MJCwriting.htm

 

     

Moshe Frank steps up to the painting and reads the text: "Who are they anyway?  The ones who move in to intimidate the clowns with their frowns?  Those who inhabit trellises and trees; hoping to scare the birds with their share of the grief?  Those who inhabit the circular dream, hoping to establish themselves as keepers of the drowned reef?  Moments come and moments go; the shadowmen come, black and shimmery, believing that the dark age approaches; and that the blackfaces rule with the white woman, the blonde woman, the moon, during this nighttime; the culture coven.  So they plan their revenge, the revenge of a god, on the white man.  And also on the dark woman, the earth.  For there is ever conflict between the white man, the sun, and the black man, the shadow man, and between the blonde woman, the moon, and the dark woman, the earth.  The sun rules the day; and the moon rules the night."

      "It is interesting to me," Columbo breaks in, "that this mechanism herein described, in fact, disputes claims to racism.  The alliances are inter-racial.  The white man and the black woman are natural mates; and the black man and the white woman are natural mates.  This implies racial intermarriage is the plan of God.  Clearly the extreme interpretations of both white racists and black racists, calling for racial segregation, separation, is imputed by this mechanism..."

      "On the surface that is true," Oprah responds.  "But you see, the conclusion is that the white race still rules everything.  The white man, the sun, rules the day; and the white woman, the moon, rules the night...."

      "Interesting," Columbo replies.  "On the surface of things.  But I think the mechanism is this: the white man, in passing through the earth, the black woman, becomes, himself, blackened, material; the black man, in passing through the moon, the white woman, becomes, himself, whitened, purified, anti-material.  Such, the soul is recycled for ever, between the poles of white and black, between the poles of anti-matter and matter.  Skin color is merely an illusion.  White into black and black into white -- and everything in between.  Whiteblack into blackwhite.  Blackwhite into whiteblack.  Crossmann is not really a racist.  He is a spokesman for interracial marriage.  This painting is proof of that.  It also proves the betrayal of men and women along strictly racial lines.  The white man and the white women will betray one another; and the black man and the black woman will betray one another.  If this 'natural theory' is, in fact, true -- which is a whole other issue..."

      "Well, we've certainly looked pretty significantly at this painting," Hedda says.  "I'd like to move on the the next painting if we agree.  Charlie, I'm surprised tht you have said nothing about this painting.  How does this work fit into the biographical interpretation....?"

      "Well, I think everyone else here explained it for me," Rose says.  "This is a metaphysical world view that illuminated Michael Crossmann's view of the world.  This mechanism, as Peter described it, puts the broken pieces back into a whole.  We can argue about what it means, like we have -- but we must agree that the fractionated picture, the polarized dualism, is resolved, through this mechanism, back into a metaphysical or philosophical whole, a circle, tranforming alienation.  Crossmann was a white man who hated white men, who hated his father, who judged his father immoral, guilty of racism, murder.  He was alienated from America.  He hated his own country, his own father, because it was not on the good side.  But when he went into the underworld, gaining this vision from the gods, from the darkness, the Wisdom Gods, he learned to forgive his father, his country.  The picture is, as Peter Falk described it so brilliantly, beyond morality.  There is One Life within many forms of life.  No one is for ever moral.  Each side is good and bad; ultimately, each side is the same, two poles of the same unity.  This knowledge allowed Crossmann to forgive his father, his family -- to, essentially, come back home.  To defend his country, even if imperfect.  Like Odysseus in Ulysses, Crossmann came back home; he ended his alienation by , in a figurative sense, eating from the Tree of Life -- having earlier eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil..."

      "There are a lot of ideas bouncing around here tonight," Hedda says.  "Are we solving anything?  Mister Lyons, are we solving whether Crossmann is post-modernist or a post-post-modernist...?"

      "I think we are, inch-by-inch," Reggie Lyons responds.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, speaking again in the Russian woman's voice: "We know what elements compose the earth; we know that Air is composed of gases including Oxygen and Nitrogen; and we know that Water is compmosed of Hydrogen and Oxygen.  But we don't know the essential components of Fire.  We know that one glass of water will not fill up every glass on the earth; water is finite.  But one flame can light every candle in the universe without being reduced in quantity.  Fire is extinguishable; can become visible and invisible instantly.  But fire, itself, as a quantity, is inexhaustible..."

 

 

      "The next painting, the Eighteenth, the mid-point in our show, is a primordial piece in colored pencil, called the 'Night Warrior'.  Charlie, do you have a theory on this...?"

      "The soul is re-born as a warrior," Charlie replies.  "Brahma is the first-born.  He is a warrior, akin to Mars.  He is born from the Moon, in the Night, by the so-called Lunar Lords who are tribal by nature.  Crossmann becomes a Night Warrior.  Crossmann is dark, is in the Anti-Universe, is given birth by the Moon, as the Father Principal, the bringer of Law..."

 

 

                       

     

                                                NIGHT-WARRIOR

 

"We have here, again, a very aboriginal drawing," Richard Baker begins.  'You will notice here, also, that this Night Warrior has a penis.  We remember back to 'Castor and Pollux', the twins of Day and Night, that Pollux has a penis and Castor, the Night Twin, does not.  This Night Warrior, in fact, forms the connecting link between Castor and Pollux.  We can look at this Night Warrior as being the last stage of Castor or the first stage of Pollux, both of which are true -- and, in this, we see the unified nature of Castor and Pollux -- Callus, if you will; or Pollster -- as we see the unified nature of the White Man and the Black Man, the Night Warrior being the missing link, in a sense..."

      "Why this obsession with the penis?" Gloria Steinem asks.  "Why this obsession with a body part?  Is it fear, insecurity, that makes the men in this room constantly celebrate when a penis appears in a painting.  This is a form of abuse of women, of course.  Singing the glory of the penis is also singing the death of the vagina, the death of feminism.  We aren't blind.  We know how this works.  I come from the 'down there' generation. That is, those were the words -- spoken rarely and in a hushed voice -- that the women in my family used to refer to all female genitalia, internal or external. It wasn't that they were ignorant of terms like vagina, labia, vulva, or clitoris. On the contrary, they were trained to be teachers and probably had more access to information than most...."

      "Really, we are discussing symbolism here?" Richard Baker replies.  "The mention of the word 'penis' makes some women angry.  The appearance of a penis in a painting makes some women uncomfortable.  What does that tell us...?"

      "If the celebration of the penis," Moshe Frank responds, "is anti-woman -- then is not the celebration of the vagina also, logically, anti-man....?"

      "Castrato?" Gloria replies.  "Are you calling me a castrator...?"

      "Hateful bag," Camilla Paglia directs a lance at Gloria Steinem.

      "Cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt!" Glenn Close cries.

      Brook Shields dances across the floor, holding a three-foot vibrator over her head.

      Oprah Winfrey, Queen Latifah and Jane Fonda interlock arms and sway together, each throwing up their skirts in unison, showing the audience that they are wearing no underwear.

      The Mayor's wife re-appears, this time wearing the Magician's magic glasses.  She cries: "Vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina, vagina....!"

      Gloria cries: ""It's ten o'clock at night -- Do you know where your clitoris is...?"

      "Self-indulgent bitch!" Camilla Paglia replies to Gloria, putting her arm around her boy-friend, the body mechanic.

      "By the time feminists were putting CUNT POWER! on buttons and T-shirts," Steinem cries, "as a way of reclaiming that devalued word, I could recognize the restoration of an ancient power. After all, the Indo-European word 'cunt' was derived from the goddess Kali's title of Kunda or Cunti, and shares the same root as kin and country. These last three decades of feminism were also marked by a deep anger as the truth of violence against the female body was revealed, whether it took the form of rape, childhood sexual abuse, anti-lesbian violence, physical abuse of women, sexual harassment, terrorism against reproductive freedom, or the international crime of female genital mutilation. Women's sanity was saved by bringing these hidden experiences into the open, naming them, and turning our rage into positive action to reduce and heal violence...."

      Rosie Perez appears.  She addresses the audience:

      "I love my clitoris. I just appreciate its clitoral nature. There aren't really any qualities that I am aware of that make a clitoris better or worse. They are not supposed to be a certain colour or size or sensitivity; they are just good. I like that.  I say clitoris like 'KLIT-o-riss,' although I know people who say 'kli-TOR-iss.'  My way seems easier to say (to me) but I don't know whether either way is the decided right way to pronounce the word.  I mostly use the whole word, but sometimes say 'clit,' especially when referring to piercings.  'Clit' seems hipper, but it is hard to sound uptight when willing to refer to a clitoris in the first place. I think I just like the "lit" syllable, despite the fact that with the exception of lit itself, most -lit words have weird sexual connotations (clit, slit, split...).  Lately I've been finding out all kinds of clitoral anatomy, just by accident. Junior high school sex education taught me where my clitoris was (the top structure between my labia, with a little hood of pink skin over it), but only made reference to it being a small, highly sensitive nub of flesh.  While reading about masturbation using vaginal muscles in an old Germaine Greer article in The Madwoman's Underclothes, I discovered that the clitoris has an extensive internal shaft that is something like 7cm (about 3 inches) long. More recently, while flipping through a book on g-spots, I found a diagram showing this internal part of the clitoris as forked. Forked! Apparently it straddles the urethral sponge tissue, which swells during arousal.  As far as I know, the whole clitoris is erectile, and swells up when it is aroused. I very much like the fact that my clitoris has a head and a tiny little shaft. I have never really looked and checked this out, but the idea of such a wee thing having a shaft makes me laugh..."

      Calista Flockhart appears wearing a very short yellow skirt. 

      Johny Carson is in the audience.  He takes a long look at Calista, frolicking in her temptress garb.

      Carson says: "That skirt is so short I can see....all the way to Needles; all the way to Muddy Gap; all the way to Crescent City; all the way to Sweetwater; all the way to Sugar Creek; all the way to Beaver Falls; all the way to....Sinclair..."

      Ed McMahon tries to get Johnny to stop talking by covering his mouth.

      Johnny punches Ed in the stomach, dropping him like a bag of dirt; Johnny Carson turns back to Calista.

      But Calista now has pulled her skirt up over her waist, exposing skinny white hips with a bushy brunette triangle -- Johnny Carson stares at the magic spot like a boy watching an ice-cream truck approach, his mouth half-open in disbelief.

      "Clit!  Clit!  Clit!" the chorust begins to shout.  Then: "My vagina is angry!  And it's not going to take it any more!  My vagina is angry...."

      "Because it has been raped!" Oprah cries.

      "Because it has been abused as a child!" Jane Fonda cries.

      "Because it has been forced into silence and abstinance!" Patricia Ireland cries.  "Or it has been called a whore!"

      "Because tampons aren't lubricated!" Queen Latifah cries.

      "Because it's thought of as a sperm bank and not a personality!" Rosie Perez cries.

      "Because it has been mutilated by old men and women with sharp rocks!" Alice Walker cries.

      "Because it has been lynched, lynched, over and over again!" Gloria cries out.  "It is the slave and the cock is the slave-driver...!"

      "My vagina is angry!" the chorus cries again.

      "We will have our vengeance!" Glenn Close cries out. 

      "We will make them pay!" Oprah cries out.

      "We are the goddess and men are next to nothing!" Gloria cries.

      "Dildo, Dido, dildo, Dido!" the chorus begins to shout.  "Clit Notes, dildo, Clit Notes, dildo...!"

      Gloria pulls a pair of scissors from her handbag and moves toward the 'Night-Warrior' painting.

      "I will cut it off!" she cries.  "I will bring justice to the world!  I will cut that damn thing off...!"

      Lola Fanti stops Gloria in her tracks, taking her down on the floor with a swift karate move, disarming her.

      "Potiphar, Potiphar!  Thelma, Thelma! Lorena Bobbitt!  Lorena, Lorena, Lorena...!"

      Lola nods to the security force.  They spring into action, rounding up the angry women not wearing underpants. They move about the room, lifting the skirts all all the women.  Those not wearing panties are taken into custody.

      Crossmann watches closely while one of the security guards checks to see if Dana Scully is wearing panties.  Her thighs are creamy.  She blushes a bit when she sees that he is watching her.  Her panties are a delicate light green chiffon with dark green markings on the side -- they are transparent. 

      Lola has Gloria in a half-Nelson; she is forcing her through the museum, through the crowd of people, down into the basement.  The other women are also lead into the basement.

      "We shall overcome!" Gloria yells back to the audience.

      Some people applaud -- supporters who are apparently wearing undepants.  Gillian Anderson is applauding.  It's like she wishes she had not worn any panties.  The thought excites Michael Crossmann.

      The young woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume calls out to no one:  "Where is Andy Warhol now!  I must find Andy Warhol...!" 

      Then she wanders away again.

 

"Well," Hedda says.  "It is Millenium Eve -- so I guess nothing should surprise us tonight."

      "Simply put," Reggie Lyons begins, "the lesson in the shift from a modernist to a postmodernist attitude is that advocacy of creativity as such is uncritical and naive, even dangerous to mental health. Creativity is not significant in itself, at least no more than any other innate potential, but only insofar as it serves a critical purpose. In therapeutic terms, therapy has to develop critical consciousness in the patient, not release the patientÕs innate creativity. Creativity can inhibit critical consciousness, especially when creativity is celebrated as the be-all and end-all of life. It is a false salvation, unlike critical consciousness, which is not innate but has to be learned, for it is reason at its most dialectically cunning...."

      There is a stunned silence.

      "Tell us more about the penis," Catherine Zeta-Jones says, smiling at Michael Crossmann.

      Crossmann replies: "The outer foreskin layer is a continuation of the skin of the shaft of the penis.  The inner foreskin layer is not properly `skin', but mucocutaneous tissue of a unique type found nowhere else on the body.  The frenar band is the interface (join) between the outer and inner foreskin layers. When the penis is not erect, it tightens to narrow the foreskin opening. During erection, the frenar band forms a ridge that goes all the way around, about halfway down the shaft.  The reddish or purplish glans or glans penis (head of the penis) is smooth, shiny, moist and extremely sensitive.  The frenulum, or frenum, is a connecting membrane on the underside of the penis, similar to that beneath the tongue..."

      Robert Bly, the poet, begins to chant: "Cock, cock, cock!'

      Other men pick up the chant.  Warren Beatty, Bill Clinton, Wilt Chamberlain, David Lee Roth. 

      "Cock, cock, cock!" they chant.

      Bill Clinton chants "coke" by mistake, but catches himself.  He looks around: no one heard him.  Except maybe Columbo, who is still standing near the president, watching him with a cocked eye.

      Mick Jagger, Charlie Rose, Donald Trump join in: "Cock, dick, prick, wang!  Dip stick, ramrod, butt-tickler, sword...!"

      Jagger sings a solo, in his languid British accent: "Long swinging dusty testacle scrotum swings and sways...."

      "Now, doesn't that make you all feel better to be men!" Robert Bly cries out.  "More communicative?  Come on, everyone -- women too.  Pecker, slammer, jack-hammer, cone...!"

      Norman Mailer, Rod Steiger, Al Lewis cry out: "My cock is angry!  Someone's going to pay!"

      "Gentlemen!  Gentlemen!  This is inappropriate!" Hedda cries.

      The men all begin to laugh.

      Crossmann, too, is laughing.

      "Is this a locker-room or a gallery!" Hedda proclaims.  "Please!  Let us controll ourselves!  Let us be civilized...!"

      Crossmann notices, across the room, Mayor Guiliani and Reverend Farrakahn comparing their penises, pointing at their scrotums, talking animatedly about health issues....

     

"The penis is, in this sense," Moshe Frank replies, smiling at Catherine Zeta-Jones, "symbolic of the male principle.  Light.  Day.  Power.  Fertility.  Wealth.  The reign of chaotic darkness -- the Dark Ages -- represented by the Womb, the Night, Infertility, Poverty -- this reign comes to an end.  In some mythologies, the erect penis raises the tent of the sky, allowing the elements to separate and create the world again.  The Indian teepee was a symbol of this erect penis raising the sky...."

      "We must remember that Crossmann," Charlie Rose begins, "in his book, clearly has gone through the wisdom, celibate stage, his Night, during which he turns his back on women -- his 'castrated' phase -- does not fertilize the Earth.  This period is the Winter of existence.  But during this Night, the mythology of the warrior returns to him.   He is warned that he must get ready for war.  Hence, he returns to defend his country from invasion by a foreign power.  This painting is about that re-awkening of the male energy, the energy of Mars, in the deep part of night.  The two forces, adversarial forces, will meet at the dawn to fight to see who will regain heaven..."

      "Is the artist idealizing war?" Dana Skully asks.

      "He is portraying reality," Richard Baker replies.  "He is portraying a mythological reality, a world of Truth that lies deeper in the soul than the surface realm of morality..."

      "Many of us believe that the level of morality is the deepest level," Fox Mulder responds.

      "It is the deepest level in the mortal world," Moshe Frank replies.  "But it is not the deepest level.  Remember, Crossmann is in the primitive world, in the world of the aborigine..."

      "Mister Crossmann," Dana Skully insists.  "Do you, in this painting, and in your novel, idealize war -- rather than the brotherhood of men...?"

      "My art portrays levels of reality," Crossmann says.  "All levels and spheres of reality."

      "Is your art amoral?" she asks. 

      "No, it is not amoral," Crossmann replies.  "It is moral -- it has a perspective in Time.  There is a time when war is moral, believe it or not.  We live in a very safe time now.  We think that war is evil.  But the struggle for survival is not immoral.  A response to a physical threat is, in fact, moral.  The threat of war is always very real.  We pretend it is not.  That is a very modern 'moral' response.  But human history has rarely endured without conflict between individuals, families or nations.  We should not delude ourselves into believing that Peace is the natural state of nature.  There is a continual state of warfare in nature to see who will eat and who will be eaten.  This state is not so different that the state of men or even the state of angels.  It is nice to think that everyone gets along.  But this view is a form of intoxication.  This painting is very sober -- it is about a sober realization.  The war against the Nazis was a moral war.  And the war against communism, no matter that our generation may have idealized communism -- this too, was a moral war..."

        "So, we are always on the right side?" Skully asks

      "Everyone believes they are on the right side," Crossmann says.  "That is the great illusion.  That is the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.  Life demands allegiance to itself.  There is a deeper level than morality.  The middle principle, who defeats each extreme, who is all things at once, that is the element which is closest to the truth..."

      Dana Skully sighs, frustrated.

      "Your skin is very lovely tonight, by the way," Crossmann adds.  "I would love to paint you some time..."

      "Sexist!" the woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume says under her breath, pushing past Donald Trump.  "Fucking sexist!  Fascist...!"

      "Is she talking to me?" the Donald asks, defiant.

      "No, she's talking to Lola Fanti, I think," the Donald's wife responds.  "She's still mad at the way Lola is policing the museum..."

      "Thank you," Dana Skully says to Crossmann.  "I'd like that...."

      "Fucking traitor!" the downy duck says under her breath as she slinks past Skully.

      "Excuse me!" Skully replies to the duck.

      "Learn some fucking manners!" Mulder snaps back at her, pulling the psychedelic fur around her neck for a moment, then letting go.

      "Fuck wad," the duck reponds, pulling the fur back around her neck.  "Alien-fucker...!"

      "Let's move on," Hedda says.  "And I would like to ask everyone to please consider your language.  We are not a football crowd.  I would like to ask that everyone comport themselves with decency and decorum.  We are the greatest people in our society, the most sophisticated, the most educated.  I do not understand this need to stoop to the gutter in order to have fun.  Put a needle in your lip if you can't avoid profanity -- that's what my mother used to teach me..."   

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann again, speaking in the voice of the old Russian woman: "No Spirits except the Lipika, the Recorders, has ever crossed its forbidden line -- the circle, the ring pass not -- nor will any do so until the day of the next Pralaya, or Night, or Period of Rest -- for it is the boundary which separates the finite -- however infinite it appears in man's sight -- from the truly Infinite.  The Spirit referred to, therefore, as 'those who ascend and descend' are the 'Hosts' of what we loosely call 'Celestial Beings'.  But they are, in fact, nothing of the kind.  They are 'Entities' of the Higher Worlds in the hierarchy of Being so immeasurably high that, to us, they must appear as Gods, and, collectively, God.  To the highest order, we are taught, belong the Seven Orders of the purely divine Spirits; to the six lower ones belong hierarchies who can occasionally be seen and heard by men and who do communicate with their progeny of the Earth; which progeny is indissolubly linked with them, each principle in man having its direct source in the nature of those great Beings, who furnish us with the respective invisible elements in us. Your experience with Michael the Archangel, and with Michael's warrior, Metatron, is, thus, explained..."

      Hedda continues: "Very well -- on to number Nineteen, a collage entitled 'The Birth of America'.  Charlie, what do we see here...?"

 

 

                       

     

                                                THE BIRTH OF AMERICA

 

"Well, thematically," Charlie Rose replies, "we see quite clearly Crossmann's rediscovery of love for himself.  He has passed into death, into the mystical side of life, the female side, darkness -- the self-judgmental, the self-hating.  And, in this darkness, from out of this negativity, positivity has been born.  Love for the self is, of course, also love for one's own tribe, one's own country.  The tribal consciousness is the first-born male.  The form of this drawing is, to my mind, very feminine.  I see a very clear....I hesitate to say the word.  I'm afraid I might cause some kind of paroxysm.  But the shape is very clearly a vagina, an open vagina, which has given birth to something, to America is one real sense.  Of course, we see the Mayflower sailing on the outside of the labia, on our right...."

      "Note the female figure at the bottom right," Richard Baker comes in.  "The spinner of the fates, who is spinning a spiral thread around a kind of maypole.  On the left you will a naked female figure with long black hair who appears to me to be an Asian woman.  Of course, next to this also, written on one of the bones in the drawing, is the word 'mortal'.  The womb is giving birth to a son; and the son, of course, is mortal.  The Sun will die; the light will disappear again.  There also seems to be a black man being hanged from a tree in the center of the drawing.  The tree is bending down.  The rope is a thick white rope.  The metaphysical symbol to the right, below the Santa Maria (I took this to be Columbus's ship, not the Puritans'), is a mystery of the worlds.  A kind of necklace filled with meaning.  A bright red Sun is behind this all -- red, of course, for Mars, or Adam, the first man.  Red being the symbol of blood and the warrior.  The mystical symbol is, in fact, attached to the Sun.  It is an emblem of the Sun, not of the womb..."

      "Interesting," Crossmann says.

      "We need to view this man's art as an act of prophecy," Baker continues.  "I think our friend from England, Mister Lyons, is correct is the context of his small argument regarding the nature of avant-garde art in the Twentieth Century.  But I think Michael Crossmann breaks the mold.  Crossmann is a renaissance man in a time that is not yet being re-born.  So we don't really know where he belongs in this modern context..."

      "He is an anachronism," Xavier Rubenstein replies.

      Crossmann notices that Oprah Winfrey has returned to the museum, carrying a briefcase.  She is taking with Jim.  She opens the briefcase, showing Jim the contents.  They are talking animatedly.

      Hedda says: "We need to keep moving, unless there are other comments about this painting..."

      Moshe Frank responds: "No one has mentioned it -- but I find it interesting to look inside the womb in the drawing, the parted lips.  There is a face looking out, a large face, with two eyes.  And in the forehead of this face is a second face, one with a kneeling man forming his lips.  Does anyone else see that...?"

      "That boy is on drugs," the Donald says.

      "Yeah, I don't see it," Senator Kennedy says.

      "Of course, it's there," Morgan Freeman says.

      "I see two breasts with nipples coming out of their dress," Senator Kennedy responds.  "It looks like Miss Zeta-Jones a bit.  It probably isn't -- couldnt' be -- but there is a resemblance...  Very lovely."

      "Sexist pig!" the duck mumbles, walking by the senator.

      "Why do you think the woman in this drawing," Hillary Clinton asks, "is portrayed only as a block of a torso.  The so-called Mother has no face, no arms, no head or breasts or legs.  Picasso used to enjoy tearing women's bodies apart in his work.  Is Crossmann any different here?  Is this not, clearly, another male chauvinist abusing women through his art...?"

      "We should burn all his paintings and all his books!" the woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume screams, as she wanders, head down, at the periphery of the audience.

      "This drawing is really quite organic," Richard Baker replies, defending Crossmann.  "This drawing is of the organ itself, from the inside in a sense.  It is not about a singular woman giving birth.  It is a universal womb -- and it is not just the womb of a woman giving birth, it is the womb as an idea, the womb as a universal thought.  It represents the idea of birth..."

      "It is interesting that, next to the word 'mortal'," Warren Beatty responds, "are the lines of a highway.  One gets a clear impression that from birth comes a journey of life, a mortal journey of life.  There is no statement, here, of a return to the womb.  But the road does lead two ways: away from the womb; and back toward the womb..."

            The Magician sidles up to Crossmann again, bearing a message: "Cosmically, Fohat is the 'Son of the Son,' the androgynous energy resulting from this 'Light of the Logos,' which manifests in the plane of the objective Universe as the hidden, as much as the revealed, Electricity -- which is LIFE. Evolution is commenced by the intellectual energy of the Logos, not merely on account of the potentialities locked up in

Mulaprakriti, or Matter. This light of the Logos is the link . . . between objective matter and the subjective thought of the Logos. It is called in several Buddhist books Fohat. It is the one instrument with which the Logos works..."

 

"The Twentieth piece is a collage with very strong political overtones," Hedda says.  "This work was completed in the late 1980's -- and it is really quite frightening: 'Confronting the Bear'.  There are two central figures in the drawing, one with blackened eyes, who seems like a silent partner in the drawing.  The major figure is pointing to his own right; and he is holding what appears to be a bomb in his left hand.  Which I take to be the atomic bomb..."

 

 

                       

 

                                                CONFRONTING THE BEAR

 

"They look like Russians," the Donald ventures in response.

      "I see some machine guns mounted on a turret at the bottom of the drawing," Norman Mailer adds.  "With an upside down Magician with a pointed black hat on the bottom right..."

      Crossmann turns around and looks at the Magician, who spreads his arms outward as if to say: "I know nothing about this..."

      "There are several men in the drawing; and most have their eyes covered," Dan Rather adds.

      "I am wondering if this is Michael Crossmann's view of Russia?" Hedda asks.  "Or if he is the one holding the bomb, confronting the Bear...?"

      "Why don't you ask him?" Truman asks.  He has finally left the food table to join the crowd.  "He's standing right next to you..."

      "Thank you, Tru'," Hedda responds.  "Good idea.  Michael: what was your intention...?"

      "Well, I don't really remember my intention," Crossmann replies.  "But the figures in the drawing seem like the mafia-types who ran Russia for so long.  I think, in the mid-1980's, it became increasingly clear to the Russian government that they were losing the Cold War. They either had to act then, initiate the nuclear war they so dreaded, or for ever fall behind the West.  There was very real serious consideration of fighting then -- of initiating a nuclear war with America.  Gorbachev was the result of this insane dialogue.  Russia knew it couldn't keep up with America if Americans were united behind Reagan.  The 60's and 70's made it appear that the left was winning.  Then this all came apart in the 1980's.  Russia panicked.  They tried to assassinate the Pope to keep a religious revolution in Poland from destroying their empire.  But the pope was too strong to die.  Poland's rebellion really signaled an end to the Russian empire.  Gorbachev understood that this was the end.  Russian either had to choose suicide through nuclear war; or they had to step back and let the empire break apart..."

      "We had the same choice," Norman Mailer responds.  "You said so yourself, in your book..."

      "Yes, we were thinking the same thoughts," Crossmann admits.  "The issues were expand or contract; life or death; Brahma or Siva.  The male principle expands; the female principle contracts.  Heat expands; the Cold contracts.  The Universe has outward manifestation; the Anti-Universe has inward manifestation...."

      "You've described Gorbachev as a manifestation of the Michael the Archangel force," Charlie Rose replies, "that you say came to the planet in the 1980's to save the planet...."

      There is snickering in the audience.

      "Did he have green wings and purple hair?" Gloria Steinem asks.  She is back again.

      "Not to my knowledge," Crossmann replies.

      "That was Betty Freidan," Donald Trump whispers to his wife.

      Mrs. Trump laughs with gusto.

      "Did he have surrendipitous posture; or was he wearing a swastika?" JK Galbreath asks.

      "That sounds like a trick question," Crossmann repsonds.

      "Was he the CEO of IBM?" Ralph Nader asks, angry, his hands shaking visibly.

      "Lou Gerstner was the CEO of IBM," Crossmann replies.  "At least I think he was...."

      "Is this some kind of sick joke?" Jane Fonda asks.

      "What?" Crossmann replies.

      "What?" Fonda asks.

      "Is what some kind of sick joke?"

      "This archangel stuff," Fonda replies.  "Is this a sick joke; or is it some conspiracy involving the CIA or the FBI or perhaps the National Rifle Association...?"

      "Probably the CIA," Fox Mulder implants a thought into the conversation.

      "A vast right-wing conspiracy," Hillary responds.

      "Yes!" Bill Clinton says emphatically.  The audience turns toward the president.  "Yes -- I agree with my wife," he tries to explain.  "A fast right shwwwwing conspiracy...!"

      Clinton is glowing.  Denise Rich's friend has just picked some cookie crumbs off the front of the president's trousers.

      "If I have my way, I'll make it illegal for you to use the word 'angel' in public!" a woman announces in a thick, south Texas drawl.  It is Madelaine Murray-O'Hare, an overweight woman wearing a dull blue housedress and a button near his bosom showing a religious cross exed-out.  "The ACLU is supporting my suit to make any use of the words 'God' or 'angel' or 'devil' or 'prayer' in public places against the law...!"

      Gentleman Jim Heldbert is accompanying Madame O'Hare.  He is dressed in a black tux with tails, a black top hat; and he is carrying a cane.

      He cries out, in the style of a barker:  "The raunchy Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence are planning their 20th Anniversary party in the gay Castro district of San Francisco this coming Easter, and the catholic church is mad - again.  The church seems to have forgotten that, in San Francisco, kinky is a matter of public pride.  But can our local Sisters really be any kinkier than the catholic ones, who all claim to be brides of the same 2000-year old dead guy? What's kinkier than necrophiliac polygamy?  The crazy catholics have fathers who aren't fathers, mothers who aren't mothers, brothers who aren't brothers, and sisters who aren't sisters. And they think it qualifies them to discuss "family values!"  As if that wasn't kooky enough, they swear off sex.  Abstinence - the strangest sexual perversion of all.  Compared to the kooky catholics, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence seem normal.  If the catholic church wants to make criticism of itself a crime, that's a clear sign that criticism is urgently needed...."

      The audience laughs mildly.

      "Who is that guy?" Columbo asks.  "Isn't he a comedian?  Haven't they seen him before -- was he on Seinfeld or Frasier...?" 

      "I am a Catholic," Senator Kennedy replies.  "And I resent your assault on the Catholic Church and on Catholic beliefs...!"

      Madonna appears in the room, dressed as Eva Peron.

      Everything stops; all eyes follow her into the room.

      "It's the Virgin Mary herself," Gentleman Jim invokes.

      Madame O'Hare laughs heartily; but she and Jim are the only two laughing.

      Hedda nods to Lola; Lola nods to the security agents.

      The fat woman and the man in the top-hat are hustled away; they leave insisting that the state has no authority to take them down into the basement.  All the security men have listening devices in their ears. They are taking orders from some invisible agent.  They don't respond to the pleas of the two atheists.

 

"Michael Crossmann became a bear-hunter in a very real sense," Charlie Rose begins again.  "He went to sleep, in his novel, he died, through Jacob Heimkreiter, a liberal, a friend of the Russians and a friend of communism, a strong critic of Ronald Reagan; and he woke up a conservative filled with the warrior's instinct for self-preservation, an adversary of the Communists and Russia, and an ally, a protector of Ronald Reagan.  There is some profound mystery in all of this, as profound and as mysterious as the human genome..."

      "With some bear-demon of his own threatening to kill him," Harold Bloom adds.

      "Something akin to the transmigration of souls," Moshe Frank interjects.  "His novel is about the transmigration of souls..."

      "Any more comments about this piece?" Hedda asks.

      Silence.

      "Do it again," Bill Clinton is heard whispering to someone.

      People turn to look at him.  Hillary stares darts into his forehead.

      Beth, the sexy blonde, is still trying to pick cookie crumbs off the president's crotch.

      "Jesus, Bill," the Donald says quietly to the president.  "Get a hotel room, won't you?"

      "I can't control her," Clinton says to Trump, smiling his infectious smile.  "She loves cookie crumbs -- what can I do...?"

      "I'm not so sure those are cookie crumbs, in fact," Columbo says.  "I have a feeling those cookie crumbs might just have a South American origin..."

      "Let's move on to the next painting," Hedda says.  "Number twenty-one, entitled -- and this is a very literary title -- 'He Confronts the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and, Choosing Re-Birth, He Saves the World from Destruction'.  That's quite a title..."

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann again, speaking again in the old woman's voice: "The seven Laya centres are the seven Zero points, using the term Zero in the same sense that chemists do, to indicate a point at which, in esotericism, the scale of reckoning of differentiation begins. From the Centres -- beyond which esoteric philosophy allows us to perceive the dim metaphysical outlines of the 'Seven Sons' of Life and Light, the Seven Logoi of the Hermetic and all other philosophers -- begins the differentiation of the elements which enter into the constitution of our Solar System. It has often been asked what was the exact definition of Fohat and his powers and functions, as he seems to exercise those of a Personal God as understood in the popular religions.  The whole Kosmos must necessarily exist in the One Source of energy from which this light (Fohat) emanates.  Just as a human being is composed of seven principles, differentiated matter in the Solar System exists in seven different conditions.  So does Fohat.  He is One and Seven, and on the Cosmic plane is behind all such manifestations as light, heat, sound, adhesion, etcetera, and is the 'spirit' of ELECTRICITY, which is the LIFE of the Universe. As an abstraction, we call it the ONE LIFE; as an objective and evident Reality, we speak of a septenary scale of manifestation, which begins at the upper rung with the One Unknowable CAUSALITY, and ends as Omnipresent Mind and Life immanent in every atom of Matter. Thus, while science speaks of its evolution through brute matter, blind force, and senseless motion, the Occultists point to intelligent LAW and sentient LIFE, and add that Fohat is the guiding Spirit of all this. Yet he is no personal god at all, but the emanation of those other Powers behind him whom the Christians call the 'Messengers' of their God (who is rather the Elohim, or rather one of the Seven Creators called Elohim), and whom we call the 'Messenger of the primordial Sons of Life and Light'..."

 

"'The Apocalypse'," Hedda begins.  "Quite an appropriate title and subject, considering what tonight is.  None of us are sure whether Western Civilization as we know it will disappear at the stroke of Midnight tonight, like some dark fairy tale.  Is this Y2K fear founded on reality?  Does it have religious or mystical underpinnings?  I'm not sure what this drawing has to say on this subject.  What do you think, Charlie...?"

     

                                   

     

                                                HE CONFRONTS THE FOUR HORSEMEN

                                                OF THE APOCALYPSE, AND, CHOOSING

                                                RE-BIRTH, HE SAVES THE WORLD FROM

                                                DESTRUCTION

 

"Well, this is an enigmatic drawing, to be sure," Crossmann says.  "Crossmann did choose re-birth, in the novel at least, under the aegis of Michael the Archangel, the Defender of the Western World....  I'm not sure how this relates to the drawing, however..."

      "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, of course," Moshe Frank begins, "represent the four directions, the four guardian angels, as they contract toward the center of the Earth, the world navel, or the womb: Israel.  Many people argue this naval is Jerusalem.  Four armies come from the four directions.  Meeting in the center, at the womb, to annihilate one another, and to destroy the world and, at the same time, to give birth to the next world.  And the Christ child, the messiah, in this drawing, preparing to jump into the opening, into the womb, choosing re-birth rather than destruction, thereby, saving the world.  The savior is born..."

      Henrietta Beach comes in: "This is all a bit mystical for me -- and, also, probably, for some of my colleagues, who are agnostic at best.  I would like to echo something Reggie said earlier tonight, about criciticm being the truly crucial act.  Our art was and has been critical. What I mean by this is that in the major works of our time - be it novels or paintings, poems or musical compositions -- and I do include Michael Crossmann's work in this discussion of course, both his writing and his painting - criticism is inseparable from creation. Let me correct myself: criticism is creative. The criticism of critique, criticism of form, criticism of time in novels or of the self in poetry, criticism of the human figure and visible reality in painting and sculpture. In Marcel Duchamp's work, for example, which stands diametrically opposed to Crossmann's, the century's denial is manifested as a criticism of passion and its phantoms. More than a portrait, his 'The Large Glass' is an X-ray picture; 'The Bride'... is a funereal and amusing construct.  In Crossmann, the disfigurements are no less atrocious, though they convey a contrary feeling: passion criticizes a beloved form, and for this reason his violence and abuse bear the innocent cruelty of love. Passional criticism, bodily denial. The slits, bites, razor slashes and dismemberments he inflicts to the body are punishments, acts of vengeance, reprimands: tributes. Love, anger, impatience, jealousy: worshipping of forms that are alternately terrifying and desirable, in which life is manifest. Erotic fury in sight of the enigma of presence, and an attempt to descend to its origin, that is the grave where bones and worms become one. Crossmann does not paint reality. He paints the love of reality and the horror of being real. To him, reality is never sufficiently real; it always requires more of him. For this reason, he wounds and caresses it; he insults and kills it. For this reason he revives it. Its denial is a mortal embrace. He is a painter with no beyond, with no other world but that beyond the body, which veritably falls short of the beyond. This is where his great strength and his great limitation dwells...   In his aggressions against the human figure, particularly the female figure, the drawing line always prevails.  This line is like a gashing knife and a revivalist magic wand -- I think most readily of his painting 'Marital Strife'. A live and elastic line: serpent, whip, beam; a line suddenly transformed into an arching jet of water, a winding river, a poplar stem, a woman's waistline.  The line runs swiftly across the canvas, and as it passes a whole world of forms springs up, as old and as contemporary as elements without a history.  An ocean, a sky, a few rocks, a thicket and everyday objects, plus historical debris: broken icons, dull knifes, spoon handles, bicycle handlebars.  Once again everything returns to nature, that is never motionless and that never moves. A nature that, like the painter's line, perpetually invents and eradicates its invention... Just how are future generations to regard such a rich and violent life's work made and unmade by passion and haste, genius and ease...?"

      "Clearly his work arches its back like a cat in self-defense," Reggie agrees.  "The coldness of the other-world experience makes us almost want to grab our coats.  He takes us into places where we don't belong.  It is like reading Rilke: we go in there sometimes against our will, confronting images, beings, which are not a part of us, which are a part of him, but not us.  Beings who have laid a claim on his soul, on his nature; for he has unstrung something, some kind of knowledge that has put a mark on him, not the mark of Cain, but a mark nontheless.  The mark of Faust.  He has sought knowledge; and in being given it, he has somehow been transformed into a cat arching his back in self-defense, just before the rush of the two mad world cats begins, moving toward devourment of not only the artist, but also the artist's audience...."

      "Articulate views, of course," Xavier Rubensteins congratulates his colleagues.  "But we musn't forget the philology in this man runs like the Amazon through everything he explores.  In everything there is a primitive memory that he alone understands.  He presents it to us; but we are modern.  There is something extraordinarily archaic in this man.  Is it good; is it bad?  I don't know.  I remember Colonel Kurtz in Contrad's Heart of Darkness; and I see in Michael Crossmann some element of this man, this Colonel Kurtz, who gains some knowledge of the primitive that makes him very dangerous to modern civilization.  There is something foreboding; something daemonic in these pictures.  Not demonic in the Christian sense; but daemonic in the classical sense, some genius of perception that makes us quake just a little bit; a curtain of innocence he has snatched away, leaving us, like the child in this painting or drawing, standing before these giant monsters who wish to annihilate reality.  The only salvation, interestingly, is for us to jump right into the drawing, to go deeper into the drawing.  But to jump in also means our own annihilation.  We know that -- and, so, we resist it.  We know that it will destroy us by saving us; and also, in saving us, it will also destroy us..."

      "Precisely," Reggie says.  "The archaic pin which ties the post-modern into the modern, back near the head.  A kind of hair-pin or a broach.  Yes, there can be no doubt: The revolution is coming!  The revolution is coming again...!  Artists will be revolutionaries again, as they were in the good old days.  Instead of the businessmen they are today...!"

      "Artists have become businessmen today, because they no longer believe in the revolution," Ed Harris replies, dressed up as Jackson Pollock.  "They understand that they are living in the best of worlds, not the best of possible worlds, but the best of actual worlds.  They lost their belief in communism.  So they retreated from the world of social criticism, thereby saving the world from chaos..."

      "Are you suggesting that is the meaning is this 're-birth' in the painting?" Hedda asks Harris.

      Reggie Lyons interrupts: "And what of the therapeutic need inherent in avant-garde art -- that of saving the drowning soul from dismemberment at the hands of  the wicked, philistine, society...?"

      "The drowning soul has been pulled ashore," Harris replies.  "And the society has been found to be less wicked than previously believed..."

      Reggie Lyons' face is red.

      "The artist has gone to heaven," Harris says.  "Which was the objective of avant-garde art.  To help the artist get to heaven.  The artist has overcome alienation.  He has come home again.  The energy of Michael the Archangel has brought all the broken atoms back home again..."

      "It has not brought me home!" Reggie Lyons cries, a vein bulging in his neck.  "The moral objective, by its very nature, is a goal, a home as you put it, which can never be reached.  The moral objective is like the God of the Old Testament, the God without a name, without a face, who cannot be cognized or represented.  The artist is, by definition, the Cain, the outsider, the ant-hero.  Any attempt to make him less steals from him his Luciferian grandeur...!"

      "Idiot's head soup!" Richard Baker grumbles under his breath.  Then he catches a glimpse of Mick Jagger in the audience.  He always admired the Rolling Stones.

      "Watch what you say, Baker!" Reggie warns his critic.

      "The critic is not the creator!" Baker replies.  "You don't get it.  You are always trying to deify yourself.  To put yourself on the same plane with the creators.  We are parasites -- don't you see?  We have no life without the living -- but we stand above the living, looking down on them, telling them how they can do it better; where they succeed; and where they fail -- aggrandizing ourselves.  But if they did not create art for us to declaim, we would be silent mechanisms, automobiles without petrol, waiting for some miracle to come along to free us from our atomic compound..."

      "Jesus!" Columbo says, startled, turning to the president.

      Beth is now on her knees in from of President Clinton, her nose pressed up against his groin, trying to sniff the white powder off this crotch into her nose.

      Clinton is urging her to get up off the floor before someone else notices.

      Hillary refuses to look.

      "That man!" the Donald says with admiration.  "Nothing stops that bastard!  Nothing keeps him from getting what he wants!  You got to admire that kind of insistence...!"

      Martin Sheen hands President Clinton his own hotel key.

      "Get her outta here, Mister President," Sheen says.  "I'll cover for you here while you're gone.  No one will even notice the difference.  We're cut from the same cloth -- and I say that with admiration for you, Mister President -- for what you've done for the working man...."

      Clinton and Beth and Denise Rich sneak away, laughing, not looking back.  Heading for some kind of party...

      Hillary refuses to watch them leave.  Her skin is like alibaster, glowing, as swift as procelain.

      "I think this piece suggests much," Hedda says.  "But maybe we should let it make these suggestions -- and not try to over-analyze it.  Sometimes suggestiveness is just right, the most appropriate comment of all..."

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann again: "The 'Monad' is the combination of the last two 'principles' in man, the 6th and the 7th, and, properly speaking, the term 'human monad' applies only to the dual soul (Atma-Buddhi), not to its highest spiritual vivifying Principle, Atma, alone.  Fohat, the constructive Force of Cosmic Electricity, is said, metaphorically, to have sprung like Rudra from Brahma,  'from the brain of the Father and the bosom of the Mother,' and then to have metamorphosed himself into a male and a female, i.e., polarity, into positive and negative electricity. He has seven sons who are his brothers; and Fohat is forced to be born time after time whenever any two of his son-brothers indulge in too

close contact -- whether an embrace or a fight. To avoid this, he binds together and unites those of unlike nature and separates those of similar temperaments. This, of course, relates, as any one can see, to electricity generated by friction and to the law involving attraction between two objects of unlike, and repulsion between those of like polarity -- and, in doing this, he becomes like Vishnu, the Preserver. The Seven "Sons-brothers," however, represent and personify the seven forms of Cosmic magnetism called in practical Occultism the 'Seven Radicals,' whose co-operative and active progeny are, among other energies, Electricity, Magnetism, Sound, Light, Heat, Cohesion, etc. Occult Science defines all these as Super-sensuous effects in their hidden behaviour, and as objective phenomena in the world of senses; the former requiring abnormal faculties to perceive them -- the latter, our ordinary physical senses. They all pertain to, and are the emanations of, still more supersensuous spiritual qualities, not personated by, but belonging to, real and conscious CAUSES. To attempt a description of such ENTITIES would be worse than useless. The reader must bear in mind that, according to our teaching which regards this phenomenal Universe as a great Illusion, the nearer a body is to the UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE, the more it approaches reality, as being removed the farther from this world of Illusion...."

 

"The twenty-second painting in the show is one of my favorites," Hedda begins.  "The title is 'Where Venus Lives.'  Charlie, do you want to let us know where this fits into the biography of the artist...?"

 

                       

 

                                                WHERE VENUS LIVES

 

"Well," Charlie Rose says, "the artist has chosen to fall, in the last drawing, thereby saving the world.  Now he is interested again is physical love.  He has become Earth-bound again; and Venus has power over the Earth.  Venus is where love and sensuality dwell.  She is the Morning-Star; she entices the man to fall, to procreate with her, to plant seeds in the Earth, so that the Earth will have fertility, wealth, abundance later in the year.  Children..."

      "Sex," Moshe Frank says.  "This is a painting about the power of sex.  We remember that the warrrior, in an earlier painting, was given his penis back.  This penis is to use to fertilize the woman.  By fertilizing the woman, by giving her children, the man saves the woman from chaos.  Chaos is, in fact, the unfertile woman.  The Unfertile Woman, the childless woman, has no future.  So she becomes destructive.  She has nothing to do.   Venus is undressing in this painting, removing her final piece of clothing, a bracelet on her right hand.  I see two men in the painting; and both are fearful.  There is a man in the copper and black pattern to our right of Venus.  And he is fleeing to the east.  The other man, behind him, in the black and green pattern, has a look of terror on his face.  Venus has two golden horns on her head; so this is not all wonderful sex.  There is something behind the surface of her beauty..."

      Harold Bloom says: "Venus and Lucifer are linked in Christian metaphor."

      "One of the horns, on our right," Richard Baker adds, "actually becomes a serpent's head."

      "So, the woman is the devil?" Hillary asks.

      "Why are we not surprised by this?" Gloria Steinem asks.

      "There is a duality in all of his work," Richard Baker replies.  "Good and evil are indissoluably linked.  Venus is good and bad.  She represents the fertility of the Earth; and also the imprisonment of man in matter.  Men fear sex with women; but are also drawn to it for ever.  Sex enslaves them to the material life -- which is both their defilement and their salvation.  Which draws them away from God -- but also draws them back to God.  If you insist on seeing the world always as good or evil, then you will never understand the work of Michael Crossmann..."

