techno pagan parade

As I braced against the wind blowing my hair to the east the full moonlight poured bright and silver across the field over the single row of evergreens, I could faintly feel distant shimmering chords from a spirit-ukelele comforting me with the sense that life carries on and on amen and that everything will be just fine despite the discomforts and pains and toil and hungers and morbidity of life.  The Techno Pagan Parade Through The End of Time went on and on amen that night and it was all the best and worst parts of living stripped bare all alone telling themselves to me and through me forcing me to summon up all the strength I had to make peace with death and work and always the loneliness.  I had two friends that night- a bottle of wine and a very large scarf that my mother knit me for Christmas that reminded me of something a Norseman or some other ruddy Northerner might have worn in the dead of winter a thousand years ago.  I felt that I belonged to such an ancient time but that I also belonged to unimaginable futures of blinking and buzzing and living.  Some part of me also belonged to that present moment, New Years Eve 2011.  The paradoxes and pains of my unhinged location in space and time were maddening to the limit of my ability to cope but also they were life-affirming and magical and beautiful and the magic was pouring out of my hands and eyes into the world and everything was going to be just fine despite the discomfort and pains and travail and hungers and morbidity of Life.  And always, always the loneliness, on and on and on amen.  

Narrating all of this madness was a large spirit whale who happily and without mercy or guilt devoured scores of plankton with every twitch of his tail and recanted the nature of eating and being eaten; all too clearly I was aware that I too would be swallowed whole one day without thought or remorse and I would be dead and gone and buried and dead as a doornail and probably much sooner than I could imagine or hope for but this was perfectly alright and in fact was the fate of all living things who gladly accept the price for being alive and who all, without guilt or mercy, gleefully consume scores and scores of their fellow sentient beings so that they can wake once again in the clear and wonderful morning and smell the fresh dew and reflect on the beauty of the new day and shit out the useless remains of a once noble and beautiful living creature.  Whale told me that life is 49.5% shit and compost and trouble and problems and 50.5% finery and beauty and magic and that the 1% difference between them makes it all worthwhile and so life goes on and on amen but only on the slimmest of margins and you better believe that you are gonna be dead and buried and your children will eat you and the world will swallow you whole no matter what and even while you are alive and well you will be halfway submerged in shit, work and stress my god but always you will get that 1% margin to make it worthwhile.  Nothing can change this figure and you are damned lucky to exist in a universe that permits it.

Later on I was incredibly lonely and the pain lingered for days that there was simply no one to talk to, no way to make your entire self known to another no matter how closely connected.  But then, talk is cheap and that's ok and really most of what comes out of your mouth on a daily basis is not only useless but sinful in its veiled attempt to stave off the loneliness that we must all truly face.  You will get your beautiful mornings and moments of profound insight and your share of good food and drink and sometimes there will be fun parties that you never forget and people and friends and children and sometimes you will have very real and lasting connections and you will be able to articulate some of the loneliness and comfort each other wonderfully but it will all cost you 49.5% of your time and energy spent toiling and sinking into utter shit and misery and work and pain and you better believe you will be dead and fucking gone but the equation is always in your favor on the slimmest of margins on and on amen.