Saturday, March 2, 2013

out in the field

[processes, indeed (but not in word), some of which are not the least bit "procedural."]

for instance, the entire forest, violently swept up and carried away, willy-nilly, in a tornado-like crush of parasitic delusion.


not the least bit procedural.  no dependence on teachings.  language itself only "fuels the funnel cloud."

the mind of tao, if one can even refer to such a mysterious thing, noticed the storm gathering strength as early as "valentine's" day.  certain people attempted to start cordoning off the most "fragile terraces", and "sentries" were posted here and there on paper ships alongside certain "rivers and locks."

sane energy and its faithful companion and sidekick ageless aberrant energy made a compact, but left off before the ink had thoroughly dried- an interloper, a trickster, a shaman dressed in toilet paper and duct tape sneaked in when no one was looking and subtly inverted a few central clauses.

the so-called "great rivers" also tend to be the most dangerous.  major currents, major serpents, and in this day and age, major toxins.  the paper boats appear to "protect" us, but that doesn't necessarily relax the tornado- the reverse is more likely- unrecognizable, splintered, fragmented, imploding, etc.

the media will most likely refer to it as an "unexpected encounter."  good for the media!  good for their global networks and concentric circles of responsible readership!

(in the body of the hexameter there is one anonymous yin, which enters by stealth beneath five anonymous drunk, dozing yang marionettes.)

(something along the lines of: "there being no other people"?
something along the lines of human x endlessly waiting?
and endlessness x still waiting there beside us, so patiently?)

(kept talking, kept believing, kept pausing, regrouping, and listening- these are still often regarded as the central human activities.  I've already written about my love affair with activities so there's no need to try and convince you of anything.  if I am in fact accused of merely making things up as I go, and if I respond that that's as valid an activity as any... well, I know how to read faces.  I also know how to read diaries.  I understand how you got this way, became the "type of person" you are.  it was probably wrong of me to sneak into your home like I did, rummage thru your closets and storage units until I found what I was looking for- old fashioned, paper-based notebooks, diaries, journals, etc- this is pretty much what I had been after since the first day I met you.  I know I know I know it's weird to be admitting this in an online public forum, but that seems to be how the most important information is exchanged nowadays.  would I adjust that reality if it was still in my meager power to do so?  good question.  I wish I had a good answer to go along with it.  but I don't.  at least not yet.  not until I've read all of your diaries.  I'm a strange person, admittedly.  but you're not so "normal" yourself, I am learning.

take for instance the entry on october 15, 2007- you know what I'm referring to here, so I won't spell it out for the public.  but think about that day for a moment.  think about going down to the water.  think about the soft light, the lapping, the shell fragments, the beautiful emptiness going virtually unnoticed by everyone else.  at least that day.  I'm not attempting to pass any judgment.  it was a weird era, undoubtedly.  weird weather, weird interpretations of history, weird systems of moving about from one place to another.  the simple neighborhood stroll was quietly becoming a thing of the past.  the citizens asleep in their homes, waking to the sounds of breezes, insects, and animals.  

october 15, 2006.  an equally unusual day for you, it would seem.  based on what you wrote then, it would almost seem as if the city was collapsing on top of you!  you were always given to overly extravagant metaphors, but when I read between the lines I can discern a strange magnetism in regards to the hobos camping out next to mulholland.  who was sharing your life then?  other individual people are simply not mentioned, ever.  maybe the supermarket attendant or the guy at the dollar store, but these were all carefully described as highly fleeting encounters...)