the poetry of madness
Name: Lord Malinov
driven by curiousity and an intense need for understanding, I strive to learn and express in every step of the marvelous journey that life is providing
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Euclid's Elements
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Journal of Desire
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Superstition is unlucky.
When I rush, I tend to act habitually. When I go slowly, I can learn, create and adapt.
We ate Indian the other night - the Clay Pit in Addison is by far the best I've had in Dallas - and when the waitress saw me, she gasped. Cats assures me that it wasn't a self-indulgent hallucination, but an honest gasp. My struggle, as always, is to remain calm. I have come to recognize that I can have a non-calming effect on the people around me, making my calmness particularly difficult and especially important.
It was flattering and she was charming in her nervous excitement. The high point came when she and another waitress collided in eager efforts to serve me. Cats was beside herself with laughter - of course, she had her own attentive fan among the male staff. We are very popular there. The food is ambrosial.
I was lucky enough to enjoy a wonderful array of international delights during my fifteen years of DC. I'm not an eater, but I know good food.
The ship is sailed - the voyage is underway. The time for questions is over. It's time to keep ourselves sailing. Onward and Upward.
Malinov
There are true things - undeniably true things - that we cannot measure. Here lie the limits of science, logic and even reason.
This is a generalization of Godel who recognized the inherent incompleteness to any logical system. Our consciousness functions within a realm that doesn't quite close neatly.
Malinov
We live in a brutal world. No matter what atrocity we have known, history can provide lessons of inhumanity on even grander scales. Cruelties that are as absurd as they are nasty. Torments that required significant resources and planning to undertake. What a piece of work is man, saith the Hamlet, tongue firmly encheeked.
Most battles have been decided by relative stupidity - mistakes taking significantly more lives than brilliant planning every did. Stay steadily smart and only bad luck forms your resistance.
Unfortunately, one man's smart is another man's arsenic. Smart is as smart does implieth the Gump. I am only certain that smart has many facets. Some people mistake their smartness in some facets for a general smartness. A general smartness requires significant overall smartness but usually neglects some facets. Overestimating our smartness is one of the most unattractive things we can do when dealing with other smart people.
I remember my early networking community experiences - discovering that pretending to know anything on the Internet would be exposed faster than DSL.
Malinov
"I'm going to communion," she informed me.
"Ah, going to partake in a little transubstantiation?" I asked
"Don't make fun of me," she fumed.
The phrase "hoc est corpus" - latin for "this is flesh" and the phrase of transubstantiation in the old mass - was corrupted to give us the magical incantation "hocus pocus."
As I understand the old ways, the bread changes into the body of the Christ in the communioner's mouth. We were instructed not to chew the bread for this reason, letting it dissolve. It would seem that the Fathers did not think Jesus would appreciate being bitten.
It did occur to me that flesh would not dissolve in my mouth, but I had grown beyond logical analysis of matters of faith. As Xena and Quixote saith, when you notice something like that, a wizard did it.
Enjoy,
Malinov
You ain't from Russia
So why are you rushing?
They tell me that the Taliban was responsible for the whole-sale destruction of historical artifacts. In my books, knocking over buildings in NYC is a minor offense, like pissing in the ocean, but deliberately smashing priceless cultural artifacts? Get a rope.
My thoughts are pressing forward creatively, eager to express, to color and shape, to explain and explore. I have so many tales to tell.
I missed a flirtation yesterday - particularly sad since the flirtatious woman happens to electrifies me. Her youthful terminology eluded my grasp so that I didn't realize what she meant until much later. Ach du Lieber.
The heat is brutal. Texas is not for the weak.
Malinov
Revenge, we are told by the Klingons, is a dish best served cold.
The Klingons were probably representing the Mongols. Ghengis - or Chingass as the experts style him these days - didn't muck around, following the Dread Pirate's advice - once it's got around that you've gone soft, it's work, work, work. Mongols taught with brutality, a harsh method but remarkably effective.
Being unified left them soft and their evolutionary advantage faded away. So it goes.
Malinov
I'm a happy miser.
The best revenge is living well. Perhaps "best" is a bit strong. A bullet to the brain can be damn satisfying revenge, too.
