older stuff 7

Older Stuff from the Barn 1998-2000 (part 7)

there was no way to approach you, reader.  I couldn’t see any way to approach you convincingly.  I could call you reader, and I did, but would that ultimately make any difference?  are you here to answer questions?  are you here to formulate questions? to rinse them? to rivet them?  are you here to coagulate time? to send back ancient music as if over a vast?  here in body but not spirit?  here one minute and then entirely vanished the next?  look, a lot of people I know are like that!  I myself am like that!  I’m not trying to put you into some special aspiration or category, nor am I a mind reader cookie cutter desperado lone ranger in training, despite the funny looks I've been getting recently by the rotating cast of front desk attendants.  I realize that you’re not the type of person who wants to live alone ever again, but even if you are in that sad and delicate situation right now, that doesn’t mean we can’t establish a little slipstream of common ground, at least for as long as it takes you to reach the end of this paragraph.  I visualize you moving off and uploading eventually, off and up and away into the glorious future. the television. election results. food riots. water tables.  it’s not a sad visualization but it’s not particularly happy either.  it’s an urban existence we’re living here, and it’s the "techno-sphere" that makes it possible. all good things to those who wait, who allow gravity the honeycomb it desires.  

I won’t pretend to know things about you that someone in my position obviously couldn’t or wouldn’t.  I subscribe to human ingenuity and enjoy most traditional forms of human knowledge and information gathering/ winnowing/ sprinkling/ rehashing/ collaging/ redeeming/ recycling.  photographing the great apes has always been one of my favorite activities.  I’ve always believed that as single cell organisms we need to have at least a few shared community interests.  if you would prefer the word “hobbies” I won’t object in the slightest.  hobbies, interests, enthusiasms, whatever- the main point is to "have" them.  to wake up super early in the morning and get up right away and pursue them. unlock the door of your cell and proceed cautiously out into the unnamed visualization. everything your fingers touch is plastic or some other form of digi-synthetic. not a bad thing, not a good thing. not so much long term but short term.

 

for a long time I must have been writing into or in the service of the actual void.  I won’t pretend to know things that I don’t or can’t or shouldn't or haven't, as attractive as that sometimes may be in the eyes of the archaeology advocates.  my notebooks must have been meaningless. the datebooks must have been rife with fractals. obvious? certainly.  I didn’t have any teachers then, but if I had, they would have pulled back the curtain, I'm sure of it, and laughed, laughed uproariously.  not so much with me but at me.  wasn’t intending to write humorous sketches but that’s how most of it turned out, I’m afraid. and then, the next moment, for no clear reason, not afraid in the slightest! machine culture must have seduced me and it must have helped me seduce several readers.  for a long time I must have been writing into or in the service of absolute nothingness.  that might come off as a pretty strange or severe thing to say, but my "education" was laughably jerry-rigged; I might as well be perfectly transparent about this ostentatious and odious stage of my life.  I won’t say I was troubled, but neither will I say I was comforted.  I won’t pretend to gloss things over, as much as that might please a particular cross-section of comrades. (cartoonish?)  I wasn’t a hillbilly per se, but neither was I particularly cosmopolitan.  my notebooks must have been child's play.  I didn’t have any valid reason for keeping them.  sometimes I just lied there, beneath the earth, wondering what in god's name had become of my "motives"- looking back, I can see that they were tainted from the very beginning.  a weak link in the preliminaries and the entire rest of the process is jeopardized.  writing into the void, writing stories as a slave to the void.  why didn’t the void reveal itself sooner?  what did the void have to gain by delaying?  increased loyalty on my part?  increased detachment/estrangement from all other primaries?  we didn’t maintain communication? I think that much is obvious?  we didn’t maintain our principles, and the global media eventually crushed us?  we deserved it, and at some level we might have even desired it?  there would never be a full confession?  neither would there ever be an honest accounting?  he was a tiresome fellow?  we can't all just admit that?  he was the sort of person who probably doesn’t have a whole lot of friends or even associates?  I’m not personally interested in telling his story, but I’m getting paid by a magazine to do it, so I’m pretty much forcing myself to just get it over with.  

“...keith was living alone when the psycho/ eco/ socio/ archaeo/ logical problems returned with a vengeance.  he was supposed to write a feature article for field and stream's online subsidiary but ultimately there would be no such feature article.  the topic was, and then wasn’t.  the topic is, and then it isn’t.  this happens all the time in the wilderness-based magazine industry.  “interesting” turns towards and embraces its dear friend “uninteresting.”  keith was living alone when the psycho/ eco/ socio/ archaeo/ logical problems returned with an updated agenda.  at first he looked for the humor but it wore thin rather quickly. we could see its ribs and vertebrae sticking out. unwashed, tattered clothing, unreturned phone calls, poor diet. the usual.  if it was possible to embed the situation in a piece of experimental short fiction, voices rising up out of nowhere, appeals made directly to a ghostly character known only as “reader”, sound and silence in the house, a discrete adjustment in weather, person a) not  very cheerful as well as b) not in the least bit successful.  keith and josef k just might decide to switch places, and you as a reader would be roped into it whether you like it or not!  it’s your prerogative of course to pause and glance around the single cell if you desire, or at certain parts of your organism, or at your communication technology.  all of these are items that could be taken in at a glance if one wants to.  "the apes are permitted to spend their so-called leisure time however they choose!" direct quote. (?)  if the stories seem old fashioned, if they fail to implicate you as a relevant subject- the phrase “participation in the 13 billion ring circus” comes to mind for some reason- it’s regarded by the historians as a buzzword that outlived its usefulness.  regarded by the publishing industry as a necessary adjustment/embarrassment.  just the slightest fragment or fraction of keith’s life need concern us for this particular exercise.  he was "living alone" when the psycho/ eco/ socio/ archaeo/ logical problems returned with seemingly redoubled force.  of course he had made countless errors in this "department" before and most likely he was making countless errors "again."  the world was "made up of" errors.  you could probably even define the whole phenomenon by that single and simple word “error.” or "innocent."  there was no mention of a creator and no reference made to creation.  these terms were regarded as tiresome.  another adjective we heard a lot in regards to this situation was “weary.”  as in, “the person in question was weary.”  he laid down inert on the pavement.  the passers-by, although concerned, and maybe even a little bit sick to their stomachs, decided to continue along on their way to important appointments.  keith was living alone and it was by no means an "accident."  there was always traditional literature, always traditional storytelling, always a vast oral tradition invoking the stillness, the darkness, the emptiness.  after a series of interviews, rachel was "invited into my home" for a clandestine visit.  for reasons that will become clear in the semi-immediate future, I wanted to familiarize her with certain archaeological principles that had led our little team to the mother lode.  it had something to do with the feature article alluded to earlier, and some of my concerns regarding “nature” and “authorship”- the concern that there might not be any more “nature” and entirely way too much “authorship.”  venturing out into the public green space had never been my preferred mode of coping, yet there I was again, picking my nose, being asked to reveal my methods before a crack team of citizen journalists.  I won’t lump you into either category until I’ve learned a little bit more about you- you probably think that’s impossible and you have good reason for thinking that.  am I on track here?  is it fair to be implicating you so at such an early stage in the process? the art museum, the movie theater, the public park, the cafe?  is it fair to assume that you are already familiar with these institutions?  or should I sketch out a few particulars, familiarize you with my own version of these locations and textures?  is it desirable in this context to attempt turning my experience, however devastating or paltry, into something along the lines of your experience also?  can we really share some sort of experience?  and if so, is that desirable?  can you, will you, or might you?  our roles are completely transferable- that is a scientific fact of long standing.  the conversational tone is superseded by a long fade into ambient noise, and then, after that, utter silence.  people don’t usually like to hear about utter silence, I've noticed.  they don’t usually like to hear about utter solitude either.  that is why I am taking so long to introduce poor keith’s dismissal at the hands of the editorial board at field and stream's online subsidiary. all that you or they or anyone really knows about him at this particular point is that a)he is living alone and b)he is experiencing psycho/ eco/ socio/ archaeo/ logical difficulties. field and stream has "a checkered and colorful history."

