Incomplete Ideas & Anecdotes About Secrets
I suppose that I’m placing this here to keep the thought fresh. As long as this entry pops up first when I check my blog every day, maybe I’ll feel a force stronger than the fleeting will within me, and I’ll make this full, real, complete. I suppose I’m making it public because influence is nice, as are daily reads from the folks who frequent this blog. At any rate, I hate crazy people.
OK, I don’t really hate them at all, only so much as I am them and might hate myself. But hey! That’s late-night thinking for you. The brain’s fucking mad that it’s dark out and he’s still working.
There are times, though, where crazy people put a real sadness in me. Hint: it’s never because they’re crazy. Or always? Either way, it’s because they hold a secret right in their hands, and they’re almost too eager to let you in on it. If you seek a secret like I do, you open your heart to their insanity.
See, I’m looking for something. It’s that part of one’s life, I suppose, that “there has to be more” time when lots of people might find religion or a wacky hobby, maybe exercise or a life-crippling drug habit. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of that, but I always feel a little bit like that stuff is a distraction.
Which isn’t to say that the absence of those things leaves open a clear path to anything at all! In fact, I’m sure it makes it harder to find that something when the only direction one has is to spin in a circle with his or her thumb up his or her’s ass.
This brings me back to the insane. Such amazing stories, some of them have, filled with heroes & villains, great danger and greater reward. Sometimes, these stories are captivating, and based in a world we all might actually know. Some of the elements are so, maybe too real. Grail quests are everywhere, it seems, and the crazy sometimes just seem like the sane who have the great fortune of streamlining their existences so skillfully that their goal is the only goal. Occasionally, it can even be heroic.
What ultimately happens, though, is that we remember we’re sane. No matter how tight the weave, there’s always a thread to pull in an insane man’s tale. Pull too hard, or too persistently, and the flaws in the structure show in the stretched tapestry. Sure, the key is just deep breathing…and possessions are meaningless…and you just have to let go…and your entire family died in a fire that started because you hoarded 20 years’ worth of newspapers…ah, shit. Your family’s dead, it broke you and you feel responsible.
Dig deep enough into any story, and you lose the mystery. The secret is a brick wall.
It keeps me up nights, sometimes. I like finding news stories to share with friends, like finding new music, new movies, just learning something else, but none of it is truly a secret knowledge gained or given. I’ve Googled the most ridiculous phrases, like “I Want Something New” or “I Want Something Unknown,” and the saddest thing about those phrases is that they pretty much lead to people who are in bad relationships. I’m actually in a pretty great relationship, and so my hopes get dashed further. Maybe if I read the 13th page of results, I’ll find what I want.
Sex, it seems, is the big secret. It’s the clandestine operation, as far as the Internet is concerned. There are little curiosities here & there; I find the BitCoin philosophy interesting, and the Silk Road Internet trade that exists because of it is pretty fascinating. But even that, ultimately, is just a contraband issue. Sex, drugs, guns, whatever your thing…it’s all basically just about getting something that you can’t have, or can’t have in the way you want. BitCoin, because of its flexible & steadily rising value as well as the anonymity that goes with dealing in it as a currency, suddenly makes the unattainable as close as a few clicks & arrangements. A secret to most, an unknown to me, but it’s still just the things that are, used in the way we use them.
Context, I feel, is what really makes a secret worth having, worth knowing & worth keeping. Hence, they’re not widely advertised. The culture of mixology and craft cocktails has brought with it an element of the Prohibition Era that always intrigued me: the speakeasy. As these modern establishments are diligently recreating the age of the true cocktail, they’re bringing with them that really cool element of the speakeasy, that being the hidden entrance, the password. It’s not every place, but some places definitely do this…
…and it fucking sucks. You need a password and a hidden entrance now for a motif. Proper context, though, means having a password & hidden entrance are essential because the cops can blow in whenever they please and shut down the operation. That makes it dangerous, and yeah, that makes it cool. Now, it’s a theme in a world so rich with themes that the currency has been devalued. Even if something’s authentic now, it’s because the theme is authenticity. And secrets? Ha! If I can live on the East Coast and know the entire secret menu at the West Coast fast-food staple Jack In The Box, the concept of a secret is dead in this world. I lament its departure. I never knew ye…
I feel like disgusting, sleazy Uncle Frank from Hellraiser whenever I even think about this shit, honestly. I seek secrets, and would I resist the temptation of the Pandora’s Box that is The Lament Configuration? Well, considering I’m not really into the BDSM scene, I think I’d be safe…but I do listen to Black Tape For A Blue Girl, so…
…so I try to think of the “new thing.” I have no clue what it is. I haven’t seen its face & don’t know its dimensions. Is it the trip inward? A great expansion outward? Should I have worked harder at math & science? Well, I can pretty safely answer the third question with a “yes, asshole,” but beyond that I don’t even know what it even is that I want to see or know. It’s just not this, and it’s not yet.
Posted on 06/05/2013, in Uncategorized and tagged BDSM, BitCoin, Black Tape for a Blue Girl, craft cocktails, crazy people, Hellraiser, justin bieber, Lament Configuration, mixology, Prohibition Era, Secrets, Silk Road, speakeasy, The Secret, Uncle Frank. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.