The Empyrean

Lately I've been listening to John Frusciante's album "The Empyrean", a) because I've been reading interviews with him about the album, which makes it more interesting for me, and also b) because the loose thematic theme seems to tie in well with where I'm at.

As he puts it, the album is all about how giving up and failing ultimately help you reach higher than you would have, until you finally reach "the Empyrean", the highest point in heaven. Along the way, you descend back into madness.

The older I get, the more clearly I'm able to visualize these two states. In other words, there were times when I was in them, but I didn't know what they were. Now they come with all sorts of pictures, tastes, smells, and ideas.

The first part, to me, feels like being in the ground. Now, there's different types of earth. There's warm, rich, loamy soil-- and there's cold, sterile, ground, blasted with radiation or oozing with fetid muck. Sometimes you immerse yourself into the swamp and swim around in the brackish water with the alligators and nematodes. That's all right, it's fertile and organic.

But oh children, I have to tell you, there are places I don't know what they are. This one time I was a hollow person and all this disgusting water kept rushing through me. I was tied to a table by an insect doctor and his lipless nurse. They kept forcing sludge through me in belching waves. The most common occurrence then was when all the skin would slough off me and the only thing that was left was a huge, hollow-eyed bird skull, perched like a plague doctor. Those two black hollow circles are the most persistent symbol.

But that was a while ago. I clambered out of the metallic wastes eventually and found a safe, if unremarkable, plain where I could rest. Eventually, I decided to build a staircase out of my bones and start climbing it.

Now, I've managed, after cracking open my chest many times to pluck out more ribs to make stairs and then growing new ones, to find what I think is a new platform. My eyes are just peeking above the rim of it and I can hardly believe my eyes. I didn't really even believe that such a thing existed. It'll probably take me a while just to adjust to the knowledge of there even being such a place. (I think some people have been on that platform their entire lives, even, maybe). It's a great, white and black tower. Mathematics and clean lines help me build it and it's free from slime and spiderwebs. I've even grown to like climbing and my curiosity to see where it goes is building.

I guess what I wanted to say is: not feeling like a failure is an unbelievably liberating feeling, and I highly recommend it if you haven't tried it yet.