if I had worked a little harder or received a better orientation none of this would even be happening, I overheard the chief editor saying.  all of us, including keith, and including keith's uncle kenneth, would be pursuing different hobbies, interests, enthusiasms, whatever.  notice I don’t use the term “fun activity,” even though it was the most logical choice.  our natural impulses, if we still even "have" them, are usually expressed via "activity."  we wake up in the morning and almost immediately start formulating new and better forms of coercion.  it makes you nervous, understandably, to be addressed by strangers out in the physical public.  you carry around your little secrets.  you adhere to some sort of schedule.  keith had issues, no doubt about it.  rachel attempted to help him.  and I in turn tried to help rachel , primarily by keeping in communication with you, the reader, and kenneth. the family crest had "a checkered and somewhat colorful history."

I know I’ve said this before, but the reader initially appeared to be "elsewhere."  venturing out into public, past traffic lights, moving thru the ocean of anonymous primates that constitute the physical public concavities.  I’ve already mentioned well known entities such as the art museum, movie theaters, public parks, and cafes, but you’ll notice, if you’re paying attention, that I am mentioning them yet again.  there’s a distinct reason for that- and it’s not just a covert way of winning you over to keith's side of the argument.  I don’t have a particular loyalty here.  like the person referred to earlier, I am also decidedly weary.  we’re in communication only because of a particular chain of events which could have turned out much differently- that’s why I remain more or less neutral.  I have no control over your life, no control over your response or reaction.  we might as well be strangers. or statues.  we might as well disappear into absolute anonymity.  not a trace of you remains in my consciousness after a couple of minutes, and I’m sure the reverse of that is true also- we move onto different and hopefully more interesting “activities.”  we murmur to ourselves, over and over, “thank god for activities.” we tattoo these words onto our skin: "three cheers for activity.'  

perhaps you wonder to yourself- is kenneth trying to purify some kind of lost friendship or love affair?  and the answer to that would be no.  the answer to that would be the single, simple, two-letter word “no.”  keith loved archaeology. yes indeed, he loved it more than words could express.  he was no longer leaving his underrground toolshed.  there wasn't any communication with the "rest of the faculty."  there didn’t "appear" to be any contact.  we were worried about his weekly address to the board of trustees.  it didn’t strike us as promising.  we wanted to reach out and encourage him but he was making that next to impossible.  email?  snail mail?  texts?  phone calls?  personal visits?  most of us were completely out of the habit of making these antiquated and cosmic "personal visits."  we wanted to convince society that it needed to make some adjustments, but the way we went about doing that just seemed to induce funny looks from the rotating cast of front desk attendants.

the first, the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and so on.

“sir, I don’t mean to criticize you but I think that there might be a relationship between those tendencies.  what two tendencies?  religious aspiration and suicidal ideation.  do you think any of this has to do with my weight problem?  sir, I’m tired of you always bringing everything back to your weight problem.  now listen- I’m serious.  jettison the aspiration, jettison the ideation.  I think they’re closely related. just stop eating so much.  I think all those calories are simply dragging you down.  focus on other stuff for awhile, ok? venture out into society. disappear into society.  

you had a lot of skills. (?)  people were important to you. (?)  you had a lot of friends. (?)  success was important to you. (?)  you lived alone down by the docks. (?)  great, now I’m just repeating myself!  it was automatic.  it was easy.  society corrected itself with the silky smoothness of motor oil.  the people I knew the best.  the greatest civilization in existence.  it becomes clear and we like it that way.  the greatest civilization in history.

it becomes gradually clearer to everyone.

gradually becomes more important to obscure what is happening.

why did you do that?

why did you say that?

why did you read that?

why did you purchase that?

why did you ruin that?

why did you not return that?

why did you stay in your room?

why did you not visit with people?

hideous men, how it is, ulysses, the castle, tim of athens, various, others, etc.

always talking about nothing

always talking about other people

felt bad before, during, and after the latest global technology conference.

went back without any solution.

went back without any coherent language.
went back without the same confidence in my online community.

one of the only things that I could say with any conviction- one of the few statements that I felt contained some form of intrinsic, undeniable sense- the words themselves containing something like actual value- tony did indeed live a life of adventure, sorta like indiana jones and the temple of coconuts.

person whose name might have been nothing

person whose name might have been anything

even if you, as native speaker-

even if you attempted to conjure absolute nothingness-

no existence

wait, you’re kidding

that’s really interesting
no, I'm not just saying that, honey

banishment followed by utter oblivion

are you serious?  kidding?  
maybe both at the same exact time?

no existence, no housing, no conversation, no wilderness, nothing-

but honey, we engaged in conversation!

I can tell just by the look on your face you were banished from the steering committee!

no existence.

no science.

nobody around here qualified

to talk about the paradigm shifts.

exploration.

ostentation.
art and experimentation.

not a matter of number.

not a matter of timing.

formal tools? not that important

people’s bones?  not important

colonel sanders shaved off his beard.

you can read all about it on the company website!

woke up this morning and almost immediately logged onto a couple of interesting websites.  

