Thursday, February 28, 2013

full circle

the celebration made a vacant lot of sense.
we returned to our chambers.
deep breathing, yawning, a little more staring into the screen,
and then, at last, stretching out,
on one's back, in one's darkness.
indeed, the celebration made total sense.
checked a few copies of the tao te ching
out from the local library branch.
turned on the radio and listened to the news of an hour.
it was fragmented, splintered, and totally out of whack with the season.
almost impossible to communicate thru these gale force winds.
the next day was quieter.
most of the citizens were, for the most part, in agreement.
the public lectures were clearer and the private funding was tidier.
they wanted to start preparing for the next celebration, 
but cooler heads among us prevailed, thank heaven.
we returned to our cellars.
cleaned up, 
changed clothes, 
gazed out the window for a very long time, 
listened to a few pieces of music, 
took care of a couple relatively minor household affairs.
it felt good to have it behind us, and it felt ok to have it ahead of us.
"feelings" may not have a whole lot to do with it,
but we tend to work with the "materials" that are closest to hand.
in the era of globalized commerce this is no longer totally necessary, 
so we seem old-fashioned at times- 
might even seem a little like sticks in the mud.
turned on the radio and listened to the news of an hour.
a few minor adjustments, a few massive upheavals.
most of the city-folk were, for the most part, in agreement.
we shared our intentions even though we knew they would probably never play out.
that's just as well, the tao counsels.
the celebration made absolutely no sense.




Wednesday, February 27, 2013

specialized terminology

I was in art class the other day and the instructor, Mrs. Reginald, kept talking about the "vanishing point."  This was at the Goodman Community Center, right across the street from the Badwoman Community Center.  They are rival Community Centers, one might say.  They adopt different approaches.  Opposite approaches, occasionally.  One day ten years ago, for shits and giggles, they agreed to alter their respective marquees for 24 hours.  Hence, the place where I'm taking my painting class became the Badboy Community Center and the one across the street became the Goodgirl Community Center.  People in the community seemed to like it- well, at least they liked it on Facebook.  I know, I know, I know- Facebook data isn't necessarily gospel truth, but still- I'm just sayin'.

In any case, I'm there in class, and Mrs. R keeps going on and on about the "vanishing point."  I start to get the impression that it's a pretty spectacular and maybe even critical point in the creative process.  During break, I sidled over to the cabinet/bookshelf combination where all the supplies and other stuff are heaped up, and had a quick peek at the dictionary- there were two definitions, and I'm going to share them now with the sort of readers who are interested in this sort of thing:  (for the ones who aren't, kindly skip over the next couple of sentences and continue making your merry way thru this narrative.)

1.  A point in a drawing or painting at which parallel lines seem to meet as represented in perspective.

2.  A point at which something disappears or ceases being.

For instance, I was sketching Lake Michigan.  I don't think there's anything so bizarre about that!  But then again, I'm "living" in Madison now, and probably should be spending my hard earned free time sketching either Lake Monona or Mendota- these are the major bodies of water around here that most community members "like" and appreciate.  (yes, both lakes have their own Facebook page, I'm afraid.)

In any case, there I was, merrily sketching out the preliminary outline and grid, listening to Mrs. R drone on and on at great length about the vanishing point.  It's a good point, I get it- a fantastic and most likely unavoidable point!  But she kept insisting, more or less, that we take it down into the very heart of our painting.  "That's what Van Gogh always did" or "That's what keeps Gerhard Richter going after all of these years" or "Bob Rauschenberg certainly didn't mess around when it came to the vanishing point in his combines."

But combines and aren't the same thing as paintings, Mrs. R, I piped up.
No they are aren't, young man- no indeed.  They are not.
(I should mention perhaps that Mrs R is about 80 years old)
So the vanishing point is probably on a different plane, also.
Yes it is, punk ass- yes in every sense of the term.
So then I need to go all the way back to the beginning?
I'm afraid so, simple fellow.  All the way back to basic drawing and coloring.  It meets on Sunday afternoons at 4 o'clock.  At least 75 percent of the students are under 10 years of age.
But Mrs R!  Mrs R!  I'm a middle aged man!  Indeed, some people might even put me in the next bracket up!
You mean old age, wise ass?
That's one way of putting it, yes.
Well, don't worry about it!  Those kids will teach you way more than I ever could!
Ya think, Mrs. R?
I know, sir- now get back to work!  (leaning over my work in progress)  It appears as though you have entirely disregarded the vanishing point!
I'm sorry, Mrs. R- where should I insert it?
(continuing to study the drawing in silence for a couple of minutes)  
(points to a place near the lower left hand corner) Right here, would be my first guess.
That's the best you can do, Mrs. R?
Hey, I'm still figuring out this perspective business as I go, just like you.

