An intellect which at a given instant knew all the forces with which nature is animated, and the respective situations of the beings that compose nature— supposing the said intellect were vast enough to subject these data to analysis—would embrace in the same formula the motions of the greatest bodies in the
universe and those of the slightest atom: nothing would be uncertain for it, and the future, like the past, would be present to its eyes
-Laplace, 'Introduction à la theorie analytique des
probabilités' Oeuvres Complètes, vol. VII. Paris, 1886, p.
vi.
via RA Fisher
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
do not attend the independent ivy (JAN -72 P.A.)
K: in direct response to silent g's resultant death (of hamish, i.e.) and general maliciousness perceived to be perpetuated by the barely post-adolescent populace upon itself
it is written posted stickered to every window
placed in each mailbox
under all the doors slid a warning missive in a fashion meant epistolary
the latest high decree sent down from desk of charlotte m friendly
a warning of new public policy
CMF: this is what we're talking about
this is why we talk about it
these are the consequences that will occur if you are caught or suspected of disseminating leaves or stems or petals by any method massive & cybernetic
post this tragedy there will be no remaking of a system that allows for recreational suicide
we know how you should act
trust us
you should know not to trust yourself
and do not even consider the consumption itself
however miniscule an amount
any medical exams that come back positive for ivy means you'll be expelled
no questions
M: and she releases these words from on high
but puts a spin on the idea tad differently
when in private facetime she speaks to the B.o.T.
CMF: i believe we were not meant to taste this purple freely
tis a color not intended to be munched upon
this hue too lucrative to leave a public option
it must be bought, ya hear me? & by a better market than these little hippie kids with barely wallets thick as tree leaves
there will be no more arborist thievery from here on out
E: so begins the new scheme to coöpt all that grows and control it unreasonably
CMF: further more
E: this meeting like doubly clandestine
CMF: i think we can see our data tracking making striding tracks across uncharted ground already
mr wizeman wised
C: beyond this new kind of administrative extralegal tomfoolery
there are personable hijinx abounding round the campus
in direct response to the quantum swerve that did occur when hamish tumbled
L: january rolls on with a vengeance as the fallout from the rave runs thru all the shitty numbers in a curling deadly sequence
this unfortunate trip has left us falling on our self-made swords
shit that happens when we leave them shoelaces untied
and forget to secure every of our aglets
we are dropping like flies left and right
T: first PDX got the B-O-O-T
after committing judicial seppuku
guilt a terrible ill-fitting suit for any former golden boy to don
and quickly news of his tearful showdown and subsequent confession
the lowest point
when she heard that he had rolled over
QNC quit school two days after that
(three days total post the OD of obu)
G: she takes just four bags
and bugs out of dodge uber fast
leaves the table and light fixtures
leaves behind bottles of colorful mixtures
boxes remain beneath the bed of things i never knew she even had
mostly fair-weather clothes
mostly now moth-ridden
kept under there darkly saved for a warm spring day on a quad she'd never see
but it is brought to light, all of it
all the boxes and the colored shit
her secret rainbows strewn across the hallway and the carpet just outside our room is soon become a proper roundabout
when all the hawt police and all their substance-sniffing robots
and then the state PD plus highway troopers come tramping thru
to jaunt and peruse of QNC's personal belongings
L: from the next door i catch glimpses in the peephole of the parading parascouts
there goes steady a stream of people but through black ears
(how darkly every orifice is deadened right now,
how strained a stretch of mental work exerting filtering force
i would rather not feel any thing at the moment
go away world, please)
i perceive that the noises made are far from joyful
and i begin to hope
(how strange and lonesome it tastes)
that there will be no more jurisdictional justice fomented over coming days
but it is fleeting, this teensy strand of belief
quickly flying coop w/all its positive parts
(how chicken-hearted, lily-livered, free-of-spleen a lost hope can make one feel)
to be replaced by pure and further darkness
left are i and only my uncomfortable thoughts
unable to worry about things outside my body any longer
i dissolve into my comforter
and weep for all the lawless loss this ivy's brought down to us
so many nouns distraught for naught but fault of education
torn apart for lacking proper recognition as a form of okay recreation
(how acidic water falls upon my cheeks when baseless accusations had rent that cloudy balance—nimbus strands to shreds—in the name of public health conservation for our great nation)
i curl up and wish hamish had always been dead
so i wouldn't have to have known him
and certainly not be missing him right now
that asshole
G: the fifth day sees a quiet absence dawn upon the hall
one foreboding, though; hefty w/menace impending
as if a jealous-for-attention calm had left a timebomb hidden for the storm to find upon arrival
the silence is uncomfortable and whack
L: i have roused myself barely to piss
doing the minimum movement makable in order to maintain homeostasis
it is written posted stickered to every window
placed in each mailbox
under all the doors slid a warning missive in a fashion meant epistolary
the latest high decree sent down from desk of charlotte m friendly
a warning of new public policy
CMF: this is what we're talking about
this is why we talk about it
these are the consequences that will occur if you are caught or suspected of disseminating leaves or stems or petals by any method massive & cybernetic
post this tragedy there will be no remaking of a system that allows for recreational suicide
we know how you should act
trust us
you should know not to trust yourself
and do not even consider the consumption itself
however miniscule an amount
any medical exams that come back positive for ivy means you'll be expelled
no questions
M: and she releases these words from on high
but puts a spin on the idea tad differently
when in private facetime she speaks to the B.o.T.
