Eternal fascinations.
Measuring circles & David Bowie.
I wanna high kick like that. Geez.
Eternal fascinations.
Measuring circles & David Bowie.
I wanna high kick like that. Geez.
Knecht leapt years ago into the black water of the river.
A leap of faith made in the face of a numinous bemusement.
A mæstro professing the art of conduction.
Cantos ; stanzas ; quatrains ; sections ; headings ; chapters ;
The function of any value such as x wilt result in a set of potential solutions.
f(x) : {set}, {set of the set}
yields Sentence G.
Godel’s lyric.
Taken from a song called Settes.
Cantos: sections dividing long poems.
– ORIGIN C16: from Ital., lit. ‘song’, from L. cantus

Dante sang poems in one hundred cantos.
The infernal first album of nine is the only one that hit the record charts.
Bemusing that he still writes lyrics and songs after his exile from Florence.
The courters and patrons of knightly chivalry frenzied in feigned, immodest outrage at the song of attack (quite poorly executed too, it is said) that
he played his Lady.
But he keeps on playing.
A fine equestrian he would have made.
Socrates and his diatribe will be with Dante shortly
Cursing Odsyyeus again, malifacent Man in Black: agent of injustice to Ajax.
The fellow-temple servants redeemed Parceval just yesterday.
Maestro Virgil’s rock n’ rolling opera
Nine lines feed nine recorders.
Eight channels receive live feed.
Three mixers temper.
A music master architects.
The 1 audits the confluence of the Take Stream.
The 1 who will stop the band,
called And the Band Played On,
only long enough to
allow them to listen.
Players eager to hear themselves.
Impetuous.
Feedback looping.
The impetus of the 1.
The effect of showing the parts their whole.
Any system aware that is under observation is changed by the very act of being observed.
An axiom accepted and admitted to be a theoretical, not practical, concern.
In theory the results may be nullified.
The axiom is ad hoc. Improperly derived.
Invalid even if accurate.
As Wittgenstein’s Mistress, it behooves me to ask this
Question for the Vienna Circle:
Now that you have observed that the act of observation changes the observed,
Do you ever worry for the assured changes in your method, institutions, experiments, results, or selves?
As you observe the knowledge of this observation affecting your observations and that which you observe?
Or is that just another theoretical problem too?
~
Just an observation from this lovesome dummy.

“Well, maybe I could do this too.” Neil Young after hearing the Beatles.
Wittgenstein is proud. No doubt.
“Neil Young Inducts Paul McCartney into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductions 1999” on YouTube
In this six minute clip, he shares early experiences as a musician, as a musician going solo and the impact of The Beatles, particularly (along with many other musicians) his appreciation for Paul McCartney’s bass playing (“He played it left hand,” says Young. Just like Ziggy!).
As a Southerener (Deep South, to be clear) for over thirty years, The Rolling Stones album, Exile on Mainstreet, Neil Young’s Harvest most closely express the energy of the Dirty South, US. Amusing given neither outfit is American. Whatever an American is. <We were founded on philosophy, not history.>
I still remember the silly outrage I felt, when my father explained Neil Young was from Canada.
Canada?! They already have Joni Mitchell, though! I was so jealous. And disappointed that Young was no longer like me in this sense. Typical adolescent stuff, right? Giggle.
Southern Man and Alabama were outsider views?! Impossible. These had been Songs of Lament I could share in. This owed to me imaging that Neil Young’s perspective arose from living in the gothic American South. Whatever that is.
Suddenly (and without warning. Giggle), they were Songs of Condemnation.
Akin to the this sentiment:
As an older sister, I relentlessly hassle my little sister, but if anyone else so much as looks at her with crossed eyes s/he will be destroyed. That’s my effing sister!
Now I’m older and see the error in my thinking
He still sang the Song of the South.
Genius transcends and understands without experience. He’s in my pantheon of geniuses.
ROLL THE TAPE!
Young understands Wittgenstein’s concept of “the duty of genius,” which, as I read it, boils down to two things:
1. To believe there is no true or real difference between you and the great minds we celebrate (e.g. Abraham Lincoln, M.C. Escher, Johann Sebastian Bach, Umberto Eco, St. Augustine, etc).
2. To try to do your best at persuing a more robust mastery of abilities. Should you find a great passion, engage it and enjoy, but do not be discouraged by the heights others achieved.
It is not that you’ll never be that good. It is that everyone has the potential to be that good.
You just gotta try.
It is a sunny day in the Pacific NW.
I watch it through windows while I work.
I day dream about dreams from last night.
Calling out for collection.
Just a collect call or two through conductive cables.
Throw me a land line.
Far too tangled as between
the trident’s skewers under this sea.
I woke up here,
From a saga of the strife-filled dream of another.
Am í of this dream?
Nave, Knave, Navel, Novel
In this sphere, am í finally loųe unfolded?
I have already been so many things.
I feel weary from all this dreaming.
Again. Rising ignorant and beside myself.
Alone, in barbarous prudence.
Hand-made
Handmaid
Maiden
Maid
Mave
Maven
Litle blue polka dots over my ivory stretched canvas.
Pyramid built for a moth.
Knights vainly going to nowhere fast, keep passed.
You Pure Fools will do fine if you do not hide your eyes.
Troubadours, minnesängers, trovères, you already made a feudalization of loųe
Diabolical idiotēs, you are well-endeared.
Venus stays near as my ally.
I carry but a cordon as an ornament of beauty.
My other hand holds a lamp.
Needing enkindling.
Pyramid for moth.
Conducting that underground current into specific key sites.
Where lode-stones are meticulously fawned over through ritual, mysticism and magic. Pressing them firmly into earthen mound prepared.
I feel as though a hermit knight tonight.
I feel like Persephone waiting for the weather to change.
And now I am Kore: Made. Maiden. Mistress.
But Babylon awaits. So I shall abide.
In lovesome patience, heavy.
I stand up.
I sit down.
I look for something.
I think of something else.
I forget what I seek.
I still look for the forgotten thing.
It is not what I wanted anyways.
Where did I last see my attention?
Oh. I have left on it on you.
Again.
The words really do get curious and capricious. I am Alice Ladder; and even the hair on my arms stood on end. Hair-raising. Un baffoon ambulent I must have appeared on my walk home.
Parcigal is lovesome, diligent, loyal and kind. But the gal is also lewd and licentious. A real hærlot. Engaging in all sorts of hærlotries, and what not. She is a complete philolofile. Thinks she’s pretty funny.
Vitz. She really likes words and is a lovesome dummy.
Before we meander Hear I make three formal remarks below. The rest is simply me doing my best.
Alice Ladder
Carroll, VVündųrlvnd
TIMESTAMP: 07/09/10 15:00
》All knowledge is nothing more than symbolism.
》》 Word is bond and magic. Be impeccable. Do not use it against yourself either.
》》》What you see inside the mirror is just an image of reality; which means it is virtual reality. It is a dream.
Revælation
i. surprising disclosure of a previously unknown
ii. remarkable thing
iii. supranatural ; præterhuman ; divine ; daimonion
*remember that we must distinguish between a homo dormien (sleeping human) from a homo vigilance (waking man).
⊙
“A private individual.”
hermit
Just a “fellow temple-servant.”
Homo-doulus with the swans kuknoi.
Word has it that Socrates believed his master [despotēs] gifted him a prophetic capacity [mantike] not inferiors to that of swans.
Metathesis: transposition or interchange.
Metastatics: change and shifting
Metatithemi: interpose, change a meaning.
¤
Maverick.
Pure Fools talk freely.
So listen closely.
Everyone’s gonna shout.
Babble on anon, anon.
“When the history books are written in the future, somebody will have to say, ‘There lived a race of people who had the moral courage to stand up for their rights. And thereby, they injected a new meaning into the vein of history and of civilization.’ And we’re gonna do that.”
Martin Luther King Jr. @ Bus Rally in Montgomery, AL. Dec 05,1955
That is how you speak in a mythos that all can understand.

Five Points South water fountain. Five city streets converge into one confusing intersection.
I lived on the same Birmingham city block as Dreamland BBQ (2nd location) across from Wilson’s Market. The University of Alabama at Birmingham (go Blazers: best mascot in the state: dragon!) is about four blocks away. The ‘professional downtown’ area took about 4 minutes to drive 3-ish miles, over bridges with railroad tracks below. It is a shell of almost-skyscrapers. Sky-risers. Many blocks look forsaken. A seeming majority of professional spaces in these older buildings sit empty and yet, next door you will find the home offices of several major American Banks, Insurance Companies, etc. (Circa 2016 from memory).
All or nothing.
Sloss Furnace looms like an industrial dreamscape an installment of Clive Barker’s Hellraiser universe.
I also lived quite near a number of historical sites that witnessed the struggles of social revolution. I lived in this area 30+ yrs since childhood. I went to public school. The memory of this time is very much a still a live, shared cultural memory. A work in progress. The future needs some magic, leadership, and kindness.
Birmingham incorporated in 1878. Already, there were 20–25 major iron and steel producing blast-furnaces and companies in the Jefferson/Shelby county seat. The name ‘Birmingham‘ was picked to correspond with Birmingham England (the center of that country’s iron industry.) The new Alabama city boomed so quickly that it came to be known as the “Magic City.” It later became known as the “Pittsburgh of the South” after the Pennsylvania center of iron and steel production. Jan 8, 2008
This tribute to local deity Vulcan looks over the city and protects the workers. Many, many moons ago, his arrow would shine at night: green if there were no casualties in the steel/iron mills & red if a person died working. This was discontinued after the number of red light nights began accumulating to a simple majority of the time. The citizens found it distressing. The light was removed. I cannot be sure, but assume this resolved the problem and decreased the number of deaths substantially. Ahem…..

Protest organizers knew they would meet with violence from the Birmingham Police Department and chose a confrontational approach to get the attention of the federal government.[22]
“My theory was that if we mounted a strong nonviolent movement, the opposition would surely do something to attract the media, and in turn induce national sympathy and attention to the everyday segregated circumstance of a person living in the Deep South.”[21]
Wyatt Tee Walker, one of the SCLC founders and the executive director from 1960 to 1964, planned the tactics of the direct action protests, specifically targeting Bull Connor’s tendency to react to demonstrations with violence:
He headed the planning of what he called Project C, which stood for “confrontation”. Organizers believed their phones were tapped, so to prevent their plans from being leaked and perhaps influencing the mayoral election, they used code words for demonstrations.[38]
The plan called for direct nonviolent action to attract media attention to “the biggest and baddest city of the South”.[39]
The final day the arrests totaled 1,200 jailed protesters in the 900 person-capacity Birmingham jail.
King wrote his essay “Letter from Birmingham Jail“. It responded to eight politically moderate white clergymen who accused King of agitating local residents and not giving the incoming mayor a chance to make any changes. Bass suggested that “Letter from Birmingham Jail” was pre-planned, as was every move King and his associates made in Birmingham. The essay was a culmination of many of King’s ideas, which he had touched on in earlier writings.[55] King’s arrest attracted national attention, including that of corporate officers of retail chains with stores in downtown Birmingham. After King’s arrest, the chains’ profits began to erode. National business owners pressed the Kennedy administration to intervene. King was released on April 20, 1963.
The facts of the dogs and hoses, bedlam, and barbarism is imprinted. But King’s language and lyricism during his lifetime would feel right at home alongside the best strings of words that world and classical literature has to offer.
“The right to protest for right.”
“When you are forever fighting a degrading and degenerating sense of nobodiness…”
“Grim and bold determination…grim and firm determination.”
“If we are wrong, justice is a lie.”