Still not entirely satisfied, I grunted some form of assent, and huddled over my sketchpad, wondering if I could absorb the costs of a second art class on Sunday.  Mrs. R made some good points- there's no or at least very little question of that- the vanishing point is probably a critical part of any well made composition.  I'd been drawing and sketching on my own for several decades with very little success.  It was only in the last couple years I'd made the leap into actual painting.  It was a reckless move, probably.  I still hadn't mastered the basics.  I guess I was just tired of the pencil smudges all over my hands, face, and clothing.  True, now there were paint smudges, but those are at least a little more  interesting.  I know, I know, I know, interesting is a terrible word to use in a situation like this- I'm just trying to get thru this art anecdote with as little fuss as humanly possible- that's a strange thing to admit, especially when you already know that I've based my entire life's purpose on the goofy Goodman Community Center.  Wait.  That's unfair.  It's not goofy.  Scratch that.  It's entirely serious.  It's a serious Center that likes to change its name on occasion to provide the outlying community with unrestrained shitting and giggling.  That's perhaps a crass way to put it, but look- you already know I'm back to the basics.  That includes my creative writing endeavors as well.  I was in advanced poetry, but guess what?  I'm back in basic storytelling for children!  Mrs R. convinced me that I was already way too far out on the limb.  I needed to come back to the trunk, to the core, so to speak.  She advised me to start this goofy blog and volunteer at the central library branch when it reopens this autumn.  I walk past it every now and then, gazing up at the cranes, the equipment, the concrete, the glass, the pipes, the small army of workers.  It's no minor job, as anyone who has also seen it underway will attest to.   


  













the usual suspects

was there truth in what he was saying?
only a tiny amount.
and then what was the rest, then?
a different version of truth.
what about the little episode regarding life in the wilderness?
an exaggeration of sorts- he was technically living in a friend's pick-up truck.
like in the classic "I sorta need a pick-me-up" kind of way?
more or less.
wow.  musta been a pretty good friend.
decent friend.
he's always been pretty lucky in that department, hasn't he?
that ain't the only department.
yeah- I hear ya.
yeah- good- because I'm speakin' to ya.
we're the only two people in this room- who else would you be speaking to, keng?
I dunno- some sort of performance art, maybe?
that's a new one!
a curve ball.
hey- a curved ball- like a planet!
a rough-hewn sphere, as lao might have it.
a plan, a planet, a plant, and an almost flawless plane of existence simultaneously- 
you mean the pick-up truck episode?
indeed- you're getting pretty quick on the uptake.
he parked on a country road behind the cracker barrel that went out of business.
before it went out of business?
as it was on its way out of business.
oh yeah- now I'm remembering- it tried to go 24 hours?
it did go 24 hours, calv- there was no trying about it.
was there truth in what he said to his boss at the taxi cab company?
an increasingly smaller amount.
(short pause)
so- a decreasing amount, you're sayin'?
correct.
why not just say "decreasing", then, keng?
would you prefer that?
(short pause)
no, I'm not saying that, necessarily, either.
something needs to be said?  necessarily?  as in "absolutely necessary"?
did I say that keng?  did I say that?  now you're just putting words in my mouth!
well, you're a fictional character, calv- what else could I possibly do?
you could let me speak for myself!
(long pause)
you're right, calv.  you're right.  I'm sorry.  proceed.  speak for yourself.
(pause)
thank you, keng.  ok.  uh... let's see... where were we, exactly?
let me think for a second... ok, I think you were asking about the country road behind the old cracker barrel.
oh right, right... and the decreasing amount of truth with the guy at the taxi cab company.
that's right, calv.  we're back on track.  proceed.  take advantage of this rare forward momentum.
good idea, keng.  was he lonely?  living in a pick-up truck out in the desolate countryside?
well, it wasn't necessarily desolate- and no, not lonely in the slightest, as far as I understood.
and how far is that, keng?
fairly far.
(pause)
meaning, maybe, farther than most?
no, I wouldn't say that.
anyways- not lonely at all, then?
no sir.
I guess he still had his friend who was letting him live in the pick-up.
yeah, that was definitely a factor.  he had a small fur-covered domestic animal also.
you mean rogers?
I do mean rogers. 
oh wow- I didn't realize that- sure, that can make all the difference.
and it did, calv.  it did.
you mean rogers more or less saved his life?
well, I'm not sure I'd go that far- but he was pretty good company.  did you ever meet him, by chance?
you mean rogers?
I do mean rogers.
huh... let me think for a second... wow, I'm not sure- was he the orange one?
there were a couple of orange ones over the years.
ok then... was he super shy?
on occasion.
was he the one who never got upset about anything?
yeah, that was rogers.  indeed.  he was a real peaceful fellow.
and he lived with doug in the pick-up for all of those months?
he did indeed.
wow.  he must have been a pretty good friend.
decent friend.
he's always been pretty lucky in that department, hasn't he?
that ain't the only department, calv.
yeah- I hear ya.
that's bizarre- because I ain't even speakin' to ya.
ok then, mr. performance art.
yeah, I guess you're pretty much onto me, calv.
it's been awhile, friend.
it has.
are you still drivin' a cab, by the way?
no.  I pretty much sucked at it.
yeah- somehow that doesn't surprise me.
cab driving is very complex activity- not everyone understands that.
this was in your hometown?
yeah, st. louis.
were you ever in danger?
all the time.
you just got used to it?  pretty much- as much as someone in that situation can.  danger from customers?  no, more danger from other drivers- from traffic.  from weather conditions.  sleep deprivation.  all the usual suspects....................................................................................................................................................................................................you didn't last long, you were sayin'?.....................................................yeah- only a couple of months.........................you 

