It's written by Casey
A swollen ankle following a trip in the forest.
I hurt it dancing.
Curious night.
I espied two bees.
Too quick to capture.
I sat for a few moments
This was the ground below
The yellow wild flowers across the way.
The planted, multi-color behind me.
I curious shape situated in the middle of the across the way.
A heart n the sky.
The sky broad-stroked.
Blooms i have been anticipating.
1st i have sceene.
The high wind shook and shimmied the foliage-heavy forest like a candle flickers the refraction of light on my white door.
Cotton(wood) splays itself across the path like nymphs waiting to be swept up in collection. Spattering of coral-esque moss. Sea foam green.
My spine becomes alit. Some exhalations come out like breath on a cold day.
The first few days of summer in the forest, we see as ampersand from below before we can see from above.
Death of the early summer days. Dead moleskin leathering in the sun. Pecked out banana slugs, the spoils of the war of the early birds.
Snakes sun mid-path, unconcerned with your intrusion.
Ten feet later this sun vanishes. Ten minutes, later on, it returns.
I cross eight and one half bridges. But, there are only five bridges.
Life begins as rabbits run into brambles. Fresh, with ears not fully grown.
(Groan).
Ducklings fatten on the now enshallowed Salmon Ladder pond.
I still espy you, sweet and lovely dummy.
Seated among the tall grass like a forested catacomb.
The first of the summer berries ripen.
Ruddy gold.
Bloody red.
Some
(already em-)purpled.
The serpent’s red eyes open.
Leopard Branch grows a summer coat of kudzu,
Not yet claustrophobic
It will not be humid enough.
Not like in Bamaland.
His legs drape mossy of either side of the foreside.
Hips rested just so.
Tail winding round the trunk of his supportive tree.
Head resting.
Possibly but not necessarily asleep.
He saw how Joseph was annealed by the fire…[and] felt the ordeal more than Joseph. P241
Sounded overwrought to me. Then I bothered (sic. concerned) myself with actually looking up
/annealed/
I was being educated on several levels. I first read the sentence such that I thought I knew more than I did. I imagined /annealed/ to be some form of a bow or a kneeling position, a kiss the ring, smell the glove. A posture taken when the situation demands you take yourself seriously. If you can imagine such a thing! Or that you undertake to do something trivial quite meticulously. For the sake of the process itself. By your choice. You take part with and in. Or, when ritual, tradition, culture, bestows us a transcendental catharsis by allowing us to take very specific actions with others undertaking them alongside, as well. A hymn sung by a choir. Suddenly, lighting a candle is holy. Yet, lighters and matches abound. Fire is easy to come by but it was not always so.
Blind spot.
Shocking how much meaning we can contain. There are so many pearls that some readers start arguing over the appraising of an irregular pearl. It is all about finding, examining, analyzing, and drawing conclusions about the relative value. Waiting to find that big money shot pearl. A yup.
“awe, more valuable. made of pearl but unique, collectors edition. Gesture, essence. and articulation.”
“Worthless. It’s shape isn’t paradigmatic of the standard pearl. Misinformed. Monstrous, devalues the other pearls to even be in the same bowl with them.”
Who let the pigs out? Who? Hoo hoo?
Too much monkey business for me. We as a species have moved on. Or did I miss the train and am now out of joint?
The Glass Bead Game: Magister Ludi. 1990. First Owl Books Edition. $18.00 USD/$24.95 Canada. That seems really inexpensive as I think back on it now. At five hundred and fifty eight total pages, it is a trek but no death march. As with any trek, though there will be days. But, then there will really be days! Am I right, a hyuck, hyuck.
The length is not the deterrent. The printing of the book intimidates. At least my copy. That is why I bought it. It looked too heavy for a book that size. A thing that is larger than physics allows but your eyes empirically cannot deny. Your brain’s rational processors will fill in the reasons that ‘you can’t trust your eyes.’
A phone booth and doctor.
A House of Leaves.
A ship ever at sail on a foreign sea, the life of the house mouse lost.
S/he loses their position in the home.
You lose something you did not know could go missing. The notion of home? An ending spoiled. Don’t let the little ones hear. Something you cannot unlearn but surely there is room for doubt and maneuver. Doubt suffers where there is little room
Something you took for granted. Because there is so much to see and so many things vying for the pleasure of your (everone’s) attention at all times. We cannot process the amount of information we physically can conceive us. We get by and brains fill in the blanks. The way you discover your new car’s blind spot.
《《 》》
Crash. Ah, hell.
《《 》》
But what was to be done? Can you judge yourself for not knowing that your vehicle is afflicted with a blind spot? Sure, but where that at? If you want me I’ll be in the bar. Speculating on some dreamy nonsense. The thing you did not see in your rearview & side mirrors (electric-adjustable, I’d wager) as you merged lanes, was, by dint of optical physics, unseeable. You cannot adjust for and account for such a variable.
The publishers did not eff around. There is a deliberate concern for both style and balance in the margin setting and lettering layout. There is room to scrawl. If you are into that sort of thing. I am! The luxury of the thick white broadband’s conjunction into right angles about the four verticies gains further dimensionality by its opposing page.
The reflecting pool in the palm. Narcissus finally went mobile. Each page appears with its predecessor and/or successor in symmetry. Consider the leaf of the sheet itself. Two page numbers and each bearing letter matricies yet on but one page. One page in the book holds two pages. Think about that. There ain’t ya’ll entertained? If that is not magic, then ya’ll doin’ it wrong. I see gods contained and present amongst the multiform streams. IHS Bacchus first. Then as Janus. Holding us in the present, pressed fast between the past and the future tense. So the text on each side of the page gives rise to leaf between your fingers as you turn the page.
Let us say, maybe, five hundred and forty pages are geometrically identical in dimension, same squares, same squares. Matrix array with its vectors contained in those critical margins. Two koi ponds reflected about the same axis of symmetry. Simpatico. The more you read, the more the very confined area with unnecessarily tiny pt. font, single spaced. Tight, trim, orderly. And you are drawn in and held fixed in that little space. Rapt. Enraptured.
And then the ratio expands. The page does not seem so small.
The biggest hinderance to the book’s popularity in America was a poor original cipher of the German language. But translating the lyrical prose of Hesse is probably like trying to translate a Japanese character into ‘the English word for it.’ You can pull it off but the English Equivalence is questionable. Americans are poorly positioned to be strong readers of such heavy, often erudite, ultimately, ironic tomes. We do not get the geographical exposure to other cultures.
Hell, we didn’t get the joke.
It fell for it too! The joke of being so dreadfully stoic that the reader would not dare think you were givin’ a ribbin.’ This is a book; An effing long one; I found all these pearls. I’m rich. Made-man. This is a book of power not jokes for blokes.
Sigh. Now, your cracking me up.
The good news is, if you do ever get the joke, it makes you smile and laugh out loud. Then shake your head. Hold on.
Although, states are arguably the same as little countries.
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.
The above is incorrect. Just my opinion, in light of the below.
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.
