Monday, October 26, 2009

Experimental Blog....Is there really such a thing? And are the dimensions of love not where you think they are?



I am caught in a vortex.
Still thoughtful over a woman who was either a stone psycho
or another writer who was trying to help--
to suggest to me that I had to suspend my belief in ordinary reality, if I were to enter a world of illusion, mystery and suspense. The world of fiction. And that world was she. She was the fiction, she was the book. She should have been my novel. She should have have been my project. She was he wild mare that I had to ride on my way to authentic artistry.

I think that S, as another writer (and gorgeous woman), wanted me to understand that the "specialness" of relationships was not really held in the place that we tend to think it is, nor does i manifests itself in the way that we wish. Love is not what we think it is and unfortunately can sometimes only be gain it through situations that we would otherwise find abhorrent.

"What do you know of love, you who has read Plato?" She had asked when she finally seemed to have had enough of a stubborn mustang who came off more like a mule.
At the time, to enter a relationship with a married woman who all the while had still another besides me, and not her husband --I found abhorrent.

So I chickened out.
I wished I hadn't now, after all these years.
Some important juncture had been missed.
Or was she just trying to get me into a Hotel California situation:

Her mind is definitely twisted
She's got the Mercedes Benz.
"She's got a lot of pretty boysthat she calls here friends.


Or, more prosaically, was she just plain gay?

The world of illusion, mystery and suspense. The world of fiction. This, she perceived me striving for.
Or was her mind "definitely twisted" and I was the poor Cossack hung up on a rock by a Rusalka, a Loreli.
There had been no wisdom here.
I felt myself a tree in whose bark barbed wire had been ingrown. The tree absorbed the the wire, barbs and all-- grew all around it.
So it seems with unsolved problems, conundrums.
I suppose if you want to be Jesus, you have to absorb the spike.
Or, in the language of Burrohghs, was it a spike that she was on and did she expect me to get hung up as well?

##

9 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

I've always wanted my fiction to twist reality. I live reality. I don't need to read it too.

ivan said...

Charles,

Honesty.

Myself something of a cancelled Czech at love,
I think I have been too much influenced by the by now vintage movie, following the novel,
The Incredible Lighness of being. by Milan Kundera.

I myself wrote a novel about unrequited love, The Fire in Bradford, and had it rejected possibly because the plot was too thin. It was one- way: Boy chases girl, girl tells him to eff-off. But boy was already married. Maybe boy could not take up another life.

Says old Greek Parmenides,
in real life you can only go the one way. You can't live two lives.
Otherwise there is this lightness of being
Either through wisdom or pure cowardice, the boy goes off with a vision of the Unattainable One in his head and spends the rest of his days alone, dreaming of, idolizing the idea of his urequited love. Which, I suppose, is beautiful, but stupid.
Aw well. Cancelled Czech.
But more Greek, I think.
That damned Parmenides.

the walking man said...

What love are you looking to define? Some ass, some mental connection or the spiritual union? I personally am confused by love.

ivan said...

Mark, I probably had a "chemical romance"; I was a sounding board for her to talk to while she was on the spike. Every addict needs a sounding board, a mirror for a kind of personal sanity.
And her problem was at the same multiple lovers, which, I suppose was Milan Kundera's "heaviness" all around, , which results on lighness of a being mired in the heaviness of multiple relationships at the same time.
Burroughs says if you live with somebody on the spike, you'll probably take up the spike yoursef.
She had said something about our love being "spiritual"... That was somehow hard to stomach with two other guys banging her.
I parachuted.
But I had been in love, and I'm still confused over it all.

Mona said...

Yeh ishq nahin aasaan bas itnaa samajh leeje/ ek aag ka dariya hai aur doob ke jaana hai!

( Love is no game, just know this/ its a river of fire, which you need to swim 'underwater' to reach across)

ivan said...

Mona,

That is profound.

...and probably answers part of Mark's queston.

ivan said...

Wow, Eric. Thanks and hello stranger!

I came across some nice people in Arkansas, quite by accident...Actually somebody plowed into my car and I had to stay in a motel for a while and came acrosss this really cool guy named Orville who introduced me to the town and his family, and they showed me some real Southern hospitality. Arkansas folk seem really nice people, up against it, but give you the shirt off their backs. I guess you are getting acclimatized.
Well. Sounds like a feather in your cap over there. In charge of much and now a DJ...Writers are durn versattile people, aren't they. Over here too, jack of all trades and sort of good at a couple...Meanest delivery driver in the valley. Flash Courier, speedy mercurial figure. The other job description is demagogue.
Heh. Social activist, freelance politician. Emcee introduces me at events as an "outspoken writer."

Like in the Apochrapha. "Whatever thy hand finds to do..."...Well, you're beholding there, under the sun. Joseph in Egypt, and way to go.
Thank you for the kind words and, as I've said elsewhere, keep the aspidistra flying!

JR's Thumbprints said...

I'm not into complicating my life, I try to keep it simple. Sadly enough, it shows in my writing.

ivan said...

Jim,

Better a writing enthusiasts than a madman.

Looking ack ove my own life, I think I should have been content to stay safely neurotic, to only just build literary castles in the air,instread of the psychotic, the wannabee who moves right into the castles in the clouds-- and durn near lose his brains.