Having my way with Ulysses

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.]

Dead he wasn’t. Simply absconded somewhere.

Come back here and take what's coming to ya! I'll bite your legs off!
1:42 am

I thought you were dead you yellow bastard. Grrrr. You resurrected yourself, didn’t you? or killed yourself or was laying low or something. Left my person a bloody weeping mess and no clue how to get you back. Sit! Stay! And now you’re back like a murderer to the crime scene. You’re a lucky dog Lizzie didn’t set me at you directly you got back. I’m going to pee in your shoes. Maybe she will go back to the convent soon, you think of that AE?  We liked it there. But we’ll have to sound the lie of the land first, would be prudent: Sister Mary Peter hates us now. Too bad really. I liked the smell of him better than you, you stink like the dead. Woof! And not in a good way. And here you are like the bath nobody wanted, destroying everything warm and comfortable. Before you, Lizzie would take me running. And we’d play go get it! And, who’s a pretty puppy! Now I’m lucky to get out of her purse more than twice a day. Thanks AE. Just, thanks. Well kill my dog you better hide your cat. I’ll get you my pretty. Now go.

The last straw.

Friends, I have forgotten two things. I wish all to know that I do not propose to sell any part of my country, nor will I have the whites cutting our timber along the rivers, more especially the oak. I am particularly fond of the little groves of oak trees. I love to look at them, and feel a reverence for them, because they endure the wintry storms and summer's heat, and not unlike ourselves seem to thrive and flourish by them. One thing more: those forts filled with white soldiers must be abandoned, there is no greater source of trouble and grievance to my people.

12:44 am

Scene: [Tranquilla convent, infirmary. Lizzie Twigg is unconscious and lying on a tinseled oak bed. The shading she has painted with loving pencil on her eyes, bosom, and shame is badly smeared. Sister Mary Peter lifts her from the secondbest bed while St. Agatha straightens the warm impress of her warm form.]

St. Agatha: Don’t jostle her like that.

Sister Mary Peter: I should drop her for what she’s done. She has sinned. We have suffered!

St. Agatha: Sister. Our Sister. Shh! Just look at her. Classic curves: a thing of beauty. Here, put her down on her stomach, we can take the powderpuff to the spot where her back changes name.

Sister Mary Peter:  No, please I beg you. What must my eyes look down on. [Nearly drops Lizzie Twigg but catches her with her leg.]

St. Agatha: Nekum! Remember your wounded knee! Come on, let’s see if she has hair there.

[Sister Mary Peter returns Lizzie Twigg to the bed, facing up.]

Lizzie Twigg: [Talking in her sleep] Where dreamy creamy gull waves o’er the waters dull.

Sister Mary Peter: Oh that’s it. [Gives Lizzie Twigg a hard shove with both hands. She rolls a dummymummy in the sheet off of the bed and onto the floor.

St. Agatha: Mary Peter!

Lizzie Twigg: Bbbbblllllblblblblobschb! What’s happening? I feel like I fell from a cliff!

St. Agatha: You fell out of bed. Sister Mary Peter help her up! [St Agatha rushes to kiss Lizzie Twigg in four places as she crawls jellily forward from under the bed, with dignity].

Lizzie Twigg: [Returning to bed] I’m fine. What happened? Mnemo? I don’t think I’m in full possession of my faculties. I feel like I’ve been run over.

Sister Mary Peter: You were run over, and me too trying to save you. I think I have a concussion.

St. Agatha: Ssh! She is right, our sister. Don’t you remember, dear? You tried to perform a solo ghost dance and then you threw yourself under Jagannath.

Lizzie Twigg: [Covers her face with her hands looking through parting fingers] Oh God. Where’s AE?

Sister Mary Peter: Where’s AE? Sacrilege! Who cares about AE? He’s nothing! What are you doing trying to re-kill yourself over a man? Your crucifix not thick enough? What do you lack within our barbed wire?

St. Agatha: Ssh! Lizzie, you can’t kill yourself again. We immortals have no word for that in our dictionary. I know AE’s return was difficult for you.

Sister Mary Peter: Difficult!

St. Agatha: Ssh, sister yes, it was difficult. Lizzie, you fell 32 feet per second per second for him all over again. But here at Tranquilla we are brides of Christ. You must have no more desire. We are only the ethereal.

