Why America is the greatest nation on Earth. Truth delivered by an unbiased immigrant.
Fuck yea.
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Rosemary
Rosemary
What did you find
At the end of the sea
Was it the same
As the start
From whence we came
Destroy your heart
Rosemary
Rosemary
Drop a leaf
Change by degree
Seasons teeth
Masticate
Matters dull
Spirit liberate
From the lull
Rosemary
Rosemary
Awake by scent
By degree
The arrows bent
Forever be
My dancing blossom Rosemary
Delight’s thy bosom
Drain Nepenthe
To the source
Dregs to thee
Bitter sacred sweet set the course
For we’ve the dawn to meet
O Rose
O Rosa
O Rosa Marie
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I get tired of explaining myself
To myself
By myself
In a neverending plot
Of funhouse mirrors
The you in me
Is I
You see
The more I try
To look outside
I observe myself walk by
There is nowhere to hide
From this mystery, this curse, called I
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There was a sensation of whirling, of spinning headlong blindly through ether. It felt like eternities had passed between the clap and the first glimmers of some strange purplish light.
“Holy shit it’s laser Floyd!” Jim exclaimed facetiously.
“Are you familiar with physics?” Germain inquired.
He could hear the question but see nothing besides darkness, and the strange hazy purple glow.
“Are you familiar with physics?” Germain repeated.
“Apparently not. Unless ya drugged me.”
“There’s no need to force the lock if you’ve got a key.”
“Maybe so…”
“Just so.”
“Uhuh, and uh what the hell door did we just step through here?”
“I guess I should get more specific. Are you familiar with circuits?”
“Sure, I’ve wired a house before.”
“There are countless electromagnetic impulses. That is the universe and its operation. It is one vast eternal brain folded densely to infinity. With time and patience, one can learn to prune this synaptic garden that blossoms in perfect holy Chaos.”
“If it’s so holy…than how come you’re prunin’ it? Isn’t that kinda cocky?”
“The root of chaos is in the seeking of order. Its worship is thus inevitable. Whether I call it holy or damned it will birth and be praised by every principality.”
“So God is chaos?”
“To the untrained God is such an absurdly vast chain of causality, such a solipsistic, self-referential thing; that had religion not risen to facilitate communion, to distill the essence of the unfathomable, only angels would approach understanding.”
“That’s a pretty big word salad you served up to such a simple question.”
“What you are seeing now, is how these mountains draw and transmit celestial light from distant stars. Their pulsing is sentient and wishes to add flesh to its nerves. Seeks this with such zeal that it will have any form. Because the El are divided, it manifests as troops of grey monstrosities chittering the discord that binds them to the ground bass of the errant heart of the fallen.”
“Gnarly.”
“I am talking about a current. They will it one way. It is our duty to will it aright. You, young fool, are merely a very specific transistor that has unfortunately become indispensable to rewiring the aeon.”
Jim wasn’t really sure what all that meant.
“You see, some Angels would prefer that only they would approach understanding.”
“You’re talkin’ bout some cosmic country club?”
The old man chuckled.
“And you want me to crash their Thursday night social?”
“Yes!”
“How?”
“Go to the caves.”
There was another clap. The world returned. Everyone was in the exact same spot, making the same exact motion, as when Jim had slipped into the dark following the first.
It seemed that the old man and he, had just had a private conversation in some secret room.
“What was that purple light?”
“Well, it’s usually more blue round here, there’s no name for it really…but I’ve always called it ‘transcendental electricity.’ We all have it. We are all particles in its waveforms. As individuals and as nations…But of course the El have a stronger current…so its dramatically visible in etheric space. And even in the earth…as I’ve said…it is blue…I believe you’ve seen it. And you will…you must see it again. Go to the caves.”
“Hell no. I’m not getting my city slicker ass stuck in some hillbilly crawlspace.”
“There is no danger for you. Your blood knows the way.”
Jim shook his head.
“Don’t you want to crash the party?”
This time he cocked his head and smirked at the prospect of some good Yuppie thwartin’ possibilities. But he did not relish the idea of dying in some pitch black hole no man was meant to spelunk. Much less a tenderfooted one like him.
The old man held his gaze for a spell and then turned to stare at the fire.
Jim, a few drinks past the limit of self consciousness shifted his attention to Elsa.
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Reacting
It’s because
God’s redacting
The impulses laws
The breathe of life
Can’t be seen
Neither willed with pentacle or even the knife
Search with your microscope for how all this has been
Seek with the telescope
Reach for the source
Till the point that straining breaks conscience rope
You’ll find the answer is to keep reacting…of course
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Jim was stuck again by the shift in atmosphere. With all these bodies luxuriating by the firelight it was indeed downright homey. The warmth was pleasant.
