To stare at the depths of the ways we twist one another into such terrifying shapes, shattering ourselves through the reflection of other, is to be harrowed and humbled and faced with eyes wide open if we are to ever understand anything, even the most mundane pieces of ourselves. You do not mend your pieces without integrating the other in yourself. This is, of course, a message to myself delivered to pixel dust. This is a divine meditation on Edmund Kemper, a man who ultra-literalized his inner demons in others and killed repeatedly, finally realizing, however, that the source was nearby. He went there and he face that momster and killed it. Again, over-literalizing, but at least knowing whom it was he actually needed to slay. This a disclaimer: Eddie might have done better with the eight arms of yoga. Now, in my mind, I have him narrating the audio book version of Jung's Red Book. This is meant as an exorcism. Culture and self. An exorcism of a dark maternal archetype through internal integration. Deliteralized to release. The oscillation between literalisms of Sade and Rousseau transcended.
I wonder what it's like to read a whole book aloud. I wonder why I've never considered it.
I wonder if it's trancelike. It could be dangerous. Maybe Emily. Perhaps already.
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