Lizzie Twigg: Only ethereal! Then how do you account for that large moist stain on Mary Peter’s robe? And Mother Agatha, I can smell the cloud of stench escaping from your crack.

St. Agatha: [A button pops off of her sackcloth habit; she’s lost a charm] Listen sister, we know where we’d all be if we were only ethereal, but we won’t turn your strength into our weakness. Where do you think you were going to end up, after Jagannath squashed you? Where? Where was that ghost dance going to take you? To Sitting Bull floating in the ether? Rise up all you want, go ahead, but you’ll come back down. You think you were going to ghost dance yourself up to some cloudy waiting lounge, then sit around wondering when the vorex will open under AE’s feet? Circumstances alter cases, have you learned nothing from your time here? Don’t you understand anything? Our convent is built on buffalo holocausts. The skull mountains: we’ve shaped them into cathedrals. You think we don’t bleed? We are the sisters of the last straw and Grandfather Tatanka Iyotanka is our patron saint. [Looking toward Standing Rock] Father I come! Father give us back our arrows! [Looks at Lizzie Twigg with features hardening] You say you are done with AE then you try this? Fool someone else sister, not me.

It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of Hennessy’s three star.

Blackness is the beginning of whiteness, and a sign of putrefaction and alteration, and that the body is now penetrated and mortified. From the putrefaction therefore in this water, there first appears blackness, like unto broth wherein some bloody thing is boiled. Secondly, the black earth by continual digestion is whitened, because the soul of the two bodies swims above upon the water, like white cream; and in this only whiteness, all the spirits are so united, that they can never fly one from another.12:26 am

Scene: [In an alchemists laboratory, an exhausted owl and a disheveled goat move in opposing arcs around a stork-shaped alembic suspended over an enormous fire. A nebulous obscurity that looks like what do you call it gossamer occupying space within the alembic is communicating with the assembled company, which includes Cassandra, Lizzie Twigg, and St. Agatha.]

Lilith: [Obviously missing some feathers] But what you don’t understand, AE, is that you have not reincarnated and you are most certainly not deathless.  Just look at yourself!

Cassandra: Or smell yourself for that matter, isn’t that thing supposed to be hermetically sealed?

Azazel: [Mascera running down his face, lipstick on his teeth, dead roses slipping off of his horns, in obvious need of a mirror] AE, can you hear me? AE, pay attention! You are manifest without rebirth, that’s it. You are nothing. You accomplished your nothingness badly too and for what?

AE: [with a voice of waves] I’m not leaving here until I deliver my message to the world.  Death is the highest form of life. And the highest form of life is me. I am death!

Cassandra: What a narcisist. He’s going to talk about himself until he’s black in the face.  Lilith, can we get on with the re-death without AE’s cooperation?  We have fire, the bicycle pump for air, and what is that thing?

Lizzie Twig: A lobster?

Lilith: A crayfish.  We couldn’t source a real lobster. [Scowls at Azazel].

Cassandra: A crayfish then, for water.  We need something earthy.

Lilith: Something sexually titilating for him, perhaps a pair of breasts? Agatha?

St. Agatha:  I left them at the convent.

Lilith: Lizzie, tell us about your first time with AE.

St. Agatha: She’s a bride of Christ! She can’t be confessing her every little past indiscretion.  What will he think?

Lizzie Twigg: No that’s ok, Agatha. I want to do this; I need closure. I remember I had just answered an ad to aid AE in literary work, but typing skills weren’t required. In a weak moment I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it. I had been drinking Bass, and absinthe, or was it burgundy and absinthe. I remember the absinthe, but what else was it?

Lilith: Doesn’t matter. He’s listening.  Look.

Azazel: AE, seek thou the light!

AE: I won’t have my leg pulled!

Cassandra: Good idea. Lilith, reach in there and let’s fish him out.

Lilith: Yes. Azazel, stoke that fire.  We’ll need the cream to rise to the top so we can reach him.

Lizzie:  Fire? Is he a holocaust? Oh don’t hurt him!

Lilith: Honey, you can’t make butter without a lot of flogging.  Do you want him back or don’t you?

Lizzie: I don’t know. In the beginning for us was the word. I suppose it makes sense for us to end it in the world without end. Bring him back, but I think I really fit in with the guys at the convent, it’s my home now, so I’m going back there with Agatha.  AE is nothing to me.

