RABID IN THE MOON.

"Dear, what ever are you doing outside?"


"I´m waiting for the Moon to come out so the rabbit can play with me."


"The rabbit?"


"Yes, he lives there, that´s why..."


"There you are! Where have you been all this time? I waited for this moment my whole life..."

(continued)...

THEATER

"I noticed that there is a recurring dream nowadays and I was wondering if you could please help me out interpreting it," I said while shared the rest of the night with Edith in a peculiar artsy bar located on 22nd St. Since the place had a strange vibe of odd and old fashioned at the same time it felt so surreal that it was perfect to be more introspective about nonsensical dreams.

"Go ahead, be my guest!" answered Edith effusively.

"Well it starts of like this; I was asked to do an interview for a magazine by this particular woman. She was quite tall and had this sort of old fashioned hairdo, very 70s like..."

"Wow..." she said sounding truly engaged.

"So then I was to meet her somewhere like a museum, there was another friend by her side. Instead she took me to a movie theater, and we went into one cinema but I noticed that it had a hole in the all which led to another room, like a secret one..."

"Oh..."

"And then as I entered it felt so familiar that it reminded me of  something that scared and my immediate reaction was to cover my eyes like when you´re little and you got to see a scary movie for the first time. And then the tall woman said, "It´s alright, there´s nothing to be afraid of, you just have to change the way you look at things, start over. Now what do you think that means."

Edith gave a deep sigh and took a sip of white wine, " It´s not so much about what it means, it´s more like digging up a repressed memory or a part of your life and the way that you remember it is that it was basically scary..."

"Let me guess, the knowledge of the supernatural?" I said with a little sarcasm.

"Yes, but it´s more like meeting an old friend and you piled it up or boxed it somewhere because it made you feel embarrassed or humiliated, and it´s nothing to be ashamed of. You see, admitting your sexuality´s been good, that you have a strong imagination is good to, but there´s still something else you need to successfully embrace in order to feel better."

"I see...why doesn´t any of these things surprise me anymore?"

"Because you´re becoming more familiarized with them, it´s an internal battle, sweetie, you have to love yourself each and every day of the week," she said as she pointed to my chest, "don´t you forget that."

Loving myself meant reconciling with every other part of me, such as The White Rabbit. Maybe he WAS my dark side but I refused to let him out because he was uncontrollable sometimes...yet he was never evil. I drove him into the darkness to make him look like a major shame. The major fear was that if I´d trade places with him Edith would suffer as well.

I remember vaguely at school a slide about a Mexican painter called The Two Fridas. In a way it was a tribute to her other self. There was the woman who was chained to a ladies man and the other was her imaginary friend, all dressed in white.

I never thought a woman painter could be so intense and passionate enough but at the same time she went through an incredible deal of pain. Maybe I should paint my other self,whether I liked it or not, black and white rabbit binded for life, how simple.

"You´re right, Edith, you did it once again."

"Did what?"

"Now that all my paintings have been sold I feel like this is the beginning of a path I´ll have to walk through..."

"You sound so serious, is something the matter, this should be a good sign, right?"

"Yes...someone said to me not so long ago that a rabbit would never hurt me, what I´m concerned about is if it might hurt others."

"Don´t be ridiculous, how bad can it be?"

"Well, then I guess it all depends on me; it´s up to me to find out who´s the villain and who´s the hero in this huge theater."

CONCERNED (continued):

I resorted to the comfort of my studio. As I felt the moonlight flooding the room I opened my new ´magic book´and read some more:


The artist is the hand which plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul, getting back to Kandinsky.

It so turns out that what seemed to be the biggest mindfuck I've ever experienced in a way had happened before. I was not so sure if this unknown path but if anyone else knew better than me was The White Rabbit.

I can't even remember when I crafted him. He came out in my hour of despair. The term imaginary friend has been so misconcieved over the years. I remember very well the first time I watched The Exorcist the last thing Regan saw before she was possessed was Captain Howdy...wait. I remember now...he only showed when I "was" sick but then again Mother presumed I was all the time. And I hated her for that, how much did I hate her for that! The question is, how did I repress these memories, was it because of The White Rabbit? Did he wipe out those nasty episodes so I could start over?

