The Undercutters: Chapter One- Why Effie lost her job.

Prologue

Introduction

“She was always such a sweet girl, but she just lost her shit,” bar patron 1 says, at 9:00 a.m., to the responding P.D. officer.

He continues, for the benefit of the record, “No, I wouldn’t say she was provoked; but, the old woman she was trying to seat was being a real bitch. They walked to three different tables; and, more and more people kept accumulating at the door; and, when that old biddy said ‘no’ to the third table she offered her, she just…”

“She just lost it!” interjects the diner at table 14.

“Yeah! Her face went all cartoony. Like in those old(e) Warner Bros. cartoons, when you realize the sheep is actually a well-dressed wolf in sheep’s clothing. Like, all pretty smiles and dimples until…,” bar patron two adds.

“Exactly like that. Then she just reared back and clocked that poor, elderly woman square in her jaw. I mean, she coulda easily been 70 years old.” says the indignant wife of afore mentioned diner at table 14.

“Right?! And, that lady just slugged her. It was fucked up!!” the thirteen year old kid to her right nods, grinning wildly.

“Justin!” the wife chastises to her oblivious son.

Justin continues, “Yeah, and that old lady dropped like a fly hitting a bug zapper. Zzzzppp!!!” he illustrates.

“Justin!!” Mom responds.

The P.D. officer asks the group-at-large, “Then what happened?”

The group-at-large goes silent.

Finally, Justin elaborates as the others nod in strangely silent agreement, “Everyone and everything went all silent for forever. Until. Until, the host lady started laughing all hysterically and real loud.”

“That’s right, Just,” says mom, patting his shoulder.

Tight lips and all.

There is nothing I would imbibe to dull this edge,

but memories of you which I may use, spurning future potentialities.

You help me project myself into the future.

I lay-line.

Silly, sad boys abound, but I see depths in your aged eyes.

Your crows well-footed and begging,

leaving their foot tracks below your lower lids.

They are just as fine when you smile as when you frown.

A ghost ship at full clip

Fighting-as-discipline haunts me with every new face I meet. (Invariably they are black belts, INK’D athletes, ex MMA fighters, etc.)

Cannily uncanny. It may be inspiring my clip this morning. I certainly find the trend personally inspiring. The same way the numbers 93, 13, 11, and 777 hook my attention. Do I see them at every turn because they occur in a disproportionate amount or do my expectations simply enliven significance?

My feet carry my brain to work, propelled as though by the will of something outside of my conscious thought.

I walk too fast. I don’t know why. Mind still foggy from tying one on with the family last night.

Damn. I can barely keep up with my own pace.: I think, walking.

Click, click.

Click, click.

Quick.

Oh well, the energy required to change my momentum seems more consuming than just continuing to walk along, too fast.

It is a grey sky morning.

Have I actually woken up?

°

The sun finally arrives and beats the cloud cover into smashed splinters. It makes the day seem real. I feel my heart finally kick start, keeping rhythm with the coffee coursing through my system.

Howllelujah.: says the newly given up ghost,

in a whisper of surrender to this new day.

Physicsical Moaning

I smile: I am pleased you like the work, but not particularly interested in why.

You liked how it felt.

Instead, tell me about the last dream you had while sleeping?

Did you like how it made you feel?

I dreamt a record store called All ‘N Analog. It was no analogue.

And,

What if it turned out that Paul Revere was just a Boy who cried Wolf?

Let’s incorporate.

A stem [becomes]

steAm.
Repetition of action is

not repeating oneself;

though, care must be taken, of course, so you

don’t repeat yourself;

but, sometimes I love it when

you repeat yourself

(or ask me questions, the answers to which you believe you already know.)

Self-awareness of ignorance can nearly

overcome it.
Just don’t over-commit.

You will, still, scratch that itching nose with a finger, whether you are aware you do so,

or not.

You skate on a bead of water produced from the ice you melted as the blade of your skate skirted over it.

You have not cut the ice.

Boiling point is dependent upon the local atmospheric pressure, sweet thing.

Are you at an elevation of simple sea level?

The triple point of water.

A bathtub producing water, ice, and steAm from its faucet head.

All states

existing simultaneously; and, at the same time,

the ultraviolet exposure at my atmospheric level, fries, while I watched the sun rise

from my spectacular, secularly sacred space.

A Watery Whale Wail

Have you ever stared, for a long time, at a large body of water?

More than an hour, or

until you can’t remember if the water is actually the sky and perhaps it is you that has been submerged in water the whole time?

Like maybe the horizon is a surfacing point where you and I breathe like whales?

Spouting our exhalations and thrilling the star ships above our surfaces.

It feels like when you sit in a room alone and repeat your own name aloud, for a minimum of three minutes.

Incepting yourself as you dialate time through your subjectI’ve experience.

Like purposefully esoteric, alternative spellings.

Parçigal from between time or Circumstance

Background notes:

Parzifal is the “collective tradition of mankind…is not subject to Time or Circumstance.”

Is for those born of the ‘Heart’s Affliction.’

Researching Parzifal led me to the works of C.S. Jones who wrote The Chalice of Ecstasy “to make the points dealt with [in the drama] as comprehensive as possible to the uninitiated enquirer who is prepared to ‘wake and harken the call.’ “

The writing below is an exercise in synthesis.
All quoted text is pulled from The Chalice of Ecstasy.
All quoted text within quotation marks are quotes Jones included in his work.
He also used WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH’s text Parzival as his basis. He does recommend a good translation of the Libretto from R. Wagner’s Parsifal.

