#also the fact that ive watched cj the x's video essay ''the kronk effect'' (aka you are to live in the service of art) is really showing

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sometimes i feel my story nagging at the back of my mind, gnawing, clawing, breathing down my neck, demanding "i need to exist", "i want to exist"; its desire and will powerful and overwhelming.

when it will be written, it won't be the most beautiful or smart or sophisticated story ever, i know that even now, it may even come to be overall unremarkable; and yet towards it i feel sheer, unfiltered awe, simply for the fact that it is a story and posseses a will to exist, a great and awesome will, and i am the sole witness of it, the sole prophet and worshipper to this decisive power. a story, it feels to me, is a separate mode of being, something vaguely and imcomprehensibly conciousness-like, but abstract and untethered, while human conciousness is unseparable from the intimacy and realness of us being animals. a story needs us, our animal bodies and lives and minds, our hands and mouths and neurons, to help it become real, to take it and bring it onto earth: something halfway between a symbiotic relationship and a religious experience. i find myself subservient to it, to art as universal divinity and to my story as my personal deity that embodies the former.

this loyalty to sublime makes me feel more at peace and in tune with the mundane than anything ever before it. i realize, in a sudden grace of acceptance, that in order to serve my story, to write my god i need to be alive, a blessed animal, and to be alive i need to take care of myself, which means i have to do the dishes and find a job and various et cetera; everything shifts and makes perfect sense. i no longer feel confused or burdened as to "why should i bother", and my body moves lighter and easier.

but the thing about unwritten stories is that they don't yet exist in any physical sense, not as electronic signals or pigment on paper or air vibrations or projected light or anything else; my story in its full form resides only in my head, and thus my awe and loyalty and service towards it are directed, ultimatey, unto myself, in the most sefless and selfish fashion simultaneously — self-love through division and synthesis. to serve art is to love yourself, and to love yourself is to make sure you're alive; to want your story to exist is to want yourself to exist. it's a complex system, but beautiful. with that thought, i'll go finish the dishes, and maybe cook something.

#vikarambles #writing #ive read the washington post article on The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations Millenium General Assembly #and it did something to my brain #when i say that out of all arts my relationship to literature is the most special sacred intimate and fucknut bonkers this is what i mean #literature owns me like an animal (like christian god's lambs) and like a prophet and i own it like the universe and like my guts #also the fact that ive watched cj the x's video essay ''the kronk effect'' (aka you are to live in the service of art) is really showing #watch that essay it's really good it has the power to change you as a person if the circumstances are right #btw the story that haunts me like a golden bird of prey is. dghda android dirk au #but this post isnt about the merits of projecting my health issues onto dirk gently and making lydia transgender and #giving everyone heebie jeebies and really Really fucking up the s1 plot structure #its about the general power and wonder and magic of literature and self-love #but yeah it is also about that au. for some reason over the past few months ive developed an Attachment towards it #i hope ill be able to write it... it Really wants to exist im not kidding