I heard this phrase in passing:  “there will be no more commitment to websites”; but I didn’t believe it for a minute, and I doubt you did either.

I realize as well as anyone that this is going to sound a little bit crazy, but I still maintain that my neighbor larry is the most important person in the entire united states of america.  in spite of all his psycho/ eco/ socio/ archaeo/ logical difficulties, he remains the most important person in the entire united states of america.

(people, I’m sure, are going to think that I’m just joking around when I say this, but I went to a neighborhood meet-n-greet yesterday and really enjoyed myself!)

as a child I played in the sprinkler and I wonder if you did also.  later on I started using recreational drugs and I wonder if there’s any chance you did anything similar.  we would go down to the viaduct- I don’t see what the big mystery is.  we would go down there so as not to be seen by any authority figures.  when the drugs had taken effect, we would oftentimes just engage in conversation.  my neighbor ron just so happens to be the most important person in the entire united states of america.  there’s a parade later this summer and he is going to be in it, I think!  there are so many things to be shared between an author and reader.  they exchange little tidbits from their personal lives- I don’t exactly know why this is so, but it is so.  it has been verified.

if I could go down there and meet woodsy the owl I probably would.  that’s how empty and ridiculous my life has become.  I paced for several minutes outside the neighborhood bookstore, looking thru the large picture window, very much afraid of going in.  the big newscast starts in several minutes and I do not want to miss anything.  chances are a lot of important stuff happened last night and today.  if I don’t find out about it first hand I’m gonna be in serious trouble.  someone will find out about my shortcomings and publish them in the community newsletter.  they suggested I relax but I responded that I was already relaxed.  what’s wrong with pacing around outside a neighborhood bookstore?  there’s a high chance that somebody I know is in there browsing the aisles.  my neighbor ron is the most important person in the entire united states of america.  ivy grows and clings to the walls of his toolshed.  it’s details like this that make the narrative fun for people to read and reflect on.

older stuff 6

Older Stuff from the Barn; 1998-2000 (part 6)

“...he talked quite a bit back in those days of simply hiding away, like an insect.  I know that you knew him back then- in fact, knew him better than most people who have come onto this program.  this was of course in the days before he talked about hiding away, like an insect.  did he talk about other things?  yes, this is a serious question.  a question directed straight at you, the reader- for the time being you’ll just have to go under this generic name, “reader.”  and if you think that I’m lumping you in with all of the others, well- think again.  and no, it doesn’t have anything to do with your talents or potential or sense of purpose or personal categories.  neither is it just a fluke, a sense of one person picked out at random from billions.  no, there is solid evidence that you knew him, that you two in fact had a number of fairly long and frank conversations.  he talked quite a bit about hiding away during those earlier years.  there’s almost no chance that you don’t know what I’m referring to here.  I’ve studied the timeline on facebook, as well as a few of your personal transcripts.  this will probably anger, disturb, and even estrange you to a certain extent, but these are all possibilities that I have carefully weighed in advance.  they are worth the risk, I’ve decided- these are still your real-life relationships.  I’m not trying to intrude on your private life and if it makes you feel any better, there is an awful lot I still don’t know and in fact don’t want to know, ever.  your life is your own private business. it remains. it is natural.  it’s a decent little individual life that still has considerable promise.  I learned about a few of your successes as well as a few of your failures, but what I’m primarily concerned with is your brief relationship with the person in question during the time you shared sensitive information on twitter.

I know as well as anyone that he seldom ventured out into public, and I’m anticipating that that will probably be your first line of defense.  I understand all too well that you want to put some space between yourself and this person.  I understand it because I feel exactly the same!  she’s not the most likable person, is she?  we can finally be honest about stuff like this!  not the most pleasant individual on the face of the earth.  it wasn’t your fault that bert and ernie were committed to solid citizen journalism.  and neither is there anything wrong with people wanting to film extreme weather events.  “consigned to oblivion,” as a poet might put it.  well, look, reader, please understand- I’m not trying to stir anything up.  I understand you’re getting angry and that I’m seriously jeopardizing any possible future between us by pointing out such delicate matters.  your identity is still strong- don’t worry! your identity is well-intact and established!  it’s just plain wrong for a fool like me to come blundering in like this, out of nowhere.  do you still maintain what a poet might call a “constellation of human desires?”  and if so, does the person in question have any rightful place or station or claim to it?  the obvious answer is “of course not” and I anticipated that also.  I weighed it carefully against all the answers that I knew would not be forthcoming just to get a sense of possible context- a sense of our ongoing relationship.  you as reader, me as shale, both as current or perhaps former jade and/or associates to the person in question, a slow waltz, toward increasingly untenable answers.

I guess the thing I will be focusing on initially is this sense of the person “hiding away.”  hiding away from her/himself?  hiding away from the others?  hiding away from the past?  from the present?  the future?  hiding away for the fun of it?  hiding away as a symbol?  immediately we are pulled into a dense network of black stars and map rooms.  you have your own private theories, I realize, and there will be a chance, later on, if you like, for you to ventilate some of them.  you probably think I’m just saying that in an initial attempt to win you over- you probably imagine that this business of “airing them” is simply impossible in a confused media empire like this- well, let me ask a simple question of my own- are you, in fact, prepared to identify your awareness or knowledge of black stars and map rooms?  and if so, are you willing to reveal where and how you stumbled into the...golly...don’t answer now and don’t even pause to think the thing over.  there will be more than enough time for this after our initial series of questions.  you’ll notice that I am deliberately refraining from calling it a “Q and A” format and my reasons for that will also become apparent throughout the course of the inquiry.  you’ll probably be wondering if the person in question is still even viable- and the only honest answer is the 2 conjoined and time-honored phrases:  I don’t know.  I’m sorry.  I wish I knew, but I don’t.  this person continually talked about the possibility of hiding away, like an insect- you know this as well as anyone else, if not better.  isn’t that why I selected you?  isn’t that why you agreed to these questions?  because at some level, as much as you would like to forget that little episode altogether, you still care about the person in question, as strange and unpleasant as she or he actually was.  and if you don’t care, maybe you’re still the slightest bit curious.  the person in question appeared to have only one abiding area of human concern- to wit, hiding away, and the practical means of making it happen as soon as humanly possible.  did the person try to recruit you?  did the person try to convince you?  did the person try to convince you that hiding away like an insect might be the best possible outcome for you as well?  and did you listen to the person’s arguments?  were you the least bit persuaded?  you don’t need to answer these questions right now nor do you need to pause for a few moments of anguished reflection.  again, it’s not necessarily a matter of being picked out at random from a pool of billions, but at the same time neither did you mastermind yourself into this particular context.  I’m not suggesting that you just woke up one day and discovered yourself inside a so-called human body.  I’m not suggesting that you went off hunting for space in an apartment or rooming house.  that very term “rooming house” seldom even comes up anymore- doesn’t it conjure up images of old-fashioned spy novels?  as in “so and so returned home from the scene of the crime.  she or he looked out of the window at the rooming house across the street and was startled to see an old woman and old man staring back at her or him.  so-and-so drew the curtains, determined to never look in that direction again.  it’s a seedy type of person who lives for long in a rooming house- these old folks have been living there since their mid-thirties, allegedly.  I’d rather be stuck in this cycle of small-scale crime for the rest of my life than spend my time peeping out windows at passers-by and weird people like myself  in neighboring windows...”