CMF: i believe we were not meant to taste this purple freely
tis a color not intended to be munched upon
this hue too lucrative to leave a public option
it must be bought, ya hear me? & by a better market than these little hippie kids with barely wallets thick as tree leaves
there will be no more arborist thievery from here on out
E: so begins the new scheme to coöpt all that grows and control it unreasonably
CMF: further more
E: this meeting like doubly clandestine
CMF: i think we can see our data tracking making striding tracks across uncharted ground already
mr wizeman wised
C: beyond this new kind of administrative extralegal tomfoolery
there are personable hijinx abounding round the campus
in direct response to the quantum swerve that did occur when hamish tumbled
L: january rolls on with a vengeance as the fallout from the rave runs thru all the shitty numbers in a curling deadly sequence
this unfortunate trip has left us falling on our self-made swords
shit that happens when we leave them shoelaces untied
and forget to secure every of our aglets
we are dropping like flies left and right
T: first PDX got the B-O-O-T
after committing judicial seppuku
guilt a terrible ill-fitting suit for any former golden boy to don
and quickly news of his tearful showdown and subsequent confession
the lowest point
when she heard that he had rolled over
QNC quit school two days after that
(three days total post the OD of obu)
G: she takes just four bags
and bugs out of dodge uber fast
leaves the table and light fixtures
leaves behind bottles of colorful mixtures
boxes remain beneath the bed of things i never knew she even had
mostly fair-weather clothes
mostly now moth-ridden
kept under there darkly saved for a warm spring day on a quad she'd never see
but it is brought to light, all of it
all the boxes and the colored shit
her secret rainbows strewn across the hallway and the carpet just outside our room is soon become a proper roundabout
when all the hawt police and all their substance-sniffing robots
and then the state PD plus highway troopers come tramping thru
to jaunt and peruse of QNC's personal belongings
L: from the next door i catch glimpses in the peephole of the parading parascouts
there goes steady a stream of people but through black ears
(how darkly every orifice is deadened right now,
how strained a stretch of mental work exerting filtering force
i would rather not feel any thing at the moment
go away world, please)
i perceive that the noises made are far from joyful
and i begin to hope
(how strange and lonesome it tastes)
that there will be no more jurisdictional justice fomented over coming days
but it is fleeting, this teensy strand of belief
quickly flying coop w/all its positive parts
(how chicken-hearted, lily-livered, free-of-spleen a lost hope can make one feel)
to be replaced by pure and further darkness
left are i and only my uncomfortable thoughts
unable to worry about things outside my body any longer
i dissolve into my comforter
and weep for all the lawless loss this ivy's brought down to us
so many nouns distraught for naught but fault of education
torn apart for lacking proper recognition as a form of okay recreation
(how acidic water falls upon my cheeks when baseless accusations had rent that cloudy balance—nimbus strands to shreds—in the name of public health conservation for our great nation)
i curl up and wish hamish had always been dead
so i wouldn't have to have known him
and certainly not be missing him right now
that asshole
G: the fifth day sees a quiet absence dawn upon the hall
one foreboding, though; hefty w/menace impending
as if a jealous-for-attention calm had left a timebomb hidden for the storm to find upon arrival
the silence is uncomfortable and whack
L: i have roused myself barely to piss
doing the minimum movement makable in order to maintain homeostasis
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
shield says concerning the 21st century schizo
A
logic of identity
is replaced by a more superficial, tactile
logic of identifi-
cation
; individuals become more mask-like
personae
...
with mutable
selves . . . Their multiple identifications form a private
dramatis personae
–a self which can no longer be simplistically theorised as unified, or based solely on an individuals job or productive function . . . Consumption for
adornment, expression and group solidarity become not merely the means
to a lifestyle, but the enactment of a lifestyle, these
personae
are more like
spiders at the centre of social and stylistic webs of their own making which
extend the body in space, rather than the autonomous, disconnected and
monadic ego-centred identities of bourgeois individuals. It is thus that one
may properly argue that the reliance on group-imposed and endowed per-
sonal identifications represents a breakdown [in] individualism even in the
midst of the motion towards identification.
9
¿consciousness?
the human system of molecularly driven neurons works in circuits or shells in a cascaded pathway sent shooting in sparks and ions through these blips, electric light show gifs in millisec shifts
ramble fierce and lightly through our forest heads running torches through the copses lighting leaves and the burned parts mark paths that we've trod before, quicker ways from a door through the show to another door
our brains are afraid—always—that snow might fall any minute
no matter how realistic the thought is the snow is a monstrous shadow 'bove our light source, looming
but any cold & dark that doesn't kill strengthens bark more tremendously
makes our wooden arks and leafy dendrites all the hungrier for sunlight & more receptive to those golden rays
a little bit of stress at self-paced intervals is good
too much will burn and then irradiate the wood, tho
what has been known as LTP & -D one level up from substrate in terms of what we do to learn things
we afflict the very molecules that run throughout our neural system with some fricative lightwaves
infrared and ultraviolet hazes we pervade throughout ourselves
this power our quantum inner rays of lazy auras
our passive and eternal spots of sunshine
magnet lines within our mind that reverberate when we pluck fine-fingered strings in quick sequence
and the molecules m
ramble fierce and lightly through our forest heads running torches through the copses lighting leaves and the burned parts mark paths that we've trod before, quicker ways from a door through the show to another door
our brains are afraid—always—that snow might fall any minute
no matter how realistic the thought is the snow is a monstrous shadow 'bove our light source, looming
but any cold & dark that doesn't kill strengthens bark more tremendously
makes our wooden arks and leafy dendrites all the hungrier for sunlight & more receptive to those golden rays
a little bit of stress at self-paced intervals is good
too much will burn and then irradiate the wood, tho
what has been known as LTP & -D one level up from substrate in terms of what we do to learn things
we afflict the very molecules that run throughout our neural system with some fricative lightwaves
infrared and ultraviolet hazes we pervade throughout ourselves
this power our quantum inner rays of lazy auras
our passive and eternal spots of sunshine
magnet lines within our mind that reverberate when we pluck fine-fingered strings in quick sequence
and the molecules m
hello, unfortunately (NOV -71 P.A.)