But it was also naseuting. Jim did not trust these fine feelings. He did not want comradarie with these soft strangers.
“I’ve heard you call these things the El more than once. What is that…?”
“It is an emanation of the Most High or rather an echo. Whose seal is Saturn.”
“I thought they were from Saggitarius.”
“The manifestation on this plane is mediated through the sixth planet from the sun.”
“Huh?”
“What do you suppose it means to be cast down?”
“Uh…”
“Which fate is grimmest for an angel?”
Jim rolled his eyes.
“To be clothed in limit. Girded in restricting loins of flesh. Mind you it is possible to be immeasurably powerful despite such division. They are clever and it was they that taught us to forge the rawness of the earth into sword and iron.”
“So gremlins…are aliens…who are angels….because….reasons?”
The old man chuckled hollowly.
It did make a certain sense. All these various takes on a single phenomenon. Strange little introductions in a history that only appeared in snippets to the attentive. But so what? That’s the thing that Jim didn’t undestand. That he never understood about all this religious sort of stuff. So what?
Fine people perished along with the wicked. And of what consequence is it that they dwelt in grand eternities?
Of what consequence is a principilaity of imps in a thing like eternity? A thing that nullifies. Time the great healer, the great eraser, stretched limitless across the canvas of forever…whatever its mechanism…so what?
“Just be mindful that they don’t entrace you. There is cause. I see their poison dancing in your eyes.”
Jim gulped. He was still indeed between worlds.
“Can’t knock me down.” He insisted.
“At this late hour, they are a part of us all.”
“I have no parts.”
Elsa giggled.
“You are as fragmented as a mosaic. This is the lot of man. To gahter himself tile by tile, till he beholds his place in the firmament, and his connexion to the Godhead.”
“Right on man.” Jim mocked.
“Listen boy, it is at great cost that I and those here assembled have gathered enough of ourselves to see you through.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. As they seperate the spirit from the flesh so must you seperate their flesh from their spirit. They must not be allowed to cross the threshold as corporeal till the appointed season.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to. No one expects a rotten tapestery to herald truth. You must follow for each faithful step will be be rewarded by increased sight.”
With this the adept clapped his hands and the cottage went dark.
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Jim could barely sit up. There had been gravy….with a side of gravy…dipped in venison and lard. He had to go outside with a mug of coffee to keep from falling asleep. The cool evening and the swaying trees were bracing. And each sip of the bold black liquid helped restore his verve.
Elsa and Germain were in the center of the meadow. The elder was gesturing heavenward with his arms in a slow methodical sort of way. Though he couldn’t hear them and they were blanketed in darkness Jim thought he saw Elsa nodding along.
His curiosity sufficiently peaked, he set off in their direction. The odd pair were further than he had guessed, and he was winded by the time he reached them. Neither turned as the old man continued pointing and speaking in a low accented voice.
Elsa was indeed nodding along as she asked questions in what Jim guessed to be French. Now that he was close he followed the elder’s pointing up to the target.
A chill ran down his spine.
It was the very same cluster of stars he’d seen that night he got paralyzed on the granite. Though he didn’t know the name he’d remembered his boyhood visits to the cottage. Visits where Hant would point at this ‘the archer’ the ‘town hall of the galaxy.’
Jim was frightfully curious now. Both as to why everybody was so fixated with this southern cluster and as to how exactly Elsa had gotten that wheelchair so far over all this thick tall grass.
“Stargazing?” He inquired.
She turned round lightly and blew him a kiss. “Yes, izn’t eet wanderful!”
“Meh, I guess,” Jim responded. “But, if I’m being completely honest I’ve kinda had it with stars out here. There’s too many and they seem too bright, too close. It’s like being stuck up heaven’s asshole.”
Elsa laughed good-naturedly.
German could not turn his wheelchair and opted to instead mutter something in French.
“I thought you were a kraut broad?”
“Dee French border iz not far frohm Hesse.”
“Don’t you Eurodorks know that the only language worth talkin’ is God’s own English.”
Elsa stuck out her tongue.
“I can speak the language of dogs perfectly.” The oldster retorted in cut-glass poshness. “I’d simply prefer not to contort such a noble instrument as the human tongue into such barbaric positions.”
“Another feisty Boomer?” Jim rolled his eyes.
“No, you arrogant little Anglo fool, I may well have sired your grandfather.”
“…uh…so we’re related?”
Elsa laughed. “Nein, at least I don’t dink so…” she said turning Germain’s chair to face them. “The doktor has been leeving very long and is very wize. You must heer heem. He will helf you.”