      "So the man is afraid of the woman?" Hillary asks, filled with pride.

      "Of course, Richard Baker replies.  "The woman represents the death of the man.  The man is born from the woman, the son is born of the woman, and the word 'mortal' is the first word he sees upon his birth..."

      "So, not only is woman evil," Hillary says, "but she represents death to the man...!"

      "Life and death," Baker replies.  "So, man, too, is life and death."

      "There is no clarity in his vision!" Hillary cries.

      "His vision is Life," Baker replies.  "He has eaten from the Tree of Life.  You wish for moral clarity because you want to be on the right side.  That is your illusion -- that you are good.  But if you are good, then the person across from you must be evil.  From this illusion springs the history of warfare.  Clarity is not always a friend.  The clear truth today will, tomorrow, be the old truth, or falsehood.  The light shines on 12 different truths in time.  It is better to the be light than it is to be the truth..."

      "That is nonsense," Reggie Lyons replies.  "This belief is the illusion of morality is what allows immorality to flourish on the earth..."

      "What is immortality?" Baker asks.  "The Nazis believed the Jews immoral.  The Jews understood that the Nazis were immoral.  This is like Mister Lyons' two forces: the avant-garde who believe that Life is evil; and the post-avant-garde who believes that Life is good, that rebellion against Life is evil -- and, ultimately, stupid..."

      "Are you calling me stupid, you little doctoral student!" Reggie Lyons cries.  "I am a doctor of philosophy I will remind you.  I am a member of the Royal Academy...!"

      "I didn't say you were stupid, Doctor Lyons," Baker corrects.  "I said you were naive -- and that you don't understand this man's work, except through the lens you've manufactured our of your own drive for political status..."

      "That's it!" Reggie Lyons cries.  He reaches out to grab young Baker by the collar; but Baker throws a stiff left jab that catches Doctor Lyons on the jaw, then an overhand right that strikes Lyons above the right eye.  The blow knocks Doctor Lyons backward on his butt.  He does not try to get up.  There is a cut above his right eye.  He lies down, dazed.

      Lola Fanti rushes in and takes Richard Baker in a choke hold, dropping him to his knees.  Her men move in and escort Baker through the crowd down to the Museum basement. 

      Catherine Zeta-Jones cries: "I used to be a nurse."

      She hurries up to the injured Englishman, kneeling down beside him.  Hedda hands her a clean white napkin -- which Catherine presses against the wound above Lyons' right eye.  She bends over the injured man: "Are you alright?" she asks.

      Crossmann is standing across from Ms. Zeta-Jones, looking down at her splendid figure in her beautiful blue gown.  Florence Nightingale in evening dress.  Her breasts are almost fully exposed as she leans over the victim, ministering aid.

      Crossmann enjoys the view: two voluptuous flesh fruits, abundant, ready to be eaten.

      She looks up at Crossmann, smiling knowingly.

      "Are you enjoying the view?" she asks Michael Crossmann.

      "As much as any I've ever seen," Crossmann replies.

      "Let me up," Doctor Lyons insists.  "I will not lie down here like Larry Holmes or some other of Tyson's victims.  So I have blood on my white shirt.  I don't care.  I will fight for my ideas.  I may be bloodied for my ideas.  I will even die for my ideas.  For I am an avant-garde critic.  I am willing to die for what I know to be right.  The bullies, like Mister Baker, defend a corrupt society -- and I speak for revolution against these bullies...!"

      He is led away by Lola Fanti, who takes him around the corner to the administrative offices for some medical attention.

      "Please, let us have calm!" Hedda cries.  "Ideas seem to be wearing boxing gloves tonight.  I guess one should expect nothing less on Millennium eve.  We should move to the next painting, number twenty-three..."

      Crossmann notices that Louis Farrakahn is talking with Jim off to the side.  He is holding the Oprah's briefcase.  He seems to be offering it to Jim.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann again, speaking again in the old Russian woman's voice: "It is Fohat who guides the transfer of the principles from one planet to the other, from one star to another -- a child-star. When a planet dies, its informing principles are transferred to a laya or sleeping centre, with potential but latent energy in it, which is thus awakened into life and begins to form itself into a new sidereal body...."

     

The audience moves on to the next painting.

      "This one is entitled 'The Matador'," Hedda begins.  "This painting, and the upcoming 'Marital Strife', remind me quite a bit of Picasso.  This one perhaps not so much for the style, as for the subject matter.  The matador is, very clearly, a masculine figure, a force of masculine activity.  It is a day painting; and a day activity...."

 

 

 

                       

 

                                                            MATADOR

 

 

"The Bull is a symbol of Taurus, also," Moshe Frank adds.  "Which is the second step of the Male energy during the Day.  The Springtime of the year..."

      "He is a kind of hero, battling with the dualistic forces of nature," Richard Baker replies.  He has re-appeared, shadowed by one of Fanti's officers.  "The dualistic script, which is the shadow of the bull, is the most enduring image of this painting, at least to me.  The intacacies of the interwoven psyche -- it is the black and white woven together which creates pictures, which creates stories -- is the counterpoint in the painting.  One has the sense that the entire painting is, indeed, reflected in this counterpoint somewhere, somewhere off the canvas.  There are many beings in this counterpoint, many creatures, which are the memories and fears of the matador himself.  In the head of the bull is a main face, with a large mouth, very white lips.  He is a kind of alter-ego, the non-heroic being in the matador himself, that the matdor wishes to keep away from the surface of life..."

      "A kind of demonic shadow," Moshe Frank agrees.  "The spirit of Discord, Rebellion, the Night -- the avant-garde Night -- which the Day God drives away, under the stampeding foot of the Minotaur..."

      "The matador is a man of heart," Peter Falk adds.  "That is very clearly illustrated."

      "The sense I am getting from all this biography, the meaning of the sequence of pictures," Hillary says, "is that the artist thinks that the world is better with the women at home, pregnant, barefoot, taking care of the children.  Is that the truth of his seemingly very reactionary vision...?"

      "Mister Crossmann," Hedda asks.  "Would you like to respond to that question...?"

      "The bull is the Earth and the demands of the Earth," Crossmann says.  "The matador plays with this bull.  He wars with the bull, on the bull's own ground.  He dances with the bull. .."

      "But what is the implication for the women?" Hillary asks.  "We have just seen Venus disrobing to have sex with the frightened men.  The next image we see is the man fighting the bull.  Very virile, very earthy; but there is no woman.  Is the woman at home, barefoot and pregnant...?"

      "Probably," Crossmann says.  "To everything there is a season, in symbolism."

      "The woman is pregnant," Hillary says, "and the men are free to run wild, killing bulls and all else.  Where is the justice in that, I ask you...?"

      "Women bearing children is no injustice," Crossmann replies.  "That is Nature's rule.  We try to twist that reality out of shape, because it does not fit our ideology.  There is no absolute equality between the sexes.  Men are created for one task; women for another.  Many tasks can be shared.  But because we have lost track of the main roles of men and women in our society, we have fallen into chaos and perversion.  Being a mother is the highest creative act of a woman, greater, much greater than painting a painting or writing a poem.  When women belittle this act, they do themselves and their society a grave injustice.  What act is more noble than bearing a child, in raising a child to be a good human being...?"

      "You want us in the house so you can have all the glory!" Hillary responds.  "We know it!  We want some of the glory too...!"

      "Why do you want glory so badly?" Crossmann asks.

      "Wha do you want it so badly?" Hillary asks.

      "I don't want it so badly," Crossmann replies.  "I know that it is another form of the cross."

      "Penis envy!" Freud cries -- the ghost of Freud -- moving through the room like a cloud, a mist. 

      Hillary tries to strike him as he floats past her, above her head.

      Gloria Steinem throws her shoe at him.

      "Fascist!" the woman in the chartreuse downy duck suit cries wildly, looking at nothing.  "You and Andy Warhol are to blame for our current state of desperation...!"

      "Crossmann is not so bad," Jerry Fallwell calls out.  "He wants the women back in the home...!"

      "Everything in its season," Crossmann says.  "Even rebellion, when the Night gets to rule.  Even rebellion, when the knife-wielding wife, with her illegitimate lover, strikes her husband down..."

      "Murder?" Fallwell cries.  "No, we can't tolerate murder!  Not in our mythology...!"

      Fallwell turns to Jim Baker: "He's against queers -- did you hear that, Jimmy Boy!  He's against the dirty queers...!"

      But Jim Baker does not celebrate.

      "Prison has taught me to be more humble," Jim Baker responds.

      "Hell, prison turned you into a queer yourself!" Fallwell says.  "I had heard that about you.  I didn't believe it until now...!"

      Fallwell turns to Jimmy Swagart: "Jimmy, Crossmann's against the queers and the perverts!  Did you hear that...?"

      "I'm a sinner, Jerry," Swagart confesses.  "I have sinned with...!"

      "Not with boys!  Not you too...!  Not like that damned Baker...!"

      "No, with....women of ill repute!" Swagart confesses.

      "Oh, hell, Jimmy.  Hide a corn cob in a dark place at night," Fallwell replies.  "That never really hurt anyone.  Into your niece late at night when the family is asleep; or into the Mexican gardener's youngest daughter when she's working in the house when the family has gone to the beach house.  Hell, it never hurt anyone.  As long as it's not a little boy's butt that is.  Go on tv; say you've sinned; say you're sorry.  Ask to be forgiven.  Take a page from our friend Clinton's book.  Ask them to send you money.  Hell, everything'll be ok.  Crossmann is against the queers!  I think I can forgive him for being an occultist -- as long as he's against the queers...!"

      "Are you against homosexuals?" Elton John asks Crossmann.

      "The crooked become straight," Crossmann replies.  "And the straight then become crooked.  That is the Law.  Homosexuals are trapped in a box of rebellion.  They fight against their fathers.  When they forgive themselves, they forgive their fathers.  And, when they forgive their fathers, they are released from the box...."

      "Then you hate perversions?  Is that correct, Crossmann?" Fallwell asks.

      "To hate is also a perversion," Crossmann replies.

      "To hate evil is no perversion!" Fallwell cries.

      "Jesus forgave even perversions," Crossmann replies.

      "He did not counsel perversion -- he forgave it," Fallwell responds.  "But the father does not counsel or forgive perversion..."

      "And when the son becomes the father, all perversion disappears from the world," Crossmann says.  "And the world, again, has saved itself from destruction..."

      "You are like a moving target," Fallwell cries.  "You have no beliefs.  You are like a shadow.  You are like the shadow of the matador, moving always, avoiding the bull..."

      "Avoiding your bull," Richard Baker says.

      The audience laughs.

      "You are like the ghost of Freud, Crossmann!" Jerry Fallwell cries.  "You have no substance.  You are like the wind, with no morality, with no bone or body..."

      Fallwell picks up Goria Steinem's shoe from the floor and throws it at Crossmann.

      The Magician catches it before it strikes Crossmann.

      "Let he who has not sinned cast the first shoe," Crossmann says.

      "Slippery devil!" Fallwell mutters under his breath.

      Fallwell turns to Jimmy Swagart: "We can't let him come to power!  He will ruin us surely.  We have a good thing now.  We have made a very lucrative business out of this religion thing.  If he comes to power, he'll ruin it for us.  Let's go have a talk with these Blue Men..."

      He points to the four skinheads standing at the end of the audience.

      Count Ricard and Countess Ursula Heidrich, from Stuttgart, motion to Lola.  They are interested in bidding on the painting 'Matador'.  They are standing with two other Europeans, Ingrid Thule, an heiress from Oslo, and Maurice Levoissier, a leading collector from Paris.  They all stand in a silent circle of refinement, pale and stiff, motionless and cured -- as if they have mastered the art of living without breathing.

      "This piece is exquisite," Levoissier says.  "This first really great work in America since de Kooning.  I think you are making an excellent choice, Ricard."

      "We will move on unless we have other comments," Hedda says.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, handing him Gloria Steinem's shoe.  A black shoe.  Cinderella.  Crossmann smells the shoe.   The crowd shudders in horror.

      Crossmann flips the shoe through the air back to Gloria Steinem.  Ted Kennedy catches it in the air; and hands the shoe back to Ms. Steinem.

      The Magician says: "When Fohat is said to produce 'Seven Laya Centres,' it means that for formative or creative purposes, the GREAT LAW (Theists may call it God) stops, or rather modifies its perpetual motion on seven invisible points within the area of the manifested Universe. 'The great Breath digs through Space seven holes into Laya to cause them to circumgyrate during Manvantara.'  We have said that Laya is what science may call the Zero-point or line; the realm of absolute negativeness, or the one real absolute Force, the NOUMENON of the Seventh State of that which we ignorantly call and recognise as 'Force'; or again the Noumenon of Undifferentiated Cosmic Substance which is itself an unreachable and unknowable object to finite perception; the root and basis of all states of objectivity and subjectivity too; the neutral axis, not one of the many aspects, but its centre. It may serve to elucidate the meaning if we attempt to imagine a neutral centre -- the dream of those who would discover perpetual motion. A 'neutral centre' is, in one aspect, the limiting point of any given set of senses. Thus, imagine two consecutive planes of matter as already formed; each of these corresponding to an appropriate set of perceptive organs. We are forced to admit that between these two planes of matter an incessant circulation takes place; and if we follow the atoms and molecules of (say) the lower in their transformation upwards, these will come to a point where they pass altogether beyond the range of the faculties we are using on the lower plane. In fact, to us the matter of the lower plane there vanishes from our perception into nothing -- or rather it passes on to the higher plane, and the state of matter corresponding to such a point of transition must certainly possess special and not readily discoverable properties. Such 'Seven Neutral Centres,' then, are produced by Fohat, who, when, as Milton has it -- 'Fair foundations (are) laid whereon to build'. . . -- quickens matter into activity and evolution...."

 

"The twenty-fourth painging is, in fact, a very sad work," Hedda says.  "It is entitled 'Saying Goodbye'.  It is rather sparse..."

      "I want this painting," Elton John cries out.  "It is an emblem of the AIDS crisis.  Two homosexual lovers are saying goodbye to one another...!"

 

 

     

     

     

                                                SAYING GOODBYE

 

      Fallwell calls from the back of the room: "AIDS is a plague brought upon man because of Homosexuals...!"

      "In terms of biography," Charlie Rose comes in, "this painting is about the separation of the two brothers, Michael and William Crossmann, who had lived so close for so many years.  Michael and William were like twins, were like Castor and Pollux of the earlier painting.  But Michael Crossmann has been re-born, has entered again the arena of sex.  He wishes to marry.  He meets again a woman he knew in college, Irene Carlyle.  They had been lovers; in fact, they had ..."

      "They murdered a baby together!" Oprah Winfrey calls from the back row, near Reverend Farrakahn.  "He murdered the baby!  She merely flushed a foetus out of here system since she was not prepared emotionally or financially to be a mother at that time..."

      "Well, yes," Rose says.  "They did have an abortion together.  At which event Michael Crossmann passed out on the clinic floor..."

      "Fucking wimp!" the woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume says, glaring up at Crossmann.  "Matador my ass.  It they would have thrown a bloody fetus at him, he would have fainted away like the Andy Warhol he is or is pretending not to be...!"

      Crossmann notices that Jerry Fallwell has an open briefcase he is showing to the four skinheads in the back of the Museum.  He turns and points to Michael Crossmann.

      "He will marry Irene Carlyle soon after," Rose continues.  "They will have a daughter.  The two brothers will part company at this point, Michael Crossmann remaining in Oregon, and William Crossmann proceeding to the small town of Belt, Montana..."

      "I think it's about death and AIDS," Elton John insists.

      The ghost of Freddie Mercury moves through the room, trying to sing but coughing instead.

      The ghost of Rock Hudson also appears in the room, moving up behind Gloria Steinem, pinching her on the ass.

      "My God!" Steinem recoils.  She turns to strike her molester.

      "Loosen up, babe!" Hudson says.  "You've got a nice ass, a cute smile.  Why don't you learn to live a little!  I pity the poor boy who has to grow up a son under your regime!  You're as bad as Stalin!  No wonder so many boys turn up queer.  Mothers like you cut their balls until they believe they have no balls.  Turn them in to asshole bandits.  Little girls looking for a friend.  Look at me.  I know what I'm saying.  I lived it, baby!  I know what it's like...!"

      He floats out of the room.

      Elton John gets down on his knees and begins to pray to the two ghosts who leave the room holding hands.

      A group of middle-aged women appear in the museum, carrying a large picture of John Lennon.  They are all dressed in white.  And they are singing: "Imagine there's no country; it isn't hard to do; nothing to kill or die for; no religion too...!"

      "Lennonites," Peter Falk whispers to Michael Douglas.  "A new religious order founded on the songs of John Lennon.  They believe Lennon was the second coming of Jesus...!"

      The ghost of John Lennon follows behind the singing vestals.  He is dressed in a long flowing white robe, with long brown hair, a beard, and a white tampax on his head.  He tries to take a glass of champaign from the tray of a passing waitress; but she pulls away from him, startled by his pale countenance.

      "Give me that glass, damn it!  Do you know who I am!" Lennon commands.

      "You're an asshole with a kotex on your head!" the waitress responds, walking away without giving him a glass.

      Everyone in the room genuflects as John Lennon's ghost passes through the room, then down into the msueum basement, looking for alcohol.

      Crossmann notices an Asian woman, very pretty, moving behind Lennon's ghost.  It looks like Yoko Ono from one angle; but when she turns to face Crossmann she becomes Hoa-Lan Tran, the woman Crossmann remembers from the Millionaire show.

      She follows Lennon down into the basement.

      "I think this piece is one of the strongest in the show," Woody Allen says.  "For the power of its feeling.  Cearly, it is the end of something.  It has a very strong emotion in it."

      "Then comes Crossmann's marriage," Charlie Rose announces, looking ahead to the next painting.

      Crossmann notices that the fourth skinhead is no longer the Governor of Minnesota -- but he has become the bald man from the dark building, the one who tried to steal the election for Gore.  He smiles at Crossmann, winks, and raises his right hand, pretending it a gun.  He squeezes the trigger.

      "Shall we move on to 'Wedding Night'?" Hedda asks.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, and says, in the voice of Jim, Crossmann's friend: "There are enemies here, Michael.  Enemies who want you dead.  Enemies with money who are trying to buy your dissolution.  Beware both friends and those who say they are friends!  Beware the enemies most whose enemy you have yet to be declared...!"

 

"'Wedding Night' is the twentieth-fifth piece in the show," Hedda says.  "It is colored pencil on black paper.  It is a humorous illustration of two ducks having a kind of engineered intercourse.  I must say that this is a strangely unromatic impression of the lovemaking at a honeymoon...."

 

 

                                                WEDDING NIGHT

 

"It is more like a sculpture," Reggie Lyons says, having returned from the first-aid room, two bandaids pinching closed the wound above his left eye.  The eye is swollen and discolored.  "I believe it could be buillt in three dimensions and be, really, quite striking..."

      Lola has a burly sergeant stand between Lyons and Richard Baker.  He forces them to shake hands.

      "Does anyone feel insulted by this rendering of lovemaking in such a mechanical construction?" Hedda asks.

      "Well, I feel insulted by most of the show," Hillary Clinton says.  "The treatment of women and non-whites in this exhibit is really quite insulting to all of us who are sensitive to those issues.  This painting is a slap in the face of women generally.  The woman is nothing but a sex machine, attached to the man by some constructed element.  It is a huge penis going in to her private part.  That must really hurt.  I hope he was good enough to lubricate the woody before he put it in her....  That marital duty can be quite painful for those wives who are not in the mood whenever the fancy stirkes a husband to...make sparks..."

      "It is humorous," Warren Beatty responds.  "It is playful.  I think its quite fun, really enjoyable..."

      "Women are always on the bottom," Jane Fonda says.  "In Crossmann's work, women are always on the bottom..."

      "That is not true," Richard Baker replies.  "In his novel at least, women are on top half of the time..."

      "But it is the time of trouble," Gloria Steinem says.  "Women on top is a signal of trouble, a signal of chaos..."

      "Night is a time of rest," Baker replies.  "The women are in power during that rest.  Only prior to waking does the rest become troubled.  As the man prepares to rise and take command, again, of the world..."

      "Look at the next painting!" Gloria says.  "Male chauvinist pig...!"

      "Are we ready to move on to the next painting?" Hedda asks.

      No response.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, speaking in the old woman's voice again: "'The Seed appears and disappears continuously.' Here 'Seed' stands for 'the World-germ,' viewed by Science as material particles in a highly attenuated condition, but in Occult physics as 'Spiritual particles,' i.e., supersensuous matter existing in a state of primeval differentiation. In theogony, every Seed is an ethereal organism, from which evolves later on a celestial being, a God. In the 'beginning,' that which is called in mystic phraseology 'Cosmic Desire' evolves into absolute Light. Now light without any shadow would be absolute light -- in other words, absolute darkness -- as physical science seeks to prove. That shadow appears under the form of primordial matter, allegorized -- if one likes -- in the shape of the Spirit of Creative Fire or Heat. If, rejecting the poetical form and allegory, science chooses to see in this the primordial Fire-Mist, it is welcome to do so. Whether one way or the other, whether Fohat or the famous FORCE of Science, nameless, and as difficult of definition as our Fohat himself, that Something 'caused the Universe to move with circular motion,' as Plato has it; or, as the Occult teaching expresses it:  The Central Sun causes Fohat to collect primordial dust in the form of balls, to impel them to move in converging lines and finally to approach each other and aggregate.' (Book of Dzyan) . . . . . 'Being scattered in Space, without order or system, the world-germs come into frequent collision until their final aggregation, after which they become wanderers (Comets). Then the battles and struggles begin. The older (bodies) attract the younger, while others repel them. Many perish, devoured by their stronger companions. Those that escape become worlds.'

 

"The next painting, number 26,is the portrait of, judging from the title, the 'Self-Made Man'," Hedda says.

      "He is the symbol of what is wrong with the world," Gloria Steinem says.  "Greed, the patriarchy, white racism, the Individual against the collective.  Capitalism.  Everything that is wrong with the West..."

      "He is the enemy?" Donald Trump asks.  "Is that what you are saying?"

      "Yes, he is the enemy!" Gloria says.

      "He is the man you want to castrate?" Ted Kennedy asks.

      "If she doesn't, I do!" Hillary Clinton cries.

      "The strong man frightens you?" the Donald asks.  "You need to have your man weak, like a little boy...?  You want your sons to be gay, so you can control them, rule them...!"

      "This painting clearly alienates many women," Hedda says.  "Even to myself.  This painting is a bit overwhelming..."

      "It seems to me," Morgan Freeman responds, "that this man is not a white man at all.  This man has a dark face.  Has no one noticed this...?"

 

 

                       

 

                                                            SELF-MADE MAN

 

"This represents Crossmann's atonement with money," Charlie Rose says.  "Crossmann, for quite some time, after his so-called 're-birth' and his marriage and fatherhood -- Crossmann spent quite a bit of time investing money and trying to develop computer software to time trading in stocks.  This is Crossmann in his father role.  He is attempting to gain money, to build a better life for his family.  It is clearly his capitalist phase, as he had a communist phase.  We note the background in this collage painting are a series of stock tables and charts taken from the newspaper.  He is clearly now in the universe, as he was, before, in the anti-universe.  The anti-universe is, by defintion, anti-materialistic...."

      "I hate this painting, " Jane Fonda cries.  "It is so arrogant.  So self-satisfied...!"

      "It is too strong for women who like to rule their men," Norman Mailer replies.

      "Do any men find this painting offensive?" Hedda asks.

      No respond in the affirmative.

      Suddenly, the young woman in the chartreuse down duck costume appears near the painting and begins hurling what looks like an umber-colored mud at the painting.  A large clump of the mud lands on the wall next to the painting.

      "Oh!" the crowd gasps.  The mud has a yellow, rotten stench.

      "I believe that's elephant dung," Mailer says.  "I remember it from my safaris in Africa."

      "Elephant dung!" Hedda cries.  "Lola!"

      But Lola has already snapped into action.  She has the chartreuse duck in a half-nelson; and she is wrestling her to the ground.

      "Where in hell would she find elephant dung in New York?" Hedda asks.  But then she remembers.... 

     

Madelaine Murray-O'Hare and her friend, Gentleman Jim, reappear in the gallery, off to the left side of the room, near a side door. 

      "Welcome to the Rocky Horror side of the MOMA tonight," Gentlemen Jim announces.  "Step one, step all, to the real artist's exhibit tonight -- come in, come in.  We have surgical gloves and buckets of elephant dung.  This is a pro-active installation, political, yes, but also therapeutically regenerative, to those who have the courage to enter..."

      "Enter for more Catholic-Bashing," the Madame O'Hare calls out.  "Watch Pachyderm Poo and St. Mary of the Intact Hymen do battle on our show tonight," she says, mimiching Ed Sullivan, arching her mouth into a long void, stretching the word 'show' so that it sounds like 'shoe'...

      The audience wanders into the room off to the side, following Gentleman Jim and the obest women like they were hypnotists in command of the world. 

      Crossmann follows them, curious about this new disturbance.

      It is a long room, perhaps one hundred feet deep, but narrow.  There is a painting at the end of the room; it is hung on a single column.  White painting tarps have been spread below the painting and on the walls behind the painting.

      Crossmann tries to focus on the painting.  It is a painting of the Virgin Mary.  She is a broad-featured black woman wearing a blue dress shaped like a leaf.  In the painting, also, swarming around the Virgin Mary like flies, are small pornographic pictures the artist has cut out of magazines and glued to the canvas.  The Virgin Mary's left breast is not a breast at all -- but a round splattering of elephant dung.  There are other small clungs of dung in the painting.  The artist is an African man from England.  He is smiling, welcoming the audience in the room.

      "This is insulting!" Madonna cries.  "Have you no respect for a people's religious beliefs...!"

      Madonna leaves the room.

      Gentleman Jim is laughing wildly.  He cries: "The painting is not finished, of course.  Put on a glove; get a ball of dung; let it fly.  Join the artist in celebrating the millenium...!"

      "Who is that woman?" Senator Kennedy asks.

      "That is the Virgin Mary," the artist replies.

      "My God, man, are you insulting the Catholic church?" Kennedy cries.

      "This is not an insult," the artist replies.  "Dung is good.  Elephant dung is perhaps the best dung of all..."

      "What if someone threw dung at your mother," Senator Kennedy asks.  "Would that be a compliment...?"

      "Calm down, Senator," Hillary counsels.  "The artist has the right to say what he wants.  This is a free country.  At least it was the last time I checked...!"

      "Step up!" Gentleman Jim calls out.  He dips his hand in a tall kitchen bucket containing the dung.  He comes up with a handfull -- and flings it at the painting.  A PLOP hits near the Virgin Mother's face.

      "Oh!" he and Madelaine cry out.

      The artist seems to appreciate it too.

      "Audience involvement," he says shyly.

      The dung has a sharp stench; and people begin spilling out of the room.

      "Disgusting!"

      "That's not art!"

      "Appalling!"

      Then, inexplicably, the dung begins to fly at everyone, at those leaving the room, at those still in the room.  Before long, many people are involved -- hurling handfulls of dung at anything that moves.  That is, until Lola Fanti's police arrive, and begin steering the two atheists and the African artist out of the room, down into the basement.

      The Mayor wanders into the room -- and he is livid.

      "What is this?  Hedda, what is this!  This is a desecration!  What is the meaning of this!  It's ok to throw shit at the mother of Jesus -- is that the message?  I'll shut this place down!  I'll make you pay for this insult to all Catholics in the world...!"

      The Mayor is gone.

     

The news media is outside the room, with cameras.

      A pretty newswoman is interviewing people coming out of the room.  The light above the cameraman is glaring.  "We are here with New York City celebrities coming out of the show at the MOMA that has the whole town talking -- the painting of the Virgin Mary covered with elephant dung.  We're asking them what they think..."

      "Kartha Pollitt, what did you think of the show?" the pretty newswoman, Angela Luckman, asks.

      Kartha replies: "The Virgin Mary wasn't Catholic -- she isn't even a uniquely Catholic symbol.  To me, the painting suggests the cheerful mother goddess of an imaginary folk religion-an infinitely happier image of female strength and sexuality than the pallid plaster virgins and Raphael copies on display wherever you look..."

      "Are you saying that this artist is a greater artist than Raphael, the Italian master?" Angela asks.

      "Yes, well he is more lively, to be sure," Kartha replies.  "Look, it's not great art -- but we have a European bias.  Why should all our art be European anyway?  Why not African art?  Why not irreverent art too?  Does all our art have to be white art...?"

      "Camille Paglia, what do you think of this show?" Angela asks.

      "Why are a Jewish collector and a Jewish museum director openly sponsoring anti-Catholic art?" Camille Paglia asks.

      "Tasteless," Donald Trump responds.  "Simply tasteless."

      "Why don't they just have a show down in the men's lavatory?" Norman Mailer asks.

      "James Cameron, director of Titanic, what do you think of this exhibit?" Angela asks.  "The Mayor wants this show out of the museum.  It was sponsored with city funds -- and he says the city won't pay the museum for this kind of disgrace.  Do you agree with the major...?

      James Cameron says: "Ah, yes. Censorship. Whether it be in the form of music, art or reading material. Whereas I don't always agree with the content, we do have the right to express ourselves as long as it does not interfere with someone else's rights. In the specific case you mention in your question about 'a painting of the Virgin Mary covered in elephant dung', I may not like it, but it is the artists right  to make it, same as it is my right to write lyrics about whatever topic I see fit. The problem with the "Censorship" part of this is two-fold.  First, the more it is sensationalized, the more people will want to see it because of the controversy.  Second, to censor it is taking away my rights as an adult to choose what I find offensive. My main feeling is that I don't want a politician, religious fanatic, Philly fanatic or any other person telling me I can't read, listen to or enjoy a video, book, music style or any other thing that is my personal choice to do. Usually the person doing the "offensive" project is found to be doing it to gain publicity anyway, such as in the case of Marilyn Manson, Twisted Sister, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue, as well as many others..."

      "Art Critic for the New York Times, Peter Schjeldahl, what do you think?" Angela asks.

      "I think its' a gorgeous, sweet and respectful treatment of the subject," Schjeldahl responds, "rendering her as a sternly hieratic African personage in petal-like blue robes. Much of the painting's surface shimmers ecstatically with glitter in yellow resin. Tiny collaged cutouts of bare bottoms from porn magazines evoke putti, and allude to the element of fertility in Mary's symbology, which this artist did not invent. As for the pachyderm product, it is one smallish, attached lump, capped with what appears to be black-and-white beadwork (in reality pushpin heads) in a design of concentric circles. Elephant poop turns out to be innocuous-looking stuff, not unpleasant in color and almost decorative in texture (lots of straw)..."

      "That, of course, was before the shit-throwing contest began," Angela adds.

      "Well, yes.  But you have to understand the meaning of the art -- and the participation desired by the artist," the critic answers.  "It is not art as much as it is life.  Life is different than art -- as the bumpersticker says, 'Shit Happens'.  Well, that's the way it is with Art sometimes.  Sometimes Art Happens too.   I think it's a great show.  I think he's a major artist...!"

      Sandra Bernstein passes by.

      "It's too intelligent for the mass of people," Sandra says.  "I mean, it's...it has an ethereal meaning, which most people just don't get...!"

      "You have some dung in your hair, Sandra," Angela tells her.

      "Where?"

      "There," Angela points, "near your collar."

      "Oh, shit," Sandra Bernstein replies, "I just had this coat dry-cleaned.  Fucking moron.  Whose fucking idea was it to start throwing that shit....."

      "It's because the artist is black-skinned," Jane Fonda says, "that's why there is such an issue about this.  If it was a white-skinned Italian, this would not be an issue..."

      "Italians are mostly olive-skinned," Sylvester Stallone reponds.  "Italians aren't white.  Norwegians are white.  Italians have olive-colored skin.  The show is a disaster.  The so-called artist ought to be taken out in the alley and shot.  This is a disgrace..."

      Francis Ford Coppola: "I'm sickened.  I'm glad my mother wasn't there to see that. It probably would have killed her.  The museum made a major mistake with this.  As an Italian, I'm shocked..."

      "The Mayor hates black people," Al Sharpton says.  "He always has.  And he always will.  He just hates seeing a black woman up on the wall with her breast exposed..."

      "That wasn't her breast, Al," Angela points out.  "That was elephant dung..."

      "Elephant what?"

      "Elephant dung."

      "Jesus Christ.  Who put that crap on a painting of a black woman?  Did the Mayor do that...?"

      "Woody Allen?  What did you think of the exhibit...?" Angela asks.

      "Well, at least no one tried to eat the elephant dung," Woody replies.  "I guess it could have been worse...?"

      "President Clinton, what did you think?" Angela asks.

      "They were cookie crumbs," Clinton says.  "She just likes cookies -- that's all..."

      "Marlon Brando -- what do you think?" Angela asks.

      "Pig shit thrown on the wall is not art," Brando says.

      "It was elephant dung," Angela points out.

      "Oh, so that makes it better...?"

      Brando has a big splotch of elephant dung on the back of his tuxedo.  Angela doesn't say anything to him.  He's already mad enough...

      "Jerry Seinfeld," Angela says.  "Jerry, what do you think...?"

      "This place is a madhouse," Seinfeld replies.  "Kramer got hit in the side of the face with a big wad of that stuff..."

      "Do you think the artist has a right to express his opinion in that way...?"

      "Is that what he was doing -- expressing an opinion?" Jerry asks.  "Sure, I guess.  Everyone has their opinion.  I think that kind of opinion should be expressed in a private toilet instead of in a public gallery however..."

      Joan Rivers comes by: "What do I think?  Anything covered in excrement has a good chance of offending the majority especially when it deliberately desecrates something which is considered to be 'holy' to a large group of people.  Obviously the thing smells pretty bad too. 'Artwork' like this is juvenile at best - the artist should give it to his mother to put on her fridge alongside his finger paintings from  kindergarten ... or perhaps this is the artist's attempt to reconcile his love/hate relationship with his mother ... maybe he sees his mother as 'the mother of God', which would make him deity, which would mean he can do whatever he likes ... at least until he is snapped out of his delusion on Judgment Day when he has to explain his actions to 'the real deal' ...."

      "Paul Newman," Angela says.  "What do you think of this art...?"

      "Art, is that what it is?" Newman replies.  "Quite simply, beyond an attempt to see how far boundaries can be pushed, I see little or no value in calling something like this painting 'art'.  My question is not whether they should continue to fund this with tax-payers money, or evict it, but more pointedly, who is responsible for deciding who is, and who is not, worthy of display?  This isn't social commentary, nor is it (in probability) a commentary on religious or moral issues.  It is someone trying for a quick shock - and getting it -- and in my mind this in no way qualifies it as significant enough for such exposure. I'm both disappointed in the government for considering censorship, and the museum and those who call themselves proponents of 'the arts', supporting this particular piece in the first place...."

      "Tamara Evans, Columbia University Professor of Art History," Angela asks, "what is your take on this exhibit and the subsequent public reaction..."

      "The public is largely unschooled in the nature of sophisticated modern art," Tamara replies.

      "Some people think modern art is elitist," Angelas answers.  "What do you say to that...?"

      "Elitist or not," Tamara replies.  "You have to be educated to understand anything.  You can't reach a French novel until you learn the French language.  You can't understand art until you have studied art.  This artist is brilliant.  His work is meaningful.  His work is a criticism of the white patriarchal domination of the earth.  It is the white man who has thrown elephant dung on the Virgin Mary.  Now they are blaming it on this black man.  But his hurling of dung at the Virgina Mary is an indictment of the white man's abuse of the black community for so many generations..."

      "So, the artist is not responsible for the art work because he is black?" Angela asks.

      "That's not the point," Tamara Evans replies.  "The work is a satire.  It's a satire of the rape of the world by white men, the rape of the religious spirit, the true religious spirit by capitalism....  Anyway, I liked it.   I think it's great.  It's good multi-cultural stuff.  That's what art is supposed to do: it's supposed to stir people up and make them think..."

      "The only thing that this art makes people think about," Jack Nicholson says over Tamara's shoulder, "is where they might find the nearest toilet so they can puke and get it over with...!"

      "Mayor Giuliani," Angela asks, "there is a lot of controversy over this show.  What are your feelings about this show...?"

      "This is a disgrace," the Mayor responds.  "This work is openly anti-Catholic, desecrating an image that is sacred to millions of people worldwide.  And this show is being funded, at least partially, by state funds.  I will see that state funding is pulled on this show, and from this gallery unless the art directors here begin to show better judgment about the content of their exhibits and show some respect for the moral values of the decent members of the American public..."

      "Bill Cosby," Angela asks.   "What is your take on this controversial exhibit...?"

      "Three words: Demeaning, degrading and offensive," Cosby replies. "If words such as these enter your mind for even a second, then it is clearly unacceptable to support these self proclaimed 'artists'.  Shock factor doesn't equate to talent. Common decency and respect is crucial to the peaceful coexistence of the human race. Don't they get it? Or do they even care...?"

      Allen Ginsberg, the dusty traveler, is laughing madly in the background, laughing uncontrollably, watching people emerge from the room with specks and wads and welts of elephant dung on their evening attire and in their hair and on their faces and hands.  He breaks into song, accompanied by Tom Waits doing scats in the background, and Leon Redbone playing the throat tromnet:

 

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate

the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar

the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb

and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but

sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden

threads of the craftsman's loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of

beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can-

dle and fell off the bed, and continued along

the floor and down the hall and ended fainting

on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and

come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling

in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning

but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun

rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked

in the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad

stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these

poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy

to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls

in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'

rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with

gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet-

ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station

solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in

dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and

picked themselves up out of basements hung

over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third

Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-

ment offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on

the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the

East River to open to a room full of steamheat

and opium, who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment

cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime

blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall

be crowned with laurel in oblivion...

 

They file back into the main part of the gallery.

      Madelaine Murray-O'Hare and Gentleman Jim are seen, again, being led away by Fanti's police force, taken back down into the basement, this time both begging for mercy.  The elephant dung stench carries over into the main gallery space.

      "We are going to try to regain our footing after this interruption," Hedda says.  "I apologize for this disturbance.  Let's move on to the twenty-seventh piece in this show.  We have put in an order for some gas masks in case the stench next door gets too great.  We hope you will stay with us; and forgive us for this...miscalculation...."

      The magician sidles up to Crossmann, speaking again in the old woman's voice: "Appearing with every Manvantara as Narayan, or Swayambhuva (the Self-Existent), and penetrating into the Mundane Egg, it emerges from it at the end of the divine incubation as Brahma or Prajapati, a progenitor of the future Universe into which he expands.  He is Purusha (spirit), but he is also Prakriti (matter). Therefore it is only after separating himself into two halves -- Brahma-Vach (the female) and Brahma-Viraj (the male), that the Prajapati becomes the male Brahma.  Brahma separating his body into male and female, the latter the female Vach, in whom he creates Viraj.  It is purely astronomical, mathematical, and pre-eminently metaphysical: the Male element in Nature (personified by the male deities and Logoi -- Viraj, or Brahma; Horus, or Osiris, etc., etc.) is born through, not from, an immaculate source, personified by the 'Mother'; because that Male having a Mother cannot have a 'Father' -- the abstract Deity being sexless, and not even a Being but Be-ness, or Life itself...."

 

"Battling the smell of elephant dung is not easy, I know," Hedda says.  "But it should get better as we move to this end of the museum.  This is Michael Crossmann's twenty-seventh piece in the show; and it is entitled 'The Young Girl'.  It is a colored pencil drawing on black paper.  And it is, again, primitive in tone, but complex in execution...."

      Some of Lola's lieutenants are now passing our small clear plastic breathing mechanisms to the guests.  People put the gas masks on fairly quickly, plastic hood over the mouth and nose, oxygen generator attached to the belt.

      Hedda puts her mask in place, then moves it down around her neck when she wishes to speak.

      "I think this oeuvre is delightful, in fact," Hedda continues.  "I see in it, a young girl who is much more than that: a girl, a woman, an animal; her dress, with its wonderful patchwork, seems to have hidden in it the face of a man who is also a bull.  Do you see the bull's horns coming out of the dress?  The young girl has elements of both the bull and the cow in her own face; and she has elements of the bull in her dress..."

 

 

                       

 

                                                            THE YOUNG GIRL

 

"I believe it is the father's face in the dress, wearing the horns," Charlie Rose opines.  "Michael Crossmann is very aware of the archetypal love tension inherent in the Oedipus and Electra complexes well known to modern psychiatry.  There is an undeniable sexual awakening in the young girl -- note the coquetry of her feet.  I'm sure this is Crossmann's daughter, Christina...."

      Charlie Rose has turned down the gas mask.

      "You don't want a gas mask, Charlie?" Geraldo Rivera calls out.

      "No, If I have to sniff....excrement for the sake of art," Charlie responds, "I'm willing to do it...."

      The audience applauds.

      A few others take their gas masks off: Rod Steiger, Martin Sheen, Norman Mailer.  Ted Kennedy takes his off, but then puts it right back on, fighting off a rush of offal air.

      "Are you saying Crossmann abused his daughter?" Sally Jessie Raphael calls from the audience, lowering her gas mask for a moment, then raising it up again.

      "I'm speaking of archetypes," Charlie Rose responds.  "His artwork is, in fact, about archetypes.  Crossmann is married; he makes love with his wife; he establishes himself as a man of means for his family; his daughter is born..."

      "But you suggested he molested his daughter," Jerry Springer seconds Sally Jesse.  "We would like to hear more about this.  Whether he molested her in fact or just in his mind -- the public has a right to know everything the man has thought.  And since an artist is fool enough to show us everything he thinks, everything he desires, I believe his artwork is part of the public record..."

      Springer puts his gas mask back up.

      "This drawing is about Crossmann's love for his daughter," Rose says, "and also about his attraction to young girls, who are innocent and fresh..."

      "We know about his illicit love for a young girl that should have landed him in prison," Gloria Steinem calls out, lowring her gas mask.  "And here she is, in the flesh..."

      Standing next to Gloria Steinem is a sexy young brunette in a yellow dress.  He hair is pulled back, exposing her proud forehead and her plump rouge lips.

      "Isn't this drawing also about this young woman?" Oprah cries out, claiming victory in her tone.

      "Not directly," Crossmann replies.  "It is not a portrait of Sophie."

      "Symbolically, I mean?" Oprah responds.

      "Perhaps.  Symbolically it is about all beautiful young girls and what a temptation they are to older men," Crossmann replies.

      Sophie points to a whitish stain on the left shoulder of her dress.

      "We are going to get a dna test done ont his dress," Oprah cries out.  "If we prove it is yours, you will be sent up for fifteen years for statutory rape...!"

      Columbo moves over to Sophie Tucker.  He looks at the stain.

      He lowers his gas mask.  "That stains pretty old," Columbo says.  "It looks like cocaine to me.  I'm not sure what cocaine would be doing on a young girl's shoulder..."

      "It's not cocaine, you idiot!" Jane Fonda cries.  "I'm semen.  He forced this young girl to perform oral sex on him.  He said he was going to fail her if she did not...!"

      "No, he didn't," Sophie says.  "I wanted to do it.  I liked doing it.  It tasted good...!"

      "We want that dress!" Oprah cries.

      "It's my dress!" Sophie replies.  "It's not his semen, anyway.  I had it dry cleaned.  This semen belongs to John Preston...!"

      "She's covering for him!" Jane Fonda cries.  "Get the dress...!"

      Oprah and Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem grab at Sophie, trying to rip off her dress.  Everyone else just watches, shocked.  Sophies fights them off, pulling down their gas masks.  They have to stop fighting Sophie in order to get the gas masks back in place.  The smell is awful.  Finally, the tear the dress off the young girl's body.  She is standing in the museum, under the ambient lighting in a yellow brain and yellow panties, dark nylons and yellow-tan pumps.  She has a beautiful teenage body, tight in the stomach, breasts pulsing out of the brasierre; her public hair is slightly visible through the transparent yellow panties.  The men in the audience, and many of the women also, admire Sophie's beauty, all remembering when they too were young.

      Columbo steps forward, wrapping the trembling young woman in his old trench-coat.  He leads her out of the museum.

      Oprah and Jane Fonda pass the yellow dress off to a runner who sprints with the prize out of the museum, apparently toward a local lab for identification  of dna.

      "This will be your swan song, Crossmann!" Jane Fonda cries.  "You will no longer be allowed to seduce the American public!  We know what you really are: a molestor, a seducer, a traitor to the struggle...!"

      Jane Fonda gives a power salute, a clenched right hand lifted into the sky.  A few more go up.  The Mayor's wife; Callista Flockhart; Angela Davis; Joan Baez.

      "Anachronisms!" a man in a three-piece business suit says, shaking his head.  It is Jerry Rubin.

      "Sell out!" Angela Davis cries at Rubin. 

      "Commie fraud!" Rubin responds.

      "The capitalistic system has ground the black man down, ground him in to the dust!" Angela Davis cries out.

      "Right on!" Jane Fonda cries.

      "The capitalistic system is racist and concentrates power in thee hands of the few, to the detriment of the proletariat which struggles for justice in a bourgeois...."

      But Angela can't finish.  She puts her gas mask back over her mouth and gulps for clear air.

      Everyone starts to laugh.

      "Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar," the young woman in the chaertreuse downy duck costume begins to sing.  But then she has to put up her gas mask too.

      "Did he or did he not molest his child?" Jerry Springer asks.

      "We are all guilty of molesting our daughters," Bill Moyers says.  "Where there is one daughter in the world who has been molested by her father, then every father is guilty of the crime.  Until we make the world safe for every daughter in this world, then, yes, we are all guilty, Michael Crossmann is guilty of this crime; I am guilty too..."

      "By that logic," Woody Allen reponds, pulling down his gas mask, "Bill Clinton is guity of molesting Chelsea..."

      "You're a fine one to talk!" Bill Moyers reponds.

      "No one is really to blame," Ralph Nader comes in, between gulps for fresh air.  "Except for the chemical companies, Dow Chemical, Dupont, which afflict the world populace with poisonous chemicals, all for the sake of profit, uisng us as their guinea pigs which distort our values and turn all men into potential daughter-molesters...."

      "Down With Dow, Down With Dupont!" a group of Green Party members begin chanting.  "They molest their daughters for profit!  Confiscate their property and redistribte it to the masses...!"

      "Mister Crossmann, did you have sex with your daughter?" Montel Williams demands.

      "We have the results to an interesting poll we have taken tonight, in the last ten minutes, in fact," Dan Rather comes in, lowering his mask.  "A poll of American taken tonight -- 2,000 responses, with an error-quotient of 4-6% -- 34% of Americans believe Michael Crossmann did molest his daughter.  Now 73% of women polled believed this.  And of those 73%, 94% of the women said they watched daytime talk shows every day of the week.  Of the same group, 93% of the women polled said they trusted talk show hosts more than their doctors, their priests or minister, or even their own husbands.  Interestingly, of the 34% who responded they believed Michael Crossman had molested his dauther, only 13% of these felt this disqualified Mister Crossmann from being voted the next messiah -- most believed that all men molested their daughters, so this was not a true criteria by which to judge a man's ability to serve the public..."

