Saturday, June 14, 2014


I see a crimson splash of color exploding before my eyes. I see red. My blood churns within me , the cells of my brain explode into shards of red hot bursts of anger. I see red, i become red, i am red.

Madness is a sane response to an insane world, promulgates laing. But if the world is mad the is anger sane? Is the red i see in me, with impersonal exactitude, formulating it as disenchantment, a response to chaos that is rational, and if rational, therefore admissible.

The red thickens and attenuates and eventually thins out. It's rhythmic waves slap against my temples. I still see red but things are blurring and therefore concretizing. Other forms of being, others shades of color are inveigled into my incandescent, conflagarated perceiving consciousness.

Are anger,psychotic fusillades, collective madness sane because they mirror the insanity beneath a putative sane world. Do these emotions that tumultuously roil within me betoken my need for things to change. But i feel okay where i am, comfortable as a constituent in a larger mosaic of conformist non conformity. Each life is a life of redness, of seeing red, of being red.

The waves of the red are settling down now. An occasional wave advances and rocks my inner disequilibrium and retreats but it leaves behind a crystallization of unperception or deeper perception.
The red still simmers, still shimmers but not coruscatingly, more penumbrally perhaps.

History deems red unacceptable, myth romanticizes it, custom embalms it and the present posteritizes it. Red is, despite all the negativity it contains, a viable responsiveness, a pertinacious responsiveness. Red is passion, passion is red. Red rides on the crest of disillusionment, disillusionment is the crest on which red is astride. Passion is the red crest on which disillusionment rests and the disillusionment of passion intermingled with red is the crest mankind traverses.

Madness, in a sense, is redness redoubled. It is both anger and its manifestation, its behavioral underpinning. It is both unremitting polemicism and irrefragable inchoateness. It contains within itself both red and a more circumspect, transcendent red beyond this red. It is because it is pulled simultaneously in the interstices of responsiveness and a beyond beyond  responsiveness.

But doing that necessitates being mad, seeing red. Mad is red.

No comments:

Post a Comment