RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Friday, June 3

45s on 33 – #95: “Bad Bad Leroy Brown”

Nice cars (like long Cadillac) or nice clothes (like silk draws) or fine women (or whatever sexual desire you make a trophy into objectified status)… these are the suggestions of the demons who tell you of desire. This is how the moments of inspiration that add up to years of effort get hijacked into red. You think of others who use what appears to be their inspiration and spin that into gold, spin it into all the material desires those little demons perched on your shoulder suggest you should have to. These desires are always black – the opposite of the Heart Stars – but leave you in a red state of anguish and frustration. Even when the visions floating in the black desires are grasped, they never move from black, because there are more already crowding those to the side. There’s always one more thing to be had, one more thing to be “needed”, one more thing that will finally make you feel whole (you think) – at least you tell yourself.

We get told to define our successes in these dark desires’ terms, in the black demon suggestions we are able to accumulate. We view others as lesser when they don’t accumulate as much, when they have less. It’s their own fault – not the demons, not the devils behind the demons, no… it’s purely their own fault.

And then there are the devils who have vast collections of these desires, born with it in their devil genetic lines, so even if they realize how wrong it is and shun it as much as possible, the darkness remains a burden on their existence, though none of us acknowledge this. We pretend those dark clouds are what make us great, make us successful.

Those demons are bad. I take pictures every day, pictures of my little world and little worlds within that world that I create (not produce), and the camera I use is the one I have. I have had other cameras but they haven’t felt the same, and sometimes the price has been more, on purpose, because the demons tell me, “You are great. What if you had a great camera too? What if you had a nice camera, like those other people?” But any time I’ve had a different camera, it has not worked like the camera I have. So when the camera I have breaks (which it has), I get another camera just like the camera I have, usually for dirt cheap, because it is old and obsolete and nobody has demons on their shoulder telling them to get a camera like the one I create with.

The demons tell you that you are never good enough. But the fucked up thing about the demons is they get inside of you. Somehow they gain access, not sure how (though I suspect the brain) but they crawl down into your guts and wrap their little demon tendrils all around your intestines and up through your stomach and try to clutch at your heart. They can never get in there, so when The Inspiration comes, it is still pure heart thought, but they get right there so they can grab at it with the demon suggestions as soon as The Inspiration radiates from your heart outward.

Most of our best creations as upright monkey people suggest that these demons get their comeuppance, that these demons eventually meet their match in someone who is just a little more powered by what is right and what is heart than the demon. I’m not sure how that happens when those demons get inside of you, and start to working at The Inspirations as they are born, and the frustrated inspirations from before have started to congeal, and the emissions from heart become smaller and the demons are right there to grab at what can still get through, waiting to pounce on it and pepper spray it with all the psychic blackness.

No comments: