1. Umbilical Specter

    The strandentwining cable of all flesh.  Omphalon.  Childhood memory.  Negative ionic pulsing gentle, virgin, dandruff.  Each delicate, lacy hexagram containing a chant of exorcism: inscribed transformation into the library hours.  A bubble of time, contained, complete, perfect. Ekstasis. The tip of every tongue breathes life into each embedded incantation, an alchemical metamorphosis:  heavenly host, now water.  The land covered in a soft white blanket, under the burning glow of street lamps, clear night’s stars as witness, just for me. An unknown sun rises, stretching its arms through a seeming adiaphane, the grey sky obscuring the horizon, grinding itself into the grey ground.  A bubble of time. 

    Sleep would come like a struggle.  Some nights more than others.  Forcing my eyelids open made them close.  In the dark hypnogogia the bright figure in the corner turns to sinister shadow, approaching.  Pull the covers over my head.  Hot breath on my face.  Like a crack, floor boards forced open.  The sinister messenger grasping with both hands, pulling me down down down.  Never exploring too deeply, always keeping the exit in sight, silver cord dangling in the wind.  Omphalon.  Fear in my youth.
    This messenger would visit when it pleased, leaving a burning mark, indelible wernicke.  Only pulling me as far as the cord grew taught, plucking a low vibration, then a high note, far enough: turn back.  The brand in my brain diffusing heat, pushing blood down my arm, to my hand.  The hand moves itself, the paper fills itself.  Like opening an artery, it must bleed out, then what?  Wait, he’ll come back one of these days.  Not so scary any more.  Dependant.
    The click-clack-gnosis of the train underneath, projected into the exhaustion of a travel’s terminus.  After the bricks stacked and set, who can say what hands touched them?  40 days and 40 nights in the desert without food or water.  A severe privation stretching thin the diaphane.  What do I build?  With these hands, these eyes, this blood?  What comes of it?  Half dead on a hospital bed.  That smell.  A crimson swatch cutting a doorway to somewhere else, traced with my finger.   11 years later, I find myself walking through into unknown territory the cord finally cut. 
    A new country.  New gods, new devils, new good, new evil?  The urge to create linked closely to pain.  My age betrayed through swollen joints, through gritted teeth.  If only I…started earlier…have so much done by now….want to finish…before I die…this story.  Exploring this place.  Before I die, I want to finish exploring this place.  My own little world, intricately detailed, a place to run in misery.  Everything in its place, where I put it.  As a child, my revery.  As an adult, my message


  3. Beelzebub


  4. The second Dragon

    Old challenges rise up.  The same complex interactions that allow for habit and breaking habit, the firing of neuronal sequence, can, sometimes, push old connections and patterns to the surface.  The game seems stacked against having a body in the first place.  What with its two brains.  Old habits die especially hard with a greater number of champions, lying in wait.

    If you look at an image of the human intestine, particularly the small intestine, it bears a striking similarity with its winding, labyrinthine convolutions to the gyri and sulci of the brain.  It comes as no surprise then that this part of the body contains its own, partially separate nervous system.  Although it still receives a great deal of enervation from the CNS it contains its own patterns of learning and development, habit.   These habits and mostly private impulses direct everything from peristaltic rate (through Basal Electrical Rhythm), to secretion of intestinal and stomach juices.  Having a nervous stomach.  Even when the brain’s bravery waits manifest.  Seems like a cruel joke.

    Clearing out the brain’s, and even the body’s,  habits of nervousness and tension may not be enough if there are deeply engrained patterns of illness and violence lurking somewhere beneath the abdomen’s surface.  The gut has a delicate sensitivity, too much of one secretion or too little of another and you get to know the feeling of cool porcelain on cold/hot sweats.  If a body habitually vomits due to some pathogen for a long enough period of time, it will continue to vomit long after the destruction or removal of the violator unless some other intervention occurs.

    The sneak in your head, you do well for years and years, then the smell of hospitals or roses triggers some long dormant pattern of neuronal chaos and you find yourself back where you began or even worse off than you started.  Most of the time, with your brain, its relatively simple to determine what caused the downfall.  Who uses the gut as the primary center of consciousness?

    What factors contribute to the firing of old habit in the gut?  The factors from the CNS can be mitigated consciously and easily enough, but what internal factors contribute?  Textures?  Chemicals?  Without concise consciousness in this vital center this may never be known.  While some say “open this chakral center” that phrase has no real meaning.  Directing awareness in this place seems a simple solution for experiment.  Awareness will accrete where the breath directs, does a sentient sensation follow or does the mind, as usual, play tricks?

    The vagus nerve, so called due to its wandering, like a vagabond, down from the brain to the heart and to the gut.  Due to its location and structure it contributes signals to heart rate and the perstaltic, digestive, movements of the gut, all this from the brain.  The vagus nerve passes through the diaphragm, the primary muscle of respiration.  Ideally, and with training, breathing occurs almost solely through this mighty pump.  As this muscle rises and expands laterally, sensory portions of the vagus nerve receive stimulation.  When this stimulation reaches threshold, the nerve sends information about respiration rate to the brain.  Slow and deep, and the brain begins to turn on the parasympathetic circuits eventually triggering a rest and relax response, slowing heart rate (remember the vagus nerve enervates the heart?) and easing peristalsis.

    While this may not cure a closed system gut freak out, remember that in this battle, you have powerful allies within your own body.



  6. 3 pages left, and the cover to be finished.  So close now, so close.  I’m hoping that keeping this stuff close instead of showing it is worth it because I want you to know that it has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.


  7. Oh hello there.  It’s 7.30 am on a Sunday, EST.  I’m working on this kickstarter thing probably all day today.  Almost done with the video, working on the reward tree (which is a very complicated thing and much more complicated than I thought).  Prepping some files for print, and hopefully finishing this page I’m working on.  


  8. Cover pencils. I draw covers on crescent 102 hot press. Stuff is so thick you could bounce a knife off it without making a mark.

    You can lay a ton of water on it and never have to surf.


  9. Portrait of Genesis P. Orridge for warms ups


  10. Preview of Page 18 of Bright Spiral issue 2.

    Some terms:

    Siddhi: perfection.  I chose to use the singular ‘siddhi’ to refer to a specific finishing point of a yoga practice.  The plural ‘siddhis’ usually refers to strange powers that are gained upon the completion of a practice (in this case the word for practice is ‘sadhana’ which translates to something like “the means to accomplish something”). 

    Kalpa: a really long time, an aeon.

    I’m getting close to the end of this issue, and I’m getting really excited to get this one out there.  I’ve just started to work out a kickstarter campaign that I’ll be launching at the beginning of next month so I can get some books into people’s hands and take them around with me to conventions.  You will be rewarded.


  11. coming along it is.

    (Source: brightlyreblo)


  12. There’s my name way down on the list.  Myself and grixly will be pushing pencils behind a table at Baltimore Comic Con this year.  Sept. 5-7.  If you can make it I’d love to see you there.


  13. (Source: brightlyreblo)


  14. Preview of the final page of Bright Spiral issue 2  

    This page loosely corresponds, in a fit of apophenia anyway, to the final page of the first issue.  

    Still ~5 pages away from the end here.  Getting excited.