Many public domain documentaries can show you the footage immediately following the rally. Here is my summary of one of the most poignant documented parts of this entire Birmingham campaign.
~
In an attempt to handle the anticipated volume of arrests of public demonstrations, Birmingham authorities brought in the big yellow school buses, proudly proclaiming Jefferson County School on the sides,
Dr. King Jr. fills the Birmingham jail with arrestees from demonstration activities enacted over the past few days. 2,500 people were arrested in total and held in the 900-capacity Birmingham jail. Genius. The arrestees were very nearly in number severe enough to overwhelm their captors physically, should they choose to. They did not, of course, but Bull O’Conner saw what could have happened.
The city at stalemate.
“Laying the issue before the conscience of local and national communities.”
While arrested, King very clearly defines that for which the movement campaigns. He calls them “requests”. Adept. The very reasonable nature of these requests and the disproportionate reaction by segregationists shocked the country. It turned out it was VERY different in Alabama.
With great fluidity the demonstration rapidly disperses from the church, issuing onto the public sphere. No yelling, no first pumping aggression. People stream out politely; there is no human spill over into the road way; there is no trodding over “other people’s grass.” It is orderly and almost like a formal dress code was needed to join the campaign. People looked sharp. Jackets and slacks with ties. Dresses, hose, small heel, nothing immodest. The Birmingham authorities wore collared, short-sleeved pseudo dress shirts. The police uniforms aired of casualness in uniform. They were in uniform. That’ll do her well ‘nough. My assumption is their time was spent mobilizing shields, gas, hoses, dogs, practice runs and meetings to review. That was their focus. Such a large number of people dressed decorously makes even the smallest wrinkle in uniform, the slightest slag of an unpressed pant, the casualness of the collared, short-sleeve work shirt, tie-less, top button undone, highly noticeable and suspect.
As a lone policy car siren wails upstream this human river current, it is able to drive easily along a defined and unobstructed roadway. The car might feel encroached upon, but not infringed on by the demonstration Mass; most of whom now smile, broadly and even wave a joyful hello to the cameras which are taking them to living rooms all over the country. Even the little kids know it is ok to be excited–after all the nation just saw.
There is no yelling or antagonizing from the procession of the rally Mass. There is music audible and sung in sincerity.
Then the camera pans back. The police encroach the scene. They are already certain physical violence will break out when the Mass gets to the streets.
This explains why they bring weapons, dogs, body armor and shields. They expect and planned for various eventualities in preparation. They are nervous. They are being filmed. They are scared to engage.
The first two or three police show up on foot “to see what’s going on here” and generally “just wanna make sure we aren’t gonna have no problems, here today.” The Mass gets antsy at their presence but does not provoke. Nods and waves of hello become bitten thumbs, emasculating mocks before a television audience.
The first handful of cops seem to struggle with identifying who exactly should and should not be arrested–appearing, at times, to choose indiscriminately. Then they brought out the dogs and simply let them choose. Now, a smooth river of people flowing turns into a stewing churn of confused particles.
You have heard the sound of what follows as more cops arrive: frenzied barking, panic of voices, whoosh of water bursts. in. spurts. Monsoon pouring onto concrete for 15 seconds. Ceasing. Beginning again.
You can fill in the blanks. That part of the story is very well-known.
Up and down, I will look you…
…a capite ad calcem-head to heel.

And, I remember, last time, how I whistled.
And.
Accessit-he came near
ad captandum-for the sake of catching or pleasing
Do you recall the ancien régime-the ancient of order of things: esse quam videri-to be rather than to seem?


