Tea Time Rumination: Psycho Killer

Tea: It is a dark roast coffee. I need familiarity right now.

Song: It is ‘Psycho Killer‘ covered by Smoke Season again. I need familiarity right now.

Disclaimer: This is going to be a deluge of craziness, so if one ever wondered how the interior of my mind is, read this:

I just finished Nature Poem by Tommy Pico. This is not going to be a review post. I would not even know where to begin to dissect this work — in a good way, I swear —. I Just learnt it is part of a trilogy, and Nature Poem is the second one. I just ordered the first one (obligatory link here, I could not find the publisher link: for that, I apologise), and the third one comes out in a fortnight.

I had planned on writing a post on ancestry again. It came up last night as two of my non-Heathen friends are celebrating an extremely Heathen holiday, and my entangled feelings of offense, shock, hurt, and insult couple with my entangled feelings of wanting to be open, and wanting to be more understanding. This is not this post though because of the book I just finished.

What does it mean to be? I do not mean that in an attempt to be poetic, or metaphorical. I cannot even look at my computer screen easily to type. What does it mean to be?

‘I hate people when they’re not polite’, so I will assail to be polite. We brook the verb ‘to be’ quite a lot in contemporary English. Some languages do not have the copula. How is that? ‘I American’, ‘I Faggot’, ‘I Heathen’, and the like sound broken to proper English ears. They, the other languages, nevertheless, have cultures, experiences, loves, hates, and lives without it.

I, again, ask then: what does it mean to be?

I want to scream at the book that I am sorry. I just do not why. Why am I sorry? That people, not my ancestors but who look close to me, raped, pillaged, and skinned other humans? That California sounds so beautiful in the poem, but that I cannot go back for fear of being the type of person who lives five miles from where he was born?

That is one of the lines from Maid in Manhattan — I do not have the exact quote on me— that has stuck with me since I was a wee faglette. ‘I have live in a 5 block radius my entire life’ or something to the effect. That would be hell for me.

Do I want to scream because for just one second I felt something deep again? I do not mean metaphysically deep, but emotionally deep. Like when I tried meditating on Dionysus when I was stoned, I felt something deep stir.

It makes me want to write. It makes me want to create. It makes me want to be.

I, still, cannot ‘quantify’ to be though.

It makes me want to codify who I am in a new way. Not in a ‘new’ way, but in another way. I want to revisit who is J.A. Victor Wilson. I want to dive deep into the cliché ocean of emotion, and see the creepy facts that live under there.

Yet, do I want to be?

Do I want to be down there where light — a typical metaphor for ‘reason’ — cannot reach? Do I want to see the cavernous secrets?

I am a Cancer/Leo cusp — Gemini ascendent, and Scorpio Moon for those who want to know. It explains the weirdness, I know —. I used to describe my personality as an underwater cavern. It was full to the brim with water except for one cavern. That was my ‘daily’ breathing personality. The other rooms were full of sea creatures, benign or not, and they were the aspects of my personality which, for reasons, I keep hidden. They could be social unacceptable, or socially reprehensibly. They, also, could just be parts of me that do not ‘see the light of day’ often — like my insatiable love for 90s dance music —. Then, I stopped using this metaphor.

Now, it seems that I used to be right. I have caverns that need exploring.

So, thank you. I am.

-J. A. Victor Wilson

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