All is right and all together now.
Dear readers who know the 2 things—please do not spoiler it for the dear Readers who do not wish to know. The same way you might come to understand some folks be harder to wake up than others.
I effing hate waking up and I effing hate people who do not hate waking up (at least while I’m waking up).
I’m from the dirty South, bible belt, farthest state from the Mason Dixon line in which you can find yourself.
It’s like this.
Jim from the starred place above.
My clan comes from LA. My family transplanted to AL and are like the neuvo rich, but more accurately, my Tribe would refer to it as “neuvo [upper]middle class.”
Labels are paradoxical: just as likely to make the clumsy end his own life as it is likely to save the life of a different, yet also clumsy man.
My Tribe called my Quetzal-style of writing pretentious.
My bad (if you feel the same way, that is).
“Pretentious” is not something members of White Suburbia or the PanPublic like to be described as.
Apologies, here i offered you something (the 2nd thing for Readers who know the 2 things) and Ive rambled far too long without making good on it.
Readers who dont know the 2 things, you will inevitably infer (deduce) the 2nd thing if you continue reading. I feel that I, your Scribe, confess this sooner than later. Please understand that this is the inexorable way of Story–the Tao of Word. I’m leading you through circular ruins and shrub mazes, to a point that you fear Reader, and I your Scribe will inexorably find ourselves.
This is the nature of Prose.
We will perform the famed Algerian Boot Strap trick together. My tribe calls such phenomenon, generally, “magic trick” or “illusion” and they are performed or inacted by Magicians and Illusionists.
What you and I will do, dear Reader is Magic but it is no trick.
There is nothing to fear and nothing to doubt and I anticipate you being in suspense as you wait for reality to bear this out.
I demand nothing and this will make the Dummy want to give me everything. Butill gladly refuse everything and accept nothing until you ask
Dostoyevsky said: at first art imitates life, then life imitates art, then finally life takes it’s very existence from art
WrittenCasey 