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Parçigal’s Tao
She’s clumsy. A rushy bumbler who tries too hard and cares too much. Still, she managed/s to be ineffective. She had just been here so long.
She forgot other people could not tell right away.
And so, she had raced in and embarrassed herself with a bit too much gusto, in front of her new acquaintance/s.
Or, so she assumed.
She wanted him to take her dancing, places where real players made analog and live digital music they converted to other mediums afterward.
In a room where people were still allowed to smoke.
Even when they choose not to.
It would be loud, crowded, and their lungs would hurt the next day.
Do look over
I saw the truck before and after the Air Stream.
That dog barks outside again.
I feel alone and surrounded by people hoped to be alone with.
Goodly strange.
One moment full
One moment empty. Pendulous. Diabolical diabolos diabolus.
We are full of shit.
Do, dear. Relentless. Malleable. Interminable.
Hard C, soft c, Mid-c.
Do you require feedback?
Someone to laugh uproariously?
Should I hold you back in order to urge you forward?
Am I all bark with no bite?
Insignia
The Chestnutt Mare
Callæbus eqqus is an Open (printed) Book.
Be content with the content? Slide your saucerful full of secrets over here?
Disappointed roundtable debators believed that
She had been animal
And mineral
And element,
And Creature,
And Cretin.
And a camællia.
The wandering star gent is part sugar-foot.
A real Achilles heel for him when it melts in the rain.
Sugary sweet
But, highly soluable.
Death and the Lover.
But, she knows him under different handles.
They rotate who leads the dance to each saraband song.
Often swapping pieces of clothes
Endless variations.
Her suspension of choice made him slay her.
What choice?
Can anybody make anybody do anything?
The difference between clumsy, specious interference and kind, capable manipulation?
Fuzzy adjustments.
She lays the pen aside in such a heat of words.
He called her to come to him from an ocean away. In her stomach and heart, she already then felt bits of twine string loosely drape. Cordons that began slithering into knots pulling tighter and tighter.
She felt it and she said so.
“I promise I feel those sweet fingers clasping at my heartstrings. That is all I promise in the right-now. But, darling, I fear I love you.” she said
How much emotional energy, she wondered? She ought not be fearful of loving, but this one was something else in her mind. This man was impeccable.
In love vs. I love.
One (N) to the right of (I)
is all it takes.
The difference between loved and beloved.
Fitted and bespoke.
She knew quick that she loved deep. And, still could not abstain from diving head first. No one had ever spoke of weal to her before. She wanted to court him and please him and displease him. But, then her imagination spun some daydreams she presented to him. A bombardment of her ideas presented in delicious, but inexperienced confusion. In retrospect, she shuddered at how giddy the effort must have seen. She felt sad like maybe she blew the idea and made herself look ridiculous. Then she grinned and found a laugh, because at least she tried.
She closed her eyes, imagined he could hear her speak and she said aloud,
I’ve not known eyes like yours, or words used like yours. You are special and rare. The way you move through time. The way time moves through you.
You wear it, those lines, on your face. You will only grow more captivating. I am too old to be this young. You’re so well aged. It could sweet. And even naughty.
The cost of a swoony swoon. The dreams of a romantic mystic. The desires of a feral bitch rising from within. Howling and sniffing.
Then she heeded the call and he was the Genuine article.
Arriving on pins and needles; visiting on tenterhooks; finally
She left slain.
Embarrassingly taken aback by how he puts his hands in his denim pants pockets. Adored. Astir in wonderful calmness, he made mere moments eons with just a bit of string or a yarn to spin. Captivating her wonder. A dream of an artful life
She could recall none other that spoke to her as he did.
In fact, he spoke to her about those things most amazing.
He spoke of passions because he knew them too. His laugh endeared. And his smile was usually close-lipped.
She returned home. Visitors at her home. A small party. A confusing dissonance. Time fell strange.
Three days after returning home, she knew with certainty that she wanted to return to him. She wanted to be by him. Partners in art and crime.
She wanted to
Suggest it might…
Concede it must….
Surrender her nerves with a hard swallow
Submit to hot tears.
She wants a new life with him. Silly girl. She knows though, she can do it on her own and feel proud but she could be in love and do it.
Silly. She feels unhip. But, she knows exactly how she feels. And, she knows it may be just a pretty lie she tells herself.
