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.
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.
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.
AE (George W. Russell), Alchemy, Chalkboard Murmuration Bird, Dante Alighieri, Dog, God, Gossamer, Infinity, James Joyce, Lazarus, Lizzie Twigg, M. K. Dickerson, Nothing, Paradiso, Quadrature of the Circle, Resurrection, Temporality, Theatre, Ulysses
[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.]
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.
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.
The simultaneous prospects of each render me unavailable to any.
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.
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.
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.
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?
1132, 32 feet per second per second, Cronopios y Famas, Death, Instruction Manual, Instructions on How to Wind a Watch, Jagannath, Julio Cortazar, Key, Mathematical Esoterica, Nothing, Point, Retrospective Arrangement
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.