Starting today I’m showing readers over at my Substack how a pattern-recognizing Virgo Earth Horse like myself is handling the year of the Fire Horse, so check it out.
I have about 250 pages of unpublished research I’ve compiled since the start of this year to edit, revise, and publish as I beat the figurative dead horse and expose the creative output of David Lynch for what it is: a confession.
The fishing metaphor is an apt one to use when it comes to understanding those who mimic natural processes in order to conceal the dangerous hook used to catch you.
Fly-fishing appears prominently in season 2 of Twin Peaks when Agent Dale Cooper suggests he might buy some land and retire to this idyllic fictional town with heavy undertones of Missoula, where fly-fishing has been deeply encoded into this town’s cultural identity thanks to Norman Maclean.
But that’s just the surface of things, where thin screens mediate shallow engagements with reality. If you want to go deeper, just start getting curious about the data staring you right in the face in places like the Missoula County Courthouse, where brief bios of past Sheriffs hang on the wall for all to see.
The name echo of “MacLean” (no relation to Norman) isn’t the only thing interesting from this Sheriff bio describing the man holding this elected position the year David Lynch was born at St. Patrick’s hospital in Missoula. Also noteworthy is the fact Robert MacLean belonged to a Masonic Lodge and presided over the last execution in the state of Montana on the now-auspicious date of September 10th.
Of course, I would argue that the Missoula County Sheriff’s Office is STILL executing people, like Sean Stevenson and Johnny Lee Perry, but that’s just me apparently.
This past week I wrote posts ranging from exposing a shocking lack of security at the Bitterroot’s BSL-4 lab in Hamilton, to an ugly dirty-laundry post about my own family relationships in this new age of excusing mothers for murdering their children, so to better see how these things are related in my “mentally ill” mind, here’s a poem I wrote, a poem that hints at the fact I have the best recorded evidence yet about what happened to Sean Stevenson, and why.
the vector of the virus
used to be my wife and
when I sailed the box-wine sea
I used to have a life
but strife it comes in many forms
storms, cartels, and death
then edges quickly disappeared
once badges stopped his breath
on rivers insect hatches provide
opportunity to blend
something fake for a fish to take
with a hook to kill or send
back into the water, or
perhaps into a pan
not the god Jack Parsons sang to
but the cast-iron of man
the jester of the palace
used to have free reign
but, they say, the worm invaded
the King's once-sovereign brain
insanity does not encompass
the fantasy's dark scope
stop it with the Unicorns, or
start back up the rope
huggingface the skynet chase
is more buggy than drugs
itching underneath the skin
into holes no bandaid plugs
fuck the algorithm and
tucking tail to run
you can have the moon all night...
I'm watching close the sun
One final note, while transcribing this poem for today’s post, the music playing through my iPod’s “shuffle” function spoke to me, which has been happening so explicitly lately with my “shuffle” function, a less grounded person might let this phenomenon destabilize them.
For example, while writing a poem about Lynch’s “Black Lodge”, the Anthrax song “Black Lodge” started playing. Then, a few days later, while responding to an email from Adam, who used to do the podcast, titled “Debra Gets Red Pilled”, the Beck song “Debra” started playing.
And today, while transcribing the above poem–which references Sean Stevenson and his euthanized death via the coroner after being put into a coma with a rear-naked CHOKEHOLD–a song from Shipping News started playing, a song with the word “chokehold” coming from my speaker (from a song titled “Now That Your Diamond Lined Star Is Failing You, What Fair Silhouette Would Best Suit This Satellite?”)
Weird? I’d say so. But maybe, after September 19th, the depths of what I’ve been dealing with since Sean Stevenson’s death on January 5th, 2020, will be a little more clear.
Thanks for reading!