Ah! j’en ai trop pris: – Mais, cher Satan, je vous en conjure, une prunelle moins irritee! et en attendant les quelques petites Iachetes en retard, vous qui aimez dans 1’ecrivain 1’absence des facultes descriptives on instructives, je vous detache ces quelques hideux feuillets de mon carnet de damne.
– Arthur Rimbaud. A Season in Hell
The real struggle is with the duende…. To help us seek the duende there is neither map nor discipline. All one knows is that it burns the blood like powdered glass, that it exhausts, that it rejects all the sweet geometry one has learned, that it breaks with all styles….These dark sounds are the mystery, the roots thrusting into the fertile loam known to all of us, ignored by all of us, but from which we get what is real in art. . . .”
– Frederico Garcia Lorca
Steven Craig Hickman, poet and writer of weird tales and horror, speculator of our strange days, exploring the labyrinths within which we all live and have our being seeking answers to the darkest impulses which move humanity. Growing up in Northern Louisiana and West Texas as a child I moved between differing worlds and social climates which have affected my life into adulthood. Having immersed myself in the cultures of German, French, Spanish and Anglo-Saxon that commingled in my family along with certain of the native Indian populations – myself having married a woman of the Ogallala Lakota tribes I became enamored of history and the ancient ways of both my ancestors of these various worlds and cultures spread across time and memory. I feel a deep closeness to both wilderness and the native peoples of the earth, not only of the Americas but of all indigenous lands of the world. They are our lifeline and songlines to the a past that is slowly being lost in this vast encrustation of artificial modernity that has for two-hundred years assumed wrongly that it could surpass the living heritage of our planetary cultures. The amnesia of our species in regard to its own past is worse than the terror of political and social consequence. If we lose our memory we lose our humanity. Period.
Worked as a Master Sous-Chef for years in Denver, Colorado with Pierre Wolfe at the Quorum till my lovely wife died of cancer at too young of an age. Tired of having worked 60 hour weeks for so long, and having missed out on so much time with her I decided to re-invent myself during the early 90’s as the beginnings of the Internet geared itself up. Being an auto-didact at heart I taught myself software engineering from the ground up. Worked with various start-up’s and Tech giants like Rational Software, Nokia Mobile Phones, Sterling Software, and others till I branched off and became an Independent Contractor traveling across the U.S.A. and overseas on various assignments till I finally retired in 2012.
I take an interest in all things: travel, write, love, and most of all ponder the mysteries of existence. I believe we are at a distinct boundary zone in our existence on earth, a time wherein our oceanic world traveling amid the voids of being is undergoing a transition both terrible and wondrous, and we have a responsibility to ourselves and to those non-human others we share this planet with to begin collaborating both locally and globally in the creation of a sustainable existence worth living. Ecologically, politically, socially, and economically we must work together in devising alternative visions and forms of governance and livingness, forms of egalitarian and democratic and communitarian societies; for both human and non-human alike.
Darkness and its relation as matter-energy, as process and mattering, as explored within the sciences and arts is central to my vision: physics, astronomy, ecology, mysticism, speculative realism, psychoanalysis and literature, and politics. As a conceptual framework, noir materialism engages with mattering at the thresholds of its extinction and enfoldment beyond the topographies of a ‘base or libidinal materialism’, and at the very edges of forms of thought wherein objects, things, and spaces of reason on which it depends exert their independence.
Georges Bataille’s ‘libidinal or base materialism’, shape an aspect of my own noirish and fantastic realism: thematically ‘psychoanalytic’, methodologically “genealogical, diagnostic, and enthusiastic for the accentuation of intensity that will carry it through insurrection into anegoic delirium. Stylistically it is aggressive, only a little sub hyperbolic, and—above all—massively irresponsible…” (TA: 14). A voyager in dissolution, a decadent hyperpilot of a psychedelic finitude, a scientist of strange days he tells us that no “one could ever ‘be’ a libidinal materialist. This is a ‘doctrine’ that can only be suffered as an abomination, a jangling of the nerves, a combustion of articulate reason, and a nauseating rage of thought. It is a hyperlepsy of the central nervous-system, ruining the body’s adaptive regimes, and consuming its reserves in rhythmic convulsions that are not only futile, but devastating” (TA: 14).
Yet, within the interstices of my vision lie those old time materialists and new alike: Lucretius, Spinoza, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Freud, Lacan, Bataille, Cioran, Foucault, Deleuze & Guattari and Nick Land; as well as those others that have marked certain passages in the being and events of our age: Heidegger, Whitehead, Analytical and Continental thought and praxis, and those who escape under a dark blood moon to ride the black daemon of the duende inhabit the interstices of my vision: poets and authors of the mad and rabid nihilistic tracts, communist and socialist, anarchist and social libertarians, and fringe thinkers with that spark which lights the fire of mind. Within this blog will be an acknowledgement of a revolutionary materialism that seeks the emancipatory vision of human and non-human alike through poetry and essay.
