Having my way with Ulysses

From inexistence to existence he came to many and was as one received: existence with existence he was with any as any with any: from existence to nonexistence gone he would be by all as none perceived.

Thanks eversore much, Pointcarried!
2:00 am

Sit down and take a walk with me, won’t you? I’m remodling my treehouse, getting extravagant. Hyperbolic space simply has more room than Euclidean, so you can’t really blame me. Shall we parallel? You’ll have to project yourself over here, honey, steriographically. Form a point, there you go. Now circle that square; I’ll give you a hand. Pivot. Pivot. Mind the möbius transformation! Oh whacked your head right on it: sorry about that, it was in a different place yesterday. There you go and square the circle. That’s better! Now shall we be asymptotic or ultraparallel? I know, six of one. Though it does seem the older I get the fewer I know.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Because he had forgotten and because he remembered that he had reminded himself twice not to forget.

The calendar is intolerable to all wisdom, the horror of all astronomy, and a laughingstock from a mathematician's point of view. 2:01 am

I have devised a stratagem. I cannot wait to tell you because it will be our entry key to a great high mystery the secret of which is found in, oh but shall I jump right in and tell you? To tell or not to tell. Oh where to begin. I must do this properly as my secret is so momentous, so illuminating. Now please quiet down, quiet down. Oh where to begin. Today, on this historic occasion, the feast day of dear Saint Martin I, pope and martyr and sufferer of dysentery (hang in there Marty!) this feast day of Saint Nilus the Elder not the younger who after the birth of his children desperately needed alone time and hey haven’t we all been there, on this feast day of Saint Emilian Cucullatus another of your hermit types, this glorious feast day of Saint Machar Irish emigree to Scotland, so there’s that then, so many memories, so many memories, and let me see, can’t forget old Saint Cunibert today on his feast day who did something or other I cannot recall, and this is feast day of Saint Cumian the Tall good god, how many saints are there? Today, as I said historic occasion, this grand feast day of Saint Livinus head cut off by somebody from the opposite camp, Saint Liafwine, English from Ripon, declared all gods dead but his, and let us not forget Saint Benedict’s day today, murdered by thieves. What’s a monk going to have that thieves want? To murder or not to murder? To steal or not to steal? Today is the feast day also of Saint Anastasius, or is it Astrik? Who remembers? And don’t forget dear Saint Rainerius of Arezzo, what a miracle worker he turned out to be. Today is also St John Della Pace’s feast day, a married hermit somehow, and the feast day of Saint Gabriel of Ancona who had a glorious account of his life drawn up but nobody can remember where to find it. Have you seen it? To look or not to look. And of course this is the feast day of Saint L. Ron Hubbard of the Church of the SubGenius.

Oh I have something big to announce. As we gather here on this the twelfth day of November of the year two thousand and twelve of the common era in the Gregorian calendar counting from the year zero, and for the Julians among us who possess quite a fine calendrical system despite its lacking a year zero we gather here on this the thirtieth day of October in the year two thousand and twelve on a day beginning at midnight. For you astronomers today’s Julian day is 2456243.5 and for you amateur astronomers it is 56243. You both get to start your day at the crack of noon, so that’s quite nice for you then. Ah, sholem aleykhem it is so good to see you all here this twenty seventh day of Heshvan Five thousand seven hundred and seventy three. Mazol tov on that lunar accuracy. To speak of the sun or to speak not of the sun? If you want to be precise, solarly speaking, then we gather here today on this fine Doshanbeh, this glorious twenty second day of Aban of the year one thousand three hundred and ninety one of the Persian calendar but no matter, no matter. Not when This is long count 12.19.19.16.1 1 Calli 1 Tecpatl 4 Cipactli Meztli 18 Cuauhuitlehua. Oh wait, my mistake. That’s Aztec! The Mayans have it as long count 12.19.19.16.1 4 Ceh 4 Imix! Whew! For a minute there things looked a little improved, at least for those of you linearists trying to square the Mayan calendar’s circle. Oh dear, I’ve offended some of you. Please don’t leave. Oh dear. Well, now, there are a few seats for those of you standing in the back! So there’s that then. Yes, where were we. To announce or not to announce? Today, friends we gather here on this Bahá’í Era Day 61598 Perfection, the third day of the week Asthma  (Names,9) of Qudrat (Power) 169BE, 169/13/9 and the tenth Vahid of the first Kull-i-Shay, so Alláh’u’Abhá! and a hearty Assalamu Alilkum Wa Rahmatulah Wa Barakatuh on this Saturday the twenty eighth of Dhu al-Hijjah, 1433 Anno Hegirae. Such a momentous day this fine Sunday November eighth, two thousand and twelve of the International Fixed Calendar; this Monday the twelfth of November 0072 in the year of hafnium in the New Science Calendar. And on this Sunday, Frederic ninth, two hundred and twenty four of the Positivist calendar we gather to hear such a momentous secret I shall tell only to you, on this Sunday of the Yew Moon twenty eighth, of the Moonwise year two thousand and twelve, and a fine Wednesday it is too this 2012 D-54 of the World Season calendar. Did I say Wednesday? I meant Somavara, the twenty first day of Kartika of the year one thousand nine hundred and thirty four of the Indian civil calendar. But for many of you this isn’t a work day, so. No. Today is indeed (to tell or not to tell!) for on this beautiful pre-dawn day one of week forty six of the year two thousand and twelve and day three hundred and seventeen of the same year of the ISO-861 Week and Day and Day of Year Calendar, this Unix time() value 1352678400, this momentous Excel Serial Day number 41225 (39763 for Macintosh), this Sweetmorn day 24 of The Aftermath, YOLD 3178 (augur) of the Discordian calendar, La Prime 1-364-298 of the Galactic Milieu calendar, this Monday Kali 29, 551 (5-0551-11-29) of the Goddess Lunar Calendar and isn’t she looking fine today with that tongue sticking right out there. Yes. Such a good feeling on this, ah, this, ah Onesday, eleven 8, 2012 of the Human calendar, though I’d rather get a good feeling of a little goddess. So difficult to remember. You are devastating. Ah yes. I feel a little sidetracked, a little houri. To remember or not to remember.  Oh my she does look so very blue today this Egyptian Coptic fourth day of Athor, 1729 or is it Hator. Coptic. Ethiopian? Hidar, 4, 2005. Um. What was I saying. To remember or not to remember this Earthday, the third of Aphrodite, 20 of the Millennium Mars Calendar. Aphrodite. Well, now, three’s company. My dear people, gods, goddesses if I can ask you to wait for me in the green room, I regret I must delay my announcement until cycle 78 year 29 (Ren Chen, Dragon) month 9 (Xin Hai, pig or is it Geng Xu? I forget and who cares, two goddesses!) day thirty 4710. Indeed, all things considering, this can wait until The Aftermath 23, CUW of the Jusanotoronian calendar, or rather ruz of Ashtad, mah, Avan 1381 as my dear friend Zarathustra puts it, did you know he invented calendar reckoning? I wonder if Kali knows that? Kali? Aphrodite? Wait for me girls, did you ladies know that today being the

One Response to Because he had forgotten and because he remembered that he had reminded himself twice not to forget.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Releasing the potential energy contained in the fuel by allowing its carbon and hydrogen elements to enter into free union with the oxygen of the air.

Then it seemed to me it rotated a little, then terrible as lightning she descended and snatched me upward into the fire. Therein it seemed that she and I were burning; and this imagined burning so scorched me that my sleep was broken. 2:03 am

Give me four minutes, and you’ll have your fire.  There is an art in lighting a fire, and attention to how you make ready the place of sacrifice should be the true object of any creator: that is one of the secrets. The beauty of any holocaust, no matter how slight your agenbite of inwit, must always be within the purification of your own intent. That’s where we will find beauty. I said we. There’s creation. There’s union. So what is it we are burning today? What did you bring?

6 Responses to Releasing the potential energy contained in the fuel by allowing its carbon and hydrogen elements to enter into free union with the oxygen of the air.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Hating partial contact by immersion or total by submersion.