Breath deep, sugarfoot.
Redolet lucerna
It smells of the lamp
astra castra, numen lumen
the stars my camp, the Deity my lamp.
hine lucem et pocula sacra
from this source we receive light and drafts of sacred learning.
Ours is Via vervorum
The Tao of Words.
Back to back hits from The Isley Brothers.
For decades, white rock acts covered the most famed material of The Isley Brothers, particularly, “Shout” and “Twist and Shout“.
The Isleys decided turn about was more than fair play and decided to do the same to music made famous by white artists such as Stephen Stills, Eric Burdon and Neil Young.
The artists they chose to cover were not musicians that were apt to cover a song by the The Isley Brothers. In fact they were contemporary artists with unique voices and sounds they developed themselves. I like that these were the artists covered on Givin it Back. So many ways to interpret Giving it Back as an album title.

Slyly, titling this album Givin It Back, the Isleys prove they can re-enliven the music of others, thoughtfully. Distinguishing “a cover” and “a reinterpretation”.
Ohio/Machine Gun is my favorite gem.
CSNY might as well have written Ohio for the The Isley Brothers to perform.
And, I like CSNY’s version but when it is stood aside The Isley’s version, a certain, subtle social commentary forms. The songs speak to one another. The Isley’s version casts a subtle irony on the earnestly enthusiastic tradition of white protest music. Now, a naïveté tints the original.
The original release of Ohio, topical to the very hostile American political climate of the time, intended to make a statement, to shine light on injustice in order to produce change. It purports righteousness that slides toward self-righteousness when considered with The Isley Brothers rendition.
Among the songs they covered were “Spill the Wine”, “Love the One You’re With”, the social commentary medley of “Ohio” and “Machine Gun” (from Jimi Hendrix), “Fire and Rain” by James Taylor and Bob Dylan‘s “Lay Lady Lay“.
Their covers of “Love the One You’re With”, “Lay Lady Lay” and “Spill the Wine” became charted hits. Bill Withers plays guitar on the Isleys’ version of his “Cold Bologna”.
In 2015, Givin It Back was remastered and expanded for inclusion in the 2015 CD box set The RCA Victor & T-Neck Album Masters 1959-1983.
A good man first introduced me to this jam, and I wanna pass on the soul power!
Turned you on now I cant turn you off.
What a good, good feeling
A great sensation.
Oh you and me, baby, a good combination.
The story of Parzifal crossed my path while reading a Sufi meditation manual. It stated that Parzifal failed because of an incomplete mantle of light, leaving him exposed. He had gone it alone and did not have the band to back him up. And much like every new word, once uncovered, I see this mythos everywhere. So what up with that, huh? I did a little digging. Relax, more like playing in dirt. No one has to do real work here!
Within the mythos the following name variations exist
Percival-Knight of the Round Table in the King Arthur legend
Perceval-romance written by Chrétien de Troyes
Parzifal-romance retold by Wolfram von Eschenbach
Parsifal-Richard Wagner’s opera based on the written poems.
Parzifal is the retelling (ending included this time) of the unfinished romance of another, the Perceval of Chrétien de Troyes whose poem is the earliest extant narrative, known from its prologue as Li contes del graal or ‘The story of the Grail,’ though he claimed that his own patron Philip, Count of Flanders, had lent him its ‘book.’
Wolfram von Eschenbach is heralded as the Medieval German narrative poet. Not too much is known about his life aside from things like how long it was (b.1195 to 1225ish) and other ticky tacky information such as his being born into a Bavarian family of the lower nobility. Mystery and intrigue do appear: He may have served a Franconian lord but as a ministerialis or ‘unfree’ knight bound to serve a lord. Qua knight, he defended his honor anywhere and was also able to change patrons, as he ended up finding his main patron not in his hometown but in Thuringia with its many Mæcenas, like Hermann I. Knights ministerial were the main bearers of the great efflorescence of secular poetry in Germany. Poetry emancipated from clerical domination during the first half of the Hohenstauffen period.
“Many passages of the original have virtually no syntactical structure–Parzival is definately no book–and so the bare act of translation has inevitably tidied them up.”
Translator A.T. Hatto (org.1980; reprinted 2004). Parzifal. Penguin Books. London, England. Foreward p12
Born to Louis II Landgrave of Thuringia & Judith of Hohenstaufen, Hermann I was born into Ludovingian nobility. He welcomed societies of letters and Minnesänger to his castle, the Wartburg. From 1172 to 1211, the Wartburt (‘watchtower’) was the most important princes’ courts. Eschenbach, in 1203, wrote part of his Parzifal here.
Minnesang is German for “love song.” This tradition flourished during the period of medieval German literature starting 12th century continuing into the 14th.