“Ok, so what’s up with these stars Doc? Hant was crazy about ’em.”
Germain nodded. “That is Saggitarius.”
“Afraid I don’t take much stock in that astrology shit.”
“This is astronomy you mealy-brained Paddy. Astronomy that will be your undoing unless you learn it.”
“Rather be a Mick than a Frog.”
Elsa shook her head.
“I’m about to let you on something that won’t be revealed for several decades. I have every right to tease you.”
“Fine by me, so long as I get to tease back.”
The elder ignored this repartee.
“Saggitarius is located near the center of our galaxy. Near the border of Saggitarius and Scorpius there is a black hole.”
“Ok. That’s pretty sci-fi.”
“The cliche is true. Fact is stranger than fiction. This currently theoretical construct is the highway by which your little friends travel. Or rather the mechanism…”
“Neat, so how does all this work and uh…more importantly what the fuck are they…?”
“That is a very long story and I am very cold. So we’ll have to continue this indoors.”
Elsa got behind the wheelchair-bound elder and began to push him effortlessly over the uneven ground.
Jim grabbed the back of the chair. “Hold on. How the hell…”
“Elsa get this baboon off my damned throne.”
He was completely disarmed by the sensation of soft fingers tickling his kneck and warm whispers caressing his ears. “Heel tell you soon…just letuz got noaw.”
“I’ll tell him now!” The old man exploded. “You have to dumb things down for his lot so it won’t take long. It’s coated in a polymer…o wait that’s a bit too difficult…I’m sorry….it’s magic WD-40!”
“See, that’s all I wanted.” Jim responded.
“Yes, now that this bog breathing alleycats base curiosity is sated CAN WE PLEASE GO INSIDE..”
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The fire was already blazing. Its warmth and the presence of people gave the austere cottage a homey feel. Jim was surprised by the party that had gathered. There were four guests. Which to his accustomed isolation qualified as a crowd.
Elsa was stoking the flame in front of the wheelchair bound cipher he’d glimpsed the other evening. The elder was as still and silent as before. Jim was annoyed by the familiarity with which Luckadoo folded his unwieldy frame into a recliner as Lizzy disappeared into the kitchen.
“So, should I get used to surprise parties?” He queried ruefully.
“You’re gonna start to miss us real soon.” Jonas replied.
“I’ve never been much of a social butterfly…”
“Good news is that you can go back to being an introvert. Since, we’re going to be leaving the valley in a matter of days. The bad news is you’re going to continue to have company.”
“As long as they knock…I’m not bothered.”
Jonas gave a low chuckle.
“I think you already know that your new friends aren’t much accustomed to such niceties.”
Jim was tempted to make a joke at Lizzy’s expense but he was cut off by the unpleasant recollection of those eyes.
There was a brief moment of uneasy silence. It felt like Jonas was letting the fear set in.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna get myself a drink.”
Luckadoo spread his arms in an expansive motion. It was annoying. Jim got the impression that he was being invited to his own home. He crossed the floor to the mantel with as masterful an air as he could muster and poured a tumbler full of Johnny Walker Red.
Plopping on the couch he shot his legs up on the coffee table. “So, ya got somethin’ to tell me?”
Jonas nodded.
“Well…?”
“I’m almost certain you’re hungry.”
It was true. Jim was hungry. It kept him from exploding in rage at the commandeering of his kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” Luckadoo grinned wryly. “Lizzy’s portions are heartier than Charlotte’s.”
“Well, good.” Was the pithy reply as Jim downed the whiskey and poured himself a second in a single motion.
In his efforts to establish dominance he hadn’t noticed that Elsa and the old man had taken their leave.
“So, who’s the old timer?”
Jonas exhaled smoke and allowed for a moment of silence.
“He’s an uncle of mine. Though I’m not sure he’s actually blood. His name is Germain and he is a Norman.”
“Ok…”
“I think that you’re going to be very interested in what he has to say.”
“He doesn’t seem to have very much to say at all.”
Jonas laughed. “As far as I understood that’s a habit he’s had since youth. He’s always been taciturn. It’s part of the reason you’re going to find his speech especially useful. Germain focuses most of his energies on inner work and thus is quite the adept at dealing with the El.”
“Now when you say the El…you mean those goblin things?”
“Yes…after a manner…that is to say…they are a manifestation of the El.”
“Uh…huh…” Jim’s eyes glazed over.
Jonas decided not to dignify that particular bit of snark with a response.
“So…since everybody and their uncle seems to know so much more about all this weird ass voodoo bullshit how come it’s all my fuckin’ responsibility.”
“You are bound by blood.”
“Well, that’s not very fucking fair is it. Had no part in any of these shenanigans.”
