Child mind of the over mind of Burning Man, August — will see the descendence not of Pagonry, or blasphemy, but of celebration. Not seeing further — arrogance of ones awake – yet only seeing the World for what is or could be.

Wonder, in art, and congruence. The comingling, coagulation of the many souls who would pry, build and create beauty from ether, the ether of minds, forged to being, forged to the Playa grounds on which Muses play.

A celebration, not of debauchery or revelence, but of revelation that this world, this time, this place, wherever one stands, Here. Is now, and has beauty, whole and true. The creativity will spin its web as time marches never on to our small selves, but marches ever on to the gathering of the Few. Not more awake, just peeking, a small bit, under the covers, of life.

-A volunteer.

I had no words.

I realized walking through this empty grocery store. Perfunctory motions. An automaton. I was here, because I had nowhere else. A pretense, for leaving my apartment.

A small child, amiss his mother. Smiling girl. Happy couple. Derelict man. I had no words.

If I wasn’t careful I’d fade out and stop moving. Perhaps stand. Like a mannequin. I realized the terror of someone speaking to me.

I had no words, to say. Who, were these people? What, are these people?

An older couple. Serene. Approach anxiety. As I pass them, to return the eggs I didn’t need. Three circles around the aisles. Aimless. Terrified, this wise old man, who, may see me. Sorrow bleeding from my eyes, these mirrors that can’t hide my heart – say, words. “its going to be alright” or some such syllable. Terror, as I know that would send me not into a mannequin, something to pass by the wayside, ignore, blend into the background, no. Send me into a lost, young boy. Crying slowly. Tall, angry, sad and crying.

Checkout. “Can you sign this? Have a great night.”

The words, “Thank you. Y-you too.” Gravel out of me. As if I hated the motion of my mouth. The effort of speaking. The emotion of words, the falsity!

Car. I sit. Lighting a cigarette. Numb. I shouldn’t even be driving. I am liable to missattention and hit something. Someone. How many more, like me, are out there? On the precipice of passive or intent of violence through omission? To self, or others. These people, in an empty world. I have no words.

I have no words, to say.

I Should have…

I should have stayed

I should have cried

I should have done,

Something else.

And I walked away. Leaving the tears,

The hurt and pain

in puffy, pretty cheeks,

behind.

Sorrow wells in me.

That vice, on your

Heart, no dust, expands

To clentched teeth.

Where a feathers breath

Can crack hard façade.

I can’t stay, or, I will cry

If I cry, I won’t stop

If I don’t stop, only

Pain will make it,

Go away.

Pain comes in black streaks

Of blood.

Clawed knives and scalpels,

Fists in brains.

Numb my heart

Vice no more.

But Pain

My hands blaze passionate streaks of red…across the forhead, war signs of pain splattered from within.

Souls lost, found never more, falling into darkness…the red burns.   Cracks of shattered glass, my hands.  Blood to myself, fearing no more the pleasure of the pins and needles of nerves breaking, rending, tearing, finding faith and fire from the depths of decrepit…Pain.

The only thing that’s real…a man once said.  A visionary once said.  A man who knew that the dark abyss of loss, the well of despair, the failure of the human spirit to be reached only, utterly, and finally…by Pain.

Irreconcilable.  Forever Scarred.  Cartlidge of white-knuckled scar-tissue.  Cracks of pain, shattered glass, needles of fire.
Pain.
Find the fire storm.  Feel the furries of the elements. Those inner demons, those terrible raging waters of hate.  The typhoon that sucks and tears you apart.  Find it.  Stare it in the face.  See into the mirror that is self.  Find your pain.
Find and follow and fall and falter and burrow beneath the earth to find comfort. In cold, sticky, wet and humid environs, burrow hard and fast find your way out the fire, out the pain, oust the needles and douse the flames.  Fire scorching, live wires of shock rampant through your brain…  What now?  What now…
What.

Now.

Ramblin on..

Self dissolves at death to the ocean, as a drop, back to home, the whole, the all of itself. Reborn, in conscious evolution, to another life. Only when the variable of physical matter is solves as immaterial, does death devolve and, humanities minds become one, an over-consciousness. Making it, what you will.

Movie: on death: “How you can be all things. And all at once.”

Hereafter in our dying light, in sisters and brothers, mothers and dads, the pale sun dies before retinal eyes, while spaces, in all, is black.

Lights, like, a firestorm, unknown to the physical man. Spirits, ghosts, departed the flesh, is but a journey. Run it well, and into the ax grind of life.

Live pleasure, and love, and pain. Passion fises far into the east.

Sorrow to the west.

And in the lands of living and dying, awe paves the way. Awe paves the way.

[link blog Death is the road to Awe]

__

Do you see too much? Do you see too little.

The spaces between, this life and that.

An infinite multitude, ether proportions, emotions, unsworn words. Unsaid.

And gone, shuttered to the wind.

Physics lost, a life gone.

What is, and never was. [or, could be]

__

Meta

Life

Living

people – experience

- genetics

Buddhist reincarnate

Death

X

/return

__

X = - Karmic reborn

- soup / ocean / whole

- Conscious created Heaven | Hell

- Afterlife

- overconsciousness

- nothingness / mote, in a God’s eye

__

/death life > death > life var living > f(life) > var(living) > death_ var(people)_ function(self)_ var(experience) : var(genetics)

Once again, rewritten in Python in the future.

The space of the physical realm collapses to alt-reality of intertwined realities, a millisecond to infinity, in the space of an atom, vibrations react, shift and create New reality.

Work in process (WIP)

Thus

Function (P) People

Var (rp) reality : physical

Var (ar) alt-reality

Var (thr) thread of reality

Var (per) perspective [a bubble, bouncing around, our consciousness or Brains in a jar, placing this way and that, functioning purely biologically with the shaping of brain restricted patterns of neuron nets of social feedback and “norms”]

Function (P) : Var (rp) | MetaFunction (PM) Physical World |

Function (RS) Reality Space

Function (P) : Var (ar) | MetaFunction (AR) Alternate Reality |

Function (AS) Alternate Space

Profer (R) | Function (RS) : Function (P) | Singular world perspective re: Function (P) |

Uni ()

Profer (AR) | Function (AS) : Function (P)^n | Multi world perspective re: Function (P) |

Multi ()

Looks wrong below: describe P function of people as having one infinite perspective but one thread

then describe people as multiverse retaining singular function P [one person] with infinite threads of selves

then, perspective of infinite threads of all people, P^infinity~

Uni() | restricted Var (thr)^ Function (P) | Function (RS)

Uni () | Function (RS) Function (P) 1 : Function (P) | Var (per)^N

Multi () | infinite Var (th)^ Function (P) | Function (AS) : Function (P) ^ Function (RS) ^n~0  [~ to var  always, ergo, always to one thread of reality)

Multi () | Function (AS) ^ Function (P) |

A world of people, we live in our own self, our own reality. We will never, with psychology to psychedelics to self introspection see the world, completely from another parsons. From another's life, all of the threads that they have experienced, and the hopes, dreams or fears (mostly fears) of future threads of reality.

What, of a world, profer; where one P can interact with another P, seeing all of the Function (RS)

This would become Function (AS)

All threads of humans / people, with the ability to step into another Space, see’s the entirety of that others perspective. Popping in and out, seeing, intimately all hopes, dreams, naked and laid bear.

Retaining this, as a buzzing peripheral vision [never leaving your own memory bank, you “retain” that person, and that person “retains” you [make retain an output].

Those people retained jump [var?] into another, and another, and another, retaining ever more information.

Would this, lead to an overconsciousness, where time disappears, the P of all P ~^N infinity

leads to AR, alternate reality space, infinity AR Multi() AR :: P^infinity | “God” Archetype [output [A] archetype]

A single person jumps, into another, retaining that knowledge. Those two people, jump into every person touched around them, slowly, while retaining themselves individually, but becoming connected to all the persons in the world. Would our physical selves disappear into consciousness dissipated, a synchronization across realities, where, even a single physical vessel dies, you are “retained” and thus live on forever as long as humanity persists.

Humanity persisting = a genome bank of all the memories and knowledge of mankind, lifting selves above singular thread perspectives into multiverse infinite threads of possibility perspectives, where physical drops away to [output] higher consciousness.