       weren't                 

                 paying 


                   rent 


            at 

              the 







                               time?



correct- I was residing in the back of a pick-up.  with rogers?  with rogers.  he was an adorable fellow.  yeah- of all the cats we've had over the years, he's the one that seemed to make the most distinct impression on people.  he was so mellow!  he was incredibly mellow.  "mellow" doesn't even begin to describe it.  "peaceful", maybe?  oh, completely.  more than that, even.  an actual peacemaker.  sometimes other cats might come up to him, hissing, spitting, whatever- the dude would just close his eyes and start purring!  totally relaxed!  not a twitch of tension or fear in his body!  yeah, I saw that a couple times.  he musta been pretty good company for doug during those months in the pick-up.

he was.
yeah, I'll bet.
good communication between those two, I imagine.
good support, also.
a good sense of humor as well.
shared goals, shared intentions.
a shared appreciation of keeping things as simple as possible.
yeah, meowsers tend to be good at that.
little rogers sorta took it to the next level, I think.























  












Tuesday, February 26, 2013

commissioned

doug was not above admitting that there was indeed an initial period of confusion.  I know this because he admitted it to me.  he received a commission that he was afraid he might not be able to see through to completion.  (as ridiculous as this might sound, he admitted this also.)  

doug, a composer, received a commission from the geological society at the uw madison to come up with the score for a documentary feature it was planning to release in the summer of 2019.  the working title of the film was black star.  the working title of the score was black star salsa.  doug was not above confiding to me in complete confidentiality that he had no idea what a black star even was.  would there be sufficient time for research?  no, there probably wouldn't.  would the internet itself ultimately be able to deliver the goods?  probably not.  there was a period of confusion, verging at times close to panic.  so many possible strategies!  so many potential approaches!  I told doug, over and over, to just go with his musical instincts.  he found this advice rather unhelpful, and was not above gently letting me know that he felt this way.  we'd been friends for quite a while.  I realize that a statement such as that, coming at the critical point of the narrative, is non-committal and vague, and most likely not appreciated by a largely anonymous readership.  nonetheless, for the time being, I think I shall stay within those parameters.  after all, like it or not, I had been sworn to absolute secrecy.


a star is a funny thing.  an oblique, jagged shape, seldom found out in nature, and not always recognized right away when it is.  certain crystals, perhaps, some marine life, some plant life, some molecular structures, something to do with the cornea, maybe- doug simply didn't know where to begin!  a film score is a funny thing also.  people expect instrumentation.  they crave cinematic mystique.  I suggested that he look through an old book of photographs centered around mining technology of the early industrial era.  astonishingly, he told me that this was the best advice he had ever received in his life.  I don't think he was being sarcastic, but with doug it is certainly not always perfectly obvious.


