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Lera Auerbach



Last Updated: 6/25/2009

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Status: Single
City: New York
State: New York
Country: US
Signup Date: 3/31/2007

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May 8, 2007 - Tuesday 
I am my memory, the sum total of all the moments I have lived. Moreover, my "I" divides and multiplies: I am an infant, and an elderly person, and an artist, and a thief, and a murderer. All of these possible past incarnations of mine swarm past in my subconscious like phantoms, and when I begin a monologue in my own name (as I see myself at this very moment), I inevitably put it into the mouth of a phantom from my own midst. And that which seemed to me to be sincere and the only true thing when I was writing is only one facet of a thousand and, like the crooked mirror, does not reflect the features, but distorts them. Although who knows, perhaps only crooked mirrors tell us the truth. I see crowds and crowds of people. Among them are artists, captains, artisans and kings, musicians and circus performers, milkmen and murderers. And all of them are me. And every time I begin to wind the thread that leads me out of the labyrinth toward the light, instead of exiting I fall into a new labyrinth. In each of the labyrinths a Minotaur lies in wait--sin that arrives from my former incarnation. And my goal is to kill the Minotaur.
Here are several characters from my spectral retinue:


Madman
Gambler
Robber
Adventurer
Wise Hermit
Skeptic
Child
Artist (Odysseus
His Muse
Apollo (Rational Force)
Dionysus (Elemental Force)
Gaiea (Primordial feminine, fertility, the mystery of birth passed on from mother to daughter)
Savage (Mowgli)
Nymphette
Homeless Wanderer (The Wandering Jew)
Martyr Hero (for whatever you like: faith, fatherland, ideas)
Clown
Whore and Nun
Don Quixote
Maniac Murderer
Joseph, sold into Egypt


–Well, who else is there, come out into the light!
The characters are wearing masks, one transmutes into another. A mirrored hall, where the mirrors reflect one another, fracturing the reflections. A carnival of phantoms; bifurcation, disorder, division of my self.
...In his own likeness and image...
A crowd of mirror werewolves.
Welcome to the theater of the absurd.
Abel = Cain.
And so, ladies and gentleman, let's begin.
David Howard
David Howard

 
You ask: 'Well, who else is there?'


*

On our sea-wall gorse softens
from a distance: close up
it stings deeper for appearing

benign. ‘Oh, this habit of always
existing in places where I don’t
live or in a time which is past or is

yet to come.’ I wanted to talk
ideas: you remained one.
Semantics, tense, and time to kill both

opportunity and motive.


*

Behind that belt of Scotch firs
our house – you knew every room
although it was a ruin before
you were born, and for what?

Not even the ghost of a ghost
to disturb by winding up
the musical box. This staircase
a great well, go up to drink.


*

Even your mother doesn’t know
your name. Constant yet changing
like the horizon, your smile

belongs to no body. Abroad
for more years than most soldiers
you always wore jade –

today I fondle that necklace.
Touching?
My prints obliterate yours.


*

Dust on lock and bolt. Up the
back of beyond that chain-
link fence x-ray and metal-detector
for Arrivals and Departures.

Our valley filled with Firestone
tyres, bones, coprosma
more brilliant than sunlight
in a pin-hole. See.

 
 
Posted by David Howard on May 8, 2007 - Tuesday - 6:05 AM
[Reply to this
Malcolm R. Campbell

 
"You" are, I see, the wonder child. --Malcolm
 
Posted by Malcolm R. Campbell on May 25, 2007 - Friday - 5:53 PM
[Reply to this
Michael
Michael Hatch

 
A life is a juxtaposition of many things/times/people/places. Not all lives have the same depth in time in the sense that some are young souls whose life does not encompass as many life cycles as an older soul. The labyrinth is a very old image that symbolizes so much- loss of time, loss of memory, loss of the way - an eternal pilgrimage. If each life is a lesson, then the labyrinth is a reminder of all the life cycles that we make, many of which are simply dead ends.


Which is more real, the life of mind or the physical world that seeks to claim us? Of course the labyrinth is also a perfect metaphor for the mind.


Here is a passage from the Scottish poet Edwin Muir:

"Since I emerged that day from the labyrinth, dazed with the tall and echoing passages... after the straw ceased rustling and the bull lay dead upon the straw and I remained, blood-splashed, if dead or alive I could not tell...( I stared in wonder at the young and old, for in the maze time had not been with me)

I could not live if this were not an illusion. It is a world, perhaps; but there's another - for once in a dream I saw the gods.


That was the real world; I have touched it once, and now shall know it always. But the lie, the maze, the wild-wood waste of falsehoood, roads that run and run and never reach an end. Oh these deceits are strong almost as life.


Last night I dreamt I was in the labyrinth, and woke far on.


I did not know the place.
"




 
Posted by Michael on April 18, 2009 - Saturday - 10:08 AM
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