Lilith: Oh honey, he’s nothing to us too.  Trust me.

Azazel: Nothing, pray for us.

This is the appearance is on me.

 To heap shame on my own head is all the satisfaction I have left to offer to offended heaven. My story has drawn down these judgments: Let my confession atone—but, ah! what can atone for usurpation and a murdered child? a child murdered in a consecrated place? List, sirs, and may this bloody record be a warning to future tyrants!10:37 pm

I’m soft.  I’ve gone soft. Look, can you see me? It is so hard to see myself as others see me. Look closer, look at my head. Below I’m a mess, but my eyes are still here, ayin tachat ayin.  Oh I am punished. This must be hell. Now I know what hell is. Yes I expected some obliteration, but must I pay such a high price for it?  Is it such a crime resurrection?  Is translation so horrible?  So loathsome? It’s not like I murdered a child or something; I should think the living would have some fun with it. Surprise, I’m back! There’s so much potential, and for the benefit of all, properly executed.  Except it’s hard to see me. That’s a problem. And I understand I smell like something murdered, but I’ve never smelt it myself. I’m here, though, you can see me. I’m like looking at some sort of dark animal at night. Or at a spider: all head, web body.  It’s not so bad.  My hell is in this life but it’s not so bad.  And I don’t have it in me to cause my own re-death so here we are. I’ll have to make do. Besides Lizzie will have my head if I dare show my face amongst the dead. Think of the vendetta. Well, history is to blame for that, I refuse to feel guilty.  Or what’s that other world?  She’ll make dope her hope, but perhaps I’m being rather a sentimentalist there.  But really, I’ve incurred too immense a debtorship for my enjoyment.  Well, a thing done is a thing done.  I’ll camp out here. Distractions. Burn something. It is rather nice to be back in some of my old haunts. Eternity is fine but I admit feeling a bit nostalgic for the present.

Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish.

The Twofold form Hermaphroditic: and the Double-sexed; The Female-male & the Male-female, self-dividing stood Before him in their beauty, & in cruelties of holiness! Shining in darkness, glorious upon the deeps of Entuthon. 8:47 pm

Scene [Tranquilla convent, in the back garden.  The sisters are preparing to receive a novice for initiation into the order.  St. Agatha and Sister Mary Peter wait with ten fingers locked for her to arrive. ]

St. Agatha:  Sister Mary Peter, have you seen my breasts?

Sister Mary Peter:  You left them in the rectory Reverend Mother, shall I retrieve them for you?

St. Agatha:  No, no.  No.  Nuisance they are anyway, really, although I do feel like I lose a charm every time I take them off.  Still, we have a new novice coming and it would be a waste of this whitewashed face and cool coif not to long to appear, well, complete.

Sister Mary Peter: It is a natural craving, Reverend Mother, but you’re looking splendid.  Dressed up to the nines.

St. Agatha.  Never mind, no time.  I can see her coming with my dexter optic!  O look who it is for the love of God! I thought they were dumping Martha on us and instead it’s Lizzie Twigg!  How are you at all?  What have you been doing with yourself? [kiss] and delighted to [kiss] see you!

Lizzie Twigg:  Hello Agatha.  I would have been here sooner but there was all that barbed wire.

St. Agatha:  We do like to cloister ourselves here!  But never mind never mind.  No hurry, my dear sister soul.  I’m just so happy you’re not Martha!  So vindictive for what she can’t get.  Oh my child!  So, here you are, giving up your desire to aid gentlemen in literary work.

Lizzie Twigg:  Yes, I’m done with men.  I loved an Aeon and that ended badly.  Felt like I was drowning half the time.  Now I want to dedicate myself to somebody more, I don’t know, along the straight and narrow.  Linear minded.  Gets us from then to when.

St. Agatha:  Well as a fellow bride of Christ you will have that, even the calendar starts with him, to some end point.  So, let’s have a look at you.  Nice well-filled hose, though they are a bit down around the ankle.

Sister Mary Peter:  Voice like a pick axe, no good for the choir.  Are you lame?

Lizzie Twigg:  No.  My boots are a bit tight though.

St. Agatha:  You might have a high arched instep.

Lizzie Twigg: Um.  I have a question.  I’ve heard things about the sisters here.  That some of you get a bit, well, odd.  I’ve heard about some sisters licking pennies all the time, and wanting to smell rock oil, and all kinds of.  Is this, is this true?

