First Encounters

Just had to pass this one along! Wish I could find a tie like that...
At any rate, I did something I never thought I would do- read Aleister Crowley. The now-deceased 20th century occultist was, history relates, creepy and personally repellent, but does seem to have known his occult studies inside and out. I encountered the Crowley-Thoth tarot deck, renowned for its symbolism. Overall, not a deck for beginners, but the symbolism of the deck is really rather brilliant. The Major Arcana have a few changes from those most readers would be used to- as a for example, the Judgement card is replaced by Aeon, and Temperance is replaced by Art. However, the complex symbols on each card bear examination, and can actually convey the multiple levels of meaning in each card. The deck goes the route of some of the older Tarot decks, where number cards are simply a stylized representation of the number and suit. However, the cards bear a simple one-word explanation of each, which could be limiting, but actually sheds light on the meaning of each card, being more than anything else a direction to point you in in interpreting the card. As a for example, the Six of Swords is labeled simply as "Science", and this trend of abstract terms both defines and allows freedom of interpretation in the cards. While the cards seem strange and esoteric, they do fit together, and this would make a good companion deck for someone familiar with traditional Tarot decks.

Corpus Animus

Last night was an odd one for me- once again plagued by weird dreams. In this case it was a dream of riding on a 5-ton truck- actually on the trailer hitch. But this wasn't in itself strange, I've stood on trailer hitches before, just never while the truck was moving. At any rate, this dream was strange because my right hand had been missing. Not really a problem, as I had learned a way to graft the body parts of the recently dead into and onto my own body. So the hand I had was not originally my own, more a kind of makeshift one- it was larger than my original hand, and evidently I had seen fit to replace the internal parts (bones, tendons and nerves) before putting skin over it. My hand was criss-crossed with stitches of a heavy black thread, holding a patchwork of skin onto the hand. It didn't quite fit right, and would occasionally shift around, producing a sensation I won't relate here, as it was far from pleasant. Discussing the hand with some of my fellow trailer hitch riders, I told them that swapping out organs was no more difficult than replacing a carburetor. In waking life, I've never had to replace a carburetor, either. But I remember saying that the one thing I wouldn't do was replace a brain- too complicated and too dangerous. Besides, there would be about a billion nerve connections that would need to be replaced. The brain and spinal cord can be seen as the seat of consciousness and will- motion in the body originates in one of these two places, either deliberate or reflex. (Reflexes are in the spinal cord- apparently a shorter distance for the nerve signals to travel). At any rate, the brain is also in many ways the seat of consciousness.
So now we get into the symbolism of the dream- the hand missing and replaced was the right hand- symbolic of the conscious mind and willpower. (the left hand is considered symbolic of intuition and the subconscious mind). The fact that it was replaced and grafted on tells me of a need for change in the way I relate to the world, or perhaps a new perspective on how I'm getting things done. It could be something as simple as changing a habit, or something along those lines. The fact that I could change out organs tells me of a pervasive change, one that goes "deep inside" me. The fact that I'm doing this, rather than having it done to me, tells me that I'm in charge of my own destiny, my own outcomes- else it would be someone else performing this radical and invasive surgery on me. Surgery carries a strong Freudian connotation of thanatos, destruction or death, so perhaps it's a message of either self-destruction or tearing down to build up again. I like the latter better. The fact that it was less than a pleasant experience points to the fact that change is not always pleasant, but when it comes, it's almost necessary, so we should learn to deal with them as best we can. Apart from that, it could be that I just have an overly morbid and gruesome imagination. Then again, dreams tend to be filtered through the imagination and symbolic lexicon of the dreamer, so perhaps both are true.

Alchemy Saturdays at The Surrealist Sportsmen's Club

After all, even insects are supposed, by some, to dream... Here's a few recurring images that seem to be stuck in my head. The first is from the Halloween Tarot, a pretty cool deck largely derivative of the Rider-Waite deck, like so many others out there. It's cute and in many cases funny, though. Can't say as I've used it, but have seen the images and the people who have have given it positive reviews. The second image is, as the name suggests, Death. This comes from the Vertigo Tarot, of which I am a big fan. It's a little on the dark and gloomy side, and puts one in mind of black-dyed hair, torn clothes and black lipstick, but apart from that is extremely effective at evoking an immediate and strong response. The card shows the comic book character (the deck is based on various comic books published under the Vertigo label) Death, a young, optimistic woman who is in fact Death, taking human form to walk among her (victims?) and remain grounded, so she doesn't lose touch with what it is to be human and mortal. She's actually a very heartwarming character, and though life and death pretty much continue on as usual, in some weird way you feel a little more optimistic. At any rate, this image depicts Death as the young woman she becomes in the comic book, holding a flower- you can't see the smile that's more than likely on her face, but her eyes seem to sparkle with some secret she's just itching to share, some wonderful truth, symbolized by her blue rose, which she holds like something precious. This is actually an interpretation of the Tarot card Death, which deals with change- could this change be something wonderful, and precious? Note that in the more traditional R-W deck, Death, shown by the armored figure on the 'pale horse' almost seems to be being welcomed by the clergyman standing before him, and we see on the ground kings and peasants falling before him, while Death rides like a conquerer, which I suppose is accurate. Death, and the change it represents (remember that there's not always a literal interpretation to the cards) can be a kind and wonderful thing, bringing us out of stagnation into a much-needed new paradigm.