Yet, her intuition just smiles and whispers: it could be sweet. There are so many possible movements to take on this chessboard, that it becomes a real treat when you have a moment where you know exactly what you want and you can accept that it may not happen.
The difference between I don’t think so and I hope so.
Again, alone in her room, she closed her eyes, imagined he could hear her speak and she said aloud,
“I think I see you the way you wish the world would see you, dearheart. You look fine in these eyes. Fingers such as yours come carrying currents. Diligence meets nuanced, indicating well-honed. Your voice, its quiet, clear enunciation draws my ears. I feel you pull slowly on my vibrations. Shifting energetic threads like braiding hair. Bringing to balance the diabolus.
Worth all risk.
She came from a place of dinosaurs.
She moved to a shiny silicon land where lives occur in hands and eyes look down at screens. People speak in hashtags now. A girl 5 years younger laughed as she told her she listens to CD’s in her car. The last physical format to kill off, I am a CD in a digital town.
So, a compact disc chances upon a cassette tape.
Howl So
You, enter please. Come to me, catchling.
I hear you in the forest, leaves ruffling from your sneaky skulking.
I smell you just as before.
A long knight’s sleep jolts minds into new dimensions.
I turn
To look at you.
And, i feel what i want
with ecstatic desire. Enrapt.
Kindled flame fells me to prostrate before all and everything
And the capricious sense of love reawakened.
Violent like a wary animal who wants to eat from
your hand
And i might nip your fingers when i let you.
Like a salt-lick.
I shall know you when i see you again. I see you everywhere.
I stalk that visage. I look in the eyes of all
Briefly.
Just
In-case.
Surrender to you and the mastery of your pleasure,
Of your discomfort.
Your naughty silence.
Those sweet, heavy shoulders.
My reserved disposition conceals me as i see past a veil
Into the swirl of thoughts of
Desires to devour.
Devour you in shameful kind need.
The mastery of submission may make a Master submit?
I want to shake you from your discomfort. then comfort you
While you shake.
GOODDAY
My breath does as it wilt
right, exactly now.
It doesn’t pant; It does not (hold).
But, it breathes
shallow then a sudden, pumping rush of
Air of exhalation.
…strange rhythm.
My emotions are being redistributed,
my memories, now defragged from sleeps processes,
reorient themselves
relative
to their new locale.
Strangers in a familiar region. One they
have only seen mapped.
The world within folded all in-on itself and
Refilled in the converse.
Process
Of
Inversion.
The new in-side
is
the Apposite Opposite
What She Said.
“Daymare,” I say.
“Oh, you mean like what happens and what you see when you are awake?” the blonde asks.
I open my mouth to speak, but catch myself in time to shut it.
A quick grin.
Lips part, mouth reopens, tongue helps the organ say:
“That’s heady,” I say.
“You should see my nightmares.”
That’s, literally, what she said.
A Blip I Clipped
I am rather ignorant about the upcoming move to 5G: the latest wireless communication protocols which will be replacing the current 3G and 4G systems.
I thought this well-written, informative, and impressively concise.
I.e. I thought it worth sharing.
Parçigal’s Appearance
Parçigal learned, nearly a decade past, the powers of appearance and its ability to manipulate others. Howl, all gals did. The power of pretty and/or style was the source of feminine efficacy where she was reared. What she noticed, but no one addressed, was the long-game. Prettification during youth resulted in an aging-self prettifying to remain relevant.
The true Tao seemed to be finding beauty unmasked. Bare-face. No jewelry. Unadorned. So, she stopped staring at her own reflection. Hair pulled up, with a disregard for style. Others treated her differently. They ignored her altogether. The joy of the crone helped her become the gal she became.
It tasted different on the way back down, wielding the power of make-up’s corrective abilities.
The difference between beloved pronounced with three syllables instead of two.
Parçigal lived her dream of art. She reinterpreted Myschkin, finally freeing him from being misinterpreted as a Christian allegory. Don’t tell the critical schools.
Of course, books are more often quoted than read these days.
She writes some notes on index cards:
The enumerable is now innumerable. Hypertextuality.
Apposition: the grammatical relation between two words or phrases that stand for the same idea.
Your load-stone hypnotizes & I become a loadstone.
Why do we say Illicit instead of Licit?