E: it is a phone call
buzzing screen, alit with a meaningful monosyllable: ma
on the desk next to freshly packed bowl of marijuana
it was a quiet thursday night, due-friday's problem set sets an ease for once
a breezy paper finished wednesday; early weekend
it is november of our carbon year -71 (post atomic age)
before the break of giving thanks he's giving thanks (+ w/ hamish in a bit, for a bit, during the 18 m. interval when floor 54's study space just closed and 23's hasn't opened yet, when ham'll stop by on his way down) with a mini-break from his regular self
goodbye, world; hi, universe
he sat in silence for a while prior, once the thing was gill-stuffed w/ some greenery
and marveled evermore to be so close (just next door!) to sunshine like 24/7
and secretly reveled in the solitude he knew to be impending
the happiest about-to-be hermit
with his logos alone
exploring forcing phonons in new patterns semi-recklessly
honing his rhetoricks for the automagic joy of it
growing his broca's metaphorically
roadrunner thru unexplored wordy forests exploring
free at last of all coyotes, fearless poet he can be
to take time and tie strings from tree to tree
find connections between as many leaves he can reasonably see
as long as he's got handy enough string
and as 2207 turns to 8 he reckons hamish to be running late (the erstwhile ETA 2203)
& takes initiative to light the thing preemptively when suddenly
[d.s. al capo, but just lines 1-3]
K: the BiC slackens, grip-wise
he stiffens involuntarily
he wonders how they know
(his parents, that is)
for what other serendipity could explain the ringing phone right now
L: but i stop the premature birth of a cow
put the BiC down
pick the call up
and say hello to ma (+ pa) black
i am on speaker w/them, then
and from the acoustics, sounds like in an ongoing car ride
it is a normal conversation
at first
just pleasantries exchanged
and trivia re: things from home
then how my classes are
just fine, as always
(a full description of the courses too long to explore telephonically)
we share interesting tidbits of popular media
they wonder how i've been feeding myself
dad worried in particular about some sophomore seventeen pounds of extra fat
another father on the force saw his kid come back from higher ed twice the man he was prior
and i laugh and say i'm not concerned; the frisbee keeps me running
it is good to gad again, for a bit
but then i get anxious from missing out on my regularly scheduled hits
it becomes the opposite of relaxing—overtaxing—to continue being occupied w/all this blathering gossip
E: sorry, roy thinks, as he thinks this
L: and i start to wonder how quickly i can wrap this conversation up and get back to the good shit
L: then ma unpacks a bombshell
slowly, unparsing it in verbiage piecemeal
and as w/ all her stories i am hooked and lined up for the sequel
before even the beginning part where credits roll quickly
there is a voice tone she takes that i just know implies a story
so i can't help but listen closely
T: yesterday she was in the garden harvesting tomatoes
very late in season was this last batch becoming edible
a hidden treasure trove of reddish globes behind her large hydrangea grove
she'd picked off up to the penultimate fruity bloom
already thinking of the soup she'd brew, but then
when reaching for the final orb her stomach muscles twinged—oops
a flare more than her normal body oldness acting up
she stopped; the pain went away abrupt as it'd came on
she tried to reach again
the torso's torsion rendered her close to speechless
no screams of agony emerged b/c to vocalize would hurt more, she felt quite clearly
pulling back, it dwindled quick, but still throbbed her left lat in vicious 2/4 time in a crookedly stitched jagged line, parallel to her spine
she found it strange, for sure; bizarro phantom slice from out her side
it was go #3—determined for that last tomato was she— when she fainted totally
right beside her favorite patch of green
curled up fetal clutching abdominally anguished muscles
twitching kind of crazily
her phone beside her, starting to ring
L: as it happened my dad had called her—or was trying—
to ask about how many cans of olives she needed
when she didn't answer
he got anxious
unjustly, kind of—but he just knew, somehow
left his cart unguarded in the produce aisle at the supermarket
abandoned all else to rush home
his calls still ringing, hardly not unnoticed, except by the bugs in the grass around her
swarming on the screen
E: and that's where he found her
and his public training as a cop and first responder kicked in
fighting off the emotional hurricane
—standing somehow stocky stolid in the eye of it—
of discovering a spouse lain out vibrating
a momentary profane vision—his worst nightmare—holy shit
grinning rictus of her face the vicious reminder of how life may leave you stricken w/o any premonition, seated in the seat beside him
in the blackest mirror floats her grimace, backlit by flashing blue and red
his own sirens on his tail the only escort
he radios ahead and lets the nurses know—ready the triage unit—
in the rush transmission he omits reporting it's his wife (the patient)
he is blocking out any distracting aspects of his personal life for the thirteen point five longest minutes it takes to get to the main hospital of Harmony
knowing only speed will keep her alive; that he only must drive
meanwhile, to the west of his normal mind, he is
pretending furiously that it's not jo, that she not be that disconnected body reverberating next to him
B: that simply just cannot be; i will not believe it
T: the mantra he repeats into the two-hued light beams
staring straight ahead; eyes totally on the road; in that pretty danger zone of theta waves in lapping drone circling his dome; avoiding cars an adjuvant goal to getting quickly there
that's his main focus
left hand clenching brusque tight on the steering wheel
the right w/a soothing brush around jo's shoulder stroking her arm, constant soft caresses
as if trying to warm her insides
B: i think her soul might have frostbite
T: well not, really; he's not sure what he did think, then; nothing more than crossing streets w/the utmost of speed was his intended cognitive achievement in those 810 seconds between leaving home and St Lucy's entrance
but as he pulls up he looks off to his left to turn, then right back
and finds his wife—how suddenly her—stirring, eyes cracked just slits
as if from some great nap she was just thawing out, now
maxillofacials gawp, exhausted by a shock they don't remember having happened
lactic acid build-up now releases; throughout her legs and feet fatigue creeps
B: she looks more tired than one would be normally just before going to sleep
with droopy eyes and thru a yawn she asks me point-blank
J: hun, where are we?
L: and at this point in the story my mom chuckles nonchalantly
like this was just the punchline of the joke she had just told me
and for a moment i am too stunned to speak
because for me this sounded too near-death an experience to funny be
but i laugh once, barking short and disconcertedly
and she continues on
J: so anyway that was last night and after a daylong barrage of tests
well
[beat]
L: i have never heard my mom hesitate mid-story before
this the first time she stumbles in her usually smooth rapport
J: they found a growth beneath my left chest cavity
about sixteen centimeters above my hip
kind of hanging out between my ribs
they're not sure what it is
or where it came from
but it's there, son
L: my mouth agape i hang on slack-jawed straining air thru arid gums to power my just found dumb neurons
stupefy me, cap'n
how to parse a once-thought impossible modern truth
inconceivable that those who had conceived you could suffer mortal shaking shuffles before they get to find themselves before a shuffleboard, sweeping giant checkerpieces up flat pyramids to pass away the waning hours
an anti-reality check, it feels like
this is why i always hated chess:
there's too many possibilities to track quite perfectly
so you always miss the backdoor bishop
then it's too late to avoid check, so you get desperate to stay mate-free
J: so that's what's up, as an FYI for ya
just thought you'd want to know what's been going on at home
while you've been gone
we'll see you in a week or so
B: btw, bud, do you care if for turkey day we do boiled potatoes?
your grandmother is coming and you know how she can get about mashed foods
L: um no, not really
do i care
i mean i do
but grandma wanda's cares should take precedence
i'm not really that picky
J: swell, then; my mom will be thrilled to hear we all acquiesced once again to her bizarre culinary requests
B: that's what the holidays are all about
J: okay we'll let you go, roy
i'm sure you've still got tons of homework, you lucky boy
enjoy the readings
we'll pick you up next week
love you bye bye
B: bye son
L: um yeah bye to you two too
[hamish walks in, then, upon him hanging up]
H: who was that?
never mind, i don't really care
sorry i'm late—oh, i'd've thought you'd started by now
can i grab that bowl first?
L: sure
H: holy fuck am i in need of a break from this academic rigor
unhealthy to have been my last six hours de rigueur
ergo goodbye shitty french regulations, and let us get quickly schwasted, bråj!!!