      "We're more powerful than Jesus," Phil Donahue says with a quaint smile.  "We really govern America now.  We govern America's belief system -- we create Ameerica's belief system.  Perhaps we are the next messiah -- one of us: Geraldo, Oprah or Rosie...."

      Morgan Freeman: "The girl in this painting reminds me of a young African girl.  There is something in this man's art that is definitely connected to the aboriginal, whether it be in America, the American Indians, the Aborigines in Australia, or the black Africans in Africa.  He is a primordial nature, inside of that white German skin....

      "He probably supports the circumcision of the young African women," Alice Walker says.  "That is probably what this drawing is about.  His support of clitoral mutilation is also well-known...."

      The audience grows silent.

      "We see, from the juxtaposition of this painting and the next painting, that there is trouble in the Crossmann household," Charlie Rose says.  "I believe, in terms of the sequence of works in this show, the biography of this show -- I believe this painting represents both Crossmann's love for his own daughter and his experience with the teenage girl at work, Sophie Tucker.  Because the next painting, 'The Diamond-Thief', I think is symbolic of a force stealing from the Crossmann household the love that holds the family together -- the diamon-thief is not literal, but figureative..."

      Hedda lowers her mask.

      "Any other comments?" she asks.  "Well, then let's move on to the next work, number twenty-eight, entitled: 'The Diamond-Thief'..."

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann again, saying in an old woman's voice: "Fohat runs the Manus' (or Dhyan-Chohans') errands, and causes the ideal prototypes to expand from within without -- that is, to cross gradually, on a descending scale, all the planes from the noumenon to the lowest phenomenon, to bloom finally on the last into full objectivity -- the acme of illusion, or the grossest matter...."

 

"This work is a watercolor collage on white paper," Hedda begins.  "Richard, can you take over for me?  I believe the stench is making me ill..."

      Hedda leaves and rushes to the restroom. 

      "The family depicted in this painting," Richard Baker begins, "is an archetypal family, not the Crossmann family per se.  We see on the ground floor, the father with his son; and the son, who is black and white, caught up in the duality, is drinking from a long straw an intoxicating drink.  The father -- who has a war churning in his stomach -- and the son are arguing about the son's drinking problem; upstairs we have the mother, in black and white also -- there is some kind of alliance here between the mother and the son, in their rebellion against the father -- and the mother is sleeping.  Notice the three blue 'z's' circling in her room, cartoon imagery of a person sleeping.  She is dreaming of herself as a ballerina, apparently a dream of what she wanted to become when she was younger.  The ballerina forms below the dreamer -- hence, 'falling' asleep -- in a distinctive red blackground.  Across the hall, in another upstairs room, is a red pear.  The pear is a symbol of the womb of course; the womb is pear-shaped.  But it is also a symbol of the human heart, especially a red pear.  It is also connected, etymologically, to the word 'pyre,' funeral fire.  Also upstairs we have a blue ghost moving in the hallway, passing by an open door, two your daughters near the top of the stairs, one of whom is naked.  And the diamond-thief, himself, who has one diamond in his backpack, has his right hand on the second diamond, and is approaching the third.  The diamonds are large 'X' forms, similar to Crossmann's Figure 8 symbol that appear in his novel as the symbol of the universe, one side of which is white, the other side being dense with white and black script.  Each diamond alternates in its structure, with the white side being, first, at the top, then at the bottom, then back up at the top....  There is a hole, or vortex, in the middle of the drawing from which a thick black line is either appearing or being drawn back, like water through a bathtub drain.  It is impossible to tell whether the thick black line is expanding or contracting..."

 

 

                       

 

                                                THE DIAMOND-THIEF

 

"It says all that?" Michael Douglas responds.

      "Why diamonds?"

      "The diamond governs the birthsign of Taurus -- the Bull, again," Baker replies.  "And we see in all of this obsession with the Bull, from the Matador on, and Venus -- Venus rules the zodiacal house of Taurus -- we see in all of this Michael Crossmann's obsessive love, very personal love, of Leslie Rhoades, the married woman he love and lost back in the mid-1970's....  Leslie Rhoades is the diamond he lost, the diamond some thief (Time? or Custom?) stole from him and ruined his life, sending him into a spiral of despair that resulted in his psychic death and abandoment in an internal Hades from which he emerged a fighting angel..."

      "Do you agree with this analysis, Charlie?" Lola asks, having taken over for Hedda.

      "I believe, at some level, this is more a painting of Leslie Rhoades' house, than it is a painting of Michael Crossmann's," Charlie Rose agrees.  "Leslie Rhoades had ambitions to be a ballerina.  Michael Crossmann even watched her dance in a ballet in Eugene.  So, yes -- I had not thought of this before.  But, now, it seems quite reasonable.  The diamonds being stolen are the memories Leslie Rhoades has of her love affair with Michael Crossmann.  Time is stealing them from her perhaps.  This is, in fact, a pretty elusive painting, and one of my favorites in the show..."

      Crossmann's face seems to drop.

      "It is pretty clear to me that Michael Crossmann still loves Leslie Rhoades," Doctor Joyce Brothers proclaims, putting her gas mask up; then she takes it down again after a strong inhalation.  "That's why he's such a sad man, and so alone today."

      Shocked silence in the museum.

      Oprah says: "Oh, my God.  The man is suffering for love.  He has a broken heart.  This changes everything...!"

      "He was psychotic because of love," Doctor Brothers reasons.  "Like the great romantic poets, he was wounded -- like Dante by his Beatrice.  He could not go on.  He longed for death.  And, so, he sank into the deepest gloom.  Romantic gloom -- for his love was foresaken.  He was abandoned..!"

      A deep sigh runs through the room.

      "We finally see the true Michael Crossmann," Maury Povich says, trying not to breathe.

      "Let's keep moving," Lola says.  "We moved to painting number twenty-nine, 'Marital Strife' -- a painting very reminscent to Picasso..."

      Lola doesn't have and doesn't need a gas mask.  She is tough.  A former marine.

      The Magician sidles down to Crossmann again, leaning over to him, saying: "Fohat, in its various manifestations, is the mysterious link between Mind and Matter, the animating principle electrifying every atom into life.  The spark that hangs from the flame by the finest thread of Fohat.  It journeys through the Seven Worlds of Maya.  It stops in the first, and is a metal and a stone; it passes into the second, and, behold -- a plant; the plant whirls through seven changes and becomes a sacred animal.  From the combined attributes of these, Manu, the thinker, is formed.  Who forms him?  The Seven Lives, and the One Life.  Who completes him?  The Five-Fold Lha or Spirit.  And who perfects the last body?  Fish, Sin and Soma..."

 

"Charlie Rose," Lola says, "you're one of the few people in this room who is not wearing an excrement screen -- so you are clearly willing to talk.  Tell me about this painting.  We have a lot of people bidding on this painting.  And the bids are skyrocketing, in fact.  Many European collectors consider this the finest piece in the show.  It is gouache with India ink on white paper.  What is your take on this...?"

 

 

     

 

                                                MARITAL STRIFE

 

"Well, this is the woman-as-tyrant painting in the show," Charlie says.  "This is a fight between Michael Crossmann and his wife.  And the wife is winning.  She has just torn the arm off her husband; and it lies at her feet.  The husband is bending over in supplication; and who wouldn't -- she has just torn his arm off.  The husband is dressed in green, a green shirt -- and there is a green bird flying past the window.  Clearly, there is identification here: the husband would like to be as free as the bird.  There is also an upside-down man which forms the wife's nose.  One reading of this is that this is the man with whom Michael Crossmann's wife had a long love affair, throughout the entire time Michael and Irene knew one another, before marriage and after, apparently even currently -- Marshall Fenton.  Another theory is that this is Michael Crossmann's brother, William, about whom Irene and Michael Crossmann fought regularly.  She apparently hated Michael Crossmann's brother...."

      "This is Lilith , in action," Moshe Frank responds.

      "You describe the wife as Lilith," Gloria Steinem responds.  "That is meant to be a negative judgment.  But many of us in the Women's Movement admire Lilith..."

      "You know nothing about Lilith!" Moshe Frank replies, angry. 

      "You call any strong woman Lilith," Gloria says.  "Any woman who is sexually independent, you call Lilith..."

      "Lilith is the night monster, the screech owl," Moshe says.  "She is Adam's first wife; and she is the mother of all demons.  She collects semen discarded in masturbation or wet dreams, scraping the semen off unoccupied sheets; she has sex with men while they dream, seeking to give birth to demons...."

      There is silence in the room.

      Heavy breathing inside gas masks.  The audience is aghast.

      The lights in the room flicker -- then go off.

      Screaming in the room. 

      The lights come back on again.

      "You are a child," Moshe Frank says to Gloria Steinem.  "You know nothing about evil.  Lilith is a succubus.   From the hour in which Cain killed Abel, Adam separated himself from his wife, [and] two female spirits came and copulated with him, and he begot spirits and demons which roam in the world. And this should not be difficult for you to understand, for when a man dreams, female spirits come and play with him and get hot from him and thereafter bear those demons which are called the Plagues of Mankind. And they turn into a likeness of men, but they have no hair on their head.... And, in a similar manner, male spirits come to the women of this world who become pregnant from them and give birth to spirits and all of them are called Plagues of Mankind. After 130 years Adam clothed himself in zeal and had union with his wife and begot a son and called his name Seth..."

      "Lilith is the black moon," Steinem cries.  "The independent, sexual woman, the one men fear."

      "Vagina, Vagina, Vagina," the female chorus again sings: Flockhart, Fonda and Betty Freidan.

      "She who murders children," Moshe Frank cries.  "She who is the mother of the demons...!"

      The lights flicker off and on again.

      "Crazy Jew!" Reverend Farrakahn says.  "You know the Jews were behind the slave trade in Africa.  Yes, that is a fact...!"

      "There was slavery in Africa before the Jews arrived there," Woody Allen replies.

      "What?  You shut up, shorty!" Reverend Farrakahn replies.

      "Even today, children and young women are being sold as slaves out of Benin to work as domestic or plantation workers in Gabon in West Africa," Allen continues.

      "That's the white man's fault," Reverend Farrakahn responds. "Everything is the white man's fault.  The slaughter of the Tutsi's by the Hutus -- that was the white man's fault also.  Because the white man came to Africa.  If the white man never would have come to Africa, there would have been no slaughter in Rwanda.  The white devil is to blame for everything..!"

      "That makes it pretty good for you," Allen says.  "If you succeed it's because of your talent.  If you fail, it's someone else's fault..."

      Farrakahn pushes Allen out of the way, and pulls his gas mask back up around his mouth.  One of Farrakahn's lieutenants puts Allen in a half-nelson, and pushes him toward the basement.  Armed black men in black paramilitary costume arrive in the museum, standing guard in each direction, rifles crossed on their chests.

      "The white devils listen to the Jew devils and the world turns to evil," Farrakahn continues.  "Listen to this woman, this Lilith, who stands before you, who tells you about the men whose materialism has brought a plague on the Earth..."

      "I am Lilith!" Gloria Steinem says, lowering her gas mask, stepping forward.  "Lilith am I.  Lilith creates a voice where there was silence; it saves what is good within the patriarchy while transforming what is destructive; it offers scholarship for argument and women's voices for enlightenment; and it does all of this with anger and delight, good writing and good humor...."

      "Screech owl!" Moshe Frank replies. 

      He makes a sign of the cross toward Lilith -- but she laughs at his ineffectual deliverance.

      A small man dressed in medieval clothing carrying an old dusty book appears, opening the book with a flourish, dust flying.  He lowers his gas mask and speaks: "I have compiled the astrological data pertaining to the position of Lilith in the charts of 14 women who I judged to display a 'Lillith character.' This includes women whose powerful sexuality has become a hallmark of their public image, or whose defiance of male hegemony in the personal and public spheres is well known. They are primarily writers, entertainers, feminists, and sex workers. These women were selected from a large database of famous persons for whom reliable birth data were available. In none of the cases was the position of Lilith known to me before selecting the chart for inclusion in the study.An effort to find an equivalent number of charts of women without a 'Lilith character' for comparison was largely unsuccessful. This may attest to the fact that in order to find success and notoriety, women over the last 200 years have had to 'buck the system' in some way. The very fame and notoriety achieved by women in history may be an indication that they do not fit the compliant, dutiful stereotype of AdamÕs second wife.  No one seems to be terribly interested in recording the birth data for Doris Day or June Lockhart, who are two of the few famous women that the author would consider to not have a Lilith character in some sense. This bias, and the failure to find non-Lilith charts should be kept in mind in the following review.  Lilith, as an astrological body, Lilith is rather slow moving, traversing only about 40 degrees of the zodiac per year. Its motion is always direct, so it makes one circuit of the zodiac every 9 years or so, and spends about 9 months in each sign. The number nine is appropriate, considering that the astrological Lilith is one of the foci of the MoonÕs orbit around the earth.  By tabulating the data relevant to the Lilith positions of the women included in this study, we can see where there might be commonalities and patterns that are suggestive of a strong Lilith. One of the factors that emerges that is quite remarkable is that none of the women selected have Lilith in a mutable sign. This alone almost places the sample far enough from the statistical distribution of the general population (where we have every reason to expect that Lilith will be represented in each Quadruplicity with equal frequency over the span of time from which the charts were selected) to achieve statistical significance.  One can see how the bold, proactive energy associated with the Cardinal signs and the persistent, determined energy of the Fixed signs might contribute to a much stronger expression of the revolutionary Lilith attributes than if Lilith were placed in one of the Mutable signs, the energy of which is usually considered to be of a more vacillating, dissipating kind. An analogous situation is seen with Mars in one of the Mutable signs, where there is always a risk of dissipation of MarsÕs energy in trivialities, fantasies, or emotional turmoil...."

      The Astrologer pauses and inhales deeply from his gas mask.

      Then he continues: "Even more remarkable than the lack of Mutable Lilith placements in the charts under consideration is the fact that the placement in Cardinal and Fixed signs is largely linked to whether Lilith is diurnal or nocturnal. In 11 of the 14 cases, when Lilith is below the horizon, she is found in a Fixed sign, and when she is above the horizon, she is found in a Cardinal sign. One problem with looking at a large collection of charts all at once is that it is difficult to interpret the patterns one finds without more detailed analysis of the lives of the people that the charts have been drawn for. I can detect no certain relationship between the Nocturnal/Fixed and Diurnal/Cardinal condition of Lilith and the personalities of the people involved.  It may be significant that in two of the three charts that do not fit the pattern, Lilith does not follow the condition of the sun; that is, she is above the horizon while the sun is below the horizon or vice versa. This is only true in one of the 11 cases that do fit the pattern (Gloria Steinem). Unfortunately, a sample of three is too limited to deduce any generalities. In the other 11 charts, Lilith is found in the same nocturnal or diurnal condition as the sun, which may indicate another condition of her strength. In any case, it seems clear that Lilith is stronger in a Fixed sign when she is also below the horizon and stronger in a Cardinal sign when she is also above the horizon...."

      He pauses to breathe again in his gas mask; then continues: "Another frequent occurrence in these charts is an aspect between Lilith and Mars.  Contacts with Mars, even when they are stress aspects (squares or oppositions), often indicate that a great deal of energy is available to the native for expression of the planet that receives the aspect. Stress aspects between Lilith and Mars, as the planet that most clearly expresses masculine power, may also indicate that a womanÕs independence and sovereignty will more often meet opposition by men, or by male hegemony. Lilith is also often disposited by Mars, that is, in a sign that Mars rules, or in a sign where Mars is exalted. In the case of George Sand, who also has a square between Mars and Lilith, this can be seen in her adoption of male dress and habits, as well as her adoption of a male name (her given name was Amantine Aurore Lucile Dupin). Marlene Dietrich is also famous for occasionally donning menÕs formal dress, and for kissing a woman while dressed as a man in the film Morocco (in 1930). It is a little known fact that this scene was suggested by Dietrich herself, and that she artfully managed to keep the scene from being cut by censors. Like George Sand, DietrichÕs Lilith is disposited by Mars, but she has a sextile between Mars and Lilith rather than a square.  Of course, Dietrich garnered much less calumny from her gender-blurring behavior than Sand did. Women have often found it useful to appropriate masculine symbols of power as a provocative gesture of defiance of the status quo (although in SandÕs case, it was also initially because it increased her chances of selling her literary works to have a male pen name). As with any "negative" aspect, Mars squares will often serve to facilitate oneÕs growth and progress rather than hinder it.  It is interesting to note that all three women who work in the sex trade in some capacity (the last three listed) have aspects between Lilith and Venus, the planet most clearly linked with sexual passion. This is also true of George Sand, who, although not a sex worker, gained a reputation for her daringly explicit portrayal of womenÕs sexuality in her novels Valentine (1832) and Leila (1833).  Rose Kelley, who was of course instrumental in CrowleyÕs reception of the Book of the Law, has Lilith disposited by Venus, in Libra, conjunct the Ascendant (Rose KelleyÕs birth time is rather uncertain, but I have cast it for noon on her day of birth). This may be an important indicator of her office as the first Scarlet Woman, since Libra and its associated Tarot Trump, Adjustment or Justice, is very closely linked with the idea of 'love under will'. The Lilith archetype can also quite satisfactorily be correlated with Babalon, as demonstrated in an excellent essay by Jeffrey Smith..."

      He sucks into his gas mask again.

      The audience is beginning to fidget -- but Farrakahn's honor guard show their weapons to the crowd and they grow rigidly alert again, attentive.

      The Astrologer continues: "The chart of Xaviera Hollander deserves special mention, as it amply illustrates the power of a strongly-placed Lilith. Ms. Hollander is well known as author of the novel The Happy Hooker , and star of the movie 'Pleasure is My Business' (the running time of which is 93 minutes, oddly enough). Ms. Hollander also writes a widely read sex advice column for Penthouse magazine. Ms. HollanderÕs Lilith is placed in Leo in the first house. Leo is a sign frequently associated with sexuality, as is the corresponding fifth house. LilithÕs placement in the first house indicates that Lilith energy is a major component of the nativeÕs personality and basic identity. Ms. HollanderÕs propensity for expressing her Lilith nature in writing is seen in the disposition of Lilith by the Sun, which is placed in Mercury-ruled Gemini, a sign often concerned with communication and teaching. The clearly sexual nature of this Lilith placement is enhanced by LilithÕs conjunction with Venus (to which Mars in Aries is in trine, another indication of powerful and energetic sexuality). Furthermore, Lilith is conjunct both Jupiter, giving the nativeÕs Lilith qualities an expansive and flamboyant quality, and Pluto, the planet of revolutionary social change. Jupiter rules the 6th and 9th houses, and combined with Lilith indicates a desire to educate the public about sexual health and social issues related to sexuality. Pluto in conjunction with Lilith indicates a desire to cast off and revolutionize outmoded sexual mores, but also a strong sexual presence and a secure command of the power inherent in feminine sexuality. While Lilith is not necessarily always an indicator of sexual qualities (although I hope I have made the case that Lilith is an inherently sexual archetype), its influence on the sexual nature of Xaviera HollanderÕs works is considerable....

      "A detailed analysis of the remainder of the charts in the table is beyond the scope of this event. As with any form of astrological delineation, the greatest value will be derived by the native who takes the time to meditate on the archetypes and symbols contained in their own birth chart rather than relying on standard formulations in books. Those who are interested in studying Lilith in their own birth chart should obtain a copy of the astrological calculation program Astrolog.  Astrolog, which was written by Walter Pullen is not only one of the most versatile and useful astrology programs available, but it is also free. Astrolog will calculate the position of Lilith as long as the program is set to use ephemeris files rather than its own calculation algorithm.  Those who are interesting in investigating charts earlier in this century or before should therefore also download the additional ephemeris files available at WalterÕs website.  From ancient Jewish folklore to modern astrological practice, the Lilith archetype, by its very durability, has proven its value in helping us understand our own inner landscapes.  One of the lessons that Lilith teaches is that what we reject or see as ugly in ourselves is much less daunting when we have the courage and will to examine it in the light of day.  Just as Lilith has been transformed historically from the child-slaughtering demoness of the Alphabet of Ben-Sira into an image of affirmation, we have the ability to transform our inner demons into images of power...."

      "This age has learned to transform child murder into a positive," Moshe Frank cries -- "hence, abortion, too, is considered good by the followers of Lilith...!"

      "Shut that Jew up!" Farrakahn commands.

      The military guards move to silence Moshe Frank.

      "Wait!" Jerry Falwell calls to the Astrologer: "Tell us the names of these 14 women."  Falwell has a notepad in his hand and he is ready to take down names.

      "Well, these are 14 women I found, but there are many more," the Astrologer replies: "George Sand, Rose Kelly, Mae West, Marlene Deitrich, Anais Nin, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Gloria Steinem, Sophia Loren..."

      "No!  Not Sophia Loren!" Falwell moans.

      "Germaine Greer, Madonna Ciccone, Content Love Knowles, Magdalene Matrix, and Xavier Hollander."

      Falwell turns to Tammy Baker: "Who the hell is Content Love Knowles and Magdalene Matrix...?"

      "I bbbobbbbia," Tammy replies, painting her fingernails, breathing heavily into her gas mask.

      "What did you say?" Jerry asks.

      She lowers her gas mask: "I have no idea."

      Jerry turns away from Tammy, to Jesse Helms.

      "Get the faggots ready!" Falwell says,

      "Faggots?  In here?" Helms asks.  "Who?"

      "No!  Fire!  Pyres...!" Falwell explains.

      "Pears?" Helms asks.  "Pies?  What kind of pies...?"

      "Pyre!  Fire!  Light the stakes, you idiot!  Bonfire for the witches!" Jerry explains.

      Jesse Helms doesn't get it.

      Falwell laughs a bit.

      Falwell turns to Jack Van Impe and his wife, the cute blonde with the speech impediment: "We have the names!  Let's start the fire!  It's gonna be hotter than a witch's tit -- please excuse my French...!"

      Van Impe's wife, Rexella, is laughing.  She loves Jerry Falwell's sense of humor.

      Jerry looks her down too.  Looking at her breasts in her white silk blouse.

      His look makes her feel all yummy inside.

      "Alright.  All Jews in this room are under house arrest!" Reverend Farrakahn shouts.  "We start with the little heimy standing up there by Crossmann...!"

      "Crossmann is a Jew too!" the woman wearing the chartreuse downy duck costume cries out.

      The crowd goes silent.

      "Crossmann!  Are you a Jew?" Farrakahn asks.  "I thought he was from Wyoming...!"

      "Lilith is a Jew!" Moshe Frank calls.

      "What?" Farrakahn is aghast.  "No, she can't be!  She's on our side!  Are you a Jew, Lilith...?"

      "No, I am not," Lilith says.  Confused.  Lowering her eyes.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, saying in his own voice: "This is only one of your nightmares, friend.  When I clap my hands, they will all be gone."

      The Magician claps his hands.

      The lights go off for almost a minute; then they come back on again.

      Everything has changed.

      Farrakahn is gone.  The men in the black uniforms carrying machine guns are gone.  The gas masks are gone.  The smell of elephant dung is gone.

     

Dominic Rosetti signals Lola a bid for 'Marital Strife'.  Florian Trummer tops that bid.  Bill Gates tops that bid.

      "Merde!" says Olivia Hussey, who is bidding for an unknown French collector.  "Where the hell does he come from!  We can't keep up with him...!"

      A man standing next to her is talking in French on a cellular phone, apparently to the collector in Paris.

      Rosetti decides to compete.  He riases his bid.

      Sergei Volkov joins the bidding.  He is a tough-looking Russian in a long-black coat with a fur collar.

      Angela Salm, bidding for another European collector.

      Bill Gates again.

      Jacob Fritz, bidding for an anonymous American collector, reputed to be Ted Turner.

      Jane Fonda is infuriated seeing Jacob Fritz bidding on the work.

      She makes a call on her own cellular phone, trying to reach Ted Turner.  He is not available.

      "Other bidders," Hedda asks.

      Abdullah Nasser's agent, Roscoe Tulley, bids.

      Bill Gates again.

      The bidding goes on.

      Crossmann notices another young woman dressed as a downy duck -- but this one is blue.  And another, carrying a guitary, dressed in a copper downy duck costume.

      Crossmann looks across the room.  His eyes meet Allen Ginsburg. 

      Ginsburg smiles; he nods to Waits and Mister Thromnet.

      Ginsburg creates a background noise of white Jewish-beat rap:

 

"who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested

the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their

pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the

bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,

who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned

with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded

by orange crates of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty

incantations which in the yellow morning were

stanzas of gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht

& tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot

for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks

fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess-

fully, gave up and were forced to open antique

stores where they thought they were growing

old and cried, who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits

on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse

& the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments

of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the

fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis-

ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the

drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality..."

 

The woman in the copper-colored downy duck costume, the one carrying a guitar, breaks into song:

 

"Hey Jack Kerouac, I think of your mother

And the tears she cried, she cried for none other

Than her little boy lost in a little world he hated

And that dared to drag him down -- her little boy courageous.

Who chose his words from mouths of babes who got lost in the wood.

Hip flask slinging madman, steaming cafe flirts,

They spoke through you.

 

Hey Jack, now for the tricky part,

When you were the brightest star who were the shadows?

Of the San Francisco beat boys you were the favorite.

Now they sit and rattle their bones and think of their blood-stoned days.

You chose your words from mouths of babes who got lost in the wood.

The hip flask slinging madman, steaming cafe flirts,

In Chinatown, howling at night.

 

Allen baby, why so jaded?

Have the boys all grown up -- and their beauty faded?

Billy, what a saint they've made you,

Just like Mary down in Mexico on All Souls' Day.

 

You chose your words from mouths of babes who got lost in the wood.

Cool junk booting madmen, street-minded girls

In Harlem howling at night.

What a tear stained shock of the world,

You've gone away without saying goodbye...."

 

Crossmann watches the blue duck wander away. 

      Natalie Merchant.  He admires her talent.  She must be a Catholic girl.  There is something about her -- something very Catholic.

      He turns to Hedda.

      The bidding continues.

      Masanori Yamada has joined the bidding.

      "How high is Gates willing to go?" Trump asks Mailer.

      "Well, no one can stay with him if he decides he really wants it," Mailer replies.

      Douglas Cramer the collector from Los Angeles, bids.

      Bill Gates counters.  Gates, of course, does his own bidding.

      Lola Fanti is hideous with glee.  She turns to Crossmann and whispers: "An empire!  We are building you an empire...!"

      David Geffen makes a bid.

      Yamada counters.

      The woman in the blue downy duck costume sidles up to Jerry Falwell and whispers in his ear: "Penis, penis, penis, penis, cocksucker. Oops. Even my spellchecker doesn't recognize cocksucker - I guess it's not in Microsoft Word's internal dictionary. It should be in there, because cocksucking is here to stay. It's a whole lot of fun and when done right, gives great pleasure to all parties involved. I love to suck cock. And so do many of the adults I know - and some of the ones who aren't so sure if they want to give mouth massage to another's diamond rod are happy to be on the receiving end. If they're not a cocksucker, then perhaps they're a yoni nibbler. Or a vulva  licker. Or maybe just an expert kisser...."

      She smiles at Reverend Falwell; then she wanders away, shaking her happy tail.

      "That's her," Monica Lewinsky says.  She has just moved in to the crowd, with her date, Mickey Rooney.  They have been watching everything from the back of the room.

      "Who?" Falwell asks.

      "The one you asked about: Courtney Love," Monica says.

      "No, not Courtney Love," Mickey Rooney corrects her.  "One of the Liliths: Content Love Knowles..."

      "Oh, that's right," Monica agrees.

      "Did you hear what she was saying to me?" Falwell asks Mickey Rooney.

      "Well, it's a sick society now, reverend.  What can I say," Rooney says.  "Everyone's trying to shock the middle-class.  It's a kind of game.  Queers and transvestites and transexuals and all.  Child-molestors.  Buggers.  Muff-divers.  You have to be weird to get on tv today.  And the weirder the better.  The news wants weird.  That's what sells shows.  Murder, rape, fear, perversion.  That's what sells.  Plus, in college now, the women are taught that they have to hate men, that men are the oppressors; and that it's a war out there, between men and women.  That's what they teach my granddaughter.  She comes home from college hating men..."

      "Men have been pretty rotten to women, Mickey!" Monica says.  "You've got to admit that!  Women are treated like second-class citizens.  Men are rapists; and what about the glass ceiling.  Women are treated like the black men.  They have been a man's property for many centuries.  We're just not taking it any longer...!"

      "Ok, calm down, dear," Mickey says. 

      He turns to Falwell.  "I don't want to upset her tonight.  I'm hoping to get some Millennium Candy after midnight...."

 

Trummer bids again, touching his nose.

      Geffen bids, touching his pen.

      Gates touches the temples of his glasses.

      Volkov.

      Angela Salm.

      Charles Saatchi's man, Edwin Carver, signal's Saatchi's bid.

      Geffen.

      Gates.

      Lola touches her breasts in ecstacy, running her left hand over her right breast, hoping no one is watching.

      Dana Scully is watching.  Her mouth opens a bit.

      Crossmann notices the moisture on her upper lip.  The lip almost twitches.

      Geffen.

      Gates.

      Ted Kennedy scratches his crotch unconsciously.

      "Was that a bid, Senator?" Hedda asks.

      "No, I'm sorry.  No."

      "I want it!" Gates says quietly.  "My wife wants it for our house."

      Saatchi bids.

      Geffen folds.

      Gates ups the bid.

      Edwin Carver is talking on his cell phone.

      Saatchi bids.

      Gates bids again.

      Carver puts away his phone.

      The painting belongs to Bill Gates.

     

Lola lets out a deep-throated war hoop, throwing her right fist in the air.  Then she smiles, and hurries off to the right, a look of urgency in her eye.

      "I need to use the ladies' room," Scully tells Mulder, hurrying off to the right, following Lola.

      Mulder grabs Scully by the arm.  He whispers to her: "Don't forget to wear a mouth-condom.  There's a lot of bacteria baking in warm places these days..."

      No one else hears Fox Mulder.

      Everyone is applauding the major sale.

      "Excellent," Hedda says.  "Excellent.  You've made a wonderful purchase, Mister Gates."

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, speaking in the voice of the old Russian woman: "Fohat, being one of the most, if not the most important character in esoteric Cosmogony, should be minutely described. As in the oldest Grecian Cosmogony, differing widely from the later mythology, Eros is the third person in the primeval trinity: Chaos, Gaea, Eros -- answering to the Kabalistic En-Soph (for Chaos is SPACE, "void") the Boundless ALL, Shekinah and the Ancient of Days, or the Holy Ghost.  So Fohat is one thing in the yet unmanifested Universe and another in the phenomenal and Cosmic World.  In the latter, he is that Occult, electric, vital power, which, under the Will of the Creative Logos, unites and brings together all forms, giving them the first impulse which becomes in time law. But in the unmanifested Universe, Fohat is no more this than Eros is the later brilliant winged Cupid, or LOVE.  Fohat has naught to do with Kosmos yet, since Kosmos is not born, and the gods still sleep in the bosom of 'Father-Mother'.  He is an abstract philosophical idea. He produces nothing yet by himself; he is simply that potential creative power in virtue of whose action the NOUMENON of all future phenomena divides, so to speak, but to reunite in a mystic supersensuous act, and emit the creative ray.  When the "Divine 'Son' breaks forth, then Fohat becomes the propelling force, the active Power which causes the ONE to become TWO and THREE -- on the Cosmic plane of manifestation. The triple One differentiates into the many, and then Fohat is transformed into that force which brings together the elemental atoms and makes them aggregate and combine.  We find an echo of this primeval teaching  in early Greek mythology.  Erebos and Nux are born out of Chaos, and, under the action of Eros, give birth in their turn to Ether and Hemera, the light of the superior and the light of the inferior or terrestrial regions. Darkness generates light. See in the Puranas Brahma's 'Will' or desire to create; and in the Phoenician Cosmogony of Sanchoniathon the doctrine that Desire, [pothos], is the principle of creation...."

 

"I think we should move on to number thirty," Hedda says.  "We don't want to lose momentum.  The next painting, in many ways, is a come-down for me.  From the Picasso-like masterpiece, 'Marital Strife', we now face a grim piece that seems unfinished, in fact.  I realize it is not unfinished.  But it is a bit austere -- again, anti-modern: primal.  The title is 'The Grim Reaper'.  Charlie, tell us what this is all about..."

 

                       

 

                                                            THE GRIM REAPER

 

"I'm not sure it's going to be easy to follow that last scene," Charlie responds.  "This is the second appearance of death in this exhibit.  The first, of course, was 'Mister Death' -- which, I surmise, represented, at least in this exhibit, the death of Michael Crossmann's father, Jake -- and his subsequent descent into depreseeion and chaos, death.  This second apperance death represents, in the life of Michael Crossmann, the incident at Southwest Eugene High School, where three teenage boys assaulted the school, killing fellow studeents and teachers, wounding many others.  Michael Crossman, himself, is the grim reaper in this painting..."

      "Your insistence on biography to approach a painting I believe to be a fallacy," Reggie Lyons replies.  "There is much more to this painting than merely biography...."

      "Such as?" Rose asks.

      "Color, line, contour, meaning -- and meaning in the context of the work, not in the context of this show," Reggie insists.

      "I believe Charlie understands that," Hedda says.  "But he has mad a very unique understanding -- he has made a viable -- what I consider viable -- understanding of the unique construction Michael Crossmann has given this show.  Crossmann has built this show, thematically, into a story -- a story of his life.  I have asked Charlie to elucidate this structure.  I have never heard Charlie claim that this is the only reading of this show sich is viable..."

"We haven't heard the complete story about that day in the boiler room," Oprah says.  "I, for one, would like to hear the truth about what happened down there."

      "This man has been exonerated by a jury of his peers," Charlie Rose defends Crossmann.

      "Yes -- but I would like to know what really happened," Oprah insists.

      Crossmann notices that the four skinheads have become four faces he recognizes: John Preston, Mike Grubb, David McCulloch and Ted Lawson.

      They smile at Crossmann.

      Preston yells to Crossmann: "You'd better pass out now -- so they can't hold your responsible for this...!"

      The other three skinheads begin to laugh.

      Before long, everyone in the room is laughing, everyone except Oprah -- who is livid.

      "I knew it!  I knew you were guilty!" Oprah cries.  "You murdered those...children...!"

      "Those murderers, you mean!" Donald Trump says.

      "Those racist murderers!" Alice Walker adds.  "He's a hero for doing that, as far as I'm concerned...!"

     

"We're getting off-track here," Hedda cries.  "Reggie, you began to talk about line and color..."

      "Color is a racist conception!" a voice comes out of the audience.  Another British accent.

      "Excuse me!" Hedda replies.

      "If you read his novel, you'd see that racism is implied in the structure of color," the man continues.

      "And you are?" Hedda asks.

      "My name is David Batchelor," the man replies.  "I am an artist; and an author of the book, Chromophobia, which is a meditation on the racism inherent in the color-structure..."

      "Is that 'Chromophobia' as in 'homophobia'?" Hedda asks.

      "Yes," Mister Batchelor replies.  "And the two words are clearly connected. In the male-dominated philosophy behind Western civilization, color is associated with being foreign, feminine, oriental, primitive, infantile, vulgar, queer, irrational, even pathological.  Our view is that white is purity; and color is a corruption of that purity.  Crossmann suggested this in his novel, too -- with his color tree, the hierarchy of values.  He suggests that there is white light at the top of the tree.  From this pure light are born the three primary, pure colors.  But after this comes the corrupted shades, the secondaries, formed from two colors, and then the tertiaries, formed from three.  Then, of course, black, formed from all the colors..."

      "And your point is?" Hedda asks.

      "Crossmann talks about the color tree, which is inherently racist," Batchelor says.  "But the color wheel tells us a different story.  The color wheel is a circle; it is more...generous, more democratic.  There is no such thing as a hierarchy of color -- there are only random color events.  All colors are, in fact, equal...."

      No one knows how to respond.

      "There is a kind of white," Batchelor continues, "that is more than white.  There is a kind of white that repels everything that is inferior to it -- and that is almost everything....  There is a kind of white that is not created by bleach, but is itself bleach.  This white is an aggressive white, doing its work on everything around it; and nothing escapes...."

      "Are you saying white is only for reactionaries, supremacists?" the Donald asks.

      "Yes.  White is for the rich; color is for the rest of us, the real people," Batchelor replies.

      "I have a white house," Trump replies.

      "Yes, the White House -- with a white interior, I'd bet!" Batchelor accuses.

      "Yes, in fact."

      "I knew it!" Batchelor says.  "Rich autocrat!  Very high maintenance, this white...!"

      "Yes, in some ways," Donald Trump admits.

      "In a lot of ways," the Donald's wife adds, laughing.

      "Another voice from the anti-universe," Richard Baker intones to Crossmann.

      "I have read your book, with much admiration," Truman addresses Batchelor, stepping forward into the light.  "But I did have one problem with your assertion that there is no name for the color between green and yellow.  Of course there is: it's chartreuse.  I have seen a mad young woman here tonight, wandering about in, of all things, a downy chartreuse duck costume.  You should have a look a this young man.  She is wearing your color: chartreuse..."

      The audience laughs nervously.

      "Well," Hedda says, "are we back to this painting yet?"

      "I'm not sure what the implications of this color theory, this man's commentary, are, in terms of Michael Crossmann's painting -- for he uses white very rarely," Xavier Rubenstein questions.  "Is this man saying that Michael Crossmann is a racist, because he uses white in his paintings?  Because, in fact, he uses white very rarely....  He seems to have a love affair with color -- Crossmann does..."

      "I agree with this," Morgan Freeman.  "If you had brought me here to this exhibit -- and had allowed me to skip the elephant dung tossing contest next door, and the phtography exhibit on the first floor showing children in naked postures -- and I had not known who Michael Crossmann was before I came: I would say that Michael Crossmann, judging from the work alone, was probably black or at least part black..."

      There is a hard silence.

      "Could you explain why?" Hedda asks.

      "The words 'primordial' and 'aboriginal' have come up over and over again tonight," Freeman replies.  "Primordial and aboriginal each speaks about the origins of the race.  Crossmann is obsessed about the origins of the race, the human race.  'First Family, 'Night Warrior, 'Lovers', 'Young Girl', 'Old Man Reflecting on His Youth' -- these feel, to me, African in origin, ab-original.  With all this screaming about race, race, race: my view of this exhibit is that this exhibit is about the entire history of the human race.  There are people in this exhibit of every color.  I believe Crossmann probably has some black blood.  How could he create these kinds of pictures and not have some black blood...?"

      "What are you saying, Morgan?" Oprah asks.  "This man..."

      "His whole novel is about being Everyman," Freeman replies.  "This exhibit is about Everyman.  You distrust him because he's not a liberal -- not because he's white.  You have more white friends that black friends, Oprah.  White people love you as much as black people do.  You hate him for political reasons, not racial reasons.  And he probably doesn't trust you for the same reasons...."

      "What are you saying?" Oprah asks.

      "Some whites are liberal and some are conservative," Morgan Freeman responds.  "Some Asians are liberal and some are conservative.  Some Mexicans are liberal and some are conservative.  Why are American blacks the only group which is not allowed to be both conservative and liberal?  Because the only issue we think about is race.  We don't have a spectrum of concerns.  The only way we define ourselves as black people against or oppressed by whites.  That's why we wanted to persecute Clarence Thomas in public.  That's why we accuse him of being white.  Anyone who's not the same political persuasion is a traitor.  But life is more complex than this...."

      "It's because of our history in this country," Oprah explains.

      "Partly, yes.  But is every liberal white person really a black person?" Freeman asks.  "Are conservative black people really white -- or just conservatives with a black skin...?"

      "I don't understand where this is going?" Oprah asks.  "You said he was really a black person -- Crossmann.  Are you standing by that...?"

      "I don't know," Freeman replies.  "When I look at a few of his paintings, I think he might be....  The human genome map tells us that there is almost no difference between any of us, physically -- less than one-half of one percent.  We all come from the same root -- the primordial, ab-original root.  It is clear to me that Michael Crossmann is, in fact, seeking a common root.  There is no doubt that his book, with all its struggles, and with its resultant nationalism and embrace of his own people -- the book is, in fact, a map of the common root.  It is a paradox: it embraces the common root and it embraces the uncommon root at the same time.  And so do his paintings, in my humble opinion..."

      "Is he saying Crossmann's black," Donald Trump asks.

      "I don't buy that," Alice Walker says.

      "Is there any proof of this?" Doctor Himmelmann aks.

      Crossmann is shocked to see Doctor Himmelmann in public.

      "Well, I don't have any proof," Freeman says.  "Just a hunch, a feeling."

      "None of us know about our past really," Woody Allen says.  "I mean, there are woodpiles everywhere, all over the globe.  Who's to say that our own ancestors didn't spend quite a bit of time in a woodshed -- or that our mom's may have had an occasion to carry some wood back to the house on a cold night..."

      "Do you hear that," one of the skinhead says to his friends.  "Crossmann's a nigger.  Crossmann's a nigger...!"

      "I don't understand what all this has to do with the way the man develops line and contour," Reggie Lyons says.  "You Americans, with your obsession with race -- what is it all about, I wonder..."

      "We're not going to solve this tonight," Hedda says.  "Unless Michael Crossmann has something to tell us that we're not expecting.  Charlie, you say this drawing is..."

      "I say it 'represents', in this story he has constructed thematically tonight, the shooting at the high school," Charlie Rose corrects Hedda.  "It sin't about that experience.  The drawing isn't about that experience..."

      "So, what comes next then?" Hedda asks.  "We have the murders, the executions, the trial.  That brings us pretty much up to the present..."

      "Exactly," Charlie Rose agrees.  "This is where it gets really interesting..."

      The Magician sidles down to Crossmann.  He is dressed in a black shawl, like the old Russian woman.  He says: "She got tired.  She had to go home."

      Crossmann laughs at this.  "Mussorgsky," Crossmann says.

      "Steps on the floor," the Magician replies.

      "Is there music in your shoes?" Crossmann asks.

      "Hypothetical music," the Magician replies.

 

"This one, number thirty-one, is 'New Year's Celebration'," Hedda says.  "Like tonight."

      "Precisely," Charlie Rose says.  "Precisely.  This painting, or drawing, whatever you want to call it -- it brings us up to the present."

 

     

 

                                                NEW YEAR'S CELEBRATION

 

"I don't get it," Senator Kennedy says.

      "Note the androgynous face," Moshe Frank replies.

      "Also note the flaccid penis on the end of the celebration instrument," Gloria Steinem notes.

      "This is tonight -- yes!" Columbo says.  He is back.  Wearing his trenchcoat again.  "I think I can follow all that..."

      "See the strong white presence in this piece," David Batchelor calls out.

      Reggie Lyons is checking the band-aid over his eye, trying to see if the wound is still bleeding.

      "It looks like some kind of musical instrument, with a trumpet on one end," Doctor Brothers suggests.

      Xavier Rubenstein looks at his watch.

      "I need to go over to my show," Jerry Springer announces.  "I'll see you over at the studio, Mister Crossmann...!"

      Allen Ginsburg bounds through the room enjoying the moment of silence -- and cries:

 

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge -- this actually hap-

pened -- and walked away unknown and forgotten

into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley

ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of

the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas-

saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,

danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed

phonograph records of nostalgic European

1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and

threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans

in their ears and the blast of colossal steam whistles

 

The woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume appears next to Ginsburg, frightening him.  He hurries away.

      "Warhol!  Is that you?" she yells at Crossmann.

      "Not recently," Michael Crossmann replies.

      She wanders away, muttering to herself.

      "Any more comments on this piece?" Hedda asks.

      "This would be nice in lacquer," Henrietta Beach adds.

      "Let's move on then, in to the future, if you will," Hedda says.

      The crowd is beginning to thin out.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, dressed all in red now, mimicking Mae West.  She says: "Are you going to tell us about the 32 steps...?"

      "The Hitchcock movie?" Crossmann asks.

      "No.  The mystical letters and numbers," the Magician replies.  "And youf friend, Moshe, is here to help you.

 

"The next painting, number thirty-two, is entitled 'Hailing a Taxi at Night'," Hedda says.  "Charlie, what do you make of this...?"

 

 

                       

 

                                                HAILING A TAXI AT NIGHT

 

"I think it has something to do with me," a voice comes from the back of the audience.

      It is a taxi-cab driver, the one with the mohawk haircut -- Henry Krinkle.

      "He took a ride with me earlier tonight," Krinkle says.  "I took him uptown earlier.  This weird painting, according to what old Charlie has been saying, this painting is probably about that taxi ride tonight..."

      "This is insane," Reggie Lyons responds.  "You Americans!  This experience has the intellectual foundation of a mud wrestling contest...!"

      "Put a cork in it, Reggie," Richard Baker warns threateningly. 

      "So, what comes next, Charlie?" Hedda asks.

      "Well, I don't know," Charlie Rose responds.

      "We are moving back into the mystical," Pete Hamil says.  "The future is, well, the future.  We don't really know anymore..."

      The crowd is thinning even more.

      "Number thirty-three is entitled..." Hedda begins.

      "The Scourging at the Pillar," the Magician cries.

      Crossmann notices the woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume again, moving in and out of the audience.

      "Let's move on to number thirty-three then," Hedda says.

 

                                   

              

                                                            THE SCOURGING AT THE PILLAR

 

 

"Charlie, or anyone for that matter," Hedda says.  "Who wants to handle this one...?"

      The collectors have all left the museum.

      "This reminds me, in one sense at least," Morgan Freeman begins, "of the drawing 'The Re-Birth of America'.  That drawing showed an experience emanating out of an organ, a womb.  This drawing shows an experience emanating within, in a sense, another organ -- a heart..."

      "A sacred heart," Natalie Merchant suggests.

      "This is the scourging of Christ," Jerry Falwell cries out.  "Crossmann clearly sees himself as Christ.  It's blasphemous -- but it's pretty obvious.  In his book, he claims...!"

      "Yes, we know!" Hedda snaps.  "We want to know the implications for this man's future....!"

      "I don't think it holds any implications for his future!" Falwell snaps back.  "The man is loony tunes, he's a cracked melon, he's a broken record...!"

      "This is some kind of image of crucifixion and resurrection," Charlie Rose responds.  "Resurrection, because of the bird, a symbol of Easter..."

      "I don't know if I'm the only one seeing this," Senator Kennedy says, "But, while I do see the human heart in the drawing, I also see a woman's breast -- the mother's breast.  Does anyone else see it..?"

      "Yeah, I see it," the Donald replies.

      "Is Mister Crossmann going to be crucified?" Hedda asks Charlie Rose.

      "I would have to speculate on that possibility," Charlie replies.  "No, of course not.  Who would do such a thing...?"

      "Let's move on to number thirty-four," Hedda says.  "This one is an interesting..."

 

More members of the audience begin to drift away.

      "Tell us why this exhibit was divided into 36 steps," Jerry Falwell demands.

      "Pardon me?" Hedda replies.

      "Why 36 pieces?  There must be a reason that 36 pieces were chosen," Falwell continues.

      "There was no reason," Hedda replies.  "The artist selected these pieces."

      "Oh, everything has some mystical meaning for him," Reverend Falwell replies.  "Let him answer for himself...!"