As he tried to quench his thirst, inside him, deep within him, another thirst was growing, for he saw an image in the pool, and fell in love with that unbodied hope, and found a substance in what was only shadow.2:04 am

Hello and good morning ladies, gentlemen. Welcome newcomers, I see we have quite a few newbies with us today. If you are here for the cynophobia group your room is across the hall, and as I see some of you are here for the vestiphobia group, I am so sorry, the schedule has changed and you’ll find that you now meet on the third Sunday of each month. Check your email. Ok. Spread out please, there is no reason anybody must sit uncomfortably close to anybody else. If you feel secure in proximity to the aqueous substance of glass please take a seat near the windows so we can free up space next to the wall for those who need those seats. Also, feel free to open windows to let in some fresh, yes, the window sticks just give it a good, there you go. That’s better. Right. So. Please be aware that there is a gym with showers on the third floor of the building, but we will have no reason to go up there or even to leave this room. There is a drinking fountain in the hallway, about fifteen feet to the right of our door near the main exit, but it is quite possible to exit the building by turning left and going down the back stairs. Outside that door you will find no running water of any kind, no stream, no swimming pool, and the downspout from the roof gutter has been relocated to around the south corner of the building and away from any sight lines. Just be sure to turn north and then walk around the building clockwise to get to the south parking garage. Now, there is a water feature in the park across the street, but we have planted shrubs which block your view of it, but you still might want to know it is there. I don’t think you will be able to hear too much splashing or trickling but if you do just remember that the absence of the sight of the fountain will disturb you less than the presence of noise. Ok? Yes, you have your hand up? No. No no, we do not allow liquids of any kind in this room. This is a safe space. If you do feel thirsty, we can have a member of staff give you a lidded beverage with a straw you can drink in the hallway, or you can have somebody accompany you to the drinking fountain. Oh! I almost forgot. We have had the sinks removed in the lavatories on this floor. Ok? So. Last time we all made such great progress imagining water’s universality: its democratic equality and constancy to its nature in seeking its own level. Today I thought we’d consider water’s ubiquity as constituting 90% of the human body, so if you’ll look under your chairs you’ll find a hand mirror. Everybody ready?

One Response to Hating partial contact by immersion or total by submersion.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The difficulties of interpretation.

A small cronopio was looking for the key to the street door on the night table, the night table in the bedroom, the bedroom in the house, the house in the street. Here the cronopio paused, for to go into the street, he needed the key to the door.2:06 am

First it happens, then it means something. Rarely, the bolt of lightning will hit one directly (perhaps from a forty five degree angle like a shot off a shovel) and there within the simultaneity of the electrical discharge and the acoustic report you know as it’s going down that this now this is it is this moment (this very instant) that means already in advance and simultaneously what it will come to mean. But really what are the odds of an event and its significance occurring simultaneously? We can’t know all the conditions so there must be some sort of calculable probability. Twenty to one? And this is assuming of course that there is indeed such a thing as simultaneity, but this is no time for parlor games. There is no simultaneity, event and meaning intersect only with lovers, and there is no free will. Oh yes, also: do not risk, do not expect, do not be disappointed, be satisfied, sustain no positive loss, bring positive gain to others. Now, finish carving that on the tablet, make a duplicate to use as light to the gentiles, and bear it down the mountains in your arms, the secret of the race, graven in the language of prediction.

One Response to The difficulties of interpretation.

  1. I will have you know that not only did I read, as usual–though sometimes hours after it comes in; I know what frame of mind Ineed to be in to read your ‘stuff.’ But I copied it and pasted it in Times New Roman type at 22 and printed it off to hang on my board. Though I need to think about the lovers thing.>KB

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

For the solution of difficult problems in imaginary or real life.

These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, they do not point on me. 2:07 am

Now, the best answer to any problem, not to be too woo woo about it, is to let the universe decide, or rather, leave it up to the universe to tell you the best path.  The choice is yours, you have free will as far as I can see. You do. You have lots of it. But it can help, or at least it can’t possible hurt to gain a little advice from a power greater than ourselves.  So come on, do you have cold feet about the cosmos or are you with me?  Now. Hold the hand mirror in the proper position and imagine any problem you might be having.  A matter of the heart maybe, or a financial problem.  Perhaps another person is sleeping with your beloved. Or maybe you can’t decide how much cream to put into your cocoa.  It can be anything, just hold your question in your mind with clear intent and allow me to practice sortes Shakespearianae on your behalf.  I am using a leatherbound Shakespeare complete, 1926, kept carefully upright and once owned by Guare Swofr Jr. from what I can make out of his or her appallingly illegible signature.  Ready? We ask the blessed universal oneness to grant us clarity and insight and guide our hand to the correct place for enlightenment. The answer to your problem is:

Shame and confusion! all is on the rout; Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds where it should guard.

That’s from the second part of King Henry VI, act 5, scene 2, spoken by Young Clifford.  Tell you anything?  Tells me you should maybe avoid the cocoa and stick with water.  And somebody is definitely sleeping with your beloved. Oh dear. You look terrible.  Do over! Let’s do it again.  This time we’ll try sortes Biblicae. I have a nicely dogeared copy of the bible inscribed To Mike. From: Robbie Nelson.  The copyright page has been torn out. Ready? We ask the universe with full hearts and clear heads for the answer to our questions and your solution is:

Nebuchadnezzar the king made an image of gold, whose height was threescore cubits, and the breadth thereof six cubits.

Pretty! Book of Daniel 3:1, so I’d say pour the cream! Not sure what this says about your other problems though.  Perhaps you should find a nice golden idol to worship?  Or craft one of your own?  Maybe we should try again. The universe is never wrong, you understand, it does sometimes want clarification. How about sortes Cortazarae? In times of confusion I often turn to, yes, where is it now? Where? Green book, paperback, yellow piece of paper with chapter numbers and checkmarks marking chapter 110. Here! Ready? Now, we ask the universe and so on and so forth:

137
MORELLIANA
If the volume or the tone of the work can lead one to believe that the author is attempting a sum, hasten to point out to him that he is face to face with the opposite attempt, that of an implacable subtraction.

So you see! So use mathematics and start subtracting: lay off cocoa and dump your lover. Can’t get a clearer answer than that.

One Response to For the solution of difficult problems in imaginary or real life.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Separating forces.

A god limited in his omniscience and of his acts, and creating things that lead to horror. He is a . . . sick god, whose ambitions exceed his powers and who does not realize it at first. A god who has created systems or mechanisms that served specific ends but have now overstepped and betrayed them. And he has created eternity, which was to have measured his power, and which measures his unending defeat.2:09 am

Anagrams of names: Uslessly wishy-washy, smug vanity. Try this one on, as kinetic poetry it will invoke either desire or loathing:

Nova coin tinker,
(Akin to conniver!)
Can’t invoke iron?
Crave ion, not ink:
A rock invention.

See? Feel it? That ain’t desire. Shall we try for something more esthetic? Something static, that we might arrest our minds (put a pin in that!) just enough to feel ourselves freely rising above desire and loathing without fear of floating away. Words that say you are mine, the world is mine.

You are mine. The world is mine.
The world is mined. You are mined.
You are mind. The world is mind.

Too Stanislaw Lem? Perhaps we should stick to mental poetry, otherwise we are not gods but tinkers.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The proportion increasing and the disparity diminishing.

Under the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of almost unbearable brightness. At first I thought it was spinning; then I realized that the movement was an illusion produced by the dizzying spectacles inside it. The Aleph was probably two or three centimeters in diameter, but universal space was contained inside it, with no diminution in size.Holy Mother Public Relations, Inc.

10th Heaven
Empyrean

Meeting Minutes

Date: November 18
Time: 2:11 am
Location: 10th Heaven conference room C, Empyrean building
Purpose: Commission of a sculpture of the Immaculate Conception

Attendees:

The Virgin Mary, Holy Virgin of Virgins, Mother Most Pure, Mother Most Chaste, Mother Inviolate, Mother Undefiled, Virgin Most Prudent, Virgin Most Venerable, Virgin Most Renowned, Virgin Most Powerful, Virgin Most Merciful, Virgin Most Faithful, Queen of Virgins, Queen Who has Never Known the Touch of Man. Never. Also, Martha, Jesus, and Gabriel.

Agenda:

1. Discuss the commission of a hyperrealistic sculpture of the Immaculate Conception to be created by Martha, a woman of no independent means, currently residing in the third floor copy room of the Empyrean building, Holy Mother Public Relations.

2. Get Martha off our hands. No offense Martha.

Discussion:

1. With this sculpture Mary wants to express in the most more-than-realistic way possible, the experience she felt deep within her body, a pounding fullness of infinite size deep within her most finite space burning hot and dripping wet. Mary very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity, expressed her gratitude to Gabriel for delivering God’s message with such gratifying skill and finesse. Gabriel expressed to Mary that the pleasure was all his and indeed, worth repeating. Martha suggested Mary and Gabriel get a room.

