Firstly
The land may have changed but the stars are the same
As the night I first stood on my own;
The water’s as wet as it was when we met
When I chose not to live life alone;
The air that was there when our babies were born
Is mostly the same (though more cold);
And all that’s aflame will extinguish the same--
But how did I get to be old?
I’ve sown on the earth so much more than my worth
That I puzzle: from whence did it come?
And blood multiplies whether dumb whether wise
Increasing in balance and sum;
My words have enacted, my words have impacted,
Events unforeseen and untold;
While still burns my heart for you as from the start for
you--
How did we grow to be old?
Secondly
In this dream--a one in twenty-five thousand, as so I
estimate the number of dreams I’ve had--I have a collected set of compact discs
(by whom? I don’t quite recall) and I’ve lost or damaged the final platter of ‘em. So what do I do? Fortunately I’m working at a place
that’s like The Bob Miller Bookroom only it deals in music and such--this is
because Fabio Parovel worked at HMV when I worked at
the bookstore--so I order a new set and return the one I have (that’s missing
the last disk, remember) and everything works out in the end. I have my disks,
and everything’s swell.
Unfortunately (so I invent), all
this results in a mid-air collision over
You see, responsibility spread thinly across everyone
results in a loss of responsibility. It’s axiomatic!
But in a narrative (of any sort) we have to privilege
that which is contained in the narrative. Thus, logic itself gets defined by
the narrative. And in a narrative we can’t appeal to reason outside itself.
(Consider how far you could get reading an
Leave Walter alone!
Thirdly
Whenever I’m at the
Everyone’s talking about bringing Islam into the
twenty-first century. Heck, I’d settle for it getting into the eleventh
century.
Faulting
Fourthly (Monster)
A very evocative title! Memorable and terse
You’ve really captured this character well. Off to a good
start
This is implausible but I expect it to pay off!
There! You tricked me! Just when you thought you’d seen
it all
Heavenly phraseology
I want to skip ahead--very tense
This is fulfilling of last semester’s promise
Unbelievable--in a good way!
This will be so easy published
Where are you getting these words from?
Four syllables: Steven Spielberg
Are your parents gifted too--I have a theory
Fantastic
Last paragraph’s always nerve-wracking
Even the last word is gemlike
I’m exhausted--what a rollercoaster ride!
A++++!
See me
Fifthly
-Fifth lesson, we’re on the fifth lesson. Where are we?
-I think we’re on lesson five, sir.
-Right you are, in an essential phenomenological way.
What part of the fifth lesson, d’ye
think?
-5.1? 5.a? How about 5.a.1?
-I like the sound of that one! Yes, 5.a.1 is the place to
start! Why?
-Is it because it sounds scientific?
-Yes, yes, but why else?
-Because it implies ... incompleteness?
-No. I mean, yes! And why?
-Because we’ll have to have a total of three arguments at
least.
-Name them.
-There would be 5.a.1, 5.a.2, and 5.b. Minimally.
-We would be able to fill at least twelve minutes with
that. Correct?
-I’m paying for a full hour, sir
-Quite right! So we’ll need more subdivisions! How many
can we have?
-In the third lesson we got up to 3.ad.27.f.1 and
3.ad.27.f.2.
-Oh my, wasn’t that extraordinarily scientific of us? Or
is the term scientistic? Which is the positive term
and which the negative?
-Generally speaking, scientific is the good one.
-Very well, scientific. What were those arguments again?
-I’ll go back into my notes. 3.ad.27.f.1.
"The shorter the nose, the more susceptible to
arthritis." 3.ad.27.f.2. "Likewise,
covalence depends on the possession of a non-deviated septum."
-Goodness, what reasoning! One can only hope to reach
such a summit again!
-Perhaps today is that day.
-So: off we go: 5.a.1. Two thoughts.
Where there are two thoughts there are three.
Sixthly
Dear London Auntie,
I can’t make up my mind! On my recent Progress through
Without a doubt you should go! Life is for the living,
and you only live once. Wrap your troubles in dreams, and godspeed!
Dear London Auntie,
Recently I have been having the urge to kill prostitutes.
Whither from whence do these urges come? Perhaps it is because my mother was a
filthy slut; perhaps it is because my father was an
homosexual pederast. (Who knows the nature of our souls?) I have discovered a
method of murder that is not only foolproof but will allow me the chance to eat
whore liver (which I believe to be the finest anywhere. However, I am
hesitating. Do you think I should go ahead with my plan?
Without a doubt, you should proceed! Life is for the
living, and you only live once. Wrap your troubles in dreams, and godspeed!
