Tower of Brahma 56 Fuck Philly Fight NYC (edit)
(commentary)
Written in Philly's airport, totally jet-lagged and sleepy, having watched most of Pushing Daises on the flight across the Atlantic. The thing is everything in the normal world is like an adventure to me. I have such crazy anxiety that one of the easiest ways of trying to cope with the influx of information is to fictionalize a portion of it, let it play out in my mind as the scene itself takes place, but in neither am I as active a participant as I would like to be.
I just have a thing for secret agents. Superspy enlightenment wrapped in poetic prose pulp fiction paperback adventures. That's what this book is, as well as a social crutch I used for years, a form of therapy, a reminder of what I was trying to do. The problem came, and still comes, from my blending reality & fantasy into a cohesive world, as now it's blurred the lines between what I'm writing and what's being written, either by me or a divine being though I prefer to see it as tapping into the wavelengths of what is being processed by the Universe.
The girl I had been dating and I broke up just after Halloween of the year before, and now, three months later she was institutionalized for cutting herself. I never did find out if they knew the full extent of her self-destructive behavior, but by the time I was calling 911 because she called me and start cutting, I knew full well just how dark things had gotten. It was comforting in a way, I knew it wasn't me. I don't know they're crazy when I meet them, but they certainly do like to take it out on me.
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