And over soul. The one, the God Archetype Output (A)

This exists already. Output (dreams) what are, dreams? The most vivid, lucid dreams are more real then any singular memory from any traumatic (positive or negative) then any other accessing of the human subconscious.

Why is this so?

What,

are dreams.

Bubbles, crashing, accessing all other bubbles of reality, becoming metareality, but only, in REM, only, in sleep. The accessing of “where” our mind goes, when our body crashes, rejuvenates for the next day of the only reality of time, Present, we can access.

Edit1: Well, need to rewrite this in Python sometime.

"I can’t free will into his brain."

I had the pleasure of seeing a QA and book reading (well, was really off the cuff actually) by David Eagleman, with his new book Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain.

The brain is fascinating, more powerful then the combined computer capacity of the entire spectrum of computing power (argumentative, but nothing can imitate consciousness, ergo, Moot.) The more one dives into Neuroscience, the more uncomfortable people of all spectrums get over "free will" and eventually, religion, the "spirit" etc.

That is fine..Eagleman is not here to hit you over the head that you have no free will, rather, he states he cannot conclude one direction or the other. More rational then really any other path to take. Silly to assert a singular knowledge of free-will, or lack of free-will, as it cannot be proven or disproven, I dare say!

tldr;

• Brains are not created equal, are constrained like a net via environment, genes and past experiences. This constrains actions / reactions, but does not forgive actions chosen by other people to be against social structured norms. Custom penal brain treatment is a necessary (or idealic) future. You cannot "will" your way into certain things..try changing your sexual preference.
• Eagleman pronounces psychopathy "psychAWpUthy," amusing! Our cortex seems to be the "magic" of making humans, human.
• "oh, sanity is a legal, not a scientific term, just to be clear" | "life is too complicated and crime is too circumstantial"

/tldr

>is Eaglemen

This is me

Start:

Look for comparisons to Neuropath. Already, very cogent.

>Man has written for Wired (audio), several other publications, a "expert" guest on television, specifically celebrities, "why" oh "why" do people do what they do, etc. Has an intense focus into criminology, rehabilitation and a rightful disdane for the American Prison system.

>Our brains are made up of Billions of neurons each as "complex as a city" (it is so hard to wrap ones head around micro and macro examples..what is a trillion dollars [link blog, scale of our minds, the inability to grasp: excercise, picture 1 person. Picture 5, duplcates, picture 10, 10 x 10, picture..10 of those 10..find pic] what is a neuron?]

>We are at a strange point where, by examining our own brains, we are basically computer systems turning their own web camera’s inside, into the circuitry and guts, of its own mechanisms (he has a fondness for Mechanical comparisons, which is interesting in itself)

>1 cubic Centimeter of the brain (did he say CM?) roughly equal to the complexity and scope of the Milky Way Galaxy.

>Like an Alien computational fabric

A 3 lb Lump of existence…

Question: REM dreams as a Valve or release of far too much input. >Studies, across generations, age groups, regions, war zones vs "peaceful" zones have shown no distinct differences in dream conduction. In itself interesting.

> Dilated eye study on attraction, where only difference in a female model for observation of attractiveness was, dilation of the pupils: a sign of sexual readiness. on brain receptors to marijuana or other drugs / dilation and sexual promiscuity

>Interesting discussion on the blanking of ones consciousness to allow the uber unconsciousness (uber, as in, much larger in our decisions and automaton reactions) to take over; a concert pianist, a sports athelete [the "muse" blog on creativity, what is that tapping into, if unconscious "training" leads to super-elites at a sport / activity "zoning" into an activity, then where does Creativity come from? Perhaps the War of Art has a lovey answer] – Wired Magazine article citation perhaps

Days later, some synchronous threads, conversation on Blink and Deliberate Practice, how too much information leads to poor decision making, or How Iraq Destroyed the US in 2001.

"Blink" about Millennium Challenge, which was the $500 million war game the Pentagon conducted in 2001. It was an elaborate dress rehearsal for the Iraq War, with one side "playing" the U.S. and another team playing Iraq — and Iraq won. The chapter is all about how that happened, and it focuses on a retired Marine Corps General named Paul Van Riper, who was playing Saddam Hussein. [Gladwell Interview Source]

>You are not One thing, you are multitudes – several sub populations of minds for behavior. This sounds like one of those "duh" statements, which, you only think "duh" after it is stated. – but can neuroscience explain "bad" behavior / competing networking’s EG: short-term gratification vs. long term Rational goals.

me: I picture globes of networked neuron lightening fire storms, bumping, smashing, contracting and expanding around one another, subjugating or dying, blogging, taking over and setting up a New path of behavior from the competing take over. Setting threads and collapsing potential infinite possibilities of ones life.

>Ulysses Contract – or binding behaviors that people do to change habits, neurosis, etc. Wiki / study link. Those things you "promise" yourself; drug dealers, forming new Ulysses Contracts, EG: avoiding certain people, (his off hand comment was very insightful next) or not carrying $20 or more in cash, not walking down a street alley.

>Social Policy – you are not as in charge as you might think – still more references to Machine / Mechanical functions – gears, no choice, environment, things of that nature.

[cite study on 0-2 development importance. Jared Polis, of TEDxBoulder 2010, US Representative on the importance and a fascinating model of "financing" 0-2 age education for profit / social capital http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kXEbQXzvxE http://www.icosamag.com/_webapp_1151071/Closing_the_Education_Gap "“Hemispheric human capital development is the critical competitive advantage of the future."

>Genes, no choice in that matter, environment, this Wires your brain and "constrains" (fascinating) into who who are. Constrain, is the big key I take away from that, like a net holding in ones subconscious and the potentials of choice in situations.

Picture a slow wire mesh forming about your actions growing "flock" of flying actions..slowly enmeshing those actions tighter in a certain environment and spacial possibility of your choices.

Very cool - study, brain tumor, turned a guy into a pedophile, then, retracted pedophilia tendencies once removed. Came back to a degree, found a "slight" bit left, pedophiliac tendencies gone.- but, the book contains several "lot's of examples" of brain wiring changing people.

>Myth of Equality - all brains being created equal.

Remember the Jar or Vat philosophy / argument: Wikipedia

However, Eagleman makes a solid point that we are more then just a vacuumed space of a Brain. We are a nervous system, limbs, senses, immune system, etc. If one isolated just a brain in a jar, the experiences of that brain would be significantly different (nice point, something to think more [blog] on..what would a Jar’d brain do, in control of a facility, for example..funny story potential).

>Brains are more like fingerprints..~30% of incarcerated prisoners are mentally ill – demand / brain side circuitry of addiction.

Glad he touched on recidivism in prisoners

His vision / some implementation on "custom penal brain treatment." Interesting, thoughtful notion.

>10 year long study on sex offenders [why are people obsessed with fixing sex offenders? probably because they have a "better" recidivism rate vs drug abusers, who tend to die or lapse 90% vs 45-65%, though, I contend the damage of a drug addict killing themselves is far less imprinting then fucking up a generation via a lapsed sex offender]

>brought up a risque [google] NY Times article [he?] did – of course. [can't find, found different one on war / short vs long term and American syndromes]

Q & A

The first question, of course comes from a semi indignant older gal on religion – neuroscience as a product of our unconsciousness = scary as hell to religious folks – new witch hunt in the future if we devolve I imagine

>Universe, us, as neurons, our inner complexity "luminous"

A gorgeous word.

>Sympathetic system, such as monks being able to control body temperature, blood flow to a certain limb via "thought..are only scratching the surface" (fascinating)

Good question on psychopathy (he pronounces psychAWpUthy) – what do you do?  Their is NO good rehab system for psychopaths.

That, is pretty thought provoking.

>However, we can never pre-punish, their is "never cause for pre-punishment" – "life is too complicated and crime is too circumstantial"

(love that quote)

>Free Will – he cannot conclude yes, or no (many of his colleagues conclude No), but, if you do have free will, it is "but a bit player in the system" nice.

