Having my way with Ulysses

Beneath a reign of uncouth stars.

• Proteus

For one of those gnostics, the visible universe was an illusion or (more precisely) a sophism. Mirrors and fatherhood are abominable because they multiply and disseminate that universe. 11:46 am

[A slight whispering wind blows through the theatre and we hear the sound of an incoming tide.  The veil of the temple rises revealing a circle of people lying on their backs staring up at the sky.]

Cassiopeia: [gazing at herself in a hand mirror] The stars are beautiful at this time of day, don’t you agree?  Though not as beautiful as me of course.

Pan:  Of course, baby.  Now come over here and sit on my lap.  My energies are rising.

Cassiopeia:  None so beautiful as me.

Shadow: [rolling over, bending himself toward the rocks, turning his back to the sun] Darkly they are there behind this light.  Darkness shining in the brightness.

Proteus:  [in the shape of a long stick, curved at the end, no knots]  We are here to look at birds people, not stars.  Now pay attention before I change my mind, I’m getting tired.  Did you hear that rook?  That means it will soon rain.

Pan:  This is Seattle, everything means it will soon rain.  Look, a dog!  It will soon rain. Look, a wave!  It will soon rain.  Please.  So, Virgin, your hand is so gentle.  Love the longlashed eyes, baby, want to trust me a little?

Cassiopeia:  She, she, she.  What is she to compare to me?

That Virgin:  [pointing] That cloud looks like a book.  See it up there?  Oooh, now it looks like letters.  U. P.

Pan:  [visibly aroused]  A lady of letters!  I am lonely here, touch me.

Proteus:  [in the form of our souls]  Goodness!  Look at that manshape ineluctable! I’ll sit on your lap. Cling to you a little, a woman to her lover.

Pan: [in his flutiest voice] The more the more!

Shadow:  [flatly] Come back to us Proteus, I see shadows of birds on a white field.

Pan: [Flutier] Don’t listen Proteus, come, cling, then come.  Now where the blue hell are you?

Proteus:  [In the form of a mirror] That’s better.  Feel a bit shamewounded.  Now where were we.  Oh yes.  Those birds, Shadow, are magpies and there are one, two, seven of them.  A secret.  And my stars, look, an owl!  And it is nearly noon, no wonder I am so tired.  Let’s see, owl, a revelation at night.  Also a bitter mystery.  A mysterious secret will be revealed at night.  Also, it will soon rain.

Cassiopeia:  [rubbing lotions into her skin]  Proteus, you’ve never looked so flat, yet in you I see distance.  Near, far, east, me.  Oh there I am.  Me.  Oh Proteus, you are so beautiful.  Oh, I feel something!  What is that word known to all men?

That Virgin:  What is that word?  I want to feel it too.  Point over here Proteus, show me what Cassiopeia sees.

Proteus: [In the form of Berkeley]  You see nothing.  You think you see.  Everything is flat, and you only think you see distances.  Those stars unbeheld behind this light?  Their distance is only an element of your idea of them.

Pan: [masturbating gently]  I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now.  I am quiet here alone.  Sad too.  Touch, touch me.

Shadow: [in the form of my form]  Not for all the word.

Shut your eyes and see

• Proteus

Creating space, Creating Time according to the wonders Divine Of Human Imagination, throughout all the Three Regions immense Of Childhood, Manhood & Old Age; & the all tremendous unfathomable Non Ens Of Death was seen in regenerations terrific or complacent varying According to the subject of discourse & every Word & Every Character Was Human according to the Expansion or Contraction, the Translucence or Opakeness of nervous fibres such was the variation of Time & Space 11:00 am

The world is real and eternal.  Don’t take my word for it, think through your eyes.  Look at the idealists, they knew how to use a good work around.  Take Berkeley for example.

Berkeley:  There is not existence without the mind.  Objects cannot exist without a mind perceiving them.

So to perceive is to be.  Oh yeah, then when I leave the room does it disappear?  Come on.

Berkeley:  Objects continue because God sees them.

And there you are.  A likely story.  Convenient to invent a universal perceiver so all things can be seen and thus be real.  Even Schopenhauer, who had a bit more sense than the other idealists, speaks this treason.

Schopenhauer:  The world is my idea.

Please, what about that sun up there behind those clouds?  And this beach, these shells I crunch under my feet and this sand washing through my fingers?

Schopenhauer:  It is not a sun and an earth, but only an eye that sees a sun and a hand that feels the earth.

But what about time?  Close your eyes.  Think of a very short space of time.  You aren’t closing your eyes.  You think I can’t see you?  I can’t see you and you are real.  Now close them.  Nothing will disappear.  Go ahead.  I’ll wait.  Ok, close your eyes later and think of very short times of space.  And listen.  Rhythms, the nearing tide, the crunch under your feet.  Close your eyes and look through the opacity of your eyelids.  Is it is all still there?   World without end?   All the time, and all time?  You did not need to see to believe.  All still here.  Me too.  Look, there are my feet.  Buck’s shoes.  I’m wearing his pants too.  And Jim’s hat.  But whether one thing comes after another or they stand nicely side by side, the world is not the idea of a creator.  There is no Los, that fallen earth owner creating material reality in his forge, or holding his diaphanous orb of fire as he walks into the crypt of eternity wearing Blake’s hat.  Nor are there ghosts within.  Listen.  That’s a ghost talking, Hamlet’s father.  Howsomever thou pursuest this act, taint not thy mind nor let thy soul contrive against thy mother.  Now look what you’ve done.  I should never have spoken to you.  Your fault!  My mother, ghost with ashes on her breath, is walking here.  No.  Jesus!  I will not fall over that cliff that beetle’s o’er his base.  Oh Christ look now, look with your thoughts.  There I go.