E: click goes the BiC & phwoom goes a corner of the bowl up in smoke
hamish exhales a large plume; the room dims w/ the addition of some ashy motes
H: mmm, minty fresh, just what i needed; by the way, how'd your paper go?
L: fine, i guess
H: super
my problem sets were pretty easy
i think i'm finally getting somewhere w/the research, too
it's all clicking together, i can feel it
here: i believe it's passed to you
L: thanks man
H: yeah i got caught up in a gnarly logic loop i had to disentangle
T: leroy lifts the bowl to his lips; the corner cherries still
he decides not to light it anew and just pulls, gingerly
and the embers weep fresh THC down the stem flowing freely
H: hence the tardiness, and i would've texted, but i figured you know me by now
enough to get that i'd be down in time; i wouldn't miss this for the world
T: leroy nods, still drawing breath of emerald firebrand
he inhales it, holds it in, keeps the bowl in his hand
as alveolar absorption occurs—he feels the bronchi protesting
his eyes examine the burning orange which has spread since he first toked it in
H: this is some good shit
QNC said she just got it in
from mexico, i think?
or was it canada? either way
our neighbors north and south are on top of it
grass game strong, yo
i'd like to move there when my YPI years are done
L: where? to which one?
H: *shrug*; does it matter?
they both are far enough from home to be refreshing
what's more important is what they grow
i'd like to live in a greener zone than this one, is all
L: huh
H: and anyhow i've got time to figure it out
can i hit that, bro?
L: of course
E: once passed back, ham hits it hard w/major flames
forcefully impelling 'dro into his lungs
leroy watches him; his face droops, numb
he can't help himself but to wonder, out of nowhere
L: why do they call it cornering? the bowl's a circle, right?
it's only got one edge, nary a vertex in sight
what's the deal with that?
E: hamish laughs and coughs and hacks
phlegm expelled upon a nearby houseplant
H: what a question, man; i've never thought of it
L: there's gotta be a reason, based in the description of the thing or action
etymologies don't just happen; they're drawn out in context by humans
H: i'm not sure i agree, actually
sometimes things just occur
that's the root of universal absurdity
that compels life from being just what ought
and makes it what will actually be
L: but in this case—
H: in this case in particular
i wouldn't be surprised to find it baseless a moniker
drugs make people say things more ridiculous than normal
and also, who's to say there's never been a square bowl?
L: have you ever seen one?
H: no, but i can imagine it, &
therefore as a human i believe i can believe in it
here: i think you're the cash cab; take the last hit
i've gotta get going again; knowledge stops for no man
think some more about the bowls
shapes are tricky for an english major, i know
but i'm sure it's a crackable mystery for a linguistic type like yourself
arrividerci, compadre
good luck on your search for meaning, and good health
L: to you as well
E: hamish is out the door already by then, as leroy says it
genius anxious to be on his way and back into the stacks
needing to recommence his research almost immediately; unable to relax completely
the questing need for quaere's answers burning hot against his feet
L: and i am faced w/ the last of the dying coals
wondering why anything happens; what's it all for?
T: he wracks his brain but nothing appears
totally forgotten is his aim to write tonight; all he feels is a ringing in his ears
he kills the final bits of weed w/angry fire
then crawls abed and passes out, as any'd be by disaster tired
buzzing screen, alit with a meaningful monosyllable: ma
on the desk next to freshly packed bowl of marijuana
it was a quiet thursday night, due-friday's problem set sets an ease for once
a breezy paper finished wednesday; early weekend
it is november of our carbon year -71 (post atomic age)
before the break of giving thanks he's giving thanks (+ w/ hamish in a bit, for a bit, during the 18 m. interval when floor 54's study space just closed and 23's hasn't opened yet, when ham'll stop by on his way down) with a mini-break from his regular self
goodbye, world; hi, universe
he sat in silence for a while prior, once the thing was gill-stuffed w/ some greenery
and marveled evermore to be so close (just next door!) to sunshine like 24/7
and secretly reveled in the solitude he knew to be impending
the happiest about-to-be hermit
with his logos alone
exploring forcing phonons in new patterns semi-recklessly
honing his rhetoricks for the automagic joy of it
growing his broca's metaphorically
roadrunner thru unexplored wordy forests exploring
free at last of all coyotes, fearless poet he can be
to take time and tie strings from tree to tree
find connections between as many leaves he can reasonably see
as long as he's got handy enough string
and as 2207 turns to 8 he reckons hamish to be running late (the erstwhile ETA 2203)
& takes initiative to light the thing preemptively when suddenly
[d.s. al capo, but just lines 1-3]
K: the BiC slackens, grip-wise
he stiffens involuntarily
he wonders how they know
(his parents, that is)
for what other serendipity could explain the ringing phone right now
L: but i stop the premature birth of a cow
put the BiC down
pick the call up
and say hello to ma (+ pa) black
i am on speaker w/them, then
and from the acoustics, sounds like in an ongoing car ride
it is a normal conversation
at first
just pleasantries exchanged
and trivia re: things from home
then how my classes are
just fine, as always
(a full description of the courses too long to explore telephonically)
we share interesting tidbits of popular media
they wonder how i've been feeding myself
dad worried in particular about some sophomore seventeen pounds of extra fat
another father on the force saw his kid come back from higher ed twice the man he was prior
and i laugh and say i'm not concerned; the frisbee keeps me running
it is good to gad again, for a bit
but then i get anxious from missing out on my regularly scheduled hits
it becomes the opposite of relaxing—overtaxing—to continue being occupied w/all this blathering gossip
E: sorry, roy thinks, as he thinks this
L: and i start to wonder how quickly i can wrap this conversation up and get back to the good shit
L: then ma unpacks a bombshell
slowly, unparsing it in verbiage piecemeal
and as w/ all her stories i am hooked and lined up for the sequel
before even the beginning part where credits roll quickly
there is a voice tone she takes that i just know implies a story
so i can't help but listen closely
T: yesterday she was in the garden harvesting tomatoes
very late in season was this last batch becoming edible
a hidden treasure trove of reddish globes behind her large hydrangea grove
she'd picked off up to the penultimate fruity bloom
already thinking of the soup she'd brew, but then
when reaching for the final orb her stomach muscles twinged—oops
a flare more than her normal body oldness acting up
she stopped; the pain went away abrupt as it'd came on
she tried to reach again
the torso's torsion rendered her close to speechless
no screams of agony emerged b/c to vocalize would hurt more, she felt quite clearly
pulling back, it dwindled quick, but still throbbed her left lat in vicious 2/4 time in a crookedly stitched jagged line, parallel to her spine
