NOT EDEN YET
'Trees like castles, and berries we can ride.
Sunlight that sings and water that glides, wetness
and glory, joy and every possibility, just fragrant
in the air. It's not Eden, yet (but we're getting
there?)...' The man was talking like that, up at
the head of the room : First Scientific Capillary
Oasis, a Conference for the Doomed. Something
like that; that's how it was billed in the lobby.
I paid the hipster dude at the front desk my
twenty dollars to get in ('no money, just the idea
of money'), and entered through Columbia's erstwhile
famous portals - a scum-college on the banks
of
a make-believe Nile. Sat me down, and listened.
-
'In humankind's present day, midst all the joys
and sorrows, we find our selves trapped. Ten thousand
things going on at any one time, yet we can experience
only one. Not here! In this vast and thickly forested
future we are working on, all things, ALL I say!, will
be experienced at once; every notion, every possibility
at one time.' I thought to myself 'No limits? Just the
idea of limits?' He continued, about apparent presences,
about images and illusions and the hologram of life.
-
I watched this girl nearby - she was better than
anything
he could say : tendentious tits, calling to me, awkward
flourish, beautiful sense of self, a presence to maim
even
a matador. Then I began getting worried: what if this
guy
stated 'No beauty! Just the idea of beauty.' Eden lost a
bit
of luster with that idea. He began again railing against
limitations, there human mind and all its boxes, the
rain
we let in to spoil our party. I found myself getting
bored,
('No interest. Just the idea of interest'). I wanted
out,
where I could yet be free. I went back to the Nirvana-
like front desk, asking for my money back. The wise-ass
kid had the nerve to say: 'No refunds, just the idea of
refunds.'
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