2. Jesus proposed adjourning the meeting. And also, if God is an intelligible sphere whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere, the moment Mom had knowledge of Dad might be expressed as an inscribed polygon within the sphere that grows more like a circle the more angles it has. Yet even though the multiplication of its angles be infinite, nothing will make the polygon equal the sphere unless the polygon is resolved into identity with the sphere. Martha asked so now she’s expected to enclose infinity within a finite space. It was really more of a statement than a question. Mary said yes, square the circle.

3. Jesus stated that the whole problem in planning an end of the world (particularly the end of history) sculpture, is that you have to speak of what lies beyond the end and also, at the same time, of the impossibility of ending.

Action Items:

1. Gabriel suggested he could provide Martha with an Immaculate Conception demonstration. Martha declined. Mary said Martha really should reconsider.

2. Mary stated the sculpture should be ready for the perceived if not actual cessation of the existence of temporality currently scheduled for this coming December 21st, though the date might be fudged a little.

3. Joseph will check Mary’s schedule and compile a list of possible alternate dates for the annihilation of the world and consequent extermination of the human species, inevitable but impredictable.

4. Joseph to check with Cassandra’s assistant: see when we can schedule a prediction on that.

4. Because Jesus is so damn linear, he will provide us with an end of the world, despite mathematical appearances that there will be no end because we are already in an excess of ends: the transfinite. And in an exceeding of finalities: transfinality.

5. Mary wants the sculpture to be both fascinating and spiritually enthralling, and as we have no vision of final conditions, it must portray an image of negative destiny in a kind of a retrospective arrangement. Also, Mary wishes to see herself as others see her.

6. Martha requires the following materials: two brushes (one green one maroon) and one thousand one hundred thirty two sheets of tissue paper.

Minutes typed by: Joseph
Approved by: Mary, Virgin and CEO

2 Responses to The proportion increasing and the disparity diminishing.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Fluxuating incertitude.

Nothing can be created from nothing.2:12 am

Two monoideal lovers (unrequited): the scientific, the artistic, reduced to their simple reciprocal form. Neither openly alludes to their idea for fear of not hearing that triliteral end-all-doubt word. Neither openly alludes to their idea for fear of hearing that triliteral end-all doubt word. Not to mention the biliteral word is worse, so nobody wants to hear that. Two temperaments: the scientific, the artistic, each believing themselves unable to arrest involuntary attention, unable to interest, unable to convince. They have both decided of the infinite possibilities available to them, their choice is to wait. Wait it out. A Mexican standoff. Can I say that? A scientific artistic Mexicanistic standoff. Yeah I said it. They stand close. They can see the whites of their eyes. One of them whistles (to appear casual). This casual appearance dismays the other one who also appears casual which dismays the first one. The scientific makes the first move plenty, but this time the potentiality of not hearing that triliteral end-all-doubt word would mean, let’s just say: it’s not nothing. A move falls beyond the scientific’s courage. The artistic has a different reason for holding back. Something about being noble. Who the hell knows. What are the scientific’s thoughts about the artistic’s thoughts about the scientific and about the artistic’s thoughts about the scientific’s thoughts about the artistic? The scientific thinks that the artistic thinks that the scientific loves whereas the artistic knows that the scientific knows that the artistic knows that the scientific does not love.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel. Queen’s Ho . . .

As the scribes will persist, the few readers there are in the world are going to have to change their roles and become scribes themselves.2:14 am

He took me to the most beautiful hotel in the city. Historic. Stunning suite. Honeymoon suite: one king sized bed. I had put him off for a long time, knowing he was wife hunting. He was twice my age: I was no wife. I will be no wife. I can’t even call myself anybody’s girlfriend.  I’m focusing on something else, I’d say. You can sleep with me but that’s it kind of thing. I know what I want (I don’t know) and I know who I want (yes, I know). Who I want hasn’t happened and doesn’t look likely. What I want (the want I know I want in addition to the who I want) is experience. I want an interesting life. That’s what I want above all else so yes I said yes I will, yes. I’ll fly there. Fly me there. I’ll fly there and spend the weekend with you I said, but I’m not having sex with you. We’re not having sex. I told him straight up. I want my own room. I know I am easy but I am no whore. Of course, he said. He said of course. What of course? Of course. I let it slide. Get the ticket and I’m not missing any work. We’ll have fun, he said. I’ll take you here, I’ll show you this, we’ll do that. It will be like a normal first date and no sex. Who says a normal first date means no sex? With the one I want we would have sex and no date, so don’t give me normal first date. Don’t give me normal I don’t say. I go. I’m spotted in the airport by a co-worker. I lie. Going to see a friend in that direction. But this airline only goes this direction, he says. Why would I lie. I get there. Flowers and a limousine at the airport. We dine out awkward with flowers, my backpack in the limo. He says his mother will love me. He says he can’t wait to introduce me to his mother. His mother is the best woman imaginable and I am just like her. Is she trapped too? I’m trapped. I understand now I am trapped. What a stupid idea. How in the fuck am I getting out of this. I’ve always wanted a wedding barefoot on a beach he says. I am not shitting you this is what he says. Holy fuck. I don’t know what kind of wedding I want. I don’t want a wedding. I don’t know this guy. The guy I know works for the company. I talk to him on the phone every day. At work I talk to him on the phone. Half a minute have a good one nice day. He is thought generally to be a great guy. He is a great guy. Who the hell knew he’d be this too. I eat. I think. He hangs out with twenty year old guys when he comes to town. He surfs he says. He bikes. He’s training for something. His friends his age have kids he says. I have a negative bank account. He has my return ticket. We eat. We go to the hotel. Beautiful hotel. We go to the hotel. My backpack gets taken up. We get taken up. I’m wearing work clothes: casual business casual, plane stained. The elevator people are smartly dressed, looking at the man and the half his age whore heading for the honeymoon suite with a backpack. There’s a whore in the elevator with us they think. And here we are. One bed. No other room. No mention. Isn’t this suite sweet he says. Suite. He has tickets to this tonight and also that just in case I’d rather that. Do I have something I want to change into? Yeah I say. Give me a minute will you? Alone will you? Just give me a minute alone. He retreats to the balcony, but he’s still all over me. I don’t have any fucking idea what to do. I am alone. Solitary. I’m thinking. There’s a desk in an alcove. Behind the bed in an alcove. I need to think. Paper. Nice pen. Keep the pen. I’m writing. I’m thinking and writing. I can do this all night.

One Response to Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel. Queen’s Ho . . .

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Three seekers of the pure truth.

They never listen to the voice of reason without being tied up by their prejudices, as Ulysses was by his fellow travelers, and giving them the order in advance: "Pull the rope tighter, the more I squirm and beg to be set free, until we will have lost sight of the Sirens."2:17 am

[Scene: Atop Mount Pisgah in Madaba, Jordan, Moses greets two more Moseses who have come to play a little chess, grill up some lamb, and argue, always argue. Always the same fight about the same damn thing.  Move on already.]

Moses: Welcome gentlemen, Moses, your face.  Not this again.

Moses Maimonides: [His badly scarred face sports wounds in varying stages of freshness. Some of them weep a yellow pus. Stinks. Moses, put a bandage on or something. A mask. Nobody wants to see that.]  Nothing.  A mirror.  Nothing.

Moses Mendelssohn: [Back bent double but nicely dressed]  Oh I’ve done that. Hurts.

Moses: You have to stop. This ridiculous pursuit. It must end. Let it go.

Moses Maimonides: I just wonder, if I could just, if I could just hear it from him once and for all.

Moses Mendelssohn: He was not Jewish. Aristotle was not a Jew. Don’t waste his time asking him that, please, man, have some dignity.  Remember who you are. From Moses to me there was none like you.  You talked Aristotle into the void! Why does his faith mean so much to you?  My closest friend is a, well, not a Christian per se, certainly not a Spinozist or some sort of athiest, more of a pantheist. He’s not Jewish anyway and you don’t see me trying to make him into a Jew.

Moses: It is Plato who is Jewish, not Aristotle. Or Socrates rather.

Moses Mendelssohn: Nonsense. Must anyone be anything? Aristotle. He dealt in reason: his philosophy conjures the purity of truth found only in mathematics. If this equals that then that equals this. Mathematics, not superstition. Most of humanity embark on the journey of life with delusion of superstitions and with the firm resolve to complete that journey with them.  You think a man who rejected the infinite and the void with an even greater resolve was a Jew?

Moses: Stop. Superstitions! I did not lead my people, God’s chosen people, all the way to the holy land for superstitions! With kids too! Are we there yet? Are we there yet? And feeding everybody, and everybody all cooped up together bickering and sick to death of each other already, and can we stop here, and can we stop there every five minutes.  I can’t tell you how many times I threatened to pull the whole thing over and turn around.

