John Hamler wrote:
My father once gave me an HP Lovecraft anthology thing when I was a teenager. Told me it was supercool, superfreaky stuff. I didn't really appreciate it at the time, but I do now. Once you grasp and realize the utter insignificance of humanity vis-a-vis the universe, once you've come to that conclusion... Well, then your imagination can really take wing. It's a cynical purview, but not entirely void of passion or joy. There are still plenty of thrills and yucks to be had. In fact, it's kinda like walking around, being Bill Murray.
Recently the HBO show True Detective revitalized the forgotten art of the turn of the century Gothic or Weird fiction genre with its arcane references to THE KING IN YELLOW -by Robert Chambers- and the fabled evil city of Carcosa. A kind of Hell in a cosmic/parallel dimensional sense, not a religious one:
Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies,
But stranger still is
Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Song of my soul, my voice is dead,
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
Rather along the same lines as your Rupert Brooke poem, no?
Love the first line of the poem. Life, so magnificent, and yet so, so nothing... in the big, BIG scheme of things and life forms. I give a lot of thought to death now, having come so close to it over the last three years (autonomic hyperreflexia!, AH!... twice! and states of physical being that I would not wish on any living creature.).
To see stars, when dizzy; what is that vision? Well, I'm not sure, but I saw the universe of all universes, just before I fainted... and I'll never forget that hallucination!!! As I hallucinated this spinning ginormous universe in my brain, I also heard words not too unlike this poem. And while I saw my dying universe of syncope, I asked myself... is this what dying is all about? Am I now dying?
In fear and terror I screamed out for my wife to call an ambulance... and this saved my life. I was heard, not unheard... not lost in Lost Carcosa, or Costa Bravo or Costa Mesa (lol).
And after this hallucination (and a week in the hospital), I was no longer a virgin in life, sheltered from the reality of death... death will screw with a person, in disease, in mental aberrations that can send chills up and down the spine... ah, the spine, it is really a big part of the brain, of the psyche of fear and trembling and chills and shaking. But most of us don't realize it. Ah, but what is this thing called horror?
Can there be a Mother Time, a Goddess of Death? If so, this Goddess of Death embraced me in her warm folds of time and space, but left me an escape route, a last scream for help. Now, I can never doubt that my death will be real, a physical end to my cherished brain function, and a winding down of all that is my soul, a soule that exists in the minds of loved ones, friends and others.
Lost Carcosa... all death is a neurological condition, an hallucination that becomes so real... and then life fades out, as some place in our brains just shuts off... this thought kills me each time I think of it!
The self: a Lost Carcosa, a once human, a found corpse... naked on a bathroom floor.
Scared the life out of me... almost! But I lived!