Notes for Day 1:
- I am extraordinarily drunk on the comically-named "Balantine's Finest." I have six bottles in my rations. The bottles have doubled as toilets--I still find the notion of pissing in the bushes rather vulgar. Frankly at this point I am unsure which is scotch and which is excrement.
- Yesterday I attempted to build a cabin out of twigs. It was rather small and immediately reminded me of my deceased ferret as only he could fit into it. I am an aesthete, not a contortionist. I then remembered that ferrets do not live in huts but rather burrow into foliage. I shall do the same.
- I burrowed my lithe, hairless body into the brush. At first the prickling was unpleasant--unbearable even--but then I realized it was a form of corporal mortification. For a moment I thought I felt the wind of the Holy Spirit pass over me in my suffering. I look forward to telling my Emo friends on MySpace.
- There is no MySpace in the forest. My feelings are ambiguous.
- I began reading Inferno in the original tongue. I then realized I do not speak Italian but have been lying about it all my life.
- I am growing bored. I will drink more scotch or excrement and pass out. The forest is more tiresome than Avery Mann's house. No, that is not true... Here there are foxes and deer, though they are neither as social nor as beautiful as I imagined. Indeed they are quite filthy.
- Grass does not taste very good at all though reindeer moss is not half bad.
- I cried.
A Dream
I am lost in a forest. A silver stream runs along a beaten path. I look into the darkness of the trees--the unexplored world. Eyes twinkle like stars. I find a clay cup beside the water--I am not the first traveler to awaken here. I look in the river expecting to see my reflection. I see no one.
I do not miss the whores and the drugs. My mask has been removed. Once again I am a child, though I am a little old and wrinkled... Why is it that we look forward to the weekends but fear the future?
No matter... I will trudge on despite the sprouting grey hairs... I will metamorphose. I will become something new. I am the wily Odysseus--fate be damned. Poseidon do your best.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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4 comments:
Are you for real? What the hell is doing an Aesthete with a Dell Inspiron? Never heard of Apple?
Thank you for your comment.
Your first question is a good one. Am I real? Well, I assure you I am flesh and blood... But the question gets complicated after that. What is real and what is illusion? I have spent too much time puffing opium to know the answer to that one...
So am I real? I do not know.
As for Apple, I am no Adam and resisted the temptation to take a bite. My Dell has served me well. It is true, it is the uglier machine, but I assure you I spent the money I saved on my Dell purchasing bespoke clothes and oriental tapestries. So an Aesthete I am and an Aesthete I remain.
Any more confrontational words you would like to type under the guise of anonymity? Or is there too much pig fat and Dorito dust on your fingers right now to type?
What a fabulous comeback Mr Tewksbury!
May I just say that it is an absolute joy to read your blog. I find your entire way of writing and expression absolutely fascinating.
I do hope you will keep it all up, and pay no attention to people like the above. An Aesthete may own a Dell if they wish.
- Chloe.
x
Ah, my dear Chloe, you have made my day. I was in a rather foul mood this morning (after another accident in my roadster), but your words remind me that things are not as dark as they seem.
I thank you sincerely for your compliments. Stay tuned to "The Madness," for I hope to transform my squirrely thoughts into another blog entry soon.
Yours,
NT
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