gears, pulleys, pistons, whistles, furnaces, coal cars, ladders leading to nowhere- grinders, sandpaper, forklifts, millions of uniform parts, echo chambers- drills of all sizes, dredges, sledgehammers, conveyors.  miraculously, the black star salsa gradually began to take shape.  it was a soft star, a muted star, a "strange community" star, one might call it.


it appeared as though the documentary would be finished on time.  hooray!  did this put extra pressure on doug?  not one bit.  he had assumed all along that it would be finished according to schedule.  he was delighted to inform his friends and family that he had rediscovered his groove.  many of them didn't believe him at first, and not without solid reasons- doug had been confused about these things many, many times over the years.  his groove was not well-worn, but neither was it brand spanking new.  I guess it's fair to say that, all in all, it was your typical 21st century groove.  


the documentary was released, it was a box office favorite, although the score was more or less passed over without comment by the more prominent critics. again, doug was prepared for this, and simply returned to his photographs.  I have no idea where he is now or what in god's name he's doing.  it was a bizarre little friendship for both of us.






too easy

she and I together again, 
back in the deep forest, 
communicating with the prospect of 

nothingness.  old friends, reunited.
cool drinks in hand, laughing uproariously,
plucking old re-purposed banjos.

any note will suffice, she says.
any method or schedule.
sounds too easy, I comment.
it is, she says.  
that's the problem!
again, laughing wildly.
wandering around alone near the gravel pit.
the old river, the floodplain,
the buddhist memorial,
animals.

such basic realities!
(whatever that means.)
not sure.
spirals, coils, matrices, atlases.
meandering alone along sandbars.
tiny towns, some of them nameless,
if you can still believe such a vertiginous prospect
in this particularly "weary unto death" day and age-

sorry.

hey- let's go see what the "next" vista offers!
I agree- we pack foodstuffs, a few books,
the banjo, get in the car, feral, shivering, 
gradually pull back out onto the next 
unlit system of inter-states...

a lot of time passes.
we hover alone with our thoughts.
when we speak next, there's the distinct sense
that something has shifted in this part of the country.  

she and I together again,
late at night,
toying with the prospect of mineral water.
an old issue, standard practice,
re-invested by the pure sentience of
absolute and semi-perfect circles of strangers.

anonymous.

it stays better longer that way,
the hand-painted sign seems to indicate.
we mull it over in solitude-
don't wanna keep making the same stupid mistakes
for the rest of our ridiculous lives.
it's too easy, someone comments.
but this time, no "identifiable crisis."
we sigh, clear our throats,
sink back into even deeper pockets 
of urbanized wilderness.

unnamed, uncharted, understated, reflective...

(a little reluctant to admit that we had been at this precise
crossroads just a couple millenia earlier.)







  