Then again, the ghost of 'that' girl has no interest in me whatsoever, au contraire, she wants me to give in to my spiritual side while the rest of the mortal world expects to see Adrian Black.

"Adrian...Adrian".

"Oh! It's you, woman, what are you doing in here, did you get lost or something?"

"God, you're so mean! You don't want me here, fine." She was almost completely dressed in black, except for this short blue sweater that went well with her round beautiful blue eye, what could I say, she inspired me.

"No, please don't walk away, I'm sorry if I offended you...come here."

And so I wrapped her tightly in my arms and I felt so comforted as well, yet there was an odd feeling that I'd had to treasure this moment as much as I could, seeing her wear the locket I gave her last Christmas reminded me even more of such a thing.

"I see you still have it, " I said.

"Of course I do! I don't forget that easily, remember?"

Oh great, now she was using my own words against me.

"Why, are we celebrating something? ´Cause I'm not that kind of shitty boyfriend who forgets anniversaries or little things like those.

"No! Of course not."

"I'm sorry if I've kept you abandoned all this time, it's just that..."

"I understand, you're devoted to your work, that's your biggest affair and I don't discuss that but, could it allow me to steal for a few hours so we can spend some quality time together? After all, it's a weekend, you know."

"So what did you have in mind? You know, actually there IS something worth celebrating...all my paintings have been sold."

"Oh my God, really? Why didn´t you tell me this?"

"I never make a huge mess out of this, usually I just hang around with a nice bottle of Merlot, but tonight we make an exception, because we did it together, I couldn´t have done without you, and Feivel and Mr. Blackwell..."

"Shh, I understand, this is just between you and me. We´re in this together now."

I loved it when she talked dirty.

terrible glaring eyes


seven spirits of rebellion




diaki

CONCERNED

Mr. Cohen has been after my father for quite some time it wouldn't surprise me that now he's after you. In the meantime it would be prudent that you read this.

Sincerely,
Caroline King.

And that's how I was talked into literally devouring Concerning The Spiritual Of Art. It seems as if all the answers, well, almost all of them were embedded into this book giving me a new reason to get up in the morning and to feel more powerful than ever.

He sees and points the way. The power to do this he would sometimes fain lay aside, for it is a bitter cross to bear. But he cannot do so. Scorned and hated, he drags after him over the stones the heavy chariot of a divided humanity, ever forwards and upwards.

It sounded more like a prophecy, very much like the little dead girl said, "Find the Thousand, find the Thousand..." she said. I sincerely don't know who the Hell they are yet, whether they're my true friends or foes but somewhere in between the lines I found a hint of that concept, it says:

"The new torchbearer of truth will find the minds of men prepared for his message, a language ready for him in which to clothe the new truths he brings, an organization awaiting his arrival, which will remove the merely mechanical, material obstacles and difficulties from his path," quoting Blavatsky, a member of the Theosopical Movement.

How did Mr. King come up with all of this? Because the girl showed him the way. It was rumored that the fire caused the factory up in Hell's Hundred Acres, the one I was researching was blamed on a member of that secret society. Clever, blame it on the misconceptions of witchcraft, why don't you?

Anyway, it was never proven by the law, however how come that child knew so well about the Occult? This book was written on the first decade of the last century and Blavatsky had already gained some fame in New York. This very spot was critical; it did leave a trace behind.

Now, according to this, Caroline's father decided to reinterpret Kandinsky's and form a new society of artists named The Thousand, however his project had failed due to lack of interest and the fear of being labeled or pursued. He did have a strong belief in spiritual and visionary painting. I was just about to become involved in all of this.

Freddie, who among other things was a huge art lover was desperate to solve the mysteries behind the making of these works, for he was absolutely that they were performed under certain circumstances, things that I could have done including but not necessarily substance abuse. If so, all these theories would be dropped, so he asked me if I'd kept a log of these activities and what better way to prove it than through my diaries, what better evidence than that?