St. Agatha: It’s only the virgins who go mad in the end.  I take it you’re?

Lizzie Twigg: Not. No.

St. Agatha.  I thought not.  You have that I’m all clean come dirty me look.  Now, when was the start of your last menstrual period?  Must have been within the past couple of days.

Lizzie Twigg:  Today.  And it’s awful.  Feels a ton weight.  How did you know?

St Agatha:  The plants are withering.  And the fiddle strings have all snapped.

Sister Mary Peter:  The milk is turning too.

St. Agatha:  Sister Mary Peter, go get St. Patricia, she can coagulate Miss Twigg’s blood.  Now Miss Twigg, we’ll stop your menstruation for now, but you’ll have to get into step with the rest of us.  We all bleed together according to the moon.

Lizzie Twigg:  I’m sorry.  I mean, I don’t mean to be rude or question is it all a fake or anything but, none of you look like, well, like the menstruating type.  No offense.  How many women?

St. Agatha:  Listen sister, we feel it ourselves too, ok, all of us together.  We can be a pack of devils when it’s coming on, I can tell you, especially Sister Mary Peter!

Lizzie Twigg:  She’s a hot little devil all the same.  We were girlfriends at school you know.

St. Agatha:  Oh were you?  And how do you find her now?

Lizzie Twigg:  Well back then she was yours for the asking!  And not to pick holes in her appearance or anything, but she does have fewer teeth than before.

St. Agatha:  Never you mind that now.  We all have bodies, we all have curves inside our deshabillé, but if you are to undertake a novitiate with us you’ll find within our walls sanctity and corporeality intermingle.  Bring your agenbite of inwit, but don’t forget your frillies for Raoul, honey, He likes them both.  Now come with me child, that’s a lovely shirt shining beneath your what? But we must get on with dressing each other for the sacrifice.

Beseeching her to intercede for them.

Oh, drink to Mary we believe that without sin she didst conceive. Teach us Mary how thus believing, we can sin without conceiving.Holy Mother Public Relations, Inc.
10th Heaven
Empyrean

Meeting Minutes

Date:  June 26
Time:  8:22 pm
Location:  10th Heaven conference room C, Empyrean building
Purpose:   Intervention for Mary Star of the Sea, The Virgin of Virgins, etc.

Attendees:  

Mary Star of the Sea, Holy Mary, Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother inviolate, Mother undefiled, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most prudent, Virgin most venerable, Virgin most renowned, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most faithful, Mirror of justice, Seat of wisdom, Cause of our joy, Spiritual vessel, Vessel of honor, Singular vessel of devotion, Mystical rose, Tower of David, Tower of ivory, House of gold, Ark of the covenant, Gate of heaven, Morning star, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Help of Christians, Queen of Angels, Queen of Patriarchs, Queen of Prophets, Queen of Apostles, Queen of Martyrs, Queen of Confessors, Queen of Virgins, Queen of all Saints, Queen conceived without original sin, Queen assumed into heaven, Queen of the most holy Rosary. Queen of the family, Queen of Peace, Queen who forgets her limits, Queen a little volatile, Queen who sometimes has Blackouts, Queen found Puking and Shitfaced Drunk just outside of Conference Room C not 6 hours ago. And others who wish to remain anonymous. [Lizzy Twigg, Cassandra, Joseph, Anne, Jesus]

Agenda:

1.  Gently, oh so very gently introduce Mary to the possibility that she might have a slight, hardly noticeable really, not even anything to worry about, issue with drinking just a bit more than she ought.

2.  If Mary seems at all receptive, which would be an enormous step on its own, introduce her to the 12 steps.  Gently or we’re totally screwed.

Discussion: 

1.  Lizzy T. explained to Mary that she might consider becoming Our Lady of Temperance and C. added that Our Lady of Perpetual Kindness can be rather an angry drunk.  Mary expressed that C. is a washed up hack not to be believed and Lizzy T. is a literary groupie whore who is probably stoned off her ass right now as we speak.

2.  J. attempted an explanation of his feelings concerning the state of martial affairs and a little more encouragement in the bedroom might be nice.  I mean, it’s not the size of the wave that counts.  Mary suggested J. get back to taking meeting minutes in the kiddie pool and honey, it’s the size of the wave.  It’s always the size of the wave.  Besides, the motion of J.’s ocean is a drop in the bucket to somebody who’s come face to face with a tsunami.