she found it strange, for sure; bizarro phantom slice from out her side
it was go #3—determined for that last tomato was she— when she fainted totally
right beside her favorite patch of green
curled up fetal clutching abdominally anguished muscles
twitching kind of crazily
her phone beside her, starting to ring
L: as it happened my dad had called her—or was trying—
to ask about how many cans of olives she needed
when she didn't answer
he got anxious
unjustly, kind of—but he just knew, somehow
left his cart unguarded in the produce aisle at the supermarket
abandoned all else to rush home
his calls still ringing, hardly not unnoticed, except by the bugs in the grass around her
swarming on the screen
E: and that's where he found her
and his public training as a cop and first responder kicked in
fighting off the emotional hurricane
—standing somehow stocky stolid in the eye of it—
of discovering a spouse lain out vibrating
a momentary profane vision—his worst nightmare—holy shit
grinning rictus of her face the vicious reminder of how life may leave you stricken w/o any premonition, seated in the seat beside him
in the blackest mirror floats her grimace, backlit by flashing blue and red
his own sirens on his tail the only escort
he radios ahead and lets the nurses know—ready the triage unit—
in the rush transmission he omits reporting it's his wife (the patient)
he is blocking out any distracting aspects of his personal life for the thirteen point five longest minutes it takes to get to the main hospital of Harmony
knowing only speed will keep her alive; that he only must drive
meanwhile, to the west of his normal mind, he is
pretending furiously that it's not jo, that she not be that disconnected body reverberating next to him
B: that simply just cannot be; i will not believe it
T: the mantra he repeats into the two-hued light beams
staring straight ahead; eyes totally on the road; in that pretty danger zone of theta waves in lapping drone circling his dome; avoiding cars an adjuvant goal to getting quickly there
that's his main focus
left hand clenching brusque tight on the steering wheel
the right w/a soothing brush around jo's shoulder stroking her arm, constant soft caresses
as if trying to warm her insides
B: i think her soul might have frostbite
T: well not, really; he's not sure what he did think, then; nothing more than crossing streets w/the utmost of speed was his intended cognitive achievement in those 810 seconds between leaving home and St Lucy's entrance
but as he pulls up he looks off to his left to turn, then right back
and finds his wife—how suddenly her—stirring, eyes cracked just slits
as if from some great nap she was just thawing out, now
maxillofacials gawp, exhausted by a shock they don't remember having happened
lactic acid build-up now releases; throughout her legs and feet fatigue creeps
B: she looks more tired than one would be normally just before going to sleep
with droopy eyes and thru a yawn she asks me point-blank
J: hun, where are we?
L: and at this point in the story my mom chuckles nonchalantly
like this was just the punchline of the joke she had just told me
and for a moment i am too stunned to speak
because for me this sounded too near-death an experience to funny be
but i laugh once, barking short and disconcertedly
and she continues on
J: so anyway that was last night and after a daylong barrage of tests
well
[beat]
L: i have never heard my mom hesitate mid-story before
this the first time she stumbles in her usually smooth rapport
J: they found a growth beneath my left chest cavity
about sixteen centimeters above my hip
kind of hanging out between my ribs
they're not sure what it is
or where it came from
but it's there, son
L: my mouth agape i hang on slack-jawed straining air thru arid gums to power my just found dumb neurons
stupefy me, cap'n
how to parse a once-thought impossible modern truth
inconceivable that those who had conceived you could suffer mortal shaking shuffles before they get to find themselves before a shuffleboard, sweeping giant checkerpieces up flat pyramids to pass away the waning hours
an anti-reality check, it feels like
this is why i always hated chess:
there's too many possibilities to track quite perfectly
so you always miss the backdoor bishop
then it's too late to avoid check, so you get desperate to stay mate-free
J: so that's what's up, as an FYI for ya
just thought you'd want to know what's been going on at home
while you've been gone
we'll see you in a week or so
B: btw, bud, do you care if for turkey day we do boiled potatoes?
your grandmother is coming and you know how she can get about mashed foods
L: um no, not really
do i care
i mean i do
but grandma wanda's cares should take precedence
i'm not really that picky
J: swell, then; my mom will be thrilled to hear we all acquiesced once again to her bizarre culinary requests
B: that's what the holidays are all about
J: okay we'll let you go, roy
i'm sure you've still got tons of homework, you lucky boy
enjoy the readings
we'll pick you up next week
love you bye bye
B: bye son
L: um yeah bye to you two too
[hamish walks in, then, upon him hanging up]
H: who was that?
never mind, i don't really care
sorry i'm late—oh, i'd've thought you'd started by now
can i grab that bowl first?
L: sure
H: holy fuck am i in need of a break from this academic rigor
unhealthy to have been my last six hours de rigueur
ergo goodbye shitty french regulations, and let us get quickly schwasted, bråj!!!
E: click goes the BiC & phwoom goes a corner of the bowl up in smoke
hamish exhales a large plume; the room dims w/ the addition of some ashy motes
H: mmm, minty fresh, just what i needed; by the way, how'd your paper go?
L: fine, i guess
H: super
my problem sets were pretty easy
i think i'm finally getting somewhere w/the research, too
it's all clicking together, i can feel it
here: i believe it's passed to you
L: thanks man
H: yeah i got caught up in a gnarly logic loop i had to disentangle
T: leroy lifts the bowl to his lips; the corner cherries still
he decides not to light it anew and just pulls, gingerly
and the embers weep fresh THC down the stem flowing freely
H: hence the tardiness, and i would've texted, but i figured you know me by now
enough to get that i'd be down in time; i wouldn't miss this for the world
T: leroy nods, still drawing breath of emerald firebrand
he inhales it, holds it in, keeps the bowl in his hand
as alveolar absorption occurs—he feels the bronchi protesting
his eyes examine the burning orange which has spread since he first toked it in
H: this is some good shit
QNC said she just got it in
from mexico, i think?
or was it canada? either way
our neighbors north and south are on top of it
grass game strong, yo
i'd like to move there when my YPI years are done
L: where? to which one?
H: *shrug*; does it matter?
they both are far enough from home to be refreshing
what's more important is what they grow
i'd like to live in a greener zone than this one, is all
L: huh
H: and anyhow i've got time to figure it out
can i hit that, bro?
L: of course
E: once passed back, ham hits it hard w/major flames
forcefully impelling 'dro into his lungs
leroy watches him; his face droops, numb
he can't help himself but to wonder, out of nowhere
L: why do they call it cornering? the bowl's a circle, right?
it's only got one edge, nary a vertex in sight
what's the deal with that?
