Cherry Noir Blog by feste
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feste's blog: "Cherry Noir"

created on 05/16/2007  |
And then they changed course, building the shrines and theaters of the wine god far away from the cities, deep in the swamps of maenad frenzy. They relieved the women of their tragic duty, the red scream of birth and tearing off of heads, replacing them with mean bearing phalloi singing lewd and raucous of the time just after maiden grief, that winter month of fermentation when the first flush hits the brain with wallops of profane joy. Stroll out the ass-men with their stoutly-sodden staffs waving at the heavens with the lowest majesty sex affords, the sacred reduction of the civilized man into all his laughable laments as he blunders in his stinking swamp. Heís led by the nose of his pickled pompous hose, taking every curse and abuse like a pilgrim in reverse, going down where wings should fly. Behold the son of gods in his cups, a donkey braying to our bucolic jeers the grand humility of which we are so comically in arrears. Well, itís just a tenth part of the god who will eventually roar forth from kraters up from the vale of song and tears -- perhaps all we humanly can hold before the wine casts us into such tragic figurines. Three feet separate tragic ends from their comic origins, those three inches of the divine we have to wave in sophomoric, dirty jest before the women get it all back anyway and tear it up for love and the gods come in to batten on the feast.
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