Parzival is “written in the keynote of ecstasy” according to Wolfram von Eschenbach and “provides a glimpse of the Eternal Reality.” A key event in the story is Parzival shooting a swan from the sky. The swan represents ecstasy. Parzival should have been condemned for this but is not because of the unique confluence of his circumstances. I like to use the allegory of Parzival which is considered a “living text” as a means of discussing sexuality and gender roles/definition. I also like the idea of the newest incarnation of Parzival being from the perspective of a feminine knight questing for love and understanding with the former.

¤

My ecstasy has indicated I was “born of the ‘Heart’s Affliction.’ “

I found my “way to that spot where they, ‘scarcely move, yet seem to run’ “.

“Having become one with The Way,” I have just come to Tao.

I “discover that the shifting scenes of the world [I] had though so real, will pass [me] by as a pageant until the Vision of the Grail itself is presented to their pure Understanding.” But howl surprised was I to see both you and I.

I fear I believe that all that is written above has occured to me again and again.

I simply continue for long enough to forget and remember it all over again.

A chALice emptied and refilled.

My heart “learned to beat in time and tune with the Soul of the World.”

Rhythm and vibrations are everything we think we know. What is rhythm but

a wave? A wavelength. An S rotated 90% and crossing an axis. Periodicity of the pendulous arm’s swings.

Rhythm is the steady crashing of waves falling.

The entire ocean is every wave.

¤

I feel my being “to be a highly strung musical instrument.”

Fret awaiting fretting. Tuned to the proper tone to be strummed and plucked upon.

A fitt “burn[s] up the veils which hide [me] from Myself.”

It reveals you. A familiar stranger.

Strum me.

“Will runs over [my] strings” and I come to know how to reveal how it is “causing complete and harmonious vibrations.” Do you choose to experience this in your own being? Show me the “unformulated but delightful melody” that is the same song Whitman sang.

The Song of Myself.

I will dance to your song simply because you choose to perform it for me.

I will conduct your currents as you emit them.

I will empty you to refill you.

I am an empty plenum. I contain everything in my nothingness.

I know not the rituals. Yet still I seek to continually “unite the mind to some pure idea by an act of will.” This is the brick wall against which I slam my head “again and again.” The wall where you found me bleeding and dizzy, next to the eggshell pieces of Humpty Dumpty. Alice remembers her name again.

I know not the “Way of Holiness.” I may not impress upon the consciousness of your onlookers.

No-One is the only one that looks upon me thusly.

I am a pure Fool, ignorant and earnest. Before that I was a dummy. I could not speak. I have always been an idiotē.

I have always been the unaffiliated Maverick roaming through the initiated herds, admiring the brands, the symbols emblazoned upon their skin.

My skin is marred by time and circumstance.

My skin is completely unmarked.

Canvas.

¤

“ “There is a Swan whose name is Ecstasy.” “

Also known as you and I.

I “ “wingeth through the blue” and at “[my] coming they push forth the green” “ because I bring spring.

I herald an easter Sunday for your tired soul.

You shot me down from the sky.

And, you did it by virtue of No-One’s weapon but your own.

A Happy Death for me. A Swan’s life born anew in you.

“ “In all the Universe [a] Swan alone in motionlessness, it seems to move as the Sun seems to move; such is the weakness of sight.” “

“ “O fool!”…”Motion is relative; there is nothing that is still.” “ Let me shoot my arrow at you this time. From your “ “ [feathered] breast poured forth blood” “ and I felt ecstatic and you discovered ichor. Now, let me ecstatically enrapture you until your veins flow with it so richly as to sustain this demiurge. You are no longer a Pure Fool because you know. The men that smote you last time will not let you pass again. But, I can sneak you through the gate. Folly is my protector. Let me use it for the protection of the soul of another.

I am ignorant of the rule and the action taken breaking the rule was kindly intended.

(says the little boy who cried ‘Wolf’)

(says the collective mind who was “just taking orders”)

Consequences occur regardless of intention.

Risk is underwritten.

In tension, intension.

Suspension of beginning an action and witnessing the resultant reaction and effects of your affect.

I have been called Artemis, Sagittarius (until the stars changed), centaur and satyr.

I read of the marriage of Christian Rosencrutz. Send them my congratulations and best wishes, please.

Where is the Castle and what of the Tower?

“ “By my word, I know you are Parzival-son of Herat’s Affliction” “-and I have recovered the weapon that you flung off after using it to pluck me down from the sky and into the blue lake.

I have discovered-upon that Might of Love which you used to render me slain. You “succeeded where all others had failed,” dear one.

You say you do “now as yet know [t]he True Name-the Word of [Ewer]-Being, though in the past [you had] been called by many names.”

You mention this: “one thing [you] desired to know and to understand. What is the Grail!”

You have already been told that “ “By no one can it be detected Who by itself is not elected.” “

And, you then did “ “Bestride the Bird of Life [because] thou wouldst know.” “

I desire to know if you came to me by slaying me because you wanted to know or because you wanted to know me. And to what end did you intend this knowledge?

The difference between a means to a desired end and being the end desired.

Dis-ingenuity. Do not be disingenuous, sorrel.

It will make it so much worse for you. Through it you turn three pounds of pleasure into three pounds of misery. Should misery please you, you will never be miserable again, if you act duplicitously or maliciously.

A knight need only be kind. Do not attempt to placate with being nice. Kindness does not impress. It empresses upon. Kindness is a way of being and not an act of valour to be selectively undertaken. Kindness can appear cruel to outsiders.

So, I also ask: are you kind?

I desire to know how you found yourself at the intersection of right now. Face to face with me.

This is the cost of admission. Tell me these things and I shall sneak you through the gate.

I just hope you are as brave as you believe yourself to be. Sometimes it will get dark. You have coronated me a Queen of Magnets. I attract all poles.

Howl I hope it is not just a ceremonial sobriquet, sweet fool.

“We are the ELLIPSE OF THE UNIVERSE.”