I think my source of anxiety I noted yesterday but forgot is professionalism and social—
I think [on] self-shaping and self-imagining and godhood. I remember Promethea and the latest Promethea’s self-tapping of that force, that narrative via her research and imagining, I think, herself as Promethea.
I continue to read The Invisibles, and I see why _____ told me to read it all those years ago. I read Old Tom Bedlam’s “training” of Jack, and I can see how halthaya would paint it as cult indoctrination. But Tom points to the galaxies and realities we can hold in our heads even as we limit ourselves, to obey others, even as we hold on to old trifles and turn them over again and again in our imaginary hands. We mistake the desires of our hurur and our appetites as our desires.
Tom runs Jack through that and the Chaos Tongue—not identifying with emotions, but acknowledging them. He also attacks Jack to rip him from the hurur he’d built around to arm himself.
There’s a kind of meta-awareness noted last night that can carry over while aligned and attentive.
I like how Morrison has these big fuck all acts in TI that you know he (probably) never did, like leaping off Canary Wharf tower.
There’s a sense of my other lives, of other things I’ve been doing that I don’t quite recall, and I feel like I can access those more, not by grasping at them but by sliding myself into those experiences and moments and places. How time works for them, I’m not sure—I feel uncertain.
Image: Tree and Sky (mine)