On the other hand, Mr. King was less careful, he had been more spontaneous since there were very few examples of what he did, he only followed the methods or guidelines described by Wassily Kandinsky, his works always followed the shape of a triangle, a sort of growth, always either going upwards or downwards. Funny, my shapes were spirals, like the one in The Thousand and a sort of hexagon like in Ritual.

There was a lot of ground to cover, still, I did feel tired at all. Before I realized it was Saturday. Mark had come over to do some updates on my website and I did feel like talking about my little mishap back at Droogie's, so this is what he told me.

"Seriously man, how the fuck did you get involved in all that shit?"

"I'm sorry, what shit?" I said a little bit distracted while I was feeding Scraps some baby carrots.

"You know, you did tell me ´bout Stefan."

"I warned you about Stefan, that's what! Damn, couldn't he just settle for someone else, I mean, what the Hell does he see in me?"

Mark shook his head, "Oh, I don't know about that, cuz ya know I don't speak fag..."

"You don't have to, being bi is so much more complicated to explain than being gay, it's like they think we're always confused that they expect that we need to define ourselves eventually."

"Mmmhmm, yeah, whatever dude."

He sees and points the way. The power to do this he would sometimes fain lay aside, for it is a bitter cross to bear. But he cannot do so. Scorned and hated, he drags after him over the stones the heavy chariot of a divided humanity, ever forwards and upwards.
Often, many years after his body has vanished from the earth, men try by every means to recreate this body in marble, iron, bronze, or stone, on an enormous scale. As if there were any intrinsic value in the bodily existence of such divine martyrs and servants of humanity, who despised the flesh and lived only for the spirit! But at least such setting up of marble is a proof that a great number of men have reached the point where once the being they would now honour, stood alone.
--------------
In every segment of the triangle are artists. Each one of them who can see beyond the limits of his segment is a prophet to those about him, and helps the advance of the obstinate whole. But those who are blind, or those who retard the movement of the triangle for baser reasons, are fully understood by their fellows and acclaimed for their genius. The greater the segment (which is the same as saying the lower it lies in the triangle) so the greater the number who understand the words of the artist. Every segment hungers consciously or, much more often, unconsciously for their corresponding spiritual food. This food is offered by the artists, and for this food the segment immediately below will tomorrow be stretching out eager hands.
--------------

The solitary visionaries are despised or regarded as abnormal and eccentric. Those who are not wrapped in lethargy and who feel vague longings for spiritual life and knowledge and progress, cry in harsh chorus, without any to comfort them. The night of the spirit falls more and more darkly. Deeper becomes the misery of these blind and terrified guides, and their followers, tormented and unnerved by fear and doubt, prefer to this gradual darkening the final sudden leap into the blackness.
-----

The new torchbearer of truth will find the minds of men prepared for his message, a language ready for him in which to clothe the new truths he brings, an organization awaiting his arrival, which will remove the merely mechanical, material obstacles and difficulties from his path." Blavatsky

-----
The artist is the hand which plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul.

---
Painting has two weapons at her disposal:
1. Colour. 2. Form.

SURRENDERED (continued):

I think that there has to be a dark side to everybody, it's just that artists have the god given opportunity to express it more often. My weapon is just this paintbrush right here and I can use it just like a magic wand to cast all the demons away, pure and simple.

I've been battling a silent enemy for years and it ain't exactly the White Rabbit or all the other voices in my head. No matter how badly I wanted to literally brush it off from my life it always came back to haunt me. And I promised Edith I'd make a huge example of it displaying it on a painting...but she ignores I already did it some time ago. An innocent game that turned into a goddamn nightmare...for now I'll skip that subject.

Saturday was it, I believe, I keep losing track of time. At long last I began to receive e-mail from Caroline, the real one and tried my best to pretend this wasn't another hallucination.

She said Freddie Cohen had been contacting his father for months to work on a side project of his. Great! Now it all starts to make sense since they have been doing their very worst to get to me in a very unorthodox way. To this point I actually didn't care if whether some eccentric millionaires who had nothing better to do were trying to use me, just buy me. Whatever they did with my work afterwards was none of my goddamn business.