Monday, February 25, 2013

slipstream

uneven?
memories.
whoa- you're gonna have to explain that one, calv.
ok- "more of me"- you see what I mean now?
but I thought you were referring to memories of the future.
I was.
in the same way that you sometimes predict what might possibly occur in the past?
gotcha.
gave ya.
became ya.
followed ya on twitter.
on pinterest.
what strange little icons these graphic designers come up with these days!
like a river stone becoming polished over the course of several millenia, until it's a mere grain of sand, and then, one day, out of the blue, simply nothing.
but what about that old adage about matter not ever being created or destroyed-
huh- that's a new one to me.
yeah- similar to the ones about essence and energy.
if you say so.
I say so.
in the same way that...
uneven.
unever?
in evening.
uneventful?
not really.
eventful?
well... only in a manner of speaking.
what was that you said the other night about language never being created or destroyed?
I have no idea, keng.
can you take a peek back over the transcript?
don't have it with me at present.
ya can't just check your handy little electronic device?
don't have it with me at present.
ya mean to say that you haven't had it surgically embedded into the palm of your hand yet?
not really.
but symbolically?
not, not even symbolically, calv.
are you disappointed?
wait wait wait- which of us is speaking right now?
I thought it was your turn-
reappearing?  is mistinal still on the line?
no- she had an appointment with nathalie.
weird.  I thought she was going to india with her cousin later this morning.
no- the cousin backed out.
so she's going alone?
she is.
oh, I get it- in a manner of speaking.
no- in real life.  lol.
what do you mean by embodied?
similar to inbodied, inboxed, outsourced, reversed, and embedded-
ya mean like the river stone you were talking about a minute ago?
precisely.
precisely?
precisely.
precisely.
and what are the italics meant to indicate this time?
emphasis.
emphasis?
emphasis.
sorta like "in particular phases"?
exactly.
maybe even a little "unnecessary?
sorta like memories?
of what?
something along the lines of infinite hunger.
like that book by david foster wallace?
no- maybe more like oblivion.
that one was better received?
by the critics or readers?
depends on the media outlet.
or the inlet, for that matter.
oh yeah, there's always that.
or the islands.
the isthmuses.
the peninsulas.
the archipelagos.
what was that you said about the earth never being technically created or destroyed-
or was it properly created or destroyed?
both and neither.
you little jester!
hey- I'm just taking my cues from the master!
you mean wallace?
no.
beckett?
no.
rumi?
no.
rilke?
no.
kafka?
no.
shakespeare?
no.
plato?
no.
garrison keilor?
no.
barthelme?
no.
salinger?
no.
miller?
which one?
the whole crowd of them!
no.
ok then- I give up!  which master?
uneventful.  unnecessary.
no- really?
only in a manner of speaking.
and then the next thing you're gonna tell me is that it's a just a subtle matter of emphasis.
like with italics, you mean.
that's precisely what I mean, keng.
and with discretion, of course.
well then, I guess then we finally understand each other at last.
maybe so.
you mean derrida?
wait wait wait- which one of us did you say was speaking just now?
I think it was mistinal's turn.
she's already en route to india, keng.
oh, fabulous.  that's just perfect.
so now you're being a little sarcastic, right?
maybe so.
whoa- you're gonna have to explain that one, sir.
ok- "less of me"- you see what I mean now?
but I thought you were referring to ancient memories of the imminent future.
I was.
in the same way that you sometimes predict what might possibly occur in the past?
gotcha.
gave ya.
became ya.
followed ya on twitter.
on spotify.
like a river stone becoming polished over the course of one or two seconds, until it's a mere bead of water, and then, one day, out of the blue, absolute nothingness.
you use that word a little too casually, keng.
you're right.  forgive me.
forgiven.
forsaken?
for no one.
that's too insular, keng.
but it's winter!  it's freezing!
liberating?
a little.
depends on how well you're dressed.
look, calv- a person learns about these things in wisconsin!
and what about in india?
a person learns different things there.
is that why mistinal's going there?
not sure.  I think maybe she just wants to see friends and family.
friends and family aren't here?
no, they're scattered all over the world.
oh, I see- one of those types.
I'm afraid so.
wants to reconnect with her childhood memories.
perhaps.
in a manner of...
speaking?
no-  dreaming.
huh- I like the new emphasis.
until you grow infinitely weary of it, that is-
hard to say, keng.
maybe so.
maybe you're right.
maybe not.
hard to say.
hard to gaze back over the vast terrain of water already in motion.


































