Writing 50,000 Words Of Prose In A Month?

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Sometimes the stuff I wanna learn requires that I go about it differently than I normally would, because I have to imitate and mimic the behavior and mannerisms of people who already know what I wanna know. One of the most difficult parts is the bejinning. Yeah, I meant to write "bejinning" instead of beginning. Thus illustrating my point above.

Obversely, by looking at these people I find out later I'm going to want to model in order to git something they got, I can't afford to condemn anybody before I get to know what they got I might want later, and that makes my future apprenticeship more difficile than it has to be.

It's gotten to where I hate to make a statement of certainty about any one thang because that might offend somebody whose cooperation I might need in that future I-am-is will use to work its way from the crowded, smelly seats up in the balcony to the center ring down below.

This is where the bejinning co-me-s into play. The bejinning is a constant state one can learn to fall in and out of without a conscious need for intention to stay steady on with merely one ongoing project. Can you spell m-u-l-t-i-t-a-s-k-i-n-g? Obviously then, the teaching is about trust, and how I-am-is don't ring it's bell by kowtowing to the dictates of the other. It rings for me... and... thee.

My I-am-is needs an audience because it needs confirmation that It-is-me (which, paradoxically speaking, it is and it is not. What a drag, man.) When I use the hyphenated term "I-am-is", I may be referencing a self-generated urge to power. IT can't happen without both me and thee, and what happens in real time when we each provide the other with a witness to each I-am-is's need for feedback.

Man, this is some crazy, tossed-word salad. I attempt to describe how IT takes both me and thee to make me-and-ing (meaning). As in the Biblical saying, "Where there are two or more together, there am I." I.E. , I-am-is.

The spirit or Christos is something that co-me-s into being as the result of the relationship we form by being in each others company. What we each gnow via our personal, subjective gnosis becomes known by the mere presence of the other. We gnow thangs about each other that we don't yet know. To gain knowledge of the other requires sacrificing the exclusivity of our personal gnosis in favor of giving our mutual presence me-and-thee-ing.

I love tossing words in the air to discover how they'll taste in their new configuration. This lust for what lies beyond me-and-thee-ing reaches deep into my soul all the way to the pearl of great price. That's why it's so expensive. I have had to pay through my ass to sit nakid in it's light.

It's a two-way street from my point of view. For the longest ti-me I thought I had to pay through my nose, and I do. But, the art of breathing can take a long ti-me to assess because it's subject to allergies of every sort.

The startling results of learning it, however, can be ascertained by any couple who has used the Lamaze Method of childbirth. In such a critical situation, the I-am-is and it's claim to fame becomes unified more under the auspices of gnosis rather than knowledge. "It's your fault, you.... bastard! You got me this way. Your child is trying to kill me." What? This child is the meaning of our sharing gnosis?

Obviously, the problem with paying through my ass required me to gnow, rather than to know, when I-am-is fulla shit. This angst happens too close to the perineum in proximity (or by proxy?). The perineum is considered by some cultures to represent the holiest spot in the human body. The root chakra. Breath is the vehicle by which one recognizes the connection between the root chakra and the crown chakra that travels via the eighth cranial nerve. Its not the only way information passes to and fro from heaven to the depths of the river Styx.

METAMORPHOSES

I dig my Self,
I-am-is a beautiful thing.
Its an addition to the whole
that is me.
For without my Self,
I could be no thing else,
without mi Me,
the world couldn't be.

So, I walk down the street
with a gleam in my eye,
and a definite "Go to hell!" look.
For the knowledge I've got
comes from gnowing myself,
and it doesn't come outta no book.

My emotions I feel,
and my feelings I gnow,
and that rapport,
is thicker than smoke.
I-am-is the outside in,
and the inside out,
and "Fuck you,
if you can't take a joke."

felix manos peregrino ~ June, 1969
Edited Today -> ad infinitum

855
I am perfectly aware that there are lots of other ways of learning what one needs to know to survive in a style to which they can become accustomed. Personally, however, I can't ken how they can do it if they don't have poetry they wrote as a child. I don't have much of that phase of my life around me now in my dotage. I burned most of it. Anything I could grab and toss in the fire once I got a good blaze going. It's only graven images.

The poetry I did keep was written during the period of my remembering vision, and most it was tossed or burnt or given away to the people I wrote it about or for. I've hardly written any poetry since I got together with the woman who was to become my second wife. She began writing poetry and I stopped.

There are people who have collected as much as they can of my poetry, but I made sure it was scattered all around because I was kind of scattered and all over the place myself in those days. It intrigued me just now to go through the small pile of poetry I have managed to keep because of how it related to my recent adoration of the term "paradox".

A woman I used to correspond with used paradox a lot. I wasn't sure if I knew what she meant, and so I not only looked it up in the dictionary, but did a web search for the etymology of it to look for root sources. I've used the term intentionally throughout my writing to drill it into my lexicon of frequently used words.

The poem I wrote above is one of the last poems I wrote during the period after my remembering vision and when I first got together with the woman who took over that part of my life for me. It was specifically designed to move me to another way of looking at life and it did. The most remarkable part about that was that this poem was an experiment that worked so powerfully I became sore afraid.

I me-more-d that poem specifically to repeat it over and over again. I had a goal in re-member-ing it through repetition and redundancy. I needed for it to be-co-me so familiar to me that it would bring contempt in it's train. From the spiritual to the mundane and back again. That's how children do it. To do it I must become a child again. Be-co-me-ing my own child again allows adult supervision. Good luck with that if you try it. The price is merely all yo' abstract possessions.

"Inch by inch, it's a cinch." ~ AU

The closer the date comes for the Novel-in-a-month contest, the more I worry about not writing novelistically. I don't know how to contain wot I have to say to other people's expectations. I really wouldn't mind doing it. I would if I already knew how and could just formalize a process that I had encapsulated by visualization. You know, like I'm doing now.

The header at the top of my blog was put there to announce in some formal way that I have decided that it's not my job to determine the veracity of the drifting thoughts I attempt to capture with words. It would be quite futile and useless because I don't know what's true and what's false.

My intellectual faculties run broad and deep, but that profundity is gained at the expense of speed. I can't catch the drifting thoughts with words and figure out whether my prey measures up to my various readers judgment. I might could please one, but not at the same time I reach for meaning for-the-other.

I can't figure out when I'm telling the truth or a lie, much less what a listener might hear me saying. I just touch type my way through the dreams that caches my interest in the moment. I'm trying to render comprehensible something that's imperceivable. It's not easy being a target of scorn, but it's just too much fun to stop the madness. 1555

Oh, goody, I've written 1555 words. I can stop and get something to eat now. I was perfectly willing to stop at 855 words, but I needed 700 more to meet the daily goal of the Novel contest. Worshiping graven images is about projection and is thus self-worship. I'll probably go to Hell for this.
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