>Imagine sexual preference. Take your preference, male or female, and try to "free will" your way into changing that. Just like you can’t use "my freewill" to "be like him" a psychopathic murderer, who, gets "excited" over the actual pain / death of another human. "I can’t free will into his brain." Fantastic point, on you can never (be in another brain). This alludes to the hard-wiring of gene vs nature, but, "that argument is over, it is always both."

>Back to dream studies – different ages, cultures, the 1960′s, war zones, all the "same stuff."

>Children have no concept of time (cool, re-research that from child dev. research), they must learn it. The frontal lobe develops the slowest of the rest of the brain, "slowest, but higher consciousness"

>Sanity question: brilliant retort "oh, sanity is a legal, not a scientific term, just to be clear" love that. He has excellent QA command, probably from years as a "guest expert," talk shows, etc. Even stuffing what I feared a dangerous path into a 20 minute stupid discussion on religion and free-will in a round about "noone will convince or unconvince" style argument

[twitter the sanity]

[twitter him neuropath]

>Epigenetics – new study, [research, sounds interesting] – you can’t change your genome, but, you can change how they are expressed (very cool)

I asked the question of Archetypes, I meant Jungian / culture, but, thats a silly question mostly related to evolution / genetics (or is it, rephrase it to mean something in neuroscience)- he took it as Personality types.

What was interesting: the DSM IV STILL judges personalities as "one or the other" never a sliding scale, it is only RECENTLY that sliding scales are being studied / introduced into V.

>Our brains are the densist (most dense) part of us, but, we have physical endocrine, hormones, etc. Brain in a jar would experience a much different experience [condense to above blurb]

Begs the question of our potential in removing physical stimuli, ala, Isolation Tanks. We could get deep [link Conspiracy theory crap] on the whole Aliens are our future / time traveling curious bug studiers. Larger brains (at odds with the "dense" question of Albert Einstein), physically week bodies. I doubt sexual attraction / the Sexual Evolution (read the book, The Red Queen..think only, of a peackock, and how, that giant tail really doesn’t enable better "survival of the fitest" rather, survival of the "sexiest")

>Why are we human? Good question.. Cortex seems to to be "the magic stuff" for separating / uniqueness of the brain. We have ~4 sheets of paper (as a rough example) of cortex, vs a close cousin, apes, who have 1 sheet of cortex. And the frontal lobe – socialization, higher functioning.

>Good ending question, but a better question before: Eagleman cites the conscious brain as the CEO of the brain, who, would fuck up an organization getting into the details of the "mailroom" but, is that not at odds with the rest of the assertation that really, we have little "control" over our own actual subconsciousness which dictates much of our behavior? I think this was the only question (and it IS a shitty analogy) that he failed to address. Perhaps the book is more indepth. Rather, he probably was trying to embody an easily accessible object, persona, hot-item (news now days, pay and all that).

Ramble ramble..

Is Fiction more accessible then Scientific studies distilled for layman consumption? Neuropath. I believe so..Neuropath has murdered the minds of all my friends who have burned through it, in a good way, for a week or so. Good, to make you think. Thinking, is good. Bleeding your soul dead with a constant stream of music, television, a shit job and social drama leads to numbness of being with oneself. Meaning, people are "scared" of silence, thought, inner reflection, and the like.

NewScientist video: a basic run down of altruism, violence, etc. tends to rise (or anti-societal behavior) with more believe in a lack of free will, but, when getting back to the "real" world (out of a lab), we still act within most social norms accordingly.

Existentialism tends to scare the shit out of people, that, their is no meaning, ergo, Archetypes of God, Soul, and other uber consciousness’ start floating along our genetics, so we don’t kill ourselves. Much existentialism leads to depression, because most paths to existentialism comes via the way of societal withdraw. This, is depression, and in itself, no meaning. People, connectivity, relationships, friends, family and lovers, is meaning, even without a God or afterlife. I am coming to realize that the world, for me, has no meaning, and that is ok. Why no meaning? I, will be dead. Perhaps, I will have children. Perhaps, they will. I will still be dead. This, has no meaning. Excepting perhaps the propagation of human life, a selfish genetic component of my biology fucking with my free will to bang every two legged female in sight.

But, the more educated [cite] folks become, the less children they have. So, is this evolution to the point of extincting the species? Or a determined path to Singularism with computers, unnecessary of biological reproduction (now thats a goddamn leap of thought process.) However, the God archetype could have another use only in the sense of giving meaning to the Others in your life. Why have children, outside of physical pleasure, if Their lives, are also meaningless. If Everything is meaningless, why do anything? Well, because you are stuck, on this rock (forever [cite why were not leaving the solar system]) and, its either kill yourself and stop wasting peoples time, or make those small steps to happiness. Because, when you are happy, it is, such, beauty.

Personally, it doesn’t matter to me whether we are in a deterministic world, God world, atheist, selfish-gened out dystop/utopia. It is only very, very interesting, disgusting, beautiful and as such, is, life.

Then, I took off to a Trojan Party from some Burning folks.

Black Swan

Black swan; that which I would have failed a DUI test driving home, in a pseudo shock, awe and “high / drunkness” that shook about 10 minutes after the movie…if you follow, and appreciate the brilliance, you may need 10 minutes to recover.

A tale of the new supplanting the old in ultra-pressure Ballet, the story is not about the world of Ballet, but of Nina (Natalie Portman), who is vying to supplant the older Beth (Winona Ryder), who needs, and rivals and plays a twisted mental relationship into existence with Lily (Mila Kunis), another supplantor, for which may derail and ultimately destroy Nina.

SPOILERS BELOW (full blog is a Spoiler)

This movie is a Play about her, Nina which is supported with the music during scenes of “normalcy” or reality of which you would find IN that ballet, though she is far removed from the stage. This causes many people in the audience who are either not following, feeling like this is a “supernatural thriller” or are just uncomfortable with the emotional servitude of Natalie Portman, to chuckle during those scenes. It does Sound somewhat ridiculous, if you take the bombastic music at face value in what could be described as “intense” scenery (ghosts below). But, the brilliance of this encapsulates the movie in the proper atmosphere of a Play, being drawn to a conclusion, similar to the Swan Princess.

TL;DR at the end.

Full Breakdown

She frequently see’s Beth (Winona Ryder), that who she wants to replace, who has been the star, the “perfection” of Ballet (to Nina) even at the beginning of the movie:

When she is in the scaffold laden alley way and shuts her Mom’s (Barbara Hershey) call off (feeling like she blew the role, and not wanting to dive back into that soft bubble of safety and “little girl with protectionist mommy), a tall and dark shadow turns off her phone at the exact same moment.

As they pass, it is Lily, Nina’s “doppelganger” appears, the  flash, and its Beth she “see’s” in the darkness. “Dark Nina” will be the future reference.

(Beth, frequent visage)

Frequent usage of this is done throughout the movie, a dark shadow of a women, who could be Lily, Beth (both “Black Swans), who end up being, either someone different, or similar..though, they tend to always be, the Black Swan’s. Ultimately, it represents Nina’s “dark side” or the anti-White Swan, the Black Swan.

Nina also “see’s” Lily on a separate train, for some reason incredibly Drawn to her, while never seeing her face, just a flash perhaps, but the essence of the Black Swan, something so counter-Nina to her psychology and profile, that she maintains even after “Lily” gets off, she tries to follow her with her eyes.

Lily did in fact arrive late, slamming a door breaking the concentration (with the same white-ear buds that were seen on the train), “ruining” what Nina thought was her final chance..the chance to Not, be her Mother (though that is NOT the crux nor running theme of the movie, only a subtle plot which is still important, buttressing the main schema of “The Play”).

When she does get the part, she knows and is frequently told by the producer, Thom (“Thomas Lero” Vincent Cassel) that she Needs to tap into the Black Swan, the Seductive One, the Dark One, the Onne without inhibition, the one which does not “fake,” but flows, even if the technique, is not “perfect.”

White

Nina is the perfect “White Swan” sexually and emotionally vulnerable, technically “perfect” as much as can be, but oh so overshadowed by Lily, the epitome of a Black Swan, whom, is shown early on in the movie, her actual technique is at least marginally more “sloppy” due to her “passion” or “swan’ness” (what a lame word).

