Live Concerts are a Holy Place, for me.

Live concerts are holy, to me. There is almost no other place, in the whole world, where people are more in tune with who they are and who they want to be and the sad, breaking, crushing, uplifting conjunction and juxtaposition of those things, as when they are in the presence or performace of live music.

Music is magic.

Tonight was like Jesus, Allah, Buddha, YHWH, Krishna, Shiva, Kali, Bast, Hera, Freya, Inana, the universe and my Self all slit open their wrists, all at once, and said to me "Take. Drink. This Is My Blood. This Do In Remembrance of Me."

Sxip Shirey, The Red Paintings, Dames Aflame, and The Dresden Dolls.

Four nearly continuous hours of music and performance....

I am in a holy place, and this is the choir.

We preach to you, that you may sing it louder.

Randy Milholland teaches you about Jesus.

No. Seriously. Watch a good Christian man get fed the fuck up.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

That's it, for now. I'm off to kill time by watching the West Wing.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes... Thesis talk.

I feel, to use an ethnic slur that most don't realise is an ethnic slur, gyped. I feel like i've been cheated out of my prize, because people don't understand things the way they should. The way they could, if they tried.

I knew this would happen, in a way. Too much ease, in certain areas. But I am calm. I have a plan. The work to be done is work I need to do, anyway. It... needs to be done.

An historiographical analysis of the concept of magic, and how the changing of the concept has changed the world. Meta-magic. Meta-thesis. Shit like that. I'm not pleased.

But people older than me, more experienced than me, people who understand what telling me this means, to me, have told me that there is not enough time. There is not enough space, in the Master's Thesis to speak on all pof the things, in enough depth. And they are wrong. They are wrong, becuase of the folding, the bending of time and space that I was planning to do, to get this done. But I am wrong. I havfe to start my folds somewhere, and I don't have the time to take the time and fold the time to explain to them why this is a good thing. Why it works as well as it does.

We are all still learning, and we are setting our paths in front of us.

At some point I was going to have to lay an historical groundwork, anyway. I was going to have to explain to people how we've arrived at the places where we stand, in order to better explore those spaces. To not do so would make me one of the largest hypocrites in any of the fields in which I am working, and not in a good way.

But I still feel like I'm... not getting what I want. And it is about that: What I want. I recognise that, and my recognition of that, makes me feel petulant and small. Whiney. Bratty. Because this is what I need. I'm not caving in to anyone's demands. I'm assessing the situation, clearly, completely. I'm looking at the thing as itself. I can do this, in this space. I can get people to understand this set of concepts, now, and lead them from there into the larger problems. The modern-day concerns.

But I want what I want. And I will get it. Make no mistake.

You've all said, thought, dreamed, dreaded, and cried yourself to sleep at night to the thought, at one point or another, that I should write a book. Fear not. Or fear greatly, as the case may be. Our will be done.

I finished the Creative Loafing story, tonight. Time to send it in.