Tag: rambling

I feel like death, the light is cold, and I am cold. I am losing my voice. I remember when the fever dreams were strange and marvelous, I don’t know why they aren’t anymore. Instead I have an all singing all dancing chorus of worries and aches. Is this funny? This is meant to be funny. Please God, let this be funny otherwise it’s too depressing and pretentious for words

Note: Sometimes I make posts connecting really odd things, not because I think they are in fact connected, but because I think the way I’ve managed to relate them is entertaining and “ooh isn’t that a fun idea” 

Like I have a whole long patter about rock n’ roll and the idea of the arcane nature of feminine sexuality, and how breasts and dicks are symbolically similar, and it’s a fun train of association, but it’s not actually universal truth, it’s just a fun series of ideas to play with.

Little Edie and Big Edie and Laura and Amanda: Lonely Crazy Women With Crazy Mothers Whose Husbands Have Buggered Off

I don’t know why they chill me to the bone.  No, that’s a lie, I do but I can’t articulate it completely.  My fucked relationship with my southern mother, my delicacy, my general weird uncomfortableness in the world, the endless failure to understand one another between me and my mother, my years failing to understand even basic parts of taking care of myself.  I’m mostly an adult now, thank god, thank god.

Is my mommy kink partially eroticized fear of being alone with my mother?  Almost certainly.

Is it also a desire to have a relationship with a maternal figure with whom I can actually communicate?

Yes.

Is it my fear of stagnation in a state of adolescent dependence?

Possibly

Women without men, women without men is a theme that comes up both in my horror stories and my erotica. 

 Is it my fear of being left alone without one of the men I know and trust to act as a shield between me and the unrelenting viciousness of patriarchy?  

Certainly. 

 The result of the traumatic isolation of time spent at all girls school? Probably.  

Actually even Margaret White and her telekinetic daughter Carrie repeat the theme and are an erotic touch stone for me (and actually if you think about it Carrie is sort of the Glass Menagerie minus Tom and plus telekinesis.)

Is it my desire to escape into a realm of the arcane feminine, a realm that I felt oddly cut off from? 

Yes

Is it that for me sexual desire is something that occurs within the pink and ruffled confines of the feminine boudoir and that for me masculinity is the antithesis of sexuality?

Yes

Is it my fear of being left alone with my mother without the protective buffer of my father?
Absolutely

Is there something very, very, very wrong with me?

Yes.

Cockatrices make sense as a symbol for my weird Adam/Mary Eve/Christ parallel thought

They’re from the eggs of roosters, incubated by serpents (like the serpent of knowledge) which through their blending of the corporeal and divine create a powerful being.  Also a lot of penises, I mean they’re the progeny of a cock and a snake, it doesn’t get much more phallic than that
Actually basilisks might be better, it’s a snake’s egg (the seed of knowledge) incubated by a rooster (as Adam incubated the divine seed of knowledge that was Eve, put inside him by Sophia or the true god or Sophia as part of the true god) and then it becomes the king of serpents or an embodiment of wisdom in the imperfect physical world.

Also I keep seeing Gnostic ideas about how Eve is only Adam’s equal if god made her out of clay too, but then it seems contradictory to me that Christ should be his mother’s superior, because Eve is also in a symbolic child of the union of human and god, rather than a base creation of clay, she is a refinement of a refinement, and the daughter of a union between the mortal imperfect material and the true god (much like Christ), she would be less removed from the divine, not more.

God I love rambling about this.

Also if you think about the chicken and the egg question in this particular light, you realize that the rooster (an earthly animal, they almost never symbolize a divine anything) comes first, lays the cosmic symbolically rich egg (which are often symbols for the birth of the universe, fertility in general and basically are clearly divine) and the unnatural liminal state of the rooster being a mother allows for the supernatural and holy nature of the egg (like a virgin birth) which allows the egg to hatch the mystical and life giving universal and original hen, who in turn gives birth to all mundane chickens thereafter.

It’s late and I’m enjoying this too much, but I just love the perfect (and yet utterly unprovable and obviously loopy) internal consistency of the logic.