I wanted this year to climax without me lettering a word. But since I stopped drinking and worrying, writing has become an obsession. It is an equivalent of wanking or trying to hold back a release in the inception of an orgasm.
It’s 10:33 pm, 31st, and John Murdock’s ‘Rap City’ ft. The Scientist is gamboling on low volume. The hook is a sample of Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, one of the most suicidal songs I used to play on repeat on Sunday afternoons when I was dead broke and despised my whole family. Those were the days!
I have no idea what the plot of this writing is. Like I said, I want some release. It’s like smoking a joint at the rooftop or rape. An impulse. A demon.
Today, I spent the whole day alternating from reading, movies to surfing random websites. I’ve had an interest in the 9 year-old America-Iraq war. I stumbled on the fact (fact? That’s relative) that Iraq had no nuclear weapons to begin with and Iraq happens to be the purported geographical location of the Biblical Garden of Eden. The Sumer civilization from which most New Age philosophy draws reference from, was among the earliest natives of Iraq. The killings, the bombs, the civil wars are all like a massive blood ritual to cover up something – my conspiracy theory instincts tell me. Fascinating.
Anyway, last night I completed ‘The Alchemist’ and as always, I pick quotables and post them on Facebook. I like to share every bit of philosophy I come across. I can’t help it. Today I woke up to “Summoning Spirits: The Art of Magical Evocation” by Konstatinos. For the last 8 years or so, I have read nothing else but esotericism, magic, conspiracy theories, metaphysics and a whole bunch of stuff. There is an insatiable thirst for this kind of information. It is like a nymph who can’t keep her legs together. I have always loved books as a kid. Loved.
With the influence of Theosophical tenets, I’ve tried all sorts of things from opening Chakras to astral projection. The far I have come, is opening my Third Eye Chakra and perhaps mild Astral Projection in my reveries. I seem to attract books, movies and women with such interests into my life. As I write this, there’s a female friend who told me she levitated as a kid, can see auras, can scare cats to death, knows in her past life she was a boy, has failing eyesight because she can see reality as binary codes (like in the Matrix trilogy) and all experiences conventional folks might define as ‘weird’ or ‘Satanic’. Ignorance begets fear. So when my girl told me she’s having precognition episodes, I wasn’t surprised. It actually happened one evening when she had a vivid case of de javu and she was like, “Wait. I feel like this has happened before. My phone had rung and somebody from home had called.” Her mom called when these words had barely left her mouth. Of course all these paranormal abilities are within us all. It’s just a matter of being aware.
So the current book I’m reading talks about a whole bunch of stuff on how to summon entities from astral planes of existence. Of course I want to try that but I’m like not now. You never know what to expect. I don’t want to walk around with voices in my head or waking up floating on top of my bed, or claim to be channeling information from Archangel Metatron of Uranus or the Greys. Later in life perhaps, after going through practical training by proficient divine teachers. “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” One of my aspirations is to have enough money to go around the world to meet advanced spiritual gurus, shamans, monks in Himalayas or something. Maybe Toby Alexander and such. It’s like there’s a vacuum in my soul. My greatest quest is truth, knowledge and wisdom. In pursuit of the Elixir and the Philosopher’s Stone. Whatever that means.
Sometimes I wonder if all these philosophies have anything to do with being African. There’s always someone showing and saying, hey, you African, Christianity was bad you say? Then try the New Age stuff. Do yoga. Meditate. Hell, we’ve been meditating our whole life. I mean, what is prayer?
Maybe I will end up writing a few books myself. Isn’t that what people who read books do? Seriously though, I believe books hold most secrets to life. If there are any. Why else do we spend over 12 years in school or every week in church? Books. Books. The Internet (proper noun) is a library. Hypertext.
At times I feel like if it wasn’t for hustling, chasing the Kenyan dream, the prospects of raising a family and giving back to society, I would spend my whole life reading. And writing. But then, life as a god in a human form has limits. This is one of the reasons I don’t entertain the idea of reincarnating on this earth again. I know it sounds crazy.
Like the late poet Amiri Baraka says, “Craziness is no act. Not to act, is craziness.”
Speaking of poetry, I think Facebook is slowly killing poetry, but that’s none of my concerns. My immediate concern is e-publishing the second Eldoret Poets Association anthology, something I vowed to do annually for the love of the craft. Later, lease my second poetry collection at $1.7 in a bid to attach tangible value to the craft. And by collection I mean soft copies.
Resolutions? I don’t have any. Resolutions are for procrastinating pessimists. I live in the present. Do what has to be done NOW! The future will take care of itself.
Love and Light.