a moment that was only to find explanation by accident, much later. or possibly not by accident at all.

during the practice session, a group of three was to speak to the fourth while seated in a quadrilateral formation, facing one another. one person was to be the "conductor", setting the pace of the session and leading the fourth person into an altered state.

creativity was suggested; the enhancement of creativity, and the method was visualization. having established the parameters by which suggestions would be delivered, the conductor began the session. eyes closed, breathing calm... feeling the immediate sensory reality, beginning to focus more internally... allowing any images to arise, easily, effortlessly...

the session lasted for approximately fifteen minutes. nearing the end, an image became immersive, real, literally submersive: the sensation of being held in place, drifting slightly from side to side, inches below the surface... looking upward at the surface of the water, a concentric circle rippling outward along the surface. the sun and blue sky were visible as impresssions on the water's surface, the cloudless sky reflected and transformed by the alternating motion of the circular waveforms extending outward in all directions.

much later that evening, deep into the night, sitting in front of the computer, there was a sudden urge to initiate an image search. in 1995, an anime was released involving humans with cybernetic bodies and even brains, pondering their own existential significance as human beings (and apparently falling prey to a superhacker who could take control of their bodies and minds). there was no particular reason for the search on that topic, other than a tired, wandering mind.

and then it became clear. the visualization from earlier in the day of slipping below the water's surface and gliding quietly underneath. it was actually depicted in the anime, used to set the tone for a moment of philosophical introspection. one of the cybernetic characters -- these machines don't float -- had fallen into the habit of scuba diving through the use of a powered device strapped to her back. her reliance on the machine was underscored by the fact that in many ways, she was also a machine... in a way connected to the reality of her own mortality through reliance on technology to survive, and yet deeply estranged from the feeling of being human by her own reincarnated state of inorganic functionality.

how was the choice made, entirely outside the realm of consciousness, to relive that image, from the inside? and why did the unconscious mind decide to present the source of the inspiration more than eight hours later, without even being asked to do so?


audio: bt . see you on the other side

what does the word 'celibate' mean?

so easy to forget...

"maybe you're not so far off, after all..."

a kiss goodbye, with the expectation of another day, another time; the prediction of a future that may have ended before it began.

it was a strange situation from the beginning, as seem always to characterize my interactions with other people:

from early on, it seemed somewhat ordinary. she wanted sex... and pursued me... and i was vaguely bored. but this time, the boredom became an intention to play, to push her a bit. there probably was a bit of cruelty mixed in, a desire to push her away, to make her fall in love, to say that she loved me. the reality of who i am is somehow unimaginable to others, so they manufacture an illusion that fits their preconceived impression. recently, it has become an increasingly simple matter to pace their realities, then amplify and feed them back.

in her case, first we played a game. the seduction. we saw each other rarely, instead exchanging emails. she had the feeling of being the aggressor, as she later would say "i pursued you for so long because..." of course, any intelligent cat knows how to earn its food. how? by enticing its owner to work for the cat's affection. my primary reason for engaging her was her ability to appreciate descriptive language. what she failed to realize was that my writing wasn't for her -- it was an idealized portrait of her, one that does not exist. therein, perhaps, lies the cruelty. hundreds of words, painstakingly crafted, honed and sharpened in order to take her mind away from reality and into a world where she could be who she wanted to be... and yet, the fabrication of such a mirage ultimately leads to a realization of sand, heat, and little else.

the particular oddity of this situation lies within the fact that at no point in time was i ever taken up in the moment; it was always a conscious game, fueled by an unconscious impetus. the feeling was one of oscillation between curiosity and compassion: curiosity at how far the game could be taken, and compassion for the fragility of her mental state. the fascinating beauty of it -- how a person can pretend to be "normal" and yet have an unspoken something deep inside of them, something that makes them unusual. i have yet to meet someone who has that quality, and is not also in some way damaged by the world in which they live.

as i wove a mirrored reality around her, insinuating an idealized version of myself into it, the enjoyment was primarily based on the fact that there was a hidden structure that only i could see. her role was predictably filled, almost as if there were secretly pulled levers and switches that caused this feeling and that, triggers for emotional states and physical arousal, even at a distance.

at this moment, it has come to the point that in a state of erotic hypnosis, i was able to guide her to an orgasm without touching her, or her touching herself. i have come to exist inside of her mind... the ultimate goal of any seducer -- introjection. "i imagine you inside of me... and i ache..." she says. of course, it is not a perfect simulation, but this is an art rather than a science, and i don't want to hurt her; rather, give her an experience that she can hopefully remember fondly after our time together has passed. no, more than that: i want her to be able to demand that her lovers treat her differently than before. her own weakness, until now, has been reflected by her "toys", as she calls the men in her life.

it seemed immediately apparent that she had rarely if ever been truly cared for, as she immediately attempted to slide into a purely sexual relationship. empty sexuality always seems a waste; it is a kind of intentional numbness, an escape. SM was naturally her chosen form of expression... and it fit perfectly that her habit was to dominate.

my original nature was passive. passivity, of course, is an easy way to draw the attention of predatory influences. the web of scar tissue that surrounds my early life and obscures my memories could have its roots somewhere within that early tendency to shy away from pain.

over time, a toughness became necessary to move inside of the world and not become a victim of it; the perversion of timidity into masochism became internalized as punishment of the body through harsh training and discipline of the mind. as time passed, my experiences with the martial arts, with the psychological act of fighting itself -- against peers, authority figures, my own intertwined fear of death and desire to die -- have become sublimated into a desire to challenge, deconstruct and reconstruct every power structure that i encounter. i am driven now to find out if life is truly as empty as it seems, and if there is any way to find a respite from the constantly unraveling red thread that seems to be the only reason for modern society to continue. most people seem blissfully unaware of the dark origins of eros, including this woman who is most likely, at this moment, contemplating whether to throw away her misconceptions, her desire for order, her sense of predictability, to fall in love with someone who feels incapable of feeling the emotion himself.

audio: cantoma . moonsmith