E: hamish laughs and coughs and hacks
phlegm expelled upon a nearby houseplant
H: what a question, man; i've never thought of it
L: there's gotta be a reason, based in the description of the thing or action
etymologies don't just happen; they're drawn out in context by humans
H: i'm not sure i agree, actually
sometimes things just occur
that's the root of universal absurdity
that compels life from being just what ought
and makes it what will actually be
L: but in this case—
H: in this case in particular
i wouldn't be surprised to find it baseless a moniker
drugs make people say things more ridiculous than normal
and also, who's to say there's never been a square bowl?
L: have you ever seen one?
H: no, but i can imagine it, &
therefore as a human i believe i can believe in it
here: i think you're the cash cab; take the last hit
i've gotta get going again; knowledge stops for no man
think some more about the bowls
shapes are tricky for an english major, i know
but i'm sure it's a crackable mystery for a linguistic type like yourself
arrividerci, compadre
good luck on your search for meaning, and good health
L: to you as well
E: hamish is out the door already by then, as leroy says it
genius anxious to be on his way and back into the stacks
needing to recommence his research almost immediately; unable to relax completely
the questing need for quaere's answers burning hot against his feet
L: and i am faced w/ the last of the dying coals
wondering why anything happens; what's it all for?
T: he wracks his brain but nothing appears
totally forgotten is his aim to write tonight; all he feels is a ringing in his ears
he kills the final bits of weed w/angry fire
then crawls abed and passes out, as any'd be by disaster tired
DRAMATIS PERSONAE + WHERE IT ALL GOES DOWN
CAST
the muses;- CLEO
- KALI
- TALI
- POLLY
- ERATO
- PIA
- MEL
- COREY
- RANYA
the unkempt triangle;
HAMISH OBU
LEROY 'WIKIPEDIA' BLACK
AUGUSTA PETERSON
QUINCY JONES (n.r.)
POINDEXTER WISEMAN
& the YPI STRAY FLOCK
& the YPI STRAY FLOCK
y.p.i. faculty & staff;
CHARLOTTE MINOS FRIENDLY
BERIC FLAVVERS
PATRICIA SAFE
PETER SAFE
WILMER MORSE
THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES
JOANNE BLACK
BERNARD BLACK
PATRICIA SAFE
PETER SAFE
WILMER MORSE
THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES
JOANNE BLACK
BERNARD BLACK
KARL BAGON
ISABEL ZOE MORSE
DAVID CABBAGE
as themselves;
FRANK SINATRA
KANYE WEST
ELVIS
DRAKE
O.C.
& every body i forgot to rememberDRAKE
O.C.
SETTING
place: Yorcester Polytechnic Institute, Harmony, PA, U.S., N.A., W.H., GA, S.S., M.W., etc.time: 1945—>?
Monday, August 8, 2016
FURTHER GROVE; ELECTRIC BOOGIE (OCT -71 P.A.)
P: & in his MITnAS he is mobile in the crazy looping sense of it: fully aerial & loving it having 'flown' more than once (i.e. x2) throughout his youth like any VR enthusiast he is properly suited for the task; he just had to start dressing like it
classes happen but he dreams of only flying
he waltzes thru them knowing that on the other side there waits a golden statue made for him to ride into the skies
and so gifted with wings he soars for it
with a fearlessness beneath his aerial step that is unmatched by any member of the department
he dances wonderfully across the canopies, waltzing wild through the forests, tango tipsy-turvy in the—
L: well, it turns out you can't actually fly very far or fast under current FAA regulations
P: but it's high enough the jetpack automagical limits let him get to be satisfied w/his own kind of wings
E: on this day he is cruising through the outer grove toward that stand of twelve
specifically headed for the tallest tree on YPI's campus
the only one to rival the tower itself
BIG PAPA, 246m tall
routine maintenance of the sylvan skirts that lay sentinel ‘tween the college and the town outside falls to him every Monday night and Thursday early afternoon
L: & i’d say i prefer the night shift, if just for the starry sights
& the cooling function on MITnAS can be kind of underwhelming during bright sunshine
this was a thursday right before my lunch break, so not the greatest
but the sky was kinda hazy, meaning mostly shady, making me a little happier
so my flight pretty much started off fine
i arrived copse-side at 1416 hrs and lit amid the monstrous bowers of trunks so thick as to be monuments of bark
these columns built by sunlight and some H2O
i spin from sequoia to sequoia through the canopies in slipstream sliding aerially, ‘round odd flocks of birds—all sorts—that wheel themselves around the greenery
finally latching fully onto Big Papa with bungee’d carabiner
about 123 m up in the air
and begin to trim its excess branches and brambles
clean the growth in just the way the headlights tell me, i.e.
E: just follow LED patterns w/ the hacksaw, though ensure you don’t buzz overzealously
L: i fall into a senseless, brutish rhythm pretty easily
it’s a rote pattern of action but therapeutic in the casual sense
staying manually repetitive is all theta wave relaxing
+ for good measure i’m listening to music
(Sufjan Stevens) thru the built-in haraldphonics in the MITnAS
w/ the combo of tunes & menial labor i soon leave this earthly area
and pursue the behavior to its perfectly precise end result
in the middle of the bushy manicure i'm manufacturing
i notice a thing that most usually is not upon this leafy section
in hot violet flashes, curl some ivy strands around BIG PAPA's trunk
have snarled midst the barky gnarls, a royally chromatic weed that's just not supposed to be
here, & incredibly the LEDs ignore it; under the radar falls its band of hue, i think
it is unseen to the computer but before me curls it, plain in ultra light beams
i kill the tool and investigate more closely
it is beautiful, i think; never having come across these kinds of strands before
i wonder where they came from
how they got up here
why...
