Wednesday, June 01, 2005

The Isolate Tower

Was it Blake who stated the “path of excess leads to the tower of wisdom?” I’ve seen it you know, this tower, although it was but a glimpse, through a thousand miles of raging waves and clouds. It was the size of a pinhead from my perspective, but so sublime, and irrevocable. It’s a steadfast, ivory, shimmering tower where not a word is uttered in its solemn halls, only abstract ideas and thoughts. Surrounded by rocky shoals and raging waves, the only way to arrive to this forsaken isle is to don wings, like Icarus, cautious not to fly too close to the sun, and equally cautious not to fly too low, beneath the heavy clouds, headlong into the storm. This isle does not obey the laws of the compass, by the way. You will not find it on any of the world-maps man has so obsessively drafted over the past millennia.

I return to the dive bar that forever haunts my dreams. It teems with the same cast of characters: pawns, queens, and kings. Forever trapped in their cyclic dance of regret, lost bets - unwilling to change. I sit in the back in my usual spot, my stein of beer and a bowl of nuts my only company, along with my thoughts. As is typical when I need to think I come here, so I may observe, and drink my fill, pain to kill, rage to chill. The human drama plays out, like a Sophoclean tragedy performed in the round, as the smoke-stained walls buffer the howling winds, offering strength and solace. This structure, unlike its patrons, is structurally sound. Too many questions, not enough glasses. Fleeting answers spoken in riddles and feint whispers. They ask me: what makes a tragic figure? Is it one that falls from a great height, from a position of power, into obscurity away from the light? No evidence left except a broken hourglass, infinite shards and scattered sand, no one willing to sweep up the mess or extend a smile or a hand? Isn’t this what we all fear in the end… no not death, silly... but obscurity?

“The path of excess leads to the tower of wisdom.” I’ve studied this phrase extensively over the years, over the drinks, and I’ve concluded the following: the path of excess might assist to bring you here to this rainy isle, a feat unto itself, but to gain entrance into the tower itself? It is in fact pain that shall gain you admittance through those impenetrable gates. Excess is merely a precursor to pain that is a precursor to enlightenment. Tragedy, though, is a VIP pass my friend.

18 comments:

Kirsi Marcus said...

Tragedy is VIP pass to wisdome... that hits home, but you think pain is a precurser to enlightenment? Maybe I've been fortunate, but pain never brought me any moments of clarity, rather the opposite.

Your a word weaver Hermes, even aside from meaning the words flow together with poetry.

Poignant.

WordWhiz said...

"Excess is merely a precursor to pain that is a precursor to enlightenment. Tragedy, though, is a VIP pass my friend."

CRAP, Hermes...I don't LIKE to learn the hard way. I always end up HAVING to learn the hard way because I'm stubborn and wimpy and like to ignore the signs and just take the pleasant road. If the VIP pass is supposed to indicate that the enlightenment comes faster...I have to say that is not always the case. At least not for me.

WordWhiz said...

PS: Disco rules!!!

Hermes said...

Kirsi. There are always separate paths to the same destination. Some are harder than other, oftentimes, the harder paths are the quicker routes.

Danny. Perhaps not in the same tower... perhaps on the opposite side of the world, the opposite pole, there exists a black tower: of onyx or glistening obsidian. Shimmering in an anti-light? This might, just maybe...be where the opposite lies.

It would be oxymoronic and beautifully fitting don't you think? The ivory tower houses pain, and the obsidian tower, joy?

Wordwhiz. As I told Kirsi Jane, there is more than one path. I choose immediate gratification however.

Perhaps there is an unmarked, forgotten path, complete with a worn sign in neon lights reading ... "To Enlightenment. Do the Hustle."

WordWhiz said...

Hermes: Yippee...that's MY path!

Joe said...

The imagery in this piece reminds me a lot of World's End in the Sandman series. Was that one of your inspirations?

Scribe Called Steff said...

obscurity is my greatest fear. you're right.

the idea of being only a legend in my mind, never accomplishing any of my more grand aspirations would devastate me. i want to know there's a real loss when i leave this plane.

i want to be as great as i think i could be. the notion of never having that is the fear that keeps me from attempting it.

ah, reality, you're a bitch.

thelastditch.blogspot.com

Scribe Called Steff said...

and pain and tragedy have given me tremendous insight and clarity. i just choose to try and keep it private. it's probably wise we all do that.