Moses Maimonides: And you did it for what? You died here!

Moses Mendelssohn: But the view, Moses, it’s soultransfiguring.  The light in the morning hours must be magnificent.

Moses: It’s a nice place to end up, I’ve got to say.

Moses Maimonides: Your barbeque pit is phenomenal, you could roast just about anything in there. How do you keep such a good smolder going?

Moses: Eternal fire. Really, it comes down to how you shape your burning bush. I like a nice pyramid with a pan of water next to it.

Moses Maimonides: Get that from the Egyptians?

Moses: Yup. You know, Moses, I’m going to ask Plato if he was Jewish. I just have to ask.

Moses Maimonides: I know, right?

Moses Mendelssohn: I can’t listen to these words.

Moses: It’s too late Moses, we are deep into the quicksand now. Our world without end is a different kind of world without end, so don’t give us your mathematical rationality. Parallel lines meet at infinity now.A = A + B.  Mathematics has been entangled in strings of its own making for infinities beyond infinities now.

Moses Maimonides: And all that bound into a finite space too.

Moses: Exactly. Everything is made from infinity and void as you well know. And was Aristotle a Jew? It was Socrates I’m sure of it, or Plato rather.  Was Aristotle Jewish? Let Moses ask him.  See what he can do.

Moses Mendelssohn: Fine. Go ahead Moses, it’s your face.

Moses: Good. Now how do you like your lamb?

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

What points of contact existed between these languages and between the peoples who spoke them?

All things are words of language that Someone or Something, night and day, writes in an infinite clamor which is the history of the world. In this confusion passes Carthage and Rome, I you, him. My life, which I do not understand, this agony of being chance cryptographic enigma and all the discord of Babel.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

He wished that a tale of a deed should be told of a deed not by him should by him not be told.

The night was dark, no father was there; The child was wet with dew; The mire was deep, & the child did weep, And away the vapour flew.2:20 am

Little Hugh of Lincoln, what were his people thinkin’?
He’s a nine year old playing with a ball.
But the very first bill that his folks couldn’t pay,
Well that boy, do we need him at all?
And the very second bill that his folks couldn’t pay,
Oh that boy, we won’t miss him at all.

Hey, thought some in Lincoln, we follow what you’re thinkin’,
Played just right, this could help one and all.
For our pockets are all empty, and we haven’t got a penny,
Look, our bills also grow mighty tall.

So with sweet little Hugh, here’s what we will do,
We’ll toss him down the well one and all.
Whoever shall we frame? Why the Jews are to blame!
And I hear they possess quite a haul.

As for Hugh never worry, he’ll make Saint in a hurry!
And rich pilgrims will flock for a cure-all.
As for our dear town of Lincoln, (look at us, now we’re thinkin’!)
We’ll trade one sweet boy for a massive windfall!

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Moneypenny Buttons

The besieged bedreamt him stil and solely of those lililiths undeveiled which had undone him. 2:22 am

Padney Socks she shook with shocks her money box,
And counted out buttons three.
Thwee buttons! worried she, oh no this cannot be,
And her neckarching cat did agree.

Padney Socks she cries and rocks, the cupboard unlocks,
And there just peas numbered three.
Just thwee peas! muttered she, but I’m getting hungwee,
And my mousewatching cat eats doubwee!

Padney Socks she frets and walks, to herself she talks,
My cat seems often bitchy.
One mean cat! plotted she, devising strategy,
My, that earwashing cat looks portly.

Padney Socks she sneaks and stalks, her cat in a box,
Then drinks a swig of brandy.
One fat cat! rejoiced she, skipping out for parsley,
For her hearthdreaming cat recipe.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

5 5/11 minutes past each hour per hour in arithmetical progression.

The happy precision of gears and well-oiled thoughts; the concurrence of energies as they converge into a single victorious trajectory. 2 hours 10 minutes 54 6/11 seconds ante meridiem

Now watch the clock. Keep your eye on it. There. That was one. Did you blink? I can slow it back down for you if you like, I’ve done it before, but we’d be here forever.

Let’s try again. There’s another one coming and there! See it? The longer hand and the shorter hand were at exactly the same angle of inclination. That’s the moment, that’s the way in, you understand. When the longer is the momma and the shorter is the girl, the way to shorter leads through longer and the way to longer leads through shorter.

Now pay attention, here it comes again and now! You missed it. Listen. You think this is easy tinkering with time for you? Try to focus. You think it’s everyday a mother and daughter feel simultaneously inclined? Yes it is every day, twenty two times a day, but I’m making a point, you owl, so don’t give me your shit. I can go. You know that, don’t you, I’ll leave. And then when will you be? I thought so. And we just missed another one, so. Yeah. Are we doing this? You ready? You’re not ready. I’m going to have to stop time or I’ll be explaining this until I’m blue in the face.

Stop.

Now let’s do the math. The hands kiss every hour and five and five elevenths minutes. Get that? Keep up. The daughter moves twelve times as fast as her mother, but that doesn’t mean momma’s not moving too. Frankly I’ll take a woman who understands a good slow rotation any day. But you are young, you like it fast, that’s your deal. So. Just know that momma is moving too, thirty degrees to her girl’s three hundred and sixty, so little miss chica moves fast, but she always plays catch up. Oh so much for her to learn. Do the division, divide little missy’s speed by momma’s endurance. Feel that eleven rising? Right there in your face. And start. And we just missed another one. Right. Right. Kid. Enough mathematics, we need to get scientific now. And musical, let’s try a higher octave. Yes? We can philosophize until the owls come home but that doesn’t get either you or me any nearer either one of them. You ready? Really feel it this time. Now go!

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

To substitute other more acceptable phenomena in the place of the less acceptable phenomena to be removed.

In order to cry, steer the imagination toward yourself, and if this proves impossible owing to having contracted the habit of believing in the exterior world, think of a duck covered with ants or of those gulfs in the Straits of Magellan into which no one sails ever.2:25 am

A father is a necessary evil, though it’s damn hard to feel necessity for something that might easily be nothing. How would I know anything? Coming into this mess: I’m a baby. I have no need of memory.  What do I want with a memory until I have some shot at using it for my own interests? I sure as hell knew who Momma was, but him? Was he even there? And me? I’m a newborn. I’m busy proceeding energetically from the unknown to the known through the incertitude of the void. I’m dealing with the painful character of the ultimate functions of separate existence. Take any other baby born on the day of my birth, take them all: he could have been all their daddies. I can see why the immaculate conception sold so well. I’ll buy one of those and I’ll take a little apostolic succession on the side.  But these recurrent frustrations, just when I can see a critical turning point just there, just there, then down we tumble faster than 32 feet per second per second. It’s a battle against hopelessness carrying on like this. He’s my only begetter; I am his only begotten, but disarmed of fatherhood what is he? Who is he to me? All babies have fathers. Some fathers are not fathers. Therefore, some babies have not fathers. Take the imposition of natural law out of the picture and what, does that make life infinitely perfectible? Upward to some great goal. Suppose I am a father. Am I a father? If I were? A father is an unnecessary evil.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Nought Nowhere was Never Reached

But time between one and the other when was brief -- I mean the whens of waiting and of seeing heaven grow more radiant.2:26 am

Look at the stars if you can see them. I see clouds and darkness but I know the stars are there. No. I don’t know that. I know that they were there. The little lights which I do not see in the sky but possibly you do, come from a past which possibly had ceased to exist as a present before its probable spectators (excluding myself) had entered actual present existence. That which I do not see might not be there now, most certainly is not there now, as by now they will have red-shifted position. All those stars running off, taking their planets with them. Ours too. Such a fearsome isolation, all this expanding outwardly from each other, temporality stretching between us. So lonely, having no contact with each other. Yet if we did, our loneliness would compound. We could look up at the stars (I at starless clouds) into distances numbering nine to the ninth power to the ninth power and find our double, as if in a mirror shining back to us: we are here too. The joy of recognition; the first sighting of a lover! And then, and then. And then we will understand in advance the impostvidibility of the past. We will know as if we have already harkened back in a kind of retrospective arrangement that we are already and always have been ever alone. There is our lover, shimmering through lakes of dreams, seas of rains, gulfs of dews, oceans of fecundity, simultaneously loving us back yet already gone. Infinity rendered finite. We would be as the new moon with the old moon in our arms, but our state of solitude is one where there can be no entry. They are gone. The world is gone.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised.