      "The 36 Paths of Wisdom represent the 26 letters of the English alphabet and the 10 letters," Moshe Frank replies.

      "Oh, Kabbala ruballa," Reverend Falwell responds.  "We want the truth...!"

      The four skinheads are standing behind Falwell, as a kind of army of his word.

      "I don't understand this question," Hedda responds.  "What is this all about...?"

      "I don't think I know either," Crossmann replies.

      "It's about demonism!" Falwell cries.  "Continuing demonism!  We know Crossmann's the Beast, the Anti-Christ!  If you add the numbers 1-36 together, you arrive at the number 666, the number of the Anti-Christ.  His allengiance to the number 36 tells us something, doesn't it...!"

      Stunned silence.

      "Is that true?" Hedda asks.

      "1 plus 2 is 3 and 3 plus three is 6 and 4 plus 6 is ten..." Lola begins, showing off her love of numbers.

      "Take our word for it!" shouts one of the skinheads, the one who looks like John Preston.  "We've done the math...!"

      "There are 36 images in a set of Tarot cards," Shirley McClain comes in.  She is standing next to her brother, Warren.  "Could it be that this exhibit is, itself, a circle of Tarot...?"

      People in the audience begin to snicker.

      "36 is 9 times 4," Richard Baker proffers.

      "36 is 12 times 3," the Magician cries out.

      "In the Fourth Order, the World of Spheres, 36 represents Jupiter," Moshe Frank interjects.

      Reggie Lyons throws up his hands in disgust; and then he leaves, looking for his coat.

      "36," Moshe says again: "The soul guides beyond the body.  Malkuth within Geburrah: History is invented."

      Richard Baker steps up: " In the earlier discussion regarding Three-Dimensional Reality, It was broken down, or rather built up, into 27 components. This number 27 was found tobe the sum of 3 x 9. This new number 36 is the sum of 4 x 9. The difference between these two numbers is 9. This can be seen symbolically as the definition of reality added to the definers of reality in the nine digits. As was shown previously though, one of the 27 has the value of zero. Rather than 27 + 9 equaling 36, it should be 26 + 10. While the zero is not really a number, it does have a definite value and place in the system. For the purpose of this part of the work though, we will try to first analyze more of the values of nine: 9, 18, 27, and 36....

      "In the chapter concerning Revelation, we work with a numberline of seven places. Let us go back to that line and look at some of the other things it reveals. The first digit and the last digit are the numbers 1 and 7. These two total the sum of 8. The second pair of digits is 2 and 6, which also total 8. 3 and 5 are next, also totaling 8. Since this numberline has an Odd number of digits, as seven is an odd number, there are no more pairs left. The number 4 is left alone in the middle. 4 is half of 8, so the place it has in the center, which is the halfway point, is very appropriate. Take a look at the complete digital numberline below....

                                               0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

 

"These are the ten digits of the decimal system arranged in order of value. This is the primary line of all that we will work with. This line repeats itself when numbers are reduced to prime digits in reduction, with exception of the zero, as it occurs only once. In this line, the ends are 0 and 9, which total nine.  The next pair are 1 and 8, which also total nine. 2 and 7, 3 and 6, and 4 and 5 also total nine. As this line has an Even number of digits, the middle falls between two numbers on the line: in this case, between 4 and 5. Half of nine is also 4.5 in the decimal system, or just 4 and a half plainly....

      "This line also demonstrates the division spoken of earlier between the definers and the defined. 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10, which is the nine and the zero. We dropped the zero for the first half of the line, so we must drop the nine in the last half now, as nine is symbolically the equivalent of zero mathematically. The second half of the line is thus 5 + 6 + 7 + 8, which has a sum of 2 x 13, or 26. Again, this distinction between 10 and 26 will be addressed later. This demonstration simply points out another way to reach it logically....

      "To enable further study upon the significance of certain numbers, and numbers in general, let us now consider a common table of multiplication used in mathematics. Children use this table all of the time. It is a very simple square table showing the factors and sums of multiplication basics in an X-Y type grid. For our use though, it will be limited to only eight digits, as any number multiplied by nine equals nine:

      "The row across the top is 1 multiplied by each of 8 numbers. The column down the left side is each number multiplied by one. The factors that are normally on the top and side of this sort of table have been left out. The next table is really the same as this one; the difference is that all of the sums have been reduced to single digits....

      "There are many things to be noted here. First, there are only four nines present, in a square pattern in the center of the table. Second, the patterns of the second four numbers are the exact opposite of the first four. Third, any two numbers that are the same distance from the center along a horizontal or vertical line add to nine. Fourth, that only the numbers 1, 2, 4, 5, 7,and 8 have themselves as sums of their multiplication. The other three numbers; 3, 6, and 9 can only result in a 3, 6, or nine when multiplied by any other number. His forms a kind of grid between the multiples of three, that looks like a 'Tic-tac-toe' grid. A further analysis reveals even more repeating patterns, but let us concentrate upon these for now:

      "Ignoring the grid formed by the multiples of 3 and 6 leaves nine smaller squares, each containing four numbers. Each of these squares also adds to nine, (1 + 2 + 2 + 4), (4 + 5 + 8 + 1), etc. Four times nine again adds to thirty-six....

      "The numbers 3, 6, and 9 can be thus set apart from the other numbers for now, so that we may look at these other six numbers. 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8 they are in logical order. The sum of these six added is 27. The first three seem to suggest some sort of pattern themselves. 1 + 2 + 4 = 7, but the pattern is more than this. This is a doubling sequence. It is the same pattern which organic cells divide into. One splits into Two. Two split into Four. The logical progression of this is then that Four split into Eight, and Eight into Sixteen, and Sixteen into Thirty-two, and Thirty-two into Sixty-four, and so on. This pattern can also be resolved from these six numbers....

      "The 1 2 4 pattern is sequential in the numberline. To get the 8 we have to start from the opposite end. As the multiplication table shows us the cycle of 8 is the opposite of 1, this should come as no surprise. The sixteen that the 8 doubles into is reduced: 1 + 6 = 7, which is the next number in the reverse order we are following. The 16 into 32?  3 + 2 = 5, as does 7 + 7 = 14, which is 1 + 4 = 5. So this entire sequence is here in these six numbers, only it is broken in half and turned around in the middle. The sequence we are discussing is infinitive. This is a cycle of six numbers that repeats over and over again forever. In this work, infinitive numbers, especially fractions and decimals, will be represented by the sign ~ following the number where the sequence repeats. 1 2 4 8 7 5 is the sequence. What does this look like on a numberline?

      "Make a numberline of your own and plot the numbers from left to right and you will come up with basically the same diagram. ( I encourage this to be done with any of the patterns I have described.) Note that the pattern is exactly as it appears in the value order: 1 2 4 to 8, then reverses back to 1.  Some of you will recognize this pattern as a very ancient one, some may not. For those who are new to occult symbology, this pattern is very representative of the ancient Yin-Yang symbol of Chinese origin. This pattern is the basis for an entire philosophy that is known as TAO. This is the power of the universe and all of creation. TAO is the whole: the combined essence of masculine and feminine forces that work together to keep the universe together and moving always in balance. It is very appropriate that this should also be found as the mathematical source pattern for cell division among all living organisms in this world, and most likely in any other that may exist. The number 27 can now be seen to not only be the key to 3-dimensional reality, but also organic life itself...."

      Moshe Frank says: "1 plus 2 is 3 plus 3 is 6 plus 4 is 10 plus 5 is 15 plus 6 is 21 plus 7 is 28 plus 8 is 36..."

      "Not to mention the prime lexicon," Richard Baker continues:  "When writing numbers in bases (radii) larger than ten we use the letters as digits: setting A=10, B=11, ... In hexadecimal (base 16), for example, we use the letters A,B,C,D,E and F. So in hexadecimal we have

 

                        (FACE)16 = 15*163 + 10*162 + 12*16 + 14.

 

      "When we work in base 36, all the letters are used - hence all words are numbers. For example, in base 36 the word "FACE" is the number

 

                        (FACE)36 = 15*363 + 10*362 + 12*36 + 14.

 

      "Since words are numbers, it makes sense to divide them into the usual number categories: primes, composites, squares, perfect numbers... This is a collection of prime words (that is each of these words is a prime when viewed as a number base 36)...."

      "The 36th Hexagram in the I-ching is called the 'Darkening of the Light'," Moshe Frank continues.  "The Gematrian Wheel is divided into 36 parts -- 36 times 10 being 360, the totality of the circle in degrees."

      Richard Baker begins again: "A Divine year is the name given according to this system of archaic calculating of time-periods to 360 of our years or Solar years. Therefore 12,000 Divine years in Solar years are 4,320,000. Made up thus: the Krita-Yuga of 4000 Divine years -- 1,440,000 Solar years, with the Dawn and Twilight thereof -- a Krita-Yuga is 1,728,000, (and isn't 1728 the cube of 12?). The Treta-Yuga is 3000 Divine years. Multiply this by 360 to turn it into our ordinary Solar years, and you get 1,080,000 years. Add on the 2110, the Dawn and Twilight, and you get 1,296,000 years....

      "Here in the Table you get this series of 144, (the square of 12).  Isn't it in Revelation of the Christian New Testament that it is said that the sealed unto the Lord, or the saved, shall be 144,000 in number? You see here again the mystical figure, 144, that is the main point. You can add and take off ciphers according to the time-period or cycle you are discussing. It is the head of the series of figures that is important -- 144. The square of 12, twice 72, 4 x 36, and so forth. So we go down to the Dwapara-Yuga: turn it into Solar Years, with a Dawn and a Twilight, and you have 864,000; then Kali-Yuga, the age we are in now called the Iron Age, adding to it its 2/10 for Dawn and Twilight, you have 432,000 years. This system, or mathematical calculation of adding an opening and a closing of every age-period or cycle which the Hindus call the Dawn and Twilight, is an extremely archaic method of calculating based on Nature herself, for she always introduces everything she does with a preparatory period, whether of time or phenomena, or both, or whatever you may be dealing with. All diseases come with the Dawn of preparation. Then there is the disease. Then there is the Twilight of the disease as it fades out. So to get the full time-period of the cycle you must know not only the length of the cycle itself, but its Dawn and its Twilight, its beginning and its end....

      "With reference to the key-number 72 (36 x 2), which itself of course is a cycle of varying length depending upon the ciphers added to it, the following series contains cycles, every item of which on the list is important and well worthy of study by those interested in chronological or cyclical matters: 72 x 10 = 720; 720 x 2 = 1440; 720 x 3 = 2160 -- an extremely important cycle this because entering into the computations of the precessional cycle mentioned above, for there are 12 such cycles of 2160 in the Precessional Cycle of 25,920....

      "720 x 4 = 2880; 720 x 5 = 3600 -- a cycle well known to historians and chronologers as the famous Babylonian Saros, which again multiplied by 100 or 102 equals the racial cycle mentioned above of 360,000....

      "720 x 6 = 4320 -- again a most famous cyclical key-number, well known in ancient Hindusthan and in Babylonia and in the esoteric or occult schools of virtually all Asia and ancient Europe, a cycle which with zeros added is an even more important human racial cycle than is the 360,000 above mentioned.  720 x 7 = 5040 -- another extremely useful, interesting, and important cyclical period, with or without extra ciphers to define shorter or longer periods, and mentioned even by Plato in his Laws, as already stated....

      "The ancient initiate-astrologer-astronomers rarely failed in their prophecies, for it was a relatively perfect knowledge of the interrelations of planetary movements and of other cosmic time-periods, both great and small, which enabled them to predict with an accuracy of Nature herself events which they knew would take place because of their knowledge of what had taken place in other preceding cycles of time; and all cycles are repetitive, bringing more or less the same train of events or sequences as happened before, when these cycles begin anew. It should be noted that this is in no sense fatalism; for every cycle, although repeating itself constantly in time, due to what modern astronomy calls the irregularities in planetary and other celestial movements, is never precisely or exactly what the preceding cycle was; for every such cycle beginning anew its course always differs in less or greater degree from its former courses....

      "Some comparisons can be made to show the existing connection between the number of the Beast, 666 (that is the triangulation of 36), and the characteristic number of the mission of the Christ, 153 (triangulation of 17). Note that in the Gospel of Luke, the verse 36 of chapter 17, does not exist. And put aside verses 1 S 17,36 and 2 K 17,36, the reference chapter 17 verses 36 never occur in any other place in the Bible. These two verses of the Old Testament highlight the combat led against the Antichrist and that only the Christ must be adored. At 2 K 17,36, the people are warned against the false gods and that they have to adore only the Lord: 'You are to bow down and offer sacrifice only to Yahweh'.  At 1 S 17,36, it is David that told Saul that Goliath will fall between his hands 'for having challenged the armies of the living God'.   David, a shepherd (symbolizing the 'The Good Shepherd', the Christ) faces Goliath and kills him by cutting his head (symbol of the Antichrist dethroned) with a sword (symbol of the Word of God)...."

      "What the hell is this all about?" Senator Kennedy asks.

      "This is what we are saying," Jerry Falwell says.  "The triangulation of 36 is 666....  He, Crossmann, is the Anti-Christ...!"

      "Crossmann was born December 17," Moshe Frank replies.  "He was born 12/17/50.  12 plus 17 equals 29 plus 5 equals 34.  34 is divisible by 17... "

      "Your claim is that he is not the Anti-Christ?" Falwell asks.  "He's not the 36.  He's the 17, instead, the 'mission of Christ'?  Is that your claim...?"

      "Yes," Moshe Franks replies.

      "Well, we're not so sure," Reverend Falwell continues.  "By Gematri, if we calculate only the consonents in the name Michael, Crossmann's first name, we come up with 36, don't we?  I mean, M is 13 plus C (3) is 16 plus H (8) is 24 plus L (12) is 36 -- is it not...?"

      "It is," Moshe replies.

      "What do you say to that?" the reverend asks.

      "Are you suggesting that Michael the Archangel is the Anti-Christ?" Moshe enquires.

      "No, I am not!  But I am suggesting...!" Reverend Falwell begins.

      "Watch yourself, Jerry," Billy Bob Thornton says.  "You don't want to get out on thin theological ice now.  The news media is here, don't forget...."

      Falwell retreats a bit.

      Moshe Frank continues: "There is a formula which utilizes both Theosophical Extension and Reduction to calculate the Root number of any given number. First, we would go ahead and calculate its extension. After calculating the number's extension we would then calculate the reduction of the extension. As an example of this process let us start with the number 36. The extension of 36 would be expressed as 1~36 = 666 (using the above formula, 36 x (36+1) = 1332 divided by 2 = 666). We would then reduce this extension to find the Root number of the number 36, that is, 666 = 6 + 6 + 6 = 18 = 1 + 8 = 9.

      'The Numerologist thus has four basic ways of "reading" any number. The first would be the base or apparent number which we would be interpreting. Then there are the two Theosophical methods of Extension and Reduction. Finally there is the utilization of both Theosophical methods to reveal the Root Number of any apparent number. The following number chart, borrowed once again from Kevin Townley, should help to clarify these methods, as well as to reveal the four distinct types of numbers.

 

      Apparent: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

      Reduced: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6

      Extended: 1 3 6 10 15 21 28 36 45 55 66 78 91 105 120

      Root: 1 3 6 1 6 3 1 9 9 1 3 6 1 6 3

 

"The reader should consider the curious nature of the four discrete Root numbers, which will always be either 1,3,6, or 9. In light of this, we may consider these four numbers to be Perfect, since they are the Roots of all other numbers.

      "In esoteric lore, these numbers indicate how the One and the Many may always be expressed by the Holy Trinity, which is confirmed mathematically as the three Perfect numbers 3, 6, and 9; or 1x3, 2x3, and 3x3. The essential unity or Oneness of this numeric Trinity may be revealed by applying Theosophical reduction to each of these three sets of tripartite Root numbers, 136, 163, and 199, which are repeated sequentially into infinity:

 

      1+3+6=10=1

      1+6+3=10=1

      1+9+9=19=10=1

      That is, by Gematria, 111.

 

"Hence, the inherent unity of each complete tripartite cycle of these three sets of three Root numbers could be written as 1:1:1, or the first Perfect tripartite number 111, which symbolizes the operation of Unity through the Trinity. This Trinity is eloquently expressed in the mathematical formula of the Key number 37 (the 3 formless and unmanifest, the trinity, and the 7 manifest principles), the supreme number of Unity in both the Hebrew Qabalah and the Greek Kaballah, and in the English Cabala 111 as well.

 

                                           The Tripartite Permutations of the Key Number 37

 

                                                    1 + 1 + 1 = 3, 3 x 37 = 111

                                                    2 + 2 + 2 = 6, 6 x 37 = 222

                                                    3 + 3 + 3 = 9, 9 x 37 = 333

                                                   4 + 4 + 4 = 12, 12 x 37 = 444

                                                   5 + 5 + 5 = 15, 15 x 37 = 555

                                                   6 + 6 + 6 = 18, 18 x 37 = 666

                                                   7 + 7 + 7 = 21, 21 x 37 = 777

                                                   8 + 8 + 8 = 24, 24 x 37 = 888

                                                   9 + 9 + 9 = 27, 27 x 37 = 999

 

"The reader has more than likely recognized two of the Tripartite numbers referred to earlier in this text, 111 and 666. The deeper meanings of these two enigmatic numbers will begin to unfold for the reader by referring to the number attributes listed previously concerning the Perfect numbers 1,3,6, and 9; especially when we consider that the number 37 is the square root of the number 1369...."

     

"We seem to be getting lost in a forest of numbers, gentlemen," Hedda announces, breaking up the party.

      The Magician interrupts Hedda, speaking to Reverent Falwell: "You forget one thing, reverend.  In looking for the Anti-Christ, you have forgotten the usual suspects -- the most obvious suspect, I should say, who was in this very room tonight.  W equals 23 plus J equals 33 plus C = 36.  If you are looking for your Anti-Christ, you should be looking for William Jefferson Clinton..."

      An alarmed hush runs through the audience.

      "By God," Reverend Falwell exclaims.  "I knew it!  I've always said so!  We need to track him down!  No, we need to call a press conference!  I'll need to work on my Millennium Speech for tomorrow!  My God, we've got old Nick cornered now!  Let's see him get out of this trap...!"

      Falwell leaves with his entourage; but he turns to say something to the lead skinhead.  The four skinheads remain behind.  The leader, the one who looks like John Preston, eyes Crossmann with some hostility.

      "My, are we done with this painting?" Hedda asks.  "I never expected to veer into that mirage.  Charlies, can you help me here?  We have the painting of Jesus being tortured -- and, somehow, this fits into the artist's future?  I am not sure I really want to hear about this.  And then another twist, Painting number 34, entitled 'Girl from Sapa'."

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, whispering: "Of course, your own brother also has the initials WJC.  And his birth day is on October 26 -- that is, 10 plus 26, or 36.  But I shall never tell..."

      Crossmann looks back at this brother William.  William smiles; but Crossmann sees him transformed into a man in a military uniform, with a stubby sand-colored mustache.  He clicks his hells; then he makes the Nazi salute.

 

"We are nearing the end of this journey," Hedda proclaims.  "This 'Girl From Sappa', a drawing on white paper done with colored pencils -- what does this mean, Charlie...?"

 

 

                       

 

                                                GIRL FROM SAPA

 

"I see it, in some ways, as representing Michael Crossmann's return to Vietnam, metaphorically," Rose replies.  "Sapa is a village in northern Vietnam, along the Chinese border.  In talking with Michael Crossmann earlier this evening, he informed me that, following his metaphysical experience -- which he calls his 'rebirth' experience, he read deeply about the American war experience in Vietnam, and even came to regret his opposition to the war.  He came to view communist expansion through the eyes of his father's generation, I believe..."

      "But how does this explain the appearance of this Vietnamese woman at this stage of the story of his life?" Hedda asks.  "I mean, after the cab ride he took earlier tonight...?"

      "I don't know," Charlie says.

      "He will meet an Asian woman sometime in the future," Columbo reasons.  "Isn't that what all of this is saying to us?  Isn't this a kind of vision of the artist's life...?"

      "That's what we have come to assume," Hedda replies.

      "Then, I guess he will meet an Asian woman who will become important to him in some way."

      There is no more comment.

      The young woman in the blue downy duck costume appears again, the one with the foul mouth, the one who sang the praises of fellatio.  She approaches Crossmann with a note, handing it to him without a word.

      The note reads: "I couldn't make it to your exhibit.  Something came up.  Don't forget to meet me at the opera.  Love, Leslie."

      The name 'Leslie' sends an electric jolt through Crossmann.

      He puts the note in his pocket.

      "Let's move on to the next painting, number thirty-five," Hedda says.

      The Magician sidles up to Crossmann, saying: "I won't say anything.  Don't worry about me...!"

 

"We are almost finished here, Charlie," Hedda says.  "I see people are drifting off toward celebrations.  This is really a very moving portrait of 'The Old Man Reflecting On his Past' -- I just love this piece...."

      "You and me also," Morgan Freeman responds.  "Lola, I'd like to bid on this one."

      Lola is ecstatic.  She thought all the collectors had left the museum.  She moves down to speak with Freeman.

      "This is a black man, Oprah," Freeman says, smiling.  "I still hold to my theory that this man, Crosmmann, must have black blood in him.  Look at the soul of this man in the drawing....  The white man is the master of the Day.  But the black man, the dark man, is the master of the Night.  And it is during the Night that the world is given religion.  There is no way Crossmann could have been given a new religion, and these paintings as a white man..."

      Freeman laughs when he says this.

      Oprah gives him a cold stare.

     

 

                       

 

                                    OLD MAN REFLECTING ON HIS YOUTH

 

"I see at least four faces, four images of people in the mass of memories piled off to the side," Charlie Rose adds.

      "If find it interesting that the first recognizable imagery," Henrietta Beach states, "the 'First Family', was a primordial or an ab-original, a dark skinned family -- and that the lighter skinned pictures evolved later.  Now we have the circle being made.  The child is black; the adult is white; and the grandfather is, again, black.  This is a kind of color wheel.  I am wondering if this tell us something about the way that Nature works.  the Night comes first; and out of Night is born the Day -- but the Day is mortal.  Remember the 'Re-Birth of America' -- the word 'mortal' seems to be very important.  It is the only word in that piece.  And it is probably the most dominant single word in the entire exhibit.  Anything born, or re-born, in this case, is, by definition, going to die again..."

      "Darkness was on the face of the Earth," Moshe Frank responds.  "Life is born from the Darkness, from the woman.  The Book of the Generations is born out of the Darkness.  The Seven Days of Creation, the Six Days, and the Seventh Day of Rest, comes from out of the Darkness..."

      Charlie Rose says: "I would guess from this that Michael Crossmann is not crucified.  He lives to become an old man, to reflect on his life, his past.  Our concerns about the 'Scourging at the Pillar' seems to suggest that an Asian woman appears; and somehow this allows him to grow old..."

      "The West is born out of the East," Moshe says.  "The Man is born out of the Woman.  The West fights with the East; the Man fights with the Woman.  The Man who emerges from the Woman is the Son of the Woman; and, magically, in some magic process, the Son becomes the Father.  The West, the Son, emerges from the East, the Mother, but returns to the East again, returns to the Night.  That is why the Asian woman again appears....  The child begins in the dark world; comes out into the Light, is differentiated from the dream world, the unified world, becomes a separate being, an Ego, a concrete, alienated, isolated, thinking man -- and individual -- only to return, as an old man to the darkness.  The child has only past; and the old man has only past.  The Ego, the individual, has Life in the future.  And this life in the future is how he generates his own light.  The child is a star turned inward; the adult is a star turned outward, walking out in his own starlight, creating the light in which he walks into the future; the old man, again, is a star turned inward, walking into the inner dimension, the dimension which has only indward manifestation..."

      "I believe my claim," Shirley McLane continues, "has some validity."

      "Which claim?" Hedda asks.

      "That this exhibit is a kind of tarot experience," Shirley explains.  "The 'First Family' is the 'Wheel of Fortune' card; 'Castor and Pollux' is 'Justice'; the 'Spirit of Drink' is 'Temperance'; 'Chopin' is the 'Sun'; 'Ahab' is the 'Tower'; 'Ecology' is the 'World'; the 'Lovers' are the 'Lovers'; 'Mister Death' is the 'Devil'; 'Hell Money' is 'Death'; 'Night Warrior' is 'Strength'; the 'Re-Birth of America' is the 'Hanged Man'; 'Venus' is the 'High Priestess'; 'The Matador' is the 'Magician'..."

      Crossmann smiles at the Magician.

      "'The Self-Made Man is the "Emperor'," McLane continues.  "'The Young Girl' is the 'Moon'; 'Marital Strife' is the 'Empress'; 'The Grim Reaper' is 'Judgment'; the 'Taxi-Cab' is the 'Chariot'; 'Scourging At the Pillar' is 'The Hierophant'; 'The Girl from Sapa' is the 'Star'; and the 'Old Man Reflecting on His Youth' is the 'Hermit'...."

      "Fascinating, Shirley," Hedda says.  "Fascinating."

      There are fewer people in the audience now.

      Columbo is still there.   The Trumps; and Senator Kennedy.  The four skinheads. 

      Crossmann looks around for Catherine Zeta-Jones.  He sees her no where.

      Crossmann looks at his watch.  His watch is broken.  He doesn't know what time it is.  He wanted to kiss Catherine Zeta-Jones at midnight.

      The orchestra is still playing Mussorgsksy.

      Oprah and Gloria Steinem and Callista Flockhart and Alice Walker leave together.

      Lola Fanti and Dana Scully exchange phone number.  Scully leaves with Mulder.

 

Crossmann notices a solitary black man --he looks like Lou Rawls -- who has entered the museum dressed in a black evening coat with a fur collar.  Oprah nods to him as they pass.

      The black man says someting in passing to the bald man, the one who threatened Crossmann earlier, the one who was a skin-head for a time -- but who now is dressed in formal wear.  He also leaves the museum.

      The Cigarette Smoking Man also leaves the museum.

      The woman with the chartreuse downy duck costume is still wandering around the museum, looking lost and angry.

      "I believe the Magician is the Magician," Crossmann says abstractly, smiling at the Magician.

      "And now the last drawing, the thirty-sixth," Hedda says.  " This one is 'The Return of the Salmon'.  Charlie, this seems to me like the perfect drawing to end the exhibit -- to close the circle and lead back to the beginning.  In style, the first and the last are so much alike: 'The Return of the Salmon' leads back into 'Before the Beginning'.  It's as if they are companion pieces..."

 

 

     

 

                                                THE RETURN OF THE SALMON

 

"Both are stark and abstract," Charlie Rose agrees.  "We see the salmon in the left-center of the drawing, moving upstream.  The blue tones suggest ice.  There seems to be a fish-ladder behind the salmon.  There are also two letter 'A's' in this drawing, on to our left of the fish and another one on our far right.  'A', of course, is the beginning; it is also a symbol of 'Anarchy' or Chaos -- before the world begins.  Before generation.  The salmon going home is also a pretty powerful symbol of the artist himself, who learned to forgive his father, forgive his country, and go home..."

      "Any other comments on the show?" Hedda asks.

      "I think I would like to make a bid on this piece," Senator Kennedy says, motioning to Lola.

      "Marvelous, Senator," Hedda says.

      A middle-aged man has come from one of the other exhibit rooms, off to the east.  He stops and looks at 'The Return of the Salmon' -- and he says: "I really don't understand this drawing; but I like it alot.  I just went to a photography exhibit next door.  I don't know that much about art really.  I would have to say that I'm not too much of an expert on art -- but the art in the other room, the photography exhibit, that's not art.  One photograph shows a finger stuck in the head of a penis -- is that art?  A canister or something rammed up a rectum, is that art? A man urinating in another man's mouth, is that art?  He shows children in erotic postures.  That's not art.  Art isn't just attempting to shock or alienated someone.  Really art must be more than that.  Real art is an attempt to discover the beautiful and the profound part of our natures -- not the grotesque or the perverse, the ugliest parts of our natures.  Don't you agree with me...?"

      There is silence.

      Finally, Crossmann says: "Yes, I agree with you."

      "Yes," says the Magician.  "Yes, of course, I agree with you."

      Crossmann's brother, Faramarz, Truman all nod in agreement.

      "Well, of course," Columbo says.  "Of course you're right..."

      Hedda doesn't want to commit herself -- she is also representing the other artists showing in the museum...

      "Warhol!  Is that you, Warhol," the woman in the chartreuse downy duck costume calls out.

      "No," Crossmann replies.

      Crossmann notices the large black man reaching in to his coat for something.

      Also, the leader of the skin-heads is reaching in to his coat, pulling out something.

      "Look out!  A gun!"

      It is the voice of the Magician.

      "Warhol!  Why did you betray me!"

      The woman in chartreuse costume pulls a pistol from her duck costume and begins to fire at Crossmann. 

      Crossmann ducks.

      The Magician steps in front of Crossmann, directly in the line of fire.

      Jim moves quickly in from the background, grabbing Crossmann by the arm and pulling him back through the museum, back down toward the basement.  Down the steps quickly.  Running: the hall darkening.  More gun shots ringing out above them.  The bald man in Crossmann's mind; the elegant black man with his alliance to the Cigarette Smoking Man.  The four skin-heads.  The blue-men.  Bald heads.  Reaching for something.  In their coats.

 

Jim and Crossmann are out on a New York street, hurrying away -- Jim looking back.  Sirens fill up the dark night; police lights whirling from a distance...

      Jim has blood on his coat.

      "What is it?" Crossmann asks Jim.

      "Have you been hit?"

      JIm opens his coat.  He has been shot in the stomach.

      "Oh, no," Crossmann cries.  "We have to get you to a hospital...!"

      "No, no hospital for me!" Jim states.  "The police will be looking for me there...!"

      "You've done nothing wrong!  You were trying to protect me...!"

      "It doesn't matter what you think," Jim says.  "The police have their own logic...!"

      Jim walks with difficulty.

      He points to a brownstone.

      "Up there, we can go up there," Jim says.

      Crossmann stops and looks around the street.  Policemen are moving in: he sees several behind him, on foot, guns drawn, moving in.

      Crossmann stops, raising his hands, giving up.

      Crossmann thinks of John Lennon.  They were innocent of the charges.  An investigation would prove it.

      Jim is at the door of the brownstone.  He reaches in to his pocket; but then he turns to Crossmann, saying: "My girlfriend lives here.  She'll help us.  But I'd better comb my hair first.  I want to look good for her...!"

      Jim pulls a comb from his pocket.

      "FREEZE!"

      One policeman fires -- then they all fire.

      Crossmann holds his ears.  Canons going off -- one after the other.  He counts the shots: one, two , three...eleven...seventeen...twenty-two...twenty-eight....thirty-six...forty-one...!

      Crossmann turns back to Jim.

      Jim has been shatterred, cut into pieces on the stoop of the apartment house, a black comb in his trembling hand.

      A group of citizens surround the crime scene.  Black protestors, led by Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton.  The demonstrators begin to shout: "RACISTS!  MURDERERS!  RACISTS!  MURDERERS...!"

      "We thought he had a gun!" one of the officers replies.  "In the shadows that comb looked like a pistol...!"

      Crossmann looks up the street.  A minstrel with a guitar, singing:

 

"41 shots

Across this bloody river to the other side

41 shots

they cut through the night

YouÕre kneeling over his body in the vestibule,

Praying for his life

41 shots

 and weÕll take that ride

Across the bloody river to the other side..."

 

"Jim!  Jim!"  Crossmann turns to the police and cries: "He was unarmed!  You've killed an unarmed man...!"

      "Shhh!" Jim replies at Crossmann's left side.  "Don't get involved man.  It's just some foreigner.  Come one...!"

      Jim is not lying on the stoop -- it is another man.

      The cherry-tops are flashing, throwing eerie light across the brownstones, down the dark canyon beyond.

      Crossmann follows Jim through another door, leading down again, down into another unlit basement.

      "We have to get you to the hospital," Crossmann says to Jim.

      "It's too late for that, man," Jim replies.

      "What are you talking about?" Crossmann asks.  "You're going to be ok....!"

      "None of us will be ok, in the end," Jim rreplies.  "Give me your key...!"

      "What key?" Crossmann asks.

      "The key to the city," Jim says.  "The big key..."

      It is in Crossmann's coat pocket, in the same pocket as the gun.

      Crossmann gives it to Jim.

      Jim opens the door.  The room is comfortable, well-lit, warm.

      "Wait in here," Jim commands.  "I'll be back."

      Crossmann throws open Jim's coat, to survey his wound.  But there is no wound.

      "What's your problem, man?" Jim says, laughing.  "Are you hallucinating again...?"

      Crossmann moves in to the room, taking off his coat, sitting on the sofa.

      Jim turns on the television for Crossmann.

      "I'll be back," Jim says.  "I'll knock like this, a syncopated knock..."

      He demonstrates: Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock.

      "Did you get that?" he asks.

      Crossmann knocks on the coffee table: Knock _ _ _ Knock _ _ _ Knock.....

      "That's no syncopated," Jim says.  He demonstrates again: Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock.

      Crossmann tries to repeat it: Knock _ _ _ _ Knock _ _ _ Knock.

      "Jesus, you white people aint got no rhythm," Jim says.  "Do I need to simplify it?  Listen carefully -- and think Bach..."

      Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock..

      Crossmann tries again: Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock..

      "Ok," Jim says, relieved.  "Don't open the door for anyone but me."

      Jim is gone.

      Crossmann picks up the remote, and begins flipping through the channels.

      He comes to Jerry Springer. 

      "Oh, God," Crossmann says aloud.  "Freaks and white trash.  Black trash and sex geeks..."

      "Tonight we have a very special show," Jerry is saying.  The show is just beginning. 

      "Tonight we have novelist/artist/vigilantee/school teacher Michael J. Crossmann, a man who claims to be the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.  And Michael Crosssmann is going to be confronted by his wife, his estranged wife, Irene, who is going to confront him tonight witth the admission that she has been engaged in a sexual relationship with another man, Marshall Fenton, for the last twenty-five years, right through her marriage to Crossmann; and she is also going to claim that Marshall Fenton is the father of Crossmann's supposed daughter, Christina.  It's going to be great fun.  Crossmann is in the studio as we speak.  He cannot hear us.  And we have the whole family here tonight, as well as Marshall Fenton, the man who has been getting the gravy all these years.  So, when we come back, Crossmann will confront the truth about the woman he has loved as his wife for the last fifteen years -- but who has been deceiving him all these years.  There's bound to be some sparks flying.  We're going to have some fun tonight.  Maybe we'll get someone killed tonight -- in a jealous rage!  Now, wouldn't that be something.  We have reason to believe that Crossmann is carrying a pistol in his coat.  Now, we haven't mentioned this piece of intelligence to anyone, Irene, the wife, or Marshall Fenton, the lover, or Christina, the supposed daughter.  But, first, lets hear a word from our sponsor: Campho Finique..."

      "Jerry!  Jerry!  Jerry...!" the audience is chanting.

 

There is a knock on the door.

      Knock _ Knock - Knock.  Knock.

      No, that's not it, Crossmann thinks.

      "Mister Crossmann.  Five minutes.  Five minutes."

      Crossmann looks out the peep-hole.  It is a studio boy.

      "Ok," Crossmann replies through the door.

      What am I doing here?  I got to get out of here. 

      A Chips Ahoy ad comes on the television, with animated dancing elephants.  The elephants dance, dropping the chips out of the boucing rumps.  Making art.  I guess.

      Another knock on the door.

      Knock _ _ _ Knock _ _ _ Knock.

      That's not the right knock.

      Crossmann doesn't answer the door.

      Knock _ _ _ Knock _ _ _ Knock.  Again.

      Crossmann looks out the peep-hole.

      One of the skinheads, the one who looks like John Preston, is at the door.

      Crossmann doesn't answer the door.

      He knocks again.

      Knock _ _ _ Knock _ _ _ Knock.  Again.

      Silence.

      He moves down to the next door.

      "Welcome back!" Jerry Spring begins again.  "Our first guest tonight is Irene Crossmann, wife of the English teacher turned vigilante turned renowned novelist turned artist turned Second Coming of Christ.  Irene is going to tell us that she has been having sex with two different men for the last twenty-five years, fifteen of which she has been married to Michael Crossmann.  She is going to tell Michael Crossmann tonight that she has been sleeping with Marshall Fenton all these years.  She also believes that her daughter, Christina, is the daughter of Marshall Fenton, not Michael Crossmann.  We, in fact, have paid for DNA test which will tell us if Christina is, in fact, Marshall Fenton's child..."

      I'm not going to be on that show.

      There is a knock on the door: Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock..

      That's Jim.

      Crossmann turns off the television.

      He opens the door.

      The solitary black man who looks like Lou Rawls is standing at the door with a pistol raised chest-high, aiming the weapon at Crossmann.  He squeezes the trigger.  The gun misfires twice.

      CLICK.  CLICK.

      Crossmann slams the door, locking it, bolting the chain.  He turns to run -- but where?

      There is a window.  Crossmann tries to open the window; it is locked.  He unlocks the window and opens it.  Behind him, Lou Rawls is kicking down the door.

      Crossmann remembers walking up two flights of stairs with Jim -- he is on the second floor.  He steps out through the window, careful not to fall.  He expects to be stepping back out into the New York night, with the police cruisers below on the street.  But he steps into another interior space -- another hallway.  He runs up the hallway, to his left.  There is a door on the right.  Crossmann tries the door.  It is locked.  He uses the Key to the City.  The door opens.

      Crossmann slips in to the room.

      The television is on.  Jerry Springer is interviewing Crossmann's wife.  He hears Irene's voice and he feels fury at here betrayal.

      But there is a man on the counch, bound in ropes, his head in a cloth sack.

      He sits rigidly on the couch.

      Crossmann approaches him quietly.

      "I was Marshall's lover when I first met Michael," Irene is saying.  "I had been Marshall's lover for more than a year."

      "Why did you get involved with Michael at that point?" Jerry Springer asks.  "Is one man not enough for you?  Are you a nymphomaniiac or...?"

      "Marshall had another girl friend," Irene says.

      Crossmann pulls the cloth bag off the bound man's head.  He is gagged, with blinders over his eyes.

      Crossmann takes the blinders off; and removes the gag.

      It is Ralph Nader.

      "Shh," Nader whispers.  "There are men with guns in the other room..."

      "What are you doing here?" Crossmann asks.

      Nader whispers:  "They're keeping me out of the Presidential Debates.  I tried to force my way in.  The gestapo police force took over!  The gestapo police force which protects the corporate establishment...!"

      "Jesus, Ralph," Crossmann says.  "You know, I admire a lot of what you've done, especially for the consumer -- and laws that protect the consumer.  But your hostility to business is....anachronistic..."

      "Corporations are evil," Nader says.  "They are ruining the environment.  They have enslaved the working class...!"

      "Enslaved the working class!" Crossmann says.  "What are you talking about?  The working class in America is better paid than some university professors.  A steel-worker or a plumber makes more money that I have ever made as a teacher.  You're stuck in this marxist dogma, Ralph -- have you been sleeping for the last fifteen years.  Who is going to create jobs for Americans if not corporations...?"

      "The government," Nader responds.  "And small business..."

      "Come on, Ralph," Crossmann says.  "We aren't going back to New England and the original 13 Colonies.  And the government as employer?  Are you kidding me?  You want a communist world?  Read a few books on Mao, Stalin of Pol Pot.  Get with it.  The Russians fouled their environment under the communists worse then we ever did in the west..."

      "You don't know how deep this conspiracy runs," Nader says. 

      "They are us, Ralph," Crossmann says.  "Business has run the world for an eternity.  Are you going to create a world that has no business.  Then what do you have: a world of universal poverty, like the communists had...."

      "Materialism is a crime against humanity," Nader says.  "A crime against the environment...!"

      "Yes, Ralph," Crossmann says.  "That is the virtuous positon, I guess.  It is the anti-man position."

      "I'm not anti-man," Nader says.  "How can you say such a thing?  I'm sick and tired of America using up all the world's resources.  I'm sick and tired of this country's selfishness.  Greed.  Superficiality...!

      "You want to punish America?" Crossmann asks.

      "Yes.  Why not?  America deserves to be punished."

      "You want to punish yourself," Crossmann says.  "You want to take you place on the cross."

      "No -- isn't that your position?" Nader says.  "I'm an atheist, remember!"

      "You're trapped in a box, Ralph," Crossmann says.  "Your intellect can only take you so far, in negation.  You hate your father.  You can't forgive your father -- because you can't forgive yourself..."

      "Oh, pop psychology," Nader says.  "I didn't think you'd stoop to that...!  You have no idealism, Crossmann!  You have lost your soul..!"

      "The intellect is the principle that dies, Ralph," Crossmann says.  "You've reached a dead-end.  Your negativity toward the existing world is a kind of sterility you live in.  You can't love the world.  You demand that the world be destroyed.  You hate man.  You want to see man wiped out.  You claim that man is destroying Nature -- but you refuse to see that man is an agent of nature, even when his greed destroys..."

      "You rationalize everything," Nader says.  "I am a revolultionary.  You are a conservative.  You have learned to defend the status quo.  I say no to the status quo.  I say..."

      "You say the world is not good enough," Crossmann says.  "You think you are God.  You think the world has to follow you -- and if it does not, then it deserves to be destroyed...!  You have no life in the next world, Ralph.  Because the next world is a spiritual world, Ralph. And you do not believe in spirit..."

      "You used to be on our side," Nader says.  "What happened to you, man...?"

      "I grew up," Crossmann says.  "You want to dramatize your life by demanding the whole world die with you.  You do not believe that you are eternal.  And because of this, everything is dramatic now.  The world is ending.  The world is dying.  But it is not the world that is ending, or dying, Ralph.  It is just you.  You are dying.  And you are afraid.  You don't want to die alone -- because you fear that death is the end of you.  And because you don't want to die alone, you create scenarios in which the whole world dies with you, either through nuclear catastrophe or global warming or some kind of biological holocaust.  I don't fear death.  I know that when I die, it is not the end of anything.  I will continue.  I am Life; and I will continue.  I don't require that the world be punished for being imperfect.  You believe you are right.  The other side is wrong.  That is an illusion.  That is a belief.  You are a mirror reflecting another mirror.  The universe is convex; the anti-universe is convex.  The convex translates everything is a reversed manner: upside down.  The two sides rage at one another.  Both sides believe they are right.  They hate one another.  They fight wars.  But neither side is right.  Both sides are caught in the illusion of their own perceptions.  You are on one side of the illusion.  You are in the anti-universe....

      "And you are on the other side of the illusion," Nader says.  "You justify the rape of our environment...!"

      "People need to work!" Crossmann says.

      "People don't need to work!" Nader says.  "That's a Western construct.  We need to challenge all of our values, all of our conceptions..."

      "You wish to jerk us back into the past," Crossmann says, "perhaps with genuine belief in producing a utopia, a what, a peasant utopia? -- a belief much like Pol Pot may have held in Cambodia..."

      "You have a way of twisting your opposition's argument into a distasteful extreme."

      "You claim you are a revolutionary..."

      "My revolution is against...."

      "What?  Capitalism...?"

      "Greed."

      "What you call greed, another man might call the desire of a man to care for his family materially," Crossmann says.

      "The Greed of the state, of the nation," Nader cries.

      "Each nation is a life.  Each life goes through cycles of materiality and cycles of anti-materiality, or spirituality -- cycles of Day and cycles of Night.  Youth creates wealth and age discards wealth.  Where the women have freedom, where water is worshipped, the society is wealthy -- there is water and fertility.  Where the women have no freedom -- such as in Islamic society -- there is poverty and agricultural fallowness, desert..."

      "Why do you appear to me," Nader asks -- "why do you speak to me...?"

      "I wish to save you," Crossmann says.

      "Save me from what?" Nader asks.

      "From time," Crossmann says.  "To save you by my word, by my vision.  I appear to you, and seek to bring you on to my ark..."

      "Because some kind of flood is coming?" Nader asks.

      "A flood is always coming," Crossmann says.

      "You think you are Jesus then?" Nader says.  "You will save me from....death...?"

      "You are spiritually dead now," Crossmann says.  "Because you are filled with hate..."

      "I have to give up my hate in order to be saved?" Nader asks.  "I have to give up my rage...?"

      "Yes," Crossmann says.  "You have to stop hating your father."

      "Why should I stop hating my father?" Nader says.  "What if my father was evil?  Should I forgive evil...?"

      "In yourself?" Crossmann asks.

      "I have cast evil out of myself!" Nader cries.

      "If you will be virtue only, then someone else must be evil, by definition," Crossmann says.  "You force anotehr to play the role of the Devil in your drama...."

      "As you did with Gilbert, the demon in your book?" Nader asks.

      "Yes.  Well, Gilbert attacked me?" Crossmann responds.  "I did not judge him..."

      "Not his person," Nader says, " but you did attack him philosophically.  You attacked him as 'Chaos' -- you called him 'Chaos'.  You called him Grindel...."

      "Yes," Crossmann says. 

      "You attack you own brother," Nader says.

      "I attack him like I attack you," Crossmann says.  "I attack his philosophy -- because it is a philosophy which sought to kill me..."

      "You are a cowboy," Nader says.  "And he is an Indian."

      "Yes.  He too is a cowboy: anti-cowboy; and also cowboy."

      "You are afraid of the truth!" Nader cries.  "You are evil!  Your society is evil!   Consumerism is evil!  You are afraid of facing this!  So, you obscure the truth to protect yourself...!"

      "You are a demon," Crossmann says.  "You long for the Night.  The Night is where nothing happens.  Where the dreamer rules.  You have no physical body.  Your view of the body is that it is evil.  Business -- the corporation -- is the Day Body of the culture.  Because your are anti-materialistic, you have no place in the Day.  Your philosophy condemns the Day.  So you predict the Night will come.  That is all you can do: predict the Night will come, long for the Night, call for the Night -- because only during the night do you have power..."

      "Untie me," Nader says.

      "Why should I?" Crossmann asks.

      "So I can join the debate?" Nader says.

      "America doesn't need a third-party," Crossmann says.  "The two-party system is closest to nature."

      "These two parties don't represent the vast majority of Americans," Nader insists.

      "The mechanism is more important that the opinions," Crossmann says.  "The Republicans are the Sun; and the Democrats are the Moon.  Each rules for a time.  Then the other rules.  The mechanism matters more than any personality or ideology.  We don't need a third party.  The two parties, as our Founding Fathers understood, is the model closest to nature....  I will untie you -- but you need to go home..."

      Crossman begins to untie Nader.

      There is a knock on the door.

      Knock _ _ _ Knock _ _ _ Knock.

      It is not the correct knock.

      Crossmann wonders how the black assassin, the one who looks like Lou Rawls, could have known Jim's secret knock.  Did Jim tell him...?

      "Untie me!" Nader demands.

      Crossmann holds his figer to his lips, suggesting silence in Nader, and walks to the door.

      "Mister Crossmann," the man says through the door.  "we need you in the studio now."

      Suddenly Crossmann remembers the Springer show.

      He looks through the peep-hole.  It is the same studio boy as earlier.

      How did he find me?

      Crossmann opens the door and leaves the room, leaving Nader behind, tied on the couch. 