In Practical, Standard English, consider ‘Licit’
[Latin, licitus, past participle of licere ‘it is allowed’]
Now, Licit is often misused and confused with Lawful; and they are close synonyms. Consider:
[Latin, licet, it is permitted]
Why do we say activities are illicit?
We usually say what we mean and not the opposite.
LICIT: not forbidden by law. It applies to strict conformity to the provisions of law. And that is especially what the law regulates conforming to the requirements of the law.
LAWFUL: permissible; permitted by law; legitimate; constituted by law; valid or regarded as valid [of marriage born of lawful marriage; said of offspring] Having full, legal rights (synonyms include: just, right)
But, when it comes to be law-abiding, Licit becomes clunky.
Most things would, ostensibly, be lawful.
It becomes more convenient to say what is and what is not Illicit.
Illicit is now preferred to Licit in common, American usage.
An other pace
Wrought but a bit of twisted metal.
Wrush
The suspenseful declension inclined
clinal curves of conviviality.
It makes me smile, then shirk
…then smile again
eye rolling down into a shoulder shrugging rasp laugh.
{you gotta be quite-quiet when you live in an apartment}
Inclinations are just
as they ever are, even if others are disinclined.
A kind retired woman lives below my flat.
Kindly uncompassionate and compassionately unkind.
{or vice versa}.
The difference between merciless and unmerciful.
{or vice versa}.
The no-armed slow mover
Dig it.
Beta Testing the Block
I step out for fresh air.
A test of a weakness.
An ankle.
Something cut down before ampersand after it grew.
A bit of pink on loam.
Two sets of fox gloves, where before there was one,
for anyone to slip on.
A well-placed curve.
A root-ball as seen from one angle.
Threads of scarf couple with a fallen blossom on the asphalt.
The most-intense yellow mimics the fields of North Umbrian rapeseed pastures.
Juxtaposed upon green.
As seen from a train.
Jack & Effie
Doping up our heroine, Jack is on a roll again. Five times in three months, she has been inexplicably incapacitated to the point of babble.
He should rest & shave.
He should do a lot of things. If he had finished that sculpture a decade ago instead of leaving a half-beast still frozen in marble, he would have been a million-air and taken over the Hisem (Cawlings secret organization). As it turned out, leaving town immediately became much more important.
Had he not doped up our female hero, leaving town would not have been the thing to do. But, he did and now everything was on fire.
The relics knew.
The intuitives knew.
The floaters knew;
and, the world would soon know if he did not get water on the pyre and his ass out of town.
She was just too fun.
It was the sensational poster that he saw that made him realize what he had done. It was for the release of an album that should have come out in 1962 and today was 10/12/08.
The only thing weirder than seeing an ad for an album that has already been released is being the only guy who thinks that is weird.
Some birds just were not meant to fly?
Dodos? Zeppelins? And, her? And, maybe some cats should be kept in-doors.
But, Pet Sounds would be released next week.
All this esshit and after the chances he had effed up. He could have been the angel of justice if it were not for rock n’ roll. It was after the arm that should have been broken during his second punk show that had made the lord decide that he had had enough. This was supposed to be the next Jesus.
Besides, no son of his dyes his hair.
He could have been Cawling’s apprentice. No one ever wanted a fallen son of god more than that guy; but, then the whole beast/marble debacle happened and he was out;
and Pet Sounds would be soon, again.
Up he had effed, the cardinal rule.
He misused his power and now time was out of joint. The key had been exposed and it was his fault. His dad had been right after all these years.
Jack sat outside of the mini-storage unit where his friends’ bands were practicing. He had collected funds; and, between them, he now had $43.79 USD. His usual trips did not require cash, per se. Being in the diving family has the benefit of a gas station attendant believing he owes you $36.75 USD in change after you paid him in monopoly money.
But, now he needed to stay under the radar.
No miracles today. Just a non-shaven, white guy who appeared about 35 and was currently wearing bunny-ears.
“You should probably take those off…”
Carol was about 15 years old when she started getting the feeling that she did not get something. While 90% of adolescents seem to feel this way, Carol’s situation was unique in that she was justified in her paranoia.
Said feeling was brought to a-head with Jack;
and, he hated that foolish girl for it.
She was the reason this ridiculousness had started.
To say that Carol had that paranoid feeling may be misleading. It was her whole family that felt this way. And, Jack’s dad had made this blood line for this purpose. Anyone with blood from the matrilineal side of Carol’s family had this feeling. The reason for this was that they were prophets. But, prophets that did not know they were prophets.