Minnesänger (aka minnesingers) referred to people who wrote and performed Minnesang.
A single song was called a Minnelied. These names rooted from minne, the Middle High German word for ‘love,’ which was the Minnesang’s main topic. This reflected part of a larger movement occurring during the High Middle Ages which included the Provençal troubadours and northern French trovères: a written lyrical love poetry, concerned within the tradition of courtly love and chivalry, sometimes vulgar, funny, intellectual, formulaic, even metaphysical.
For the French trouvéres, ‘courtly love’ expressed erotic desire as well as spiritual attainment (and all the spaces between them). A love at once illicit and morally elevating; passionate and disciplined; humiliating and exalting; human and transcendent.
Eschenbach asserts he follows the one “Kyot the Provençal,” sender of the ‘true version,’ that supplied additional material drawn from Arabic and Angevin sources. Many scholars consider Kyot to be of Eschenbach’s imagination, thus part of the fictional narrative. This ignites a controversy. Should the remarks be taken at face value or was he speaking in the way of scholars initiating paradigmatic change: not impassioned against his predecessor as much as being ironically respectful of the ones who came before him, even if he essentially mocked them while recapitulating them to his audience.
German composer Richard Wagner loosely based his opera in three acts, Parsifal (WWW 111).
Wagner’s spelling of Parsifal instead of the the Parzifal he had used up to 1877 is informed by one of the theories about the name Percival, according to which it is of Persian origin, Fal Parsi meaning “pure fool.“
Unger, Max (1932-08-01). “The Persian Origins of ‘Parsifal’ and ‘Tristan'”. The Musical Times. 73 (1074): 703.
ISSN 0027-4666
First, we drove close down by the river: just to look up at the the truss bridge monolith.
With unbothered eyes, we traced along the interconnecting triangles that criss-cross and distribute mass in motion.
The Parker Truss took the standard triad of members: chords, verticals, diagonals.
But this Parker camel-backs with the upper chord and consists of exactly five segments, not three.
The triad but with a pair of camel humps to top it. Accessorized.
Stressed sometimes with tension, sometimes with compression, and sometimes both, in response to dynamic loads.
“It is almost a full moon?”
Untarnished by the rust of daily practicum and edified on precipice and to edge, the bridge is high-sided as though set to plummet.
Just a scaly spanner anchored in a bit of wet water, hydrating ferric oxides on wrought iron.
Reddish-brown-yellow.
A little shunt allowing red-blood cell autos to flow, permitting the heart-engine dry passage so it can cross over, neatly, without going all the way under.
“An old design and cheap.”
“The physics of statics.”
“Fancy way to say that it works, huh?”
Then we climbed the steep hill by the river: just to look down on varicose vein highways zig zagging over dirt legs.
Without the clean shave of hot asphalt pressed tight by the compaction of Caterpillars, tires tire along dusty bumps.
Yet, the paved jet-streams below us back up.
Multiple bottlenecks and arterial traffic jams clot the circulation.
Blood pressure rises under this cellular road rage.
[ Court etiquette deserves a modicum of decent civility.
Coquette or not, it is not about dress, but language (un)used.
Courters do best by being dumb(founded), but not stupefied, together.
Stupid talks a big game and sings with precious, unnatural affectation.
Dumb keeps quiet and abides.
Until.
Like windows. Still.
Without dressings.
My temples tighten, feeling the impetus but not wanting to be too impetuous.
“Good, huh? Can we go dancing now? Kiss hard like we did last time. Get felled and sleep?”
“We came here so you could show me what it was before. The part prior to this now we presently share. So tell it in words out loud.”
I wonder at the time:
“I worked hard; so he could get one degree more. I arranged to rearrange. But new arrangements required rearranging. Then a couple of years later, I prepare to rearrange again.
Because when I wanted out of my hometown, the question got asked:
(Good prospects out west.)
He prospected jobs.
Deeds are not always actions. Sometimes just unimbued words.
~
He asked the cashier to break a twenty and change one dollar into four quarters and nineteen into ones.
Automated doors. Artificial wind.
Plunk. Twist.
Black cat.
Pink elephant.
Costume piece with a bit of black cord.
Lost as easily
Release/d
~
“Now I remember why we came back.”
“It looks different through new eyes, huh? Let me be charmed.”
Giggles.
~
Then we climbed back down the steep hill by the river: just to flip on the car’s radio, turn on the headlights, and sway. Spotlight dancing on grass while crickets chirp ambiance.
From the album In the Country, please find 3:30 of loveliness.
Cause never was the reason for the evening.
Drop you cynicism and dig it.
…..when I say I’m spinning round, round.