Saturday, February 23, 2013

three orbits

vanishing?
no way, man.
no fooling around anymore.
what?!? fooling around is the only thing which allows us...
(pause)
yeah, aston, I'm here.
mistinal?
barely here.
walking thru walls again, fella?  floating down the proverbial liffey?
a ton of things to address in just a couple of minutes.
vanishing?
no way.
way.
no way.
mist and snow.
three orbits?
maybe.
we'll find out when we get there.
sweetheart, we're already there!
I'm not sure I like your tone, young lady.
too polished?
maybe.
reappearing?
it's possible.
back and forth, then, like a heartbeat?
steady as she goes, like a heartbeat.
mountains, canyons, rivers, glaciers?
all of that, yes.
and a heartbeat?
a heartbeat.
reliable?
relatively reliable.
can't get away from it.
just three orbits?
well... only in a manner of speaking.
which is what we're attempting-
I'd say we're succeeding- what about you, mistinal?
mistinal?
hey mistinal, you still on the line?
aston, do you know if mistinal is still on the line?
(pause)
does anyone around here know if mistinal is still on the line?
I'm here, people- sorry, had you on speakerphone for a minute.
no problem, misty.
yeah, welcome back to the orbit.
which one?
why don't you pick this time!
aw, c'mon, man!  I picked last time!  it's somebody else's turn!
ok then, vanishing- wanna take a turn?
wait wait wait- reappearing.
already?
already.
wow- those are some slippery orbits!
indeed.
have you named them, yet?
no.
do you want to?
not really.
three distinct orbits, you're sayin'?
only in a manner of speaking.
well, let's stop speaking for a minute and see what happens.
there's that tone again, vanishing.
sorry- I guess I'm not even aware when I'm doing it.
no problem- you'll learn.
ya think?
I think, therefore I wait.
wow.
wow indeed.
that's a strange position to take.
the world waits, does it not?  I'm just following suit.
the three orbits?
fixed.
but we haven't even identified them properly yet!
precisely.
precisely.
precisely.
precisely.
I adore them all.
cherish them all.
need them all.
study them all.
yeah, me too.
we're the same, then.
only in a manner of speaking.
only in that particular instance.
but it was a fabulous instance- there's no gainsaying that!
and then, when it vanishes...
and then, alas alas, when it reappears out of nowhere...
what were those four nature words you mentioned earlier?
uh, let me look back over the transcript...ok, mountains, canyons, rivers, glaciers- is that what you were referring to?
and then the heartbeat, of course.
(long pause)
oh sure...there's almost always the heartbeat...
three orbits, linked by three more, then by three more, etc.
countless orbits, you're sayin?
again misty, only in a manner of speaking.
infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood stages 1, 2, and 3, ancientry, and then a nice long restorative sleep...
with the heartbeat?
yeah, you can pretty much count on the heartbeat...
I will then.
mountains, canyons, rivers, glaciers, etc.
it all ends up in museums?
no, it usually ends up on the internet.
but it started out on the internet too!
that's one version of history, mistinal.
condensed version #780.
781 is supposed to be coming out sometime this april.
sweet.

















Wednesday, February 20, 2013

food pyramids

good friends, still trying to figure out what to arrange
in lieu of an actual readership:

"canoe the sangamon river?"
"indeed- canoe it with energy."
"its energy?"
"your energy."
"what about a combined form of energy?"
"you mean like 5 hour energy?"
"no, not a condensed form- a combined form."
"is there such an obvious difference?"
"you mean like organic vs. synthetic?"
"well, that's one possible conflict."
"canoe the sangamon river?  are you sure about that?"
"never been more sure about anything in my life."
"what about the ganges?"
"no, you'd be swallowed up by the ganges."
"not if I had the right guide."
"and where, pray, are you going to find "the right guide?"
"I know a guy from benares."
"great.  we all know a guy from benares."
"but this is a special guy."
"great.  we all know a special guy from benares."
"well, maybe I know mine a bit better.  maybe I actually trust him."
(long pause)
"he's canoed the ganges?"
"he's been doing it his whole life."
"he's canoed it with energy?"
"indeed- a combined and condensed form of energy."
"organic?  synthetic?"
"it depends on the particular outing."
"the ganges hasn't swallowed him whole yet?"
"well, I never said that, keng."
(pause)
"now what's that supposed to mean, calv?  you've gotta be clear about this!  our readership deserves and expects straight talk when it comes to delicate and potentially dangerous stuff like canoeing the ganges!" 
"you think the ganges is delicate?"
"no, I said canoeing the ganges is delicate."
"is there a difference?"
"massive difference."
"you think we should point this out to our readership?"
"it's totally obvious.  it doesn't need pointing out."
(pause)
"so where's this river guide now?  still in benares?"
"no, he lives in st. louis at present."
"st. louis? what in god's name is he doing in st. louis, missouri?"
"take a guess."
(pause)
"ok, then, he's probably leading tours on the mississippi."
"close, but no.  guess again."
"he's leading tours of the arch."
"even closer, but no- guess again."
"ok... he's visiting the arch almost every day by himself, contemplating the mystery."
"that's it, friend.  you nailed it."
"you've always had pretty weird friends."
"well, this guy takes the cake."
"what's his name, anyway?"
"micah."
"that doesn't sound like an indian name."
"it's not."
"but I thought you said he was from benares."
"he is- his parents wanted to mix things up a little bit."
"how old is he?"
"close to sixty."
"as in below sixty?"
"not sure.  somewhere around sixty, give or take."
"and he's still canoeing the ganges?"
"whenever he gets the chance, yes."
"so what then- you guys are gonna travel to india together?"
"maybe."
(pause)
"look, keng, it was your suggestion that I canoe the sangamon river, wasn't it?"
"yes."
"
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"well, I'm just taking it one little step further
"well, I'm just taking it one little step further.
"well, I'm just taking it one little step further."
"that won't just puzzle the readership?"
"no, they'll jump right on board- trust me!"
"stewards one?"
"stewards all."
"creatures of which particular earth?"
"the shared earth."
"the gored earth."
"any identifiable earth."
"some people carry it around in their pockets."
"you mean an odd collection of stones?"
"no, handpicked along the shore of lake michigan."
"when, exactly?"
"sometime before the so-called middle ages."
"just a hairsbreadth of difference there."
"yeah, that's already been pointed out hundreds of times."
"ice and snow."
"lazy mist gathers in pools outside of my window."
"yeah, I've noticed that."

