Real Weakness To cry a scream of pain and not know where it comes from, or knowing where it comes from, scream the louder - thus is the quandary I face. What weakness within would bid me toss my visions away?
July 31, 2003
What weakness and how susceptible am I? The weakness of craving 'respectability' so much that I might dull my vision, hide its results, couch it in apologetic terms, ever hoping for 'people to like me'. This is the ugliness I face.
I know this ugly demon. Say what you will of the rest of the pantheon. This is the thing that hisses and looks ugly. Because it is ugly. Anything that would make me toss truth for 'acceptance', this is ugly.
And of what susceptability have I to it? Am I still the child, craving my gramma's approval? I know I am at times.
I hear the lure of the 'easy' road, the one to which few object. And a certain Rebellious Force whom I dearly love, says ''Why didn't you pick that Other thunder god, Zeus? Or better yet, why didn't you become a Presbyterian?''
And sorrow fills me, for weakness I know it is. Say what you will, you who might disapprove of me, may honesty be my redemption in any case. Of this even YOU might find virtue.
Though this should not be my craving. To say that I NEED 'redemption', you know what 'ism' this comes from - the one in which we are all 'sinners'. Well, mistakes we do make, but of the wretched, craven kind? How willingly do we choose these?
And yet you will claim it, those who say I am in love with darkness too much, love its lure, the taste of it, the feel of it, its heady aphrodisiac of power. I am smitten, bitten, and know not the reasons for your objections.
Though I do know. 'Humankind must lower themselves so that deity can raise itself'. Crap deity that is, and I dare say it. (ducking flying projectiles of 'luv'.) Augh. Remember I am being honest here, cruelly honest, honesty may be my only salvation.
And from what would I need saving? This crap desire for the 'easy' path, yes that would be it. This crap desire for laurals from the pillars of society, who would otherwise toss painful projectiles at my Prince and Queen, to say I am painfully twisted and depraved, sunk so low to glorify such within myself.
But ugly is your world of 'humble virtue'. Surely I most willingly admit fault, honesty demands no less. But to believe myself 'low' in relation to the gods? This is a demand of only the monotheistic worship demanding prig... well I won't go any further. I won't throw urine on your diety. It is enough some professed 'artist' put your symbol in urine.
Disrespect in such base methods is just base. But naming truth in whatever strong terms it takes is simply the clear vision, nothing 'smoothed' to make it pretty, all the sharp lines just as sharp as they are, jagged and thorny.
Such is my sorrow, that I want all to like me, and this is not possible. But I name this weakness, bring it into the open that it be given the clear air of examination and not be allowed to fester.
Left to fester, it becomes a consuming disease, dis-ease, that rots all in its path. If brought into the clear light, this thing is kept small and manageable.
Here is my burden, here is my shame, that I could sell my soul for an approving word. May wariness of the weakness keep my vision pure, and my recording of it pure. Nothing else can preserve me.
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