"Hey there! You're alive!" cried Damien as he entered my office.

"Dude, I'm a cat and have nine lives, how awesome can that get," I said sarcastically. At that very same moment it occurred to me that I could pull the same kind of tricks I tried with Edith a few hours ago.

"Tell me something my friend and be completely honest..." I said as I put my hands together. " Do I seem like a tool for everyone else's pleasure?"

"W-what?!" he said freaked out. "Oh, I GET IT now, it´s about that whole thing yesterday, huh? I knew something didn´t go your way. But don´t worry, I´m practically invisible, especially around you know who..."

"Wait, what do you think I´m actually talking about?" I asked nervous.

"Some girl who happens to be the new "it" girl..."

"No,no,no, I wasn´t referring to her, I was telling you that lately I feel like my art is being used for sinister purposes. Some even believe they´re haunted, for crying out loud."

"Well, be careful what you wish for you know, oh, by the way, here´s the material you sent me out for the Cohen thing, and the supplies."

"Excellent, now we´ll see if this is actually the piece of the puzzle I was looking for." He gave a handsome hardback book with an abstract illustration adorned with primary colors.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Concerning The Spiritual In Art; my new magic book by the "sorcerer" Kandinsky. This will help me find out why all the lines are beginning to blur in my life lately."

(continued)...

SURRENDERED

Don´t touch, please don´t...please, stop...not now, don´t touch me...please don´t.

Goddammit! I was muttering that in my sleep? Well, at least that´s what Edith said.

She started talking to me a little bit more than the last few days but she proceeded with care. Actually we had a long introspective conversation just this morning. She wanted to make sure that I was taking damn good care of myself so she handed me a bowl of oatmeal, something I haven´t had in a long time.

"Now, this is isn´t the stuff that usually comes in those tiny packs, this is the real thing...well actually I improved it so you tell me if it´s any good."

"It´s...it´s great, actually I think everything´s coming back to me now, " I said.

"You were talking in your sleep, did you have a rough night?"

"I don´t feel like talking about it, nothing big really." I continued.

"I see...well, I´m sure things will pick up."

"On the other hand I would gladly appreciate listening to anything else, thank you very much..."

"Oh!" she cried as she sat down with me. "I thought you´d never ask. Well, I´ve had some very interesting patients lately, unlike other times. There´s this young girl, she´s in her twenties she claims she´s terribly depressed, not the kind you get when your boyfriend dumps you depression, she´s hard to figure out. Quite frankly I don´t why but no matter how badly I want to get away from this I was born to help people."

"Actually, " I said, "I kinda wanted to ask you, am I that hard to figure out? Answer me one question and be totally honest..."

"Sure, go right ahead..."

"If you saw me walking down on the street could you tell that I´m gay?"

Edith froze for a while, of course at this point anyone would, "That´s a very random comment even for you, but if you must insist..."

"Then..."

"Of course not! Why would you say something like that?"

"Nothing, just forget it."

"Whoa, excuse me but it´s hard to get over something like that, so if you don´t tell me I´m going to bug you all day."

I gave a deep sigh, "Fine, I didn´t want to bring it up, but, yeah, last night started more or less good but then it turned out to be one hell of a disaster. I felt used, but then again it´s always been that way."

"OK, this sounds a little bit more serious than I expected."

"It´s because of the way they perceive me. You must remember I ran into Stefan last year, do you?"

"Uh, yes, you saw him again?"

"Yes I saw him again because he works with my other incredibly famous friend. Anyway, I know it sounds ridiculous telling this to you but...how can I ever control that if I´m convinced I prefer a million times to be around you?"

Edith frowned, "Look, I don´t want to mess with your sexuality but I would treat this as a normal situation in which someone else is hitting on you whether it´s a man or a woman."

"Would you freak out on me if it were a woman?"

"Absolutely! As long as you tell me this being completely honest I´m OK with that. Thus, I definitely would walk away from you if you cheated on me because that´s so not you."