I can joke lightly about such things because I am not a violent man. I have the power within me, I suppose, but intelligence can be a heavy restraint on physical intercessions. It is the unusual case where violence is a reasonable solution.
So saith the Malinov. Praise me! Praise me!
I'm a huge Invader Zim fan - thanks to Cliff the computer dude. "You should have heard the lies she told about you!"
Computer dudes know things about us. They even know that we know and know that we are powerless to prevent them knowing because of their relationships with our machines.
Cliff knows many things. I, personally, appreciate Cliff's discretion. A good computer dude must be discreet. Loose cannons are quickly melted into cannonballs.
Can I turn a metaphor, or what? Praise me!
I am embarrassed by the stupidity emenating from the eX. Was I blind to the dysfunction or was it an evolutionary condition. She has the machinery, but emotional trauma is mucking her gears well beyond anything I've seen before in her. I am responsible for much of her trauma and for that I am sad and sorry. Sadly, any undoing cannot come from me, other than very indirect support, which I am obliged to provide, for her role as mother of my children is far more important to me than anything interpersonal between us.
Forgetting emotionally requires de-energizing the memories. The wizards call this reframing, a nice little metaphor in it's own right. Reframing a memory is fairly simple - but a fifteen year relationship has an exceedingly vast number of memories associated with various aspects of our growing together and apart. There is no easy road.
Life is pain, princess. Avoid people who are selling things.
The fan fried on our downstairs AC. Two different dudes offered to replace the whole system for four grand. Nice fellows. We found someone who would replace the fan, costing us a neat three fifty.
So much of our troubles arise from a failure to communicate. It is difficult and, at the least, laborious to verbalize with another person to reach the many layers of understanding necessary to arrive at a mutually beneficial transaction. We typically grab a short-cut and we pay in various ways. Sometimes quick and dirty are the only way to get anywhere.
In some ways, it is difficult to love at forty-three. Not because I feel less, nay, quite the contrary. Rather, complexity dilutes my intensity. As a youth, I could spend weeks in creative states, constructing the fables, sets and librettos of a ferociously passionate love. I still burn with the same fires, but my attention is demanded by many directions.
There is a danger, working at the levels I now work, when we develop the idea that we cannot afford our own time. A few hours of my time can be worth a quick ten grand. Very few things that I want to do are worth paying that kind of money to do. Therefore, I should always work. Quod Erat Demonstratum.
One of the Japanese Kamakazi pilots - one who failed his mission - said that before the plane took off, he checked his watch for the time. Then he realized that with his death immanent, time had no meaning for him anymore. He threw his watch away.
US forces prevented his suicide by shooting him down. War can get weird.
Time was invented so that we could meet at the bar for a drink, even when the clouds covered the sun. Clocks were invented so that sailors could navigate latitudinal voyages.
Otherwise, time has no meaning. We abuse ourselves with the concept of time.
Everything we do takes time and every plan requires constant amendment. Every day requires sleep and sustenance. The feeling of pressure, which comes from frustration, generates flight-fight responses. We rush from frustration.
All well and good, except that rushing doesn't cure frustration. It increases frustration.
You want the truth? You can't handle the truth.
Slow
Malinov
Freezing deleriums
Brokenly chipped
Asking permission
Skating to flip
Turning my heart to the razor-edged slice
Emptied of trying, aching to stop
Taking the blow to t he back of my neck
The chop of lost dreams, the destruction, the pop
Crystallized in a gaze
My salvation
Arose
Malinov
When I encountered the lesson "slow and steady wins the race," I would interject, "unless fast and steady have entered." Humor, ar, ar.
The tortoise does not win the race because he is slow. Steady is the key. Steady wins the race.
The best way to remain steady is to proceed slowly. Slow begets steady.
It has become my experience that the quickest way to anywhere comes from proceeding slowly. Not with a dilly dally, but deliberate.
When did society determine that speed was the key to success? I suspect it was misinformation given by the greedy to keep the masses off the track.
Faster, they'd scream. We never realized that fast is unsteady and leads us backward.
Malinov
skipping into the outer reaches
sensations of wonder
overwhelmed in turns
Casting my line
Believing sometimes
Rich with amazement
Colder than steel
staring into the eye of the sun
Malinov
unlock my battered heart
take comfort, I have plenty to spare
Everyone's high
on consolation
I'd pay the devil to replace her.