Reach down. A lil mo. So. Draw back your glave. Hot and hairy, hugon, is your hand! Here's where the falskin begins. Smoos as an infams.Holy Mother Public Relations, Inc.
10th Heaven, Empyrean
Meeting Minutes

Date: November 29th
Time: 2:28 am
Location: 10th Heaven Empyrean building: Mary’s office. Also the hallway outside of Mary’s office between her office and the toilet.
Purpose: Crisis mode. Damage control. Situation analysis. Family meeting.


Attendees:
Holy Mary: Mother of God, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most merciful, Mirror of justice, Cause of our joy, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Queen of Confessors, Queen of the family, Queen of Peace, and Queen most forgiving. Also Jesus, Martha, and Joseph.

Agenda:

1. Damage control full crisis mode.

2. Find out if what we have here is an actual crisis or just a situation we can handle like others we no longer speak of (e.g.: Lost track of Jesus’ physical location when he was twelve years old. Got him back, though. Eventually. Also: virginity).

Discussion:

1. Jesus stated that although Martha lives here now, does she have to be here for this? Martha pointed out that somebody has to hold back Mary’s hair when she pukes, which could be any time now. Both then were silent, contemplating the other in both mirrors of the reciprocal flesh of theirhisnothers fellowfaces. Jesus welcomed Martha to stay and help in whatever capacity she likes.

2. Mary says we stole the damn thing a long time ago. Is there somewhere she can lie down or something? Jesus said it was stolen again. Mary wants to know why Jesus didn’t just get rid of the damn thing, it was only a bit of dried prune under all that crystal and gold. Jesus said he thought it was pretty. It reminds him of the ultimate mortality of fruit.

3. Topic: if people discover that the divine prepuce, the carnal bridal ring of the holy Roman catholic apostolic church, conserved in Calcata Rome until we stole it, that the divine shrunken dried up scrap we shoved into that little jar is actually made from an old plum and is not the foreskin of an eight day old boy, we might be facing a game changing crisis of faith we haven’t seen since the Reformation. Ideas floated: steal it back; uphold the excommunication of anybody who speaks of (and we should add onto that: even thinks about) the holy foreskin; immediate circumcision of Jesus and let’s get a new little jar to put it in. The thieves might have the fake, but we can produce the real thing whenever we like. Jesus says no we cannot produce the real thing whenever we like.

4. Mary can’t remember who was the mohel who circumcised Jesus? Maybe we should call him in here. Joseph suggests if Mary wasn’t so obliterated drunk right now she’d remember. And if she didn’t insist on hiring her drinking buddies for everything then maybe we would have had a decent mohel who would have finished the job in the first place. Somebody union even. Martha suggested Joseph focus on his duties. Jesus considered turning Mary’s water into wine.

5. Martha wants to know how it is nobody noticed that Jesus was never circumcised. Joseph said who looked? They never had to change his diapers. He was the perfect baby. So cute too. Quiet. Slept through the night. A good eater. Never cried. Took care of himself, really. Terrible two’s were a holy bitch, but he was such a perfect baby.

Action Items:

1. Somebody make coffee. We need Mary a bit closer to sober for this. Martha? Joseph to make coffee.

2. Martha suggested we not turn this thing into a bigger crisis than is necessary. We must analyze the situation as it evolves and we absolutely cannot be the first ones to signal that we think this is a crisis. It might not be a crisis, just a situation. We cannot look like we are on the defensive in any way. Perhaps we should perform the circumcision ourselves? Mohelim can’t keep secrets. Jesus to clean spot on floor where he just vomited. Also, Mary could use a clean up while you are at it.

3. Martha suggested we never lie to the public about this. We can, however, consider honest misstatements. For example, we might tell everybody that the real foreskin ascended bodily to heaven, but got stuck around Saturn on the way. Joseph to compile a list from Martha’s dictation of possible honest misstatements to be used as talking points. Joseph will check Mary’s schedule and compile a list of possible public appearances she can make on Jesus’ behalf: we think Mary will want herself out front on this so the kid won’t screw it up. Martha to monitor Mary’s fitness for public events as her current ability to get her shit together seems dubious.

4. Jesus to get immediate circumcision so we can produce physical proof if necessary. Jesus first to research the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity, reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity, and degree of severity of ongoing crisis (possibly just a situation and not a crisis) before anybody even thinks of coming at him with a knife.

5. Martha to sharpen a knife.

6. Joseph to get Matthew in here for consultation re: financial impact of crisis. Possibly still just a situation and not yet a crisis. And for Christ’s sake, let’s keep the stockholders in the dark as long as we can. Joseph to contact Thomas Moore’s assistant re: Moore’s schedule asap. We need a lawyer on this.

7. We think Mary said we must be the ones in constant control of the flow and formulation of public opinion. Hard to understand her from the toilet with all that hair in her face. Maybe nobody will care that the relic was never real. Get some people on all the other major relics, can’t have people opening those boxes too: Christ knows what they might find. Joseph to deploy guardian angels to Thomas Aquinas’ skull , Augustine’s elbow, all of the true crosses, and the piece of Jesus’ foreskin in Coulombs Abbey, France. Tell them to take their flaming swords with them.

8. Martha suggested we remain calm. These things sometimes burn out faster than shooting stars.

Minutes typed by: Joseph
Approved by: Martha

 
 
 

2 Responses to The problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

What celestial sign was by both simultaneously observed?

I saw that each, amazingly, appeared contorted between the chin and where the chest begins; they had their faces twisted toward their haunches and found it necessary to walk backward, because they could not see ahead of them.Right. 2:30 am, Universal Time 2:55, Sidereal time 20:09:45. Conception location: 6w15, 52n20. Is this date right? You are how old? Wow. You look great. Really amazingly great. Did you get much work done? Botox? Doesn’t matter. Gemini sun, Gemini rising, Leo moon. Anyway, the shooting star witnessed at the precise moment your mother centripetally united with your centrifugally oriented father originated from Vega you say? The falling vulture. That would generally suggest a rapid decline of some sort: 32 feet per second per second. And headed right toward Leo’s ass with great apparent velocity. Here, take a look. See? Direct hit. So. Today, Leo’s ass is in direct opposition with Uranus, which at the time of your conception was in the 28th degree of Sagittarius, eighth house, house of death. Let’s look at the progression, Vega, vulture, and holy christ would you look at that. Uh, hum. Just thinking aloud here. I’m not. I want. I want to be very careful I don’t get it wrong here but I see. Huh. It’s just so clear. I’ve never seen. And Uranus in the twelfth house trine moon, which was in Leo at the time of your birth too. Well, for just this moment now at least, we can. Or. Huh. Why don’t we look at Moon trine Saturn first, then we can address the, ah, other thing. Moon trine Saturn says you might want to be alone for a while. Stay away from, um, people. And Saturn trine Neptune, yes. Go on a retreat alone maybe, take a long hike into the woods and stay there by yourself for a while. Meditate maybe. Do you want some tea? Here let me light some incense, your aura is looking, well, let’s clear the air a little. How are you feeling? I’ll be honest, from what your chart is telling me you really ought to be in bed. I can’t in good conscience keep you here. My agenbite of inwit: I’ll need to check my own chart about this. I feel all turned around, so yeah. I need to get my head on straight and you need. Well. Go now, go home and get in bed. If you ah, when you wake up call me and we’ll go over the rest of your chart. But you’d really better, ah, here’s your coat. Oh, and let’s settle the bill now.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Bellchime and handtouch and footstep and lonechill.

For abundance, even of things that are good, makes people esteem them less, and scarcity, even of bad things, lends a certain value.

2:33 am

Feel the reverb in your body
Where the sound of the bell just was:
Time dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Time newborn.
Time dying, time birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations
Bell, body, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Feel the reverb on my lip
Where the touch of your thumb just was:
Love dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Love newborn.
Love dying, love birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations
Thumb, lip, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Feel the reverb in the earth
Where the step of my foot just was:
Fear dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Fear newborn.
Fear dying, fear birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations;
Foot, fear, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

Feel the reverb in the air,
Where the chill of your breath just was:
Will dying, and
An infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,
Will newborn.
Will dying, will birthing.
Simultaneous double vibrations and double reverberations;
Breath, will, dead, newborn,
Patterning everything and nothing.

One Response to Bellchime and handtouch and footstep and lonechill.

  1. First off, who is this interloper getting you before I do. Second–this is truly worth smoking a whole carton of smokes. The image of the dying reverberation of the bell chime as “–time dying” is just one of those ah-ha moments. The whole poem has a deathly beauty to it. You done good!>KB

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Why solitary (ipsorelative)?

