mercredi 6 janvier 2010

Eroshima my love

Its almost impossible to express an idea that exists beyond space and time and thought, an idea based more on a feeling than anything else, but I'll try anyway, in this two-dimensional format. A Vulcan mind-meld would be more effective.

On 4/4/2009, I got my fourth and final tattoo, the word "Eroshima" on my upper right arm, my arms are quite symmetric now. If our bodies are our temples, then there's nothing wrong with hanging a few paintings on the walls.

"Eroshima" is the title of my favorite book of the modern era, the best read since the Gilgamesh Epic in my opinion, which is sad when you think about it since it implies that nothing worthwhile or truly original was written in the 4,800 years between the two, which might be true (most other mythologies and religions are merely copy/paste of what was written before, and everything written supposedly outside the context of these primordial stories were heavily influenced by them nonetheless). Eroshima is the fusion of the words "Eros" (love/sex) and Hiroshima, and its meaning (along with the subject of the book) comes from the imagining of a young Japanese couple, waking up together in bed in the small city of Hiroshima on that fateful morning.

They open their eyes, they smile at each other, they make love. Very gently, very silently, Japanese style. And as they climax, their eyes are closed and their mouths are open, and it feels as if there is a bright white light inside of their bodies, inside of their heads. In that moment of eternal bliss, they don't notice there's suddenly a bright white light outside as well. They are disintegrated, they will never know what happened, an orgasm that lasts forever.

On the morning of 4/4/2009, as I was having the word in question permanently inked into my skin, North Korea was launching a nuclear missile towards Japan. Just a test, it crashed into the sea. I wrote on my calendar "4/4/2010 - Eroshima will be complete". You see, it takes 11 months for every cellular structure within the human body to regenerate itself. Every 11 months, we essentially have a brand new body, made up of the new materials we have been assimilating all year long. The ink of a tattoo creates a slight interference in our naturally-occurring bio-electrical field. It is believed that after having remained intact for 11 months, the interference pattern becomes permanent, a theory verified by Russian "experts" of the human aura and their "Kirlian Effect" (Google it, even if you end up thinking its bulls**t, the pictures are still pretty).

So I always wait a full year (11 months + 1 more month for good measure) before accepting a new tattoo as truly being a "part of me", seriously considering the possibility that those words will still be there on my skin (or rather on the astral projection/mental self-image of my skin) after the moment of my physical death.

But what will happen on 4/4/2010, less than three months from now? Will North Korea press on the button again, but not merely as a test this time? Will "Eroshima" come true? Simultaneous nuclear explosions and infinite orgasms for everyone? Nothing at all except another "whisper of Enki" sent to Etemenanki?

But then again, the entire world economy could come crashing down tomorrow (its already over the cliff, playing "Wile E. Coyote"), human civilization as we know it could collapse to the point of making the "Mad Max" movies seem optimistic, and at that point, when people are shooting their neighbors in the head simply to steal the last can of dog food they might have left, I don't think any of us will care what happens in the land of the rising sun. Think happy thoughts. ;)