Oh, what a dark dance to choreograph

May 20, 2017

20th May

In the garden, her wrist on show, the pale white scar bearing witness to a past indiscretion: a failure this, to accompany so many others. The rose blooms bled behind us in soft red bursts. A reflection of another time and her own undoing, perhaps. It’s summer and all the pretty girls wear dresses that show off their freckled shoulders. They come and go beside the living wound of the roses. And in her eyes a reflection of gentle dark night. Later she spreads herself out like a pale landscape across my bed, and my fingers trace her smooth contours with pleasure. But now I am become shadow. A footstep or two, half-heard. I am not here. And none of it really matters. Not anymore…

#

Drunk on wine and poetry and the taste of your skin – especially the ripe folds of skin between those softly curving thighs. Ah, to drink you down in one long draught. To be drunk. To be drunk by sipping without stopping, like some blasé god, Bacchus perhaps? To be drunk on wine and on you. To drink down the fine frothy waves of you. To drift on your tides like a water-logged piece of flotsam. To be drunk forever…

A fate devoutly to be desired.

#

And to the cinema to see Alien Covenant, a film that has filled me with hope for the future of mankind. The day wet. The sky low enough to swallow the earth in big misty mouthfuls. A and L told me the film was “slow”, “not much happening”. Comments that puzzle me in hindsight? I didn’t think it that bad for a film of its ‘type’: “Look, there’s an alien; kill the alien; the alien’s dead…perhaps?”

Afterwards had a reassuringly third-rate meal at R Fast Food, followed by the most tasteless coffee I’ve ever encountered anywhere in the world. Had a brandy with it, which was okay. God bless Courvoisier! It saves even a wilted salad!

#

Thursday given over to Crowley’s ritual technique of eroto-comatose lucidity: repeated sexual stimulation to the point of orgasm – until the body drifts, leaf-like between sleep and wakefulness…in a state of near exhaustion, because of this continuous excitation; erotic massage, fingering, physical stimulation of genitals and erogenous areas – continuing for a period of five hours or longer on this occasion.

Both heaven and hell…

Trance-like state achieved. Saw this wild, grey sea unlike any other sea I’d ever encountered. Heavy drops of rain falling in torrents out of a vermillion sky, and mask-like faces in the air around. Foaming waves…

Vision disrupted finally by ejaculation…but magic made, anyway. All desire centered on one good outcome. Hopefully successfully.

#

Dreams from Thursday night: vivid, confused and disturbing. A beautiful woman, tall, wearing a flounced bell-shaped skirt and no upper garment. Full breasted; heavily rouged nipples. At her waist a belt of jeweled snakes. Around her other women, Neolithic women in tatter skins. All glimpsed by the dancing light of candles set in crystal.

And they dance, these women. A dance of leeches. Spinning in sinister ballerina poses. The dance becoming more frenetic, frenzied and furious. Their bodies come together like a wreckages of flesh…

Wind dancers, these, I realise. Animal shapes crossing the ridges of their backbones. Before they dissolve in to so many particles, shifting in the wind, to reassemble as the sea folds around their bare feet and ankles.

And this wind creeps in through the cracks in the world…

#

Friday off to close friends for long boozy lunch (Peedeel drank only water!), Chinese food in multiple courses, and good conversation. Plenty of laughter. I felt strangely dissociated, though. There, yet elsewhere. The after effects of such an intense ECL session yesterday, perhaps? Certainly, very sore downtown.

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