“...the person in question may or may not have been experiencing psycho/ eco/ socio/ archaeo/ logical problems.  please note that I’m not saying “suffering from” these particular problems.  whether or not she or he was suffering is a matter of conjecture at this point.  we may arrive there, but if we don’t, we’ll continue to press on with what little information we have gleaned in other critical areas.  you may or may not have noticed, you may or may not have suspected, you may or may not have broached the topic, and if so, the person in question may or may not have responded.  these are all areas of immediate interest to me.  as a reader and citizen journalist, extreme weather is of interest as well.  our lives have never intersected before and most likely never will again in the future.  it’s an extremely brief span of time we have together and chances are it’s becoming alarmingly briefer as a result of me pointing it out in this somewhat tiresome manner.  you would think my conditioning might have kicked in by this point, but alas, there was no solid conditioning.  I was a very "poor" student and asked to leave almost every institution I entered.  I realize this might contribute to a sort of unintended “bad boy” image but let me assure you that that was in no way the case or the intention.  I was a timid lad, for the most part, and oftentimes refused to speak altogether.  does it come as a surprise to the reader that I sometimes fantasized about hiding away as an adult? like a termite?  the person in question came into my life at a very sensitive time.  I had just won the first of several local wood-working awards.  at the time, there was a real push to get the local youth into wood-working.  wood-working shops, wood-working clinics, wood-working experts brought in on special occasions to teach and inspire us- I was of course already thinking about my hideout or hideaway and realized that some practical skills would probably come in very handy.  the culture around me at the time was confused and I would even say somewhat demented.  even though they ostensibly valued old world handicrafts like wood-working and star-gazing, there was a distinct preference for what was being referred to as the “techno-sphere.”  “say no more” is what I’m usually told when I come to this part of my narrative. “we’re not living in a bubble” is another response I’ve heard literally thousands of time.  when I first launched the subsidiary that was intended to supplement this particular inquiry, I valued friendship, and there was no price too high to pay for maintaining it.  a quiet walk thru the forest, a trip to the circus or carnival, traditional thanksgiving dinners, an afternoon at the ball park- even if you and I have never done these sorts of things together, I’m banking on the fact that you have your own point of cultural reference.  it might not be enjoyable and it might even erode the fragile trust built up between us by this point- well, again, I suppose it’s a risk that I’m willing to take.  the person in question, the one who kept talking about the prospect of hiding away- people sometimes engage in conversation. (?)  people enjoy conversation. (?)  all day and then all night they rehash the possibilities, and then when morning comes again they voluntarily venture out into the upgraded techno-sphere. I'm getting the distinct impression that NPR has convinced them to "become part of the dialogue."  it’s not so much a matter of asking them to review their priorities as a matter of sorting out what would happen if they successfully achieved their objectives.  “hiding away” is no laughing matter.  the person is question was no stand-up comedian.  she or he lived in a rooming house.  yes, I am finally prepared to divulge that critical piece of information.   

and so, in conclusion, if there was one type of music I cared about I’d honestly have to say it was rock.  most people don’t seem to understand this and I don’t feel the need to explain it.  rock just made sense to me.  the energy and the beat seemed to speak to me.  suddenly, so much seemed possible!  I could visualize my entire life stretching out or unfolding in front of me.  rock gave me courage, ok? a courage I was decidedly lacking.  I was finally ready to embark on the most wild adventures.  this was all thanks to rock.  I owe rock almost everything.

older stuff 5

Older Stuff from the Barn; 1998-2000 (part 5)