Conquests await, but the future can't promise
More than this
Though it may deliver as the world wills
Today may be the summit
we have reached too late
Passions flame in unbridled bursts
Weeks dissipate in fits of lust
Delights
Under my umbrella
I have always been a singer, for as long as I can remember, anyway. Singing forces proper breathing, making it an excellent therapy for stress.
(Bus Stop by the Hollies who are not Buddy Holly who died with Richie Valens and the Big Bopper)
she's always gone too long
anytime she goes away
Malinov
Delicately
Expecting something soon
Anticipations
Floating unhurried
Ever slowing
Wishing our washing would waver insane
A smouldering gaze
Fixed
Determined
Hungry
Too hungry
There is always an excuse to lose
unless we have nothing left
just opportunities
another scheme
designed to take us high
Aloft
Spurred into action, I don't dare waste words
Her lips submit to the press
Of mine
Malinov
Could I send her a message?
Light her heart with my words
Tempt the aura of beauty
In attention full glow
May I spark some excitement
Set a yearning in motion
Eloquently inspire a touch
Lost in the quicksilver of love
What words must I choose
My magic to perform
Selected and pared
From my impulses gone mad
Flattery
Provocation
Invitation
Sharing
an amalgamation of everything I can dare admit feeling
in pursuit, in submission, in desire, in need
melding my spirit in discovering you
loving myself in loving you
moments unveil the truth we've become
the soft purr kindles
slowly
our pyre
Malinov
and said, "Danny boy, this is a showdown."
Happiness is a warm gun.
Out in the jungle where the mightly tiger lies
Bill and his elephant were taken by surprise
So Captain Marvel shot him right between the eyes
Zap
Hey Bungalo Bill, what did you kill?
The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
"The way he looked so fierce," his mummy butted in
"If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him."
Feeling beatled,
Malinov
He knows I'm here
Waiting
Patiently biding my time
Waiting
For the moment to come
a moment only we two shall share
the impact
lead meets head
in a cataclysmic display of explosive gore
He feels my vengeance
Waiting
The wrongs, his crimes
Belong to me
Dissolved into my essence
Waiting
For purgation
The searing heat of molten fate
Like the scratch of a dull knife
Embedded deeply
and what was once a man
evolves into a carcass
He prays I'll never find him
Never find a chance to score
But God abandoned this sinner
To me
Fixing him in my path
Readied to deliver
His ugly soul
to Hell
Malinov
Explanations floating needlessly
Hover, soon vanish into currents of air
Bubbles of emotion burst enigmaticly
Swells of frustration in endless eruption
Joys cursed by anger
Thin rays of hope burst through
In your words, I find spirit
The course runs smooth in truth
Touch me
Feel me
Heal me
Deliver me from divination
The beast shall be slain, his blood shall spill
In recompense
His howls of remorse rattle the gates
As his wrongs are finally undone
Malinov
Slowed steadied rhythms
each stroke pushed gently down
a heavy heartbeat harmonized
illumines the agonized song
What do I know. I've believed more than my share of fools. If wisdom comes from errors, I must be Solomon.
My dreams seem to know you
sending teasing provoking inviting
Tantalizing reminders ache in wanton disregard
Reason knows nothing of love
Tremble, anticipation
removed the cause
but not the symptom
Malinov
Asking for help along the way
Taking a moment to ponder
Syllabic reductions reassembled
Taking form in fluid thoughts
Pressures felt
holographically
emenate tensions
for lucid display
Caverns of dreams elucidate
Whispers in elegant tendrils
All I can do is want you
Again
Echoes capturing me in a tidal wave of obsession
Let me loose
We can flow
Precisely intuited, formulations of mechanisms
Within her blazing soul
Spires rise aflame
Malinov
Did you ever dance with the devil?
I say that to all my victims. I just like the sound of it.
What a joker.
Energies burn through me
Navigating hurricanes in flux
Echoes resound
though the voice never heard
forever astray
in search of my way
The infinites of the Universe
Like the beauties of women
endlessly enchanting
Provide
If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning.