Also I must admit a fondness for that quirky poetry criticism of Harold Bloom, even if I disagree with him at times on his strange adherence to certain political and social ideas with which he is little capable of registering much less sounding an opinion on. But his mythology of the ephebe, of influence, of a sort of secular gnosis that ties us to an alien aspect of our own being that is confronted with a certain impossible possible at the heart of existence intrigues me. This is why such poets as Rimbaud and others who have pushed the limits of the mind to its end points hold me; as in Hart Crane whose magnificent hyperbolic poems still mesmerize me, but to which I myself do not aspire in the form of transcendence that he hoped to attain. Instead I want to remain here with our darkness, with the modes of our darker gnosis, with the kingdoms of strangeness around us that we continually obfuscate and deny. At the heart of reality is a core darkness as well as light, a light that is itself almost to horrible to bare. We have yet to understand or even enter into this darker lair of timespace where the realms of darkmatter and darkspace inhabit the non-material planes beyond the matter we know of as the Universe. Scientists only surmise it from models and mathematics that describes what our instruments cannot. But this means we are still a very open universe that has many problems and issues, and an uncharted mapping of being that has of yet not even entered the poetry of our age. We need new mythologies, scientific ones that will assume new forms and poetic statements to attune us toward such futurities as are coming our way.
Like that old nihilist of desire, Emile Cioran: “The approach of disgust, of that sensation which physiologically separates us from the world, shows how destructible is the solidity of our instincts or the consistency of our attachments. In health, our flesh echoes the universal pulsation and our blood reproduces its cadence; in disgust, which lies in potential hell in order to suddenly seize upon us afterwards, we are isolated in the whole as a monster imagined by some tetratology of solitude”. Out of this disgust the renegade philosopher must “invent another genre of solitude, expatriate himself in the void, and pursue – by one exile after another – the stages of uprootedness”. Homeless and solitary, set adrift within the incommensurable incongruities of these unreal political dystopian worlds that dominate our current global civilization the new philosopher moves toward a post-humanism without regret: “The human adventure will certainly come to an end… we need only look at man in the face to detach ourselves from him… Thousands of years of sufferings, which would have softened the hearts of stones, merely petrified this steely mayfly, monstrous example of evanescence and hardening, driven by one insipid madness, a will to exist…”
“Metaphysical revelations begin only when one’s superficial equilibrium starts to totter…”
– E.M. Cioran“…the consolation of horror in art is that it actually intensifies our panic, loudens it on the sounding-board of our horror-hollowed hearts, turns terror up full blast, all the while reaching for that perfect and deafening amplitude at which we may dance to the bizarre music of our own misery.”
– Thomas Ligotti“When early youth had passed, he left
His cold fireside and alienated home
To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands.”
– Alastor, Percy Bysshe Shelley
Hegel once told us that the “aim of knowledge is to divest the objective world of its strangeness and to make us more at home in it.” But what if the opposite were true that the real aim of knowledge is to invest the objective world with abject strangeness and to alter our mode within it as pure homelessness?
Homeless voids roam the empty abyss of this universe licking up light from the swirls of galactic clusters surging round the infinite drift of dust and stars; black holes like the gods of some delusionary dream shuffle among the broken quasars seeking out the dark filaments of superfluous suns, each cannibalizing the light of a thousand civilizations on the edge of cosmic nothingness.
We all live like haunted specters on a dead planet full of bones and ashes, each wandering in the erotic tribulation of a nervous thought that can never find its way back home; guided by the Lamentation of a melancholic despair we drift lethargically toward the interminable finitude that is. Renouncing all hope of ever regaining that frozen paradise of fire and ice from which we fell into this funerial world we wander among its dark chemistry seeking out a Vulcan science to explain the hidden order of its black life and the broken symmetry of its amor fati. Exiled from our true home we wander forever between desolate voids like misguided children haunting a deranged landscape of jungle and mountain and snowbound chaos: seeking in each other’s gaze the nacreous light of that original corruption which first gave us this blasted world; and, like fallen angels who have lost their wings, we have fallen into each other’s dream hoping to awaken that darkening spark that once lit the cosmic firestorm of all being.
Happy Holidays!
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Thank you so much for understanding. It’s all a bit troubling.
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I cannot thank you enough for your generosity, Steve. You are a good person and it will all come back to you ten fold. Thank you, thank you. Please let me know if you ever need anything.