"Alright, alright, I don´t wanna heat things up, just asking for advice. Once again, this is really great."

"I´m gonna stay with you every morning because I want to make sure you finish it. I do want you to overcome this, for good."

"I promise, I mean, I´ll do it, for myself."

"Thank you, sweetie..." she kissed me deeply, "Now get out there and conquer the world for me."

I laughed uncontrollably. I had no choice but to surrender to her every sweet word.

(continued):

DANGEROUS DOLL PARTS (continued):

It wasn't the first official time I ever sang in front of a small audience, Edith and I used to do karaoke for a while after we started dating; she is the one with the lovely angelic voice anyway. Doing it now all by myself somehow felt as if I was being treated like an object, a Pandora's box, a caged nightingale..no let's not go too far. 


What I thought was a bit over the top and for sure will get me in deep trouble once they post them was a series of candid shots with yours truly and Droogie. She felt this sort of schoolgirl crush for me so she couldn't resist. They were taken just in front of my two devilish creations Rabbit Monster and the overrated Easy On The Eyeliner. The video for the song with the same title was taken in that very same apartment all in black and white. Well, actually black and white is rarely done nowadays, it's grayscale but it still doesn't achieve the same dramatic effect in the contrast. In the end it looked chic, Madonna chic, as Stefan called it. 


It's not really that outrageous for painters to hang out with rockstars and getting away with it, in fact Mr. Warhol was one of those few who made this business multi disciplinary, I may be thinking of doing short films and spreading them all over the web like a major disease, you had to do something, right?


"I'm dying to confess you something , Adrian," said Droogie feeling a little bit partied out, but judging by the way she pranced around it must have been around 3 AM. I even had to hold her every now and then...now it truly felt like that Halloween night with Chloë.


"Don't think we're using you to get advantage of you or anything s-similar," she slurred, "I mean, you've already brought us luck, my single is climbing the charts all the way and it will make me even more famous than I am now, so I can't thank you enough, but..."


"But..." I continued in a very proper manner.


"The whole thing about Charlie that night...it was Stefan's idea. He is actually the one who's after you."


"Hee..."I sighed deeply. "Girl, I knew that, he's always had the hots for me. I think it's fucking stupid for him not to have the you know what to come and say it to my face."


"Please, d-don't get mad at him, after all, you did get a freebie, didn't you?  Besides, I don't want this to ruin or beautiful alliance, just keep your distance."


"So that's it? It's a friendship between you and me, that's it?"


"Of course!!! What, did you think I was after you? Look sweetie, I know you might have this impression that I'm some sort of pervert, man eater..."


"What about the thing on Christmas Eve, was that his idea as well?"


"Y-yes..."


"Goddamn it, girl, didn't you realize for one moment this almost ruined my relationship?" I said.


"Oh, c'mon, you enjoyed it, I was doing you a favor so you can feel more confident to come out."


"I already came out years ago! That wasn't necessary. You think you know me well, but you have no idea..."


"Do you love her?" she said all of a sudden. 


"What?! What kind of a question is that?" Of course she was referring to Edith.


"That's right, sweet thing," That was definitely the voice of Stefan who came out of nowhere only to make me feel even more uncomfortable. "After all, she's not like us, she's way too average for you." 


"What?!"


"Answer the question, she interferes with your plans..." he said.


She inteferes...


Those words echoed in my head all the way down to one of my many encounters with the little dead girl...


"You guys don't have the right to decide for me, especially when it's about Edith. I choose what's best for me."


"Oh, for crying out loud, Adrian! You're practically caught up between two worlds, so what's it going to be?"


"You, you can't...my head."


"Oh Dear God, not again," said Stefan, I think.


"You should know better than that! After all he's find for us at least we should make ourselves useful. Come on, help him up..." said Droogie, I think.


After that, I remember so little, probably Mark and Damien making small talk taking me home. What I do recall however was this noise in the background.

DANGEROUS DOLL PARTS (continued):

"When we chant we invoke those who dwell in our unconscious, we cast the demons out and they feast for a night or two..." I said in the middle of my apparent drunkenness.