Seventhly (On the Beach)
You’re seen one, so you think you’ve seen them all. For
example, today we went to a beach in the north part of Port Hood. We walked
past a shower- and wash-room and a building that some time in the past sold foodie goodies. (I had never seen either before.) Then down
a sandy path over a couple big dunes, past some rocks, and finally we were at
the water’s edge. We walked left some distance and dropped our junk there.
Behind us was something of a tidal bore; a long split running away diagonally
from the shore. I climbed up, I climbed through; it was entirely familiar, but
I had never been there before. Or I had been there before and had forgotten.
One or the other had to be true and the other false. If the latter is true, so
be it. If the former is true, then what beach was I thinking of? There’s a
possibility I had ‘merely’ dreamt of such a place. In the end, what can we
know? Maybe half of what we see comes from our dreams, cleverly disguised as
real experience. Like I said, it was very hot on that beach, and the sun almost
certainly fried up my brains.
Eighthly
It was right there.
I called Peter, "Come in my office, I’m having
trouble with your spreadsheet."
He came immediately.
Why so quickly?, I wondered. I
am his boss, and female. He was there, standing on the other side of my desk.
"Come here, take a look at this."
And it was right there.
I was sitting, in my expensive ergonomic chair, and he
was standing right beside me. I could smell him.
"I can’t get it to spit out the right info. It wants
to start on the 29th of May; I was it to start on the first day of June."
It was right there. He didn’t bend over. I’m his female
boss, and it was right there.
He said, "I think you’re pulling the info from the
wrong table. Show me your formula."
I opened my sheet for him to see. His vision was
extraordinary. He could see it clearly from way up there.
"Change your source. That’s all.
"I can see what you’re doing. I’ve done it
myself."
It was right there.
Then he left.
I took a pill.
My hands went into my lap.
It had been right there.
Ninthly
St Peter said, "And on we go. Now the next page of
your Book is curious. All it says is, ‘penis enlarger.’ What can you tell me
about that?"
"Oh golly. Do I really have to tell you
about that?"
"Yup."
"It wasn’t a real penis enlarger. So why does the
Book say that?"
"This is the book of your soul. It’s not the Sears
catalog. You called it that."
"Huh. Well, it was actually a kind of a vacuum
cylinder. I think it was supposed to be used for making foamy sauces or
something. But when I saw it there in Walmart, I
thought: penis enlarger."
"Naturally."
"What?"
"I am cracking wise."
"Hmm, well, don’t quit your day job."
"I won’t. So, about your
penis."
"I took it into a dressing room."
"Oh my God."
"And I ... tried it on. Just then, a fire alarm went
off. So I pulled up my pants and out I went."
"With it still attached, I suppose."
"Yes."
"Theft."
"Yes."
"You detached it since then, I see."
"Yes, as soon as I could."
"And kept it."
"I felt I couldn’t very well return it, could
I?"
"I suppose not." St Peter tore the page out and
shoved it into a fold of his robe. You are forgiven this one."
"What are you going to do with the sheet?"
"An aide-mémoire.
"I write comic novels."
Tenthly (some truth)
Mary told me that Sarah was off to stay with [---], the
daughter of Rose. [---] was living with her aunt and not her mother, Rose,
because, as [---] has it, Rose is insane.
Later that day we met up with Rose. We chatted with her
in the office of the cottages. I was looking and listening very carefully,
looking for the signs of madness, and, indeed, I detected more than one.
Still later that day I told Mary that perhaps there was
something to the idea that Rose is mad, whereupon Mary laughed to tell me that
the Rose (the mother of [---]) to whom references of madness had been made was
not the Rose I had examined for insanity that day. Two different people,
entirely unrelated.
Which leads to the hypothesis that all women named Rose
are to some degree insane.
Another day, as we were walking along the highway from
one place to another, a large young white dog came bounding up to us. Naive,
the thing was bounding back on forth on the road (of two lanes). We got the dog
over to Seaside Convenience where (must I note reluctantly?) the manager took a
photo of the dog and posted the picture on some kind of community page on Facebook.
(I was incredibly angry for some time. I imagined cutting
off the owner’s head.)
Later that day, when we were going in the other
direction, we stopped at Seaside Convenience so I could buy cigarettes. The
owner was there; the dog’s master had been located; the dog had been out all
night. I think they were re-united not long after. I hope so.
Eleventhly
Everything has to come to an end, and this thing is
coming to an end.
I wish I had time to thank everyone involved, but I
don’t.
After all, it’s taken me fifty years to write this.
Farewell, all! This is the end! Not much more! Just ...
goodbyes!
There’s something terrible about endings. Maybe that’s
why I employ them so much.
Time to sign off, time to close
the volume. Time to look out the window. End.
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