      I must get out of here.  I won't be on that show.  I won't stoop to that level.

      Crossmann is walking behind the studio boy.  The studio boy leads him down a hallway toward the studio; but there is another hallway off to the right.  Crossmann takes the hall to the right -- and he begins to run.  In the back of his mind is the black assassin whose gun misfired; and also the white assassin, Jerry Springer, the character assassin, king of the mud culture: a mud fish, living at the bottom of the pond...

 

The hallway is dark again.  There is a door at the end of the hallway.  It is locked.  Crossmann uses his Key to the City.  The door opens.

      Crossmann enters a corporate conference room.  A long table, with seats for ten or so. 

      Three people are waiting for him: an older man, with white hair brushed back, long hair, lookig artistic.  He is dressed in herring bone; there is an unlit pipe on the table lying beside an ash tray.  There is a younger man, perhaps in his late forties, with a beard, a strong nose and a self-contented look.  And there is a woman in her late forties wearing a business suit, olive green, with short hair and glasses.  Very much a professional woman.

      The older man begins: "Please sit down, Mister Crossmann -- can I call you Michael?  Yes, well you know the reason we have asked you here.  We have read your manuscript -- and we obviously like it very much.  Harold Bloom showed  me the manuscript, and asked that I read it.  I think it is probably the most amibitious work I have read in many, many years.  Perhaps ever..."

      This man is named Malcolm Jeffers.

      "The manuscript is not without problems, however," Jennifer Peale comes it.  Crossmann notices that she has been tapping the eraser end of her pencil on a file folder while Malcolm has been talking.  "We all agree that this is a major work of literature.  But it is not publishable in its present condition..."

      "What does that mean?" Crossmann asks.

      "No one will read it as it exists now," Jennifer Peale replies.  "It is sprauling, formless.  It is more amorphous that the most amorphous works of Thomas Wolfe...."

      "It is the story of a soul finding its way in the darkness," Crossmann replies.

      "Yes, yes, I know what you say, how you explain it," Jennifer responds.  "But my job is to sell this book to the public.  My job is to make a bestseller out of it..."

      "What?" Crossmann asks.

      "Yes.  This is no gravy train," Jennifer responds.  "We have to make a profit out of this.  We are running a business here."

      "Are you looking at making it a best-seller over ten weeks or over one hundred years?" Crossmann asks.

      "Ten weeks," Jennifer replies.

      "Well, this is not pulp fiction," Crossmann responds.  "This book is not an easy read -- and it will require a disciplined audience, something we do not have in America today..."

      "That is the problem," Jennifer replies. 

      "You have a responsibility to educate the public," Crossmann says, "not coddle them, or kow-tow to their questionnable tastes.  Where are America's great writers?  If everything needs to be an easy read, in line with a lazy public taste, then great literature will never come out of America.  You have a responsibility to give the world its great literature even if it is not lucrative in the short term.  When the world looks back at American Civilization a thousand years from now, will we have given the world a Shakespeare, a Tolstory, a James Joyce...!"

      "Thank you for telling us what our responsibility is," Jennifer replies.  "I'm sure we wouldn't recognize it without your spelling it out for us."

      "We've gotten off to a bad start," Malcolm comes in.

      "Yes," Edward Ratcliffe agrees.  He is the second man.  "We do want to publish your novel.  We agree that we do have a responsibility to publish great literature..."

      "But your manuscript is lacking in structure," Jennifer says.  "It needs work."

      "This manuscript is all structure," Crossmann replies.  "If you say it lacks structure, then you do not understand the novel..."

      "It lacks an obvious structure," Jennifer corrects herself.  "You have read Joseph Campbell's A Hero With A Thousand Faces, I'm sure.  He talks about the Hero's journey.  The stages of the Hero's journey.  I think we could re-structure this along those guidelines, making it more clearly a journey, a Hero's journey...."

      "That's what it is right now," Crossmann says.  "You don't understand the novel..."

      "It's very hard to read," Jennifer says.  "It's so....tedious..."

      Crossmann turns to Malcolm Jeffers.

      "I can't work with someone who hasn't even read the manuscript," Crossmann says.

      "Jennifer has a great track record as an editor," Jeffers says.

      "She has..." Edward Ratcliffe begins.

      "I have the record at this company," Jennifer responds, cutting off Ratcliffe.  "I had thirteen bestselling authors last year -- that is a record at this company...."

      "I won't work with her," Crossmann says.  "If that means we can't do a deal, then fine.  Give me back my manuscript -- I'll go somewhere else.  I'm not going to work with some climber whose expertise is satisfying the current hunger of mass culture..."

      "You're an elitist, are you?" Jennifer asks, quite shocked by Crossmann's reaction.  "I suspected as much.  I know you're a sexist.  There is a great deal in this novel that is not acceptable content-wise also.  It does not treat women very well.  And it seems to suggest some religious rationale for racism.  I'm not saying you are a racist, because the book clearly comes out on the side of democracy and racial integration.  But some of the ideas presented here are...well they are not.... politically correct...."

      "So, we want literature to be polical propaganda, is that it?" Crossmann asks.

      "No, clearly not," Malcolm responds.  "Those are Jennifer's ideas, not the view of the company...."

      "I would he ashamed to have my name on a book like this," Jennifer says, "a book published by our company with this level of moral ambiguity expressed..."

      "Well, I won't work with her anyway," Crossmann says to Malcolm.  "She's a fucking real estate salesman, a fucking stock broker.  Give me a real editor; or I'll try to find another company to work with..."

      Jennifer rises from the table, fuming.

      "Your name doesn't go on the book, sister," Crossmann says.  "If you want your name on a book, then write a book.  If you want to control the flow of ideas in a book -- to make propaganda -- then write your own book...!"

      "This company will never publish your work!" Jennifer screams.  "I'll see to that...!"

      She is gone.

      There is an awkward momentary silence.

      "So, where are we?" Crossmann asks.  "Are we finished -- or are you going to give me a different editor...?"

      "I'm sorry that happened," Malcom says.  "Jennifer asked for this assignment.  She usually works quite well with authors..."

      "Malcolm and I still are very committed to publishing your novel," Edward says.  "We realize that this book will return us more prestige than income at first.  We have a longer-range picture than Jennifer does.  The key, for us, will be to have the novel receive serious critical attention.  With critical attention will come the rewards we are looking for -- and, perhaps, a long-term readership..."

      "Edward and I are prepared to have this book lose money, if need be," Malcolm says.  "We are not supposed to say that -- that's never our goal.  But we have had a good year.  And we are prepared to let the best-selling authors pay for some authors who probably won't appeal to the mass taste..."

      "We have had several of our associates -- sophisticated readers: writers, critics, university professors -- look at pieces of this work," Edward says.  "We are sure we can have a good first barrage of positive reviews for the novel.  Harold Bloom wants to write a preface.  So I think we can make a critical splash that will serve us well, so the novel doesn't just hit the water and sink from a lack of attention...."

      "And what about these changes Jennifer was talking about?"

      "We understand that this novel is difficult," Malcolm says.  "It reminded me of Proust in some ways -- the focus on structure.  I will work with you personally on this novel.  I will be your editor.  The company has been squeezing me out anyway -- retiring me.  I will make this novel my last act, I guess.  Don't worry about Jennifer.  She has enough on her plalte already.  She sniffed out some glory in this project -- and she wanted it.  But she's a formula person.  Everything has to fit in her formula.  I'll calm her down.  I've never seen anyone explode on her like that..."

      "We'll work up a contract for you," Edward says.  "Where are you staying...?"

      "With a friend," Crossmann says. 

      "Ok," Edward responds.  "Can we call you tomorrow?  Or can you call us...?"

      "I can call you," Crossmann says. 

      "Good," Edward says, handing Crossmann his business card.         

      The two men rise from the table; each shakes Crossmann's hand.  They leave the room.

      Crossmann leaves by the door he entered.

      He is back out in the dark hallway.  Which way to go?   Back toward Springer?  God, no.  He goes back inside the conference room.  The room is empty.  He takes the same door the others have used, into the publishing house.  But the door leads to another hallway.  Crossmann moves through the hallway to another door at the end of the hall.  It is locked also.  He uses his key.

     

The door opens out on an elegant formal space.

      Crossmann closes the door behind him: it is labeled 'Janitor'.

      This makes him smile.

      He turns and begins to mingle with people.  Everyone is dressed formally.  It is a concert hall.

      Crossmann realizes he is in the opera house -- it must be the Met.

      He looks around, hoping to see Leslie Rhodes.  He knows she is here somewhere.  But it is hard to see very far.  The people are all clustered together, what seems like a thousand people.  She said she would leave him a ticket at the box office.

      Crossmann pushes through the crowd: many beautiful women, dressed in all colors: red, blue, gold.  Low cut gowns.  A lot of attractive bosoms.  The crowd feels like money.  Everyone is rich.

      He reaches the box office on the second floor.  There is a line.  He waits patiently.

      He looks around.  Strangers everywhere.  He recognizes no one

      He inches forward.

      A tiny bell-sound splashes three times.  People begin to move gently toward the doors of the concert hall.

      He looks for Leslie Rhodes.  She is not to be found.  She must have left a ticket for him.

      He moves to the ticket window.

      "I believe someone left a ticket for me," Crossmann tells the woman behind the glass.

      "Yes, sir," the woman replies.  "For which opera..?"

      "For Fidelio, I believe," Crossmann says.

      "Your name?"

      "Michael Crossmann."

      She recognizes the name, looking up, brightening: "Oh, Mister Crossmann.  Welcome to New York.  Yes, here is your ticket."

      She hands him the ticket through the hole in the window.

      "Enjoy the show, sir," she says. 

      She is about thirty-five years old, with brown hair, and a charming smile.

      "I'm planning to vote for you, Mister Crossmann," she says finally.

      "Pardon me."

      "I'm planning to vote for you -- for president," the woman explains.

      "Oh, yes, thank you," Crossmann says.

      Her eyes have a sparkle that Crossmann finds alluring.  He smiles at her sincerely.

      He moves back into the crowd, allowing himself to be swept toward the entrance to the opera hall.  Crossmann recognizes no one.  He nods to a few people, an old man with his seventy-year-old wife.  A woman in her mid-fifties with a twenty-year old escort.  Several face-lifts already.  A rich man's wife.  Perhaps he's dead.  Perhaps he's with his mistress.  She gives Crossmann a long look, an interested look.

      Crossmann looks away, feeling almost sinful.

      Thinking about Leslie is very hard for him now.  It has been almost twenty-five years.  He feels his heart begin to pound.  He still loves her -- not the real her probably.  The one he remembers.  The one still living in his mind.

      She's waiting inside to see him.

      This makes Crossmann nervous.  His palms are sweating.  His face feels red, hot.

      He is swept toward the door.  He gives his ticket to a young man.

      "Sorry, sir," the young man says.  "This ticket is not for this opera.  It's for the one downstairs..."

      "Oh, there must be a mistake!" Crossmann says.  "Isn't this Fidelio...?"

      "Yes, sir," the ticket-taker says.  "But your ticket isn't for Fidelio -- it's for  Faust.  Faust is being performed downstairs.  Faust is on the bottom floor; and Wagner is in the middle hall...."

      Crossmann looks at the ticket: "Faust, Charles Gounod."

      Something must be wrong.  He remembers Leslie saying the opera was Fidelio.  Perhaps she couldn't get tickets to Fidelio.  Perhaps she's waiting for him below, at Faust.

     

Crossmann begins to swim against the tide, bumping up against well-dressed people who are swarming toward the main opera hall.

      Crossmann pushes and shoves, trying to be gentle, but resisting being swallowed by the mass of bodies. 

      He forces his way to the staircase; and he begins his descent, still moving against the tide, but a lighter flow now.  He makes his way down the stairs.  There are very few people moving in his direction.  Why?  What's wrong with Gounod?  The 'Mass of Saint Ceclia' was wonderful.  But few people seem to be going below.

      Crossmann asks an usher he meets on the stairs: "How much further to Faust?"

      "Keep walking," the usher says, smoking a cigarette, leaving against a railing.  Not looking at Crossmann.  Surly.

      Crossmann continues his descent.

      Finally, deep in the bowels of the building, the stairs end.  There is a somber lobby off to the right.  A bell is ringing softly three times.  But there are many fewer people in the lobby.  Crossmann moves toward the opera hall.  He gives his ticket to a solitary older man.  He tears the ticket in two -- and hands Crossmann a ticket stub and a program.

      Crossmann enters the hall.

      His ticket is for seat H-111.  He moves to section H, in the mezzanine. He finds seat 111.

      The hall is only half-full.

      His heart is beating wildly.  This will be the perfect place for romance again.

      There is no one seated next to him.

      He looks for Leslie Rhodes.  He doesn't see her.

      He sees a fat woman in an electric blue evening gown sitting next to her withered bald husband two seats from his.

      He sits down.  He feels lost.

      Did she leave him a ticket for the wrong opera?  How could that have happened?

      The lights go down.  The curtain rises.

 

The scene opens on an old man's study.  It is dusty, dark.  Faust is sitting at a large table littered with papers.  He is surrounded by open books.  He is sitting with head in hands, despairing.

      The music lets out a deep sign of despair.  Then silence.  A whispering skirmish in the soul.  Then another exhalation of sorrow and loss.  Dark air hanging in the room, on the dusty drapery keeping the sunlight out.  The soul rumbling in isolation.  A storm building.  Low, fulminating strings; dark blue impressions.  Alone.  Fashioned out of nothing, into nothing, nothing more: a lonely man, empty, years of study, years of turning his back on the world, seeking knowledge, magic, mystery.  But now, his body sore, broken, afraid of the sun, doubting his own faith in his quest.  A sad flute.  A vanishing incentive.  Lonely voice.  A beaker of poison on the table.  Suicidal man.

 

    Faust

Nichts!....

Vergebliches MŸhn in tausend wachen NŠchten,

Die Natur fibt kein RŠtsel preis,

Und keine Antwort kommt von hšh ren MŠchten,

Kein Trost belohnt den Flei§.

 

In vain!

In vain I have studied the mystery of creation

In my long vigils through the night.

I hear no voice, no word of consolation;

I see no ray of light.

I have yearned, lonely and despairing,

Powerless to sever the chain,

That is binding me to the living.

I see no truth; I see no light.

No! No!

 

            (He closes the book and stands up.)

 

The sky lightens! Dark night melts away

As the new dawn advances!...

Another day! Another day grows bright!

O Death, when will you come

And shelter me beneath your wing?

 

                        He takes a phial from the table.

 

Well, since Death shuns me,

Why should I not go to him?

Hail, O my last mroning!

Fearless, I reach

My journey's end;

And I am, with this potion,

The sole master of my fate!

 

                        He pours the contents of the phial inside a crystal beaker.

                        As he is about to drink, girlish voices are heard outside.

 

    Young Girls (outside)

Ah!

Lazy girl, who are

Still slumbering!

The day already shines

In its golden cloak

The bird already sings

Its careless songs;

The caressing dawn

Smiles on the harvest;

The brook prattles,

The flower opens to daylight,

All nature

Awakens to love!

 

    Faust

Idle echoes of human bliss,

Go your way!

Go by, go by!

O you, my forefathers' cup, so often filled,

Why do you thus shake in my hand?

 

                        Again he raises the beaker to his lips.

 

    Peasants

Dawn calls us back to the fields;

One can scarcely see the lark

Soaring and suddenly diving down

In the deep azure of the sky!

Fair is the aether, fair the earth;

Blessed be God!

 

    Young Girls and Peasants

Blessed be God!

 

    Faust (putting down his beaker)

God! God! God!

 

                        He drops back in his armchair.

 

But what can this God of theirs do for me?

Will he give me back love, youth and faith?

A curse on you, O human pleasures?

A curse on the fetters

Which have me grovelling on this earth!

A curse all on that deceives us,

Idle hope which speeds away with the hours,

Dream of love or of battle!

A curse on happiness, a curse on science,

Prayer and faith!

A curse on you, patience!

Satan, come to me!

 

    Mephistopheles (suddenly appearing)

Ich bin da! -- Wieso das Erstaunen?

 

I am here! -- Is that so surprising?

Is my attire not to your taste?

My sword at my side, a feather in my hat,

Money in my purse, a splendid cloak

Over my shoulder; in short,

A real lord!

Well doctor, what do you want with me?

Come now, speak, are you afraid of me?

 

    Faust

No!

 

    Mephistopheles

Do you doubt my power?

 

    Faust

Perhaps I do!

 

    Mephistopheles

Put it to the test then!

 

    Faust

Go away!

 

    Mephistopheles

Shame! Is this how you thank me?

Let me tell you that with Satan

One must sing another tune

And that there was no need

To call him such a long way

Only to show him the door!

 

    Faust

Well, what can you do for me?

 

    Mephistopheles

Everthing! But first, tell me

What is it you want?

Is it gold?

 

    Faust

What should I do with riches?

 

    Mephistopheles

Very well! I see where the shoe pinches!

You yearn for glory!

 

    Faust

More than that!

 

    Mephistopheles

Power, then?

 

    Faust

No! I want a treasure

Which contains them all!

I want youth!

Then, pleasure will be mine,

So will young mistresses!

Mine their caresses!

Mine their desires!

Mine the energy

Of powerful instincts

And the mad orgy

of the heart and senses!

Fiery youth,

I want your desires,

I want your raptures,

I want your pleasures!...

 

    Mephistopheles

Very well! I can gratify your whim!

 

    Faust

And what shall I give you in return?

 

    Mephistopheles

A mere trifle.

Here, I am in your service

But down there, you will be in mine.

 

    Faust

Down there?

 

    Mephistopheles (holding out a parchment)

Down there! Come now, sign this.

What, your hand is shaking?

What can I find to urge you on?

Youth is calling you, be bold enough to look at it!

 

                        He conjures up a vision of Marguerite sitting at her spinning-wheel.

 

    Faust

O wonder!

 

    Crossmann

It is Leslie!

 

    Mephistopheles

Well? What do you think of it?

 

    Crossmann

She is lovely!  Just as I remember her!

 

Faust (taking the parchment)

    Here!

 

                        He signs.

                        Crossmann sits up, erect in his chair, his hands trembling.

 

    Mephistopheles

We are set!

 

                        He takes the beaker from the table.

 

And now master, I myself invite you

To drain this vessel

Whose effervescent foam

No longer holds the poison of death

But of a life of joy.

 

Faust (seizing the beaker)

 

To you, divine and bewitching vision!

 

                        He drains the beaker and is at once changed into a young and elegant lord. 

                        The vision vanishes.

 

Shall I see her again?

 

    Mephistopheles

No doubt you will.

 

    Faust

When?

 

    Crossmann

When?

 

    Mephistopheles

This very day!

 

    Faust

Very well!

 

    Mephistopheles

We journey!

 

    Faust and Mephistopheles

We journey!

 

    Faust

 

No more shall I pine

For maidens' caresses,

The youthful excesses,

Ecstatic, divine!

Once more the delirious flame

Of passion's fire

And all the enchantment

Of love and desire.

The feverish ardor,

The pain and the bliss,

The joy of the lover,

The passionate kiss.

The feverish ardor,

The pain and the bliss,

The joy of the lover,

The passionate kiss.

 

    Mephistopheles

No more shall you pine

For maidens' caresses,

The youthful excesses,

Ecstatic, divine!

Once more the delirious flame

Of passion's fire

And all the enchantment

Of love and desire.

The feverish ardor,

The pain and the bliss,

The joy of the lover,

The passionate kiss.

The feverish ardor,

The pain and the bliss,

The joy of the lover,

The passionate kiss.

 

Das GlŸck kam zurŸck!

 

            The curtain falls.

 

The audience shifts in its seat uncomfortably.  There are a few coughs, followed by others.  The coughing is contagious.

    Someone sits down next to Crossmann.  He espects to see Leslie Rhodes.

    It is the Magician.

    He is still carrying a bottle of Wild Turkey.

    "My friend!" the Magician says.  "Here, have a drink...!"

    "I don't think so," Crossmann replies, distracted.

    "Don't worry, you'll see her again," the Magician says, handing Crossmann the bottle.  "Go ahead -- it's not poison..."

    Crossmann drinks.  The taste is bitter, like acid.

    "What's in this?" Crossmann asks.

    "You've had it before.  It helps your eyesight," the Magician explains.

    "Are you alright?" Crossmann asks.  "You didn't get hurt back there, did you...?"

    "Where?"

    "When that crazy duck started shooting...."

    "Oh, no.  No crazy duck can hurt me," the Magician says, smiling wildly, his moustache flambuoyant.

 

            The curtain rises.

 

"Shh!" Crossmann demands.  "I want to focus on this...!"

    The Magician is silent for a moment.

    "No doubt you will," he says, rising from his seat.

    He reaches down and snatches Crossmann's eyeglasses off his face.

    Crossmann grabs the Magician's arm.

    "Wear these!" the Magician says, trading his own glasses with Crossmann.

    Crossmann tries the Magician's glasses.  Everything is rosy now.  Everything is more beautiful now; and larger, more dramatic.  He sees much better now.

    The Magician is gone.

 

Crossmann  looks back to the stage.

 

                        One of the town gates. On the left, an inn with the sign of Bacchus sitting

                        astride a barrel. Citizens, students and soldiers are enjoying themselves.

 

    First Students

Wine or beer,

Beer or wine,

May my glass

Be ever full!

Unashamedly,

glass after glass:

A drunkard

Drinks everything!

 

    Wagner

A young addict

Of the barrel

Stops at nothing

Except water!

May your glory,

Your heart's desire,

Be to drink

Now and forever!

 

    First students

A young addict

Of the barrel

Stops at nothing

Except water!

 

                        They toast and drink.

 

    Soldiers

Girls or fortresses,

It's all one, by death!

Old citadels and young mistresses

Are fair game for us!

Whoever is clever

And unscrupulous enough,

Forces them to surrender

And pay a ransom!

 

    Citizens

On Sundays and holidays

I like to talk of war and battles

While distant peoples

Are splitting each others' heads.

I go and sit oin the banks

Which overlook the stream

And watch the boats floating past

As I empty my glass!

 

    Young girls

Look at these bold fellows

Coming over there;

We must not be too cruel,

let's walk a bit slower.

 

    Second students

Look at their impudent faces

And victorious looks!

Friends, we must be on our guard

And hold fast to our hearts!

 

    Matrons

Look at those gentlemen

Rushing after those girls!

Aren't we just as fine as they are,

If not much finer.

You want to please them --

Everyone knows that.

That's all it is -- that's all it is.

You want to please them.

Everyone knows that.

 

    Young Girls

They would like to bewitch,

But they try in vain.

We have nothing to fear

From your wrath.

A lowering brow

Merely grows redder!

Should a lad want me,

I take him at his word.

One must surely trust

All your fine speeches!

Should a lad want me,

I take him at his word.

 

    Matrons

You want to bewitch --

It's plain to see.

What a fine notion!

Be as shameless

As they are tasteless.

One must be a fool,

I do declare,

To pride oneself

On such suitors

One must be a fool.

 

    Citizens

Come neighbour, let us empty

A glass of wine.

My wife scolds me

About everything.

She must always be right.

My wife always scolds me --

She always needs to be right.

 

    Second Students

Let us see this thing

Through to the end.

See how cross they are,

See how they behave

Their brows are loering,

They have good taste!

Let us wager I accepted

At the very first word

Let us wager etc

 

    First Students

Wine or beer,

Beer or wine,

May my glass

Be ever full!

Unashamedly,

glass after glass:

A drunkard

Drinks everything!

 

    Soldiers

Hurray for war!

'Tis a godly calling!

No proud beauties for us!

We know how to please them

In the twinkling of an eye!

Let's go about out task,

With neither fear nor shame,

Let's attack on all sides!

From that firm precept

A soldier excludes

No woman nor castle,

And basking in glory

He celebrates victory

To the sound of the drums.

 

    Valentin (walks in at the back, a small medallion in his hand)

Oh blessed medallion

My sister, Marguite, gave to me,

A charm in days of danger

To keep me safe from harm,

Fondly rest upon my heart.

 

                        He hangs the medallion around his neck.

 

    Wagner

Ah! Here is Valentin, looking for us no doubt!

 

    Valentin

A last glass gentlemen, and we must be off!

 

    Wagner

What is wrong with you?

What regrets sadden our leave-taking?

 

    Valentin

I am sad, I confess.

I go with a heavy heart.

I leave my only sister.

I was her sole protector,

Our mother being dead.

 

    Siebel

You have no cause for worry;

I will protect her in your stead.

 

Valentin (pressing his hand)

    Thank you, friend!

 

    Siebel

On me you can depend!

 

    Students

You can rely on us too!

 

    Valentin

Now that I must say good-bye

To my home and native sky,

Lord, may I entrust to Thee

My sister so dear to me!

Guard her from harm and ill,

Guide her by Thy almight will,

Keep her safe and ever near to tThee,

Lead her upon Thy way, the godly way,

To Thee I humbly pray;

To Thee I pray!

I shall fight for honor and glory

When battle is rating against the mighty foe;

The first to attack, the bravest in the fray,

Rady to die if Fate wills it so.

And if the Lord chooses to call me

Then I shall pray for you in Heaven,

O Marguerite!

Now I must say good-bye

To my home and native sky.

Lord, may I entrust to Thee

My sister, so dear to me,

O Lord above,

To thee I pray,

Warch over Margueite, God above!

 

    Wagner

Come now friends, discard these idle fears!

No tears must be mixed with this good wine!

A drink, a toast and a merry song

To cheer us up!

 

    Students

A drink, a toast and a merry song

To cheer us up!

 

    Wagner (mounting on a stool)

A rat, dirty, gray and ugly,

Very big and fat,

Once sat in a cellar snugly

Under and old vat.

A cat.....

 

Mephistopheles (appearing suddenly)

    I beg your pardon!

 

    Wagner

What?

 

    Mephistopheles

Would you mind, good people,

If I would join your jolly gathering?

First, your friend must finish his song!

Then I, if you wish, will offer you

One of my own.

 

    Wagner (stepping down)

Go ahead with your son.

I know you will not bore us.

 

    Mephistopheles

I shall try my very best;

And you must all join in the chorus.

 

You shall bow to the Golden Calf!

For it holds

Majestic power..

Worship the mighty Golden Calf!

Kings and rulers kneel before him,

Great and humble, young and old,

None resist the lure of gold.

As they slavishly adore him

On his throne above them all...

Satan leads the merry ball!

 

    All

Satan leads the merry ball!

 

    Mephistopheles

The golden calf triumps over the gods;

Basking in

His preposterous glory

The base monster insults Heaven!

He looks down - O strange madness!-

On the human race at his feet

Sallying forth, sword in hand,

Through blood and filth,

Where the burning metal is shining!

And Satan leads the merry ball!

 

    All

And Satan leads the merry ball.

We thank you for your song!

 

    Valentin (aside)

What an odd fellow!

 

    Wagner (handing a glass to Mephistopheles)

Will you do us the honour of drinking with us?

 

    Mephistopheles

With pleasure!

 

                        He takes Wagner's hand and studies it.

 

Ah! This makes me grieve for you!

Do you see this line?

 

    Wagner

Well?

 

    Mephistopheles

An ill-boding sign!

You will be killed in an attack!

 

                        Wagner with draws his hand.

 

    Siebel

Are you a wizard, then?

 

    Mephistopheles (taking Siebel's hand)

Just enough of a wizard

To read in your hand

That fate condemns you

Never to touch a flower again

But it withers.

 

    Siebel (hastily withdrawing his hand)

Me!

 

    Mephistopheles

No more nosegays for Marguerite!

 

    Valentin

My sister!

Who told you her name?

 

    Mephistopheles

Take heed, my fine fellow,

You shall be killed by someone I know!

 

                        He takes the glass from Wagner's hand.

 

Your health!

 

                        He throws the wine away.

 

Pshaw! your wine is revolting!

Allow me to offer you some from my own cellar!

 

                        He raps on the barrel of the inn-sign.

 

Ho there, Lord Bacchus, wine please!

 

                        Wine gushes from the barrel to the feet of the students.

 

Come nearer!

Everyone to his taste!

Let's drink the health you mentioned

But a moment ago, friends: to Marguerite!

 

    Valentin (knocking the glass out of his hand)

Enough of that!

Upon my life

I shall silence you hear and now!

 

                        The wine from the barrel bursts into flames. Valentin and Wagner

                        unsheathe their swords.

 

    Wagner

Ho there!

 

    Students

Ho there!

 

Mephistopheles

    Why do you quake as you threaten me?

   

                        He draws a circle round himself with his sword. Valentin tries to

                        cut him down.  His sword falls to pieces.

 

    Valentin

Amazing! My sword

Breaks in the air!

 

    All

We cannot repulse the spells

Of hell, come to blunt out weaponry!

 

Valentin

    But since you can break swords....

 

    All

But since you can break swords....

 

    Valentin

Look!

 

    All

Look!

 

                        Valentin takes his broken sword by the blade and shows it

                        crosswise to Mephistopheles.

 

    Valentin

It is a cross which protects us from hell!

 

    All

It is a cross which protects us from hell!

 

                        As he sees the cross Mephistopheles draws back.

                        The crowd leaves the stage.

 

    Mephistopheles (sheathing his sword)

We shall meet again, friends!

Your servant!

 

    Crossmann as Faust (entering)

What is wrong with you?

 

    The Magician, as Mephistopheles

Nothing!

Now, to the point, dear doctor,

What do you expect me to do?

What shall I begin with?

 

    Crossmann

Where is the fair girl hding

Whom your arts showed to me?

Was it mere withcraft?

 

    The Magician

Not at all!

But her virtue defends her from us;

And Heaven itself protects her!

 

    Crossmann

No matter! I want to see her!

Come! Lead me to her side

Or I shall part company with you!

 

    The Magician

Enough said! I am too keen on my new office

To let you doubt my zeal for a moment!

Let's wait! In this very spot, at this merry call,

The fair and chaste maid will come before you.

 

                        Arm in arm, students and young girls rush onto the stage.

                        They are followed by citizens and before them prance fiddlers.

 

    Chorus

Just as the light breeze

Blows up into thick swirling clouds

The dust of the furrows,

Let the waltz carry us away!

make the whole plain resound

With the clamour of your songs!

 

    The Magician (to Crossmann)

See these charming lasses!

Will you not

Offer your arm

To the fairest among them?

 

    Crossmann

No, pray, desist from jeering

And leave my heart to its dream!

 

    Siebel (as he returns)

Marguerite must walk through here!

 

    Young Girls (sidling up to Siebel)

Must a girl invite you to dance?

 

    Siebel

No, no, I have no wish to dance!

 

    Chorus

Light and swift

As summery breezes,

Our feet barely touch on the ground

As we dance the merry round

to the music's lilting sound.

To the waltzes' sweeping measure

Happy voices adding pleasure,

As the flute and trumpet blow

Round and round the dancers go...!

 

                        Marguerite walks in.

 

    Crossmann

It is she.... I see her...!

 

    The Magician

Well then, accost her!

 

    Siebel (starting towards Marguerite)

Marguerite!

 

    The Magician

I beg your pardon!

 

    Siebel

Curse that man! Here is he again!

 

    The Magician

What, my friend, are you here?

Ah, well and truly, my friend, here you are!

 

    Crossmann (stepping up to Marguerite)

My lovely young lady, will you not allow me

To offer you my arm and escort you on your way?

 

    Leslie Rhodes as Marguerite

No thank you, sir: I am neither a lady, nor lovely,

And I really have no need for a supporting arm!

 

                        She walks past Crossmann and disppears.

 

    Crossmann (looking after her)

By Heaven, such grace and modesty!

O fair maid, I love you!

 

    Siebel

She has gone!

 

    The Magician (to Crossmann)

Well?

 

    Crossmann

Well, I am repulsed!

 

The Magician (laughing)

Oh, no, dear doctor -- there you are wrong!

In the art of making love

I must help you along!

 

                        He and Crossmann go out the same way as Marguerite has gone.

 

    Young Girls

What is it?....

 

    Other Young Girls

Marguerite has declined this fine lord's company!

 

    Students

Dancing!  Dancing!  Waltzing!

 

    Young Girls and Students

Dancing!  Dancing!  Waltzing!

On with the dance!

Let's dance again!

Light and swift as summery breezes,

Our feet barely touch on the ground

As we dance the merry round

To the music's lilting sound.

To the waltzes' sweeping measure.

Happy voices adding pleasure,

As the flute and trumpet blow,

Round and round the dancers go.

Excitedly swirling,

Wildly they swing,

The dancers are whirling,

Pleasure is king...!

Their faces are burning,

Their spirits are high.

How fast they are turning

As they fly by...!

See how they are swirling,

Wildly they swing,

The dancers are whirling:

Pleasure is king...!

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

      Crossmann

This is not the play, I say,

For which I came to pay

So dearly. 

All garbled in garrulous imagery and pomp. 

The sad fracturing of love

On a wheel devoted to...

The garmenting of darkness. 

Not he, not me --

The merry imagery giving way to

The bad heritage of destruction. 

 

      The Magician

Then which image do you seek?

 

      Crossmann

Lame imagery of corruption! 

I sought not this satisfaction,

A name on a stage,

A bottle of red mentality,

 The twisting of light into some

Manufactory of memory. 

Faust is lost --

Goethe's blue consideration

On the cross --

Wagner's stupendous gallery. 

I know this road! 

I sought something else!

 

      The Magician

But you had no ticket

To the landscape you desired.

 

      Crossmann
Who gives a man his ticket! 

 

      The Magician


Grim Fatality, I suppose.

 

      Crossmann

The magician's lament --

Lame, lax content.

 

      The Magician

Fatality's incendiary circumference,

I guess.

 

      Crossmann

Pick it from a stack of fates,

All thrown together,

All temperered but with no

Gates

Or feathers. 

 

      The Magician

And you will fight to get

Your own fate back!

 

      Crossmann

Grandmother's green fairie matadors

Of thought. 

 

      The Magician

Do you not love her look --

This priceless purity

In her bearing?

You see her now;

You see yourself strug on the stage!

 

      Crossmann

Strutting and shuttering this hour

On the stage. 

Stuttering and buttering the tower

Of Power in my old age.

I want the real thing, the real flesh!

The real bone!

The real beauty!

 

      The Magician

Is this not it?

 

      Crossmann

As if you don't know --

Singing like a dam daw.

Dawdling like a damned

Awe-struck comedian.

A cur with a plink of rum:

Red rum red rum.

 

      The Magician

Exclusionary remark.

A King's Ransom:

A Queen's Blink.

Eyes of demure.

 

      Crossmann

Exclusionary cause.

 

      The Magician

An impasse?

 

      Crossmann

A cautionary tale.

 

      The Magician

Awake, it you must then.

 

      Crossmann

What fortune in that?

 

      The Magician

Complaints are not the suture

Of men

But of boys!

     

      Crossmann

I wish to move

To a igher place.

 

      The Magician

Of course!  In time!

When it is deserved!

When it is earned!

Here, have another drink!

A nectar squeezed from a

Cactus plant!

A soffit pushed from a querulous

Mushroom!

Pleasure is the king, my friend.

Relax, go to it,

If you want to get through it.

Relax, go to it....

 

      Crossmann

If you want to see through it....!

 

      The Magician

Red rum; red rum...!

   

                                    The curtain rises.

 

Soft french horns.  Soft.  Strings.  Beginning to swirl, the wind beginning the blow.  We are in a garden.  Flowers are blooming.  The soft call of horns.  More light wind coming in.  The flute.  Long, lesurely, stretching, opening something.  Marguerite's garden.  The soft wind carrying the sent of lilac and rose.

 

                        Marguerite's Garden: at the back wall with a small door in it, on

                        the right a cottagE.

 

    Siebel (alone)

Confess to her for me,

Give her my wishes,

Flowers who bloomed at her side,

Tell her she is lovely

And that night and day my heart

Pines for love of her!

Reveal to her soul

The secret of my flame!

Let it breathe  out with you

Sweetest fragrances...

 

                        He picks a flower.  The flower dies in his hand.

 

Withered...Alas,

This God-forsaken wizard

Has cast a spell on me!

I cannot touch a flower

But it withers!

What if I dipped my hand in holy water?

 

                        He dips his hand in the holy water font hanging on the wall.

 

This is where Marguerite

Comes to pray every evening!

Now, quickly, let's see!

 

                        He picks a few flowers.

 

Do they wither?

 

                        He looks at his flowers.

 

No! Satan, I laugh at you!

It is you that I trust,

Speak for me!

May she be acquainted with

The passsion she has roused

And of which my troubled heart

Has not breathed a word.

If love alarms her,

May the flower know

How to drop on her mouth

A gentle kiss...

 

                        He wanders away.

 

      Crossmann (aside)

Stupid boy. 

To think that he, upon my love,

Might fasten some grim cardigan

And shove. 

Replete with high hat;

Replete with gloves.

Does he not ready the papers? 

She is mine -- it is well-known. 

For Time has kept us far awry,

And Time's hairy misnumbering. 

Call it Fate if you must. 

But not this boy --

Not on this night,

This airy Millennium Eve,

Where everything is possible,

Where anything can be done.

 

                        A long loud 'hhhhh' comes

                        from the audience.

 

                        Faust and Mephistopheles come in cautiously.

 

    Crossmann

Is this the place?

 

    The Magician

Follow me.

 

    Crossmann

What are you looking at?

 

    The Magician

Siebel, your rival.

 

    Crossmann

Siebel?  That puff-n-stuff!

 

    The Magician

Hush! Here he comes!

 

                        Mephistopheles and Faust hide in a thicket as Siebel returns clutching

                        a bouquet of flowers.

 

    Siebel

Isn't my posy lovely?

 

    The Magician (aside)

Lovely!

 

      Crossmann

Miserable Sally!

 

    Siebel

Victory!

Tomorrow she shall know the whole tale.

And if she has a wish to know my heart's secret,

A kiss will tell her all.

 

    The Magician (aside)

Wicked man!  Seducer!

   

                        Siebel ties his bouquet  to the cottage door and leaves.

 

    The Magician (to Faust)

You wait for me here, friend.

I:n the meantime I will go

And find a fitting present

To vie with the flowers of Siebel,

Something so rare no words can tell,

Far beyond all imagination.

 

    Crossmann

Go away!

 

    The Magician

As your say;

But you wait here for me!

 

                        Mephistopheles exits.

 

    Crossmann

What unknown emotion now fills me?

I feel that my whole being is in the grip of love.

O Marguerite, here I am your feet!

Hail, chaste and pure dwelling where

One can feel the presence of an innocent and holy soul.

What wealth in this very poverty!

What bliss in this humble cottage!

O Nature, this is where you created her beauty!

This is where the maid grew up beneath your wing,

Slumbered under your gaze!

Here too, breathing into her soul,

You lovingly turned this angel of heaven

Into a fresh, blooming woman.

This is the place..yes...here it is!

How pure, how chaste this modest dwelling.

So rare!  So pure, so chaste this modest dwelling

Where I can feel

The gentle presence

Of one who is fairer than heaven.

 

                        Mephistopheles returns with a jewel case.

 

    The Magician

Watch out! Here she comes!

If the bouquet proves stronger than this case of mine,

I shall relinquish my power.

 

    Crossmann

Let's flee! I never want to see her again!

 

    The Magician

Why this sudden scruple?

 

                        He places the jewel case on the threshold of the cottage.

 

On the threshold of the door,

The case is now laid.

Come! My hopes are high!

 

                        He drags Faust away into the garden. Marguerite enters.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Who was this handsome man

Who addressed me so boldly?

Was he a noble lord?

And why is it he impressed me?

 

      Crossmann

Leslie!  Leslie!

 

      The Magician

She cannot hear you!

Be patient!

Trust in the script.

Have I let you down yet?

 

                        She sings.

 

"Once a king in Thule of old,

Faithful undo death tho his lady,

Kept, to honor her cherished memory

By his side a chalice of gold..."

 

                        She interrupts her song.

 

It seemed to me he was most handsome...

 

                        She resumes her song.

 

"And he prized the cup in his keeping,

Draining it deep on festive days;

And every time it met his gaze

His eyes would overflow with weeping.

Then in his castle by the shore,

The old kin on his pallet lying,

Knowing that soon he'd be dying,

Riased the cup to his lips once more."

 

                        Again she interrupts her song.

 

I hardly knew what to say

And at first I blushed bright red.

 

      Crossmann

She is so lovely.

So delicate her nature.

Still the beauty I remember.

 

      The Magician

You shall know her even better in time.

That is the promise I have made to you.

And to this promise you and I

Have shared a drink!

And a pair of glasses!

                        She resumes her song.

 

"And then, with a last brave endeavor,

He drank once more in her memory.

Then he threw the cup in the sea

And closed his weary eyes for ever...!"

None but great lords possess such a resolute air,

Together with such a gentle nature!

Come now! Think of it no more!

Dear Valentin, if God heeds me,

I shall see you again!

Here I am quite alone!

 

                        She suddenly sees she bouquet.

 

A bouquet?

from Siebel, no doubt.

Poor lad!

 

                        Her eyes fall on the jewel case.

 

What is this I see?

From where could this beautiful case have come?

I dare not touch it and yet...

Here is the key, I think.

What if I opened it? My hand shakes. Why?

It is not wrong to open it, I imagine.

 

                        She opens the jewel case.

 

O goodness! What a lot of jewels!

Is this some bewitching dream

Which dazzles me,

Or am I really awake?

 

      Crossmann

She will not be tricked by this promise of wealth!

Her heart is noble, in fact.

Jewels will not tempt her!

 

      The Magician

Dreamer!

That is why she did not wed you!

You have no sense of material needs!

All women will take jewels!

All except the Virgin herself!

Be real!

Poverty is very real for a woman!

But, even more, elegant beauty

Is the property of jewelry!

 

                        She places the open case on the floor and kneels in front of it.

 

If only I dared

Adorn myself, for a moment,

With these ear-rings!

Ah! There is a mirror

At the bottom of the case!

How could one help admiring oneself?

 

                        She puts on the earrings and looks at herself in the mirror.

 

Ah! I laugh to see how lovely

I look in this mirror!

Is it really you, Marguerite?

Answer me, answer me quickly!

No, no, it is you no longer;

It is no longer your face!

This is the daughter of a king,

To whom everyone bows as she goes past.

Ah, if only he were here,

If only he could see me thus!

He would find me quite handsome

As any young lady!

Let's complete the transformation!

I am longing to try on as well

This bracelet and this necklace!

 

                        She puts them on, first the necklace, then the bracelet.

 

Gracious! It feels like a hand

Clasping my wrist.

Ahh, to be suddenly so beautiful to see...!

Is it you, Marguerite -- is it so...?

Is it really you Marguerite?

So happy would I be

If he could look at me!

Now if I were to meet him

Smilingly I would greet him

Ah, then he would bow to me

In all my royal splendor!

Marguerite, this is not you...!

That's a princess of story --

Yes, it's a princess or a queen

Passing by in her glory!

 

    Dame Martha (coming in at the back)

Good Lord, what do I see?

How beautiful you look, my angel!

How did you get such rich gems?

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Alas, it must have been brought by mistake.

 

    Dame Martha

Not at all!

These jewels are yours,

My dear young lady!

Yes, this is the gift of some love-lorn lord!

My dear husband was not so generous as this!

 

                        Mephistopheles and Faust re-appear.

 

    The Magician

Dame Martha Schwerlein, if you please?

 

    Dame Martha

Who is calling me?

 

    The Magician (to Margueite)

Forgive us for thus daring to intrude upon you!

 

                        To Faust in a low voice.

 

You see how welcome the jewels were!

 

                        Speaking to all.

 

Dame Martha Schwerlein?

 

    Dame Martha

Yes, Here I am!

 

    The Magician

The news I bring

Is hardly likely to make you smile.

Your husband, ma'am, is dead

And sends his greetings!

 

    Dame Martha

Ahh, good Lord!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

What is it?

 

    The Magician

Nothing

 

    Dame Martha

Oh, how dreadful! What unexpected news!

 

    Leslie Rhodes (aside)

In spite of myself, my heart quakes

And flutters when I see him!

 

    Crossmann (aside)

The fever of my sense is dispelled when I see her!

 

    The Magician (to Dame Martha)

Your husband, ma'am is dead

And sends his greetings!

 

    Dame Martha

Have you brought me nothing from him?

 

    The Magician

Nothing! And you must

Punish him, by seeking

This very day someone to take his place.

 

    Crossmann (to Leslie Rhodes)

Why do you take off these jewels?

 

    Leslie Rhodes

These jewels do not belong to me!

Please, suffer me to do so!

 

    The Magician (to Dame Martha)

Who would not be delghted

To excahnge wedding vows with you?

 

    Dame Martha

For shame! I beg your pardon?

 

    The Magician

Alas, how cruel fate is!

 

    Crossmann (to Leslie Rhodes)

Accept my arm for a while!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Desist, I beg of you.

 

    The Magician (to Dame Martha)

May I have your arm?

 

    Dame Martha (aside)

What a charming man!

 

    The Magician (aside)

The neighbour is somewhat too ripe!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

I entreat you!

 

    Dame Martha

What a noble bearing!

 

    Crossmann

Gentle and pure soul!

 

    The Magician

She is somewhat ripe!

 

    Dame Martha

So, you are always travelling?

 

    The Magician

Always! A ruel necissity mn'am,

A cruel necissity!

With neither friend, kin, nor wife! Ah!

 

    Dame Martha

You can afford to when you are still young.

But later on, how sad it is.

To grow old alone and selfishly!

 

    The Magician

I must confess that this dire thought

Has often made me quail!

 

    Dame Martha

Be sure to think about it

Before it is too late, my noble lord!

 

    The Magician

I shall think about it

 

    Dame Martha

Be sure you do!

 

                        Mephistopheles and Dame Martha exit.

 

                        Faust and Marguerite re-enter.

 

    Crossmann (to Leslie Rhodes)

What! Are you always so alone?

 

    Leslie Rhodes

My brother is a soldier; my mother is dead;

Then came another isfortune,

My baby sister also died.

Poor angel! I loved her so dearly!

She was my only care;

What trouble, alas, what anguish!

It is when our souls are thus full of those we love

That Death comes quietly and steals them from us!

No sooner did she wake

Than she wanted to see me!

She loved none but Marguerite!

To see her again, porr darling,

I should glady go through it all again!

 

    Crossmann

If Heaven, smiling the while,

Had made her anything like you,

I do believe she was an angel!

 

                        Mephistopheles and Dame Martha return.

 

    Dame Martha

You don't even hear...!

 

    The Magician

You are wrong, my dear...!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Do you make fun of me?

 

    Crossmann

Heavens, no! I admire you!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

I do not belive you;

You are probably laughing at me

Under your breath!

It is wrong for me to stay

And listen to you..!

And yet I do listen.

 

    Crossmann

Let me take your arm!..

Did not God himself

Set me on this path to you?

Could I deceive you?

My heart speaks to you, my love!

I implore you to stay!

I adore you!  I love you...!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Are you sincere?

In my heart, I fear

You are not sincere...!

 

                        Aside

 

Furtively you laugh;

And I know

I should not believe you...!

 

    Dame Martha

You do not heed me

And you are porbably laughoing at me

Under your breath!

Why do you thus

Hasten back on your way

before listening to me?

