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7/30/04-An urge to cough my throat clears then closes with tears my chest heaves thoughts like blowing leaves hesitantly I regard the next emotive image my nose runs indian food curries tickle my nostrils I recall new delhi amritsar julundar beas hermit caves distorted vision mirages rising air heat waves oxen team farm fields bake donkeys laden holy river silt land gurdjieff work are you sleeping no I'm awake I dreamed tumescent swimming nude with a lovely maiden her lips ripe nipples erect water snake ripples kundalini sexual energy overwhelming surge laughter release languorous slow fan gold wrapped candies sweets blessed served by the guru's own hand tart tangerines the floating body the third eye seeing yet suddenly again just sitting the pad soft beneath my rump crossed legs relaxed numb the breath slowly entering out flowing like a tide the blood coursing roaring through my head the minutes ticking by my dog sniffing at the bottom of the door my wife speaks on the run the phone kal demon's cry what was that you said...
7/19/04-On the phone yesterday pete asked me if I believe in life after death I said no that I'd come to see all spiritual experiences as strictly of this realm meaningful for each of us in a personal subjective and existential way as art is at times but with no persistence beyond the end of the brain's functioning yet I'm a complicated mess my own mentation like the body its wild cancer growths creating different uncontrolled pseudo realities and so last night out of the blue for the first time in years I had a long complex dream in which much against my wishes and to my great surprise I learned I had been secretly appointed by the former guru now just deceased to be the new master is this merely some weird wish fulfillment a schizophrenic delusion or ought I to take seriously a rare but recurrent theme over the decades despite my skepticism of any ultimate significance that I'm on a path that leads beyond the grave or have a destiny for which I must prepare in the vision of last night's slumber I was in a monastery or a similarly reclusive environment of routine habits day after day our only constant effort one of meditation long before I felt I had gained anything through such exercises the former teacher passed and while I was having thoughts of leaving this place and going off to lead a normal existence some of the other monks or disciples were conferring on whether I could be ready to assume the mantle as the guru's replacement some saying no others that it had to be given to me in any case for I must simply adjust to my new duties that then the enlightenment would unfold within me of necessity as neither they nor I now had a choice in the matter since the maharaji had decreed it before he died such utter silliness I am not a follower of the lifestream way anymore much less a believer in any path headed by a master teacher I have long been eating meat drinking the occasional spirits indulging in fantasies of wild sex with women not my wife sleeping through many of my meditation sessions wishing violence on others who thwart my intentions or show me disrespect I am hardly a good man much less anyone's idea of a guru these dreams must then just be the final proof of this that I have the gonads to imagine myself a holy being when I am actually only an aging pervert a neurotic atheist in grad school I worked on a locked mental ward a man who had stopped taking his medication was admitted one day who said he was john the baptist and proclaimed the imminent arrival of jesus christ jesus is coming jesus is coming he would endlessly shout sure enough a week later a man who called himself jesus christ was processed onto our wing and john the baptist began to worship him even JC was tempted in the wilderness by power trips there is nothing special though about any of us we tell ourselves stories it's just one way to get by till we die...
7/5/04-Well matched and like two wild beasts meeting on the plain they spar tearing at one another claws and teeth bared both aggressive neither scared raw emotion ugly as a used condom lies there between them were he to rend her clothes and smash her face he could scarcely be more enraged were she to give chase and smile as she plunged in a dagger or sued for divorce she could hardly be more wounding yet they do not cut tear strike or sue by unuttered common consent they restrict their violence to the verbal landscape and after the fracas go to their separate corners eventually with polite phrases a generous gesture an affectionate touch perhaps a spontaneous joke or two or through shared amusement at their comic canine routine interactions take their toll on the angry hormone rush the ideal couple is bound in a complex dual orbit the forces of repulsion proving weaker finally than the invisible bonds of their inertial togetherness when they meet once more in the middle of their existential ring who can say if it would be to lash out again or instead giving time for grace to comfort to dance to ever so lovingly embrace...
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