Thursday, March 11, 2010


That's the thing I'm very not. Or very un. Settled. Nor do I settle. Which makes me a problem, to myself mostly. I'm one of those prosecute to the finish kind of guys. Which is an odd thing for a mild mannered person to be. Although I do laugh in the face of adversity, not to mention wild storms on Lake Erie, which are reputedly that much worse than on the seas. How would I know?

Meanwhile, back on the homefront, there is medication to turn me from a thick blooded survivor of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune [really really sic] to a blue blooded bleeder. I shall remain on it for a sentence nearly as long as the ones I write. At least life is terminable, and that's a blessing.

I remain amazed, as the crocuses rear their blooms, and as I am reminded that love stirs even among those looking back on themselves rather than forward, at how few people do seem amazed at the conspiracy screens large and small, to put us all in the same mind at the same time, and who still believe that nothing but harm will come of this. Nothing but the Glenn Beck show of impotence and hurt and rage against the machine.

I am amazed that people still do seem to fear Sarah Palin as Adolf Hitler redux, as though nothing else has changed in this so recently passed meantime. That so few of us realize our potency as one. Among a million talking heads. Blogging fools.

This was always to be the end of the long Greek tragedy, where the audience is the mind of the playwright, and the stage is its enactment. The audience now as large and as unified as ever could be, possibly, imagined. Metaphor also must end someday, although more's the pity in the mind. That was and has been the Christian promise.

Saint Patrick's Day, then Easter, if I have my calendar straight. Too bad I won't be drinking. Sing God Damn! I'll be out of town for the good parts, and that's the better part of valor right there. Following a nice send-off party just ahead of the Big Day (St. Patty's silly! It's not for me, I'm just taking advantage, as always, of the bachelor excuse against pot luck) having a cast of hundreds, none aware of my presence. Not the me with name who has plenty of good and close friends, the me up here, talking with you, the non-existent one.

Send in the clowns, the replacement figure, for comic relief, borrowed this time from Chinese, where the stage never did stand in as focal point for mind's attention. Where the meaning never was displaced, metaphorically, outside its embodiment. Where poetry remained imminent, at the heart of the matter, with surface writings all that ever could be noticed or remarked. This kind allows for perpetual something; life lived beyond the local settlements.

Such a busy day ahead of me today. I'm off!

1 comment:

Shoptalker said...

Nope, sorry, you're wrong or they're wrong about that promise. Or is it a threat--the removal, denial, extinction of metaphor? Which would also be the removal, denial, extinction of the human brain. Without metaphor we'd a much more passive gaggle of geese.