tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92599742024-02-19T23:32:41.915-08:00Snakewalk -- A. A. AttanasioA blog by A. A. Attanasio which intends to record not only the anatomy of the dead angel (our narrative assertions, especially our propensity for fiction) but also our silence, our ineffable relationship with the world, and the distillations of mystery we call qualia (wordless sensations).A. A. Attanasiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00448196255114712660noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9259974.post-10793547411686526892008-03-07T18:43:00.000-08:002009-07-10T19:46:39.299-07:004. The Mystery of DeathDeath is a tree. It grows toward the light. And the light-within branches through the body like a tree.In the dark long after, things happen as if they were not recalled.Those two passages probably mean nothing to you. Each of these four sentences is an agent of intelligence who dwells among the resemblances. What are these resemblances who confront you as you first enter the Inner Lips of the A. A. Attanasiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00448196255114712660noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9259974.post-8180760261088034792008-02-25T13:33:00.000-08:002009-07-10T19:45:43.176-07:003. End of the RoadConsciousness is a light that once burned deep in the stars. Reason is not its outcome but its suffering. I think about that every time I come here, to the end of this road. Look how abruptly the asphalt terminates. The boundary of the artificial frames the indivisible. That frame is our sanity. And the faded line of paint --- it’s famous in all our lives, isn’t it? A line of agreement more A. A. Attanasiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00448196255114712660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9259974.post-48952634095578112642008-02-15T10:34:00.000-08:002009-07-10T19:45:05.397-07:002. Spermatic JourneyOur snakewalk begins here, at the ordinary world of houses, cars and parking lots. In the background, the Goddess dwells. This is Koko Crater, which from the perspective of Honolulu to the west looks like a typical promontory. Seen from here, at the southeast corner of O’ahu, the cinder cone exposes two coalesced craters, which the first island settlers named Kohelepelepe: the Inner Lips of the A. A. Attanasiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00448196255114712660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9259974.post-24586513975564977112008-02-06T19:46:00.001-08:002008-12-14T17:18:25.188-08:001. The Dead AngelA sea snake bit me last month. While wading at night in Mauna Lua Bay, I felt a hot charge of pain at my ankle that flared up my leg, banged through my heart and punched the bags under my eyes. I thought it was a moray. But it was a venomous snake. The next morning, my whole body vibrated like a freeway to the next world. I got myself to the ER and, waiting there, watched the lights go down in myA. A. Attanasiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00448196255114712660noreply@blogger.com3