The third picture is courtesy of Mike Davis, an artist with Metal Ink, a tattoo studio in Los Angeles. Not that I've ever been to LA, the closest I've been is Roseville, south of LA, but the picture is an interesting one. My random thought for today, notice that the structure of the skeleton is female. I read a lot of symbolism into this, mostly based on my own ideas. The skeleton has a birdhouse for a head- perhaps symbolizing (bad pun alert) flights of imagination, or perhaps a kind and giving nature- a birdhouse is an act of kindness, as no one really knows the character of the birds that will take up residence there- they could be the avian Manson family, for all we know. Nonetheless, there's an element of optimism in a birdhouse- that the birds will, by this act of kindness, have a great life. The skeleton leans on a crutch and has arrows stuck in its birdhouse, indicating that perhaps not everything always comes up roses- life shoots arrows at us sometimes. Wasn't it in Hamlet that Shakespeare wondered if it's better to suffer the arrows and slings of fate? Some words to that effect, at any rate. The skeleton wears a rather large watch, perhaps indicating that no one is immune to time, and all things are subject to change. This too, will pass, as I once read. There's a butterfly that the skeleton appears to be directing its attention towards, perhaps waving goodbye to. Down here in the south we get butterflies in droves- I can recall back in basic, pulling guard duty out on a field mission, sweaty, covered in dirt and generally not very comfortable, when a butterfly landed on my rifle barrel, not the least concerned. So I reached out and the butterfly hopped onto one finger, seemed to look at me for a while with interest, and then left. It was a moment to remember, if only for its odd simplicity. At any rate, I think the skeleton is having a similar "butterfly moment". It could be that the skeleton is trying to feed the butterfly to the snake wrapped around her arm, but I'd like to be a little more optimistic. Which brings us to the snake- what's the symbolism of that? It appears to be ready to strike, but at the same time, almost seems tame. Snakes, I've found, will wrap around anything warm (had to catch a couple now and then) because they like the warmth of human beings. So it could be that the snake is there because he enjoys the symbolic 'warmth' of this kind and gentle skeleton, yet like most of us, retains a dual nature- woe to he who trusts in the tameness of wolves, as I also once read. Yes, I know it's a snake, but you get the idea.
So what does all this relate to in a broader sense, these strange images? Well, apart from that they've been stuck in my head, they all seem to point to a common theme- Il est qu'il est- it is what it is. Life is what it is, which is what we make of it. Well, it made sense when I thought of it, anyway. Don't drink the Tenafly Viper, and remember, for better or worse life truly is what you make of it.

Undo Redo

Today was the day of much concertina wire. This particular wire, somewhat of a cross between barbed wire and razor wire, is a pain in the butt to move. It comes in big coils, and resembles razor wire. (Looks like someone took chicken wire and stuck straightedged razor blades along the sides). While pointed, the edges are not sharp. However, concertina wire is designed to snag anything and everything that tries to go across it- devastating to a vehicle, immobilizing and uncomfortable for a person. We use it to define areas you're not supposed to drive or walk through, or to create a chute for vehicle checkpoints. And today my stalwart crew had to move 20 rolls of it, each roll about 50 pounds. Word of advice- concertina wire plus uniform is a sure recipe for disaster.

But we got it done with a minimum of damage, and now are prepared for a field exercise coming up in November, which I'm looking forward to, as long as I don't have to drive that beat-to-hell truck I'd been driving all week. Again, said stalwart crew was drafted to haul hot food to the field, and did an exceptional job as always. The truck had just about everything wrong with it that could be wrong and keep it from being deadlined, that is, deemed incapable of use. But we made it through, managed not to destroy the damn thing, and generally supported the battery in the field.
So it is indeed the Halloween season, well, for most people. For me, hell, it's Halloween every day! As anyone who reads this regularly will know, I love Halloween, the costumes, the haunted houses, and the fact that so many of us are kids at heart. It's my hope someday to do on Halloween what some people do on Christmas- then again, I think it's a good idea to keep up Halloween decorations all year round (you should have seen my barracks room- inspection was always a fun day). But really, after consideration, I find in Halloween the joie de vivre so often lacking- the only day you have is today, is the philosophy I try to live by. That being the case, make the most of it, and make it what you want. Either that or I'm completely nuts and have a macabre streak a mile wide. That's a possibility too. But on the other hand, I love kids, and kids always seem to have a blast on Halloween, and I have a blast making sure they have a blast. Further details in this developing story will be forthcoming, or something like that. At any rate, watch out for the Tenafly Viper, and stay sane inside insanity, my friends.

