Oh, since I'm reading the Bible for the 'first' time. And it's nothing new to you here's some material that's impacted me in a way. (And there's a story behind it.)
You might know why, but I've struggled with the work of Philip K. Dick. (Mostly in the form of film) Also there's a really good documentary about R. Crumb out there that fascinated me. His work is subsidiary to the life he has lived in this doc. Regardless of anything else the two may have created (because I've never really read any of their other work), it is R. Crumb's illustration of The Religious Experiences of Philip K. Dick that brought together two unlearned impressions, which moved something inside me. (I'll let you guess what these were unless you would like to ask me)
Backstory
It was at the end of my friend's trip to Chicago. We had nothing else to do so we went to Barnes & Noble. He's not what could be described as "the reading type" (as I myself was for the longest time due to unspoken reasons, which I should dive into these reasons as our discussions expand). That is where I found this collision of worlds, that I hadn't expected, as my friend wandered through the aisles of books. I stood up reading it for a while enwrapped and then finally took a seat. Some of the ideas and images passed by me as not much developed, but I sat there and in actuality thought about how one could really believe the hypothetical reality that he presents was truth. (I think it helps if one has had experience with the subject matter.)
Some of the ideas were really powerful to me such as the greek term, anamnesis, for 'loss of forgetfulness.' And it was interesting to me that someone who was nonreligious would assume such a role as 'secret christian' (if only in his imagination). I was more keenly alert of my surroundings, but thinking back on it also clearly not effected by the thought that everything around me had the chance to feed into indulging this writer's pretexts. Well, we got out of there.
I dropped my friend off downtown and dropped by the library. After having looked over some dvds, I had to head downstairs to go to the bathroom. I was in the stall when there was some mulling about outside of it and then a knocking on the door. I said 'someone's in here' or something to the effect. But the guy started talking to me in the stall. I had been taking my time and so I decided to hurry it up (call it quits) so I wouldn't have to be relieving myself in the middle of an interaction.
When I got out I saw this lumbering dude, all in black. He started talking to me and I realized it was someone that once stood outside the U.C. (University Center Dorms). I told him that I recognized him and he said in a wonderment that he recognized me. He asked why I never came up to him and said hi. I said it was because he always had so many other friends (Kids would always walk up, give greetings and chat). He says that these weren't really his friends. I believe I asked why he was at the library next, positing that it's the best place to relieve one's self. He said no it's because he liked reading comics. I said 'really?' partly in disbelief. (Realize that up until this point I'd never explored the world of comics before. It was something new.) And he said, 'yeah I have a collection of over 3,000 (or 2,000... I forget)' At this, ashamedly, I scoffed and asked 'where?' He said that he had a place. (Later on, he would take me to meet a woman that he called his mother, but hinted at the fact that she wasn't his biological mother instead she was someone who had assumed this role for him. She gave us food, it was a great gesture.)
His name was Tracy. (He would tell me that he had aids and he would take a cocktail to relieve the symptoms, but the effect that his condition already had on his health was apparent. One of his legs was lame and his skin was dry and peeling on all his limbs. He said that he quit using heroin because of his deteriorating health.)
Next he offered to show me one of his comics(one that I still have to this day). It's weird, I was in a very lonely way at the time. He asked me to read allowed. (I guess it only made sense since we were to somehow read this comic together and I had a fleeting thought that maybe he asked because he wasn't the most adept reader.) Also I felt this was a sort of fatherly thing for one to ask through a childish activity. (Kind of endearing.) Well, the comic was a doozy and I fell into it.
It was about this villain named 'Sir' who had stolen the Daredevil's costume. He thought that anything not male was weak and not worthy of life. And the best way to exercise his 'maleness' was to kill as many people as possible and cause destruction. (I was fascinated at how Tracy could be so absorbed in this world. I would later take pictures of some of his own sketches.) At this point he told me about his tour in Vietnam. And the only way I can now describe what he said, at the time it was so shocking, is by way of action. He held his hands against imaginary steel as if supporting a past memory and strafed across the landscape in that basement rotunda.
Out of my state of amazement, he stated that he was 'teaching me so much in such a short period.'
The comic was about identities. (In the end, Sir remembers that he is a woman.) Daredevil, on the other hand, had rejected his past by way of a bought of memory loss (brought on presumably after a devastating fight with Sir). In the end, this stray Daredevil went on to realize that he was the original ('He was Murdock and Jack Batlin' though I don't really know what that means). His identity shows back up again as he combats Sir. Then memories flood back about a tragic defenestration that had resulted from his own reckless action in a frenzied situation. It rains. He realizes he is blind and cannot see himself in the mirror. He cries.
I still have the comic, he gave it to me along with another at another time that we talked. He didn't ask for money that time, but he did the other times that we met. I, later, gave it to him, and asked if I could take some pictures. Superficial interactions at their best.
That's all I remember.
I know this is too straight-forward and transparent for the subject matter, but recognition of my own flawed past, that had long been secret, is retrospectively reflected in this act of remembrance indelible to all these characters (including Tracy the man I met). My past habits had only been relayed as a feeling in the past and so were only assumed as an identity when I was acting on said feeling (or possibly now when remembering an action potential). I know there is something there that can never be undone. I may never forget, but I'm at an impasse. I don't know how to think of it in any real terms. (as to somehow make up for it. Something that I don't feel needs to be forgiven, but has alienated me from certain regular human relations and thus maybe does need to be addressed by the act of forgiveness.) From this experience, it's as if I am unable to control (or relate to) part of myself that has branched from my unconscionable act. (Though once it was done, I couldn't take it back. Excuse my bluntness, but it was my sexual genesis.) This act made so little sense in itself that, in effect, I caused a disconnect between that part of my life and any other. For all intents and purposes the impression that I have given off being a normal functioning, sexually-open and active male has been wrong. It's more of a binary for me. Yes or no. Sex was never really based on giant throws of passion, but instead a mindset that I was fighting against. (the right to explore myself sexually, which is ironic because in being so forceful/dead set against opposition/restriction I ended up ultimately channeling all my energy into a dead end) And since I never really decided to temper myself, other than by turning my sexuality off completely (which I've been able to do except when most often in a set setting I'm decidedly 'on,' being drawn in, or in the heat of the moment one could say), I never developed deep inferences from the process. Or much free associated thought at all, except impulse towards that which was already a part of the conventions of society. Most likely because this was accessible. (also this is the turf I had fought for as it was the most obvious threat my parents detected and thus it's where they had focused.)
This deadened my clear feelings regarding the subject and eventually those of right and wrong (which I so often asserted in my childhood). A mess that was quite easily made being brought up in societal surroundings characterized by a disintegration of the process of thinking and of emotional responsiveness (the medical definition of schizophrenic) in my opinion. (That's not to say that society is decidedly immoral, but rather amoral and this, in my opinion, does allow for a break with the assumption of responsibility or blame or whatever...)
Full disclosure is the name of the game. Hopefully then inside myself there can be a shriveling of the initial roots that took hold and the disconnect that I had control over will be rejoined to further understand the past. Right now, in my life I need to be able to talk openly with others so that this will shed light on the animal natures that have had an impact on my behaviors. You all have not misunderstood me (at least to my face) and I believe that I am blessed because there could be no better relationship to start from.
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