[a basso profundo kerthunk of distant thunder]
[leroy looks up from the ivy]
L: shit
i’m so focused on these fucking bits of purple leaves
i miss the dark clouds rolling in around me
& don’t snap out of it till i hear water droplets splash against my face shield
& by the time i gather stock of my new dangerous surroundings i can only realize that the storm has arrived
i hear cracks faraway, moving closer; ominous gunmetal indigo is the sky in jagged wisps
i try to gather my toolkit; pack up all i brought
in slow motion a bright light before my eyes is drawn to the sequoia to the left of me, and the twelve birds upon it
then my phone buzzes
the rest i remember experiencing only retrospectively
in the moment it was utter jet black
but i am told a lot happened in that darkest millisecond
[total illumination of a blinding white flavor fills the stage]
[then it fades, followed by a sharp crackle]
bzzt
L: as the tree flashed w/lightning, i saw
sparkling
starlings
startled
falter
hardly sixteen milliseconds
then immediately automatic antikatabatic reflex mechanisms kick in
balky wings first dip
then stiffen
black pinions glisten in the sudden brightness
absorb all light waves save dark purplish; ultraviolet excess the heat gets excreted as & with speed in full flight
the light leaves
the tree smokes, its leaves echo whitely;
the birds flee in the moment of open eye blindness
i begin to fly away
my thrusters reverse as strong as force allows, i have jerked back fully towards where i remember home was not too long ago
first i zoom then am frozen for one frame then unzoom in the other direction (X+Y axial vector acceleration)
suddenly my velocity is negative
realizing as momentum shifts that i am still by bungee tethered loosely to this tree trunk
and my pull resulted in a pushback toward the bark
it approaches my face closely but by bare reflex i am able to veer rocket-wise to the left
i skirt the sequoia with a bare whoosh and escape w/ just a scrape along my right forearm
but now i am speeding further backwards from the direction of shelter, into deeper outskirts
and my bungee is still attached to the tree behind me; i speed on and brace for whiplash
but it snaps
i career tumbling gliding falling up
i cannot stop
i cannot
[a sudden change of everything
centered round a line of lightning
touching leroy to the ground + ceiling
suspended lengthwise, he is stretching
the photons extend- & dissolving his being
he is connected to infinity, is how it feels]
L: the suit beeps haywire
ozone snap makes crackled pops
my ears sound as if they are on fire
all my pores feel, like, crispier
my limbs are frozen
in permanent change i am stuck,
simultaneous as bodily i am struck
30k K of electric energy in a burst of ions caper
my limbs aloft are shaking vapor free like burning trees
i am oozing thru my pores my soul, shedding fiery weight like fool's gold
ekpyrosis done as pyrite's forced departure heralds
titanic change in this fellow
bzzt
R: a rogue guero in a rosy golden aura haloed
free at last for once from the torment of tomorrow
he is the man of shells, and once flung a substantial ‘nuff x+y vector they all start to pulse in unisolated oscillations
cycling rhythmic electric outward-minded circles
MITnAS self-conducting an orchestra of every lambda
the sparky loop starts its running from most inner barycenter
then as hoop voltaic expands in concentric growing bands; every molecule set reverberating by the one that lies inside it on the 3D spectra
it echoes the sum of the thrums that occurred right before it
L: i am beating with something
C: (he thinks in flashes)
E: he is flying
he is flying
he is falling up
T: and then there is nothing for a while
P: when leroy comes back down to earth
the world shudders once, say all the nurses & emts & attendant physicians who saw the object impact
from t-minus 3 sec & ~40m out & up above, tracking en masse flight path
scopophilic tendencies of the eye-guided Is the premier drive behind their benign &,
like,
blithe unconcern as they saunter (these docs do) full of nonchalance across the lawn
following their nice post midterm catered picnic
they wonder jovially if it may be a comet
laughing casually and light about the wacky things one may encounter on this wacky campus
that is yorcester polytechnic institute
the tallest school in the Northeast US Region (3 yrs running, tho the crown has been in jeopardy recently)
M: what an accomplishment
tallness for the sake of tallness
of course there will be things falling from the sky
what goes up must come down
and there is serious consideration for which part of space this may have descended from
though they're more inclined to watch reruns of Grey's Anatomy (these docs are) than of Cosmos
C: it's a disappointing climax when upon actual impact there’s only one li'l rattle in the full & tectonic sense
excluding the aftershocks of internal excitement plainly happening displayed on every eager bright-faced white-labelled RN’s heart sleeves
in every third case among them one could safely say they thought (these docs did, one in three) that they would one day go to space
about 33% of kids @ YPI attend precisely for the height advantage; new proximity to outer space beyond the gaian terrain
astronautic occupations never cease to offer endless wonder to our tiny flightless grounded brains
but the slots on the shuttles were harder to bargain for in hearty body mind & soul than any kid quite can imagine
ergo here they find themselves
tangentially fulfilling their acropassion
taking classes on the tallest outcropping around
R: as the doctors’ picnic nears the crater
wondering what would wait beneath its upturned dirt walls
what encircled by ejecta they could expect to find
chit-chat dwindles
so fast that by first glance the gasp of she who spots the body mid-vibration in its self-made dirty caldera
carries (gasp does) to the back of the group
roughshod tumbles thru the silence that did just fall
and the information dicta carries news on telegraphic monosyllables
bearing clues of what darkness awaits within the crater
they now know (the caboose does) before they can see it
what to expect
it's the worst
but instead he turns out upon touch not quite dead
not quite yet
& the mystery is lessened
& his death becomes a legend
because it doesn't happen
not then, at least
it is the corpse that wouldn't quit, still shocked
P: we are witnessing one man's personal ragnarok
nobody in particular thought
but it was around, floating
classes happen but he dreams of only flying
he waltzes thru them knowing that on the other side there waits a golden statue made for him to ride into the skies
and so gifted with wings he soars for it
with a fearlessness beneath his aerial step that is unmatched by any member of the department
he dances wonderfully across the canopies, waltzing wild through the forests, tango tipsy-turvy in the—
L: well, it turns out you can't actually fly very far or fast under current FAA regulations
P: but it's high enough the jetpack automagical limits let him get to be satisfied w/his own kind of wings
E: on this day he is cruising through the outer grove toward that stand of twelve
specifically headed for the tallest tree on YPI's campus
the only one to rival the tower itself
BIG PAPA, 246m tall
routine maintenance of the sylvan skirts that lay sentinel ‘tween the college and the town outside falls to him every Monday night and Thursday early afternoon
L: & i’d say i prefer the night shift, if just for the starry sights
& the cooling function on MITnAS can be kind of underwhelming during bright sunshine
this was a thursday right before my lunch break, so not the greatest
but the sky was kinda hazy, meaning mostly shady, making me a little happier
so my flight pretty much started off fine
i arrived copse-side at 1416 hrs and lit amid the monstrous bowers of trunks so thick as to be monuments of bark
these columns built by sunlight and some H2O
i spin from sequoia to sequoia through the canopies in slipstream sliding aerially, ‘round odd flocks of birds—all sorts—that wheel themselves around the greenery
finally latching fully onto Big Papa with bungee’d carabiner
about 123 m up in the air
and begin to trim its excess branches and brambles
clean the growth in just the way the headlights tell me, i.e.