there were some pretty unusual people who wanted to be a part of our group.  we had to tell them to go away. to go, in essence, away. sorry, folks, you're just gonna have to find a way of your own. there were some pretty unusual people who wanted to be a part of our movement.  we didn’t like them, and we had to tell them that their presence was in no way desired.  sometimes we had a hard time making this clear to certain persons, and it was not always possible for us to enact or enforce our particular wishes.  there were some pretty unusual people, let me tell ya!  pretty ineffective when it came to traditional communication techniques.  people not very skilled.  have I already mentioned that?  people not very successful.  it makes sense to me when I hear that a few them were left behind or lost in the shuffle.  that doesn’t surprise me at all!  there was probably no way of helping them.  we discussed some of the possibilities, but in the end, there was probably no way of helping them.  I’ve already alluded to some of the more unusual people around here.  I’ve demonstrated how and why we were reluctant to let them be a part of our focus group.  we were headed for destruction, most likely self-induced or self-consummated.  you start to get the idea, I suppose, when I talk about the science fair not being very fun or successful.  heading out to the ball field, heading out to the theater, heading out to the cine-plex or perhaps there’s a travelling circus or carnival.  steve is always talking about a “carnival atmosphere” and maybe for the first time I’m going to find out what the hell he’s referring to!  as human beings we usually wanted to share our ideas, but these people were highly unusual and we weren’t sure that we wanted them in our rag-tag organization.  is that so hard for you to understand, reader?  we took up different materials.  there was a lot lying around and we decided to select a few items at random.  now if it’s reading material that you’re talking about and the donations we might eventually make to the rummage sale - well, hold on there, partner- we might get this thing sorted out yet!   people talking, people working, people perpetuating the overall sense of our species.  a decent species, for the most part, a species that I think you should be proud to be part of, and no, that’s not a veiled reference to the ballpark or band shell.  we need and want our entertainment, need and want a sensation of something like “distance.”  if they can’t get it by being a part of some anonymous or unusual piracy, well then, there will be no more communication.  there will be no more veiled references to your facebook or e-mail or twitter account.  we wanted them to be stronger but they always ended up just being weaker.  we wanted to cure them of depression but they just ended up ending their lives prematurely.  talk about the clinics and conventions as much as you want, talk about the distance, the nothingness, the music and publishing industries.  they were all highly unusual and we didn’t want to get very close to them.  we issued warnings, and then we hired massive amounts of private security.  if they refused to back down on their own they would be forced to do so at gunpoint.  we never wanted it to get to this point but I suppose our initial planning was terrible.  these people were all highly unusual.  their weirdness disoriented us and caused us to commit serious errors.  yes, we will probably be paying for these errors for as long as we live!  and beyond!  I know that as a reader you would like us to split up into more distinct entities, and there’s a very good chance that we eventually will.  your desires will not only be acknowledged but fulfilled in every possible way!  these are some of the things we learned in college and we’re not about to forego such incredible wisdom!  I realize that it has taken us a long time to admit this.  those people were highly unusual and they made me very nervous, to be honest.  I didn’t like the looks of them.  I didn’t want to meet up with them.  I know it’s really important for different groups to at least attempt to share their opinions.  nonetheless, it ends in failure.  nonetheless, it results in confusion.  we should probably all commit mass suicide.  that would be a fairly simple solution.  I’m going to write to my congressperson right now and suggest that we all commit mass suicide as a team!  of course it won’t be accepted and of course it won’t be appreciated.  these people were highly unusual and there was no telling what they would be dreaming up next!  if it had something to do with urban areas, well then, hip hip hooray for urban areas!  if it had something to do with farms and farmers, well, my hat is off to them also!  some people burrow underground and decide to live out the rest of their lives in utter darkness and silence.  some people go public with their stories concerning serious ecological problems.  I would never do that- no way.  reader, just so you know- I’m different from those kinds of citizen journalists. I’m not necessarily saying that I’m a unique or even interesting individual.  people like me have engaged in barter because it helps to make sense of the chaos.  we like to spend quite a bit of our leisure time out in nature!  you may or may not find this surprising, but it still deserves to be stated. fuck the internet, right?  we understand what the culture is after and so we wander around the neighborhood aimlessly, in the spirit of old-fashioned town criers, shouting out and explicating some of the day’s relevant issues.  some historical figures I know have gone insane completely intentionally, meaning that they have done the precise things that they suspected would drive them over the edge.  these people were of course highly unusual and I think it makes sense that we were suspicious.  living out in the country, a countrified type of existence, you’d call it, gathering together with neighbors in what might be called the traditional wilderness manner- I’m pretty sure we’ll be condemned.  I’m pretty sure we’ll be penalized.  if I had more energy I might put together some kind of defense, but guess what?  I don’t have more energy, reader!  I only have a very very small amount of available energy.  you’ll probably suggest that I take medicine for it or at the very least drink energy shakes but those activities themselves require more energy than I currently have at my disposal!  shake your head sadly at my dilemma.  shake your head at my poor disposition.  as a reader this is well within your rights, and I am telling you personally to just go ahead and do what feels natural.  I know that the time we have together is short and may be ending any moment now, so that is why I am willing to reach out to you thru the 2 dimensions of the screen or the page and make a personal appeal, a direct intrusion into your daily existence.  I will tear a hole in your mentality, and if that sounds a little bit aggressive, please understand that, once again, it is only a figure of speech!  how many times do I have to assure you of that?  is that the way you want to live your life?  puttering around alone up in the attic?  were you banished?  if so, by whom?  are you still locked up in the temple of coconuts?  why did you make so many errors?  didn’t you understand that there was no actual self?  you wandered around the empty building, an empty name, empty body, murmured nonsensical phrases that reverberated thru the vast cavern of your synthetic vitamins and minerals.  I don’t see how or why you kept on surviving.  there was no discernible purpose!  these mob connections you’re always referring to- certain people are, in plain fact, highly unusual, reader!  we would like to share our ideas but our ideas aren’t the least bit realistic.  there’s probably a reason for that.  indeed, there is ample evidence in this very appeal.  you can tell by the way he is running, by the way he is murmuring- how many times did we suggest that he venture out into the physical public?  how many times did he respond that there was no such as thing as the space-time continuum?  only an insane person could come up with a rejoinder like that!  and yet, wasn't that him wandering past the window just now?  like a lot of folks, we enjoy spending time at the coffeehouse.  if you knew what we were after you would also spend more of your time at the coffeehouse also.  it makes a lot of sense.  the smartest people are into it!  they go there to dialogue, they go to increase the amplitude and range of their dialogue.  it wasn’t necessarily a woodcutter's existence that I was leading back then but neither is that an entirely misleading allusion- an occupation much like an any other.  human beings cast in the same mold as so many others. vitamins and minerals need to be written about.

older stuff 4

Older Stuff from the Barn; 1998-2000 (part 4)

people hanging around who informed us that they didn’t have even the slightest interest in mind reading; anonymous people just hanging around in the neighborhood actually said or admitted this;  said it in a tone of voice which might be characterized as well-informed, steady, and confident.  they had no interest in mind reading, apparently, but instead chose to pursue a staggeringly wide range of other modern activities.