 

    The Magician

Do not revile me,

If I must, alas,

Be back on my way.

Need one swear

That he would like to remain

When he is listening to you?

 

                        It begins to grow dark.

 

    Leslie Rhodes (to Crossmann)

You must withdraw!

Night is coming.

 

    Crossmann

Dear love!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Leave me!

 

                        She runs away.

 

    Crossmann (running after her)

Ah, heartless girl, are you fleeing from me?

 

                        Faust runs away, following Marguerite.

 

    The Magician

This conversation is becoming too tender!

Let us sneak away!

 

                        He hides behind a tree.

 

    Dame Martha (aside)

How shall I manage it?

 

                        Aloud

 

Why, has he gone away!

My lord?  Dear, sir...?

 

                        Dame Martha exits.

 

    The Magician (aside)

Yes!  Run after me!

Owl!  Relentless old woman.

I do belive that this merciless

Old hag, by fair means or foul,

Was determined to marry the devil!

 

    Crossmann (off-stage)

Marguerite?

 

    Dame Martha (off-stage)

My dear lord?

 

    The Magician

Your servant.

 

    Crossmann (off-stage)

Marguerite?

 

    Dame Martha (off-stage)

My dear lord?

 

    The Magician

Your servant!

 

                        Siebel cautiouslyopens the garden door at the rear and enters.

 

    Siebel

Courage!...I must gell her everything!

 

    Dame Martha (returning to the stage)

It's him!

 

    The Magician (aside)

No!

 

    Dame Martha

Sir!  Dear, Sir!

 

    Siebel

What is your pleasure?

 

    Dame Martha

It's Siebel!

 

    The Magician

Yes!

 

    Dame Martha

What are you doing

In Marguerite's garden at such an hour?

Come, my fine lover,

I implore you

To take to your heels at once.

 

    Siebel

But...!

 

    Dame Martha

What would the neighbors say, young man!

Go on, lead the way!

 

                        Aside

 

He's on his way!

 

    The Magician (aside)

No!

 

                        Siebel and Dame Martha exit at the rear.

 

Not a moment too soon!

Beneath the dark boughs

Our lovers are wending their way back.

'Tis fine!

I must take care not to disturb such tender effusions.

O night, spread over them your dark veil!

Love, make their ears deaf to untimely remorse!

And you, scented flowers.

Bloom under this accursed hand of mine

And put the last touch to Marguerite's undoing!

 

                        Mephistopheles vansishes as Faust and Marguerite return.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

It is late now..farewell...

 

    Crossmann (detaining her)

What?  Must I plead in vain?

Wait!  Let your hand linger in mine!

Let me gaze on your face

Under the pale beams

Through which your beauty shines,

As though through a cloud,

Caressed by the moon.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

O silence! Happiness! Unutterbale mystery!

Rapturous langour!

I listen and understand this solitary voice

Which sings inside my heart!

Pray allow me...

 

                        She plucks a daisy.

 

    Crossmann

What is all this?

 

    Leslie Rhodes

A childish game!

Please, allow me!

 

    Crossmann

What are your lips whispering?

 

    Leslie Rhodes (plucking the daisy)

Loves me! Loves me not!

Loves me! Not! Loves me ! not! Loves me!

 

    Crossmann

Yes, belive this flower, blooming under your feet!

Let your heart hear it as the voice of heaven itself!

He loves you!

Do you understand this sweet and sublime word?

To love! To carry in our hearts

A constantly renewed flame!

To be forever drunk with eternal bliss!

 

    Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes

Eternal!

 

    Crossmann

O night of love, radiant sky,

O sweet transports!

Silent bliss

Instills heaven

Into both our souls!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

I want to love and worship you!

Speak again!

I am yours! I adore you!

I would die for you!

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Ah, you must leave!

 

    Crossmann

Cruel girl!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

I can hardly bear it!

 

    Crossmann

Must I then part from you?

 

    Leslie Rhodes (entreating him)

Leave me!

Ah, you must go, yes, at once!

I tremble, alas, I am afraid!

Please do not break

Poor Marguerite' s heart !

 

    Crossmann

You want me to leave you!

Alas!...See how unhappy I am!

Marguerite! Marguerite!

You are breaking my heart!

I beseech you!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

If you love me...

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite!

 

                        Faust steals a long, passionate kiss from Marguerite.

                        Her knees grow weak.  She grabs his forearm for support.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

By your love, by this avowal

Which I should have not spoken,

Give in to my plea,

Give in to my wishes!

You must go, yes!

Yes, please go, for me!

 

    Crossmann

You want me, alas, to leave you!

Divine purity!

Chaste innocence

Whose power

Triumphs over my will!

I obey. But tomorrow..

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Yes, tomorrow, as soon as day breaks!

Tomorrow! forever!

 

    Crossmann

Just one more word!

Repeat once more this sweet avowal.

You love me?

 

                        Margujerite breaks free, runs to her door and turns to blow him a kiss.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Farewell!

 

                        She runs into the cottage.

 

    Crossmann

Heavenly bliss! Ah, let's go!

 

    The Magician

Madcap!

 

    Crossmann

You were listening to us?

 

    The Magician

And a good thing too!

You stand in sore need

Of some more schooling, doctor!

 

    Crossmann

Leave me alone!

 

    The Magician

Pray, just listen for a moment

To what she has to tell the stars,

Dear master.

Look! She is opening her window!

 

                        Marguerite stands at the window.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

He loves me! My heart is in a turmoil!

The bird is singing; the wind is rustling;

All the voices of nature

Seem a chorus to my ear:

"He loves you!" Ah, how sweet life is!

Heaven smiles at me; the air intoxicates me!

Does the leaf shake and flutter

With pleasure and love?

Tomorrow! Ah, huury back,

Dear beloved! Please come back!

 

                        Faust rushes to the window and grabs Marguerite's hand.

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Ah!....

 

    The Magician

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ,ha!

Ahh, such a show!

 

                                    The curtain falls.

           

      The Magician

HA, HA, HA, HA, HA HA!

     

      Crossmann

But that is not it! 

It cannot be done! 

The touch of her hand,

The soft flesh of her palm. 

My soul for this? 

For this insinuation of love. 

 

      The Magician

You are a child!

Nothing more than a child!

 

      Crossmann

Dependent upon whom? 

     

      The Magician

Upon myself, no doubt!

An old man set to fall off his bed,

Swirling in some fantastic windstorm...!

 

      Crossmann 

Is it you or is it I you speak of?

 

      The Magician

Time will surely tell us!

 

      Crossmann

Don't stop me now! 

This is not my dream!

The touch of her hand is good --

But I need more..!

 

      The Magician

Follow her then!

 

      Crossmann

Where?

 

      The Magician

This is a family show, man!

What do you expect!

The touch of your hand

Suggests some abominable climax.

 

      Crossmann

Such a useless suggestion!

Sublety is not my art!

 

      The Magician

Talk to Goethe then --

Or Gounod!

That is the script afterall!

Have you no imagination?

 

      Crossmann

Imagination is all I have!

 

      The Magician

A kiss will satisfy you then --

Or do you need more?

 

      Crossmann

Much more surely!

 

      The Magician

Then you must find her!

 

      Crossmann

Where has she gone?

 

      The Magician

Her kind lives above --

Always above.

Up, always up!

You must take the elevator

To find where she lives...!

 

                        Crossmann rises.

 

                        The Magician grabs his arm,

                        directing him to sit.

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

Sad strings come in.  Sorrow.  A death in the heart.  Sorrow building.  Swelling.  The orchestra round.  Marguerite alone.  Like Faust was alone earlier.  The flute trying to come in, trying to raise the spirit out of the dark blue pool of sorrow.  But failing.

 

 

                        Marguerite's room.

 

    Leslie Rhodes (alone)

They have gone now!

I used to laugh with them once,

Now...

 

    Young girls (outside)

The amorous stranger

Runs away and keeps running!

Ah, ah, ah ,ah!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

They were hiding! Heartless girls!

I never found

Harsh enough words

Once, for other people's sins;

The day comes when others

Have no mercy on our own!

 

It is now my turn to be covered in shame!

And yet, God knows it,

I did not act basely;

You were driven to it, my soul,

By nought but tenderness and love!

He returns no more,

I am afraid, I shudder,

I pine away, alas!

In vain does the hour stirke;

He returns no more!

Wherever can he be?

Alone at my window

I look far away, alas,

As far as the eye can reach!

Wherever can he be?

He returns no more.

I dare not complain,

I must stell myself,

I weep under my breath,

Alas, if only he could

Be told of my grief!

Wherever can he be?

He returns no more.

Ah, to see him!

To hear the fall of his step!

My heart is so weary,

So weary with waiting!

He returns no more.

My lord! My master!

If he were to appear!

What bliss! Alas!

Wherever can he be?

He returns no more.

 

                        Siebel walks in softly.

 

Siebel

    Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Siebel!

 

    Siebel

What? More tears?

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Alas, yours are the only lips that do not curse me!

 

    Siebel

I am only a child,

But my heart is that of  man!

And I shall take revenge for this base desertion!

I shall kill that man!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Whom?

 

    Siebel

Must I name him?

The faithless man who wrongs you!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

No, be silent!

 

    Siebel

Forgive me! Do you still love him?

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Yes, always, always!

But it is not for you

To comfort my grief!

I am wrong, Siebel, to tell you of him.

 

    Siebel

If happiness invites you to smile,

I feel merry and filled with a sweet emotion;

If grief crushes you, Marguerite,

O Marguerite, O Marguerite,

I weep then, I weep just as you do.

As twin flowers on a single stalk,

Our fates followed a similar course;

As a brother, I grieve to see you unhappy --

O Marguerite, O Marguerite,

I shall always cherish you like a sister!

 

    Leslie Rhodes (taking Siebel's hand)

May you be blessed, Siebel,

Your love is sweet to me.

Those whose cruel hand repulses me

Have not closed against me the doors of God's abode.

I shall go and pray God for my child and for him.

 

                        Marguerite exits.

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

      The Magician

You make the sweet girl cry.

 

      Crossmann

Not I.

Talk to the writer!

It was the script --

A bad script too!

 

      The Magician

You punish her for rejecting you!

 

      Crossmann

That is a lie!

The script, I say!

A damned Frenchman --

Pretending to be a German!

One a quod

And the other a quid.

 

      The Magician

Quodlibet!

The dark imperative of your nature!

You selected this drama!

 

      Crossmann

That is not true!

I selected Fidelio!

 

      The Magician

That is not true!

Your friend selected Fidelio,

In all honesty,

For you and herself.

But, again, you are here alone.

Don't you wish to look inside

Your nature --

For some reason you are here;

For some reason she is there?

Who chose it?

Who really did the choosing?

 

      Crossmann

This opera does not

Allow expansion. 

Everything is stiff, formalized.

Far away from true emotion.

 

      The Magician

You are an actor, dear man.

A singer.

What do you expect?

 

      Crossmann

I wish to be naked and alone

With her!

 

      The Magician

Don't we all!

Man is a victim of his nature.

His chemical order is to fertilize

Every beautiful woman

He sees.

That is what the older women,

Our wives,

Do not understand our natures.

God programs us to procreate

With fertile, youthful women --

No matter what our age!

Our job is to fornicate!

Our job is to replicate!

The seed-bearing man looks always

For the choicest of flowers!

 

      Crossmann

You philosophize when it is

In your interest.

 

      The Magician

You brought it up.

 

      Crossmann

I wish to be naked and alone

With her --

Away from this stage!

 

      The Magician

Oh, but that is not allowed!

She is a married woman, afterall!

You must take what you can get.

And why do you yawn so?

Are you not having fun?

 

      Crossmann

Was there something in that drink

You gave me?

Something twists the world,

Turning it into dream

And fatigue!

 

      The Magician

Shh!  The magic lantern returns!

 

            The curtain rises

 

                        Inside a  church

 

    Leslie Rhodes (kneeling down)

O Lord, Thy humble servant is asking Thy mercy.

See me kneel before Thee and pray.

 

    The Magician

No! You shall not pray! Stike her with terror!

Spirits of evil, hasten here!

 

    Demons

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Who is calling me?

 

    Demons

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

I falter! I die!

Dear God! Merciful God!

Is this already the hour of retribution?

 

    The Magician

Remember the past, when sheltering your bliss

Beneath angels' wings,

You came to worship the Lord in his own temple,

Singing his praise!

When you stammered out a chaste prayer

In a faltering voice

And carried within your heart your mother's kisses

And God, at the same time!

Hear these clamours! Hell is claiming you!

Hell is pursuing you!

Here comes eternal remorse and eternal anguish

In everlasting night!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

God! What voice addresses me thus

In the dark?

Almighty God!

What black veil has suddenly fallen over me?

 

    Invisible Chorus

When the day of the Lord dawns

His cross will shine in heaven

And the whole world will be shattered!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Alas, this pious chant is even more terrifying!

 

    The Magician

No! God no longer forgives you!

The sky no longer dawns for you!

No! No!

 

    Invisible chorus

What shall I tell the Lord then?

Where shall I find a protector

When the innocent himself stands in fear!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Ah, this chant stifles and chokes me!

I am clamped in an iron band!

 

    The Magician

Farewell, nights of love and days of rapture!

A curse on you! Hell awaits you!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Lord!

 

    Leslie Rhodes and the Invisible Chorus

Lord, welcome the prayer

Of unhappy hearts.

May one spark of your light

Shine down on them!

 

    The Magician

Marguerite!

Be accursed!

Hell awaits you!

 

                        Marguerite gives a shriek and falls senseless on the flagstones.

   

                        The curtain falls.

 

      Crossmann

Bastard!

 

      The Magician

It was the script!

I have not the power to change the script!

 

      Crossmann

Still, you enjoy being the monster!

 

      The Magician

I enjoy this setting

Only because it brings you close

To your love!

 

      Crossmann

Liar!  Blackguard!

 

      The Magician

Do you believe I do this

For myself!

On Millennium Eve!

Have I nothing better to do

Than sit in a hall half filled with

Stuffed shirts?

In a stuffed shirt myself

Arching vowels and singing

Like polished canine!

 

      Crossmann

Then why?

 

      The Magician

Because you are here!

 

      Crossmann

This is for my entertainment?

 

      The Magician

Precisely!

For the elevation of your spirit!

 

      Crossmann

My spirit is already elevated!

 

      The Magician

The elevation of your spirit,

I said --

Not the elevation of your

Bones.

 

      Crossmann

You will not damage my love --

This you must promise!

 

      The Magician

I cannot damage the script!

I cannot change what's writ!

 

      Crossmann

Who makes this law?

 

      The Magician

Someone higher than I!

 

      Crossmann

Scorcese, you mean!

 

      The Magician

Yes, precisely.

Martin Scorcese makes the rules!

 

      Crossmann

Damned Italians --

They think the run the underworld!

But, I tell you,

The demons were here

Long before the Italians showed up!

Satan was here long before Dante!

 

     

                        The curtain rises.

 

                        A street; on the left Marguerite's cottage.

 

    Chorus of soldiers

Let us lay down our weapons!

We are back home at last!

Our tearful mothers,

Our mothers and our sisters,

Shall no longer wait and weep for us.

 

    Valentin (seeing Siebel)

Upon my word, here is Siebel!

 

    Siebel

Indeed it is, I...

 

    Valentin

Come here at once! Let me embrace you!

 

                                    They embrace.

 

Where is Marguerite?

 

    Siebel

I believe she is in church.

 

    Valentin

Yes, praying God on my behalf!

Dear sister,

How attentively she will listen

To the tale of our battles!

 

    Chorus of Soldiers

Yes, it is a pleasure in every home

To tell the children, noiselessly shuddering,

The old men and the young girls

About war and its battles!

Immortal glory

Of our ancestors,

Be loyal to us,

Let's die as they did!

And under your protection,

As victorious soldiers,

Direct our steps, kindle our hearts!

For you, fatherland,

Defying fate,

Your warlike sons

Have faced death!

Your holy voice shouts to us:

Foward, soldiers!

Sword in hand, rush into the fray!

Immortal glory, immortal love!

Let us hasten back to our homes!

We are awaited, peace is now made.

No more sighing!  Let us hurry!

Our country holds out its arms to us!

Love smiles on us, we are love's darlings!

And more than one heart flutters silently

At the memory of our battles!

Immortal glory!  Immortal love!

 

                        Soldiers exit.

 

    Valentin

Come Siebel,

Let us go inside!

A glass in hand, you shall answer my toast!

 

    Siebel (quickly)

No, don't go in!

 

    Valentin

Why not? You turn away your head?

Your eyes will not meet mine!

Siebel, explain your meaning!

 

    Siebel

Welll...no, I cannot!

 

    Valentin (starting towards the house)

What do you mean?

 

    Siebel (detaining him)

Valentin, be merciful!

 

Valentin (struggling free)

Let me go! Let me go!

 

                        He goes inside.

 

    Siebel

Forgive her!

My God, I entreat you!

My God, defend her!

 

                        He runs off ; Mephistophekles and Faust appear.

                        The former carries a guitar.

 

                        Faust walks up to Marguerite's cottage and stops.

 

    The Magician

What are you waiting for now?

Let's go inside.

 

    Crossmann

Silence, accursed one! I am afraid

To bring shame and grief back to this house.

 

    The Magician

What's the use of seeking her again,

Now you have left her?

Our presence would be welcomed

Much more heartily elsewhere.

The witches sabbath awaits us!

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite!

 

    The Magician

I see that my advice is not heeded

And that love triumphs.

But if you want the door to open in front of you

You will certainly need the help of my voice!

 

                        He begins to play his guitar and sing.

 

"You who pretend to sleep

Do you not hear me,

O Catherine, my love,

My voice and my footsteps?"

Thus your suitor calls to you,

And your heart believes him...

Ah, ah, ah...!

Don't open the door, my pretty one,

Till the ring is on your finger!

 

    Crossmann

Keep quiet!

 

    The Magician (singing)

"My beloved Catherine,

Why do you deny

To your entreating lover

So sweet a kiss?"

Thus your suitor pleads

And your heart believes him!...

Ah, ah, ah!...

Don't grant any kisses, my pretty one,

Till the ring is on your finger!

Ah, ah, ah,!......

 

                        Valentin comes out of the house.

 

    Valentin

What do you want, gentlemen?

 

    The Magician

I beg your pardon friend,

But the serenade was not intended for you.

 

    Valentin

My sister no doubt would lend

A readier ear!

 

                        He draws his sword and shatters Mephistopheles' guitar.

 

    Crossmann

His sister!

 

    The Magician (to Valentin)

What is the matter with you?

Don't you like music?

 

    Valentin

You have insulted me long enough!

Which of you must I call to account

For my misfortune and shame?

Which of you must perish by my sword?

 

    The Magician

Shall we begin?

Then draw, doctor, advance, attack!

 

                        Faust draws his sword.

 

    Valentin

O, Lord, protect me now,

My honor's just defender.

Protect me....

My honor's just defender.

My Lord, allow my arm

To slay the vile offender,

That I may shed his blood,

The blood of this offender.

 

    Crossmann (aside)

I shudder at such a deed,

Against a just defender.

May I now shed his blood,

When I am the offender...?

 

    The Magician

At his wrath I can laugh,

How boastful a defender!

I can laugh, my forceful arm

Shall be his best defender...!

 

                        Valentin grasps at the medal on his neck that Marguerite has given

                        him.

 

    Valentin

And you, the treasured medal I wore,

Once-cherished gift of Marguerite,

I do not want you any more.

Accursed medallion:

I spurn your help for evermore...!

 

                        He throws the medallion away.

 

    The Magician

You shall rue your act!

 

    Valentin

Lord, protect me now...!

 

    Crossmann (aside)

Shudder at such a deed...!

 

    The Magician

At his wrath I can laugh...!

 

    Valentin

On guard, now, fight to the death...!

 

    The Magician (to Faust)

Stand close to me

And just thrust, dear doctor, I shall parry!

 

    Valentin

Parry that one...!

 

    The Magician

Very well!  And that one too...!

 

    Valentin

God in heaven...!

 

    The Magician

Come on!  Another...!

 

    Valentin

It is the devil...!

 

    The Magician

Finally, you see...!

 

                        They fight. Mephistopheles thrusts aside Valentin's sword and

                        Faust wounds him. Valentin falls down.

 

There lies our hero, sprawled in the dust!

Away with us, now, away

To safety...!

 

                        Mephistopheles drags Faust away. Dame Martha and some townspeople

                        run in, carrying torches.

 

    Dame Martha and Citizens

This way, this way, friends!

There's fighting in the street!

One of them has fallen here.

Look: there he is!

He is not dead yet.

He seems to be moving!

Come here quickly!

We must come to his aid!

 

    Valentin

Thank you, thank you!

Please spare me your moans!

Upon my word, I have faced death

Too often to be scared of him!

 

    Leslie Rhodes (running in)

Valentin, Valentin!

 

    Valentin

Marguerite, my sister!

What do you want with me? Go away!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Oh Lord!

 

    Valentin

I die through her fault:

I foolishly picked a quarrel

with her lover!

 

    Chorus

Her lover!

 

    Siebel

Mercy! Mercy!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Excruciating pain!

What a dire punishment!

 

    Siebel (to Valentin)

Have pity on her!

Be merciful!

 

    Chorus

He dies through her fault!

He dies at the hand of her lover!

 

    Valentin

Marguerite, listen to me carefully!

Whatever must come, comes at the appointed time!

Death strikes us when he should

And everyone obeys the call from above!

You are now set on an evil course!

Your white hands will work no more!

In order to lead a life of pleasure,

You will relinquish

Every duty and every virtue.

Wretch, how dare you

Still keep the gold chain!

Go! Shame now crushes you!

Remorse dogs your foorsteps.

But the hour will strike at last!

Die! And if God forgives you

May you be cursed in this world!

 

    Chorus

O terror! O blasphemy!

Wretched man, when your last hour has come,

Think of your own salvation, alas...

Forgive, if you want to be one day forgiven.

 

    Valentin

Marguerite!

A curse on you!

Death waits for you on your pallet!

And I die at your hands and fall as a soldier should!

 

                        He dies.

 

    All

May the Lord welcome his soul

And forgive the sinner.

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

Crossmann hears the sound of a train, a whistle blowing several times, as though through a dense fog.  Flutes trailing off.  People cough; shift in their seats.  Many coughs.

      Crossmann looks around, hoping to see Leslie Rhodes. It is too dark to see anything.

 

      Crossmann

So, you have rendered me a killer,

A murderer of my love's

Own brother.

 

      The Magician

Not I!  The script!

 

      Crossmann

What is left now,

But disease?

 

      The Magician

You had to come to the opera!

You were having so much fun

Over at the Museum.

 

      Crossmann

Until that crazy duck

Started shooting...!

 

      The Magician

That was no crazy duck --

She was a plant!

 

      Crossmann

A plant!

Are you crazy --

She was a duck...!

I have a garden;

I do what a plant looks like...!

 

      The Magician

She was working for someone --

Under cover.

Did you see the old guy

Smoking cigarettes like a fiend?

Why do you think no one said

Anything to him --

Made him put out his smoke?

Because he has some weight.

I think he has his own tv show.

 

      Crossmann

And why does he want me dead?

 

      The Magician

Because you were friendly to that

Mulder guy.

 

      Crossmann

Is that a joke?

Is everything a joke to you...!

 

      The Magician

Remember when you believed

That everything was a conspiracy?

That wasn't so long ago.

Now you believe nothing is

A conspiracy!

 

      Crossmann

Now I don't want to think

About it.

 

      The Magician

Think about how you'll escape

From all this.

You know the dry duck tried to kill you;

That charcter looking like Sidney Poitier

Tried to kill you.

 

      Crossmann

Lou Rawls!

 

      The Magician

No.  Lou Rawls has less cheekbones!

His cheeks are sunken!

He looked more like Poitier.

 

      Crossmann

You're crazy. 

You didn't even see this guy.

You weren't even there.

 

      The Magician

Oh, right.

Well, at least two people have tried

To kill you tonight.

Not to mention that bald-headed bastard

Who tried to steal the election.

And what do you think Oprah and

The old reliable Mister Farrakahn

Were talking about --

When they delivered that suitcase of gilders

To your old friend, Mister Jim...?

 

      Crossmann

Shh.  We're back!

 

                                    The curtain rises.

 

                        The Harz Mountains

 

                        Walpurgis Night.   In the dark, demons and witches are holding a sabbath. 

                        Agitated horns.  Luminescent flutes.

 

    Will-o'-the Wisps

Hoch Ÿber Moore,

SŸmpfe, Mere

Ziehen des Irrlichts

Funkenheere...

 

Over the heather

Marshes and meadows,

Light as a feather,

Eerie the shadows,

Airly flashing,

Lower and higher,

Flaming and flushing,

Glowing, a fire:

They float, they hover,

Below and above,

In fields of clover,

In wood and grove,

Flames burning brightly,

Rays blazing red,

Souls of the dead,

Souls drifting lightly....

 

                        Mephistopheles and Faust appear.

 

    Crossmann

No further...!

 

    The Magician

Did you not promise

To accompany me in silence?

 

    Crossmann

Where are we?

 

    The Magician

This is my kingdom!

And here, friend, I reign supreme!

This is Walpurgis night!

 

    Voices

This is Walpurgis Night!

Walpurgis Night...!

 

    Crossmann

My blood freezes!

 

                        He tries to run away.

 

    The Magician (holding him back)

Wait! I have but one sign to make

And everything here will be transformed and lightened

 

                        The mountain opens to reveal a vast palace of glittering gold in the middle of

                        which stands a richly laid table; around it sit the queens and courtesans of

                        antiquity.

 

Until the morning glows in the sky,

Hidden far from profane, mortal glances,

As my guest of honor

You shall feast with heroines of great romances.

 

    Courtesans

As wine flows abounding

The ancient gods we hail,

Joyous songs are resounding,

'Till the sky grows pale.

 

    The Magician

Beauties we adore

Queens from days of yore,

Cleopatra, fair as day,

La•s, in bright array.

Let us all take our place

At the revel and carouse while we may.

 

                        He gives Faust a glass.

 

And you, my friend, this will heal

Your love-stricken heart at last.

Come, take this goblet, drink deeply

And you will soon forget the dreary past!

 

    Courtesans

As wine flows abounding

The ancient gods we hail,

Joyous songs are resounding,

'Till the sky grows pale.

 

    Crossmann

Idle remorse! Preposterous madness!

It is time my heart forgot you!

Here, let's drain it to the dregs!

Sweet nectar, keep my heart

Buried in your rapture,

Let a fiery kiss caress

My pale brow until the daybreak.

Lull my buried heart

To sleep with your rapture!

From this bewitching goblet

I drink everlasting oblivion!

 

    Courtesans

As wine flows abounding

The ancient gods we hail,

Joyous songs are resounding,

'Till the sky grows pale.

 

    The Magician

Midnight! midnight!

The table is set, enjoy yourselves!

Dance!  Sing!

Take the lead, drink!


    Courtesans

Midnight! Midnight!

The table is set, let us enjoy ourselves!

Let us dance!  Let us sing!

Let us take the lead, let us drink!

 

    The Magician

Pleasure is invited

To the feast of life,

The pleasure that Heaven

Refuses to humans,

But gives to the gods.

Intoxicating liquors

Which laugh at Love

And trouble our hearts,

Pierce with your flames

Both our senses and our souls!

 

    The Magician and the Courtesans

Midnight! Midnight!

The table is set, let us enjoy ourselves!

Let us dance!  Let us sing!

Let us take the lead, let us drink!

 

    The Magician

Away with the caresses

Of chaste tendernesses

Which starts with a kiss,

As fearful as a bird

Which is seeking where to alight.

In these mad orgies

On red carpets

The drunken Brocken dies,

Scoffs at remorse,

Seeking love without respite...!

 

    The Magician and the Courtesans

Midnight! Midnight!

The table is set, let us enjoy ourselves!

Let us dance!  Let us sing!

Let us take the lead, let us drink!

 

                        The brilliant light takes on a livid hue. Suddenly, in a vision, Marguerite is

                        seen in her prison cell.

 

    The Magician

May your enchantment, Goddess of Love,

Extinguish all remorse

In this poor lovelorn heart...!

Have you gone mad...?

 

                        Faust suddenly sees Marguerite and throws away his goblet. The palace and

                        courtesans vanish immediately and he and Mephistopheles are back in the

                        valley.

 

    Crossmann

Can you not see her there?

There, in front of us, silent and wan!

What is this strange ornament

Around her lovely neck?

 

    The Magician

Vision!

 

    Crossmann

A scarlet ribbon that she hides!

 

    The Magician

Witchcraft!

 

    Crossmann

A scarlet ribbon,

As narrow as the axe's edge...!

 

    The Magician

Sorcery!

 

                        The vision vanishes.

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite! I cannot bear the horrible sight!

Lead me to her! Come!  I command you...!

 

                        Dragging Mephistopheles after him, Faust opens a way, sword in hand,

                        through the mob of demons and infernal monster, naked men and women,

                          trying to detain him.

    Witches

One, two and three,

Let's count up to thirteen!

Beggars are kings:

We will stir up the embers!

Let the fire,

Red or blue,

Heat the cauldron!

Venom

Is a wine

Pleasing to witches!

One two and three,

Let's count up to thirteen!

Beggars are kings:

We will stir up the embers!

One...two...three...four...

Five...six...seven...eight...

Nine...ten...eleven...twelve...thirteen!

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

      Crossmann

You have chosen this scene,

This epiphany,

Just to toruture me.

 

      The Magician

Nonsense!

Why, I did not choose this opera!

How can I be blamed that your

Are here?

 

      Crossmann

Marguerite is pregnant,

Was pregnant,

Because I touched her hand!

Are we idiots here!

 

      Fat Woman Sitting Near Crossmann

Shhh!

 

      The Magician

The more you complain

The less sympathy you have!

 

      Crossmann

From whom?

 

      The Magician (pointing to the fat woman)

From your audience.

 

      Crossmann

Are you the devil himself, then?

 

      The Magician

In this play, yes, quite truly!

Mephistopheles is the devil!

 

      Crossmann

In your real life --

Here, sitting next to me?

 

      The Magician

I am many things in my real life.

I protect you;

And I also seduce you!

I am a very subtle fellow

As you might have understood --

Being, as you are,

In this fallen condition!

 

      Fat Woman

Shhh!

 

      The Magician

Here comes the best part!

You get to see your love again!

 

                        The curtain rises

   

                        A prison-cell.  A prison drum-roll.

 

                        Marguerite is lying asleep. Mephiostopheles and Faust creep in.

 

    Crossmann (to Mephistopheles)

Go away!

 

    The Magician

It is almost daybreak. They are erecting the scaffold;

Persuade Marguerite to follow you without delay.

The jailer is fast asleep. here is the key.

 

                        He shows Crossmann his own magic key.

 

Your human hand must set her free.

 

    Crossmann

Leave me!

 

    The Magician

Hurry! I shall watch outside.

 

                        Mephistopheles exits.

 

    Crossmann

My heart is overcome with terror.

O torment!

O wellspring of regrets and eternal remorse!

'Tis she, here she is, the sweet creature,

Thrown in the depths of a prison

Like some base criminal!

Despair drove her into madness!

Her poor child, O God, she killed it!

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes (awakening)

Ah, this is my beloved's voice!

His call has revived my heart.

 

      Crossmann

Leslie!

     

      Leslie Rhodes

Only what is in the script, dear one!

 

      Crossmann

I cannot!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You must!

My husband is in the audience!

He will know that I am here

To see you again!

That I am here to touch

Your hand!

And to know you!

Only what is in the script --

You must promise!

 

                        Crossmann shakes his head with disgust.

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Amidst your peals of laughter,

Demons that surround me,

I have recognized his voice.

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

His hand, his gentle hand draws me!

I am free. He has come!

I hear him! I see him!

Yes, here you are! I love you!

My fetters, Death himself,

No longer scare me!

Now I am safe!

Here you are!

I rest on your heart!

 

    Crossmann

Yes, here I am! I love you!

Despite even the efforts

Of the jeering demon,

I have found you!

Now you are safe!

Here I am!

Come, rest on my heart!

 

                        He tries to drag her away. She gently frees herself from his arms.

 

      Crossmann

Leslie!  Come away with me!

We can be free -- together!

We can live the dream we once began

Only to have it shortened

By the laws of life!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

No, Mike!

It is not in the script yet!

God has his own plans,

Plans which keep us away,

Plans which make us drift apart!

It was no accident that we were thrust aside,

Our own dreams, our passions,

Leveled remotely by destiny!

I am not your destiny!

Another is your destiny!

 

      Crossmann

Why do you say this?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Is it not at all clear to you?

God gives; and God takes away --

All this for a reason!

 

      Crossmann

For cruelty perhaps!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You speak like a man without

Memory!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Wait. Here is the street

Where you saw me

For the first time!

Where your hand almost dared

Brush against my fingers:

"My lovely young lady, will you not allow me

To offer you my arm and escort you on your way?"

"No thank you, sir; I am neither a lady, nor  lovely,

And I really have no need of a supporting arm."

 

      Crossmann

Remember when we took our first break

Together?

How we talked and talked

So easily!

And then you told me you were wed!

The second time only --

That next day --

When I asked you again to have

Coffee with me!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I remember!

And then for many months you were gone,

Blown away ike the wind in a Wyoming autumn.

 

      Crossmann

But I returned!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

To the sadness of each of us!

 

      Crossmann

Because two hearts which are one

Cannot remain forever rent!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Love is a cruel feature of the heart!

 

      Crossmann

Then I began to see you often!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I remember!

 

      Crossmann

Do you remember the first kiss?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I remember!

How my heart raced beyond my head!

You said: 'Come over next to me!'

 

      Crossmann

And what did you say?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I don't remember!

 

      Crossmann

You said: 'You come over next to me

If you want to so much!'

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes, I remember!

And then you kissed me,

Softly on the lips.

And I did not kiss back.

 

      Crossmann

You pretended shock.

But your eyes kissed me doubly!

And I said....

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You said: 'See, that was not

So painful!'

 

      Crossmann

And then you fled!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes!  Because I broke the law!

I broke the rules with that kiss!

And because you broke me with that kiss --

You broke me in two...!

 

    Crossmann

Yes, my heart remembers.

But let's escape! Time flies!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

And here is the delightful garden,

Fragrant with myrtle and roses,

Which every evening, stealthily,

You entered once night had fallen.

 

      Crossmann

And I remember when we were alone in my apartment!

We could not stop kissing!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You were a savage seducer --

It's true!

If I only had been free

I, a savage to you, would have been

Too.

 

      Crossmann

Such frustration!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes!

 

      Crossmann

Such madness!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes!

When you left, at least,

My mind came back!

Some kind of peace

Returned to me!

But it was the peace of death!

It was a kind of death I lived in

For many years then!

 

      Crossmann

I too!

For many years I bled

On the inside!

Despair!

A sense of hopeless life!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I could not turn back!

I had a daughter -- then another!

My husband is a good man!

He has his moments of hardness --

It's true.

But he is a decent man,

A God-fearing man,

Who has provided for me

And my children

A good life!

Still, I see you, my heart burns,

My body inflames!

But nothing has changed!

I love you still --

But to him I am wed!

You come here expecting something --

You believe something has changed!

It has not!

Still I am not free!

 

      Crossmann

I, too, shall never be free!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

So dramatic, in your suffering!

Good romantic artist hero!

Always walking the bluffs overlooking

The town,

Wandering in the stormy sky,

As close to death as your are

To life.

You shall meet another.

It is written in the stars!

 

      Crossmann

Another?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes, a wife!

 

      Crossmann

I have a wife!

She has given me darkness!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

A real wife!

One who will give to you

A future!

Do you remember our parting

That sad day

In your apartment?

                                                           

    Crossmann

Yes, my heart recalls it!

But come with me, time is passing!

Come!  Let us leave this place!

Let us hasten!  Time is short,

Dawn is lighting the sky

And the scaffold is being prepared.

The dreadful moment is at hand,

You can still follow me!

Flee from the death that awaits you,

Marguerite!  You must live!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I cannot go!

I cannot leave with you!

I could not then --

And I cannot again!

 

      Crossmann

Walk off this stage with me!

Walk into the night --

Turn your back on your plight!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

No!  The dreadful moment is at hand.

I cannot follow you.

Death awaits me!

You must live alone!

 

    Crossmann

Oh, night of terror!

Be silent, be silent!

I will not allow

This judgment to be carried out!

I shall carry you away in my arms,

To save you from this punishment...!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

No, death awaits me!

Farewell, I cannot,

I cannot follow you.

 

    Crossmann

We must hurry!  Time is short.

Dawn is lightening the sky

And the scaffold is being prepared!

The dreadful moment is at hand!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

No!  No!

 

    Crossmann

You can still follow me!

Flee from death that awaits you!

Marguerite, you must live!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

No!  No!

Farewell!  Death awaits me!

Farewell!  Death awaits me!

Flee alone!  You must live!

 

    Crossmann

Come!

   

    Leslie Rhodes

No!

 

    Crossmann

Come!  Follow me!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

No!

   

                        Mepistopheles reappears.

 

    The Magician

Away then,

Or you both will be lost!

If you do not obey,

No longer count on me!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

The devil, the devil!

Do you see?  There in the shadow;

His fiery eyes are staring at me!

What does he want! Drive the demon away...!

 

    The Magician

Let us leave this dark spot!

It is daybreak;

I can hear our horses

Rap on the cobblestones wiht their noisy feet!

 

                        He tries to drag Faust away.

 

Come, let us save her!

We may still have time!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Dear God, protect me!

Dear God, I beseech you!

 

    Crossmann

Come, Marguerite! Let us flee!

We may still have time!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Pure and radiant angels,

Carry myself up to heaven!

God of justice, I give myself up to you!

God of mercy, I am yours, forgive!

 

    Crossmann

Come, follow me, come I say!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Pure and radiant angels,

Carry myself up to heaven!

 

    The Magician

We must hurry! the hour strikes!

 

    Crossmann

Come, follow me!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

God of justice, I give myself up to you!

God of mercy, I am yours, forgive!

 

    Crossmann

Come, follow me, come I say!

Come! Let us leave this place!

The sky grows light already!

Come, you must obey my bidding!

The sky grows light already!

 

    The Magician

Let us hasten to leave this place!

The sky grows light already!

Follow our steps or I shall forsake you!

Let us hasten to leave this place!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Pure and radiant angels,

Carry myself up to heaven!

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite!

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Why does your eye threaten?

 

    Crossmann

Marguerite.

 

    Leslie Rhodes

Why are those  hands red with blood?

Go away, you fill me with horror!

 

                        She turns and sees three bodies hanging from a rafter in a dusty dawn light. 

                        She falls senseless.

 

    Crossmann

Ah!

 

    The Magician

Judged!

 

    Angelic Choir

Saved!

Christ has risen again!

Christ is born again!

Peace and felicity

To the Master's disciples!

Christ is born again!

Christ has risen again...!

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

Applause explodes on the other side of the curtain.  Crossmann is standing beside the Magician, who is standing next to Leslie Rhodes. 

 

                                    The curtain rises.

 

The audience is standing.

      Thundering applause.  Bravo!  Bravissimo!

      It is difficult to see into the audience because of the dim light.  Hands are flashing; smiles are breaking forth.   Eyes are filled with tears.  Some are gleaming, proud, made beatific by art.  Foreheads reflect the stage light.  Beautiful women are having fantasies about love and the leading men...

      Crossmann seems to have exceptional eyesight now.  Perhaps it is because of the new glasses.  He isn't sure.  He can see into the mezzanine clearly.  He sees himself, sitting near a fat woman in an electric blue evening gown sitting next to her withered bald husband.  Crossmann sees that he has fallen asleep in the mezzanine.

      Lively music begins, a kind of prancing, dancing mood.

      Crossmann begins to sing again:

 

Coux nectar, dans ton ivresse

Tiens mon coeur enseveli!

 

Sweet nectar, drown my heart

In your intoxication!

Until day comes, let a kiss of fire

Caress my pallid brow!

Lull to sleep my drowned heart

In your intoxication!

I drink eternal forgetfulness

From the cup of enchantment!

 

    Courtesans

Oh, sweet nectar!

Oh, sweet nectar!

 

    The Magician and the Courtesans

Let us drink eternal forgetfulness

From this cup of enchantment!

 

    Crossmann

Pleasure, before your charms

Desire is re-awakened!

Let us seize you, Goddess,

Far from Casual alarms;

By your charms

Desire is re-awakened!

And let us drown tearful love

In joy and pleasure!

 

    Courtesans

Oh, pleasure!

 

    The Magician and the Courtesans

And let us drown tearful love

In joy and pleasure!

 

                        Siebel enters, singing to Marguerite.

 

    Don Rhodes (as Siebel)

Unburden your sorrow to my soul!

My insane love has fallen asleep!

Nothing remains of my passion

Except the tenderness of a friend!

Alas! Do not cast doubt

On this silent devotion...!

My heart has received, drop by drop,

The tears which fall from your eyes...!

 

                        Siebel embraces with Marguerite.

 

The audience erupts with applause again.  There is some whistling.  More calls of splendor, admiration.

      The orchestra breaks in to a kind of light waltz.  Background music.

      The singers all bow to the audience.

      Crossmann notices that he is still sleeping in the mezzanine.

      The conductor of the orchestra bows.

      The audience applauds and applauds, until their hands begin to sting, until their arms begin to grow weary.  They feel they can't stop or the artists will not understand the level of their appreciation.  It is all a weary pretense.  Everyone wants to leave.  But they are forced to continue their applause by habit.  They are forced to make the singers bow and bow; and smile.  And then the young girls appear with flowers for all.

      Crossmann feels trapped under the lights.  He wants to charge across the stage to Leslie Rhodes.  She is now to Crossmann's left, still embracing Siebel.  Crossmann is jealous, even angry.  Why is she not with him?

      "Relax," the Magician says.  "Life is a river and you are a piece of driftwood.  Relax; learn to float with the river...!"

      "Is this the best you can do for me?" Crossmann asks.

      "It seems to me that this was good," the Magician says.  "I like your new glasses, by the way.  They make you look like a scholar.  May I call you Professor Crossmann...?"

      "Your charm is but a filter for your deception."

      "Yes.  But better deception filtered through charm than deception merely filtered through itself, don't you think?  I am like your friend, the President: deception filtered through charm..."

      "I don't know what to think," Crossmann says.

      "Don't be so sad," the Magician says.  "You will get what you need.  And don't forget who you are.  Too much sleep has made you a bit brain-weary..."

      Everyone bows again.

      Crossmann eyes Leslie off to his side: her smooth, small neck; her long brown hair, falling over her shoulders; her delciate features, small hands, cultured, innocent....

      Siebel's arm around her shoulder.

      Everyone bows again.

      The audience is insane with joy.  The applause, the recognition, begins to feel a kind of elegant savagery to Crossmann.  He wonders how many cannibals are in the audience, looking down on the stage.

      The curtain falls.

      Relief behind the curtain.  The stately singers, so appropriately stiff and composed in their costumes, can now become what they are truly: pederasts, homosexuals, womanizers, wife-beaters, tax frauds, evangelists, monarchists, idolatrists, greedy materialists, leather lesbians, alcoholics, liars and cheats, politicians, vigilantes, schizophrenics, constipated cancer carriers, heart-breakers, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons; hedonists, ascetic rounders, nymphomaniacs, AIDS infectors, prostitutes, gentlemen scholars, geniuses on parade, walking down city streets trying not to be seen, longing for community, longing for isolation....

      It takes all kinds.

      The curtain is up again.  More applause.

      Down again.  Less applause.

      Up again.  More applause.

      Leslie looks over at Crossmann, giving him an eye to take into his heart, infecting him again with that one small look, a look which no one else sees, no one but the Magician, and, of course, Crossmann.  And perhaps Siebel.  Because Siebel is clearly the jealous type...

      Down again.  Less applause.

      Everyone moves.  It is done.  No more applause.  Everyone leaving.

      Crossmann moves after Leslie Rhodes.  He wants to kiss her on the spot.  On the back of her neck.  To tear off her clothes.  To lay a claim to her soul, right there in front of Siebel.

      But, suddenly, the lights go out on the stage.

      The artists scream, stopping in their tracks.  There is shouting.  Someone cries: "Nobody move...!"

      What is this, some kind of sick joke?

      The lights come back on.

      Relieved laughter.

      But Leslie Rhodes is gone.

      Crossmann turns back to the Magician, who spreads his arms out, palms up, as if to say: "Don't ask me."

      But then the Magician says: "I told you before.  You have to go up if you want to live with Leslie..."

      "Up?" Crossmann says.

      "Yes.  Try the elevator.  You have to go up to live with her.  And you have to have money."

 

Crossmann is in an elevator, alone.  There are three buttons: 1, 2 and 3.  He wants to go to the top floor; he still believes that Leslie is waiting for him in the grand hall in which Fidelio is being presented.  He pushes the button for number 3.  The elevator starts up.

      But it stops at number 1.

      The doors open.

      Crossmann steps on to another stage.

      He is dressed as a knight, standing at the helm of a large main-sail ship.  Behind him, toward the stern, stands a beautiful young princess, with her faithful maid-servent.  Music is booming, heroic; the violins ebb and flow, tight waves dashing against the bow of the ships as it cuts through the sea, driving toward some unfathomable destiny.

 

                        From above, from the masthead we hear again the

 

        Voice of a Young Sailor

Freshly the wind blows

Towards home:

My Irish child,

Where are you now?

Is it your wafting sighs

That swell my sails?

Low, blow, you wind!

Ah, alas, my child!

 

                        Music swells with the sound of the sea.  Isolde's gaze falls on Tristan, and

                        remains coldly fixed on him.  She speaks to herself in a hollow voice

 

      Leslie Rhodes as Isolde

Chosen for me,

Lost to me,

Splendid and strong,

Bold and cowardly!

Head destined for death!

Heart destined for death!

 

                        To Brangaene, her maid-servant, with a dismal laugh

 

What do you think of this upstart?

 

                        Brangaene follows her gaze

 

      Brangaene

Whom do you mean?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

The hero there,

Diverting his gaze

From mine,

In shame and awe

His eyes cast down.

Tell me, how does he strike you?

 

      Brangaene

Do you mean Tristan, dear lady?

The marvel of all kingdoms,

Supremely acclaimed above all others,

The hero without peer,

The shield and guardian of reputation?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (mocking her)

Who timidly flees

From the blow whenever he can,

Because he has won a corpse as a bride

For his master!

Do you think it sinister,

my tale?

Ask him yourself, then,

The free man,

Whether he dares to approach me!

This bashful hero forgets

The correct address demanded by honor

And well-bred attention

To his mistress,

Lest her gaze fall upon him,

This hero without peer.

Oh, he knows well why!

To the proud one go

And tell him what your mistress says:

Ready to attnd me,

He is to come to me at once.

 

      Brangaene

Am I to ask him

To bid your greeting?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Let my command

Teach the vainglorious one

To fear his mistress, Isolde!

 

                        At Isolde's preemptory wave, Brnagaene withdraws and, abashed,

                        walks along the deck, past the ship crew at their work, to the helm.

                        Isolde following her with a wild gaze, moves back towards the couch,

                        where she remains seated during the following action, her eyes

                        unswervingly fixed on the helm.