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As the old cliché goes, brother, just pass it on… I am what I am that I am… can’t be otherwise 🙂
Can’t wait to see your novel come out!
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I have many thoughts on your perspective – forgive me while I sort them out – I wouldn’t want to make a poor first impression 🙂 In response to your comment, I thought of my perspective on memories….
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Nice site. Poetry is great! I’ll be back to read more. Thanks for visiting.
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Thank you for dropping by… 🙂
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Anne? Who’s Anne? Maybe you have the wrong blog?
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Hey Anne!!! I’ve enjoy your blog a lot and it inspires me to blog more so I’ve nominated you for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award. See here: http://keeppicturing.wordpress.com/2014/08/07/very-inspiring-blogger/
Congrats and keep bloggin…:)
-Keep Picturing..:)
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Hey Steven!!! I’ve enjoy your blog a lot and it inspires me to blog more so I’ve nominated you for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award. See here: http://keeppicturing.wordpress.com/2014/08/07/very-inspiring-blogger/
Congrats and keep bloggin…:)
-Keep Picturing..:)
Sorry I made mistake…:(
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Oh, ok… thanks! I’ll check it out 😉
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🙂
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Remarkable about .Wishing you the best.Thank you for visiting my blog.
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Likewise 🙂
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Hi there Mr. Hickman, nice finally meeting you. Know that my wordpress seems to be running at a normal pace I can finally start reading people.
What an interesting man you are, and what a knowledge you have.
So you´re sort off enamoured with things related to Spanish, well I´m from Spain, we did have a little hiccup called the inquisition but I promise it wasn´t my fault.
Very very interesting you about page, so can´t wait now to read some of your things. Glad you stopped by my nutty blog.
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Good to me you Charly!
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I´m as transparent as a book, people already know me, what are you talking about…I think I suffer from a condition called “shameless”……..or nuts. Who knows 🙂 see? a creepy yellow face.
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Oh, it’s early I meant …. Good to meet you, Charly! haha … I left out “et” … I’m dyslexic and sometimes have to slow down when writing, have a tendency to leave letters out, or even add letters.
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add letters….that´s a gift, greeeeat writingg you doo
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merci beaucoup for the trail of warmth and ecstasy in your verses and in the comments you have left in mine. Big, big fan 🙂
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🙂 glad you’ve enjoyed!
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You are a very eclectic individual and it shows in your work! I enjoyed your “about” very much and have enjoyed other of your work as well!
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I’m glad! 🙂
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Thank you for following my blog.
I love your site, it is a pandora’s box of wonder. Unfortunately my Alzheimer’s does not allow me to read in depth longer pieces without struggling to understand it. You will have to forgive me for taking smaller parts and devouring them without the whole as it takes me back to the days when I could.
This is such a delight to dip into long forgotten ideas.
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Oh, absolutely, take your time. I have recently been adding voice to my new work and plan on going back someday to my older poems and adding voice. That might help 🙂 I’m 62 myself and have the usual blood pressure, cusp of diabetes, other hereditary ailments, etc., but we keep on keeping on and a smile above the waters. 🙂
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Thnak you so much for your interest and for following me. I am truly flatered and impressed by your work. I humbly hope I will be up to your expectancies. I’m afraid my English isn’t as good as my French so pardon the beasics mistakes I someimes do without knowing. I wrote ”Mourning Sun’ in English and Jeanne Dark is the beginning of a long term project in French. Si tu veux pratiquer le Francais avec moi j’en serai ravi. I could talk to you in English and you would answer in French. or we could write both in French if you wish. TY again for your interest and keep up your amazing work here. Tobe (or not To BE?)
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You’re a phenomenal writer. Very well rounded. To say that you love detail, is an understatement.
It’s obvious you’re seasoned with the good stuff.
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Thank you, Nezra… you, too, have that keen wisdom, and the mind that is quick and full of wit. I love reading your works, too! They speak out of your inner being, and that’s all that counts in my book. 🙂
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Oh, and I meant Jasmine 🙂 dang… haha
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Brilliant blog! Truly inspiring 🙂
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I love your blog, so I nominated you for the One Lovely Blog Award! 🙂 Details here: http://stepstimestwo.wordpress.com/2014/10/13/the-one-lovely-blog-award/
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Oh, thanks! haha … I received that award a few months back, but appreciate your kindness 🙂
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Mr. Hickman,
Please put together a collection of your best essays into a book (paperback) at some point. You are an exceptional writer, intellectual, and “antagonizer.”
Thank you.
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Haha… thanks, Joseph… yea, I’m working on it. 🙂
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Well, work faster (kidding, just joking 🙂 ).
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