Nov 26 2012

i was attempting to transcribe components of a mystical visionary journey technically referred to as DAYDREAM that came to me over a period of months which began with the idea of a labyrinth that had become something of an obsession. this labyrinth passed through groves of trunks on a path that was apparent only to the embodied figure walking those grounds and as though the spaces between the trees were invisibly walled but so that when retrospectively viewed from beyond the path could no longer be perceived between those stems being concealed by something of certain obstruction. it was meant to indicate the genuine experience of being in a labyrinth but at the same time being in a world in which certain pathways are possible or even inevitable. i did not know why i was connecting with this particular imagined experience only that i was failing in its written elucidation. it was just what the daydream communicated was the experience of the figure described within it but not necessarily for any reasons relating to realworld reality.

the figure of my daydream which it pleased me to distantly identify as a form of personal self left the earth and continued traveling through this labyrinth on a skyward path. the path was somewhat apprehendable to its walker although it was realised that it had always been as such mainly by intuition. it was not a concretely apprehendable path but a path felt as though under the feet. i was afraid that the path would end and the person of my daydream not knowing anything else but to keep walking would fall from it and be broken on the world below. but the person did not fall off however continued until coming to a door in the sky looked in at the stars beyond. and looking in was spattered with thick white star stuff like paint. or if a comparison could be more apt like the chalky uncompromising opacity of bird faeces. and the reeling figure was pelted with this substance until entirely covered as though by a second skin.

having experienced this daydream i meditated on the notion that it could represent a wish fulfillment fantasy in which i might be gangbanged and subsequently covered in seminal fluids. although i think it must be a fairly unmistakable circumstance when one is so entirely covered in cum as selfevident as a silver candlestick or a dental appointment or other such irreducible fixed potentials i could not deny the possibility that this could in fact be the case.

to my absolute mortification i have been previously accused of emotional immaturity in playfully reading texts towards ideas about fucking however after thorough reflection i have understood that it is on the contrary immature to regard ideas about biological functions and fluids as having no place in art or literature where they have been ensconced as indexes of creativity for longer than we can possibly say. even excrement, the decompositional byproduct of raw creative necessity, must find its place. we need to abandon our ridiculous discomfort about discussing human procreative and other related basic bodily functions. it is eminently pertinent to address them as valid artistic concerns.

i wonder whether my daydream will continue. maybe upon stepping through the door the seeker will fall eternally through the sky. or maybe he will float? even explode. it is impossible to predict.

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