he is a victim of his emotions and blindly as he drags everyone with him through them in a childish rage 

 I see past your smokescreen 

JMMuse Noir (Ed)continues

And as I stare up so wistfully at that tiny phantom of a helicopter speck that is not even there

I hear Jörn make the oddest—and yet—familiar sound. Like an apologetic cough before,

“jag är ledsen, duva….”

I do turn my head quick —but!lights out!! All goes dark like dreamless sleep 

….was there a prick, a jab?I don’t know ….

Chapters & verse

Pre-Quel Electra’s Dictionary; the chapters and the celves invention that lead to the need for a JMMuseNoir

[Note to Celf: Examine henceforth some pages to begin examining the landmarks]

Chapter & verse; the chapters the celves inventions….

to be continued [marker to Celf: starting with the encounter  ‘revival of dharma’via stacks&print]

to be continued

 

you know, it is not that I don’t have things to write about but lately I guess I wonder once again about why 

I can write until the cows come home ….and there are cows all around me, you can be sure and —they are all home ….but why?they told me to write and …. I guess it is something about how I string my words but with the thought vortex they just tumble out 

I would never have given a fig to be a writer

 had it not been for Mr Page 

and Mr Lance 

(of whom kept my 13 year old journal)

but if not for those English teachers, I was actually quite glad to dream out the window

 my imaginary lives (but then—something happened

that day Mr Page read my daydream to the class telling everyone it was from a magazine something powerful flooded through me as I listened to and watched the reactions from the class as he read. I stood outside myself and felt like a charge rush through me like a tuning fork ….)

and the fear of the power 

the pressure for important words ….when all I want to do is doodle 

that really is code for something —you know….

our immediate domestic and emotional needs dictate our lives

And so it is that all consuming emptiness that hung there, now does take its hold. Tap tap tap upon my shoulder

words and the words to say what I feel would ….

I think—not be beneficial for anyone to read; do no harm 

 never compromise your standards 

what was I thinking all this time 

you say 

—nobody is worth it, sweetie

listen to me

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/jmmusechron;Purpose refrain

 

I have become so rather lost in thoughts. I have digressed so many times. 

as things keep interrupting my thoughts—yes, 

so I forget where threads got left hanging there

can you imagine a thought like that?yes, that is what this sort of open-knot-work has become

;some spider who gets interrupted 

and all the weave 

is fraying 

and the spider is left hanging 

I wonder if this is the lesson after all —the net cannot hold the trapeze artist. 

Only some of you will get that. 

Or caught in her own weave?

I don’t know…. 

so, it seems I get so rather lost in my thoughts on some dusty road whilst running away from constant surveillance;the suspicious eyes of a retired agent …. and only want to get

Lost ….

But actually do

and even my phone seems to be caught in Bermuda’s Triangle; a tiny wheel inside it mocks me as it spins for several long minutes where google maps is claiming to be   

so get out of the car and look around realizing there is nothing around.

but does it really matter.

I half think I purposely got myself lost here so as 

….I’d not have to go back.ever.but now it is quite terrifying to realize no one will look for me.or know I was here.or came here.or care.

Those moments when you evaluate your life. And yourself.sometimes I wonder how it felt for Moses coming down from the mountain 

There is a random old log sitting on the dusty dirt road and so I sit down on it and try and clear my thoughts. 

What have I gained from all this exploration ….have I learned?

Yes.actually. And documented it all here in code. 

And had I ever tried to go mainstream in the past it would have been a waste of time, and I always knew this but then —I guess I believe the world wasn’t ready for anything I had to say. But that was true for Socrates. But he was Socrates. But how would anyone have known of him had he never tried to argue? But he was Socrates. 

this is the debate team in my head.and so I do actually feel about to fall apart there right in the middle of that depressing dirt road when out of nowhere I hear the loudest helicopter overhead and ….speaking of spiders ….something drops down very much like one —with golden hair

“Duva—I know you said you want no part of our schemes—“ as if he was just returning from the shops, hardly taking a breath 

“I —never—actually ….said that….” I stare at him 

And then look up as I see the helicopter from the hover just suddenly takes off 

I look up at Jörn and then at the car,

“uhhh—I’m lost and I’m having car issues so….” I look back up at the now long gone helicopter 

this is a bridge

 to another dimension 

  and so, I find I think again about purpose.think and then ask myself about fulfilling commitments ….time and thoughts of getting old.the double edged sword and then recalling that solitary image of Garbo and —consider meaning.each year I approach the age my mother died I gauge it all. I’m a philosopher. how we look at life.my aunt lived to 98 and I saw her in Oregon in 2017.so it is not the number as much —I believe—as how much purpose you serve