With Nina already near breaking points, uncomfortable with the sexuality and passion of Thom, during the galla / Ball / fundraising event, the moment of unveiling the New Swan and Retiring the Old, Lily makes an off-giggle (into dead silence), planting seeds of doubt and future paranoia of Nina.

Black

Beth, the retired, self-destructive Swan, is always what Nina has ascribed to be..being teased and jabbed at by the other girls by defending her beauty and dancing prowess, though others (and Thom) would deem her much too old, played out, etc.

Stealing Beth’s items (lipstick, others and a nail-filer, highly important in her hand mangling and back-mutilation) hammers home the point of emulation and desire to Be Beth, which reaches also, into self-destructiveness.

Becoming

Running out on a tantrum, breaking the pattern of “yes mom” and being the “little Princess” and going out for a drink with Lily…Lily previously had spoken with Nina, when crying at the theater, offering a cigarette, apparently telling Thom to “take it easy” on her, which is misinterpreted on all sides.

Lily, during that scene, of coming upon Nina crying, she was just another “dark” figure of a women, until, she steps into the light..brilliantly done, and one of the first truly “creepy” usages of an unknown, where we, and Nina, the audience, cannot tell who, what, and if it is real.

Sexuality

Thom, with the biting, the smashing of lips, testing the passion (if their exists Any within Nina, though, could have just taken that as an opportunity of being the creep boss sleeping with his Ballerina’s), is the first indication of a darkness, or Blackness to which the Swan could progress. Her perfection as the White Swan, and technique, leads Thom to choose her, as the Swan..forcing her hand with the kiss, actually stopping Nina, forcing her to “defend” herself actually coming to his office “dolled up” starts the trend of Becoming.

Thom, after informing Nina that Beth had thrown herself intentionally (his thoughts) in front of a car after the Ball confrontation, indicates massive self destruction, coupled with, when Nina Stole Beth’s items, Beth had trashed her room violently. He also gives Beth an “assignment” of sexuality, touching, exploring herself, “live a little.” This includes Thom forcefully kissing “open your mouth, OPEN your mouth” grabbing her breasts and crotch, shoving her away “that was me seducing you, it has to be the other way” (paraphrased).

With this experimentation, her closeted life begins to die, her first experimentation is nearly (or was) “caught” by her sleeping mother at her side in a chair..this prompts Nina later when taking out the trash, to grab a wooden club, which, seeing her mother crying over her paintings (more below on paintings), the trick of Darren makes the audience inhale as if she is going to kill her mother..like a droll Hollywood movie would do…running to her room, she experiments with blocking her door.

The next, in a bath tub, Nina once again experiments with herself, diving under water to cover her sounds of pleasure, or just experience this on a different level, when she opens her eyes, an ephigy of a dying swan, young, Snaps her out of the tub in terror a floating “ghost” of her dying fractured life. The fracturing of her perfect world, and the pressure of not / being her mother, comes to mount.

She can’t tell what is real, she wants to be Beth, which to her, is Perfection, and starts slowly cracking under her own façade of a bubble life..

Booze, E and Sex

When she begins experimenting, she starts seeing her lost child die more frequently, older even, a teenage “dying” Swan, or rather, her protracted childhood Dead or fading behind her, scratching out of the pressure.

Random old man kissing / groping himself on a train shows the sexual innocence and “vulnerability” of Nina, as she still is unable to tell, people, No. This prompts her to tell, her mother NO for seeing her back…to see if she is still self-abusing *DING* door bell…Lily at the door.

The experimentation culminates with Lily, apologizing for speaking with Thom about the “pressure” of Nina (which is interpreted by Nina as Lily trying to supplant her, though is only a seed at this point..for now, she is a Black Swan, who can “help” her transform and mimic to Become), invites her for dinner, then a drink.

With her psychotic mom nipping at her, and Lily’s realistic reaction to such a thing “holy, what the..really?” Nina runs out, cracking her former life in two choosing this path of the Black Swan.

Drinking, men, flirting, ecstasy, from drinks, to drinks with Tom and Jerry, to a club of sounds, house music and making out in the bathroom with man..she “wakes” up, stumbles outside, and finds Lily, getting into a cab..Lily seduces Nina to a degree with crawling her fingers, up, onto her thigh, down, into her groin (theme)..Nina pushes her hand away..stumbling in drunk to her house, giggling, defying her mother even more “oh yes, Tom and Jerry I FUCKED both of them! Drinking!!!!” running with Lily to her bedroom, blocking her door to her mother with the club “THIS IS HOUSE PRIVACY.”

Locking eyes with the devlish, Black Swan, which she needs and wants to be, Needs to be, she dives into Lily, kissing, grabbing, the tearing of cloths, but Lily is the dominant one, the dark one, taking control, licking her thighs, making Nina moan. Lily looks up, and Shifts into Beth, in another terror moment of Becoming..calmed by Lily, she begins again, and instead of seeing Beth, Nina see’s the back tattoo’s of Lily, in wings, undulating, as if transforming, which swarms INTO Nina, into her body, a transference of Swan.

Lily As Enemy

Sleeping through her normal early schedule, Nina is late, frantically looking around, the “club” is not sealed on the door, her mother would not wake her, allowing her the consequences (or scared that her daughter has truly, surpassed her in her “career” she feels so strongly in despair of loss), Lily is not there.

Lily is in fact, stepping in, for rehearsal, for Nina as the Swan..Nina realizes upon confrontation, she left the club alone, after “waking” up from the club sounds and noises and making out with a man in the bathroom, and Never went home with Lily, Never slept with her “you had a wet dream about me? WAS I ANY GOOD! *laughing*

When she had arrived home with Lily, her mother never made a motion nor mention towards her, as she would have in her controlling ways. Nina’s psychosis plays the role of wishing to Be and be With the Black Swan..

Death of Child, Mother and Painting

Nina in rage destroys her “childhood” idealic strange bubbled room and life, where her mother changes her out of her cloths, tucks her to bed, monitors her in the bathroom, sets up a music box, CRASHED to the ground, all of her dolls, silly pink blankets and “Princess” items are shoved disgusted into the trash shoot.

Very close to the beginning of the movie, the creepy, strange pictures of sorrow and loss that her mother paints, Crying (always, she cries when painting), actually shifts its eyes to Nina as she passes when seeking her mother..the first indication of the movie that confuses some audiences (Supernatural? Ghosts? No, its her sanity).

Her mother, in a conversation, tells Nina her perspective, that she gave up her career to Have Nina, to give birth..”You didn’t have a career” retors Nina, spiking the intensity of Crazy mom, “you were 28” Nina further defying her mother and forcing her mother to confront the possibility that she had NO career, and Nina, her daughter, The Swan, supplanted HER.

The mother, with her crazy pressure, paints horrible depressing, screaming visages, subconscious representations of the mom’s own bitterness at her having to “fold” her career.

Dying Swan

Nina finds that Lily is in fact the Alternate, more chemistry, seeing eyes with Thom, with her partner “Gentlemen,” begins to crack her…begs Thom to not let it “be her.” Thom, implants the (correct) idea, that “this is your moment [Nina]” and, to “get some sleep” for the big day, he is supportive.

Rehearsing too late with the pianist, sweating, trying to get the moves, self-abusing herself through over-exertion, the pianist leaves and the lights go down…flashes and flickers of the Dark antagonist sweeps into vision, she see’s, hearing noises, Lily, the Black Swan fucking Thom, further cementing her own role as the Swan Queen, Thom turns to Nina, see’s her, and morphs into her initial dream of the Dark antagonist (or, “evil sorcerer for the “Swan Princess”) while having sex with Lily..

Supplant

Nina, supplanted Beth, the original Swan, and her mother, the past-futile and furtive Swan, and is now being hunted, by Lily, for her Moment as the Swan..

She became, Nina the Swan Queen, that which she wanted, taking over Beth’s glory, then saw herself as guilty, s Lily, trying to steal her own Glory, Nina had in fact taken Beth. Trying to “make amends” to Beth by returning her things, feeling like she was a fraud, because to her, Lily was a fraud.

