12,977. RUDIMENTS, pt. 1116

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1116

(my day? ok.)

Well I went back to the library

today, long after all this Covid

crap, and now they've re-opened,

enough anyway to take back books

that have been overdue since whenever

human lockdown started in March.

(That's funny, in that a march is also

actually a lockstep!)....It wasn't really

'open,' so, once again, they're not

telling the truth, even about that.

You can't go inside. There's a geeky

masked lady at the lower level doorway.

If you've pre-ordered a book and been

notified, she'll hand it off to you. If

you're merely returning those old

loaned books, there's a bin to drop

it in. I specifically just walked on

in with no mask, stopping 6 feet,

1 inch from her desk, and she smiled.

'How are you?' she said, 'how have you

been?' I said all good, and she said

'Returns over there; just drop them

into the bin.' And I did so, and left.

It made me sad to think that the

world's come to this; she, seemingly

following her orders to the hilt: to

be robotic yet happy too. At the same

time. Strange, but it all seems the

opposite of books, to be treated in

such a climate as this  -  harsh and

literal. A book is a gateway out, but

these ways and means are all locks

and chains. No one gets that. Actually,

I wanted to tell her that 'I am from the

planet Grayber, and we do not have

such things there. We communicate by

essence, and the forces we do not like

we eliminate by essence as well. Our

world thus remains pretty clean. We

don't even have cemeteries!' Not

sure, though, she'd get any of that, or

not see it as a threat and just turn me

in. I learned about a lot of this from

an alien acquaintance I once had, in

NYC. His name was Rareleighbourne

Fischbein, a likeable guy; but all his

stories were really out there. Like that

whole 'Planet Grayber' thing. It's not

true at all, he said, though that's what

they report when asked. An alien does

not 'come' from another 'place.' That

would be ridiculous; and he'd always

then go on about the need in humans

of placating their desire for stability

by demanding physical planes and

presences, thus imagining the entire

pretty world, which they then begin

immediately ignoring and destroying.

He said it was like with children, when

you give them blocks or something  -

or even sand castles at  the beach.

They'll do all the work to erect something,

quite willingly and with verve, and then,

without fail, in the end start kicking it

in or otherwise destroying it and taking

the same amount of joy and verve from

that as when they were erecting it.

That, he said, was one of the problems

with physicality.

-

I immediately sensed what he meant,

almost as if it just settled within me

and he didn't even need to say more.

His point was that all that planet stuff

and the rest is false. It's just imaging and

they're really all dead places, frozen in

a space from another time. As an alien,

he never 'traveled' airways or spaceways

like that, like all the stories and tales

of flying saucers and stuff have it. There's

no physicality like that at all. He called us

all Doubting Thomas. But, hey! he gave

me an exception, but said little more on

that count. All that planet and travel stuff

is all human-based, almost as if it's just a

grounds for discussion, or a base for the

premise of what we call 'being.' I thought

that was pretty cool. Lots of what he said,

yeah, I asked him to repeat.

-

Like about colors; that one always stuck

with me, the way portrayals always have

saucers and bright lights and the usual

reds and greens of our spectrum. He said

those colors don't exist; are base-primitive

in any case, and if we saw their colors, in

any fashion, they would be colors we'd

never seen before, and, being transformative,

they would alter us, immediately. I never

got sure about that (but I did observe that

he could light matches just by looking

at them; which was odd). And another

thing I noticed, which was freaky  -  we

were sitting at a dive bar, sort of a half

dump with food at the tables, at the far

west end of 21st street, and no matter

how much money he had out (I paid for

nothing, also), which was like, perhaps,

a few fives and some singles and a ten,

let's say) each time the girl came by with

something and took some money, the

money instantly always stayed the same

amount. OK, don't believe me, but it

was weird.

-

 The sort of things I've experienced in

my life have always been a bit weird. I

always thought it stemmed from the

of my initiation into working life  -  to

start, by the front bumper-coupler of a

Diesel locomotive. Pretty nice touch.

I carried that with me a long time, until

it became useless. Like the asshole guy

at the draft board, when they finally

caught up to me, dragged me in for

interrogation at Whitehall Induction, 

and, after reviewing the doctor-note 

my  mother had sent  -  which was a

medical history of the train wreck and

all that, simply said, 'That was a long 

time ago; we're only concerned with 

now.' Dumb bastards. What really ticked

me off was that I could have said that

about there dumb-shit war in Vietnam.

Dienbienphu? That was 13 years ago;

I'm only concerned with now.'

-

Nothing ever works out. Everything gets a

glitch. Rareleighbourne himself had said

to me that he was fully aware of what I'd

gone through (Hey! I didn't even know 

the guy), but it was for a specific purpose

and I should just sit still. Whatever that

meant. Anyhow, what got me started on

this here was  -  if you recall  -  the library

lady with the willing mask. And what I

wanted to tell her, in a passing way. About

going into her astronomy section, looking

up Alpha Star B2016, Constellation of

Delphius, some Sigma galaxy crap I can't

fully remember, and there she's maybe get

a glimpse; of my home star, which didn't

really exist but what the heck. Librarians

love all that reference stuff. Rareleighbourne's

gone too, and his crazy, nicely materialized,

paper-money. USA, Planet Earth, NYC.

What he said was, as I recall, 'It's always

short term, in your terms, when I show up

here  -  to take someone back. Someone of

your nature, much, who's given too much

away, too much info, or is about to be

found out. Only here for the instant, 
and then we're gone again.'