To dissect lions / You need lightning / For little owls you need / Forget- / fulness.
2:37 am

Instructions on how to organize the books in my office:

Not chronological, (not alphabetical!), definitely not autobiographical, no fucking way. Friends once bought me a book because they didn’t see it on my time shelf. I don’t have a time shelf. The whole damn thing is a time shelf. Let’s try ipsorelatively categorical. Limiting factors of library reorganization: largest bookcase is a set piece constructed at a scale of approximately 5:4 and designed to look imposing on stage, yet impractical for holding books designed at a ratio of 1:1; improbability of small office capacity being equal to desired portion of entire library, necessitating a library within and a library without; impossibility of knowing in the present which books will be required in the future. Also, library without must be allowed fluid motion, free transference, and ease of flux amongst volumes of library within as if library within were homothetic to library without. Position of two chairs (one: a squat stuffed easychair, no legs; the other: a retrofuture upholstered office chair) and solitary desk must remain unmoved. Now go.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

What caused him consolation in his sitting posture?

You only dwell within yourself, and only you know you; self-knowing, self-known, you love and smile upon yourself!

2:41 am

I’d rather die than sleep with you Echo, if you really want the truth. It’s not going to happen so please, come on, enough already.

But. Narcissus, you can’t hold out forever. I know what you’re doing. You have this image of yourself you are so in love with, but that’s not really you. Saying all the time you won’t have sex you won’t have sex, do you think that makes you so much more pure than everybody else? You have youth and you have beauty. And you’re a rock star. I’m just saying give it up already. You owe it if not to me, to yourself. You are missing out and here I am. Right here. Telling you and telling you. I could disappear tomorrow you know, and then who will you have to love you? I mean more than I love you.

I have myself. I have my integrity and I know my worth, and I am more valuable to me than I am to anybody else.

You are so transparent. You can love yourself all you want Narcissus, but yourself won’t love you back. God it’s like I’m empty air here, can’t you hear me? I’m telling you!

I’ve learned something, Echo, I can see myself as others see me. But more importantly I see my self as I see myself. I look into my own eyes looking into mine and there is nothing between us. No fears, no doubts. Nothing. The everythingness of nothing. Together we feel very simply, but strongly, the purity of a oneness made from the two of us. We feel it like radiance, projecting outwardly from our center in concentric circles. It feels like waves, Echo. When we connect together within that moment, we are the meaning and even the source of the two in the one and the one in the two. And we feel together, I and I, I feel that this truth has been and always will be true since time immemorial and forever more. Desde siempre y para siempre.

You’re killing me! Narcissus, I love you like you’ve never seen before. I beg you to listen to me.

I can’t even look at you.

One Response to What caused him consolation in his sitting posture?

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Bentwood perch with fingertame parrot (expurgated language).

They have turned you into something other than a human being. You have no power of choice any longer. You are committed to socially acceptable acts, a little machine capable only of good.

2:49 am

Namaste ladies, gentlemen, birds. Oh! Yes, well, I’ll pretend your bird didn’t say that. It’s all good. Your parrots are welcome to come out of their cages. We want them to feel the calming energy and peaceful environment we have created especially for them. Particularly that one. Good mother earth, the language! I’ll need to recenter myself. Just a sec, please help yourself to a crystal you can keep in your bird’s cage, choose the one that speaks to your energy or better yet, allow your bird to choose it. We have larger quartz clusters starting at thirty two dollars. If you like the music, I said, if you like the music, can anybody hear me? I’ll speak up. If you like the music the cd’s are for sale: celtic wind chime sounds of the sacred oracle. Sacred oracle. ORACLE. Well I can see some of you do need the universe to make them stop. Wow! Big crowd today too. Let’s gently ask our birds to say something less offensive. Oh! Well, now, your bird can really get you into some trouble, sir. Oh no. Ok. Ok. Crap. If the parrots start fighting, we should ask them with kindness to return to their cages. And that’s not fighting. How beautiful! Oh. Oh no. That’s not beautiful. Ok we’ll need to get the rest of them to stop. We need to stop this. WE NEED TO STOP THESE BIRDS, THEY’RE ALL SETTING EACH OTHER OFF! I SAID SETTING! Great Goddess, it’s parrots narrating bird porn! Can we just. Um. Here, throw this prayer rug over them. THROW IT OVER THEM. Didn’t help. So many African Greys today, they tend to vibrate better with white sage, maybe I should just put out this sweetgrass and light some sage instead. Ok. Let’s try to get started. Namaste, welcome, please if you are just arriving, take a seat on the floor. I said Namaste, wel, NAMASTE! NAMASTE! OH! SHOOT! HEY! HEY LET’S KEEP THE DOOR CLOSED, Uh, let’s keep the door closed as the birds chakras will be much more open if we allow them to interact freely with one another and with us. Shall we begin? Begin! LET’S BEGIN! First let’s take a deep breath and palms up to the universe and declare our intent, JUST DO WHAT I DO. FUCK THE BIRDS. OH SHIT. Fuck I’m swearing. Damnit. Ok. Ok. Let’s all calm down, our chakras are all spinning way too fast. NOTHING. NEVER MIND. DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING, JUST FORGET THE BIRDS FOR NOW AND PALMS UP. BREATHE. DON’T WORRY IF YOU CAN’T HEAR ME. O UNIVERSE, we wish to communicate directly with the heaventree of stars and we ask all our angels and spirit guides to be with us here today. Our higher selves humbly ask the higher selves of our feathered companions, I mean the birds not the angels! Ha! The spirits are laughing. I SAID THE SPIRITS ARE LAUGHING! NEVER MIND. Fuck me the spirits have a sense of humour today. Glad they do at least. Our higher selves ask the higher selves of our parrot friends to please find a way to forget the words we wish they had never learned by mnemotechnic. So mote it be. SO MOTE IT BE.  Nice deep breath. Ah! Would anybody like some tea? TEA? Fuck. OK EVERYBODY LISTEN UP, PUT YOUR BIRDS BACK IN THEIR CAGES. BACK IN THE CAGES. JUST GRAB THEM AND STUFF THEM IN THERE. COVER THEM UP. COVER THEIR CAGES. Jesus christ what a clusterfuck. YES YOUR HAND IS UP? YOU’LL HAVE TO SAY THAT AGAIN, I DIDN’T HEAR OVER THE. I’ll go over there. No, we don’t buy birds from our clients. There is a bulletin board in the hall; people sometimes post them for sale on that. Right. Let’s start over. Oh fuck you too. Sorry. Sorry. I’m new at parrot clearing. I can talk to most animals though, but these, uh, gosh darned uh. Yeah. Sorry. Let’s all take a deep cleansing breath. Good. That’s better. Birds are calming down. Covering cages takes it down a bit, but you can’t keep your bird covered up all the time: it’s absolutely terrible for their auras. So. Your birds swear like sailors and granny is coming for the solstice, while we recenter, why don’t we all share what remedies we have tried with our bird families so far? I mean besides the usual things: reiki, chakra balancing, aurasoma therapy, bird whisperers. Ignore your bird, yes, that can help. Your bird wants attention so don’t give attention to behaviors you would rather avoid, but always be mindful they are creatures of the universe who need to give and receive love. What else? No, given the karmic repercussions we don’t recommend punishing your bird in any way. Absolutely not. It would be. Wait. What did you do? And you kept the game hen in the freezer or something? That’s. That is just. I think you should reconsider showing a dead plucked bird to your parrot, not only for the sake of your own karma, but it is clear that your poor bird’s chakras are particularly weak. And telling your parrot that this can happen to him, I just have no words. No, I didn’t say that. That wasn’t me, it was Isis, my parrot. Listen, your aura is so tattered and damaged, you really need to get a realignment.  We can do that here for two hundred dollars and you can keep a recording of the session. Ok. Other ideas we’ve tried? Yes, you? No, we don’t recommend tranquilizers or feeding your bird whiskey to make it fall asleep. What is wrong with you people? Hey. No your bird did not say that, I saw your lips move! Ok. Let’s just do this. We recommend, besides providing a safe and loving sanctuary for your parrot soul mates, that you pick your bird’s favorite vulgar word and find appropriate rhyming words he or she can say instead. Judging from the birds we have with us today, you might consider words like duck, luck, pluck, cluck, buck, stuck, suck. Well, maybe not suck. Or schmuck. Who said schmuck? I don’t think that came from your bird, sir.  I heard that. That one was a woman’s voice. Hey! Ok that one might have been a bird. So instead of that word, why not try a word like itch, ditch, which, rich, stitch. Come on, there aren’t that many birds in here. That was like two dozen voices. Ok, let’s see if, I SAID LET’S SEE IF WE CAN CALM THEM DOWN AGAIN. EVERYBODY STOP TALKING! BIRDS TOO! I knew I should never run a workshop on a day when the moon is squared with Saturn. I knew it. And the moon is in Leo too, what was I thinking! Fuck! Ok. Other words. I SAID WE SHOULD THINK OF OTHER WORDS! SHIT SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! INSTEAD OF SAYING SHIT SAY CHIT, WIT, PIT, TIT, no not tit, PIT, I said that one, SKIT. Once you have your word, record yourself saying it. I SAID RECORD IT. PLAY IT BACK TO THE BIRD ON AUTO REPEAT AND LEAVE THE HOUSE. WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU SIR, YOU WHAT? OH MY FUCKING GOD FOR CHRIST’S SAKE YOUR BIRD WANTS A FUCKING CRACKER! GIVE IT A GOD DAMNED MOTHER FUCKING CRACKER!

