Drinking darkness, vomiting light

Tyler Durden in Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk

Yes, my work expresses darkness, struggle, and resistance. For long, I resisted this. My main creative block: ‘“my work should be higher and brighter than I am”’. But what comes out, must come out (insert release of intestinal gases/liquids here). Better out than in, they say. The demons and monsters, the psychedelic confusion and chaos warp the figures in my drawings and paintings. It’s where I am in my experience. I cannot express what is not in my awareness. Yet I become aware of the light of awareness, by examining the darkness. There is beauty in chaos, confusion and decay. I cease the struggle with the struggling, and turn it into an image, a form that can be witnessed.

Be the monsters that are here inside you. Live the dark desires you withhold, and suddenly freedom comes, to be… bright! The most ‘sinful’ of people can be the most liberated – they go through life, instead of trying to fly over it and land on a cloud. By diving into the fray of clashing flesh, teeth, boners and clitorises we rise to the surface of god’s ambrosiatic brew, instead of squeezing ourselves to breathe a bubble of holiness that collapses when we gasp shocked by the monsters and quakes that stampede straight through us. This hell is holy.

Ambrosia must be the juice of life, a carnal cocktail of sweat, musk, blood, sperm, spit, vaginal juices and brain-fluids, with the etheric oils of all flora in perfect harmony, stirred with galactic swirls over the fiery coronal licks of stars, and shaken by stars’ thundering deaths. When drunk, the dan-tien hara black hole accellerates and ones equator expands into the universe, the earth is engulfed through the anus and the sun swallowed by the mouth, all life sucked back into the womb, all light absorbed into the forehead, tunneling to ones core to fan out spraying new forms out from the hips, birthing galaxies, stars, planets and ecosystems supporting egoes.

Thus, all that exists is the body of god, the forms we stir in are the product of the very blood and sperm and juices we despise. Let’s not be what we are not. By trying to radiate light when we are in darkness, we rape ourselves and radiate rape. All our acts are part of the great swirling stew of existence. Don’t caress your drowning ego by telling yourself that your brighter life makes a difference among seven billion. You are this way because you should be this way. A cell in the soup. Let that ego be that selfish bastard and that naggy bitch. Enjoy your self. A sin not lived is a divine call missed. God has penises and vaginas. So be godlike, be yours, truly.

Yours truly, Timothy Ambrosiac

the God-Honoring Hunter for Ambrosia