Oct. 7, 2007

Face the Book.

There's a reason it's, er, legal

You can't turn away from your face.
And good Christ, was that a problem last night!
My face—the facade on a building in the 3-foot-square only neighborhood in which I would ever live, at the intersection of the chair that never ends or moves and is multiplied ad infinitem in more than every direction—was the connection with this reality, the pie-piece bow of a boat plowing into this isness, with everything that is I but not my face fishtailing behind in a dark nothing dimension that never be visited or seen.
Because you can't turn away from your face.
And being a being means being bolted to time-space, by your fucking face.

That's still true today, but last night I couldn't stand it. I also couldn't stand. Or talk.
And I wanted it to end.
Unfortunately, time stopped.

Desperately wishing for eternity to end (a proposal impossible by definition) is a recipe for psychosis, and

"Such psychosis is instantaneous with a fantastic new personal satan called salvia.
"Meet a chiding metaphysical absurdity so inane, yet so terrifying you'll want to die.
"And the best part is, it's still legal!"

My face is forever bolted to space.
If you can't stand connection to consciousness, if you loathe the persistence of perception, death is your only escape.
And that's pretty scary.

It was an over-affirmation of exactly the way it is.
A terrifying dose of ultra-reality so absurd yet so overwhelming.

Eternity won't end.
Usually such truisms aren't torturous.
But with your friend salvia on the case ... it's a fearsome nightmare.
Never has the mundane been so horrifying, the metaphysical so annoying—so chiding.
Never has the finite been so infinite, in the most terrible way.
A secondary bonus is the infinite multiplication of everyting (if everything is your face and up to two other items) in more than every direction.

The best thing you can say about it is that its effects wear off quickly.

Today I registered dontdosallvia.org, criminalizesalvia.org, ifyoumustjustsaynojustsaynotosalvia.org, salviamakesyouintoyourownsatan.org, didtheciacreatesalviaandpretenditcamefromoaxacanelders.org and whatthefuckareyouthinkingsmokingsalviayoucrazyfucks.org.

That's right, suckers, all taken.

To recap, my face is forever bolted to space.
But it's not that bad.
For now.


SIDEBAR:





Since eternity finally resumed never ending last night, I've weighed quippy ledes for a narration of the most terrifying psychological/physiological/geometric experience of this lifetime.

Some stabs:
"Good Christ!"
"Hokey fucking doke!"
"!" (most accurate of the three, pronounced with jaw dropped—but, like the first two, easily misconstrued as positive)

Try again:

"It lasted for eternity for about six seconds."
"Things are exactly the same, but I'm so glad they're over."
"You're really fucked when all you want is eternity to end."
"You're really fucked when all you want is eternity to end and time isn't moving and never will."

Eh. Too mumbo-jumbo metaphysical hippy. But it's unavoidable here.
Keep trying:

"Just what I needed. Instant psychosis."


That pretty much sums it up.
But the face. The face:

"My face is forever bolted to space."

There we go.

Settled on:

"You can't turn away from your face."

So true.