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.

Humm

Audacious but also perspicacious.

You are specious?

Mavericks engage, enjoin, but remain unbranded unless approached.

Preempting pretensions of perhaps not.

Predating any prior existing periodicity,

Yet, í would still underwrite your risk again.

She keeps the tiny medal from your coat’s

pocket

Attached to original brown bag wrapping.

She sleeps by it every night.

The true meaning of í am almost always thinking of you

Right,

exactly,

Now.

She had learned sleeping is tiresome.

Right side, fetal about the pillow to consider this

Left side to mediate the other side.

On my back when a moment is needed.

That it hurts a little.

That mystery of an unknown answer holds me fast and securely.

Could he and it too quicken?

Up-Focus from TrainScotting

Í speak in harmonies scaling octavial heights.

Centurians guard my air. Í breathe angels. Í exhale fire. Í burnish with every breath.

Breathless, noiseless despite despots.

The rows planted in keystone symmetry; puzzling eyes ampersand I’s in motion,

Like two horses dying of thirst beside a fresh water stream. The query of the quarry destroyed their shodden hooves. Chipping like fingernails opening soda tab tops.


Lone pylons.


Radio and cellular towers feigned as trees and the refrain repeated from which none refrained.

A bridge over dry dirt.

Í let the bonsai tree grow over one hundred feet. Held fast, bent and hobbled by wire wrapping extended limbs like the necks of Nubian queens. Clutching with cruel vigor the extension as though the feet of geishas.

Incidentally, í never cared for hearing anecdotal evidence, yet í sure evidence anecdotes as offerings to others.

To live and die in the service industry: this is the new Dixieland. Bereft of prejudice.

Barely. The meek shall inherit your tips.

A gnarled bonsai branch slaps me in the forehead as if to say, “oh dear, how could you not remember?”

We watched the weather change three times in ten minutes. He seemed unsurprised. This surprised me.

The rapeseed fields burned yellow like a terranean sun. My eyes nedded shielding, but í looked on and stared at the faux-star. Í beat a path by following the doppleganger affected bleating of sheep. Little lambs of woolen and warm like cherubs. They whispered, “If you jump the stone fence on the horizon, you will freefall forever.”

Í said, “You cannot see the ocean below for your clouds.”

Í stood on the slanting stone stele before slipping into a slide, my leg [em]purpled on impact like the time í slipped on the hotel’s hardwood. Í had had to leave an entire continent to find a bit of breathing space. But, í do breathe more deeply than many.

Vapor fume whisps from my nose with each burnished breath.

Í am the dragon called serpent-bearer. He stays my hand, wrapped around my forearm. He hisses, hides, and hides me. Protectors and protectorates in one. We laugh together in snarling tangles. He hangs like a tentacle. He hangs me upside down by my ankle, correcting the orientation of my perspective.

We appear cruel to the uncruel.

We are cruel to the cruel. Humiliating them unmercifully through unwarranted kindness. Adoration melting cruelty.

My eyes go hard.

My lips narrow and purse while my kindness cuts ampersand maims.

The behemoth bonsai bursts into flames. I howl in feral pleasure.

Mine is water; fire, the serpent’s.

Diabolical excellence arouses

Making ire irie.

The awareness to insert [i] pro/e/duces accordingly.

The Third Install: Parçiful

Hello, Alice here. You may recall me if you have been following this tangled loop of a story. We have Parçiful, Effie, and myself. Effie, who will give up no more than the name Parçiful, is her younger sister. The gurls like to travel with me from time-too-time. And, Æ became familiar with them by dint of their fiery aunt. Please do not mention to her that we mentioned this to you. We heard you say: mention something/mention anything.


Æ serve as third party, omniscent narrator. Recall the point-of-views that narrators may take? Well, think of me as a dream sandman. Effie and our anti-hero tolerate me, when they realize Æ am around that is. Parçiful and Æ go way back. We met In-dreams. So, Æ like, from time-too-time, to read her. She is more written than real. Quite unjustly. Improper handling by the Knights-to-Nowhere. She is not a shy one. She was a frightened one. Her Tribe kindly asked her to split. Beat It. She is a Southern gal and so, delightfully obliging, thus: she obliged. Not anymore though. So, I feel sharing some excerts from her handwritten tale. Context. Although, all Æ will give up is what was observable. Lord knows what really happened. Her Tribe and Æ’s Tribe. Just as Æ never gave up everything to her, Æ must assume she never gave up everything to me.


Effie here. Hi.

ASIDE: his final sentence above is an assumption. No one must assume anything. One assumes for want of reassurance. For if she had actually given-everything up to begin with, it would be a hard cross forvÆ to bear. Idiots feel beholden, just as Parçiful did after accepting her at-the-time boyfriend’s plastic proposal. Thank god he left her. Well, left is not the right word. He dumped her and then continued to avail himself of her resources.


[Undated]

In elementary school years, petting myself to sleep at night, while wondering how the Sunday-school heaven could be fun & forever. I imagined a life of growing up to be destitute. Homeless. Well, at least how easily it seemingly could happen to anybody.

Vague intuitions of how feeling entitled leads to your own stripping……

Open secret x: ‘we cannot depend on our lovers to prove to us that we are not broken because, in some way, we all are. Wounded anyway.’

Perhaps the best we may hope-for is to see each other grow and grow together and take care of one another as well as we can-to see each other and touch each other and try not to harm what we see and touch. Maybe that’s not such a small, silly thing. Maybe it’s one of the biggest tasks we face on this earth.

A breath tantra of connection. Sitting on the ground together.

We are embarking on that which we carried wood to see. Because we still want to see.

I lived in words, work, dreams, and a group of four close buds. I felt freer, moore solid, since the cursed engagement ended. Time flew. The world inside me was expansive. I enjoyed being alone, with my own company. I did for me. Took care of myself. Did not miss having a partner. Did not need someone else. And, I saw how poorly í’d allowed my spirit to be treated. Í saw how í had slowly let fires inside myself burn-out. Almost glad they were smothered and stoked. It had become easier to not have fire in my belly when I was working asat at some terminal for ten hours a day. Then to come home and be fussed at for it. Particularly as my job was all me and my at-the-time boyfriend. Do not worry for him. He tagged along on my move across the country. Managed to get a great job. We were in NMexico when found out he had been hired in a lucrative company. So, when he was done with me, he had finally seemed to hve found himself. A good thing. A talented fellow who is not nearly as clever or smart as he thinks he is. Not by half. A decent, upright fellow and good citizen, regardless.

We neglected each other. Lies of omission. “No, everything is fine.” Secret addiction.

[Fig. I.1. Certain entries that Æ read are best communicated by pictures. There is no way to convey content on such things viz a viz pics]