The above is incorrect. Just my opinion, in light of the below.




Trestles tower above, criss-crossing the distribution of mass.
Edified in engineering.
Precipice and Edge. High-sided to deep – plummet.
Span bridging here-to-there.
Anchored in shallow waves.
A shunt by-passing the river below, a detour for red blood celled cars.
Highways criss-crossing
Varicose veins over dirt legs.
Dusty and bumpy.
Tiring transport.
Arterial jams, backed-up traffic
Clotting main veins.
Blood pressure from cellular vehicular road-rage.

Parcigal learned the powers of personal appearance, nearly two decades past. She learned its ability to exploit and/or to be exploited, nearly a decade ago. Hell, all gals did where she was from, Alabam, the Dirty South. Personal appearance stood as the primary source of feminine efficacy (next to blood kin).
The place where they raised her never addressed that which she regularly pondered: the long game for pretty lady face.
This type of prettification during youth resulted in an aged-self prettifying to remain relevant, as a new generation of beautiful gals arose.
The true Tao seemed to be finding Beauty unmasked.
Bare face.
No jewelry.
Unadorned.
She started to let her face be as it is. Washed it, moisturized it, but that was all.
She became the appearance of the female she was.
She did this, going about daily public interactions, until she knew her face,
Became the female she is.
Then she wields the power of makeup’s masking properly. Not defensively.
Parcigal lived her dream of Art. She reinterpreted Myshkin anew, unbound to previous ties made.
Allegory.
Of course now, books are more often quoted than read.
The once enumerable is now innumerable.
Hypertextuality.

Parcigal recoils from monastic traditions. It is being one a crowd, faceless.
Initiation required heavy control over the individual’s entire life. Gives very little free will. They seperate sexes, assuming gals are even allowed at all. It imparts a tacit intent to shame the sexual nature of the h. sapien mammal. She does not doubt the resiliency of these traditions. But, her energy does not run properly in their circuits.
She recoils from secret societies and erudite traditions, because she distrusts agendas she agrees to but cannot fully see. It feels, in her mind, like blindly giving away power.
But she is wary. She is also extremely lovesome.
A lovesome nature required diligence.
What was the use of sensualism with a resonant partner?
Why was this primal magic so hidden?
Magnetism and electricity.
Conductors.
Conductive bodies are conducive to utilizing each resonant body.
By nature.

So, in her Fool way, she left her Ewer the note below.
The morning after she spent her first night in the handmade.
Before she snuck out (after two minutes of hard doting on his sky-eyes) without rousing him.

The sun begins to make cameo appearances.
The trail crew came through.
Cutting back.
Below is tribute to felled ones.
Ready to be reabsorbed into the ecosystem.
No waste.




The water rose.
See the fish (salmon) ladder flow from both sides