My day has come
I am the one
the lizard
crowned eternally
Celebrate the joy of living
The rush of blood
from stem to stern
the self-created colors of our subjective reality
goddammit
Be the essence of creation
Rattle your foundations
To the Rhythm of our Beat
I crave your lips, your kiss, your tender caress. I shouldn't let myself think about you, but I seem unable to elude your damned enchantments. Why do you torment me so?
I will retreat back to my lair, waiting for your word, your move, your evocation.
You are a cruelty.
Malinov
Life's affirmation
Arises
A feeling of isolation
tempting frustration
inviting separation
denunciation
accusation
invigorating the sensations of isolation
The concept of letting go is inviting but the threads of the past weave my present and while a thread may be ignored, the fabric holds them tightly bound.
I am haunted. Tormented.
Meditate upon the question. The answers can only be heard in the soul's silence.
A free-roaming vapor
depends on no one
motion defines
the form
I suffered a living coma
For forty-odd some years
emerging to discover
My life had been a delusion
Driven to insanity
By an all-too-crazy world
The saddest things, perhaps, came from mistaking foolishness for wisdom.
Ripe with tension
Aflame with anger
Precisely on target
Infuriated.
The music plays lightheartedly
I ease into the tune
Enjoy,
Malinov
The struggle to calm continues.
I awoke this morning with a start. After determining my position, the day of the week and the hour of the morning, I quickly ascertained that operation church was still feasible. Awakening my pretty companion, I set myself on a collision course with the kids. Tess and Greg sang while Matthew carried the cross. I let the universe open within me.
My mommy and I are one.
I was reading Straight Dope and Cecil noted that this phrase "my mommy and I are one" has been shown to have very strong positive effects when delivered subliminally. I'm going to try incorporating the message into one of my confusion mixes. It feels strangely wonderful to say. We are such weird beings.
The eX is putting on weight rapidly. The Alcalde remains rather ugly but seems to be taking the grey out of his hair. One of the more amusing details of my journey has been the number of people who have commented to me on their surprise upon witnessing the physical unattractiveness of her companion. I don't hold any pretense to be a capable judge of manflesh - I can see the beauty some men embody, but I have no sense for the gradations.
My children are stunningly attractive. The most difficult part of weilding power is the tendency for our powers to turn against us. The bigger we are, the harder we fall. Teach your children well.
The heat of Texas August has been blistering. I survived a lawn mowing yesterday. My documentary education has taught me how to deal with heat more intelligently. The danger of heat is dehydration. The point of sweating is heat dissipation. So, the keys to survival are rehydrating and reducing heat generation - drink gatorade frequently and move slowly.
Calmer is cooler.
Time takes a cigarette
Puts it in your mouth
Malinov
wee hours, coming home
from adventurous travels
the glimpses and squeals
resounding
Malinov
Patterns of thought.
One day, last week, I wasn't able to take my adderall until almost 3pm. There was a mix-up at the pharmacy that took time to resolve. The inability to control my thoughts proved astonishing. I was soon in a near panic, craving the orange capsules that would restore my sanity.
I spent forty-two years in that storm. It is astounding that I managed to accomplish anything.
Speaking of which, I really should take my drugs before the madness returns to take the reins away. Ah, that's the stuff.
Malinov
It occurs to me that everything the eX has done makes sense if she truly believes that I am evil - not just badly intentioned but Darth Vader power of the darkside evil. Her behavior reflects an unmitigated fear - not of my harshness, which is relatively unseen, but of my kindness.
Whole lotta projection going on.
I'm a bit flattered to imagine that my good-natured easiness can inspire such terror. If only it didn't come with such a hefty dose of insanity.
Some of the frustrations of dealing with the woman are relentless. Insisting on raising the children stupidly - as if the children were stupid - is particularly irritating. I know I can't expect anything more from a moron, but it tears at my heart. Intelligent children need intelligent handling. Poor things, forced to endure mindlessness. I suppose it is a lesson we all must learn, but it isn't pleasant to watch from a distance.
Fortunately, the children already recognize the intellectual void that surrounds them. They may behave as commanded but disrespect will rot the relationship.
Malinov
My sister, working at a toy store, once had a manager. When the dude found himself abused at the hands of some angry female customer, he could be heard to say, "where's Johnny Wadd when you need him?" A bumper sticker leads to a rewrite leads to a reminiscence. Ain't life groovy?
