Day 23: Like the Chatter of a Beggar’s Teeth.
the reproduction on
the paper
of a magical action
that I have performed
in true space
with the breath of my
lungs
with my hands
with my head
and my 2 feet
with my torso and my
arteries, etc. — excerpt from 50 Drawings to Murder Magic
Act 2: Scene 1
Katelan sits in front of the altar gripping the paintbrush. Her other hand dips into water sloshing it onto the page. The paint brush smashes onto the paper in a violent motion, hand tightening, muscles stiff. The ink running all over the page. She grabs charcoal and furiously scribbles. A shape forms.
KATELAN: His hands grip pencils and charcoal differently than mine do. It’s tight, fast furious movements that rip the page. Electroshock therapy has not helped him, it’s only opened the portal wider. There are no walls to confine him anymore and he passes the time between smoke and mirrors. I mean that in the literal sense. I ask him to help me dream because I haven’t dreamt and I need to.
The Dream:
Warren and I were in London or going to London on a train. It was raining and
we were trying to photograph the scenery from the train and catch the rain drops on the windows at the same time. It was an old fashioned steam train and I was really excited to be sharing it with him. He had a different hat. I’m not sure if it was a fedora or not but it looked nice. He was wearing a black suit. The dream kept going from color to grainy black and white. You could smoke on the train and so he was smoking and I’m not sure if I was drinking a cocktail or coffee but it was in a flowered tea cup and I contemplated stealing the tea cup. I was wearing a form fitting black dress, my eyes were lined and I was wearing red lipstick. I was also wearing these short lacey? gloves. My hair was up and in finger waves I believe and part of my face was covered by a fascinator with mesh.
It was beautiful. I didn’t want it to end. It’s the first dream I
have remembered in a long time. I’m glad it was with him.
ARTAUD: She called for her grandmother to keep her safe from me. I gave her sound dreams and touched her skull. She slept soundly, peacefully, like the dead. She will trust me in the morning.
KATELAN: I won’t.
The Curtain Call:
I woke up with a need to be sipping coffee at a cafe while reading. I decided to walk to the bookstore on 86th and Lex. I would read excerpts from Ulysses. I did just that and walked back home as the sun set on NYC. I had to prepare myself. I’d be drawing again and I knew this time we would be truly drawing together.
I come into this late. He knows there is a reason.
Act 2: Scene 2
Katelan scrapes into the image with charcoal, ink, and pencil. She drops the pencil and shakes out her hand. Her eyes widen as she sees the figure emerging.
KATELAN: (Said coldly) You told me I got to choose what we drew. I said Samael. We just drew war birds.
Katelan huffs and shakes her head. She splatters auburn ink onto the page angrily.
ARTAUD: She is not angry at me. She is angry with herself. She has just realized we share visions and memories, that this hell is hers too. That these creatures from her past exist in many, those with madness see them most. This frightens her.
Strange noises start to fill the room, like scratching.
Katelan blows on the ink making it streak across the page. She puts the notebook down and stomps into the kitchen. You can here clamouring and then the cabinet slamming shut. She comes back into the room and pours large amounts of salt onto the painting.
KATELAN: This should not only shut you up for a while but also add a lovely texture. I’m going to bed.
ARTAUD: How sweet of you to use salt.
KATELAN: I thought I told you to shut it.
Katelan climbs into bed turning out the light.
Act 2: Scene 3
Katelan lies in bed thinking about astral projection. She slowly starts relaxing her body to prepare for it. Instead she falls asleep. A black mist fills the room and hovers over her, gently caressing her face.
ARTAUD: (Whispers) Sleep, sleep dear one. Tomorrow you have a big day ahead of you.
CURTAIN
All true language is incomprehensible, like the chatter of a beggar’s teeth. - Antonin Artaud
I slept 6 hours.
Dream:
Warren dream
Body:
Walked from Queens to 86th and Lex. Gingerbread latte and books
Art:
See above
Mood:
Stirred
Oracle:
From Ulysses: “Co-ome thou lost one, Co-ome thou dear one.
Oddities:
The black cat. Melissa calls it the “Shadcat” has been all around watching and following me. QPI is behaving.
Skull from both sides.
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