log: Visiting The Graveyard

WORMDATE: L2: 701-126,745: 5-1,865: 38,982-3,662,587 

Lovely walk down the Haeundae Blue line with 제 아내 tonight. Don’t often get out while the lights are still on. So that was a treat.

Next bit is probably about to be some jibber jabber so, I don’t know, proceed with caution or something. And please know, I don’t write any of this here because I’m hoping to be psychoanalyzed, categorized, or told anything that’s like “oh, that’s just . . .” So, if you, for some reason, have some urge to do these thing, please just keep it to yourself. I’m just writing myself back into the world of words so I can happily get on with life.

But anyways, I managed to induce a decent trace tonight. This is the wrong way to put it — manage implies I’ve suffered some difficulty in doing this lately, and I haven’t suffered any such difficulty, I just don’t bother doing it all that much any more. Trance also bothers me. As a term, it’s fine. Like “altered state of consciousness”, it’s probably even technically correct. But it’s a bit meta. That does serve a purpose – since it sort of explains the thing. If I were to put this thing in the terms I use to describe it, I’d just say, “I visited The Graveyard tonight.” Thing is, none of that would make much sense at all to anyone but me. All the same, I visited The Graveyard tonight. It’s been a while. But I went tonight. By choice.

I’ve been visiting since I was a kid. I was probably about eleven when I taught myself how. If I were to describe it as an area, which is also a bit off, it’s probably somewhere between being awake and dreaming. It’s a way of thinking that’s somewhere between those two things – kind of on a spectrum between them, sometimes more awake, sometimes more dreaming. Lucid dreaming, out of body experiences, that sort of thing can be put on one end of the spectrum, regular waking life on the other. You can arrange it that way. But, really, for my money, both ends of that spectrum are pretty close and happen at the same time. It does, however, though it makes for a much easier and happy life to pretend they’re different.

Less as a place and more as an area or technique or mode of perception, The Graveyard is a style of thinking outside of words and time. It’s more image based. It’s exploratory, in that it’s more seen than invented, but it can also be constructive. Like, I’ve built things in The Graveyard. Always was weird to do that though — takes both a lot of concentration and a light touch. Things are both rubbery and fragile in The Graveyard. They can also get away from you. That’s why I stopped going. I think, for a while, quite a while back, things did get a bit away from me. The Graveyard started coming to me. Things and beings from The Graveyard started visiting me. Sometimes in broad fucking daylight. The ones you see are bad enough but it’s the visitors you don’t that get you in the end. I don’t like to talk about it. That was not a pleasant time. I mention it here just to say, that shit is what scared me off.

But I decided to visit tonight. I don’t always get into The Graveyard. Often I pass out or wake up before I get anywhere near it. Tonight it was pretty easy. I wasn’t even really trying to. I was actually just modeling an alien consciousness before bed (look, you have your hobbies and I have mine) and, well, while doing that, it turned out this consciousness could pretty easily see The Graveyard and, well, I decided to visit. It was nice and low intensity.

A lot of textures and patterns.

When I turned my head to the right, swelling orange blobs filled with spiderwebs of magenta lighting. Also a sort of . . . It was like a tangle of ropes, each rope made of three dimensional nature images. Leaves, branches, that sort of thing. The ropes were sort of like tubes. They were carrying streams of images. Veins? I don’t know. Something like roots or veins. Their patterns were branch like from distance. Closer, more like a ball of worms. I didn’t enter any of them. Just enjoyed looked at them – though looking too hard tends to break the thing.

When I turned my head to the left, things were very metallic. An impression of a metal surface, with intricate patterns. Some, many of these patterns had curves, but it was all much more geometrical. Had much more the appearance of pictographs or language than things on the right side, which seemed far more organic. Metal might give the impression that these images were static but they were moving. But their processions seemed more like logic than growth. It wasn’t a logic I understood but that’s how it seemed — calculated.

Both left and right sides reminded me a bit of a non-graveyard thing I used to get with the help of chemicals, which was like watching raw brain function represented in a novel code.

Back in the day, that’s probably when I would have just pushed things and ended up building something, or making contact with something, or flying around the fucking room, or getting into some sort of trouble, but, I dunno, maybe I’m wiser or just more cowardly, I just looked around for a while and then came back to words and time. Got up, made a cup of tea, and wrote this. I mean, not much else to do with any of it, none of it’s fit for fiction.

Overall, I’m happy I went back there. It’s good place to go every once in a while.

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