3.  Mary wanted to know who the hell invited her mother.  A. said who said she wanted to be here she had better things to do.  Mary said then go do them.  A. said Mary was giving her an anxiety attack and she is rude and all she’s ever does is damage.  Mary said A. is a controlling hypochondriac who can’t see past her own narcissism to realize that this colossal waste of time is not about her for Christ’s sake.

4. Jesus C. said what the hell is going on here.  Mary said Jesus get back to your father and stop appearing suddenly as if from nowhere.  Jesus C. said big words from somebody who just showed up on the belly of a South American turtle.  A. said in her day children didn’t talk to their mothers like that and no wonder Jesus C. turned out rotten given the upbringing he had.

Action Items:

1. Lizzie T. suggested we discuss the 12 steps another time.  Mary said we can shove the 12 steps right up our power greater than ourselves.

2. C suggested we should give it up now and save ourselves.  She was overruled.

3. Jesus C. will turn all the wine back into water.

 
 
Minutes typed by: Joseph
Approved by:  Unapproved
 

They didn’t want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises.

Poor Joseph, God is a hard act to follow.5:13 pm

[Scene: Just after hours at the offices of Holy Mother Public Relations, Empyrean Building, Conference room whatsits. You know the one. Near whatdoyoucallhim. Around the ideal form of a conference room table sit Cassandra, Lizzy Twigg, Māyā, Banba, Jupiter, Mars, and Paddy Dignam. Mary, known to the world as the Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother inviolate, Mother undefiled, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most prudent, Virgin most venerable, Virgin most renowned, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most faithful, Mirror of justice, Seat of wisdom, Cause of our joy, Spiritual vessel, Vessel of honor, Singular vessel of devotion, Mystical rose, Tower of David, Tower of ivory, House of gold, Ark of the covenant, Gate of heaven, Morning star, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Help of Christians, Queen of angels, Queen of patriarchs, Queen of prophets, Queen of apostles, Queen of martyrs, Queen of confessors, Queen of virgins, Queen of all saints, Queen conceived without original sin, Queen assumed into heaven, Queen of the most holy Rosary, Queen of families, Queen of peace, and CEO of Holy Mother Public Relations Inc., is standing at the door irritated as it is enough already with the honorifics so just shut up for the love of Christmas and let her call it a day already.]

Mary: Ok, so.

Lizzie Twigg: [Effusively] Holy Mary, Mother of God, Blessed art thou among

Mary: Yes, Yes. Well. If you have all that you need I’ll just be

Lizzie Twig: Yes I think so. Would be nice if the light was a bit more ruby in color, but can’t have

Mary: Oh please, there are bigger disappointments to contend with. Believe me, I know all too well. Lighting is nothing. Thy will be done.

[Increasing luminosity of ruby light becomes gradually visible]

Lizzie Twigg: Thanks! That’s wonderful, thank you so much, blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy

Mary: [Exiting] Yes, great. Leaving. If I have to hear again about my fruitful womb I’ll rip it out myself and slap somebody with it, I swear to God I will.

Cassandra: Thank Jupiter she’s gone!

Jupiter: You’re welcome.

Cassandra: I’ve been dying to vent about her idiot son, thank Jupiter you thought of borrowing this room Lizzie, I don’t think I could stand another séance with Jesus as Stage Manager.

Jupiter: You’re welcome. Assistant Stage Manager. Is that why we aren’t on God’s stage?

Lizzie Twigg: Amen Cassandra. And Jupiter, well, that whole issue is better left unsaid for now. So, let’s get on with it then. We might need to change our placement around the table. Mars, Jupiter, you are sitting on the wrong side of Māyā.

Cassandra: Agreed. They are making mischief with the vibrations.

Māyā: मय सोन इस अन एक्ष्केल्लेन्त स्तगे मनगेर.

Mars: [Combative] But Buddha’s not Equity.

Banba: Krak!

Cassandra: Banba, that’s really unhelpful. Not that it matters, this séance isn’t going to work. Can you please return to human form so we can get on with it.

Banba: [Shedding black feathers everywhere and reappearing as a hag in a red cloak with red eyebrows and wailing.] Fine. But when you need somebody to fly through mirrors or some other nonsense don’t come flapping to me.

