Monday, January 7, 2013


Buttressed by a putative inviolability i sat smug in the sheath of my self containment, hoping against hope that the mnemonics whose unbidden promptings discomfited me would cease to be, perhaps even obliterated. Because when i thought, which in a sense is remembering i cleaved eldritch dimensions whose gothic fusillades swamped me in a penumbral interstice wherein, entrapped between recollecting and forgetting, enclosed in ambiguity i surrendered to the overwhelming expressionist emblems of that hinterland where imagination met unremitting reality and emerged shaken, bewildered as though waking from a nightmare.

Had i willed things differently would an imperceptible change have occured? Memory is a undifferentiated wholeness which refracts shafts of disquiet, nostalgia, valediction and requiem. Shards of variegations dapple the mind, at times irradiating it at others casting a tenebrous gloaming which obfuscates but never conceals, illumines through silhouettes, shadows but never pellucid. Chaos supervenes when the contravening daubs of memory jostle for ascendancy. Possessed of a turbid though melancholic imagination i extricated from this kaleidoscopic cornucopia remnants of pain, misgiving, self beratement and psychic damage. And the mind, recalcitrant to begin with indelibly embalms these daguerrotypes and intransigently entombes them in the sacrophagus of self annihilation. With this conjunction of imagination and reality, my sense of things blurs and dissolves into primeval nothingness.

I could, conversely asseverate that the intimations of apotheosis these memories proffer is what makes them irresistibly attractive. They proffer stippled transcendence, streaking the chiaroscuro of monolithic linearity with multi faceted temporalities, multifarious intersections and impalpable yet parthenogenetic reality. It is the effort of will to crystallize a telos, a fulcrum that, with its proffered inexhaustible indeterminacies, saps me of being.  But over time i have learned to cherish this uncertainty becase it has become, ironically, the basis of my life. And it further ennobles me because when a viscid, crepuscular gloom blurs lucidity the form my memories take and their content becomes determinate through an act of faith, the will to believe. I stud the crenellations of amorphousness with irrefutable self made logic and thus by symbiotically soldering the inner with the outer create a new homonymy.

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