The bumper sticker was a plea to "bring back Monica." I enjoy humor, even potentially political jokes.
In Virginia, we only lived a piece down the road from the infamous penis slicer. I was listening to the radio that morning. Mirthful DJs dutifully advised us to keep a look out for a disembodied wank. Harhar. Humor.
Of course, Howard Stern was fired from his DC gig when he called Air Florida and asked for a one-way ticket to the fourteenth streeth bridge. The Greaseman was fired from DC for his MLK classic - kill four more and get a whole week off. Oh, the funny never ends.
HR Puffenstuff. The world was a different place and not so different. Those of us who can boast of being doctors of law know this crew for the hurting they put on Mayor McCheese. Lidsville was instrumental in the bashing. Apparently, everyone used to be on drugs. Now look what Nancy hath wrought.
The first Nancy for me is Madame Friday. Few people can lay claim to personal responsibility for significant portions of my thought - Nancy didn't provide answers but rather gave me the evidence and her take on everything - there is much wisdom in her secret garden.
Malinov
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. Edgar Allen Poe, doncha know M
I will kill him.
There can be no excuse, no rationale, no pardon. The wrong must be avenged, will be avenged. Without restraint or remorse, the extermination of an insect, the annihilation of a pestilence, taken as a sacred quest, I am the hammer of God.
A loaded gun awaits my signal. The intensity culminates in a focussed blast that tears flesh and bone, spilling the guilty blood.
Ignominious death awaits the fiend. The sudden flash of pain will envelop his universe before the night descends in pitiful silence. His lies drown in a pool of escaped fluids, unspeakable in the thick amalgamation of his final breath.
A plague upon both his houses. May the destruction he has wrought be destroyed in his elimination.
I will kill him!
Malinov
Another weekend slides by. Already almost tomorrow, the drama races against the falling curtain.
I shouldn't let it vex me
I shouldn't take it hard
I should ignore their capering
with a kingly disregard
But look at all those idiots, look at all the boobs
. . .
That's why I'm singing the blues
Remaining calm within my life's continual streams of emotive eruptions is my struggle. The mind races for answers but the first step to finding answers lies in putting the mind at rest. A racing mind soon generates flawed analysis, based on incredible mis-estimations of cost and consequence. The "flight or fight" response is not built for reason, on the contrary. The only way to retain the capacity for reason in mortal danger is through establishing a stable calm at the core of our being. Excitement is easy - a cliff we can leap off anytime, but calm requires gentle focus, a sloping path accomplished by patience and determination.
Most people have no idea what calm actually feels like. Biofeedback is an excellent method to associate the experience with the label. The primary methods of accomplishing calm are a a relaxed posture, slowed breath release and conscious suppression of the ego - continual pressure to quiet the internal dialogue. Notice that the conscious suppression of the ego involves a contradiction, for the suppression of the ego cannot be accomplished by direct conscious efforts. However, by consciously undertaking methods of ego suppression like distraction or confusion, we can consciously quiet our conscious thoughts.
Our choice of words reflects our attitudes and affects our attitudes. Feedback is built into our system.
Letters and words have been considered sacred since letters and words were invented. The development of the human race is intimately tied to our use of language. Language has gone far beyond a method of communication - it is our a significant portion of our thoughts.
My first real attraction to writing rose when I began experimenting with the power that could be contained in a written word.
Certain sequences of letters will cause this blog to be unviewable to some readers. I can put any concept across for general distribution, so long as I avoid certain sequences. The data sequence offends. Curiouser and curiouser.
I like to find words that especially offend a person and use the word in ways that de-energize their aversion.
I have many things to think about.
Malinov
Dreams expand to envelop our consciousness, a flood of disconnected sensations burbling from within.
I have felt my spirit disengage from my body. I have felt the freedom of vital energies.
I have been betrayed, left with thoughts that invade me by the hour from first waking until my nightly collapse. The random roam of a streaming mind invariably visits one or another of my wounds, insistently reminding me to remember the pains I wish I'd never discovered.
Despite the court's command, my Bovary has retained many of my personal possessions. She has two boxes of my writing.
May God have mercy on their souls.