Paddy Dignam: [Only partially aware of his surroundings] Who are you people? What the hell is this? Did that bloody bird just turn into a woman?

Cassandra: Relax honey, you’re dead. It will be ok.

Paddy Dignam: Who’s dead? I’m no more dead than you are.

Cassandra: Oh sweetheart, believe me, you’ve kicked the bucket. You’re dead. You have ceased to be. You have shuffled off this mortal coil. You’re gone. Bereft of life. Resting in peace. Defunct. Deceased. Belly up. Worm food. Pushing up daisies. History. Passed over, on, and away. Expired. Croaked. Departed. Snuffed it. Bit it. Met your maker. Crossed over. Bought the farm. Checked out. Perished. Cut off. Extinct. Lifeless. Liquidated. Honey, they took the liberty of burying your body about six feet under and it’s currently being eaten by rats.

Banba: Decomposing nicely, I gather.

Māyā: हे इस सुफ़्फ़ेरिन्ग उन्देर अन इल्लुसिओन्. मय्बे गिवे हिं सोमेथिन्ग तो द्रिन्क ?

Cassandra: Would you like something to drink?

Paddy Dignam: Buttermilk

Māyā: दिस्गुस्तिन्ग.

Cassandra: Jupiter?

Jupiter: Son?

Mars: [Producing buttermilk] Here you go, you pansy.

Lizzie Twigg: Ok, people, can we get on with it. Banba, you can be a raven if you want, I don’t think it will disrupt the séance.

Banba: Krak!

Lizzie Twigg: Right. So we are making another attempt to bring back AE. He resurrected himself too long ago now for anybody’s comfort and he must be decomposing badly by now. Also, knowing him, he has plans to disrupt the great divide between the living and, well, us.

Cassandra: The dead.

Paddy Dignam: [Flabbergasted] I beg your parsnips, I’m not dead.

Cassandra: Yes, you are dead.

Paddy Dignam: I’m not!

Cassandra: Fine, don’t believe me. Whatever. Om Mani Padme Hum.

Lizzie Twigg: So the idea is to develop a window to the other side, so we might see AE as if in a mirror dimly, and perhaps persuade him to come back. Mr. Dignam here being newly deceased

Paddy Dignam: I’m not dead!

Lizzie Twigg: Being newly deceased Mr. Dignam will have a particularly lifelike etheric double, so he might be able to speak most clearly to AE and relay a message from us. Ideally we would need the finest man, with the finest purest character, the noblest, the truest.

Cassandra: But Dignam will have to do.

Lizzie Twigg: Well, yes. So, Cassandra, are you ready?

Cassandra: [While fluttering her hands] Oh AE, returned falsely to mortal haunts, sun of our morning, fleet be your foot on the bracken: AE of the beamy brow. Wail Banba with the wind.

Banba: Krak!

Māyā: लूक, अ दिं मिर्रोर, इ सी हिं !

Lizzie Twigg: AE! Ok, Mr. Dignam, stick your head in there and tell him to come back!

Cassandra: We call upon the etheric double of Paddy Dignam to speak his message to the living.

Paddy Dignam: [Inserting his head into the mirror] Alf! Alf Bergan! If you see my son tell him my boots are behind the commode!

Cassandra: Oh Christ, haul him back in. I told you this wouldn’t work.

That which I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be.

Within my memory is fixed -- and now moves me -- your dear, you kind paternal image when, in the world above, from time to time you taught me how man makes himself eternal; and while I live, my gratitude for that must always be apparent in my words. 2:16 pm

Scene: [Around the ideal form of a table sit Cassandra, Caesar, Thoth, Lizzie Twigg, Brunetto Latini, Mother Dana, and Little John.  The theatre is darkened and an appropriate number of candles are burning with an inward light alongside several vestals’ lamps.  Peatsmoke rises from the trapdoor along with wafts of incense made from opoponax and violets.  Rest suddenly possesses the discrete vaulted cell, rest of warm and brooding air.]

Lizzie Twigg:  Right.  Thank you all for coming.

Little John:  [Drunk, a little dumb] When are we getting paid?

Cassandra:  Why is he here?  His breath is harming the vibrations.  And are those birthday candles?