In a hospital, Beth is a wreck of insanity…Nina see’s Beth stab herself with the nail file..fleeing, smashing the elevator keys to escape the Beth who tells her “Perfect? I am…NOTHING…NOTHING” Stabbing her face, repeatedly, DROPS the file, as if she herself, had stabbed her…I believe she did, in fact stab Beth, as she did not stab herself.

Home and Death

Walking, darkness, into the kitchen, “mom?” flicking a light, seeing nothing, wipes the blood from her arm…”such a pretty girl” creeps into her ears, a haunting teen/child like voice. Running, Nina turns back on the light, STANDING in the kitchen is another Dead Swan, older, a Child Swan, always within white, a terrible ethereal corpse…Nina runs, passing the picture room of her mother, the pictures all begin animating, chatting screaming the frustration, pain “NEVER GOOD ENOUGH” the insanity of her mother, tearing the pictures, shoving past her mother and blocks the door from screams of “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”…breaking or hurting her mothers hand and she tries to force herself in, once, TWICE, crushing her hand with the door..

Nina stairs in the mirror, her back undulates, sprouts of blackness protrude, she pulls a black feather from her back, Transfroming and becoming, her legs bend, snapping backwards into a birds, and she smashes her head into a corner post, falling..fading away..

Waking

She wakes to her mother..her mother called the studio, cancelling Nina’s performance for “not feeling well” …Nina has mittens on her hands, as she was scratching her back all night..her mother refuses her to leave “until she gets better,” this is NINA’S MOMENT! She crushes her moms hurt hand in her own, finding the hidden door knog and escapes forever from her past life and dungeon of Princessness.

White Swan

She runs to the theater…Thom is concerned, knowing something is not quite “right” about her, her demeanor, etc.), Lily is irate (this is probably not real, though I think it is, as Lily would have been “psyching” herself up for the main performance, not to be relegated last minute)..Nina, once more, becoming more and more Dark, tells Thom, intensely, that she will do it.

Her toes stick, they hurt as she puts on her shoes…her toes, they are welded on the left side…becoming…she moves on.

With the White Swan, she is fantastic. During a break, see’s Lily groping The Gentlemen, her Partner for the act (real or imagined? Probably imagined..mid-performance of a high-stress environment? All the set techs? Who knows)..she cries, with the other Little Swans trying to console her..

Second session as White Swan, the crowd, Lily and the Gentlemen, her being seduced by the Gentlemen, it mesmerizes her, all the other Swans (the Little Swans from IMDB) jealous little bitches (note the change from above), trying to get HER moment, stare at her with vitriol, she miscalculates her weight, and the Gentlemen DROPS her to her knee..”what the Fuck?”

Nina cry’s foul, telling Thom “HE DROPPED ME!”

On this dropping, Lily is in her room..changing, to be the Black Swan “Thom is concerned you cannot go on to the next set…” a fight, “MY MOMENT” they struggle, Nina throws Lily into glass, taking her to the ground, Lily fights back, choking Nina, winning, winning…Nina changes, Eyes glow Red, she gets monstrous, her neck extends, shocking Lily enough for Nina to grab a shard of glass and stab Lily, into the guts, the lower ribs, breaking off a sliver of glass…Lily’s light fades from her eyes..and dies.

Nina drags Lilly into a shower / off-closet room…and, composing herself, dresses for the Black Swan.

She has Become.

Black Swan

The performance is amazing..perfection, her eyes glow red, the seductress, feathers begin sprouting from her arms, enhancing the lustressness of the dance, pushing and pulling the audience (of the theater) in and out of reality, dashing off stage to smash Thom is the lips, Becoming the Seducer, she finishes the performance with full regalia of wings to a roar of ovation..off stage, she is fuming with sexuality, puffing, moaning to herself with the prowess of a Pride Lioness, stalking back to her room, to finish the performance, as the White Swawn…

The door knocks..Lily congratulates her…world, comes crashing down, the psyche cracks, she never killed Lily, Lily: “Despite our past troubles, you did really, really well” (paraphrased)…the closet is empty, she had stabbed herself, removes the shard of glass..Thom had told her earlier “the only person standing in your way, is you”..composes herself, and becomes the White Swan. In attaining her own “perfection” in relation to Beth, she had finally cultivated her own level of self destruction to become the Black Swan, the needed variables for a perfect, Swan Queen.

Swan Queen: Final Act

Once again, vulnerable, feeling the pressure, the perfect White Swan, she is brilliant, dashing back and forth between the Sorcerer and Gentlemen, she runs to the top of the stairs, finalizing the Arc with a sorrowful gaze to the Sorcerer…to the Gentlemen..to the crowd, but mostly to the Queen Swan, her Mother, holding her eyes, holding them, her mother knows, knows something is wrong..and dives, dives to her spot..

Dead.

“Perfect” the dying words, with Thom, asking, screaming “What did you do…What did you DO!”

Fade out to brilliant white… I don’t understand if the Star constellation were meant as symbolic, superimposed (subtly) over the bright white screen, right before “Directed by Darren Aronofski.” I am sure they were meant to be (or maybe it was the low-budget theater )

Perfection.

TL;DR

The movie is a play about Nina, her own attainment and death, her own POV, which we never, NEVER see, from the other characters. This is Nina, AS the Swan Queen, dying. Her psyche immediately starts cracking with even the Potential of becoming the coveted Swan Queen, seeing pictures move, and eventually, herself or “old self” as ghostly images of white-gowned young girls during times of moving further and further away from her old life.

Freud (Wikipedia): fits within the context of Nina..mostly sexually repressed, we actually never know if she in fact is a virgin, had boyfriends, and has many defenses against the opposing sex and sexual interaction. She has problems with boundaries, assertiveness, and is coddled immensely by her overprotective (and probably over-pressuring) mother to succeed and be cloistered.

The genital stage in psychology is the term used by Sigmund Freud to describe the final stage of human psychosexual development. This stage begins at the start of puberty when sexual urges are once again awakened. Through the lessons learned during the previous stages, adolescents direct their sexual urges onto opposite sex peers, with the primary focus of pleasure of the genitals.^[1] The less energy the child has left invested in unresolved psychosexual developments, the greater his capacity will be to develop normal relationships with the opposite sex. If, however, he remains fixated, particularly on the phallic stage, his development will be troubled as he struggles with further repression and defenses.^[2]

Bolded, only due to the majority of the sexuality in the movie, in relation to Nina (discounting her “seeing” Thom and Lily), relates to the genitals. In fact, recall Lily was “seen” by Nina during the final performance groping the genitals of The Gentlemen.

1) Thom grabs her to prove a point of “you need to seduce me, as the Black Swan”

2) Nina pleases herself twice (with repercussions of her mother potentially catching her, and seeing dying Swans / her old self

3) Lily gropes her in the cab (false memory / reality)

4) Lily gropes the Gentlemen

Other themes / Tid Bits

I am not surprised it has not been a Box Office Smash, despite raving reviews of “intelligent” critics who enjoy movies, as this is a SLOW BURN movie. I noted that during ~30 minutes into the movie, I thought, most of this audience is now shifting and thinking..what is so amazing about this movie? It is slow exposition, very subtle fracturing of Nina’s mind, and it is HER POV we are always in, always following, Never into the mind or “eyes” of Lily, or Thom, hence Nina’s play, and her movie are drawn out before us, her final performance and ultimate death.

8.9/10 on IMDB 12/21/10

Rotten Tomato’s (which I normally can gauge my own response) 88%.

Far off from its brilliance, I’d say it’s hard to argue against a 9/9.5/10, unless you just can’t enjoy the brilliance of its “slow burn buildup”

Not surprised Vincent Cassel was also a character (Marcus, the main boyfriend) within Irreversible, the same, only movie I can think of that at the end, leaves you in such a state of Shock and/or Awe (to many, laughing off the uncomfortableness).

Other crap I didn’t include above or need to do later upon further viewing / gaining a DVD when available.

“Pretty girl” ghost at the end, is her? In white, again the Child that she has been Dying under the pressure of coming out of her very, very protective bubble of sexuality and pressure cooker of Ballet.

At some point, I don’t remember the exact When, Nina runs off stage as the White Queen crying, consoled by the Little Swans.

Also, Nina visited Beth earlier in the hospital, saw her legs were all sorts of fucked up..symbolic.

