Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Transmissions From B.S.S.S. (Broken Shooting Star Satellites) During The Suicidal Hurl Towards Earth

Dear Heath: I only know now that you aren't my muse. You aren't my Superman. Now I know that you aren't my god or even the source of my inspiration. You are an inspiration to me nonetheless, though. So why am I crying out to you?

I'm crying out because you are nonetheless a mouthpiece for my muse. I do not travel by day, but under cover of the night. Therefore I must trust the guiding reflecting lights in the sky until I have prepared myself to face the more brilliant sun light. You're one of many pieces of a fragmented tale I am trying to remember. You are one of many things I copy and imitate in order to better learn how to birth and create. Until I can do it on my own. I won't, however, make the same mistake I usually do and mistake the model/example "thing" for the "thing-in-itself." Helpmeets are necessary supports until full flight is possible, right? Crutches are transitory instruments. There can be a virtue in a one-night-stand.

So I will give you more of my attention. I've arranged things with Turvy already; I'll take my time back because I create Turvy to kill him, and I kill him to create him. I will stop trying to force my creativity out of my memories and find my altered state of conscience in the current moment and seek the inspiration there. Because I am there. Am me. Am Turvy. Am the Flash, Am Superman. Am that lightning bolt epiphany, am that death and that life. I am you, Heath.

So I can't keep staking my hell in the past or my heaven in the future; all I have is now. All my life, I've been waiting - waiting on "that" moment, waiting for a Superman. Now, I'm gonna stop waiting. By this December, I want to have gotten farther away from the static and have found a few frequencies worth tuning into. In three months time, I'd like to be just a little more prepared and closer to the morning's light.

But if not you, then who is my muse?

I'm not sure right now, old friend. I guess we'll find out in just a moment.

Now here I go screaming wildly as I unclench my fists, open my eyes and relax for the impact.

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