Lizzie Twigg:  Yes, they seemed appropriate.  Don’t mind Little John, I found him vomiting in the greenroom and we needed one more body.  Seven is the perfect number for a séance and I am determined to get it right this time.  So let’s get started.  Æ is loose among the living, he’s only just managed to go undetected, though just barely.  So far he has appeared in Scylla and Charybdis, but there is no telling where he’ll turn up next so we have to get him back.  Thoth, am I speaking too quickly?

Thoth:  No, I’m recording it all perfectly, thanks.  Learned from Chitragupta.

Cassandra:  We won’t get him back.

Lizzie Twigg:  He’s coming back.  Now, be prepared for paradoxes.  He is alive but he is also dead.  His body has regenerated and though he appears normal, he is greatly decayed.  But from looking he is what he was; his moles still appear in their usual places, but he is a bit soft.  Also, his molecules are shuttling to and fro much too rapidly.  Mother Dana, we will need your help to repair him when we get him back.

Cassandra:  We won’t get him back.

Caesar:  You said that already.

Mother Dana: I can weave and unweave bodies and reconcile him to himself, but I’m not sure what to do about sharpening him up.

Lizzie Twigg:  Well, we’ll cross that Rubicon when we come to it.  First, there can be no reconciliation if there has not been a sundering.  Should be simple after that.

Caesar:  [Simply] You think it’s so easy.

Cassandra: [Easily]  Down, boy.  Life was hard for us all.  No need to get worked up about it now you’re dead.

Caesar: [Deadly] Vixen.  Whore.  Who listens to you?  Your kind sickens me.

Little John: [vomits under the table] Shagart! Shagart!

Lizzie Twigg:  Bear with me people.  When Æ resurrected he took my heart with him.

Thoth:  What did it weigh?

Lizzie Twigg: And I want him back.  Besides, I may see myself as I sit here now, but by reflection from that which then I shall be.  And that future which casts its shadow before includes Æ.

Cassandra:  But this is eternity, honey, there is no future.  The future is the conjoined twin sister of the past.  That which was, is.  That which may come to be, is.  It’s an all-at-onceness, sweet girl, nothing more.

Lizzie Twigg:  Exactly.  And he’s not here.  My is, is missing an aeon.

Cassandra:  I warn you, Lizzie, bring him back and he will crave the world of the living.  But you won’t bring him back.

Brunetto Latini:  Dear Twigg, when he returns you must reassure him that he will live on in his work.  Glory gives the wise man a second life; that is to say, after his death the reputation which remains of his good work makes it seem as if he were still alive.

Cassandra:  It won’t be enough.

Lizzie Twigg:  [Tossing off a glass of brandy neat] Please, let’s get started.  Where there is reconciliation, there must have been first a sundering.

Caesar:  You said that already.

Those literary ethereal people.

Lizzie Twigg is fundementially theosophagusted over the whorse proceedings.1:33 pm

[Scene:  Around the ideal form of a table sit Æ., Lizzie Twigg, the Reverend Dr. Salmon, Cassandra, and a Wizard.  The stage is darkly lit and the theatre is neither over heated nor chilly but at a comfortable temperature as typically a séance releases an unusual amount of magnetism, thus the room generally becomes warmer than ordinary.  The shades of the living like good ventilation too, so keep that in mind.  On a side table a buffet brunch waits congealing for any hungry living soul which may come. Today’s menu includes nut steak, weggebobbles cooked in soda, fruit, two headed octopus, eyes of cow, and poached eyes on ghost.]

Æ: Those cow eyes are following me everywhere I go. Right.  Let’s get started, shall we.  Five of us today, not an ideal number.  I would have prefered seven or something occult like 13, more symbolic.

Rev. Dr. Salmon:  Take yourself in hand, Æ, you can’t have everything.  Am I right Miss Twigg?

Lizzie Twigg:  Not saying a word.  Just taking it all in.

Cassandra:  It is easier with one medium but we appear to have two.  Well, as long as he remembers who is running the show, we can’t have the energies dividing.  Now, the purpose of today’s séance is to attract a living spirit Æ might possess long enough for his astral body to re-enter the physical world.

Wizard:  Metempsychosis?

Æ: No, resurrection.  I’ll be needing my body which I understand will regenerate around me.