“...sir, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve been watching you for several minutes while I wait for my wife to finish her call and it struck me that you look like the sort of person who might enjoy spending your leisure time in a quiet activity such as mind reading or meditating- tell me, am I at all near the mark on this one?  that’s a pretty unusual thing to say to a complete stranger out in public;  on the contrary, sir, it’s highly usual.  maybe even a bit “unacceptable.”  indeed, indeed, indeed- it’s an unpredictable world that we live in.  despite what “the experts” would like us to believe-  take any random person and then imagine them going off into the distance; wait- you mean “disappearing off into the distance?”  yes, sir- disappearing off into the nothingness;  well, gee whiz- what would they do with themselves out in the nothingness?  good question!  I suppose I’m suggesting that a person like that might enjoy a quiet activity more along the lines of light or casual mind reading;  you think they might enjoy mind reading?  yes, they would probably also enjoy reading literature;  what’s your definition of literature?  oh, you know- stories, essays, plays, novels, articles; pretty broad definition, sir; well, people enjoy a wide range of options when it comes to this sort of activity.  they gather together in small groups and sometimes discuss their ideas.  some of those ideas come from reading, others arise from the murky depths of the alleged or actual “self.”  these are all old-fashioned terms that can’t be bandied about in the same off-hand way that they used to be; so they have no interest in films, you’re implying here?  correct.  next to no interest in cinema;  only mind reading?  only that, sir.  they spend most of their leisure time mind reading.  of course, there are other people in the neighborhood who prefer quite different activities;  yes, I’ve heard about some of those; some of them, for example, like to work in their vegetable patch.  and yes, let’s not forget- bicycling is also a perennial favorite;  but no mind reading, you’re implying?  yes, as much as it pains me to say it- almost no mind reading, and in most cases, no mind reading at all- as in zero. other activities have superseded it;  so you’re saying it was popular once?  I can’t see that far back into history, sir.  all I know is that when I wander around thru the neighborhood every evening, I see people shaking their heads sadly and overhear them telling each other that they no longer have any genuine interest in mind reading- as much as it pains them to say it, they go ahead and say it regardless;  what should we do about it, sir?  do about what?  this mind reading problem;  you see it as an problem, then?  why, yes- and a pretty serious problem at that!  you think they need to spend more time reading each other's minds?  they need to spend at least a little time mind reading!  and why is that sir?  you’re asking me about the value of mind reading?  no, I’m asking you about the value of simply getting up in the morning;  oh come on, sir- we’re not ready to venture out into that sort of territory.  let’s stick to the topic of mind reading- that’s where the people are struggling; I wouldn’t say “struggling” so much as simply not doing it-  no or little interest in mind reading, you’re implying? correct- next to no interest in mind reading, and in most cases, zero interest at all;  you really wander alone thru the neighborhood eavesdropping on people’s discussions?  well, it’s the only way to get to the bottom of the educational crisis;  sir, there’s no crisis to speak of- you’re just parroting phrases you’ve picked up from the media.  I’m not as concerned as you about how people chose to spend their leisure time;  you mean their recreational activities?  no, stop putting words in my mouth!  I wasn’t born yesterday, sir!  I totally understand this resistance and aversion to mind reading you’re talking about!  not that I share it myself- no, mind reading remains, even after all of these years, an enjoyable pastime- no, I’m talking about these people in your neighborhood- some of them have no reason for getting up in the morning- wow- I’m afraid that’s a problem we’re simply not equipped to tackle- if their problems run that deep we’ll probably need to refer them to some sort of professional.  to help them get started mind reading?  no, to give them a reason for getting up in the morning!  and if they can’t, to convince to them to get up all the same!  and if they can’t do that either, to find and implement some way of forcing them!  to physically pry them out of bed and send them along on their way!  send them off to some location?  precisely!  send them off to some other location!  to do what?  it doesn’t matter!  any kind of activity!  doesn’t even have to be purposeful?  no!  doesn’t even have to be purposeful!  sir, you’re describing a pretty inefficient state of affairs.   well, this is what happens when people lose their interest in mind reading!  you don’t think they would benefit equally from some other activity?  No!  No!  that’s precisely what I’ve been driving at this whole conversation!  are you even listening, sir?  are you paying the slightest bit of attention?  of course I am, and I resent your suggestion that maybe I’m not.  well, how can you ask a question like that then?  you mean the one related to mind reading?  no, the one related to getting up early in the morning and moving out into a vast field of random activity!  people won’t appreciate that way of describing it, sir-  will they murder me, then?  will they burn down my house and the few meager possessions I keep stored inside of it?  probably not, but they won’t accept you into the community circle.  I don’t know why you keep on saying that.  those ideas are questionable.  the person, if there even is one, has simply lost interest in mind reading.  over the years, you’re saying?  gradually?  or he never had an interest at all- in which case it would be our job to build it up out of nothing.  that’s right, sir.  it wouldn’t be easy.  some might even say simply impossible.  they have no real interest in mind reading.  but they don’t have a fake interest either.  no interest at all- don’t you see that?  no interest in reading at all!  waking up in the morning, staring for a while up at the ceiling, and then gradually moving out into an ever-widening field of increasingly random activities.  that does seem to be the situation.  people just want to share their ideas!  yes, agreed, but they don’t want to do it thru the channels of reading.  well, what other channels are there?  talking.  tv.  the computer.  but they read on the computer, don’t they?  don’t they read email or something?  no.  increasingly those emails are being transferred to pre-recorded, voice-activated.  there’s a sense of people present.  a sense of active, careful, and appreciative listening.  these are the same people who you said earlier might decide to end their own lives prematurely?  well, that always remains a possibility, yes.  maybe we need to give them more incentive?  what do you think?  maybe we need to create more incentive?  look, sir, there will always be people with serious psychological problems.  they may emerge out into public but chances are they will more or less keep to themselves.  what makes you say that?  just a hunch.  well, your hunches have been wrong in the past.  I don’t put a lot of stock in your hunches!  people have insane ideas.  they have insane machines and insane fuel sources.  bottom line- they can’t be trusted.  even if they spend quite a bit of their leisure time reading?  that has nothing to do with it, sir.  they’re probably reading poems and articles that are also insane.  so the insanity just keeps growing, you’re saying.  yes.  it gets worse and worse over time.  to the point where we might not even be able to communicate with them thru the traditional channels?  that is a distinct possibility, sir- I might even say probability.  not only did they not give a rat’s ass about reading, but they appeared to be experiencing or suffering from serious psychological problems.  if they really want to venture out into the local community, that’s their affair- we have no intention of stopping them.  the point of reading, if there is one, is to increase a person’s overall education. you can intuit this just by noting how often they refer to “primordial wilderness.”  they probably did not take a single one of our suggestions to heart...but whose fault is that?  ultimately?  do we blame their choice of reading material?  these were people with long standing psychological issues!  how could they be expected to make prudent decisions in this highly sensitive area? there's a lot to choose from- have you noticed that?  it’s not just a matter of pulling them off to the side, muttering a few tired platitudes about the benefits or pleasures of reading.  there was a bias around here for many years in favor of physical exercise. gym memberships. weight lifting.  people didn’t want to be bothered by all this talk about reading.  home-building, fence-building, tailoring, wagon-building, well-digging, well-meaning, veterinary science, farming, logging, furniture building, etc.  we all wanted very badly to be part of society!  we were part of that little group who regularly shouted out “three cheers for society!”   we wanted, along with everyone else, to wake up extremely early in the morning, while it was still dark, and prepare for long day of light or casual reading.  it seems as though this is what the entire trajectory of our lives was eventually headed for...”

older stuff 3

Older Stuff from the Barn; 1998-2000 (part 3)