Having visions and knowing esshit in advance is commonly considered quite a psychotic feature. As they were not psychotic, they were aware of the stigma associated and their own propensity towards appearing this way. Also, not being sent angels or anything for reassurance about these feelings could leave one feeling quite confused and alone.
Like there is a joke that everyone else is in on. The thing was: only no-one else was in on the joke. It was like figuring out the end of a movie before the second act.
They just sort of always knew how things would turn out. They did not know why they knew; they just knew that they knew (at least in there in their more lucid moments). But, none of them ever told anyone else that they felt that way, for fear of the straight-jacket.
The same way most people do not say things like, “I think I am a prophet,” for instance. Nor does saying, “you’re gonna die from stomach cancer,” help ease the weirdness.
Why would you tell someone something like that?
How did they know something like this? Don’t ask them. They just got feelings that, from their mind’si, always seemed to be proven thusly.
VVöderland Notes from Parçigal
Underground currents,
conducted by Mæstrœs, at
certain key-stone sites where
lode-stones are ritualistic-ally, mystic-ally, and magick-ally
fawned over; and then,
pressed close-ally and
firmly into the lay-line
which will magnetize
the electric charge of
both Keystones & Lodestones,
(grail, cisterns, resevoir, from Latin ‘cista’ chest, arches, Ark, Lantern)
allowing the earth’s current to
be conducted to
those natural lay-lines sites that
just occur;
but, with an
increase in energetic out-put on
the scale of 150x.
Energy is pulled to the key/lode -stones; and,
held or redistributed by:
Maestrœs; Music Masters; Mæcens
using minnesingers; idiotēs; meisters; Mægens.
Magisters. fellows.
Hærlœts; a Lady; Maidens; handmaids; handmaidens
Milkmaids.
Hand
Made.
like a
A lice ntious ladder.
Maven; mavin; matron; knights; diabolūs, sons of Socrates, the ‘diatribe’
(“a private ind’l”)
Hermit. Hermetic. hermeneutics. Vermillion.
roses, swans, graal, gradalis, gra(d)al
scribes that transcribe
rishis, sannyasins, dervishes
Infants,
Mavericks,
Arhats.
The Hard Swallow
The hard swallow. Sometimes it feels good, sometimes it challenges.
Sometimes, it hurts good and proper.
At times, it just aches.
The taxidermist did a fine job.
Time cost. Moment to moment. What system of valuation do we use to assess our own choices?
Incremental, linear.
Exponential.
Scales of magnitude.
The red queen nailed a few posts into the ground.
At the last peg she told Alice
“Goodbye.”
Illywhackers once glib and smug now understand how
[frightened] and [scared]
are not the same.
Yet, no price replaces and no dream undistills
the realization that contrarians can be cowards.
The burning sun rises as my moon today.
A boudoir of meditation, breathwork, bareness
And open-secrets.
A saucer of milk for the feline.
Love split in two and i say i keep it with others.
The pitfall is when you need them to share it back with you on a busy, misunderstood day. Better to share it than to hoard it, but there may be
No blame, no
fingerbanging guns.
Is this when what was invaluable
becomes valueless?
The deer does not worry for the hunter.
The deer worries about all hunters,
categorically.
Speculation
Mindful
is to
Mindfulness
as
Loch
is to
Lock Ness
Monster.
Watch “Pink Floyd – On The Run” & here me wax-on poetic/s.
No rights, just pure homage
to the first electronica/synth jam i ever heard in my entire life.
At least as far back as i can speculatively conjecture.
I was around age 5.
The daydreams i could and can enliven when actively listening to this cut
border on the absurd;
but, when carrying a double edged sword, Damocles, the most important
point/e/
To remember is: it has two sharp sides.
And, Damocles, apparently it hangs directly above you.
Observation only.
Already working on ambidexterity?
Genius it is to observe this track sidling itself betwixt the tracks finding themselves apposite ampersand opposite.
Facing each other as well as arching, in honest, desperate, curiosity.
(i.e. it plays well b/w the two songs between which it falls.)
A valley between twin peaks
Which can also serve us as a
Ladder-Alice
Uses from time to time.
Love it much. Dig.
Giggle.
Welcome to another lunar side, i suppose.
Treat yourself.
Listen to it cans on and try to discern the voices.
Heady.
WrittenCasey 