I was given a book to review last-minute right before Hurricane Sandy. As can be expected the storm completely screwed up my schedule and I have been staying up late for the last few nights working on this review.
I finally handed it in at 7:30 AM Saturday morning working through night. While I was working on this review I got comment that made me stop thinking about the social and historic factors of colonial rule in west Africa that contributed to the rise of a transnational religious and spiritual movement towards the latter half of the 20th century, so I figure I would talk on it here.
The Comment & My Response
It seems from the comments recently some of you were happy to hear from the actor behind the persona and that is flattering and a little scary. Scary because we are constantly creating ourselves. Borges one of my main literary influences has said:
“I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities I have visited.”
As being a blogger indirectly testifies, I am still reading, still meeting people, still falling in and out of love with the ladies that cross my path to stay long enough to share a moment however many years months days and hours that moment lasts. As long as we are focused on living, on continuing onwards seeking words and loves – the raw materials from which we will build an existence of sorts – we cannot comment on whatever it is we are which also means that once we can utter a few words about our state we can be certain we have lost the thread that will lead us out of the labyrinth of self-identification.
So we are all paupers in a way moving from makeshift home to makeshift home, skirting and dancing around a mystery and that’s were I have lived and continue to live since I was younger, in that gray area where words obscure often time more than they inform where silence speaks in louder volumes than speech however refined and elevated.
So what can I tell you about myself?
I don’t like to be served or have anyone make a fuss over me even when I am quite sick. I don’t like insects especially roaches and will kill them with ferocity when a lady asks me too or when they are insolent enough to think that they could share the same space I inhabit. I do not mind mice because enough of them ran over me when I used to sleep on the floor in my younger days. I think friendship is sacred and that is all I can stomach saying about myself. I like non sequitor kinda stuff?
I would much rather leave you with a quote and pictures of me fucking around NYC, not literally just figuratively.
Sometimes we’re intellectuals, sometimes we’re crazy we’re bewildered…just bewildered … headless, footless, nothing in our pockets, worthless drunkards… Though sometimes we’re revealed sometimes concealed Sometimes earth-like we’re abased and debased Sometimes sky-like were exalted and transcendent…In the Tavern of Ruin we have fallen beyond all religion or infidelity after drain after up after cup of Wine…
Some weirdo 14th century Mystic
I figured now and then I would write some things directly and put it somewhere on this mess of a blog. If there is something you want to know ask, Maybe I should do one of those reddit style AMA (As me Anything) I don’t know, who knows I’m going to stop the writing and drinking now