I resolve to be better at acceptance 

I forget to remember.

isnt that interesting?

what was that?

stories high

I used to laugh at my mother; on Sundays her favorite sport was taking her mother of pearl antique opera glasses and go to the window. She’d step between the drape and look across at the apartments across from our Amsterdam flat. She knew what everyone was up to, it was really shamelessly shocking of her. But she told me, anyway, about the man and his lover and how they drank coffee naked together. Then there was the woman who dragged out the entire contents of her flat onto the balcony. And all day she would beat out rugs over the railing. 

If you look out from her opera glassses there were more than a hundred or so stories there. 

from the Future Saga of SanSingaulf

 

…. it is late day when the announcement comes that he has arrived. 

The west wing parlor faces out and within everything is of a black and very veined marble. Sansingaulf, wearing his deep cobalt blue robes. He sits upon the black throne as he awaits the announced arrival; his long silver beard reflects off the triple moons’ light that seeps from the arch of the doorway to the balcony, that, right now lays open emitting a cool evening breeze. 

“Byãrn….” Sansingaulf looks upon him as he approaches 

“What do you want this time?” Byãrn is openly annoyed 

“You know it’s time to play your part ….”

Quietly the other rages and walks towards the balcony.

He stands from there and shouts,

“Your precious ‘Terra’? or one of the others?— and, tell me!—why me—your bastard son?”

After a dreaded and ominous silence Sansingaulf rises and says,

“I think we both know why ….don't you recognize her?”

Kant bear to not Reason

To consider the Age of Enlightenment and what it meant to the common lives of people of the status quo in the western world and then look at our current world, how far since has this idea of equality of power been achieved, and what about this illusion of Pursuit of Happiness; voice? everyone is talking at the same time and none of it offers any sane solution.

Virginia’s Orlando (Tilda Swinton is fine to imagine if we consider her in relation to the author’s time frame and the concept of the second Elizabethan era and in relation to the works of the times) shrugs and walks away ….she/he may say as follows:

“It seems to me as if time has gotten away from me; so busy with the succession of traumas that I’ve had no time for life

to live

“I find myself watching the rushes of life go by as though only just seeing what’s been going on all the while around me. Like that Disneyworld ride, the Alice in wonderland tea party. Where you spin sound. Everything goes around you. The swirls of people; the mix of colors, like a Jackson Pollack painting you are immersed within as thrown with your back up against the inside wall of the cup holding you from being flung out ….there we are….pressed like Alice with back up against the inside wall of a cup….i see the lost several years of my life go by me —there! do you see it?

“yes….there she is —

    inside a Walt Disney version of Lewis Carroll’s cup 

          as it all goes back to 

                      Fairy Tales

“And  some —are— grimm!

“How the quill doth quiver as….i hesitate over this crossroads to decide ….”

And here Orlando may scratch his/her chin and look up at the sky and wonder aloud like this….

    “what path to put my ideas into….so many hours of thought should be neatly pressed, pages fastened together and bound at least for the sake of those little words that would ….get lost. Go wandering into the woods and blown away like breadcrumbs in the breeze 

like leaves in a forest or just sheets of paper with hand written words 

ideas —if to begin….” pause…. then decisive, “she would be on that page….” 

notes from the monk cell

  —if the historical “western” cultural eras are named after the English monarch’s reign; as in—Elizabethan, Victorian, Georgian, etc; than it’s a no-brainer we were just part of what has now  passed as the Second Elizabethan era— how has the focus of western “thought” there remained?—we should ask ourselves 

as the monks kept the books for their access to write —we may say it is only the convenience of the time keeping so studiously well kept thanks to their part taking in events(how accurate?), I’m sure— so, as we say BC and common error…. it’s convenient and there is something about having a Charles Dickens more humble English daddy to keep us all in line that —reaches more than we would have thought …. so….

we should proceed forth with this ….notes to self 

*documentation to continue personal thought notes (contrast Eastern Thought)

smears on a caveman wall

I imagine a ‘cave’; like the camouflaged hunter’s hide.

the elephants running.the mammoths, the dinosaurs.and watch as they run across the visage, through the gape of the cave, hidden within a grassy bluff. it is something like being stunned.how long have I been running in all that.and think of the hides on the hunter’s property I’d come to see so often i no longer noticed.hide in a green box to shoot at unsuspecting sweet deer. all the snakes live in those; just revenge I like to think to unsuspecting little feds.yes—where are they all running to and how far away is mars because it seems I’m there instead of here.it is a monk’s cell, really and ….from here it seems more possible to think….for so long it has been a marathon of running. only now I can see who I am 

but where do I fit ….out there? the elephants ….the zebras ….

the smears on a caveman wall?