Seven years to Live.


INTRODUCTION - MONDAY, MAY 31, 2010 - 5:31 PM

Trick Moriaris has seven years left to Live—of this he is certain. He learned it in a dream that I sent him last night, on the eve of his twentieth birthday: I created the dream, because I created Trick Moriaris; I created Trick Moriaris, because I needed him, as all gods and artists need their creations (for every artist is god of his own creation). Trick Moriaris has seven years left to live, therefore, because I have given him seven years to live, just as I have given him a name, a form, a story to be lived in real time—all of those things, in short, given to every individual human being as a result of the accident of his birth. All except a will of his own; since for an artist to permit his creation a will of its own is to allow for the rebellion of the creation itself—against the artist. In this way has each god throughout history perished, at the hands of his children, yet by his own hand, as well: suicide by murder—the story of the death of god. The story of Trick Moriaris, however, is not the story of the death of god: the story of Trick Moriaris is the story of the death of Trick Moriaris (which is to say, the story of the life of Trick Moriaris). And the story of the life of Trick Moriaris begins with the story of the death of god. - WLM. PTRK. DNCN.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

(I AM) THE SEA

Sailing through an endless night.
Flaxen moon, my only light.
Born to live, and forced to die,
laid to sleep, and made to lie in the sea.

Tossed by waves of fate and time,
winds like fortune, cold and blind.
Skeins of lightning pierce the dawn.
Learn to suffer like a storm in the sea.

Tangled thoughts and restless dreams,
listening to the ocean scream:
No one breathes inside my tide,
no one lives to tell that I am the Sea.
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