"I didn't know you sang, Adrian..." said the lovely voice of Droogie. I stepped up to the improvised stage because I was encouraged to do so, Mark insisted...it was either that or his incredibly awesome rap. So I pulled down my rabbit hood feeling mighty relaxed and inspired, ironically more inspired than at my birthday.

"Everyone does, everyone should," I said.

"Yeah but not everyone does it good," said Droogie swinging her champagnes glass.

"You never know how good you are until you try, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"OK, let's see what you can do, pretty boy..."

"I had a huge craving to sing this little classic for all you rabbit hunting people out there in the crowd, especially you fine looking woman. So here it goes..."

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall.
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall,
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call.
Call Alice
When she was just small.
When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go.
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low.
Go ask Alice
I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said:"Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head"

"Yay!! Bravo!" cried the young diva clapping her hands in a cutesy way without making a sound. "Maybe you could join my band sometime.

"Oh, no, I already did enough...besides I couldn´t compare to Grace Slick, she would do it a thousand times better."

"Well, what would you say if I began painting like you?" she said tenaciously.

"I´d said, not a bad idea, I´d just say find your voice, your own identity. Kandinsky once said:

Each period of a civilisation creates an art that is specific in it and which we will never see reborn. To try and revive the princples of art of past centures can lead only to the production of stillborn works.

"And your point is?" she said.

"Be yourself, that´s all!"

"I see, like when some smartass pseudo artists think they can rise to instant fame doing cover songs from the eighties and nineties. "

I fell almost speechless, "Yeah...don´t do cover songs unless you can make them baddass.!

(continued)...

DANGEROUS DOLL PARTS (continued):

WHITE RABBIT´S INVOCATION:


When the paw hits the water sparks to fly,
When the paw hits the ground thunder rumbles
When the paw hits the wind he can walk in the skies.
When the paw hits the fire there´s red in his eyes,


out comes the rabbit...

"Oh, there you are, dearest Adrian! You decided to come, won´t you join we´re watching a little film starring me and a few of my naughty friends." This time she wore a golden corset and thigh high boots and fishnets, and she was still feeling like the goddess of the night.

It so happened that my little Droogie had carefully crafted a short fake snuff film where a cute, sort of cheerleader girl and her go on a road trip, however they are totally unaware that a psychotic man with a rabbit´s head kidnaps them and throws them in the back of the car. Curiously, Droogie was wearing green track suit with her name printed on the back, and with zero make up, which made her look trashier. She was intending to include with her new album; and I thought I was deranged.

"So, what do you think about it?"

"It's a one way ticket to extreme controversy, but why would you need my approval, that's up to your record company."

"Oh," she giggled. " Don't you worry about that insignificant detail, we already have that figured out. So, we haven't talked too much ever since your own birthday."

"Yeah I'd rather call it unbirthday, it was anything but a pleasant experience."

"I'm way too sorry to hear about that..." she said in a softer tone trying to be more empathetic.

"Nah, it's OK, it's just that I wasn't in my mi five senses that night...I was actually in my six, so that's why it was more trippier."

"Ha, ha! I know what that feels like. Listen, about Charlie, you know, he knows I like to play, nothing serious, no hard feelings?"

Deep down I wanted to pretend that he wasn´t the cause of my misunderstanding with Edith, but I kinda was but on the other hand I didn´t want to spoil the moment so I proceeded with diplomacy.

"Absolutely...why not?" I smiled.

"Do you want to know what´s on my mind?" she asked.

"Whoa, no need to answer that judging from I what me and my friends just witnessed...then again little Damien here could be a bit sensitive and get seriously traumatized..."

"Is that right?" said she.

"No way!" cried Damien. "I think it´s highly artistic, very avant garde, in fact it reminded me of the early bondage work the legendary Bettie Page."

"See there, Adrian I think you underestimated him."

"By the way, awesome place you have here, lots of space," said Mark.

"Why, thank you! You´re welcome back anytime...except for you, Adrian, you´re a big meanie."

"OK..." I replied.

"I´m just fucking with you, come I´ll show you around."

(continued)...