Your name is Ruin?: I ask.
No. RueAnne: she replies.
Why did you bring me back here?: I wonder.
I didn’t mean to: I hear her say.
She does not realize that she said this.
I nod anyway.
Certain geographies don’t agree with dream me.
This place rubs me wrong.
RueAnne is staring into nothing.
Her energy has been summoned.
She just lost herself again: I think.
A goat ambles by.
I dreamt I was under siege last night.
Like Bell Rock.
But ages before.
The rocks were boulders of dingy khaki and earl gray.
Choppy and round, not leveled and smoothed.
But, they too, like the current iteration, remain cool to the touch,
despite constant exposure to the pressure of the sun.
I do no know why I am here, nor why I am being fired upon.
I wear a sleeveless red, knee length dress which renders me a sitting duck visually, per se.
I have on my “clown shoes” as I call them in this reality.
The pair of red, canvas slip ons are not conducive to scaling mountain goat terrain quickly.
Rocks, boulders, are being launched at me by wooden catapults operated by an unseen foe.
I hear them screaming through the air before my eyes can see them.
This is the best advantage I have.
I can look where I am going while feeling assured I will hear the threat.
No need to look for the threat.
I drop to the fetal position under the precipice of a nearby boulder, if available.
I think. If I had an umbrella in the colors of the rocks around me, that might be handy.
Such umbrella appears in my hand.
This is a dream: I think.
I try the umbrella method during the next assault.
They lose me in their scope.
I believe they are hopeful they struck me down and thus can no longer see me.
I leap to feet
spoiling the very advantage I just created.
I hear the next rock scream.
Howl. Bad bit of terrain beneath my feet.
This umbrella could deflect the projectile: I imagine.
I open it, crouch down.
My braced arms withstand the pressure of the incoming’s rock momentum.
It bounces off the imagined shield.
I feel like I have won the battle.
Umberto Eco became like a new Hermann Hesse to me, over the last two years.
I recently reread the pages of notes I took from Foucault’s Pendulum. A very hermetic-y work, at least to my unaffiliated eyes.
Here are my favorites.
Believe there is a secret and you will feel like an initiate. It costs nothing…to live as if there were a Plan.
To dismantle the world into two saraband of anagrams.
Le monde est fait pour aboutir a un livre (faux).
Tout se tient.
Books of diabolicals must not innovate.
Yearning for mystery. Initiation is learning never to stop.
The most powerful secret is a secret without content.
The fan at the bar who
drank zero drinks for
leaps to his feet
/baby says she’s mine/
/you know she tells me all
/you know she said so/
He flashed a fiver
and dances up the length
of the bar’s entrance
and back down again.
Pro-offered & finally
A silver fox takes his
Howl they dance.
She dances with him
through the next three
Not a bad turn around on
investment, in this fool’s eyes.
A girl dances along-side
them and begins waving.
Then, she plays it off.
She did not know to
whom she waved.
But, maybe she will.
Ever-one jumps up and
rushes to dance to CCR.
I say: I like the smell of
He says: you’re the girl in
the black dress.
I say: there’s some white
crosshairs on here.
He smiles; and, I walk away.
I espy the Dance Partner
give her number away
while all ages free-dance
I overhear: it is what it is
And, the band howls:
Here it comes
/well nothing I do don’t
seem to work, <howl>, it
only seems to make
The bassist nails the
Then, on the next song,
the band changes singers.
They break into
Rebel, Rebel. They
miss a line.
They redeem the
/gurl, I want to be with
It is funny
Go across an ocean and
they sing southern, u.s. rock.
Come back home and all they wanna sing
is the British invasion.
A breeze blows from
as I walk home alone.
Music does not consist in those purely intellectual oscillations and figurations which we have abstracted from it.
Its pleasure consists in its sensuous character.
In the outpouring of breath.
In the beating of time.
Certainly, the spirit is the main thing.
The invention of new instruments,
altering old ones.
The introduction of new keys.
New rules, taboos, regarding construction and harmony, are always mere gestures and superficialities, as our the fashions of nations.
“Everything that had belonged to me in these earlier years of my life went from me and became alien and lost to me. I suddenly saw how sad and artificial my life had been during this period. For the loves, friends, habits, and pleasures of these years were discarded like badly fitting clothes. I parted from the without pain and all that remained was to wonder that I could have endured them so long.”
“The lives of ordinary people can be boring, but the activities and destinies of idlers are interesting…I remained apart from ordinary life.”
“I was overwhelmed by an astonishing feeling of happiness, for I suddenly knew what love was. It was not a new feeling but a clarification and confirmation of old premonitions, a return to native country.”
“The most lively young people become the best old people; not the ‘wise’ ones from school.”
“I can’t live and I can’t die. Everything seems meaningless and stupid.”