Title: rap game eternal freedom from social and natural programming
My novel is about meditation.
It is about the struggle to find enlightenment.
My novel is about the fact that North American lifestyle is inconsistent with the fundamentals of eastern spirituality
My novel is about how culture/society fucks with the ability to attain peace
My novel is about two people who have holes in them they are trying to fill.
My novel is about the wall you come up against, over and over when trying to meditate.
My novel is about someone dying and the feeling of emptiness you feel when they are gone.
My novel is about living a privileged lifestyle.
My novel is about what sex is to men and women these days.
My novel is about the internal monologue that regularly works to disrupt the process of watching/relaxing/letting go during meditation.
My novel is about being raised on SNES games and 90s movies.
My first novel was about two people wriggling through life using drugs as a substance of fulfilment. My second novel is about two people wriggling through life using meditation and spirituality as a form of fulfilment.
My novel is set in the present day and reference top 40 songs.
My novel is about the importance of siblings, the strange relationship one has with a sister. It is about being parentless.
My novel is about aloneness which is positive and loneliness which is negative.
My novel is about the fact that a person living a life using tools like facebook, google, driving cars, working, making money, partying, that this lifestyle is wholly inconsistent with the kind of lifestyle one needs to live in order to achieve a state of satori; which is a state of enlightenment I fully believe to exist as I have in certain times of meditativeness touched upon it, rubbed it’s membrane, felt and experienced something of it, however ephemerally, and want to fully attain but feel I cannot attain it in this present world.
The storm then, a drink sharp, Frank sips then gulps, watching the Katies, watching his friends, eyes rolling socket, he thinks of what best to do, to move outward or hold back in his present state. His whiskey gets seemingly warmer, and he takes more into himself, commixing his internals with that distilled warmth, his blood takes it, people laugh and he laughs. Everyone seems larger than themselves, as if this is Mario 3, World 4: the giant world. Frank imagines himself staring up at bobble headed friends, he’s sweating, shrinking, someone mentions the thunderstorms and Frank hears them, someone hands him a plastic glass explaining it’s a ‘foreign drink’ and Frank takes it in, his belly filling, bladder itching, every surface and line alters itself into a blur, like a shakily taken photo, like a Rutenberg all violent with color and shapelessness and this then is the dark of his life, so far from that beach and those stars, he smiles and turns to someone, tells them he loves them. He sees rain streaked across his windows, thunder shaking small objects. He stares at his sister’s room, its door closed firmly. Everyone has disappeared soon, the geometry is four dimensional: this space, this body, his own dark mind, therein Frank loses himself, his centeredness and in misery he grabs one of the Katie’s asses, she lets him, takes her red hair into his mouth, falls away with her while people cheer, or he thinks they cheer. He cannot hold his liquor, he is a cheap drunk, he loses himself completely but knowingly, like a thunderstorm, like a survivor.
Walking drunkenly throughout the crowded, touristy streets of downtown Munich, Frank imagined herself as a single cell travelling without logic through a bodily system, searching its function. The fairytale, baroque structures rising at the edges of her vision, the cobbled streets, the festivities of Bavaria wove together, like the anatomy of some deep sea creature, odd in form to human eyes but beautiful and Frank felt a part of this pattern, not that she was happy here or even belonged, but that she was supposed to be here, within it. People smiled at her, everything felt warm and distantly, as if watching both herself and her mind from a meditative place beyond physical presence, she noted that close-by was her true state, moksha or bodhi or satori or whatever, enlightenment, a state that was there, would always be there and all she needed to do was liberate herself from the exclusive identification of herself as her personality, to rise up like city steam from the social/physical structures of man and simply realize, attain that condition of being in which one was identical with the universe, was the universe. Like a dot within the city, she felt something greater than herself subsuming, as when the ocean accepts a raindrop, pressing through the edges of her physical being. Yearningly she walked forward into the darkening night, through the bustling Marienplatz, toward a space she felt may offer a new spiritual vibe, some not so far off grove within which to transcend, maybe.