Shine. Is a Luminosity of Secret Intents that get curiously aroused, and then, viscerally captured by demons of desire.
Its a kind of a capitulation even.
I used to look at fame and infamy as busy, very busy. And as nature. Rocker Pavilion and Exotic Dancing Places, as connected through Theatre.
Especially here in America. Looked over my nose at it, as being caught by the external, overriding the internal, and a displacement?
I didnt think of writing as a displacement — or love, ever. Even if on surface it became destructive, and I burned with contempt.
Music was taken for granted as home on the range. And experienced as immediacy. Again and again.
I didnt look up to it. Only at it. And more than a little leery, at that.
Though could almost always find dance steps. Or walked around, crazy assed bored, searching for doors, finding kitchens underneath stages, getting high on roof with security, where things were as expected -
And I remained that all American forthright — or something along the lines of “Foster Wallace” crimes.
Until shine. Attached through symmetries in language and turned over my soul, “out the old way,” overtaken by “magic.” MAGIC?! Well that was asked — do you believe in magic. And I said, I dont think so…
And was wrong. Because my body really did. That was the shocking part, the magic was a physical connection that attached to symmetries rummaging with my soul, went through shock waves of grief….
Beginning to look into shine, structurally, in this next Section presently editing in the Novel.
Shine has only hit me twice. And after that last time, it isn’t shine anymore, but something else -
Down the rabbit hole.
Although, at this point, see that even, as just part of the nomenclature, for being eaten up by meaning, afflicted byits confrontations with time, images, language and shine.