Blabbering: The only person in your way, is you. Stab / kill murder Lily. When she fights with Lily, Lily seems to be winning with the choke, until Nina “turns” slightly into the Black Swan elongating her neck, stopping Lily with shock to allow Nina to kill Lily..her last protective layer of psyche’s protection, gone, self destruction and “perfection,” as was her dying words (or was it “perfect”?) supports.

Different variations of the “ghost” or Dying swan (IMDB is Little Swan [EDIT: this is incorrect, though she SEE’s dying swans, as I call them, these are in fact, via IMDB the “characters” in the Actual “play” that IS the movie for Nina, Nina’s Swan Song, Nina as the Swan Queen, failure here]) is different ages of her character dying, or her mind fracturing being so enclosed within being that little Princess, to her Mom, and Eventually Thom. Edit 2: the “ghosts” are fractures of the psyche, either her dying self, or, the “Black Swan” doppleganger as nicely pointed out in the comment below. On further watch, I believe this to be correct.

Will update this as second third viewing / grammar / etc comes into play

Edit: Neglected the Mirror theme (maybe its so common in movies, I did not note its importance, however, the scene placement and WHAT she saw, definitely, Is).

Emphasis on modern times, a women, different scenario’s and levels of addiction. Abusive boyfriend, or similar, perhaps.

Intro

Heroin is your master, lover, fucker, beater, womanizer, knight in shining armor, your escape from reality, your ticket out of circumstance, your environment and your God. There is nothing BUT heroin. You will sell your new born baby for a baggie of black tar. The market is cheap of heroin since the war on Afghanistan (fact, another day..), heroin is the latest and greatest high even among even white collar school children (as is meth, cheapness and a lack of education), bored of Weed, told Weed is the same harmful level of Meth and heroin.

Heroin is a Depressant. It makes the person un-workable. You cannot move, speak..but, you feel, the greatest Euphoria in the world. The greatest calm, the most relaxed muscles, the best possible Peace, where Everything is in order. Nothing is wrong, “I have no fears of money, women and/or men, sex, marriage the Future, all is present Now, all is here Now, all is within the Dragon.”

I chase the Dragon because it is powerful. It holds me, chills me and numbs me, peace, is numbness is stagnation. Heroin is stagnation. The Dragon is associated with heroin and Opium (more opium, which is smoking Heroin (without being “cut” to Black Tar) as it is cleaner) as it is a Very, very old human archetypal model of power and godliness. The Dragon that is.

We feel Nothing when chasing the Dragon, and the Dragon can Never be caught. If you catch the Dragon, you die. If you COULD catch the Dragon, you would be enlightened. This is an impossibility and perhaps those who OD on heroin do feel that, dancing that “cuff” of death / enlightenment.

Form:

Heroin addicts form their lives around heroin. They need $20-$60 / day. This is not much money unless you are not working. Heroin addicts cannot keep down jobs (were talking high-percentage generalizations, those who can are on a minute percentage scale and are probably only “starting” out with heroin, or “just” smoke opium, don’t inject, etc.) Tolerance builds, so this could rise to a few hundred of heroin / day.

Meth is an even more destructive drug as it encourages action, movement and that same feeling of euphoria, but with that, the best realization of your dreams. Heroin, makes you love a mattress, piss soaked shit and ejaculate laden room of crack addicts sharing a $20 dream to nowhere. Meth, is the same, but, most people are “productive” in art, craftsmanship (or just taking things apart and putting 3x things back together into that singular piece they took apart). Productive only in furtiveness and movement, the movement of the body and mind.

Meth and heroin share the same Dragon technique (chasing the ultimate high). Though. Meth is called the Demon, due to its even more destructive nature. They both, have a singular effect of ONE dose is normally, in nearly EVERY single population, addicted for life. This does not mean you cannot STOP meth / heroin, but it will always have an effect on your brain chemistry and desires for the drug will be with the user to varying levels, for a lifetime.

People in fact have visceral, physical reactions to needles after much usage. Orgasms, at the sight or tough of a hypodermics (even in a doctor checkup) become the norm in Junkie Status.

From prison: “I still feel the pull whenever I see a needle, a pill or powder or anything…your receptors are FRIED, your dopa / other chemicals are taken over completely by these hard dangerous drugs, and it will NEVER go away. Getting a checkup for tuberculosis, a cellmate told me he came (orgasmed) without his own conscious thought, a COMPLETE and utter Physical reaction. How strong is your Animal mind over your “Ego” mind after heroin? It is all purely physical. Hence so many women on these hard drugs are sexually promiscuous, if the guys even care. “I have no money, can I suck your dick.” This is reality, this is the hard drugs, this is the poison floating in your system.

A graphic depiction of brain receptors would be interesting.

Starting slow:

Some can start slow..first, smoking. Doing heroin with coke as a upper/downer type thing is also done, but I have not enough knowledge on such things over here.

Smoking typically done with tinfoil, whether on a sheet, or “bundling” the heroin in a pocket of foil and smoked in a pipe. You inhale the smoke, and viola.

Graduating

Most people can smoke heroin and “keep it together” to a degree..when you mainline or Shoot up, you ARE addicted, done, dead, in the grave, the Dragon has won, what do you do when you find the Dragon you have been chasing? Kill it? Choke it out? The Dragon is greater, it has claimed a million lives (ref back to the addiction above, of course you Can quit, but the odds are against you).

Sometimes, you feel the most euphoric and beautiful connection to the world around you, the person, but not really with heroin. You are centered, chasing, always chasing, drooling into a disgusting couch; you fly for a number of hours. For only a few moments, your euphoria lasts, the world is at peace your life is Gone, you have no Life, no Money, no Family, no Friends, only the Beautiful self, You and not even You, you is a fallacy of the illusion of life. Next, a lethargy of peace..lack of movement, lack of caring, decrease of pain receptors.

In your head, you may be doing things, flying, floating (not visual hallucinations, normally body hallucinations), nodding to beautiful music (which is actually playing, NON hallucinatory), but you are just a lump of flesh, a pumping vessel of blood and molecules sustaining itself just barely while the poison courses through your body. Repeated use of the needle in a singular spot can lead to flesh rot.

From the movie Requiem for a Dream (dumb song, good snapshots of heroin use / spiraling out of control):

  comments on the types of heroin below is good:

they are snorting white herion which is diamorphine hydrochloride, that herion is water soluble, so it is commonly snorted like cocaine. diamorphine base which is brown herion, is not 100% water soluble so it is hardly snorted, its more manufactured to smoke, afgan brown in its most soild form is brown, its what we get in the U.K. cony island N.Y.C which is where the film is set, get white heroin the lucky bastards haha

Injecting poison is never a good idea, and most heroin’s problems are not that it is inherently poisonous (morphine is a derivative I believe and opium is pure), but what is is “cut” with, to “step” on a drug to make it less potent / pure and more Profitable.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cutting_agent

I have no experience ala what is in / stepping etc.

Addicts (sometimes vehemently) argue that it is due to the cutting agent that OD’s typically (typically) occur.

Experience from an addict:

The stages will vary for different users. Mine went like so: first was nausea, but that only lasted about 5 or 10 seconds until I got the "rush" or "hit". The "rush" is a period of about 10 to 20 minutes (varying with the strength of the user’s addiction) when you feel what people often class as "high" – a sensation of well-being or happiness accompanied by your body going a bit jelly-like. Y
our skin heats up and you feel warm inside out and you fidget a lot because you get "butterflies" and can’t keep still. After these initial effects, the mouth starts to dry and usually the lips chap a little – the jelly feeling turns into heaviness, especially in your head, hands, and legs (or just from the waist down). Sometimes your arm starts burning (if you’ve injected), or your skin itches. For first-time and irregular users the nausea can come back, making you vomit and get quite dizzy, occasionally fainting. This second stage lasts about half an hour to 2 hours.

These next symptoms can overlap with the second stage – the existence of a clear third stage is debatable. Users begin to alternate between severe drowsiness and alertness, continue to be shifty and restless, and then your breathing starts to slow. It’s sometimes really difficult to breathe. When that happens your heartbeat is also quite soft, maybe irregular, and if it is a case of an overdose then it’s possible to slip into a coma at this point and medical attention is necessary.
Common visible signs of being "high" are the constricted pupils, dark circles around the eyes, pale skin and chapped lips. The rest is down to how the user used.

