The bridging of selves

Utterly inebriated, I passed out a few hours ago at the foot of God, exorcised of demons, a contented smile on my face. Possibly finding me a hindrance, God has nudged me with God's ineffable big toe and I'm wide awake, staring back at the face of the moon outside my window. The past has caught up with the present and the future is strolling along at a comfortable pace. It seems everything is holding hands with everything. I'm bound by some compulsion to draw the shape of this container, although I know this means disturbing the sweetness of the condition. It can't last long anyway, I might as well chase it with words.

"Never in action had I known the chilling satisfaction of words; never in words had I experienced the hot darkness of action" - Yukio Mishima

The rest of that quote comes back to me in snatches and it's a great quote; so sublime, but I know it ends with Death, and for Mishima, in Death.

I realize now that the night is so full and peaceful. We've never been great friends, because I sleep uneasily and am shamefully afraid of shadows. Right now it is really quite satisfying to tap into the dark; the glow of my screen has become the face of the moon; Oh Sharon, I mean Betta... I'm sure that analogy (simile? metaphor?) has never been used before...

This word: isthmus. Land bridge. It's a great word, one of my favorites. For so long, I've thought it the ideal condition. A place that is able to relate two land masses to each other is very special. It's just so cool! But I wonder now if souls or bodies are meant to remain in transit, or in my case, to revel in it. Isthmuses come and go with the tides. I begin to suspect that my fascination is a symptom of a certain malaise, one that is not life-affirming. I've yet to explore this further.

Mishima was searching for the unifying principle. From memory: "Floating ten thousand feet above the ground, the silver phallus of the fuselage glinted in naked sunlight..." The rest I can't say for certain. But he saw a great circle coiled around the earth, one that united man and woman, art and action.

The isthmus is my unifying principle and I know it is a false one. It's the position of one who wants to savour all the chaos of life, but only at a distance. Mishima's unifying principle was Death. He was right.

If I'm becoming unclear it's only because I don't know what I mean. And that's the worse condition to be writing in.

Good night.