Hermes said...

Sar. I think self-made millionaires are so much happier than trust fund babies. Fuck, I think one can be fucking broke and be happy, well-rounded, and spiritual. Hell, I am. I've eliminated "want" from my life, with respect to material things. Although, every now and then I JUST HAVE to buy that expensive shirt. But you know what, I enjoy it so much more when I finally do buy it. You and I, appreciate the good things.

Wordwhiz. I have the single finger pointed skyward.

Tacit. I hear you...the journey sucks. But after all is said and done you are able to sit back, take a deep breath, and KNOW you learned something new. You can KNOW you are somewhere completely new mentally and emotionally.

Digitalicat. I've never read it... but I think I may look into it next time I'm at the library. I love Neil Gaiman's work.

Steff. Our pain, or should I say, personal victories, are best kept private (unless you're like me) My scars are trophies not because I am proud of the fuck up's I made, but I am proud of how much wiser I am now. And no, wise does not mean jaded. I am quite optimistic. I can tell you and I are similair in this respect.

Joe said...

If you haven't read Sandman before, you should start at the beginning. In the collected volumes, World's End is number 8 of 10, so there's a lot of backstory you'd be missing.

Hermes said...

Digitalicat. The only Gaiman I've read is his recent Marvel series "1602." I've always wanted to get into Sandman but never knew where to start. I think I will now though. Which Trade Paperback would you consider "the beginning?"

Joe said...

I'd start at the beginning, with Preludes and Nocturnes. It doesn't get a lot of love because at the beginning Gaiman was trying to write a horror series. In later issues it morphs into something more like traditional fantasy. All the chapters in volume one are pretty solid, but three are exceptional. Plus, it's kind of like foundation reading for the rest of the series.

I have extra copies of volumes 1, 3, and 6. If you're comfortable sharing your address, I'll give them to you.

WordWhiz said...

How quickly fading are blogger memories.

Photos from the previous two parties - although not incriminating photos - were in the post I've linked below. I'm the blonde bimbo on the right in both images.

http://wordwhiz.blogspot.com/2005/05/go-retro.html

Adrian said...

And what can we leave behind us other than waste and debt? It's a nightmare I have.

Beautifully written. Eloquent, even.

There's tragedy, and there's also madness.

That was great. Thanks.

The Complimenting Commenter said...

An extremely well written post. Thank you for helping to clear up this phrase, if only slightly. Your words sound as if your VIP status has been confirmed. Keep up the wonderful posts.

Hermes said...

Sar. You know what I especially can't stand? When spoiled rich kids have the belief that "anyone" can become rich if they'd just try, and all poor people are either lazy or stupid.

What the fuck would you know about making money or starting a business when it's fucking handed to you?

Digitalicat. Yes, I would definitely be interested. That's very nice of you to offer. I'll shoot you an e-mail w/ my info.

Wordwhiz. Your next set of photos needs to be crazier. You know: stripping, people passed out on the floor in their own piss, with all sorts of shit drawn on them with felt pens...stuff like that

Aydreeyin. Thanks. Tragedy can sometimes be beautiful. Or perhaps it's the way we rebuild and overcome tragedy that is beautiful.

Complimenting Commenter. You know what I really like about you commenter? It seems as though you REALLY read posts before you leave a comment. It would be easy to pound through blog after blog leaving the same generic comment, you don't do this. Thanks.

What you are doing is beautiful and good.

WordWhiz said...

I agree with what you said about CC! Truly awesome!!

And I'll work on getting you some more entertaining photos. Not sure how I'll get them to you. If they're really humiliating...and I'm in 'em...I'm not posting 'em for public display!!! I've received the occassional comment from a teen blogger! (Which always gives me that jolt of panic, wondering what inappropriate thing I may have written!)

Scribe Called Steff said...

hermes, yeah, you're right. i'm pretty clued into the way of the world, but it doesn't beat me down and optimism always finds me, sooner or later. no matter how bad things get, i can always have a good time. ;) life's too short.