One Response to Bentwood perch with fingertame parrot (expurgated language).

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

A solution of the secular problem of the quadrature of the circle.

Mortals are immortals and immortals are mortals, the one living the others' death and dying the others' life.

2:53 am

A circle is a circle because it is not a square. A square is a square because it is not a circle. Well now duh. So why do it? Why would anybody for any reason (with any reason) want to square the circle? Why take the one (let’s say the square: all pointed and anchored, so angular, and such fixity (a place for everything and everything in its place) such certainty) and try to make it anything but what it is? it’s good the way it is. Leave it alone. Who needs a turning of this into that when you already have both this and that. And look at that that: smooth and continuous. arcing around, no beginning no end: doesn’t know if it is coming or going, really, and frankly doesn’t care. You can’t pin that down: where to put the pin? Tell me precisely where. Go ahead. Like any coastline regardless of adjacent ocean, the closer you get, the more places for pinning. With circles its turtles all the way down. You would think the square would have no problem becoming a circle, it’s made of such nice round numbers, but sister circle is just so damn big, no matter how small she is. The maddening thing about her is that she flaunts her shape at us no matter how we want to see her. Looks like the perfect place for keeping things in. But how can such a perfect container, (with all the appearance of finite enclosure) harbor such infinities beyond reason? In becomes out. Where does she put it all? No wonder people behave like such lunatics trying to fit their square pegs into her round holes. This is now that, ta daaa! Imagine. And why? Once that’s done there’d be nothing left for them to do. Nothing left for anybody to do. What else could there possibly be? You’re done. You’ve just made the independent discovery of a goldseam of inexhaustible ore. You can go ahead now and buy your own island, no problem, and get down to watching the money riding in with the waves. Would be nice. It could be an art, even, cultivating the purest of possible devotions to one’s own pleasure. Could do anything. Arrange beehives according to humane principles, and the like. Join capital with opportunity and the thing required is done. Maybe even start my own religion. The Holy Church of the Sacred Squircle. No. Don’t like the holy church part. Squirclism. That’s better. I like that much better.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The artificial placation of malignant agencies.

Shhh.

2:57 am

I could kill him in his sleep. I’m so mad I could kill him in my sleep. I hope I do kill him in my sleep. There. I said it. I hope I kill him in my sleep. If I could kill him in my sleep I wouldn’t have to be there for it. I wouldn’t have to look at him. I hate looking at him. Then I could wake up nicely, have a little breakfast, some polite conversation, a little chit chat, and we can go about our lives.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Reversed alphabetic boustrophedonic punctated quadrilinear cryptogram (vowels suppressed).

So much for human fortune. When all is well, a mere shadow can turn it upside down, in the face of calamity, the slightest blow destroys, like a wet sponge blotting out a drawing.3:03 am

Ds.gh  o.xp.w  .m  ..i  wi.d.i?  /   h.h. .oS  d.h  ui.. /  Y.g  d.  ko.m  g.  hg..o  .g  /  N.  h.hg.i  .mw  n. /

3 Responses to Reversed alphabetic boustrophedonic punctated quadrilinear cryptogram (vowels suppressed).

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

That is not more to stand.

And death is there in the background, we must run to arrive beforehand and understand it's already unimportant.

3:05 am

Instructions on how to kill yourself:

First, you must find a reason not to live. There exists uncountable reasons but you must choose at least one and try to make it as ineffable as possible so the people you leave behind may feel suitably at a loss for words when they find you. An added benefit: it will be easier for the people who attend your wake, interment, scattering of the ashes, memorial service, or what have you, to speak in hushed and reverent tones if they find themselves capable of speaking at all. Amongst the reasons not to live you might choose: you are suffering from progressive melancholia; by ceasing to exist you will bring your existence to the attention of the person who barely knows you exist, though you maintain a unique awareness of said person’s existence; pondering the great nothingness of everythingness has inverted your thoughts into a perpetual retrospective arrangement.

Once you have found your reason not to live, you must reduce said reason by cross multiplication of reverses of fortune. Take it all down to one point: a singularity which contains everything.

Compose a note to be found suitably near your corpse, but not in a place where it might slip beyond a finder’s field of vision. Clutched in the hand makes for great cinema and literature, but rarely works in real death. Include in your epistle a précis of your reason not to live. Ask somebody to be kind to your surviving pets.

Leave something in a book, marking a particularly resonant passage or one which will send the finder harkening back in a retrospective arrangement upon discovery. Possibilities may include leaving something in a book at a symbolic page number. One might even leave something in a book which will send the finder to something left in another book which will send the finder to more books always to the last term of the preceding series even if the first term of a succeeding one, originating in and repeated to infinity. Possible items to leave in books: puzzle pieces, scraps of a shirt, pages of other books. Possible symbolic number: 1132.

Select the method of suicide according to your own levels of drama, squeamishness, accessible materials, pain tolerance, or desire to leave a nice looking corpse. There is no need to be elaborate, if you are already poisoning yourself slowly with something: increase the dose; if you tend toward recklessness perhaps walk closer to the cliff edge until 32 feet per second per second takes care of the matter for you; have the light at the end of your tunnel be an oncoming train, or if your perambulations bring you near an oncoming Jagannath: toss yourself into his path. You’ll receive an added bonus for that last one.

If you have items locked away, say in a drawer, leave a key handy or better still, unlock the drawer before your demise so the living won’t have to destroy the furniture to access its contents. It’s just common courtesy.  Now go.

2 Responses to That is not more to stand.

  1. Dude, what’s with you and cigarettes and Sly? So many things could be inferred from this…..If I were a lesser person (which, in fact, I am), I’d tell you to stfu…. And I wouldn’t be surprised if your name is on a registry somewhere. And, no, not the wedding kind.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

4 Responses to Would the departed never nowhere nohow reappear?

  1. Wow, Anno, you realllly know how to take creepy to a whole new level, don’t you? I wouldn’t be surprised if you snuck into Sly’s house at night just to paint her toenails in her sleep and made a doll out of hair from her brush….and then serenaded it

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Past Consecutive Causes

I have noticed a thin crack, like a hair, appearing in my wrist, beneath the skin . . . no matter. We all owe death a life. 3:13 am

Polly Temporal:

Let’s take a day,
This one let’s say
And mine the whole of last year.
Look far to the back,
Just there, a small crack!
We’ll blast our nadir through here.

Politemporal:

Stop this today!
That’s enough! Go away!
Dear ones you’re two naughty I fear.
They mean well, I think
(I’ll say with a wink!)
But look out, their plans are severe.

Paulie Temporal

Enough with this day,
Kill it I say
We’re making plans for next year.
Sly Uses, my love,
You’re getting the shove,
We’ll strip you to your brassiere.

Sly Uses:

They plan to betray?
Who are you? I should say,
And what are you doing in here?
I’m here every day
And Sly Uses shall stay,
But what is this crack that’s appeared?

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The bed of conception and of birth, of consummation of marriage and of breach of marriage, of sleep and of death.

In one day of mankind are all the days of time, from that unimaginable first day of time, when a formidable God prearranged the days and the agonies, to that other day when the perpetual river of earthly time flows round to its headwaters, the Eternal, and is extinguished in the present, the future, the past, the passing -- what is now mine.
3:17 am

Stop

Thank’s Krishna, I need all the time I can get. Do I stay or do I go now? Which now do  I pick (containing which bed?) It’s halfway between late and early. Think. Think think think. Ok, make lists, check in, get rational because there’s a now moment just there, you see it? They’re all crowding in now everything else is still.  See it? That’s it just there. It’s close, that now when I’ll need to know what I think about this.