“...builders, explorers, developers, all of us-  all we wanted was for our lives to make a little more basic sense- I don’t think there’s anything wrong with admitting that- but when that basic sense was not forthcoming, even after a great many years- well, I suppose that was when we first started talking seriously about the wilderness outpost.  we finally set those discussions in motion, and I think it’s a good thing that we did- what about you, reader or listener?  do you have any opinions regarding this delicate matter?  jot them down on scrap paper and we’ll introduce them to the entire group in a minute- the outpost, or at least the idea of it, had become quite important or relevant to our conception of a viable future.  we enjoyed nature, yes we did, no question about that whatsoever!  we enjoyed “spending time out in nature.”  if the others wanted to fool us or talk mean about us behind our backs when we couldn’t respond- if they wanted to fool us or talk mean about us in ways that were scarcely civilized or defensible- it’s a country life we aspired to; I don’t know how many times I’ll have to explain that.  more of a rural existence, you could call it, living closer to the rhythms of nature and wilderness- yes, indeed, as human beings it was important to take a few of our cues from the animal kingdom.  when the situation was appropriate, we enjoyed calling certain birds by their official ornithological names and we fought to protect their remaining semi-natural habitat.  it was becoming increasingly clear, I’m afraid- the thing about the serious psycho/ecological problems.  going out into the public, venturing out into the overall public, alerting the public, coaxing the public over to our somewhat bizarre point of view; wasn’t working so well.  the water.  the land.  the population.  the ether. the animals.

we developed these ideas over many many hours of conversation, debate, discussion, and role-playing-  why, even during our neighborhood walks we continued the spirited dialogue, seldom pausing or taking time out for even a few moment’s reflection- yes, as you can see, it was more or less full-steam-ahead style conversation!  if someone happened to coin an interesting phrase or idea, I jotted it down in my notebook, and dr. hodges gave a slow, appreciative nod.  thank holy christ.  the medicine seems to be working.  does that sound the least bit familiar?  I know that the answer is probably “no,” but that doesn’t necessarily get in the way of me maintaining that we have at least a few thing in common!  if it helps, just think of me as the sort of person who is always jotting things down on scraps of paper or cardboard.  I looked around for full employment, looked around for what might be called “better opportunities” for the “imminent future”- I would be a rickety old man one of these days, staring down the barrel of my imminent demise and oblivion-  I would almost certainly be forgotten by the population within a matter of months- thankfully, the entire physical as well as symbolic expanse of my being would be neatly expunged from people’s memories. if as a society we are still keeping record books at that time- well then, fine- a mere name; a few numbers- at the very most, a photograph buried somewhere in the archives, covered with dust and eventually mildew, and then most likely eaten by termites-  perhaps that’s why I’m always harping on about nature, good will, and wilderness- trying to picture for myself and anyone else who happens to be in the vicinity what the future, if there still is one, might conceivably look like- it’s a sandlot sort of existence that I’m prefiguring here, by the way.  asking people to make contributions;  asking them to accept some form of full-time employment- we absolutely have to get america working again...”

coming upon what some people have termed the “end of the road”- coming upon what might be termed a roadhouse or farmstead; working as what might be termed a gardener/groundskeeper;  tending to the grounds and the gardens; overlooking, hand held to brow, the expanse of the grounds and the scraggly gardens.  wooden tools, wooden idols-  woolen clothes in the late autumn and winter- living alone in the hayloft- being granted at least that much by peaceful jim, my employer.  explaining to him at a certain point that it would be better for me to live alone, far away from other people.  peaceful jim shook his head slowly and thoughtfully, in an attempt to signify concern and confusion.

“but you’re a gardener/groundskeeper, tony- what could you possibly know about city life?”

“I drove a taxi for several weeks-”

“yeah, and remind me how that turned out?”

“I crashed and was relieved of my services-”

“and yet you want to live up in the hayloft-”

“yes, I think it would be better if I could live alone for awhile.”

“you’ve talked this over with your family?”

“yes I have, peaceful jim. a long time ago. I’ve been thinking about it for a very long time.”

“well tony, I suppose we’ve always been the sort of people who go in for verbal communication when it appears to be an option-”

“and it almost always does appear to be an option-”

“yes, young feller- you’re right.  it most certainly does.  I’ve always thought to myself that we needed a few more young fellers like you in the area.”

“why?  just because I want to live alone in the hayloft?”

“well, yes- that’s part of it, son- and not the most insignificant part...tell you what, tony- why don’t you go ahead and try it out for awhile- my guess is that you probably just need to get something out of your system- you’re a gardener/groundskeeper- nobody can gainsay you on that one- maybe all this time out in the wilderness has gone a little bit to your head.  I know what that can be like- I was a young man like yourself once- I was more of a mechanic, you know- fixing the various machines when they broke down, which was often, let me tell ya. fucking a lot, to be honest.  but I watched guys like you from a distance, tending to the grounds and the gardens.  me, covered with grease, iron filings, saw dust- you, covered with dirt, grass, clay, leaves, insects, whatever.  as you know, it requires all types to keep this place running.  if you really want to live alone in the hayloft, I’ll let you- but first, imagine me for a moment- ok?  think about my position.  moving up thru the ranks- a simple greeter at first, then eventually moving up to the position of bell-boy, then lookout, then desk clerk, then errand boy, until I’d learned enough to sign on as full-time mechanic...”

at this point peaceful jim paused and walked over to the soda machine.  he purchased a welch’s grape and gulped it all down in one go.  he took out his hankie, mopped his brow, and continued.  

“...I was only 17 years old and yet I had already made a number of pretty serious errors.  during an important school presentation I made fun of nature and wilderness.  I mocked it, more or less.  mocked it while I was supposed to be presenting it as a serious issue.  the swamplands, the wetlands, the woodlands, the riverlands.  these are or were all considered relatively important- they wanted us to venture out into nature.  first venture out into public, then take the next logical step and venture out into the “overall wilderness.”  I was a pretty timid person back then, tony, and wasn’t always willing to communicate verbally.  this was seen as a serious handicap and I had to go to some workshops at what they called the communication issues outpatient clinic.  people were jazzed up, excited.  they had also made some serious errors.  but they had discovered a way to atone for it- that was the critical difference, young feller.  I still spent most of my time wandering aimlessly alone thru the neighborhood.  I bought candy and soda and didn’t feel the need to apologize for it.  our neighbor, lloyd rifflin, was a milkman, believe it or not.  I was pretty sure that this was what I wanted to do for a living.  but as you know, the industry changed.  milk distribution policies shifted.  lloyd went back to school and started working for NASA.  when my folks initially suggested that I consider “heading out into uncharted wilderness with only a knife, a bit of twine, and some band-aids” I don’t think this is what they had in mind, but, in their defense, they didn’t try dissuading me either.  wandering around aimlessly thru the neighborhoods is still better than holing up for days at a time in one’s room, they must have thought-  so they backed off, and we all just moved on as if the issue had never come up.  they also thought that I would benefit from having a few more basic interests or hobbies, and that’s when the idea of being a gardener/groundskeeper came in.  it was meant to be therapeutic, but when they discovered I was actually good at it- well, I took over for larry, the head guy, when he decided to move to minnesota.  there was a woman there who was apparently promising him more or less unlimited sexual intercourse for however long it took him to build her a modest-sized house out in the countryside.  it probably goes without saying that this woman had pretty serious psychological issues, and if you’d like, we could get into that later, because I kept in touch with larry during those difficult months.  every now and then I’d have a garden or groundskeeping question, and he told me when he left that I was always welcome to call him- it didn’t even have to be work-related!  we could just talk about our lives, if we wanted.  yes, he was one of those types who happen to genuinely enjoy conversation.  well, over the next few months I took him up on his offer quite a bit, and learned about how the house building was coming along, as well as the corresponding sexual intercourse.  it’s true that he did seem to be taking her up on the unlimited amount guaranteed, but he assured me that she was enjoying it every bit as much as he was, if not more.  it might sound strange, but he still took an interest in the mundane details regarding the garden and grounds- he encouraged me when I was despondent and then reined me in when I became too excited...”

