I can already taste the heartbreak you'll bring.
I'm not afraid of hurting, it's a given, and I know who to hurt for.
A journal entry from RA YUKAWA.
I have several questions.
Like: Could you see yourself murdering your own siblings? How important is revenge to you? Would you murder your spouse, in favour of your lover, just because it’ll liberate you to move into a more successful position in life?
Is it necessary to satiate every mysterious and intense sexual desire, or to wed / be with every person whom you share a deeply loving bond with, even if it means you must lie, cheat, and steal to do so?
Riches and fame? Or home and family? Would you wage a war, tearing apart yourself and everything you love, for the dream of having both, to not lose one for the other? How important is it to you that you fulfil your destiny, no matter who you have to drag out of your way, or how far away from yourself (or the you that you’ve always known) that you have to go?
Just curious…
I’m finishing up the Vikings series and throughout my binge, I’ve been thinking, over and over again, Wow… I know this is a drama, but man, people really are this fickle and savage, huh? One moment they’re all, “My every breath I breathe smells of your essence because our destinies are intertwined. I will gladly go to Valhalla in honour of our love.” Then the next, the same characters of those same relationships are like, “I want to see my husband strung up in a tree” or “If you won’t accept the three of us being together, feel free to leave...”
And that’s just pertaining to romantic affairs, but no type of relationship is safe in the series, as rings true in life. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. I’ve done it. You’ve done it. We’ve both been on each end, of change. That’s all it is really. It’s above and beyond people, it’s the intrinsic nature of everything. Impermanence. It’s most noticeable when you’re trying to build something.
That’s why anything with some authentic and pure staying power is so venerated in this life.
They say the hearts of women are turned on a whirling wheel, but my heart belonged to him. And when he died, the High One cried aloud. (Gunnhildr, Vikings, Season 6, Episode 11: King of Kings)
I admit, I’m rather jaded by the way the winds tend to blow us all. I examine, that many of us are. Souls, just clinging. Eventually, letting go.
The way the winds tend…
Eventually, we unfetter our fingers to feel the blood coursing through our palms like the indentions that line our fate, the oxygen flowing through our veins, up our necks and out the silhouette of our bodies… gusting. We, the wind that blows the wind. The beginning and the end, ceasing to exist but to persist. The edge of everything; what, non-subtlety. What, exhausted. Passion.
I had a casual conversation with my kin a while back, in which we spoke about one of our favourite things: etymology and the metaphysical structuring of words. He said to me, "I think it's interesting that with every form of art — or at least the ones that I'm thinking about right now — the word [for the type of art] has the [catalyst for the] art in it. Like, music, you have 'muse'. And then, with paint, you have 'pain'. And write — you got a 'rite of passage', or just 'righting' your wrongs..." I understood.
A couple of months later, he expressed his desire to get a new tattoo, of a singular word: PAINT.
I understood.
And now, as I step back in observation of the title and subtitle of this journal entry, and its text, knowing that he's the painter of the art that I curated for the illustration of the topic at hand, I can't help but think, "Damn... PAIN." You understand?
Full circle.
(His social — Instagram handle — is dominicvangoth. An alkhemical genius and superb soul.)