Rosenbush Café

“We are born at a given moment, in a given place and, like vintage years of wine, we have qualities of the year and of the season of which we are born. Astrology does not lay claim to anything more.”

—Carl Gustav Jung

Coming later: eXisTenTiaLNihLisT returns from the abyss to explore the profound emptiness of death and rebirth and the problematical, albeit philosophically challenging, acceptance the loss of love and friendship entails.

Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, Carl Gustav Jung, Cesária Évora, Raymond Chandler, Anaïs Nin and Greek mythological creatures join in the personal quest of enlightenment and deconstruction of one individual’s soul as it comes to term with mortality and a pseudo-scientific approach to l’art pour l’art; art for art’s sake.

There are dire consequences to sharing one’s yearnings with strangers and like chronological primitivism the answer lies in the distant past.

Surviving last April’s tornado liberated and impeded myriad metaphorical possibilites, and like The Seirênes’ irresistible songs, lured this faux mariner onto clashing rocks where death was welcomed rather than feared.

How quietly bizarre to live when death is expected, accepted but denied? Surviving death is, perhaps unsurprisingly, anti-climatic and once sentience re-emerged, via quantum telepathy at the speed of neutrinos, felt like a cochlear concussion.

The cosmic alignment approaches and while a fearful and angst-driven humanity unleashes suffering on itself it is reassuring to taste the madness in fugues of the fortuitously opaque molecular breakdown with a casual lack of concern.

Insouciance and I are still friends and pray for gravity to collapse and all to fall off the Quadra Bridge.

And, anacoluthically proud to confound the minions.