 

                        Kurwenal, Tristan's mate, seated beside Tristant, sees Brangaene

                        approaching.  He tugs at Tristan's garment without getting up

 

      Kurwenal

Watch out, Tristan,

And envoy from Isolde.

 

      Crossmann as Tristan

What?  Isolde?

 

                        He composes himself; and Brangaene approaches him and makes

                        obeisance.

 

From my lady?

What has the faithful maid,

Obedient to her,

Courteously come

To tell me?

 

      Brangaene

Tristan, my lord,

To see you

Is the wish of Isolde,

My lady.

 

      Crossmann

If the long voyage irks her,

It is near its end!

Before the sun sets

We shall reach land.

May whatever my lady commands

Be faithfully carried out.

 

      Brangaene

Lord Tristan

Is to go to her --

That is my lady's will.

 

      Crossmann

There where the green pastures

Still appear blue to the eye

My king is waiting

For my lady;

To escort her to him

I shall soon approach the radiant one:

To none other would I grant

This grace.

 

      Brangaene

My lord, Tristan,

Listen well.

The lady

Requires you to attend her,

And to proceed

To where she awaits you!

 

      Crossmann

On this spot

Where I am standing

I serve her faithfully,

The most honorable lady;

Were I to leave the helm

At this very hour,

How could I safely steer the craft

To King Mark's land?

 

      Brangaene

Tristan, my lord,

Why do you mock me?

If the foolish maid

Cannot make it clear,

Then hear my lady's words!

Thus, she said, I should speak to you:

Let her command

Teach the vainglorious one

To fear his mistress,

Isolde!

 

                        Kurwenal rises

 

      Kurwenal

Can I giver her an answer?

 

      Tristan (gently)

Why would your answer be?

 

      Kurwenal

Let her say this

To the Lady Isolde!

He who Cornwall's crown

And Enlgland's succession

Bestows upon the Irish girl,

He cannot be

In thrall to the maid,

He who gives her to his uncle.

A lord of the world,

Tristan the hero!

That's my call,

That's what you'll say,

Though a thousand Lady Isoldes

Should vent their rage upon me!

 

                        As Tristan tries to subdue him by gestures, and Brangaene indignanntly

                        turns to leave, Kurwenal sings after her with a full voice as she slowly

                        moves away

 

"Lord Morold went

Off to sea

To exact tribute in Cornwall;

An island floats

In th deolate seas,

There he now lies buried!

But his head is hanging

In Ireland

As tribute paid

To England:

Hail to our hero, Tristan,

He who knows how to exact a tribute!"

 

                        Kurwenal, rebuked by Tristan, climbs down below deck; Brangaene

                        returns to Isolde in dismay and closes the curtain behind her, while

                        outside the whole crew can be heard

 

      Crew

"But his head is hanging

In Ireland

As tribute paid

To England:

Hail to our hero, Tristan,

He who knows how to exact a tribute!"

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

Crossmann is urged to move to the wings.  He passes Leslie, who smiles fleetingly at him.

      He stops to talk with her.

      "Not here!" she says quickly.  Then adds: "I'm glad you found me."

      "Off," Kurwenal says to Crossmann, pushing him toward the wings.  "No love tonight, friend.  Not now.  Your love scene must wait...!"

      Crossmann moves off the stage.

      Off to the side of the stage, the crew has fashioned an interior scene, inside of Isolde's cabin.

      The curtain rises.

 

                        Isolde and Brangaene alone, all the curtains closed.  Isolde stands

                        up with a gesture of hopeless rage.  Brangaene falls at Isolde's feel

 

      Branngaene

Ah! Alas!

To suffer this!

 

                        Isolde is on the point of a fearful outburst; then she quickly pulls herself

                        together

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Now, what of Tristan?

I want to know exactly!

 

      Brangaene

Ah! do not ask!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Tell me freely, without fear!

 

      Brangaene

With courtly expressions

He evaded my words.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

But when you warned him clearly?

 

      Brangaene

When I called him

Here to you,

Where he was standing,

He said,

He served you faithfully,

The most honored lady;

Were he to leave the helm

At this very hour,

How could he safely steer the craft

To King Mark's land?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (hurt and bitter)

How could he safely steer the craft

To King Mark's land?

 

                        (harshly and violently)

 

To hand over to him the tribute

That he exacted from Ireland!

 

      Brangaene

At your own words,

When I repeated them to him,

His servant Kurwenal...

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I heard him;

Not a word escaped me.

If you sensed my disgrace,

Hear now what it meant for me.

 

As they mockingly sing

Behind my back,

Well might I make reply

About a boat

Which, small and frail,

Drifted along the Irish coast.

In it a sick

And ailing man

Lay miserably dyiing.

Isolde's crafts

Became known to him;

With healing ointments

And soothing lotions,

The wound which tormented him

She faithfully nursed.

He who with sly cunning

Called himself 'Tantris'

Isolde soon recognized

As Tristan --

Since in his sword, as he lay there,

She perceived a notch

Into which,

As she found with nimble fingers,

There fitted exactly a splinter,

Which once, in the head

Of the Irish knight,

Had been sent back to mock her.

Then a cry awoke

From the depths of my heart!

With the gleaming sword

I stood before him,

Ready to avenge on him,

The presumptuous one,

Lord Morold's death.

 

From his bed,

He looked up --

Not at the Sword,

Not at my hand --

He gazed into my eyes.

His wretchedness

Tormented me!

The sword -- I dropped it!

The wound that Morold smote,

I healed it so that he recovered

And returned home....

Do not accuse me

With such a look!

 

      Brangaene

How strange!  Where were my eyes?

The guest that once

I helped to nurse?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You have just hear his praises:

"Hey!  Our Lord Tristan!"

He was that pathetic man.

With a thousand oaths he swore to me

Eternal gratitude and loyalty.

Hear now how a hero

Keeps his oath!

He who, as Tantris,

I let go unidentified,

As Tristan

Bodly soon returned;

On a proud ship,

From a lofty deck,

He demanded the Irish successor

As a bride

For Corneall's feeble king,

For Mark, his uncle.

If Morold were alive,

Who would ever have dared

To bring such shame upon us?

For this vassal

Prince of the Cornish

To suit for the crown of Ireland!

Ah, I am lost!

Yes, I it was

Who, in secret, brought

This shame upon myself!

The avenging sword,

Instead of wielding it,

I impotently let it fall!

Now I am in the vassal's bondage!

 

      Brandgaene

When peace, reconciliation and amity,

Were sworn by all,

We hailed the happy day.

How could I have foreseeen

That it would cause you such grief?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Oh, blind eyes!

Credulous heart!

Despairing silence,

Feeble courage!

How differently

Tristan paraded

What I had kept concealed!

She who in silence

Gave him his life,

From theenemy's fury

Quietly hid him,

Who silently lent

Her sanctuary to save him,

Both her and all that he abandoned!

Boasting of victory,

Glorious and bold,

Loud and clear,

He pointed to me:

"There's a treasure,

My lord and uncle.

How about that for a wife?

This trim Irish girl

I'll bring back to you --

Knowing well

The way,

With a wave,

I was off to Ireland.

Isolde -- she's yours!

What a splendid bit of adventure!"

Curse you, vile creature,

A curse upon your head!

Vengeance! Death!

Death for us both!

 

      Brangaene (impetuously and tenderly embracing Isolde)

O sweet one, beloved!

Dearest!  Beautiful one!

Golden mistress!

Dear Isolde!

 

                        She gradually draws Isolde to the couch.

 

Listen to me!  Come!

Sit here!

What madness!

What vain anger!

How can you be so confused

As not to see or hear clearly?

What Lord Tristan

Ever owed you,

How better could he replay it

Than with the most splendid of crowns.

Thus could he loyally serve

His noble uncle.

To you he gave the world's

Most desirale prize --

His own inheritance,

Nobly and in good faith;

He relinquished it at your feet

To hail you as Queen!

 

                        Isolde turns aside.

 

And if he secured Mark

As a husband for you,

Why did you scorn the choice?

Can you not see its value?

Of noble blood

And gentle disposition,

Who can compare with the man

In power and glory?

He whom a bold hero

So faithfully serves,

Who might not share his fortune

And live beside him as his wife?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (gazing ahead wildly)

Unloved, always

Seeing near me

Than splendid man!

How could I bear the torment?

 

      Brangaene

What are you thinking of, wicked girl?

Unloved, always?

 

                        She moves to Isolde, embracing her

 

Where is the man

Who would not love you?

Who could see Isolde

And not be blissfully consumed

In Isolde?

But he who chose you

However cold he might be,

Or if a spell

Had turned him from you,

I would know

How to constrain him.

The power of love would constrain him.

 

                        Secretively and confidentially to Isolde

 

Do you not know our

Mother's craft?

Do you imagine that she,

Who considers everything,

Would have sent me away with you

Without means of help into foreign land?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (darkly)

My mother's advice

Is good counsel;

Gladly I recognise the worth

Of her craft.

Vengeance for the treachery!

Easement for the heart's distress!

Fetch me that chest over there!

 

      Brangaene

What it contains will bring you relief.

 

                        She fetches a small golden chest, opens it, and shows its contents.

 

In this your mother arranged

The powerful magic draughts.

For pain and wounds

Here is ointment;

For evil poisons

Antidote.

 

                        She draws out a flask.

 

The finest draught

I keep here.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You are wrong; I know better.

I placed a clear sign

Upon it.

 

                        She takes a flask and shows it.

 

This is the potion that I need!

 

      Brangaene (starting back, horrified)

The death potion!

 

                        Isolde gets up from the couch; and, with growing terror, she hears

                        the shouts of the crew.

 

      Crew (offstage)

Ho! Hey! Ha! Hey!

Lower mast!

Take in sail!

Ho! Hey! Ha! Hey!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

This means a swift voyage.

Wretched that I am!

And so near to land!

 

 

      William Crossmann

Why do you waste your time here?

 

      Crossmann

What?

 

      William Crossmann

With this love thing --

Why do you waste your time

So?

 

      Crossmann

Is it a waste of time then?

 

      William Crossmann

Your country is in danger!

There is murder and drug addiction!

Prostitution and child molestation!

Children in our schools are being killed

By other children!

And you waste your time in here,

Pandering to your passions,

Seeking pleasure with a phantom!

You must either be blind or daft of asleep --

I know not which!

The private man is such a decadent

Excess...!

 

      Crossmann

Privacy -- Publicity!

The carnival respects the clown;

The democracy adores the clown;

He who tells his tale with a smile!

Great men should be in govenment

Only during days of crisis and danger!

Great men should love when they can,

Paint when they will,

Design buildings,

Create music,

Write poetry and novels --

Pursue these pleasures when the can!

They should come to politics only

At times

The nation is endangered!

Only when foreigners are seeking

To kill her...!

 

      William Crossmann

Foreigners are seeking to kill her!

They seek to kill her from the inside...!

 

 

 

                        Kurwenal enters boisteriously through the curtains.

 

      Kurwenal (to the maids)

Up! Up, you ladies!

Lively and cheerful!

Make ready!

Come along, smartly now!

 

                        Speaking formally to Isolde

 

And to the Lady Isolde

I bring the word

Of Tristan the hero,

My lord:

From the mast the festive flag

Is fluttering merrily towards the land.

In King Mark's royal castle

The wind announces our approach.

Tristan therefore requests

Lady Isolde to hurry

And prepare for the land

That he may escort thee

To King Mark, his uncle.

 

                        Isolde at first shrinks back at the thought of the landing; then she composes

                        herself, speaking with dignity

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Convey to Lord Tristan

My greetings.

And tell him what I say:

If I am to greet King Mark

With Tristan at my side,

This shall not be done

With due propriety and custom

Unless I receive due restitution

In advance.

For the debt Lord Tristan owes me

Let him then seek from me

Such restitution

Before we land.

 

                        Kurwelal grimaces sourly.  Isolde continues, this time more forcefully.

 

I desire not to make ready

To accompany him to shore.

I shall not approach his uncle, King Mark,

At his side,

Unless he, first, seeks from me

Forgiveness and resolution.

According to propriety and custom,

For his unattoned guilt,

Tristan must approach me

And seek my grace

As his deliverance.

 

      Kurwenal

You shall be assured

I shall tell him that.

Wait to hear how

He receives these words.

 

                        Kurwenal returns to Tristan.  Isolde hurries to Brangaene and embraces the

                        maid.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Now, farewell Brangaene.

Bid the world farewell for me.

Bid my mother and father farewell.

 

      Brangaene

What is this?

What are you thinking of?

Do you intend to flee?

Where shall I go

To follow you...?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Did you not hear me?

I shall stay here

And wait for Tristan.

Faithfully carry out my orders.

That draught of reconciliation --

Prepare it quickly.

You know, the one

I showed you.

 

                        Isolde takes the flask from the chest.

 

      Brangaene

Which draught?

The one of love or

The one of death?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

This draught!

Pour it out into

The golden goblet.

Pour all of it in!

 

                        Brangaene, fearful, trembling, takes the flask.

 

      Brangaene

I do not believe this.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Remain you faithful to me?

 

      Brangaene

This draught is for whom?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

For he who betrayed me...!

 

      Brangaene

For Lord Tristan...?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

He shall drink to

Reconciliation...!

 

      Brangaene (fall at Isolde's feet)

Horror!  Have pity on me, poor wretch...!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You should pity me,

Faithless maid!

Do you not know

My mother's craft?

Do you imagine that she,

Who considers everything,

Would have sent me away

With you,

And without help,

Into a foreign country?

For pain and wounds

She gave me ointments;

For evil potions

She gave antidotes;

For sharpest pain,

For the most extreme anguish,

She gave the death potion.

Death now says thank you

To me...!

 

      Brangaene (nearly fainting)

O deepest pain!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Do you obey me now?

 

      Brangaene

O highest wrong!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Shall you obey me?

 

      Brangaene

That drink?

 

                        Kurwenal enters.

 

      Kurwenal

Lord Tristan!

 

                        Brangaene rises, horrified, confused.  Isolde seeks to compose herself.

 

      Leslie Rhodes (to Kurwenal)

Let Lord Tristan approach!

 

      William Crossmann

She does not need you!

This is all a grimy fantasy you have,

Some fantasy you cling to!

It is not real!

It is a dream!

Something is rotten in Denmark --

And you sit here in this stuffy asylum,

Living with the rich and the decadent,

Thereby telling them you support them...!

 

      Crossmann

I do not understand you!

All this bitterness you have...!

 

      William Crossmann

You create some fantasy here!

This is not how the world works!

She does not love you!

She has never loved youj!

Love does not govern the world!

Power does!

Power and wealth!

Love is only a concoction of poets --

And of women, seeking to keep men down!

Love is the opiate of the masses!

Nothing more, nothing less!

Love is the first chain,

The first rock on the back of Sisyphus!

A phantom!

You worship a phantom!

A puff of air --

Breathe, and it is gone...!

 

      Crossmann

Don't you understand --

This is the refinement of nature!

Art is the refinement of Nature!

Art is not a photograph of Nature!

Nature is Chaos amid Order!

Art is the refinement of that Chaos...!

 

      William Crossmann

Art!  Culture!

When I hear that word,

I want to draw my pistol...!

 

                        Tristan, Isolde, Brangaene, Kurwenal, Sailors.

 

                        Kurwenal withdraws.   Brangaene, almost fainting, moves upstage.  Isolde,

                        summoning up her strength, moves slowly and with great dignity toward

                        the couch; and, leaning against the wall near the entrance, she fixes her

                        eyes on the entrance, waiting for Tristan to appear.  Tristan enters and

                        waits respectfully at the entrance.  Isolde, terribly agitated, stands

                        facing him.  Long silence.

 

      Crossmann

And, so, my lady,

What do you wish?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Surely you know

What I demanded

When the fear

Of fulfilling it

Kept you from my sight?

 

      Crossmann

Reverence for yourself,

My lady,

Kept me at a distance.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You showed me

Little enough respect.

With blatant mockery

You refused

To obey my commands.

 

      Crossmann

Obedience to duty

Alone constrained me.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

I have little to thank

Your masters for.

Does service of the king

Require ill manners

Toward his bride?

 

      Crossmann

Manners teach,

Where I come from,

That on a courtship voyage

The suitor

Should stay distinctively

From the bride.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

For what reason?

 

      Crossmann

Custom says so.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Since you are so mannerly,

My lord Tristan,

Let me remind you

Of manners more.

To be reconciled with an enemy

He must praise you as a friend.

 

      Crossmann

Which enemy?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Ask your own fear!

 

      Crossmann

It was your fear more than my own

If I remember correctly!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

That is not the correct line.

 

      Crossmann

And to say it was fear allied

With marital honor

Means to me it was true.

 

      Martin Scorcese (offstage)

Is he mad?

He creates his own text...!

 

      William Crossmann (to Scorcese)

He is himself, at last.

The actor falls away;

The heritage comes out.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Destiny is mean, at times.

But the audience expects to see us,

Not as we are,

But as they would like us to be.

 

      Crossmann

Damn them!

What have the done for you and I?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

They applaud to make us round with....

 

      Crossmann

Fresh anemone...?

I wish to kiss you here!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

It is not in the script.

For I am Isolde now...!

 

      Crossmann

It is someone's dream!

Look!  The audience wears masks!

They are figures made of cardboard...!

They are cut-out forms humming flints from Fidelio...!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

This is my dream, then!

Isolde is my dream!

I have lived more than twenty years now

Being the good wife

And mother to my children,

Leaving behind my one moment

Of pure joy

Which I experienced with you!

I have suffered enough!

Do you think you are the only one who suffered!

 

      Crossmann

I did not suggest....

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Can we bring it back now?

I have children in this crowd,

Watching me as I dance and sing.

A husband, too, who moves

Like a damaged lord,

Understanding that I wed my vows to him

But never did I wed my heart --

Which I had given thee...!

Do not wound me now, again,

On this stage.

I am wounded once;

And murdered once.

Though you be my killer

I would, again, have you kill me;

I would not choose to live again

A life in which, with your arrow,

You'd not strike.

 

      Crossmann

It is blackest night.

We are again alone.

Nothing's changed.

We wipe a quarter years

Away with a smile...!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Put on thy mask again.

You speak the words of Faust

To me.

And we are not below, now.

We have risen a tenth.

And rise again we must, my love.

We have a road of woes to walk.

Isolde and Tristan have woes of their own....

 

      Isolde

As your own fear!

A debt of blood

Still exists between us.

 

      Tristan

Which is atoned.

 

      Isolde

Not between us!

     

      Tristan

In an open field,

Before all the world,

The peace was sworn.

 

      Isolde

It was not there

Where I hid Tantris;

Where I held Tristan

Under protection of my will.

 

There he stood, glorious,

Bold and strong;

But he swore a vow

Which I did not swear --

For I had learned

To keep silent.

 

When in my quiet chamber

He lay ill,

And I stood quietly

Before him with sword:

My lips were silent.

The hero lay beneath my hand;

But what once with my hands

And lips I praised,

I swore to keep silent:

Now I must discharge my oath!

 

      Tristan

What oath did you take, my lady?

 

      Isolde

I swore vengeance for Morold!

 

      Tristan

And that troubles you now?

 

      Isolde

Do not dare to mock me!

He who was betrothed to me,

That bold Irish hero.

I who blessed his weapons;

It was for me

That he went into battle.

When he fell

My honor fell too.

With heavy heart

I took the oath

Swearing that if another

Did not atone for his murder,

Then I, the maid.

Would venture to do so.

 

                        Crossmann sees the pale figure of Don Rhodes pass over the stage

                        like a cloud.  Moving unseen by Leslie Rhodes.  Looking down

                        at Crossmann with haunted features.

 

Sickly and feeble,

In my power:

Why did I not strike you down then?

How I nursed your wounds instead,

Restoring your strength,

He who struck down my Morold!

But now you, yourself,

Speak of grandeur and grace.

And since all men have bound themselves

To him,

Who now must slay Tristan,

Thereby, resolving my oath?

 

      Tristan (pale and gloomy)

If Morold meant in such a way

So much to you

Then take the sword again

And weild it sure and strong

So it not recoil out of your hand --

Your oath you'll fulfill....

 

                        Tristan proffers his sword.

 

      Isolde

What would King Mark say

Were I to slay

His finest vassal,

Who won for him

Crown and country --

Most faithful nephew of his blood.

Do you value so lightly

What he owes you,

Bringing the Irish maid

To him as his bride --

Thinking naught for yourself?

Would he not reproach me greatly

If I slew the suitor

Who so faithfully delivered

Into his hands the treaty's bond?

Put up your sword!

When I weilded it before,

With vengeance shrieking

In my breast,

I met your measuring gaze

Which stole my own,

Humbling my rage into curious

Sentiment of...polity.

No, if I would suit King Mark

As a wife --

This sword, let it sink.

Let us now drink reconciliation!

 

                        She makes a sign to Brangaene.  Brangaene shuddeers, wavers, hesitates.

                        Isolde urges her on with more emphatic gestures.  Brangaene turns to

                        prepare the draught.

 

      Crew (heard offstage)

Ho! hey! hectar! hey!

Upper mast,

Take in sail!

Ho! hey! hectar! hey...!

 

      Tristan (responding to the shout of the Crew)

Where are we?

 

      Isolde

Hard by our goal!

Tristan, do I win reconcilation!

What do you have to say to me?

 

      Tristan

The mistress of Silence

Bids me say nothing.

If I grasp what she concealed,

I shall surely conceal

What she does not grasp.

 

      Isolde

I can grasp your silence!

You respect me not!

Do you refuse to make atonement?

 

                        New cries of sailors offstage.

 

                        Isolde gestures emphatically; Brangaene hand the filled goblet to her mistress.

     

                        Isolde moves to Tristan with the goblet, gazing coldly into his eyes.

 

      Isolde

Can you hear their cries?

We move closer and closer

To land.

We shall too soon

Both be standing before him....

 

Before King Mark

When you escort me

Would it not be good

For you to speak to him thus:

 

"My lord and uncle,

There was a time

Not too long ago

A more gentle wife

You never would have won.

 

The man who once

Was wedded to her

I did slay;

His severed head

I sent home to thee.

And the wounds which his lever

Inflicted on me

She tenderly healed.

 

My life, then,

Lay in her hands.

The gentle maid

Gave me back my life --

Even as I gave to her,

In her own land,

Shame and disgrace.

 

Gracious thanks are given to me,

An antidote to this moral poison,

Again by her sweet draught

Of reconciliation,

Which contains absolution

For my simmering guilt..."

 

      Crew (offstage)

Haul away!

Anchors away...!

 

      Tristan (respnding to the call)

Anchor away!

Into the tide!

Sails and mast turned tot he wind!

 

                        He seizes the goblet from Isholde.

 

Surely I know

Ireland's queen,

The wonderous power

Of your knowledge and craft.

I used the ointment she speaks of

For health.

I shall take the goblet

That I be fully cleansed.

And witness, too,

This oath of reconciliation

Which I take with you,

In gratitude to you.

Tristan's honor,

More utter loyalty!

Tristan's misery,

Keenest defiance!

Heart's deceit,

Wishful dreaming!

The only consolation

In eternal mourning.

Beneficient draught of forgetfulness,

I drain you unwaveringly!

 

                        Tristan drinks from the goblet.

 

      Isolde

Treachery here too?

Half is mine!

 

                        Isolde snatches the goblet.

 

Traitor!  I drink to you...!

 

                        She drinks. Then she throws the goblet aside. In the grip of terror, they gaze

                                                 steadily into on another's eyes in utmost agitation, but unmoving. In their eyes

                                                deadly defiance gives way to the glow of love. They are seized with trembling.

                                                They clutch convulsively at their hearts and raise their hands to their heads.

                                                Then their eyes seek out one another, are cast down again in confusion, and

                                    meet again with growing desire.

 

      Isolde (her voice trembling)

Tristan!

 

      Tristan (overcome)

Isolde!

 

      Isolde (sinking into his arms)

Faithless darling!

 

      Tristan (ardently embracing her)

Blessed lady!

 

                        They remain in silent embrace.

 

                        In the distance, trumpets are heard.

 

      Men's Voice

Hail! Hail King Mark!

 

                        Brangaene looks away in confusion and terror, having leaned over the rail.

                        She now turns to see the couple clasped in a loving embrace; she moves

                        downstage, wringing her hands in despair.

 

      Brangaene

Ah! Alas!

Inescapable

Eternal misery

Instead of an early death!

The deceiving effects

Of foolish loyalty

Now bear their miserable fruit.

 

                        Tristan and Isolde cease their embrace.

 

      Tristan (bewildered)

What was my dream of Tristan's honor?

 

      Isolde

What was my dream of Isolde's disgrace?

 

      Tristan

You lost to me?

 

      Isolde

You rejecting me?

 

      Tristan

Deceitful magic's sly cunning.

 

      Isolde

Foolish anger's vain threats.

 

      Tristan

Isolde!

 

      Isolde

Tristan!

 

      Crossmann

Leslie!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Michael!

 

Michael Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes embrace, kissing deeply.  Her mouth for him is a ripe plum.  She greets his kiss with an open mouth and a deep sigh.  He pulls her small body against his.  His kiss goes deeper into her.  It is like a goblet of wine to Leslie, taken in a large gulp, touching her in her knees,her hands, a kind of numb ecstacy.  The kiss goes deeper.  His tongue touches her tongue.  The mingling of flames.  He grabs her small back and presses her against his body with force, seeking to make her one with him, one body, one being.  She feels drunk.  He kisses her again.  This is not in the script.  It lights her on fire.  She remembers how it once was -- her being floating, drunk, fearful, exposed.  Deeper he goes, possessing her.  She has a line; a line to remember.  What is it?  Who else is watching this?  Can everyone see her?

 

Crossmann pulls back from his embrace, touching her cheek with his right hand, kissing her forehead tenderly.

     

      Tristan

Sweetest girl!

 

      Isolde

Dearest man!

 

      Tristan and Isolde Together

How our hearts are borne aloft!

How all our senses

Pulsate with bliss!

Longing devotion's

Burgeoning blossoms,

Yearning love's

Blessed glow!

My breast bursting

With exultant delight!

Isolde!  Tristan!

Broken free of the world,

Won for me!

You, my only awareness,

Utmost rapture of love!

 

                        The curtains are pulled apart; the whole ship is crowded with knights and

                         sailors waving joyfully over the side towards the shore which can be seen

                        close by, capped by a high, rocky fortress. Tristan and Isolde remain lost in

                        gazing at one another, unaware of what is happening aroud them.

 

      All the Men

Hail! Hail! Hail!

Hail to King Mark!

Long live the King!

 

      Kurwenal (entering briskly)

Hail, Tristan,

Fortunate hero!

With a splendid retinue

There, on the boat:

Lord Mark is approaching.

Ahh, how the hourney delights him,

Winning a bride.

 

      Tristan (bewildered, looking up)

Who is approaching?

 

      Kurwenal

The King!

 

      Tristan

Which King?

 

                        Kurwenal points over the side.

 

      All the Men (waving their caps)

Hail! Hail! King Mark!

 

                        Tristan stares blankly at the shore.

 

      Isolde (confused)

What is it, Brnagaene?

What are they calling out?

 

      Brangaene

Isolde, my lady,

Compose yourself,

If only for today!

 

      Isolde

Where am I?  Am I alive?

Ahh!  What was that draught?

 

      Brangaene (in despair)

The love potion.

 

      Isolde (stares at Tristan, horrified)

Tristan!

 

      Tristan

Isolde!

 

      Isolde

Must I live on?

 

                        She falls on his breast, unconscious.

 

      Brangaene (to the ladies)

Help our mistress!

 

      Tristan

Oh, spiteful bliss!

Oh, happiness in thrall to deceit!

 

      All the Men (breaking into general rejoicing)

Cornwall!  Hail!

 

                        Trumpets from the shore.

                        People have climbed aborad; others have put out the gangplank; the general

                        activity indicates the immediately-awaited arrival of the King's train, as the

                        curtain falls.

 

Crossmann takes Leslie Rhodes' hand and moves to the wing.

      "Come with me," an older woman says to Leslie Rhodes, separating them.  "New costume!  New costume...!"

      "Leslie...!" Crossmann cries.

      She looks back at him, saying nothing, her eyes swollen, her lips full.  Her eyes flashing at him.  Burning into him again.

      She follows the older woman out of sight.

     

The ship set is being moved; stage hands begin to move the garden set into place.

      Scorcese moves toward Crossmann.

      "Get out of that costume, man!" Scorcese shouts.  "What are you thinking!  marge, he needs a costume change...!"

      "We made the deal!" Truman says to Crossmann.

      "What?"

      Marge is pulling off his costume.

      "We bought you a room in the Dakota!" Truman says.  "The same apartment John and Yoko had...!"

      "I didn't know it was for sale," Crossmann says.

      "Well, you are a big name in town now, Michael," Truman says.

      Faramarz is standing beside Truman.

      "They made us quite an offer," Faramarz says.  "We couldn't say no."

      He smiles like a kind of proud Arabic godfather.

      "Oh, I love this piece," Truman says to Crossmann, studying the costume.  He nods his approval to Marge.

      Crossmann is now dressed in a white blouse with floral semicircles on the arms.

      "It's a puffy shirt," Faramarz says, beginning to laugh.

      Truman is looking at Crossmann's legs, admiring his masculine form.

      "What did you say?" Truman asks.

      "A puffy shirt," Faramarz repeats.  "Remember, on 'Seinfeld'...."

      Truman is distracted looking at Crossmann's codpiece.

      "I remember," Crossmann says.  "With the 'low-talker'...."

      Faramarz imitates Seinfeld: "She's a low-talker...!"

      Crossmann pulls on his black pants.

      Truman is like a a fourteen-year-old boy catching a glimpse of a girl's panties as her knees part and her dark blue dress pulls up above her knees.

      "Yes, lovely Crossmann!" Truman says.  "Lovely Costume, I mean..!"

      Crossmann looks at Truman with disappointment.

      "Well, I got you that apartment for you, didn't I?" Truman says.  "Don't give me that look!  You look just like my dad when he told me I should be playing football instead of playing with dolls...!"

      "Places!" Scorcese cries.  "Everyone: take your place...!"

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

                                    A garden with tall trees in front of Isolde's apartments with steps

                                    leading up to it at one side.  A clear, pleasant summer's night.  At the

                                    open door is placed a burning torch.  Sounds of hunting.  Brangaene, on

                                    the steps to the apartments, looks out after the hunting party as their

                                    sounds fade away into the distance.  Isolde comes out of the apartments

                        in wild agitation and comes up to her.

 

      Isolde

Can yhou still hear them?

They are out of my hearing already.

 

      Brangaene (listening)

They are still near;

I can hear them clearly.

 

      Isolde (listening)

Anxious fears

Confuse our ear.

You are misled

By the grove's whisperings,

Laughingly rustling in the wind.

 

      Brangaene

You are misled by your

Impetuous desires

Into hearing what you imagine.

 

                        She listens.

 

I can hear the horns calling.

 

      Tristan (listening again)

The calling of horns

Does not sound so sweet,

It is the stream's gently

Murmuring waves

Flowing along so gaily.

How could I hear that

If horns were still calling?

In the still of the night

It is just the stream

That llaughs with me.

He who is waiting for me

In the silence of the night,

As if horns still sounded nearby,

Do you want to keep him

For me?

 

      Brangaene

He who is waiting for you --

Oh, listen to my warning --

Spies lie in wait for him at night!

Because you are so blinded

Do you imagine that the sight

Of the world has dimmed

For you too?

When, on board ship,

From Tristan's trembling hand

The pallid bride,

Scarcely conscious,

Was received by King Mark.

When everybody bemusedly watched

Her wavering there,

The kingly King,

With gentle concern,

Loudly bewailed the trials

Of the voyage which

You had undergone.

But there was one,

As I clearly perceived,

Who looked only into Tristan's eyes.

With a threatening gaze

Full of malevolent guile

He sought to find in

Tristan's gaze

Anything to serve his purpose.

Spitefully listening

I have often found him.

Of him who secretly sets snares for you,

Of Melot, be warned!

Melot is his name!

 

      Isolde

Do you mean Lord Melot?

Oh, how mistaken you are!

Is he not Tristan's dearest friend?

If my beloved cannot be with me,

Then he is only in Melot's

Company.

 

      Brangaene

What makes me suspect him

Makes him dear to you!

From Tristan to Mark

Is Melot's path:

There he sows the malignant seeds.

Those who decided today

On this night hunt,

So promptly and quickly planned

Have a nobler quarry

Than you imagine

As the target of their

Huntsmen's cunning.

 

            William Crossmann (offstage, to

                        Michael Crossmann)

You are wasting your time

Engaging in private affairs!

There is a much larger calling;

That of power

And the quest for the grail.

 

            Crossmann

Only when a crisis comes

Will I be swayed to bend my back,

To take up the cross,

For the national fortune!

The political life is the lowest of lives

For the man of ideas,

For the man of private affairs!

Lawrence understood that the American soul

Seeks most his isolation!

 

      Isolde

For his friend's sake,

Out of sympathy,

Melot, his friend,

Managed his ruse.

Do you now scold

This faithful friend?

Better than you

Does he care for me;

To him he opens up

What you do bar to me.

Oh, spare me the distress

Of further delay!

The signal, Brangaene!

Oh, give the signal!

Extinguish the light's

Last glimmer!

That it may fall completely,

Give Night its signal!

Already its silence has flowed

Through the groves and the house;

Already it fills the heart

With ecstatic terror!

Oh, extinguish the light now,

Extinguish its dread rays!

Let my beloved come!

 

      Brangaene

Oh, leave the warning flame,

Let it show you the danger!

Ah, alas!

How wretched I am!

The hapless potion!

That, unfaithful just once,

I betrayed my mistress's will!

Had I obeyed, deaf and blind,

Your work would have been

Death!

But your disgrace,

Your ignominious distress

Are my work;

And I, the guilty one,

Must know it!

 

      William Crossmann (offstage, to

            Michael Crosssmann)

The exit here is in the basement!

Take the elevator down

Through utter humiliation!

That is the exit

That, ultimately, you'll desire!

That is the only way out of here!

 

      Isolde

Your work!

Oh, foolish maid!

Do you not know the Love Spirit,

Not know her magic's power?

The Queen of boldest courage,

Regent of the world's course?

Love and Death

Are subject to her;

She weaves them

Out of bliss and sorrow,

Transmuting envy into love.

Death's work,

Upon which I audaciously embarked --

The Love Spirit

Wrested it from my power.

She took the girl

Destined for death

Under her sway

And took her work

Into her own hands.

However she performed it,

However she completes it,

Wherever she may choose for me,

Wherever she may lead me,

I became subject to her.

Now let me display my obedience!

 

      Crossmann (offstage, to William                    Crossmann)

There is no escape fromthis.

 

      William Crossmann (offstage, to

            Michael Crossman)

Madness or death.

Or passage through the canine land;

Passaage through the Death Land,

Ever-ruled by fumulating ghosts

And other credos.

 

                        William Crossmann hands his

                        brother a book written by Carlos

                        Castaneda.  On the back of the

                        book is a photo of Casteneda --

                        he looks like the Magician.

 

      Brangaene

And if Love's

Spiteful draught

Must extinguish the light of reason --

If you cannot see

When I warn you,

Then now, this once,

Hear my plea!

The gleaming signal of danger --

Oh, not now!

Do not extinguish

The torch now!

 

                        Jim hands Michael Crossmann The

                        Autobiography of Malcolm X.

 

      Crossmann (offstage, to Jim)

Jim! Did you give that man --

The assassin who looked like Lou Rawls --

Did you give him the secret knock?

Why did you betray me...!

 

                        Jim runs away from Crossmann.

 

      William Crossmann (offstage, to

            Michael Crossmann)

Necessity!  Simple necessity...!

I will have to send you in to the Nagual.

It is a kind of hell, it is true!

But it is nothing to be afraid of...!

 

      Isolde

She kindled the glow

In my breast;

She makes

My heart burn;

Like Day, she laughs

In my soul.

 

      William Crossmann (offstage, to                    Michael Crossmann)

She is a dyke, you know.

Offa knows.

Women all are dykes, at some point...!

 

      Isolde

The will of the Love Spirit is!

Let it be Night,

That brightly she may shine forth!

 

                                                            Pip, the black child, walks next to

                                                            Crossmann carrying a sign on the

                                                            end of a stick.  On one side is

                                                            printed 'Evening Star'; on the other

                                                            side is printed 'Morning Star'.

 

                        Isolde hurries to the torch.

 

Where she shuns your light!

 

                        Isolde takes the torch from the doorway.

 

To the tower with you!

Keep careful watch!

This light, were it the light

Of my life--

Laughing,

I do not hesitate

To extinguish it!

 

                        She throws the torch to the ground where the light

                        gradually dies out.

 

                        Brangaene turns away in dismay to climb an outside stairway

                        to the tower, where she gradually disappears from sight.

 

                        Isolde listens and looks, timidly at first, along an avenue of trees.

                        Moved by a growing desire, she approaches the trees and looks more

                        carefully.  She waves with a kerchief, a little at first, then, with

                        passionate impatience, more and more quickly.

 

                        A gesture of sudden delight proclaims that she has noticed her

                        beloved in the distance.  She stands on tip-toe, and, in order to see

                        further, hurries back to the steps, from the top of which she waves

                        to the approaching figure.

 

                        Tristan rushes in.

 

      Tristan

Isolde!  Beloved!

 

      Isolde (leaping toward him)

Tristan!  Beloved!

 

      Crossmann

I have missed you for so long!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

To miss a kiss might madly erase!

 

Crossmann kisses Leslie Rhodes deeply on the mouth.  A second; a third time.  Sending her reeling.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Three kisses a missing hardly seems to betray!

 

      Crossmann

Careful how you use that word!

 

Crossmann kisses her again.  His right hand opens her blouse deftly.  He takes her left  breast in his hand.  He gently presses her nipple between his index finger and thumb.

 

      Tristan

With me once again?

     

      Isolde

Dare I hold you?

 

      Tristan

Can I believe it?

 

      Isolde

Finally!  Finally!

 

      Tristan

Here on my chest!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

And you holding my breast!

 

Crossmann pushes his lower body against Leslie.

 

      Crossmann

Nothing could be finer...!

 

      Isolde

Is it really you I feel?

 

      Crossmann

A bull in a Chinese closet!

 

      Isolde

These are your eyes!

 

      Tristan

This is your mouth!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Don't encourage my vice!

Here is my hand!

 

Crossmann kisses her breast and nipple.

 

      Crossmann

Here is your heart!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes!  At least it is very near

My heart!

 

      Isolde

Is it I?  Is it you?

You, clasped to my bosom?

 

      Tristan

Is it I?  Is it you?

No illusion?

 

      Isolde and Tristan (together)

Not a dream?

Oh, heart's rapture,

O sweet, most sublime,

Boldest, Loveliest,

Most blessed joy!

 

      Tristan

Without equal!

 

Crossmann is kissing Leslie Rhodes, as he removes her blouse.  They are alone in the woods.  The moon is looking, down, shining hypnotic light down on the pond behind them.  Leslie's breasts look magestic in the moonlight.  Crossmann puts his hand inside her skirt, touching her in softest, warmest spot.

 

      Isolde

Overflowing!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Overflowing!

 

Crossmann slips Leslie's skirt over her hips, laying her down on the soft grass.  He undresses quickly; then he lies on top of  her, entering her body without resistance, her hand guiding him easily in to place.

 

      Tristan

Replete with bliss!

 

      Isolde

Eternal!

 

      Tristan

Eternal!

 

      Isolde

Sensation never dreamed of!

Never yet known!

 

      Tristan

Boundlessly

Exalted and sublime!

     

      Leslie Rhodes

Oh, yes!  That's nice!

 

      Tristan

Blissfull delight!

 

      Isolde

Heaven high soaring

Beyond the world!

My Tristan, mine!

Mine and yours!

Ever more, ever one!

 

      Tristan

Heaven high soaring

Beyond the world!

My Isolde, mine!

Mine and yours!

Ever more, ever one!

 

      Isolde

For how long away!

Away for so long!

 

      Tristan

How far yet, in such a way,

Near!

Thus near yet how far!

 

      Crossmann

Overflowing!

           

      Leslie Rhodes

Not yet!

 

      Crossmann

Not I -- but you!

A flower flowing like a sea --

Of hottest butter --

Of fragrant liquid gold...!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Oh, don't stop!

Please don't stop!

 

      Crossmann

I'll never stop!

I never wished to stop!

 

      Isolde

O enemy of friends,

Evil distance!

Drawn out Time's

Lingering expanse!

 

      Tristan

Oh, distance and nearness,

Sternly parted!

Sweet nearness!

Desolate distance!

 

      Isolde

You in darkness,

I in light!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yes, faster!

Oh, yes!  There!

It is sweet!

Sweeter now, a wait so long!

 

      Crossmann

Harder to bear,

A door closed for so long!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

But now thrown open

So wide for your love!

 

      Crossmann

Open like a tide!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Swallowing your fish!

 

      Crossmann

Tide's time a bright mitre!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Indeed!

A heavy mitre too

When swung at the hip!

 

      Crossmann

Swing!  Swing!

The bell tower bristles!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Wishful thinking proceeds

Fitful blinking.

Yes!  A few more!

A few more prayers

With your blighter!

 

      Crossmann

Digging for gold!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

And discovering the vein!

 

      Crossmann

Pulverizing grape

Into wine!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

And doing it with gusto!

 

Fine!  Fine!

The soil is refined now!

The planter's prepared now!

Bury a fragment of Time now...!

 

Leslie Rhodes lets out a series of deep moans, gutteral ecstacies, and then wraps her legs ferociously around the waist of Michael  Crossmann.  Squeezing him.  Nearly losing consciousness.....

 

Yes!  Yes!  Yes!   Yes!

I am yours!

Do it now!

Do it hard!

I love you dear!

I love you for ever!

I am sorry for your pain!

I am sorry you have bled!

Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!

Unencumbered by some moral conscience

Which kept me round my house deprived!

Your fantasy comes deep unbridled;

Your fantasy comes deep and rude...!

 

            Crossmann

Overflowing!

 

            Leslie Rhodes

Yes!  Overflow!

I am overflowed!

Overflow too!

Let the whole world

Swim

In our milk

And our mannerheim!

 

            Crossmann

Overflowing!

 

            Leslie Rhodes

Like a bull!

 

            Crossmann

Overflowing!

 

            Leslie Rhodes

Make me full!

 

            Crossmann

Overflowing!

 

            Leslie Rhodes

Make me scream!

 

            Crossmann

Overflowing!

 

            Leslie Rhodes

Plums and cream!

 

      Tistan (breathless)

The light!  The light!

Beautiful light!

Oh, this light!

How long before it

Is extinguished!

The sun sets;

Day runs its course!

But its envy

Stifles it not!

Lighting its dread signal,

It places itself

In the loved one's door

The open door....

The love one's opening door...!

Then it is done...!

 

Michael Crossmann lets out a long, ecstatic series of  nearly-pained exclamations.  He and Leslie  are moving as a unit: one body, joined at the hip.  Siamese constellation.  Grinding hard: millstones at play.  The hard member extinguished.  Soft sensation swallowing the fish.  Running down -- the merry-go-round.  Running down.  Running downhill.  The ecstacy of a deep, heavy stone unwilling  to think.  Lying  and waiting.  Heavy.  Breathing.  As heavy as lead.

 

      Isolde

But the loved one's hand

Extinguished the light;

What the maid did not risk

I did not fear!

Under the power and protection

Of the Love Spirit

I bathe with you now

In defiance of the Day!

 

      Tristan

Day!  For Day,

For spiteful Day,

Most bitter foe,

He of hate and complaint.

Just as you extinguished

The Light,

Would that I could extinguish

The light of insolent day --

To avenge these pangs of love!

Is there any distress;

Is there anguish

Which does not revive it

With its rays?

Even in Night's

Sound glory,

Who my beloved harbors

In her house,

As the threatening beams

Of reality draw near.

 

      Crossmann

Sweet dear!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Sated lover!

 

      Crossmann

Sated not!  But mated surely!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Better late, then, than not at all?

 

      Crossmann

Surely sweeter now

Than all the sweets up to this day.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Many sweets, then, have

Crossed your lips?

Many chocolates and fudges

And sugar-tits

You've tasted...?

 

      Crossmann

No memory of earlier candy

Remains.

Just your holy divinity --

Surely dessert which the gods

Have concocted.

 

Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes lie in the grass in one another's arms: sleeping in the moonlight.

 

      Isolde

If your beloved keeps the

Thing you love in her own house,

So did my love once

Defiantly foster it

In his heart,

Bright and devious.

Tristan, he that betrayed me!

What is not Day

Proved in him false

When he came to Irish country

As a suitor

To court myself for King Mark,

To dedicate his loyalty to

None other suitor than Death.

 

      Tristan

Day! Day!

Which shimmered round about you,

To there where she seemed

Like the sun

In highest honor's

Radiant glow --

Isolde withddrew from me!

That which so delighted

My eye

Made my heart sink

To the depths of the earth:

In the bright light of Day

How could Isolde -- a queen --

Be mine?

 

      Isolde

What -- she not yours,

She who chose you?

What did evil Day

Tell you

That you betrayed

Your Dearest --

She who was destined

To be yours...?

 

      Tristan

Into the grip of madness

I could not but yield my heart

To that which shimmered

Round about you

In majestic splendor --

The glitter of honor

And the power of renown.

Day's bright orb

Of worldly honor,

Shining upon me

With the brightest

Radiant glow,

Penetrated

My head

With its beams

Of vain bliss;

and reached the

Plagued recesses

Of my heart.

What lay there

Darkly concealed in the chaste night;

What I dimly perceived,

Not knowing, not imagining?

A form, which my eyes

Could not believe they saw;

Caught in the Day light,

Gleaming there before me.

Before the whole throng

I praised in clearest tone

What seemed to me

So glorious and sublime.

Before all the people

I extolled aloud

The loveliest

Royal bride on earth.

I bade defiance to

The envy which

Day awakened in me,

To the zeal which

Threateened my happiness,

to the jealousy which began to make

Honor and fame to me a burden;

And I firmly resolved

To uphold honor and glory,

To go the the Irish country.

 

      Isolde

Oh, vain thrall of Day!

Deceived by that which

Deceived you:

How I, loving you,

Suffered on your account;

Caught in Day's false

Moral glitter,

Into the snare

Of its cunning,

Into the depths of my heart,

Where burning love

Encompassed him --

Oh, I hated him bitterly.

What piercing pain --

Into the recesses of my heart!

How hard he whom I secretly

Harbored there

Must have thought me

When, into the light of Day,

My faithfully cherished one

Vanished to loving eyes

And stood before me

Only as a foe!

From the light of day

Which made you appear to me

A traitor

I wished to flee

Into Night,

To take you with me,

Where might heart would bid me

End all deception,

Where the vain premonition

Of treachery might dispelled be.

There to pledge to you

Eternal love,

To consecrate to you our Death,

In the company of myself.

 

      Tristan

 

When I recognized

Sweet death

Resting in your hand --

Then a bold and clear

Presentiment

Showed me what

Expiation demanded.

There dawned gently

In my heart

The lofty power of Night;

My Day was then accomplished.