Life / Associations

Addicts tend to only associate with other addicts, or let’s say, Junkie’s associate with other Junkie’s (we are still talking about Heroin, not other drugs). Their common denominator is the heroin itself. Getting clean, one has to cut these people off, and, they normally aren’t missed. Heroin is your family now.

Family ties may / may not exist, excepting the perhaps frequent cries for help or moreso, the cries for money (just another $20!) Stealing things, anything, for the daily dose.

Lots of thievery / bartering. Men will steal Stuff, and sell / exchange for heroin. Women are not as adept (physical / cunning whatever) at stealing and fall to the Easiest (redacted somewhat below).

Heroin = What is the EASIEST route to getting a hit (so, not that women suck at stealing actually, more, once again, what is the easiest route?)

Junkie’s as “people” become hallow, a shell, selling themselves physically, or even a child, for just a Hit, it is all encompassing and the utmost of addiction, your brain is taken overtaken like a cancer, Heroin is one of the most difficult and deadly addictions (along with meth).

Most heroin addicts live on the streets, with “friends” at parks, churches sometimes, parking lots, parks, then spend the next day “hustling” (women, sex, men, stealing (The Wire HBO show examples below)), and live in abandoned houses, hence the difficulty in finding them.

Finding

Family may try, but who are they? The Dragon is larger, bigger, stronger, faster, Powerful, family means nothing, another Shadow memory of what life once was, your life Now is the heroin, chasing.

Mostly, you find bad heroin addicts when they are dead or OD (end up in a hospital / center).

Normally if you OD, people won’t call the cops, since they will get in trouble (or they just don’t care, too numb, like, a fly landing in a beer, will have the same resonance to them), they leave them to Die as their shell of a person, finally meeting the Dragon.

To actually find a junkie, you need to be In that circle of junkie’s, or have a mean’s in.

Junkie’s will find you (if you are a person of the past) for money, etc.

Hanging out in specific hot-spot area’s also a potential.

In LA / Hollywood, N – Hollywood is decadent, weirdo’s (can find video’s) of people hustling – millions (over time) of children / runaway teens CHASING THE DRAGON OF A DREAM IN HOLLYWOOD (kinda funny to think about / write more) succumb to prostitution and drugs (male and female) after the dream becomes less and less viable. They die, unspoken for, unspoken for.

Control / Scenario’s:

Those with the heroin “hookup” (dealer or junkie) tend to gain control over the addict, but, it’s not loyalty, a separate source when the original source is “dry” for even a day, send them off to the other source..temporarily or permanently.

-Sex slaves, Russia, China, US etc. They are controlled by dosages. Injected once, twice, thrice, they are Gone. They will do ANYTHING (including never talking to authorities or complaining about being gang banged by 18 men in a night, bleeding from orifices damaged beyond belief shattered bodies, poisoned blood, just for that hit).

-“Abusive boyfriend or husband” you may never leave a person if they are your source(s) for heroin. So, abusive boyfriend or husband doesn’t really factor, they just become the Source. As one or more of the couple becomes junkified, the relationship of humanity between them becomes more entwined around the drug versus their past emotional / physical connection.

-The story of a middle class gal in college could be one of experimentation gone awry, like 2 months of a sequence of being in love with the guy, doing it for the man, and hence going there.

-Less compelling: kidnapping and injected for control, or just because the Kidnappers themselves enjoy the Heroin.

-Experimentation gone awry via acquaintance, whether friend, boy, husband, which translates into “for you, I do this [heroin] for our relationship”

EG’s of Video’s / Movies:

Women with junkie addict:

From a fantastic (realistic) show, The Wire (probably rated youtubes R in movie terms) with a main heroin addict character.

  (less Rated R)

  (Rated R)

The Local is a brilliant movie (not centered on addicting, but focused on a man hustling heroin for $30 / day, and becomes centered in “rescuing” an addict from a hardcore dealer.

The Local follows Noname, an enigmatic man running from a tortured past. He is trapped in a violent Brooklyn underworld as the lowly drug runner for a gang of crazed veterans. There, Noname is approached by a wealthy out-of-towner who offers him a large sum of money to "rescue" the man’s heroin-addicted daughter from his employer’s drug lair. Noname soon realizes that saving the girl is more than a payday. It will grant him a way out of his purgatory after a lifetime of wrongdoing, and open a path toward personal redemption.

Graveyard of Honor is a Miike (ultra crazy violent director of foreign flicks) with a brilliant representation of an “innocent” wife turned into an addict by her addict husband. I cannot find clips, but the notable Heroin scenes (could fast-forward in Netflix / rental):

1:12:00 good scene of heroin junkie going nuts post violence / sex spree / spiraling down, shooting his gone in all directions, slothing across the floor, in underwear, screaming / whining like an animal..

1:49:00 more weird heroin action – plays a flashlight over his girls body (whom is high) 1:50:00 – she goes through withdrawals later
, smashing herself / physically into walls, the car, etc.

Detoxing

Detoxing is another story. Shakes, shivers, demons, physical wracking pain, like being strung from a thousand needles, told to die, yet never being allowed, ligaments pinned, muscles aching, sweat, sweat, can’t eat, sleep, water, can’t think, Only the needle only the smoke, only the Dragon exists…but, locked up or without money, your chase is now a crushing vice of sorrow.

It isn’t that people coming off of heroin think Spiders are all over them (though they may say / could think that), it is that their Skin is uncomfortable, the Dragon found THEM found them, it is killing them, the detox is POWERFUL – your skin burns, crawls, crawls, you can try to itch, you puke, die inside, the only thing to chase it away, is another Chase of the Dragon / heroin – chase it away.

Treatment / Appearance / Physical

http://ajph.aphapublications.org/cgi/reprint/62/10/1397.pdf

more comprehensive and interesting on treatment / Numbers.

Junkie’s are known to get addicted to methadone, which can be even more (controversial) addicting and dangerous then heroin itself. Methadone is a “alt” treatment to try and bring heroin addicts down.

A different discussion would be the use of high-potent psychedelics as 1-shot cures for addiction (completely illegal in the US, with addicts traveling to South America for treatment).

Heroin addicts even on healing / detox (jail) are always sickly. Heroin becomes more important then nutrition or food, sometimes supplanted with other chemicals, pills, alcohol, you go insane…This means they neglect their bodies, so, not NECESSARILY the heroin that fucks up their body, its that their body is now only a vessel for the heroin itself.

Even those detoxed still dream about it, those memories fight the memories of lost love ones, lost dreams of a lives potential. They tend to have a hallowed look to them (soul husks), and, in rare moments of (those long-time kickers of the habit) can snap back into addiction mode at the sign of any trigger.

Hallow cheeks, light bones, or rather, pronounced bones..women are Not pretty after heroin, they look anorexic / skeletal, are shadows of what a healthy being should be.

“Shadows..chasing a Dragon, a shadow in the smoke or drug, a shadow in the mist, sucking the life out of your humanity.”

Sex becomes meaningless after a point of junkification.

That’s hard drugs.

Meth is an upper, much, much different, glassy eyed, scabs (your hands want to DO something) – movie, Salton Sea and the party scenes are pretty representative.

Centers

Different levels for treatment exist (I would see that PDF), but, if you are over 18, you can typically check yourself out at any time unless this is a “jail vs treatment” deal with the courts for possession or some other crime. Sanitized, interaction w/ other addicts (can be dangerous in itself, putting other addicts in contact with each other, sometimes they find better hookups )

Typically group, sometimes one on one therapy, etc.

Junkie’s will NOT respond to treatment unless they THEMSELVES wish to get off of the drugs. Hence the low rate of success in treatment..it would be hard to leave bliss at the cost of living on the streets (heh).

I will be going to sleep, and waking at 4am to see if I can catch some video (yeh right), but mostly just going to “Eckhart Tolle” (zone out in the present) and enjoy the show.

Viewing beautiful nature makes you feel just so peaceful, so lucky to be witness to something epic.