E: just follow LED patterns w/ the hacksaw, though ensure you don’t buzz overzealously
L: i fall into a senseless, brutish rhythm pretty easily
it’s a rote pattern of action but therapeutic in the casual sense
staying manually repetitive is all theta wave relaxing
+ for good measure i’m listening to music
(Sufjan Stevens) thru the built-in haraldphonics in the MITnAS
w/ the combo of tunes & menial labor i soon leave this earthly area
and pursue the behavior to its perfectly precise end result
in the middle of the bushy manicure i'm manufacturing
i notice a thing that most usually is not upon this leafy section
in hot violet flashes, curl some ivy strands around BIG PAPA's trunk
have snarled midst the barky gnarls, a royally chromatic weed that's just not supposed to be
here, & incredibly the LEDs ignore it; under the radar falls its band of hue, i think
it is unseen to the computer but before me curls it, plain in ultra light beams
i kill the tool and investigate more closely
it is beautiful, i think; never having come across these kinds of strands before
i wonder where they came from
how they got up here
why...
[a basso profundo kerthunk of distant thunder]
[leroy looks up from the ivy]
L: shit
i’m so focused on these fucking bits of purple leaves
i miss the dark clouds rolling in around me
& don’t snap out of it till i hear water droplets splash against my face shield
& by the time i gather stock of my new dangerous surroundings i can only realize that the storm has arrived
i hear cracks faraway, moving closer; ominous gunmetal indigo is the sky in jagged wisps
i try to gather my toolkit; pack up all i brought
in slow motion a bright light before my eyes is drawn to the sequoia to the left of me, and the twelve birds upon it
then my phone buzzes
the rest i remember experiencing only retrospectively
in the moment it was utter jet black
but i am told a lot happened in that darkest millisecond
[total illumination of a blinding white flavor fills the stage]
[then it fades, followed by a sharp crackle]
bzzt
L: as the tree flashed w/lightning, i saw
sparkling
starlings
startled
falter
hardly sixteen milliseconds
then immediately automatic antikatabatic reflex mechanisms kick in
balky wings first dip
then stiffen
black pinions glisten in the sudden brightness
absorb all light waves save dark purplish; ultraviolet excess the heat gets excreted as & with speed in full flight
the light leaves
the tree smokes, its leaves echo whitely;
the birds flee in the moment of open eye blindness
i begin to fly away
my thrusters reverse as strong as force allows, i have jerked back fully towards where i remember home was not too long ago
first i zoom then am frozen for one frame then unzoom in the other direction (X+Y axial vector acceleration)
suddenly my velocity is negative
realizing as momentum shifts that i am still by bungee tethered loosely to this tree trunk
and my pull resulted in a pushback toward the bark
it approaches my face closely but by bare reflex i am able to veer rocket-wise to the left
i skirt the sequoia with a bare whoosh and escape w/ just a scrape along my right forearm
but now i am speeding further backwards from the direction of shelter, into deeper outskirts
and my bungee is still attached to the tree behind me; i speed on and brace for whiplash
but it snaps
i career tumbling gliding falling up
i cannot stop
i cannot
[a sudden change of everything
centered round a line of lightning
touching leroy to the ground + ceiling
suspended lengthwise, he is stretching
the photons extend- & dissolving his being
he is connected to infinity, is how it feels]
L: the suit beeps haywire
ozone snap makes crackled pops
my ears sound as if they are on fire
all my pores feel, like, crispier
my limbs are frozen
in permanent change i am stuck,
simultaneous as bodily i am struck
30k K of electric energy in a burst of ions caper
my limbs aloft are shaking vapor free like burning trees
i am oozing thru my pores my soul, shedding fiery weight like fool's gold
ekpyrosis done as pyrite's forced departure heralds
titanic change in this fellow
bzzt
R: a rogue guero in a rosy golden aura haloed
free at last for once from the torment of tomorrow
he is the man of shells, and once flung a substantial ‘nuff x+y vector they all start to pulse in unisolated oscillations
cycling rhythmic electric outward-minded circles
MITnAS self-conducting an orchestra of every lambda
the sparky loop starts its running from most inner barycenter
then as hoop voltaic expands in concentric growing bands; every molecule set reverberating by the one that lies inside it on the 3D spectra
it echoes the sum of the thrums that occurred right before it
L: i am beating with something
C: (he thinks in flashes)
E: he is flying
he is flying
he is falling up
T: and then there is nothing for a while
P: when leroy comes back down to earth
the world shudders once, say all the nurses & emts & attendant physicians who saw the object impact
from t-minus 3 sec & ~40m out & up above, tracking en masse flight path
scopophilic tendencies of the eye-guided Is the premier drive behind their benign &,
like,
blithe unconcern as they saunter (these docs do) full of nonchalance across the lawn
following their nice post midterm catered picnic
they wonder jovially if it may be a comet
laughing casually and light about the wacky things one may encounter on this wacky campus
that is yorcester polytechnic institute
the tallest school in the Northeast US Region (3 yrs running, tho the crown has been in jeopardy recently)
M: what an accomplishment
tallness for the sake of tallness
of course there will be things falling from the sky
what goes up must come down
and there is serious consideration for which part of space this may have descended from
though they're more inclined to watch reruns of Grey's Anatomy (these docs are) than of Cosmos
C: it's a disappointing climax when upon actual impact there’s only one li'l rattle in the full & tectonic sense
excluding the aftershocks of internal excitement plainly happening displayed on every eager bright-faced white-labelled RN’s heart sleeves
in every third case among them one could safely say they thought (these docs did, one in three) that they would one day go to space
about 33% of kids @ YPI attend precisely for the height advantage; new proximity to outer space beyond the gaian terrain
astronautic occupations never cease to offer endless wonder to our tiny flightless grounded brains
but the slots on the shuttles were harder to bargain for in hearty body mind & soul than any kid quite can imagine
ergo here they find themselves
tangentially fulfilling their acropassion
taking classes on the tallest outcropping around
R: as the doctors’ picnic nears the crater
wondering what would wait beneath its upturned dirt walls
what encircled by ejecta they could expect to find
chit-chat dwindles
so fast that by first glance the gasp of she who spots the body mid-vibration in its self-made dirty caldera
carries (gasp does) to the back of the group
roughshod tumbles thru the silence that did just fall
and the information dicta carries news on telegraphic monosyllables
bearing clues of what darkness awaits within the crater
they now know (the caboose does) before they can see it
what to expect
it's the worst
but instead he turns out upon touch not quite dead
not quite yet
& the mystery is lessened
& his death becomes a legend
because it doesn't happen
not then, at least
it is the corpse that wouldn't quit, still shocked
P: we are witnessing one man's personal ragnarok
nobody in particular thought
but it was around, floating
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