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Cheerer-uppers
by Ceci
Lumley
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| There are
ten thousand kinds of fucking. Our barbarous animalism, our vaunted, flaunted materialism
makes us think there’s only one and it’s cock-cunt.
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| Semele is
not a good role model.
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| They’re
horny too, the "gods". Frightened, desperate, jaded.
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| Are we, to
some, objects of arousal?
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| There are
roads, and maps. Others have been this way.
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| We are, most
of us, metaphysical puritans.
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| Irony is
metaphysical erotic play.
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| Intimacy
varies inversely with distance (in case you were wondering about you-know-who’s
seeming absence).
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| Mass art =
clabbered cum.
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| Our
landscapes are littered with the ruins, often well-kept and even revered, of our ignorant
theophobia.
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| No matter
what the mechanism is (or what you think it is) that is dragging you down, you can still,
almost always, turn your attention away, toward natural symbols, where true, timeless
power lies.
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| What do you
gain from your daily rounds that is so valuable but that you could spare an hour doing
better, doing within?
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| Pain is the
teacher of last resort.
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| Wisdom: to
be no more than bemused by outrageous fortune, and identity.
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| Every
investment in the invisible pays off big, often, usually, in ways you, in your
surface-sightedness, don’t notice.
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| Theosex. We
want it, but are afraid. The flight is not from the body but from the mind. From
knowledge.
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| No healthy
revolution is possible with clothes on.
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| As a child
you swung and jumped, hurtling forward in a flying arc. That freedom and more is available
and accessible. Neither I nor anyone can give it to you. The way can be pointed at. Love,
power, money, piety, knowledge, wisdom—none will take you to or along the way. Only
the naked, gentlest you can find or walk it.
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| How we still
praise and reward the students of surfaces—lovely, old and repetitious as they
are—inside the zoo. Same old zoo. Same old tricks. Same old omphaloskeptic Nobel
Prizes.
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