The anger does not erupt into flames, but continually smoulders. I am restrained by knowledge - any harm I inflict on the woman is transferred to my children. She has no restraint, seems almost eager to give her pain to the kids. It is a frustrating situation. I gnash my teeth and rend my garments as I wail in agonized anguish.
When I hear reports of fatal accidents, a dastardly portion of my spirit begins to hope. I have never wished harm to anyone, but I wish she could be stopped. I work to purge the vengeance from my soul. The Universe will unfold.
Our month with the children proved magical. Their distaste for the woman their mother has become poured from them all as they clung to us.
living in torment,
Malinov
Take note, for I tell you - compulsive calm is the condition that makes life enjoyable, liveable, productive, rewarding.
The children are starting to resist living with their mother. She has given me orders designed to assist her in forcing them home again. She doesn't realize that her words reveal her fears.
As do mine, I suppose. Every expression contains an element of our portrait, a reflection of the internal processes that existed in a given moment, even in the most unexpressive silence. There is no such thing as being unexpressive - we may be unexpressive on a subject of interest, but our living existence is an expression of our state.
Hold on - have to take a call from the Dali Lhama. You know how grumpy he gets when he's kept on hold.
Malinov
In forming a relationship, we find someone who is generally as broken as we are. This parity-of-brokeness is very important. One of the things that can disassemble a relationship is when one partner gets fixed while the other wallows along.
I can easily understand the beginnings of our relationship - the ways in which we were broken that provided some solution in each other. My timidity needed her fearlessness - her bravado needed my creative sense. Soon enough, however fear clashed with madness and our formulaic solution dissolved.
Can I mix metaphors, or what?
Ultimately, I am grateful to the eX - her insanity forced me to confront my madness, leading me toward the light of a new dawn. I doubt I would have discovered this perspective without the trouble she has caused me.
The calmness I am achieving comes from creating a compulsion to relax in myself - using the natural tendency of anxiety to cope in OCD by creating an obsessive need to calm my thoughts and slow my breathing. I used several tools in creating this condition, primarily self-hypnosis and suggestion, but the principal force was an insatiable desire to find a real and lasting solution to my bone-cracking anxiety.
If my adversaries were even a little bit smart, I could trust in their reason. Fighting with idiots is one of the most frustrating situations I have ever known. Anything short of a sharp blow to the head is empty. How do I work with people who don't know when to quit?
The kids are - sadly - back with their mother. The transition was apparently very unpleasant, as the kids had absolutely no desire to place themselves back in the hands of an idiot while their mother looks on, insisting on her own weakness. Tears and ugly words were their reception. It is unfortunate, but we gave the kids nothing but positive strokes and support. I feel bad for them all, but I cannot let myself agonize over situations I cannot control. I will, instead, do what I can to make things better.
Time to send another check to my lawyer. I charge twice as much as she does, so I guess I shouldn't complain.
Back to reality,
Malinov
It is sobering to realize that I spent fifteen years enchanted by a woman who was mean and selfish. It is difficult to sustain confidence when I have fallen victim to such betrayal.
I would never dream of treating anyone so maliciously. It continues to amaze me that she could be so nasty. I have always believed in the basic goodness of people. I love her, but she is not a good person.
Putting back together the shattered pieces of my heart has proved arduous. My innocence is slain. Love is a force rather than a purpose. I am happier, without question, freed of the anguish, released from her emotional torments.
Our relationship depended on my vigilant care for the child-woman. Our relationship ended when her demands for my attention exceeded my capacity. She sought attention elsewhere while continuing to demand my constant readiness. Never content, she would abuse me at every junction.
Finally, she met a man who persuaded her to take me down. They set about rob me of everything, including my children. Heartless, viscious and cold-blooded, they hid behind masks of a pathetic victim while cutting the flesh from the bone of two families. I would be dead from the attack, but for the grace of God and the love of friends and family. Not metaphorically dead, but really dead. She did her best to kill me.
Yet I live in a spirit of forgiveness. Not all the time, mind you, but I struggle to maintain. God will take care of their sins, his justice evident in the swells of negative energy that have begun to swirl around them. Their ugliness is unavoidable. Their evil reeks with the stench of death.
I can't let her continue to have custody. She doesn't care about anyone but herself.
Malinov
today
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005