peaceful jim was a good boss and we still keep in loose touch, even after all of these years.

a system of inter-states (part 3)

"trouble sleeping, simple fellow?"

(short pause)

"no, I'm just waiting..."

"waiting for what?"

"take a wild guess, sir."

(pause)

"our destination, perchance?"

"huh...funny that you refer to it as our destination."

"why is that funny, lad?"

(pause)

"well, I was assuming that you would be off right away on a return trip or something-"

"or something?"

"sure, sir- or something- I don't know- maybe another leg of your journey."

"my journey?  young man, what in god's name do you mean by my journey?"

"sir, I'm getting tired of you quibbling over my every last word."

"son, you're exaggerating a little- I've noticed you're prone to that...in any case, I'm 'quibbling', as you call it, over every tenth word or so-"

"that still seems like a lot."

(pause)

"well, maybe it is...I'm not sure..."

"well, I'm not sure either, sir."

"at least we have that much in common."

(pause)

"that's quite a bit, if you think about it."

"well, I have thought about it, in fact."

"somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"somehow that doesn't surprise me."

(long pause)

"indeed, somehow that doesn't surprise me at all."

"doesn't surprise me in the slightest bit either, sir."

"why else do you think I would have opened up in the way that I have?"

"you mean about the haiku?"

"no, no- besides, you guessed about that yourself."

"well, sir, you made it painfully obvious, if you don't mind me sayin' "

"you mean about the haiku?"

"tell me a little more about this phenomenal memory you alluded to earlier."

"you mean the wilderness thing-a-ma-jigger?"

"if you want to call it that, sure."

(pause)

"son, are you sure you don't want to try getting a little sleep before we arrive?"

"arrive where?"

"our destination."

"you mean my destination."

"no, fellow, you're wrong again- it's pretty much my destination as well."

"but sir, you're not staying there."

"that doesn't mean it's not my destination."

"where are you headed to next?"

"st. louis."

"st louis?"

"st. louis."

"I was goddamn born in st. louis!"

"good for you, simple fellow."

"I was born under the goddamn st. louis arch!"

(pause)

"yeah, I think I remember reading about that somewhere."

"impossible, sir.  (pause)  is that your fun way of mocking a passenger?"

"I'm not mocking you, son."

(pause)

"well then are you mocking the arch?"

"not at all...I love the arch."

"you love the arch?  really?  you love an inanimate object?"

"it sounds crazy, I know, son.  (pause)  but yes, I love an inanimate object."

"does it love you back?"

"it sounds crazy, I know, son.  (pause)  but it loves me back even more."

(pause)

"you sure you want to start quantifying that sort of thing, sir?"

"well, son, the arch itself is partly a matter of quantity."

(very long pause)

"true enough."

"but not true all the way-"

"correct- mostly true."

"and you know where to draw the dividing line?"

"no idea, sir."

"no idea."

"no idea at all."

"wow.  that makes two of us."

"well, at least we have that much in common."

(pause)

"what do you say about trying to capture the essence of the arch in a simple haiku?"

"a simple haiku, son?"

"why not?"

"where did you ever hear about anybody writing a simple haiku?"

"in high school."

"high school."

"yeah- a world literature class."

"world literature?"

"sir, for chissakes! enough with the quibbling!"

"you mean the wilderness thing-a-ma-jigger?"

"no, I mean the st. louis arch!!!"

"calm down, son...(long pause)...that's better...take a couple deep breaths...besides, I'd rather write one about the st. louis cardinals."

(pause)

"what's that?"

"a baseball team."

"you mean that thing with the bat and the gloves and the um

"well, that's a big part of it, yes...but not entirely..."

"and you know where to draw the dividing line?"

"no idea, son."

"no idea."

"no idea at all."

"wow.  that makes two of us."

"no, actually I know a whole bunch of others..."

(pause)

"yeah, I suppose I do too, sir."

"of course you do, sonny."

(pause)

" 'bout how much longer til we get to..."

"our destination?"

"yeah...that."

"depends on traffic, my boy...weather...overall driving conditions...but barring any breakdowns or accidents...I would say...oh, I don't know...maybe another 5 or 6 hours..."

"that seems doable, sir."

"oh sure- it's entirely doable."

(pause)

"sir, are you sure you aren't exaggerating a little?"

"well son, if I am, I must have picked it up from you just during the past couple of hours."

"am I that bad of an influence, then?"

(pause)

"who said anything about 'bad influence?'  lad, you are sometimes prone to the strangest delusions...if you don't mind me sayin' so..."

"no sir, I've always appreciated your frankness."

"well son, we haiku writers don't really have much else of a choice..."

"yeah, I heard about that too..."

"in the same world literature class?"

"that's right, sir."

"that must have been a halfway decent high school you went to."

"it was."

"you sure you want to start quantifying this sort of thing, son?"

"sir, you're the one who brought up 'halfway decent'."

(pause)

"oh...I suppose that I did...(pause)...son, isn't language itself partly a matter of quantity?"

"maybe so, sir..."

"huh...that answer deserves a little more scrutiny..." 

(very long pause)

(another very long pause)


(it was around this point that we both gradually slipped back into the general silence.)

(there was of course the sound of rushing air and the sound of tires on pavement.)

it was a strange conversation, no question.

I was the only one on the bus!

(the deep night,
the interstate.)

(a strange and somewhat unsettling/unsettled experience.)


(to be continued)