and then, another awareness mercifully dawns on them, quietly, something to do with basic foodstuffs situated unevenly within semi-concentric circles.

"a wave form?"
"or particle.  it can be both."
"or neither?"
"or neither."
"are we still invested?"
"yes, we are."
(an extremely long pause.) 
"can't retrace the old lines that allegedly embraced the lost mystical libraries, no matter how much their magazines hugged the unlettered shore of vast cities."
"like benares?"
"that's one option."
"we can retrace the old lines, keng!"
"I disagree."
"no, you just want me to stick close to home!"
"consider the readership, calvin!"
"I am!  that's why I'm going to india!"
(extremely long pause)
(in a extremely quiet voice) "so it's decided, then?"
"no.     (extremely long pause)     that's what we're here to discuss, keng."
"people already know about canoeing the ganges."
"yeah, but they also already know about canoeing the sangamon."
"so what- you're saying that it doesn't make a significant difference?"
"it depends."
"depends on what?"
"depends on everything."
"including the state of the readership?"
"that would be included in the category of everything, yes." 
(extremely long pause)
"how are your energy levels these days, by the way?"
"they're under control."
"NOW WHAT KIND OF A CONVOLUTED ANSWER IS THAT?!?"
"nothing convoluted about it, keng.  simply that they're under control."
"WHAT CONTROL?  WHOSE CONTROL?"
"keng, please, lower your voice.  calm down.  it's ok.  when I say "they're under control" I only mean...that..."
"what, calvin?  WHAT?"
"look, I'm not gonna be able to answer your question properly if you keep raising your voice."
"this energy business seems to be a delicate matter."
"like the ganges, maybe."
"and the sangamon."
"and the arch."
"and the readership."
"and us- our relationship.  this thing we're trying to see in terms of past, present, and future."
"only one of which has any discernible bearing."
"not sure I agree with that."  
"we could spend our whole lives talking about this."
"would that be time well spent?"
"not sure."
"well then I guess I'm just gonna waste my life taking stabs in the dark."
"be my guest."
"ok, I will, then."
(long pause)
"try these lines on for size-
I think they go something like this:

"teeming with hunger for scattered-crumb-style wisdom,
lloyd mistook his career for a calling, and then, one rainy evening, wandering alone by the pier, abandoned like shell fragments and costume jewelry handouts, he traced these lines in wet concrete:

"footprints left not in sand,
but tapering off into the water itself-
bowed under the soft roar 
of the ever-tightening inter-state."

a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attention.
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attention
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attentio
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attenti
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attent
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's atten
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's atte
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's att
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's at
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's a
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's 
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment'
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment
a crescent moon calls out for a mere momen
a crescent moon calls out for a mere mome
a crescent moon calls out for a mere mom
a crescent moon calls out for a mere mo
a crescent moon calls out for a mere m
a crescent moon calls out for a mere 
a crescent moon calls out for a mer
a crescent moon calls out for a me
a crescent moon calls out for a m
a crescent moon calls out for a
a crescent moon calls out for
a crescent moon calls out fo
a crescent moon calls out f
a crescent moon calls out
a crescent moon calls ou
a crescent moon calls o
a crescent moon calls 
a crescent moon call
a crescent moon cal
a crescent moon ca
a crescent moon c
a crescent moon 
a crescent moo
a crescent mo
a crescent m
a crescent
a crescen
a cresce
a cresc
a cres
a cre
a cr
a c


"it doesn't make sense, cal."
"it won't attract the right audience."
"maybe if you could try writing about the crest of a wave."
"no, they've been thru all that before."
"so have I.  so have you."
"aren't we supposed to write about things we are remotely familiar with?"
"no, calv, we are not- it's our job to write about the bizarre."
"like the ganges?"
"the ganges is not bizarre in the least!"
"just when I thought my environmental studies degree was finally going to serve some tangible purpose!"
"finally safe at home from the knife blade of near endless trafficking, good friends, sitting down again, lamps switched off and con-versing in barely audible voices!"
"yeah, that sounds exactly like us."
"pretty much."
"you wanna waste your life with me?"
(long pause)
"isn't it already happening?"
"ok then- try these lines on for size:

"
"t
"th
"the 
"the c
"the cr
"the cre
"the cres
"the crest 
"the crest o
"the crest of
"the crest of a 
"the crest of a w
"the crest of a wa
"the crest of a wav
"the crest of a wave
"the crest of a wave r
"the crest of a wave re
"the crest of a wave rea
"the crest of a wave reap
"the crest of a wave reapp
"the crest of a wave reappe
"the crest of a wave reappea
"the crest of a wave reappear
"the crest of a wave reappears 
"the crest of a wave reappears o
"the crest of a wave reappears ou
"the crest of a wave reappears out
"the crest of a wave reappears out o
"the crest of a wave reappears out of 
"the crest of a wave reappears out of n
"the crest of a wave reappears out of no
"the crest of a wave reappears out of now
"the crest of a wave reappears out of nowh
"the crest of a wave reappears out of nowhe
"the crest of a wave reappears out of nowher
"the crest of a wave reappears out of nowhere
"the crest of a wave reappears out of nowhere.
"the crest of a wave reappears out of nowhere."

"interesting, but I've read it before."
"probably hundreds of times."
"at the low end."
"what's this business about scattered-crumb-style wisdom?"
"something I picked up from alan watts."
"at mrs. piggly wiggly's farm?"
"yeah."
"you think that's gonna actually influence our readership?" 
"look, calvin!  lloyd mistook his entire career for a calling!  and then, one evening, wandering along the edge of the gravel pit, abandoned like tractor partshe came across these lines scrawled in mud at the base of the water tower: 

"music composed not via sound,
but tapering off into the ether itself-
bowed like coiled serpents 
under the soft roar 
of the violin's hollow body."

"wow- I like it!  I think I'm gonna put it up on my blog!"
"me too!"
"we can't just pretend to recreate the old lines that allegedly embossed the lost mythical libraries!"
"no matter how much their facebook pages hugged the unlettered shore of vast cities!"
"there weren't even cities in those days, keng!  no cities!!!"
"wow- you really wanna go that far back in time?"
"no, not really- but I'm not sure that we still have a choice." 
"music composed not via sound?"
"that's right- just fading off into the ether!"
"ether the into off fading just- right that's?"
"sound via not composed music?"
"choice a have still we that sure not I'm but- really not, no."
" time in back far that go wanna really you- wow!"
" cities no!!! keng, days those in cities even weren't there- you agree?"
"pretty much." 
"probably hundreds of times."
"at the low end."
"the low end?"
"the low end."
"the low end."
"the bare minimum, maybe?"    "any identifiable earth."     "you mentioned that some people carry it around in their backpacks?"     "you mean an old collection of books?"      "just a hairsbreadth of difference there."            "lazy mist gathers in pools outside of my inbox."                         "yeah, I've noticed that."           "so has my english professor."    "ha ha ha ha ha!"


and then, yet another strange insight mercifully dawns on them, quietly, something to do with basic geometry situated unevenly within organic diseases.

"teeming with hunger for scattered-crumb-style nutrition, celine mistook her education for a 300 ring circus and one morning, in her dorm room window, she traced these lines in the frost:

a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attention.
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attention
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attentio
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attenti
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's attent
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's atten
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's atte
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's att
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's at
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's a
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment's 
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment'
a crescent moon calls out for a mere moment
a crescent moon calls out for a mere momen
a crescent moon calls out for a mere mome
a crescent moon calls out for a mere mom
a crescent moon calls out for a mere mo
a crescent moon calls out for a mere m
a crescent moon calls out for a mere 
a crescent moon calls out for a mer
a crescent moon calls out for a me
a crescent moon calls out for a m
a crescent moon calls out for a
a crescent moon calls out for
a crescent moon calls out fo
a crescent moon calls out f
a crescent moon calls out
a crescent moon calls ou
a crescent moon calls o
a crescent moon calls 
a crescent moon call
a crescent moon cal
a crescent moon ca
a crescent moon c
a crescent moon 
a crescent moo
a crescent mo
a crescent m
a crescent
a crescen
a cresce
a cresc
a cres
a cre
a cr
a c