“If you understood it…which I’m hoping you very shortly will…you’d realize that it was indeed fair. You didn’t spring out of a vacuum Jimmy boy, none of this did.” The giant said outsretching his arms again to indicate the world.
“Ok…”
But, Jim didn’t have time for a witty repartee as Lizzy’s piercing voice penetrated every wall of the cottage. “Dinners reddy…kom n git it!”
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It took awhile for Jim to regain his senses. The dusk had settled. There was nothing left to do but head for shelter. The thought that terrified him most was that anything was possible.
He kept feeling himself pulled along by strange tides. All those insane suggestions he’d just drunk from a firehose, were threatening to hypnotize him, to leave him tethered gawking and exposed in the strange wilderness.
It was odd how quickly the pleasure of the mountains turned to terror. The fear that Jim felt was not corporeal. Bodily harm was the least of his troubles.
The thing that worried him was that there was no safety. There were no absolutes. The only reality was flux, self-referential, unoriginate, and eternal. He bit his lip.
This steadied him somewhat. Awareness shifted from yawning abysses to the delightfully familiar cicada song. The approaching evening was cool. The change in temperature helped orient him to reality and he trudged homeward.
Something seemed amiss upon approach. Caution seeped into his limbs as the anomaly was slowly drawn from his subconscious.
The door was slightly ajar. All traces of wonder vanished in an instant as the sobering caution of self-preservation took hold. Jim’s footfalls became stealthy as his ears grew keen.
While memory proved foggy the probability that he’d left the cottage permeable was low. The reptile brain had complete mastery now, and he treated the situation like one of his burglaries. Flanking the wall, he soon found his suspicion well founded.
Audible but unintelligible, faint traces of conversation reached his ears. There was also an odor. A familiar odor. The odor of a peculiar cigar.
Broad footfalls resounded as the door swung inward and a giant with a hot cherry emerged.
“For Gods sake, boy, would you get inside. You just walked across several thousand yards of open meadow. And now you think you’re Seal Team Ten.”
The voice was as unmistakable as the commanding height from which it came.
The sardonic profile of Jonas Luckadoo was revealed by the waxing glow of a cigar puff. Jim was too astonished to speak.
But not for long.
Annoyance found his tongue for him. “How the hell did ya get in my house?”
“Is that any way to greet a friend?”
“Friends don’t usually break into friend’s houses.”
Jim shook his head and grimaced his displeasure with the banter.
Just as he was about to speak another body, comically small in contrast to that of Luckadoo, energetically crossed the threshold.
“If it isn’t the fool.” Came another unmistakable voice.
Lizzy seemed to have made a full recovery. He could feel the strange wizened energy that radiated from the crane-necked crone even at a distance.
“To what do I owe this displeasure?” Jim inquired as he realized how Luckadoo had gained access to the cottage.
“We thought you could use some company.”
“Couldn’t you wait on the porch like normal people?”
“This is my house.” Lizzy answered defiantly.
“Then how come I live here?”
“Cause you got the blood. But I’m tellin’ ya, I got the deed.”
“Well, there does seem to be a reason I’m here. So as far as I see it I live here. And while I live here I’d appreciate it if you didn’t just traipse through my living room.”
“Don’t you have questions?”
“Yeah…I already asked them.”
“So, you want to know why we’re here?”
Jim nodded.
“After all that you’ve seen, the question you have to ask is why your friends popped round? You’re an odd sort aren’t you?”
Jim nodded again.
“Well, I just don kir whether you’re curious or not. Fools gotta be forcefed at times.” Lizzy said as she shot down the stairs and dragged Jim inside by the ear.
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So, I was just considering finishing a vlog and posting it. But, I realized it’s late and I have not been getting adequate rest. So, I asked myself: How good is this vlog going to be? Sure, I feel the creative juices surging RIGHT NOW but how much of that is fatigue induced illusion? I’ve already posted today and some distance and reflection would probably be a good idea…
Furthermore, don’t I know better? Haven’t I spent hours reading health blogs, books, and listening to podcasts about sleep?
Sure, there is that old writers trick of staying awake in order to slay inhibitions. But, as someone who also works a rather gruelling day job is that really wise?
And, finally I concluded. Hey, your goal is consistent content, consistent creative effort, and learning new things. That means you need to know when you have energy and when you have time. These things don’t very easily come to those who do things simply when inspiration strikes. Furthermore these things DEMAND sleep in order to be fully digested and utilized.
So, while there is the nagging desire to DO MORE RIGHT NOW to really MARATHON IT; there is also the sobering knowledge that doing more means you have to do it smarter.
I hope this helps folks with similar itches.
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