RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,110
(a cry for certainty)
I almost hesitate to follow up
the previous chapter by calling
this Part Two, as if, within a
context, I don't mean 2x2 to
the growth/infinite, 2-deep
over 2 transformed and but
one of two-infinitesimal.
Know what I mean?
-
Some portion of all this has
to do with speed. I think as
appearances slow down, life
begins to appear more solid.
It's difficult to tell someone
that it's all illusionary, and that
as they 'stand still' they are actually
on a 'globe' that is both spinning
and free-falling through space,
but within a 'bubble' of context
in which they and their effects
notice none of that and are not
in any form reminded or made
cognizant of those actions and in
which everything else is doing the
same thing. Ongoing. Concurrent
(Those two words again!).
-
There's a message on my board
here that tells me today is an
invite to some round-table
discussion with a Congressman,
presented by and sponsored
with the Ethical Culture Society
or somesuch. Sorry, folks, but
in my spinning speed-factory of
illusion I'll be skipping that event,
and who in the world does such
a slime-ball character as that
Congressman think he is? People
become so dead and concrete like
that and they thereby make a dead
and concrete world which, to their
own advantage, they pretend to
propagate onto others : conclusions,
assumptions, memory references,
etc. My own conclusion is that
everyone is so pathetic. How would
I address him on that count? I
couldn't tear through the tinfoil in
which he is ensconced.
-
There's a spot in my heart for most
anything, and I dreamed last night
that I witnessed a repo-man go
by a crowd listening to a comedian
who was going on about a skit with
a horn in it and which had been
referenced by George Harrison in
a song. Huh? The repo man, who
was slowly trolling the street, was
driving a 1953 Dodge tow truck,
the old kind like you no longer see,
with the chain and hook hanging
from the hoist-lift on the rear. It
was pretty amazing. I wasn't even
sure what time I was really in, nor
if he'd already taken my own car
the day before, which in this dream
was still missing.
-
Isn't it funny, as well, to see a name
out of context? One that has lost all
real meaning except to those of a
certain time period, after which, to
others, it reverts to being just merely
another name: George Harrison. It
could be anyone, after all.
-
Life curls over on itself and engulfs
its own momentary meaning - things
we maybe delineate by years and dates
and eras, but which, to time and within
time, have no real meaning except for
that given context. It's quite terrifying
actually, how things are always in
turmoil and embroiled into their own
feverish mass of heated, molecular
activity. Which we 'call' it. Which
is, after all, only within a tiny band
of that which we call 'temperature'
and to which we amend the word
'Heated.'
-
When we are 'born' to these illusions,
we are already demanding certainty.
The infant's cry is a cry for certainty.
The answer for which? There is none.
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