posted on August 7, 2007 at 4:01 am

the hierophant n mem are standing in a bar
you mean to tell me that its my intentions turning them cards up?
says the hierophant
mem smiles enigmatically
or perhaps its the opposite
he says
the hierophant
look lets call him the killer for short
the hierophant is all duded up in some crazy medieval get up
karl jung intervenes
he says in his accent
oh i dont know the exact english word…
magic !
booms a deep dry voice
crowley knocks back a cognac and waves
mem eats a lightly sea salted crisp
magic…intentionality….art……will … he says abstractedly
the killer points to the upturned cards
the fool, the hero, the hanged man
past present future
the triple world
the past swallowing the future
but the more it swallows
the more future remains
the present is the fragile border
between these 2 untouchable states
remembering or imagining
is how we touch the past/future state
to be a real life hero
and fight injustice without being self righteous
to help and help without need for constant gratitude
to merely think a thing and behold! it is
crowley was reading my thoughts
yoga or magic he said
there are only 2 paths to what you desire to attain…
jung nodded thoughtfully
the killer has been practicing yoga hard now for a while he said
i wonder if he has really changed…
crowley said
hes been doing the poses
most of the other practice he neglects…
mem smiled and took a sip of his jaeger n red bull
it had become his trademark drink since that painting of his
had been sold for millions n millions
now his jaeger n redbull painting
hung in the louvre next to van go
crowley was boldly chatting up the barmaid
jung stared at me patiently like i was a lab rat
i must say herr killbee
its lovely to guest star in your blogge like this
i think it reveals something of yourself
yeah ? said k
delusions of grandeur
a rampant ego
a sick id
a neurotic inner child
unrealistic expectations of power
an incredible capacity for self aggradizement
said jung dispassionately
other than that?….i said
other than that youre a bit of a prick said crowley
rudely looking up for an instant
i thought this was your blogge…. said mem
youre right i thought
i can do anything here
quickly tiring of jung n crowley
i whisk them offstage n outta the bar
i turn sadly to mem
its ok said mem
im not really here either….am i?
in a moment i had swept the decks clear
no one remained but the woman behind the bar
drink up sir she said
its closing time
i staggered out into the streets
snowy bostonion streets
or hot sydney pavements
i cant tell
its either very warm
or very cold
you see i was right
all opposites eventually reconcile in each other
manipulation of these reconciliations is magic
the pull between opposites
man and woman
+ and –
life and death as well
extreme cold can feel like hot
yes yes
and then everything was peeled back
and i penetrated with my vision
to the real core of everything
and saw everything as it really was
for a second
everything was connected
it was ridiculous to think that….
but the thought wilted
as the second passed
and i was left with a shadow of the truth
which i chased drunkenly thru the streets of my mind
i stood in the severe poses of yoga
and my bones n sinews n joints n muscles moved apart
and in the new tiny gaps was knowledge
untransmissable knowledge
calm quiet knowledge
as it should be
nothing to get hung about
my mood crashed
i saw that tarot card i had turned
the hanged man
my future
no no no no
i turned my collar to the cold n damp
it had begun to rain in bondi
i felt hungry n suddenly lonely
itd still be quite a walk home

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