be a boon. Or so I'm told.
Personally I'm a greater fan of blowing the fuck out of it.
Here's how. Take one tequila. That's ONE tequila, no more, certainly no less. Do not add salt and lemon, as that's for pussies. Consume tequila.
Take another tequila. Again that's ONE tequila, no more. Do not add salt and/or lemon. Consume.
If you are doing things right, then the white hot room should be whiter and hotter now. This is because alcohol is a depressant, which is a bit of an arse all round really.
What I want you to do is drink through the depressed threshold, until the mind is blind with agony. This is called "alcohol poisoning" and/or "brain damage". No fear, it is perfectly normal. Everyone has a little bit of damage that they carry around with them (most people call this "baggage") why not make it brain damage? The brain has always been one of my favorite organs, after the confusing and often misunderstood appendix.
A correctly damaged brain can mean many things, but most importantly it will result in the destruction of the white hot room, or interesting redecoration of it at any rate. If you are really, really lucky you might have a breakdown, which is when the walls in the room crack, shedding light on everything that's in there.
Which is unfortunately yourself, but hey... we can't all have everything...
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go and enjoy my little breakdown. Get to really know myself, and maybe, just maybe... maybe I'll get some sleep then.
[composed and posted with ecto]
Comments
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Did you loose it on the way in? Left it at the door or something?
Posted by: Des | January 3, 2006 2:01 PM