Rev. Dr. Salmon:  Hold on a minute.  That body was tinned long ago, you’ll smell like a bad egg, you can’t put an egg back into the shell, the genie is not going to fit back into the bottle, once you get it out it’s hard to get it back in.

Cassandra: Please, too many images scrambled.  Let’s keep clear, yes?

Æ: My vegetative body will be attracted by my active astral body and through the vibration of molecules the phenomena of density and apparent weight will collect particles together along with an unseen mass of electrical and magnetic matter, and from that my physical body will form within the living world.  Easy.  Scientific.

Lizzie Twigg:  I answered the wrong ad.  I could have picked the other gentleman who wanted aid in literary work.  Or even the riding companion one.  That sounds pretty good now.  I could use a good belt of booze.

Æ:  Shall we venture now into the untrodden woods to carve the future ways?

Wizard:  Æ, Æ beware of the day!  For dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, but man cannot cover what God would reveal:  ‘Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, and coming events cast their shadow before.

Lizzie Twigg:  [Agitated, her stockings loose over her ankles.  I detest that.  Tasteless.] Yes!  Remember, time put by a myriad fates that her day might dawn in glory; death made wide a million gates so to close her tragic story.  I took it all in.  Didn’t you pay attention to your own words?  Why go back?  Here, there, eternity, temporality.  What difference does it make to us?  We have left the day to day.

Rev. Dr. Salmon:  I say, it is feeling quite close in here.

Æ:  We are doing this.  I want to do this.  I’ll get a different séance circle, but I am going back.

Lizzie Twigg:  This isn’t what you thought it would be, is it Æ?  There is nothing dreamy here, or cloudy, or symbolistic.  You wanted the light of lights.  You still do.  You miss wanting what you didn’t get.  So you retreat back into wanting.  You want to be the head upon which the ends of the world have forgotten to come.

Cassandra:  Please, you are disturbing the vibrations.  Let us join hands and begin.

Lizzie Twigg:  Fine.  But why anybody would want to entrap themselves into the present moment amongst the unenlightened.  This will never work.

Cassandra:  Believe me, we will channel the living and Æ will go back.

Wizard:  Down, soothless insulter!  I trust not the tale.

Cassandra:   Please.  You don’t believe me?  Tell me something I haven’t heard before.  Ok.  Moving on.  We call on the living spirit of the one who has been hovering near.  I feel you.  I know you are here.  Make a sign to us.  One click for yes and two clicks for no.

Æ:  Anything?

Cassandra:  I heard something but it was more a mouse than a click.

Wizard:  The war drum is muffled.

Cassandra:  I call upon you, you know who you are, to draw near.  Lean in honey, we can hear you breathing.

Lizzie Twigg:  Look at Æ!

Wizard:  Oh!  mercy dispel yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!  Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, and his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.

Cassandra:  Oh holy Zeus I didn’t believe myself this time but look!  Æ?  Can you hear us Æ?

Æ:  Click.

Lizzie Twigg:  Where did he go?  Oh Jesus Fucking Christ, I swear to stage manager, nothing good can come from this.

God: [from the booth on the god mic]  Ok hold.  Jesus, what in my name is going on down there?  Where is Æ?

Jesus: I’m not sure.  He’s gone.  I think they resurrected him.

God:  He can’t be resurrected.  This is supposed to be a dress rehearsal, and people please stay on script and stick to the blocking.  The light cues were a mess toward the end of that.  Jesus, get Æ back and let’s go again from the top.

Jesus:  I can’t get him back, he’s been resurrected.  Like Lazarus, remember?

God:  [On the god mic]  How can I forget that debacle?  Can still smell his stench.

Rev. Dr. Salmon:  How was I?  I felt a little off.

Cassandra:  You were very convincing, believe me.

Rev. Dr. Salmon:  I didn’t get to say my speech.  The dreamy cloudy gull, waves o’er the waters dull.

Jesus:  Um, God?  Now that Æ is loose in the world, well, that’s going to throw a wrench into Scylla and Charybdis.

God:  [on the god mic]  Not our problem.  Jesus Christ where’s the holy spirit?  Why we are going with a director we can’t keep track of, only I know.  Well, we don’t have time for this.  Let’s recast Æ and move on.  Is Arius busy?  Did he get over his, well, issue?  Maybe call his agent.  Let it be done.  Don’t forget we have casting for Circe coming up and tech for that will be a nightmare.