San Angelo, And How Not To Get There

Quite a surprise
What an ingenious device
Boredom encompasses my time
I don't know what I should do
-Les Claypool, Southbound Pachyderm

Today was an interesting day so far. First, I wake up early. This isn't in itself that unusual. But today I woke up early to go with my roommate to San Angelo. San Angelo is in the legendary state of Texas, which I'm always interested in seeing. My experience with Texas so far has been a gas station and the Dallas airport (changed planes there a couple times). So I was interested to see more of Texas, which, it turns out, is a good deal like Oklahoma- lots of ranch land. We were heading southwards, when all of a sudden the Ford Expedition we were in (not mine) began to wail like a banshee- fan belt, I thought. Then it stopped running. Not the fan belt, I thought- serpentine belt? So we wound up on the side of the road, where some helpful cows speculated on the situation and probable cause by mooing. While we appreciated the input, cows are not known for their mechanical prowess, so we took it with a grain of salt. We called a tow truck, as we had made it about 20 minutes south of Wichita Falls. So there we were, waiting for the truck to come, while I wandered around taking pictures of big spiders to send to my fiancee. Why I'm obsessed with spiders is a question I can't answer- they are pretty cool though, and tend to get big down south. Completely harmless, at least as far as I know. Generally best to leave them be, and observe from a distance. At any rate, cows and spiders aside, the tow truck came. We determined that it was not in fact any visible belt, (turned out to be a fuel pump problem) and continued along our way towards Lawton. While we went down the road, the tow truck had a double blowout on two of the back tires. This wasn't as bad as it sounds, as they were on the same side- the truck had dual tires on the back axle. I witnessed a feat of ingenuity- to remove the wheels, the truck driver just used the hydraulic lifting mechanism on the tow truck- it was one of the flat-bed types, which extend down and to the rear, and then back up to secure the towed vehicle. The tires were completely destroyed, and one rim was bent! It was a pretty incredible sight to see, even if it did mean once again we were stuck on the side of the road. The tires were retreads, which are not quite the demon everyone seems to think they are- the problem is, they need to remain inflated to the correct pressure, otherwise the retreads tend to separate from the tire. From the damage to the tires, it looked like they had been underinflated, causing some damage, but more importantly, meaning that the two tires rubbed against each other, creating friction, which means one of two things- either an explosive blowout, or a tire fire. So in some sense, we got off pretty easy on that one. It was just one more in a comedy of errors, it seems. But luckily, no one was hurt, and I learned a good deal about tow trucks, and how to put a tire on a rim, not that this really occurs on a regular basis during my job, or outside of it.
So back we went, after getting the tire replaced with another roadside assistance vehicle, and came back to Lawton. And that, as they say, was that.
Apart from that, we're still hashing out the living situation, and 'upgrading' the apartment to a two- bedroom. Moving up in the world, it seems. Actually, the place is getting a little cramped, even with the fact that the two of us don't really take up that much space. Still, a little extra space would be most welcome.

When It Unwinds

So, decided once again to try my hand writing poetry, one of the great cliches of the modern day, I'm afraid. Good poetry should, I've always felt, be like good music- nothing excess, nothing lacking. Use the words you need, and leave out the extras. So this particular somewhat-film-noir blank verse was more or less a first draft, based on watching too many episodes of Twin Peaks, but that is a kickass song in Fire Walk With Me-at any rate, here goes-

When It Unwinds

So this is where sometimes
You see yourself, and then, perhaps
there's an indication of your smile at the corner of your lips
and even then your eyes are almost pale blue like the night
something happened, but the recall is gone
Apart from a cry of horns, saxophones fed by the breath of masked-face men
and coming home to a dozen missed calls like a hundred accusations
Sometimes there it's a world of illusion that makes you think tomorrow will never come
(because it'll never get here)
Yet the whole of the mystery is explained
in the glass tube of neon, fuzzy-edged when you stare so close you go damn near blind
where an electrical current buzzes cold
perhaps the current that winds through
all the changing lights from here to there and back again
But it's just a sign that says Red Stripe, and you think
Damn, that sounds good
this is, or at least was
a dream- because tomorrow, the sun rising again
(Will never get here)

I'll admit, I'm a little rusty, but hope that wasn't too terrible! Take care, everyone