Or insignificant and scared..depending on how your life is going Hasn’t happened to me for a while.

Older:

That is so..sick.

Its the inundation of Blogs, and reproduction / cross linking / basically stealing work and positing it to your own shitball website.

Really what this means is blogs and the like above are more relevant after a story publishes according to ranking so you can’t find the actual source-able document.

Not like “source-able” sources are really sources anymore with the plodding barely researched “news” blurbs put out.

Onward.

I feel like I want to do a million things. I know a few for certain: make money, publish a few books, do more traveling ala Vietnam with which I chill, getting a  cultural viewpoint of wherever I am versus a touristy party (though Vietnam was a party)..but, do I want to do x now, y later, z actually now.

Its all weird, which is why I respect authors, artists, and businessmen (and women) who can focus on just one singular goal and project for 2, 4, 20 years to see some vision that maybe only they could initially imagine.

Who knows.

Culmination of abuse, sick physical and sexual.

He was playing with the discarded lumps of wax he collected from the trash heap bellow the back wall of the main house..He could mould faces from the pieces and build entire families like the families down in the village, where boys and girls his age worked alongside their parents and when not working played in the woods and were always laughing.

This was where his brother found him. His brother with the sad face so unlike the wax ones he liked to make. He arrived carrying a coil of rope, and stood just inside the jammed-wide doors all overgrown.

Beak, who had a boring name back then, saw in his brother’s face a sudden distress, which then drained away and a faint smile took its place which was a relief since Beak always hated it when his brother went off somewhere to cry. Older brothers should never do that and if he was older, why, he’d never do that.

His brother then walked towards him, and still half smiling he said, ‘I need you to leave little one. Take your toys and leave here.’

Beak stared with wide eyes. His brother never asked such things of him. His brother had always shared this barn. ‘Don’t you want to play with me?’

‘Not now,’ his brother replied, and Beak saw that his hands were trembling which meant there’d been trouble back at the estate. Trouble with mother.

‘Playing will make you feel better,’ Beak said.

‘I know. But not now.’

‘Later?’ Beak began collecting his wax villagers.

‘We’ll see.’

There were decisions that did not seem like decisions. And choices could just fall into place when nobody was really looking and that was how things were in childhood just as they were for adults. Wax villagers cradled in his arms, Beak set off, out the front and into the sunlight. Summer days were always wonderful – the sun was hot enough to make the villagers weep with joy…

Decisions and choices, falling.

What was it he had wanted to ask? There was no memory of that. The memory of that was gone, melted down into nothing, It had been a very hot day.

Reaching the entrance he saw his brother — who had been sitting with legs dangling from the loft’s edge — slide over to drop onto the floor. But he didn’t drop all the way. The rope round his neck caught him instead

And then, his face turning dark as his eyes bulged and his tongue pushed out, his brother danced in the air, kicking through the shafts of dusky sunlight.

Beak ran up to him — the game his brother had been playing with the rope had gone all wrong, and now his brother was choking. He threw his arms about his brother’s kicking legs and tried with all his might to hold him up.

And there he stood, and perhaps he was screaming, but perhaps he wasn’t, because this was an abandoned place, too far away from anyone who might help.

His brother tried to kick him away. His brother’s fists punched down on the top of Beak’s head, hard enough to hurt but not so much since those hands couldn’t but barely reach him, short as he was being still younger than his brother. So he just held on.

Fire awoke in the muscles of his arms. In his shoulders. His neck. HIs legs shook beneath him, because he needed to stand on his toes — if he tried to move his arms further down to well below his brother’s knees, then his brother simply bent those knees and started choking again.

Fire everywhere, fire right through Beak’s body.

His legs were failing. HIs arms were failing. And as they failed his brother choked. Pee ran down to burn against Beak’s wrists and his face. The air was suddenly thick with worse smells and his brother never did things like this — all this mess, the terrible mistake with the rope.

Beak could not hold on, and this was the problem with being a younger brother, with being as he was. And the kicking finally stilled, the muscles of his brother’s legs becoming soft, loose. Two fingertips from one of his brother’s hands lightly brushed Beak’s hair, but they only moved when Beak himself moved, so those fingers were as still as the legs.

It was good that his brother wasn’t fighting any more. He must have loosened the rope from round his neck and was now just resting. And that was good because Beak was now on his knees, arms wrapped tight about his brother’s feet.

And there he stayed.

Until, three bells after dusk, one of the stable hands from the search party came into the barn with a lantern”

Then, a sacrifice for those whom he cared.

…he felt in himself a cleansing, a scouring away, what priests called purification, only they really knew nothing about purification because it had nothing to do with offerings of blood or coin and nothing to do with starving yourself and whipping your own back or endlessly chanting until the brain goes numb. Nothing like any of that. Purification, Beak now understood was final.

Beak was driven down by the immense weight, the horrible hunger. Yet he would not retreat…Survival, he realized, could only be found through purity. Of his love for them all — how so many of them had smiled at him, laughed with him. How hands clapped him on the shoulder and even, now and then, tousled his hair.

Arms wrapped tight, even as the fire began to burn the muscles of his arms. His shoulders and neck. His legs.

He could hold on, now, until they found him.

Those fires were so hot, now, burning – but there was no pain. Pain had been scoured away, cleansed away. Oh, the weight was vast, getting heavier still, but he would not leg go. Not of his brothers and his sisters, the ones he so loved. My friends.

In horror Faradan Sort found herself staring at a collapsed jumble of ashes and scorched bone. But no, there was a pattern in with that, a configuration, if she could but focus through her tears. Oh. The bones of the arms seemed to be hugging the knees, the crumpled skull settled on them. The bones of the arms seemed to be hugging the knees, the crumpled skull settled on them.

Like a child hiding in a closet, a child seeking to make himself small, so mall..

Beak. God’s below … Beak.

Meeting with this sacrifice this world’s underworld, an afterlife.

The hand gripping his arm was skeletal, the skin a strange huge of green. The figure, very tall, was hooded and wearing black rags. It seemed to be studying the gate.

‘Is that where I’m supposed to go, now?” Beak asked.

‘Yes.’

‘All right. Are you coming with me?

‘No.’

‘All right. Well, will you let go of my arm, then?’

The hand fell away. ‘It is not common,’ the figure then said.

‘What?’

‘That I attend to … to arrivals. In person.’

‘My name is Beak.’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s through there?’

‘You brother waits for you, Beak. He has been waiting a long time.’

‘Beak smiled and stepped forward, all at once in a great hurry — the silver light within that gate was beautiful, reminding him of something.

The strangers voice brought him round: ‘Beak.’

‘Yes?’

‘Your brother. He will not know you. Yet. Do you understand?’

Beak nodded…

‘My brother,’ Beak said, his smile broadening. ‘I’m taller now. Stronger. I can save him, can’t I?’

A long pause, and then the figure said, ‘Yes, Beak, you can save him.’

Yes, that made sense. He set out again. With sure strides to the gate, into that silver glow, to emerge on the other side in a glade beside a trickling stream. And kneeling near the bank. His brother. The same as he remembered. On the ground on all sides were hundreds of small wax figures. Smiling faces, an entire village, maybe even a whole town.

Beak walked up to his brother.

Who said, too shy to look up, ‘I made all of these, for him.’

‘They’re beautiful,’ Beak said, and he found tears running down his face, which embarrassed him so he wiped them away. Then asked, ‘Can I play with you?’

His brother hesitated, scanning all the figure, then he nodded. ‘All right.’

The words of Steven Erikson, though I am even on a reread, do indeed afflict me with awe. With sad emotions, powerful imagery and a study in pain, solitude and salvation.

Then a lovely poem to cap off the rough chapter.

I have seen the face of sorrow
She looks away in the distance
Across all these bridges
From whence I came
And those spans, trussed and ached
Hold up our lives as we go back again
To how we thought then
To how we through we thought then
I have seen sorrow’s face,
But she is ever turned away
And her words leave me blind
Her eyes make me mute
I do not understand what she says to me
I do not know if to obey
Or attempt a flood of tears
I have seen her face
She does not speak
She does not weep
She does not know me
For I am but a stone fitted in place
On the bridge where she walks