Do I go now

What selfimposed enigma?

I was drunk or buzzed or whatever an hour ago, but not hungover yet. Not that high. I’m fine: driveable.

What selfinvolved enigma?

There’s at least three, maybe four guys in this room and another on the balcony entwined in the sargasso friend zone, who would help me scoop up Drunkalinda and insert her into my car so I might drive home maintaining constant uniform acceleration, her upper body arranged along parallel lines to the passenger window meeting at infinity. Unless she pukes.

What selfevident enigma?

The height of the open window exceeds the arc of her body whilst vomiting. She’ll vomit into the door her face intersecting at a 90 degree angle the top of the window (recessed). She can ride in the back seat with a trash bag.

Do I stay

What play of forces, inducing inertia, render departure undesirable?

The invitation from the one to share his bed: the proximity of an occupied bed, obviating research: the anticipation of warmth (human) obviating desire and rendering desire desirable. The simultaneous invitation from the other one to share his bed: sound entwined with Echo.

Am I entering a lair or ambush of lust or adders?

Probably. There are snakespirals and pendent viper radii loose in every coming now. See them? With everything in an eternal pause I can’t know if they are coiling or uncoiling. Will this now coil and create a universe? What about that one? Will that now uncoil and destroy my world? The odds are 20:1.

What personal objects are perceived?

To the north: tall, fair, blue, has a laughing kind of a voice. To the west: short, dark, brown, disposed on the floor, coiled. To the south: tall, dark, blue, watching me and watching me: perpetual inaction originating in and repeated to infinity.

Now then

The simultaneous prospects of each render me unavailable to any.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Exposure by mechanical artifice.

The morning sun reverberated from the bronze sword. There was no longer even a vestige of blood. "Would you believe it, Ariadne?" said, Theseus. "The Minotaur scarcely defended himself."

3:21 am

Ok people, we don’t have much time so listen up. I want cameras recessed into the mattress here and here, one in the lamp, one in the plant, and one in the wine bottle. Can we get that wine poisoned? Good. Video people, check your angles and work with the design team, maybe you can find a way to get some cameras into the floor too. Share electricians with the audio people. Audio team, where are you? There you are. I’ll be needing audio everywhere. I want to hear everything. I want to hear whispers. I want to hear unspoken thoughts. Audio everywhere, you hear me? Right. Weaponry. I want spikes coming up through here, and possibly here, and darts or whatever projectiles you brought with you coming from the ceiling, and I think that wall there. And there. Is everything poison tipped? Good. Snake wranglers. You’ll need to find a way to keep those adders out of sight, at least until they get started. Can we include the snakes with the other projectiles? Maybe launch them at a 45 degree angle like a shot off a shovel? Work with the weaponry people on that. Check and see if an adder can take that kind of landing. I don’t know, Google it. Design people, wherever you see eyes in a picture, I want holes there for the concealed ocular witnesses. Everybody clear? We’ll fuck them. They’ll be fucked. Now go.

One Response to Exposure by mechanical artifice.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

In what final satisfaction did these antagonistic sentiments and reflections, reduced to their simplest forms, converge?

Shhh.

3:25 am

[Scene: Two lovers in bed, AE with Lizzie Twigg: coiled head to toe they quietly discuss the fixity of their volatility and the volatilization of their fixation, until within his fixedness AE has become nothing and feeling everything, Lizzie becomes volitive. They communicate intermittently in increasingly more laconic narrations. Also a small angry dog is trying to take up as much space as possible between them. It’s so cute! Come here little puppy, come here. What a good doggie. Who’s a good doggie? Oh Jesus God! He’s all teeth! Get off me! Like petting a piranha with fur.]

AE: It’s just that we define ourselves contrarily to each other. I am me because I am not you, and you are you because you are not me. We are poles apart.

Lizzie: We are the same person, AE, don’t you feel it?  After all the mutual deaths we have died? Resurrection, translation, return, distillation, putrefaction, decay, still you don’t know you had it backwards the whole time. You were resurrecting in the wrong direction.

AE: I know. I know it. I just wanted to be the material representation of eternality, in linear time. Just once. Just for a little while. Only long enough to re-experience that feeling of linearity. Don’t you miss it? And feel what it could be, to be linear and eternal simultaneously.

Lizzie: But you can’t just translate yourself into linearity and say I’m back, everybody, I’ve  gained bodily entry into eternity and now look at me! Look at what happened to Lazarus. No. If you want to see how a human mortal finds a place within eternity, that’s not going to cut it. That gets you nothing.

AE: Nothing’s not nothing. Don’t knock nothing.

Lizzie: No, nothing’s not nothing.

AE: I was trying be the eternal temporalized. I wanted to be the all at onceness linearized. I wanted to square that circle, just once. Just the one time and be it and feel it, really feel what it is to be the coexistence of the infinite and the finite.

Lizzie: Be eternality living in linearity? Darling, you’ve done it. You’ve been there already. The infinite and the finite are the same things whichever side you’re on, if you really must take sides, can’t you tell? Just look at us, two beings contrarily defined yet coexisting as aspects of the same reality.

AE: I know. I get it. You don’t have to scratch me like that.

Lizzie: That wasn’t me, but here’s a flash of light for you AE: when we were mortals we didn’t have to go around worrying all the time about gaining bodily entry into eternity: eternity had already gained bodily entry into us. We have always already been since time immemorial and forevermore, the material representation of eternality.

AE: We are God.

Lizzie: Exactly. We are already a squared circle: we can take a finite form, but our infinite selves are in there too.

AE: We are a circle, containing everything.

Lizzie: Everything and nothing.

[At rest relatively to themselves and to each other, the lovers settle into silent contemplation. Small birds rise gently, sweetly, from Lizzie and from AE. Hundreds of them flitter up in swirling concentric patterns bringing with them, as if reflected from the sheen of their feathers, an increasing luminosity of ruby light. Thousands of little birds, aeons of them, softly forming clouds as soft as what do you call it gossamer, the clouds forming mist, the mist gently drifting downward covering the lovers, the lovers blurring about the edges. Together they coalesce and dissolve, their bodies languid, breathing, watching their spirits unrestrained, circling, birds rising into mist falling, like self knowing wheels revolving uniformly: self knowing and self known.]

2 Responses to In what final satisfaction did these antagonistic sentiments and reflections, reduced to their simplest forms, converge?

  1. “It’s not just boys, and I’ve never invited just boys to come in my room. C’mon, that’s just ridiculous.” -words also written by Michael Jackson.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The childman weary, the manchild in the womb.

The imminent is as immutable as rigid yesterday. There is no matter that rates more than a single, silent letter in the eternal and inscrutable writing whose book is time. He who believes he's left his home already has come back.

3:27 pm

Return, my darling, come back. You are a part of me. You are me. Come back my sweet, it’s only natural my baby: I am your source. Every circle comes back to the beginning. Every will be becomes is. You are tired, you try so hard, pointing every moment you can get your hands onto toward will be. East! East! Turn me towards what’s next! Oh honey, turn around, come west with me. That’s it. You are unburdened. Shhh.  Tensions gone. Mind free. No responsibilities. No desire. I have you. Shhh. You have me. You have everything. Be the child in my womb, my sweet baby love, you be me. No needs. No time. No time between desire and fulfillment. No distinction between demand and supply. There’s no temporality here. You are atoned with the all at onceness of the everything. You are not conscious. You don’t need to be conscious. You don’t need consciousness: fulfillment comes simultaneously with your need. Consciousness is for temporality, for attending to what’s next. You’re with momma now baby: you have everything so let it all go. No pain. No suffering. No fear. Sleep well my darling. I have you my sweetie love. Shhh. Tomorrow is a new day will be.

2 Responses to The childman weary, the manchild in the womb.

  1. I don’t think so. This is a reaction to Bloom curled in
    fetal position, Molly in the position of Gaia-Tellus on her side,
    moving westward at the end of Ithaca. But perhaps it is a reaction.
    I have a six year old child, so maybe.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Where?

In that unbounded moment, I saw millions of delightful and horrible acts; none amazed me so much as the fact that all occupied the same point, without superposition and without transparency. What my eyes saw was simultaneous; what I shall write is successive, because language is successive. Something of it, though, I will capture.
3:33 am

Curl in bed; it’s quite easily done.
Darling it’s late and nothing you have won.
You see? The point is vanishing,
When: which was what was wanting,
The point: there is everything in the none.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.