 

      Isolde

Alas, you were confused

By the deceiving potion;

Thus, once again,

Night eluded you.

As you faced only death,

It restored you, instead,

Into Day.

 

Crossmann awakes for a moment, swatting at two noisy mosquitos that are hovering, buzzing, above him in the garden.  He admires her long brown hair spiralling all about him.  Then he closes his eyes again; he sleeps the sleep of a king.

 

      Tristan

Hail to that potion!

Hail to the draught!

Hail to it magic,

Sublime power!

Through Death's portal,

Wide and open,

It flowed toward me,

Opening up

The wondrous realm

Of Night,

Where I had only been

In dreams.

From the image in my heart's

Sheltering cell,

It repelled Day's

Deceiving beams,

So that in darkness

My eyes might serve

To see it clearly.

 

      Isolde

Yet banished Day

Avenged itself;

With your sins

It took counsel;

What darkling Night

Showed you

You were forced to surrender

To the regal powr

Of the Day-Star,

To live alone,

Gleaming there

In solitary splendor.

How could I bear that?

How can I endure it now?

 

      Tristan

Oh, now we were

Dedicated to Night!

Spiteful Day,

With ready envy,

Could part us with its tricks,

But no longer mislead us

With guile.

Its vain glory,

Its flaunting display,

Are mocked by those

To whom Night

Has granted sight.

The fleeting flashes

Of its flickering light

No longer dazzle us.

Before him who has seen

With love Death's night,

Before him to whom she confided

Her dark secret,

Are scatter the lies,

The renown and honor of Day,

Power and advantage

Shining and glorious,

As paltry as dust

Caught in the sunbeam!

Amid the vain fancy of Day

He still harbors one desire --

The yearning for sacred Night,

Where, all-eternal, true alone,

Love's bliss smiles on him!

 

      Tristan and Isolde

Descend,

O Night of love,

Grant Oblivion

That I may live;

Take me up

Into your bosom;

Release me from

This worlld!

 

      Tristan

Extinguished now

The last glimmers

 

      Isolde

What we thought;

What we imagined;

 

      Tristan

All thought;

 

      Isolde

All remembering;

 

      Tristan and Isolde

The glorious presentiment

Of sacred twilight

Extinguishes imagined terrors,

World-redeeming.

 

      Isolde

The sun concealed

Itself in our bosom;

The stars of bliss

Gleam, laughing,

 

      Tristan

Softly entwined

In your magic,

Sweetly dissolved

Before your eyes.

 

      Isolde

Heart on heart;

Mouth on mouth;

 

      Tristan

The single bond

Of a single breath;

 

      Tristan and Isolde

My glannce is deflected,

Dazzled with bliss,

The world pales

With its blainding radiance:

 

      Isolde

Lit by Day's

Guileful deception,

 

      Tristan

Standing firm against

Deceitful delusion,

 

      Tristan and Isolde

Then am I,

Myself, the world;

Floating in sublime bliss,

Life of love most sacred,

The sweetly conscious

Undeluded wish

Never again to waken.

 

      The Voice of Brangaene (from the tower)

You upon whom

Love's dream smiles,

Take heed of the voice

Of the one keeping solitary

Watch at night,

Foreseeing evil for the sleepers,

Anxiously urging you to

Waken.

Beware!

Beware!

Night soon melts away!

 

      Leslie Rhodes (softly)

Listen, beloved!

 

      Crossmann (softly)

Let me die!

 

      Leslie Rhodes (gradually raising her head)

Jealous watch!

 

      Crossmann (still reclining)

Never waken!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Must Day then

Awaken my beloved?

 

      Crossmann (raising his head a little)

Let Day give way

Before Death!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Should Day and Death

Both reach our love --

Miraculous a climb?

 

      Crossmann (raising himself up more)

Our love?

Michael's love?

Yours and mine,

Leslie's love?

What strokes of death

Could ever make it yield?

If might Death

Stood before me

Threatening

The very life in my body

Which I woudl so gladly leave

For love,

How could it reach

Love itself?

 

Were I to give my life

to that for which

I would so gladly die,

How could Love

Die with me --

How could the ever-living

End with me?

And if this Love

Never were to die,

Then how could Michael die

Of this love?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (lying on the grass,

            looking up)

But our love --

Is it not Michael

And Leslie?

This sweet little world;

And would death not destroy

The bonds of love

Which it entwines

If Michael were to die?

 

      Crossmann

What could die

But that which troubles us,

Preventing Michael

From ever loving Leslie,

For ever loving only her?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Yet this little word --

And were it destroyed,

How else but together

With Leslie's own life

Would death be given to Michael?

 

Crossmann, with a sad smile, gently draws Leslie Rhodes to him.

 

      Crossmann

Thus might we die,

That together,

Ever one,

Without end,

Never waking,

Never fearing,

Namelessly

Enveloped in love,

Given up to each other,

To live only for love!

 

      Leslie Rhodes (in a reflective rapture,

            looking up at him)

Thus would we die,

That together --

 

      Crossmann

Ever one,

Without end --

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Never waking --

 

      Crossmann

Never fearing --

 

      Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes

Namelessly

Enveloped in love,

Given up to ourselves

To live only for love!

 

Crossmann kisses Leslie Rhodes again.  He tastes the sweet of her mouth.  He becomes aroused again.  She is pleased.  Her eyes become urgent flames.  She opens her body to him, opening her thighs.  He slips into her.  Everything warm and supple.  Sweet.  Eyes closing.  Annihilating Time.  One relevant motion.  Stirring the cauldron.  His love is massive.  Her love is vast.  Trying to get each drop, each oceanic cluster.  Hot mercury.  Hot manifesto.  One relevant motion.  Both hearts beating cadences.  Cadences of manias.  One-two; one-two.  Deeper into softness; deeper into hardness.  Making her swim.  Making his head spin.  One mouth breathing.  Lips against lips; nipples touching chest hair.   Excitement in her brain.  Tingling in her toes.  The feeling coming near again: the silent screaming in her spine.  Riding on the love wagon; climbing on the elm.  Blasting.  Blasting hot mercury everywhere.  Honey on her lips.  Honey in her hips.  The moon burying everyone.  Fractions.  Fractions.  Nothing minus nothing.  Nothing minus nothing.  Fractions.  Fractions.  The point of contact.  Love for many years running backward; backward to a moment of meeting.  The young girl then, wed less than a week.  He tried to avoid her, knowing she had a spouse.  Avoiding her brown hair, falling on her shoulders; avoiding her sparkling eyes; her shy glance; her petite body; her fragmentary life.  Her hands; her graceful walk.  Trying to avoid her.  But coming back.  A thought.  A memory of something.  Unable to touch her, to possess her.  Now, unshackled by Time, he is touching her, touching her in a sacred part, touching her with his manly emergency, the love liquor coming in and going out, turning his brain in to mescaline.  No thoughts; only the primal epilepsy.  Deeper into her spine.  Mother and lover and daughter and sister.  Plowing the earth again.  Opening the furrows for the seed.

 

      The Voice of Brangaene (from the tower)

Beware!

Beware!

The Night soon gives way to Day!

 

      Crossman (smiling down at Leslie

            Rhodes)

Shall I listen?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (dreamily looking up at

            Crossmann)

Let me die first!

 

      Crossmann

Must I waken?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Never waken!

 

      Crossmann

Shall Day still

Awaken this Crossmann?

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Let Day ever give way

To Death!

 

      Crossmann (moving rhythmically above

            his beloved)

Have we Day's menaces

Thus defied?

Defiling the edifices

Of order and recourse?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (in growing rapture)

Ever to flee its guile.

 

      Crossmann

Did its dawning

Never frighten us?

 

      Leslie Rhodes (rising up in a grand

            gesture)

May our Night endure for ever!

 

      Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes Together

Oh, eternal Night,

Sweet Night!

Gloriously sublime

Night of love!

Those whom you have embraced

Upon whom you have smiled,

How could they ever waken

Without fear?

No banish dread,

Sweet death,

Yearned for, longed for,

Death-in-love!

In your arms,

Consecrated to you,

Sacred elemental quickening force,

Free from the peril of waking!

How to grasp it,

How to leave it,

This bliss

Far from the Sun's,

Far from the Day's

Parting sorrows!

Free from delusion

Gentle yearning,

Free from fearing

Sweet longing.

Free from sighing

Except in pleasure.

Free from sighing

Except in feeling.

And in regal sensation;

My toes tingle

In consummation.

Free from sighing

Sublime expiring.

Free from languishing

Enclosing darkness.

No evasion,

No parting,

Just we alone,

Ever home,

Ever here,

Ever moving,

In unmeasured realms

Of ecstatic unified

Fusion.

 

      Crossmann

Michael you,

I Leslie,

No longer Michael.

 

      Leslie Rhodes

You Leslie,

Michael I,

No longer Leslie.

 

      Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes Together

Un-named good,

Free from parting,

New perception,

New enkindling;

New entwining,

Newly entered,

Flesh that's parting,

Flesh that's giving;

Ever-endless

Flame of passion,

Self-expanding,

Self-contracting;

Point of pain

And point of joy;

Fastly thrashing,

Splashing brashly;

Life's emission,

Life's contrition;

Flame that enters

Life's condition;

Star and seed and globe and ember

Builds the world that we

Remember;

Home and earth and water's mound,

Fill it now and worlds

abound.

Warmly glowing heart is real;

Love's most utter joy

Congeals.

 

They remain in a rapturous embrace as the music swells, building to a crescendo.  Crossmann feels the music enter him and possess him.  He feels the music as if it were, indeed, his own nervous system.  Rising up in him.  A snake.  A raging  dragon.  Beneath him, inside him, Leslie Rhodes is also a snake.  They are the same snake.  They move together in a ritual of heaven.  The drums pound together; back off; then pound together again, the primal rush of blood pumping and pumping, everything pumping.  Spreading her beneath him, a sky, a southern sky, filled with constellations.  He is the northern sky.  They move in a rhapsody.  Spilling themselves whenever they move.  'Overflowing' Leslie says breathlessly.  'Overflowing.'  'Overflowing.' 

 

The music breaks, signaling a pinnacle.  Crossmann begins to fall, giving himself entirely to her.  Planting his seed.  His body explodes.  There are thousands of stars which are scattered in the night  sky.  Crossmann  has scattered his own stars.  Leslie embraces them -- and lets them spread.

 

                  The curtain falls.

 

Marge runs to the couple with a pair of robes

 

 

      Marge (as Brangaene)

My lord, you will certainly cause a stir

With that piece of thespian bravura!

Is this 'realitic theatre' then?

It looked so real to me, I swear --

Fantatic thoughts swept over me.

That bit of innovation was not

In the script --

Though, I'm sure, many enjoyed

This acting

Although, surely, less than you....

 

                        to Leslie Rhodes

 

Is not your husband

Watching this play...?

Come awy with me.

We must freshen up

Your make-up...

 

                        Crossmann kisses Leslie Rhodes

                        sweetly on the lips as she leaves

                        with Marge.

 

                        They exit.

 

                        Crossmann covers his own nakedness

                        with the robe.

 

      William Crossmann

Diseased part!

Love is the opiate of the masses...!

 

      Crossmann

Let me drink of it more then

And become delirious with this flower!

You are suggesting that I, finally,

Am one with the masses...?

 

      William Crossmann

Your destiny is not that!

Who shall be our Caesar?

Who shall be our....

 

      Crossmann

Our Nietzschean ritual --

Our Wagnerian nightmare...?

 

      William Crossmann

The real world moves one,

Moving closere to annihilation...!

 

      Crossmann

The annihiliation of what...?

 

      William Crossmann

The annihilation of reason!

 

      Crossmann

Is it the millenium which haunts you?

Is that why your so stirred by the imagery

Of loss...?

 

                        William Crossmann is silent.

 

Is it Y2K?

Will the computers all stop;

Will the banks all fail;

Will nuclear reactors implode,

Poisoning the Earth with their debris?

Will Russia's missiles accidently fire,

Generating a firestorm of destruction?

Is that fear the one driving your apocalypse?

Will chaos sweep across the land

While I am dallying in the web

Of the Moon...?

 

      William Crossmann

Look around you --

All you know will surely vanish...!

 

      Crossmann

So it is with life.

Everything we know will disappear!

 

      William Crossmann

You waste your time on love.

It is a great illusion!

 

      Crossmann

At least a great illusion!

No less than all the rest...?

     

      William Crossmann

Not great like that of king...!

 

      Crossmann

That is your dream, not mine.

I care not to be the king;

The presidency will have to wait

For me...!

 

      William Crossmann

Destiny has clay feet.

I do not say it is your dream!

But, instead, it is your burden!

We both know what drives you here --

What forces carries you on its string!

Shadow-puppet...!

 

      Scorcese

Ten seconds!

 

      Crossmann

Day and Night.

You despise the middle class.

You've been instructed by your elders --

The Beats.

They would rather you die in the gutter,

Vomiting in your mother's john,

Sticking needles under the tongue,

Being beaten senseless in Arabia

By young queer thieves --

That is the destiny they value here.

Judge the tree by its fruit;

Judge the fruit by the quality of the

Core.

Turn your back on Love

And your are left only with negation.

You hate the middle path --

The middle class --

Your own beginnings.

Yet, in the end, this is closest to God --

For it is closest to Life!

Both other extremes salute, instead,

The Powers of Death!

You do not need to fulfill your fear:

 

                        singing in the strained, bourbon voice of

                        Tom Waits

 

'A dusty old suitcase

To a hotel some place...'

 

      William Crossmann

Death is Life.  Deat is Spiritual Life...!

 

      Crossmann

So says the Anti-Universe!

So says the Southern Hemisphere --

Seeking to seduce the Northern half

To die!

So says the Dark Man,

The Shadow Man,

Who has no place

In the Land of the Light...!

 

      William Crossmann

Do you not hear the song

You've just sung!

There is no place for you

In the daylight!

Not now --

Not now that King Mark

Is approaching!

She will reject you again!

She will cast you down into hell

As she once did!

Women cannot be trusted, my brother!

This is all a dream!

Wake yourself!

Before it is too late!

Wake yourself -- you have a duty

To perform!

You have an historical destiny

To fulfill...!

 

      Scorcese

Places everyone!

 

      Crossmann

I love you, brother!

And I always will!

But Life is a tyrant, even as Death

Is also one.

Each of us shall be glorious and true

In a future sphere!

Brothers shall always remain true --

Except, perhaps, in the opera...!

 

      William Crossmann

There is no distinction between Opera

And Life --

Except that, in opera, perhaps,

The singing is best...!

 

      Crossmann

To live in the myth

Is to live in a higher place!

To live in the myth of love

Is a place even higher

Than is power...!

 

      William Crossmann

So says the man not feeling

His own loss of power --

And, with this, his terror...!

 

                        The Magician is standing beside

                        William, dressed as a kinght, Melot.

 

      The Magician

The myth of love is a mountain from which

Some are doomed to fall.

This is the reason the marriage vow --

Thine own and others --

Never should be breached

By a third!

For God does not endure

Such a folly!

 

Crossmann returns to the stage, to the garden setting -- taking off his robe and lying naked in the grass.

                       

Leslie Rhodes joins him, disrobing also, lying naked in the grass.

 

Don Rhodes stands in the wings, dressed as King Mark.

 

                        The curtain rises.

                       

                        Same setting.  A garden in the woods near Isolde's house.

 

                        Brangaene emits a shrill cry.  Kurwenal rushes in with

                        sword drawn.

 

      Kurwenal

Save yourself, Tristan!

 

                        Horrified, Kurwenal casts a glance offstage.  King Mark, Melot and

                        courtiers in hunting dress come raplidly out of the trees and stop

                        in horror at the sight of the lovers.  Brangaene has climbed down

                        from the tower; she runs up to Isolde, holding up a piece of brocaded

                        cloth, behind which Isolde dresses.  Tristan rises naked before the

                        intruders.  He stands naked before them, unable to move. 

 

      Tristan

The desert Day

For the last time.

 

      Melot

Now tell me, my lord,

Was I right to accuse him?

I gave you my pledge

With my head as a bond.

I have shown him to you

In this very act.

Your name and your honor

I have loyally

Preserved from disgrace.

 

      King Mark (in a state of shock, trembling)

Have you indeed?

Is that what you think?

Look at him there,

The most faithful of the loyal.

Cast your eyes upon him,

My dearest of friends.

His loyalty's

Freest deed

Pierced my heart

With its hostile treachery!

If Tristan so betray me,

Am I to hope

That what his treachery

Has cost me

By Melot's counsel

Shall be honestly restored

To me?

 

      Tristan (with confusion)

Spirits of the Day!

Fantastic dream!

Deceitful and desolate!

Fade away!  Give way!

 

      King Mark (deeply affected)

This to me?

This, Tristan, to me?

Whither has loyalty fled

Now that Tristan has betrayed me?

What price now honor

And honesty,

Now the champion of all that honor,

Tristan, has rent me?

As Tristan appointed himself

its emblem,

Where has virtue

Flown to,

Fleeing from my friend,

From Tristan,

Who has betrayed me?

 

                        Tristan slowly lowers his gaze, while Mark continues.

                        Sorrow can be read clearly in Tristan's face.

 

Why did you serve me

For so long?

Why the reputation of honor

The power and greatness

Which you won for King Mark?

Did the honor and renown,

The greatness and the power,

The services beyond numbers --

Why re-pay me with dishonor?

Did you value so lightly

His gratitude

Which gave you as your

Very own inheritance

That which your have won

For him,

His renown and his Kingdom?

When, childless,

His wife died,

He loved you so much

That more never again

Did Mark intend to wed.

When all the people

From the court and country

Thronged to him,

Begging and imploring him

To give the country a queen

And to take for himself

A wife --

When you, yourself, swore

To your uncle

That you would carry out

The wishes of the court

And the wants then of the country,

Againt the wishes of court and country,

In opposition to even you,

With circumspection and kindness

He declined,

Until you, Tristan, threatened

To exile yourself for ever more

From court and country

If you, yourself,

Were not dispatgched

To win a bride for the King.

And so he let it

This glorious woman

That your courage won for me,

Who could behold again,

Who could know again,

Who could proudly

Call again his own

And not think himself blessed?

She, who I could more

Never dare approach,

She for whom I

Foreswore my desires

Into bashful reverence,

So splendid,

So lovely, so sublime,

Who could not but

Refresh my soul,

The pits of enemies and dangers

This royal bride

You presented to me.

Why so sorely,

Wretched one,

Did you wound me there now?

There, with the weapon

Of tormenting poison,

Searing and maiming

My sense and my mind

Thus that my fielity

To my friend i stifled,

My open heart

Filled with suspicion,

Thus that now, secretly,

And into the dead of night

I came creeping upon yu,

My friend,

Eavesdropping,

To see my honor ended?

No heaven shall redeem it

For me!

Why this outrage?

Why this disgrace?

The uncharted depths

Of its mysterious causes --

Who, if not you, could

Expose these roots to me...?

 

      Crossmann (to Leslie)

Can you believe your husband so speaks?

Such a sad man, without hope in the world.

Speaking to me like I were his wife.

The script is turned like a fat fryer

On a spit.

 

      Don Rhodes (to Leslie)

Bitch!  Would that you and I never were wed!

You, the mother of my children!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

Our love has died a thousand times,

Died, and never been born;

Though I did not wish to see it end

In such a show

To hurt you so.

 

      Don Rhodes

Your children shall know your deed:

Spread about here like a common disgrace!

Heretic to Satan's creed!

Common Hester!

Common Prynne...!

 

      Crossmann (to Don Rhodes)

Our love's endured a thousand years,

A millenium, it's true.

And though you married her days before I,

You did not marry her

As deeply.

Our wound runs deep into the Earth

And beyond;

Our wound runs into the first

Hydrogen mass

Sung by the angels

Before the world was even conceived!

 

      Don Rhodes

Words serve you well, fallow poet!

Words are good to get the woman

Free of her clothes!

And she so eager to reward your diction!

But what of honor and respect

For your now-desecrated world?

You speak of God and of trust

And of responsibile life --

Of the power of the angel whom

You claim to be --

But you scratch and sniff

And then everything devolves..!

 

                        To Crossmann

 

You deserve the wife you had,

Who spread herself to Fenton,

The fraud,

The man with money in his hat

Who boinked your wife

On every occassion --

Every moment you turned

Your back upon her.

Though you and my wife

Did not do the same,

In fleshly caverns,

You did so in thought.

You should know that your daughter,

Christina,

Is not your own --

She is Fenton's seed...!

 

      Crossmann

How do you know such a thing?

 

      Don Rhodes

I am no imbecile, you know.

I watch Jerry Springer,

The master of filth.

To the decay in which you live,

He, Mister Springer, pays adoration,

Dragging the flagging culture

Into hell,

For the sake of silver.

 

A DNA test was done for his show;

It showed, resolutely,

The child is not yours.

Even your son apparently was not yours,

The one that you murdered --

Apparently your seed

Has no big bang...!

 

      Leslie Rhodes

That is not true.

I now carry his child in my womb...!

 

      The Magician (aside)

Fantastic operation, this!

I'm impressed by the scope

Of this dream...!

 

                        Tristan raises his eyes to meet King Mark's own eyes in sympathy.

 

      Tristan

Oh, King,

I cannot tell you the causes;

What you would ask

You can never more know

From me

Than can I.

 

                        He turns to Isolde; she looks at him longingly.

 

Wherever Tristan now goes,

You, Isolde, shall you

Follow him?

To that country of which

I have spoken anon:

Where the sun's light

Does not shine;

It is the dark,

The country of Night --

Out of which my mother

Sent me,

When he, whom she bore,

On his deathbed before,

Left, in his death,

To reach toward the light.

From that which Isolde drew me,

Within her fortress of love,

Her wondrous realm of Night --

From which I am now

Awakened.

 

That is what Tristan offers you,

Thither he shall precede you.

Whether she shall follow him

Into grace and faith,

Let Isolde now tell him.

 

      Isolde

When, for a foreign country,

My beloved once won for another

My love,

That ungracious one I followed

Faithfully and graciously.

Now you return

To your own estates

To show me your

Inheritance;

How should I flee that country

When splintered and rent

This country's become?

 

Wherever Tristan's home shall be

There let Isolde go;

There let her follow him

Into grace and faith again.

So now show

Isolde the way!

 

                        Tristan bends over and kisses Isolde on the forehead.

 

                        Melot moves forward aggressively.

 

      Melot (drawing his sword)

Traitor!  Ha!

To vengeance, my King!

Will you suffer this shame?

 

                        Tristan draws his own sword from his pile of clothing.

 

      Tristan

Who dares his life against mine.

 

                        He fixes his gaze on Melot.

 

This was my friend;

Exalted and dear

Was his devotion to me;

For my honor and reputation

None was more concerned

Than was he.

To impetuousness

He drove my heart;

He let the crowd

That urged me

To add to my honor and renown

And to give you to the King

As a bride!

The sight of you, Isolde,

Blinded him too.

Our of jealousy was I

Betrayed by my friend

To the King

Whom I had betrayed.

 

                        He strides up to Melot.

 

Defend yourself, Melot!

 

                        Melot raises his sword; and Tristan lowers his, allowing himself to

                        be wounded.  Tristan falls into Kurwenal's arms; Isolde moves to

                        Tristan, weeping.  King Mark stands between Melot and Tristan,

                        forbidding Melot's further attack.

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

      The Magician (dressed as Melot, to

            Crossmann)

This destiny is such a sad one!

You could take the elevator up one floor;

Then you could marry your love.

'Fidelio' plays above.

It is a grander view for love.

It shows how the greater woman is.

She is not the victim of the devil's lust;

Neither is she society's pawn;

She is the savior of her one true love,

The faithful wife,

Faithful partner for life...!

 

      Marge (to Crossmann)

Please put your costume on!

We have seen quite enough

Of old man Johnson for one night...!

 

                        Marge hands Crossmann his costume.

 

Crossmann begins to dress.  He notices a piece of paper lying beneath a wheel of the discarded garden set.  He bends down to pick up the paper.  It is a program.  Crossmann reads it:

 

 

"Man On a Tightrope" -- an opera in five acts.  Music by Charles Gounod, Richard Wagner, William Shakespeare, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Phil Ochs, Joni Mitchell, Mick Jagger, Leonard Cohen, Loreena McKennit, Ice-T, Michael Stipe, Peter Gabriel and Ludwig Van Beethoven.  Directed by Martin Scorcese.  Based on the life of Michael J. Crossmann.

 

      Crossmann (to Scorcese)

Can you explain this to me?

 

      Scorcese (blushing somewhat)

I can and I will.

As soon as you put on your trousers.

I don't really wish to hold a discourse

With Old Man River, thank you very much.

 

Your innovations in the script will cause

You much discomfort,

I am sure about that.

I hope it felt good for you --

It looked like it did --

Because it was very unprofessional!

I am sure Mister Wagner,

That old racist egomaniac,

Would have a thing or two to say

About your callous hijacking

Of his lyrics too.

Plus the fact that Leslie's husband

Is out there in the audience!

Who knows, maybe her daughters

Are out there too!

He's probably got a loaded gun

Out there --

A '44 magnum, most likely --

You can imagine what a '44 magnum

Would do to your holiday worm!

A sight unsightly, I am sure!

No one would blame him either --

Not after what he saw on this stage!

Oh, I know you're going to tell me you

Love her --

And I can understand that!

But we are trying to live in a society!

We have rules!

Isn't a hotel good enough for you!

That is what the rest of us do!

For you to so routinely disregard policy

About no love-making on the stage

Before an audience --

You knew the rules before I signed you

To this contract --

And don't pretend that you didn't know!

Yes, it is good for the opera!

I saw more opera glasses pressed into

Fat faces

Than I can ever remember!

And you can be sure that all tickets

Will be sold out for tomorrow's show!

But what about professionalism!

Cover up your Hercules!

You're pretty proud of yourself!

What do you think this is, a dream!

Something you can take back

Just by waking up!

I wish life was like that, mister!

I really wish it was!

I've got news for you, sonny --

You stick your cob into a dark place

And you better know who's watching

And you'd better expect some reaction!

I can't blame you though!

You certainly took the role to a

Higher level...!

 

      Crossmann

Speaking of which...!

 

      Scorcese

Speaking of what...?

 

      Crossmann

Speaking of taking the role to a higher level.

What the hell is this program about --

'Man On a Tightrope'...?

 

      Scorcese

Oh, it's nothing.

The movie was such a hit;

And you're such a hot item at the moment.

Right at the top of your fifteen minutes!

You have to strike while the iron is hot!

I mean, why not take the next step!

Why not take the role to a higher level?

Yes -- indeed!

It's logical -- don't you agree?

 

      Crossmann

So when do I get to the next level?

 

      Scorcese

You know where the elevator is!

 

      Crossmann

But Leslie is here.

 

      Scorcese

She might be there too.

 

      Crossmann

But maybe not.

 

      Scorcese

Yes -- maybe not.

Anything is possible.

Time is funny, isn't it?

I thought I saw you sleeping

In the mezzanine a moment ago.

Sleeping!

Bored with this production!

But how could you be?

I mean up there -- not bored!

I know how you could be bored

With the production!

This is quite simple to understand!

But your being there and being here --

That really turns the screw a bit!

You'd better get into position now!

The curtain is going up again!

 

      Crossmann

What is there on the top floor?

Is it more of the same --

More of this?

Or is it alltogether more...?

 

      Scorcese

It is what it is!

I don't know what it is really!

Is it good; is it bad?

Is it virtuous -- or only

Horrendous merchandising...?

I don't know.

Oh, by the way,

We made a deal with McDonalds.

For every purchase of a Big Big Biggy Meal

And a Pig Pig Piggy Drink

We are giving away dolls of you

In your many formats:

Faust, Tristan, Julius Caesar;

The Prisoner of Oprah,

Bill Clinton with Sophie Tucker

In her stained dress;

As the Hangman,

With the three boys hanging from

The rafters;

As the Cuckolded Husband;

As the Military Leader;

The Misunderstood Artist;

Of course, you on the cross;

As Michael the Archangel;

And in black-face doing rap.

At the Last Supper too!

It will make us all a mint!

It will be good for this production too!

Now we're talking a Tony --

Not to mention an Oscar!

We're at the top of the world!

Go ahead, get ready!

At the top of the world!

You'd better enjoy it now!

It isn't the end of the rainbow,

You know!

We're at the middle of the rainbow

Now --

Then it arches down to the ground!

You'd better be ready!

The good things go away!

Go ahead!  Get ready!

I knew you'd understand!

That's why I signed the contract

For you!

You're a practical man!

Better take your place

 

                        Scorcese cries:

 

Ten seconds!

 

Crossmann, dazed, turns back to the stage.

 

      William Crossmann

You know you will die

If you stay here!

 

      Crossmann

What?

 

      William Crossmann

You'll die if you stay here!

You know the story of Tristan and Isolde!

It's a tragedy -- everyone dies!

That means that you will die!

There are people everywhere

Who want you to die...!

 

      Crossmann

The Artist as the Tragic Hero, you mean?

 

      William Crossmann

Yes, the Artist as the Tragic Hero!

It always leads to the grave, you know!

     

      Crossmann

So, where should I go?

 

      William Crossmann

I don't know.

Up, up somewhere!

But there are dangers there too!

Somewhere above,

Bush and Gore are planning to

Kill you!

I heard them talking in secret!

They fear losing the golden cow!

They believe your latter two initials

Stand, not for Jesus Christ,

As you would have it,

But for Julius Caesar!

They say that your threaten

America's democratic nature!

That you are an imperial force!

It is not a loss of democracy they fear

But a loss of oligarchy!

They believe you have come

To announce America's

Imperial Age!

They are plotting to destroy you...!

 

      Crossmann

I don't understand that!

 

      William Crossmann

Neither do I!

But these are my lines!

I am reading from the script!

 

      Crossmann

Who writes this script?

 

      William Crossmann

I don't know -- I thought you did!

 

      Scorcese

Places!

 

Crossmann moves out on the stage and lies down on the couch.  Kurwenal stands beside him.

 

                        Castle garden. At one side is a tall castle building; at  the other is a

                        low parapet with a look-out post; upstage is a castle gate.  The location

                        can be seen as being a rock height; through openings the sea and the

                        distant horizon can be seen.  the whole scene conveys an impression

                        of being deserted, ill-tended, here and there in poor repair and

                        overgrown.  Dowstage, inside the wlal, Tristan is lying in the shad of

                        a tall lime-tress, alseep on a couch, laid out as if lifeless.  At his

                        head sits Kurwenal, bent over him in anguish and carefully

                        listening to his breating.  As the curtain goes up, there can be heard

                        from outside the gate a shepherd palying a sad, yearning tune on a

                        reed.  At length, the shepherd appers over the parapet and looks in

                        with sympathetic interest.

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

      Shepherd (softly)

Kurwenal, hey!

Listen, Kurwenal!

Hear, my friend!

 

                        Kurwenal partly turns his head towards the Shepherd.

 

Is he still not awake?

 

      Kurwenal (sadly shaking his head)

Were he to waken

It would only be

To depart for ever,

If she, the healer,

Does not first appear,

The only one to succour us.

Have you seen nothing yet.

Still no ship at sea?

 

      Shepherd

A different eune

Would you hear then,

As merry as I could make it.

Now, tell me truly,

My old friend,

What ails our lord?

 

      Kurwenal

Do not ask.

You can never know.

Keep a sharp look-out;

And if you see a ship

Play merrily and clearly!

 

                        The shepherd turns and gazes out to sea, his hand shielding his eyes.

 

      Shepherd

Desolate and void the sea!

 

                        He puts the reed to his lips and departs, playing mournfully.

 

      Tristan (motionless, dully)

That old tune?

Why does it waken me?

 

                        He opens his eyes and turns hishead a little.

 

Where am I?

 

      Kurwenal (starts, surprised)

Ha!  That voice!

His voice!

Tristan!  My lord!

My hero!  My Tristan!

 

      Tristan (with difficulty)

Who is calling me?

 

      Kurwenal

At last!  At last!

Life, of life,

Sweet life,

Restored to my Tristan!

 

      Tristan (raising himself up from his couch, a flat tone)

Kureenal?  You?

Where have I been?

Where am I now?

 

      Kurwenal

Where are you?

In peace, safe and free,

In Kareol, my lord!

Do you not recognise the castle

Of your fatherss?

 

      Tristan

Of my fathers?

 

      Kurwenal

Just look about you!

 

      Crossmann

Has she gone then?

I do not see her

 

      The Magician

What do you expect?

She knows this ending.

Would you ask her to remain here

To the bitter end?

 

      Tristan

What did I hear?

 

      Kurwenal

The shepherd's tune --

Which you heard once more,

Down on the hillside;

He is watching o'er your flocks.

 

      Crossmann

Yet, I remain.

 

      The Magician

You cannot leave.

It is in your contract --

You cannot leave until the end.

 

      Tristan

My flocks?

 

      Kurwenal

My lord, just as I say!

Yours is the house,

Court and castle!

The people, loyal

To their dear lord,

As well as they could manage,

Have looked after the house and court

Which once, my lord,

As their very own heritage,

Granted to the people

When he left it all behind

To travel to a foreign land.

 

      Crossmann

And she said nothing before she left?

 

      The Magician

I believe she left with her husband,

A dusty looking man,

All erection and ideology:

An engineer, by trade, I believe.

He had the look of it.

All erection in mood and spirit

But, I trust, not in ardor's imagination.

     

      Crossmann

She went with him -- willingly...?

 

      The Magician

I believe he surprised her tonight,

Saying he wished to attend the opera

Beside her.

And so the ticket meant for you,

Somehow, went to him.

Fidelio was sold out;

So, instead, she bought another

Ticket for you,

Pained as she was

That you would not be her beloved

Guest.

 

      Tristan

To which land?

 

      Kurwenal

Why, to Cornwall!

Bravely and gaily,

What glory,

Fortune and honor

Tristan, my hero,

Won for himself there!

 

      Tristan

Am I in Cornwall now?

 

      Kurwenal

Of course not!

You are in Kareol!

 

      Crossmann

Did we not make love on this stage?

 

      The Magician

It was the glasses, sir.

That is why I love those glasses.

I wish I had them back in all honesty.

They make many things possible

That Time, itself, will not allow.

 

      Crossmann

Are you the devil, then?

 

      The Magician

The glasses, I'm afraid.

 

      Crossmann

And what of this opera --

The program I saw recently:

"Man on a Tightrope"?

Is this thing real?

 

      The Magician

As real as a boil.

 

      Crossmann

Not the glasses?

Not these....opera glasses?

 

      The Magician

Alas, the glasses add ombre.

But the opera remains --

A glassy archive of your life and dreams.

 

      Tristan

How did I get here?

 

      Kurwenal

Indeed!  How did you get here?

You didn't come on horseback;

A boat brought you here.

But to the ship,

Here, on my shoulders,

I did carry you -- for they are broad:

They carried you there to the shore.

Now you are home;

At home in your country;

Really at home,

In your mother country;

Amidst your own meadows and delights,

In the light of the old sun

Where from death and from your wounds

You will, blessedly, be healed.

 

                        Kurwenal embraces Tristan.

 

      Crossmann

And how do I flee this place?

 

      The Magician

You do not flee it, surely.

You must master it.

 

      Crossmann

And how do I master it?

 

      The Magician

By getting to the highest place.

By reaching a kind of mountain top.

You are in the Waters of Love now --

A blessed place -- but also a cursed place.

There is so much pleasure here.

But it is also a place where

The uninitiated drown.

 

      Crossmann

Will I marry Leslie in this place?

 

      The Magician

I cannot tell you.

This is in my contract.

There is death brought to the man

Who tells another his fate

Prior to its delivery.

How can you marry the woman?

She is already wed?

 

      Crossmann

The glasses!

Because of the glasses!

 

      The Magician

Ahh!  Anything is possible

With those damned glasses

I suppose.

 

      Tristan (after a brief silence)

Is that what you think?

I know differently --

But I am not able to tell you.

When I awoke,

There I was not;

But where I was

I cannot tell you.

I did not see the sun,

Nor did I see land and people;

But what I did see

I cannot tell you.

It was where I had been

Before I was

And where I am

Destined to go,

In the wide realm

Of the Night of the World.

But one certain knowledge

Is our there:

Divine, Eternal

Utter oblivion.

How did I cease to perceive it?

Yearning remembrance

Did I call you,

Driving me on anew

Towards the light of Day.

The one thing that I remembered,

A warm and ardent love

Drives me from the terror

Of Death's bliss

To see the light,

Which, deceiving, bright and golden,

Still shine about you, Isolde!

 

                        Kurwenal, in the grip of terror, hides his face.  Tristan

                        gradually raises himself up.

 

Isolde still

In the realm of the Sun!

In the shimmer of Day

Still, Isolde!

What longing!

What fearing!

To see her,

What desire!

The crash that I heard

Behind me

Was Death's

Door closing!

Now, once more, it stands

Wide open,

The sun's beams

Have burst it open;

With wide open eyes

I had to emerge from Night

To see her;

To see her;

In her alone

To expire,

To vanish,

Has it been granted to Tristan

Alas, there now rise up

Within me,

Pale and fearful,

Day's wild urgings;

Baleful and deceiving,

Its orb

Rouses my mind

To deceit and folly!

Accursed Day

With your lifht!

Will you for ever

Be witness to my anguish?

Will it burn for ever,

This Light,

When even at night

Kept me from her?

Ahh, Isolde,

Sweet beatuy!

When at last,

When, oh when

Will you extinguish the spark,

That I may know my fortune?

The light -- when will it be

Extinguished?

 

                        He sinks back, exhausted.

 

When will Night come

To the house?

 

      Crossmann

Poor man!

 

      The Magician

It is you, yourself --

Do you not remember?

The only thing missing

Is the corpse of your father!

 

      Crossmann

It is all so long ago.

 

      The Magician

Three faces of love:

One, he deceives, guided by Lust;

Two, he bleeds, bedeviled by Destiny;

Three, he achieves, loved by she,

Whose love is true,

Whose loyalty weaves

A blessing of fidelity.

 

      Crossmann

And what is in-between?

 

      The Magician

His struggle for power.

Day and Night.

Day and Night.

 

      Crossmann

And what else?

 

      The Magician

His public degradation.

 

      Crossmann

We have had that!

Nothing more?

 

      The Magician

What is it you seek?

 

      Crossmann

His deception by his wife?

 

      The Magician

Oh, that is reserved

For the other world,

For the Anti-World --

We do not see it here.

 

                        Kurwenal is deeply shocked in hearing this.  He tries to pull

                        himself out of his depressed state.

 

      Kurwenal

She whom I once defied

Out of loyalty to you,

With you to her

I must now long to go.

Believe what I say:

You shall see her

Here this very day.

That consolation I can give you --

If she is still alive herself.

 

      Crossmann

I shall see her?

 

      The Magician

Oh, undoubtedly.

 

      Crossmann

Then she has not gone!

 

      The Magician

She is gone -- but she comes.

She comes -- but she is gone.

 

      Crossmann

The glasses again?

 

      The Magician

Partly that -- and partly the nature

Of myth.

And the fact that the writer

Of this opera

Longs to bring you back

Together.

Longs for the tragic to return.

 

      Tristan (very faintly)

Still the light is not extinguished;

Still Night does not come to the house!

Isolde still lives and keeps watch;

She called me out of the Night.

 

      Kurwenal

If she lives then,

Let hope smile upon you!

Even if you think Kurwenal is foolish,

Today you will not scold him.

As if dead you lay there

Since the day

When Lemot, the villain,

Dealt you a wound.

That evil wound --

How to heal it?

To me, simple that I am,

It rather seems that

She who once before eased for you

The torment of Morold's wound,

She could easily heal the torment

Of Melot's sword.

The best physician

I soon discovered:

To Cornwall I have

Sent word;

A faithful man

Is bringing Isolde here

Across the sea.

 

                        Music swells.  The deep uneasy proximity to the chasm is relieved

                        by a leaping of the heart, by a rushing in of light.  A herald, a herald.

                        Good news travels fast.  Life surges in the veins.  Hope is possible,

                        even in this remote outcropping, so high and close to eternity.

 

      Tristan (joyful)

Isolde is coming!

Isolde approaches!

 

                        He strugtgles for words.

 

Of, faith!

Behold sweet faith!

 

                        He embraces Kurwenal.

 

My Kurwenal,

Dearest friend!

Unshakeably faithful --

How is Tristan to thank you?

Myshield and my guard

In battle and strife,

In merrymaking and sorrow,

Always by my side.

He that I hated,

You hated too.

Him I worshipped,

You worshipped too.

To the good King Mark,

When I served him well,

You were truer than gold!

When I had to betray

That noble lord,

How glad you were

To betray him also!

Over you own self,

Mine alone;

You suffer with me

When I suffer!

Only what I suffer now

You cannot suffer!

This fearful longing

That sears me;

This languishing flame

That consumes me;

Were I to give you its name,

Could you know it,

You would not tarry here,

You would hurry away to keep watch --

With all your senses

Longing to get away

To keep careful watch

For their billowing sais

Before the wind

Where, aflame with

The urgings of love,

To find me,

Isolde is sailing towrds me.

It approaches!  It approaches,

Speedy and brave!

It waves; it waves;

The flag on the mast!

The ship! The ship!

Thre it goes past the reef!

Can't you see it?

 

                        Feverishly speaking:

 

Kurwenal, can't you see it?

 

                        As Kurwenal hesitates, so as not to leave Tristan, and the latter

                        looks at him, silent and tense, there sounds out, as before, at

                        first nearby, and then in the distance, the plaintive tune of the

                        shepherd.

 

      Kurwenal

Still no ship in sight!

 

      Crossmann

And there shall be no ship!

If this is my story,

This "Man On a Tightrope",

Then there shall be no ship.

When Leslie left I wrote her many letters --

And she wrote me a few,

In the beginning.

I expected her to return to me.

She said if her marriage ended

She would return to me.

But then the letters stopped.

I still wrote to her --

But no letters came to me.

Each day I stalked the mailbox,

Seeking my ship bearing

News of good fortune.

Day after day the box remained empty.

Day after day the box was my

Only hope.

For more than a year

I deceived myself so,

Believing a letter to cure my desolation

Was coming.

But it never came!

 

      The Magician

This is art -- not life, friend!

We must not forget that art

Is idealized life.

 

      Crossmann

By definition.

 

      The Magician

Argue with me

If you do not believe it so.

 

      Crossmann

Art, indeed, is beautified chaos,

Unless, by turns, it is chaotic beauty.

Clearly, beauty cannot

Be abandoned in art.

If by idealized you mean, as well,

Beautified --

Then I will not contest

Your reason.

In art, she needs to sail to him.

In life, she needs not write to him.

In art, if she does not sail to him,

He dies.

In life, if she does not write to him,

He continues to live

And hardens his soul somewhat.

 

                        Tristan has been listening with failing enthusiasm.  Now his

                        melancholy grows.

 

      Tristan

May I understand you thus,

You ancient, solemn tune,

With yoru plaintive tones?

Through the evening air

It came, fearfully,

As once it brought news to the child

Of his own father's death.

 

                        Crossmann

            Oh, this man is I!

 

      Tristan

Through the grey light of mornig,

Ever more fearful,

As the son

Became aware

Of his mother's lot.

 

An old woman appers and floats above the stage, ghostly.

 

      Crossmann's Mother

Why did you abandon me, Michael?

Why did you forget about me?

 

      Crossmann

You were so far away!

When I went to you

You thought that I was your brother!

 

      Crossmann's Mother

I would have crossed the world for you

An hundred times or more

Without complaint.

You come to see me only once,

Claiming distance was some boundary.

That brother of yours came not once

At all.

Where is a son's love for his mother?

Such an affront to habit

She becomes in old age!

 

                        The old woman leaves.

 

      Tristan

As he begat me and died,

So, dying, she bore me.

That ancient tune

Of anxious yearning

Sounded its lament

To them too,

Asking me then,

And asking me now,

For what fate

Was I then born?

For what fate?

The ancient tune

Tells me once more:

To yearn -- and to die!

No!  Ahh, no!

That is not it!

Yearning! Yearning!

While dying to yearn,

But not dying of yearning!

Never dying,

Yearning, calling out

For the peace of death

To the far-away physician.

Dying I lay

In the boat, silent,

The wound's poison

Near my heart;

In plaintive yearning

The tune sounded forth;

The wind blew the sail

Towards Irelan'ds child.

The wound which

She closed,

With the hot sword

She opened up again;

But then, the sword,

She lowered it;

The poison draught

She gave me to drink --

As I hoped fully

To be healed by it,

Then was the most searing

Magic unleashed:

That I might never die

But inherit eternal torment!

The draught!  The draught!

The fearful draught!

From my heart to my brain

It forced it furious way!

No healing,

No sweet death,

Can ever realease me

From yearnings' distress;

Never, ahh, never

Shall I find peace:

Night casts me out

Into Day,

Ever to feed my sorrows

In the sight of the sun.

Oh, this sun's

Searing rays,

How my head burns

From its scorching torture!

For the burning longing

Of this heat --

Ahh, no shade's

Dark Concealment!

For the burning longing's

Terrible torment

What ointment could

Bring me ease?

The fearful draught

That brings me anguish,

I, I myself,

Prepared it --

Is it not so!

From my father's distress,

And my mother's anguish,

From tears of love

Everlasting,

From laughing and weeping,

Happiness and hurts,

I found

The poisonous draught!

What I had prepared

Flowed towards me;

Devouring it blissfully

I enjoyed it --

Be accursed, fearful draught!

Cursed be he that

Prepared you!

 

                        Tristan falls back on the counch, unconscious.

 

      Crossmann

You prepared the draught for me!

 

      The Magician

You prepared it.

I merely handed it to you.

As Truman handed it to you earlier.

And John Preston before him.

And the Bosnian priest.

And the bouncer on Oprah's show.

Faramarz -- and his Arabic Millenium.

And Regis Philbin.

The topless beauty at the Fidelio Ball.

Genesis 21:15 - 19.

Michel de Nostradamus.

And, of course, the drink Ronald Reagan gave to you

That saved you from your death.

And the Flower-Gatherers.

The old man sitting in the shade.

And Shulamit, too.

The River Lethe.

Tamar's history.

 

      Crossmann

And you with your Wild Turkey!

 

      The Magician

Yes, and I too.

And Catherine the Great.

And the Spirit of Drink --

Your own creation.

The nectar you brewed

With your life -- your deeds --

You have consumed.

You, alone, are its maker.

 

      Crossmann

It has warped my world,

This mescaline nectar.

 

      The Magician

You have warped your world --

The water is not the cause!

 

      Crossmann

Some kind of black magic,

I swear!

 

      The Magician

Would that it were so easily so.

You seek to find yourself.

You drink yourself --

You drink your blood!

Flesh of his flesh

And blood of his blood!

 

                        Kurvenal tries to calm Tristan.  He cries out in horror.

 

Crossmann's father floats above the stage.  He comes torest, sitting on the couch near Tristan.

 

Jacob Crossmann as Kurvenal

 

      Kurvenal

My Lord!  My son!

Dreadful Magic!

Love's deception!

Passion's urgings!

The world's loveliest delusion --

What has happened to you?

Here he lies,

The splendid man,

Loved and adored as no other.

See now what thanks

Love has won for him,

The thanks that love always wins!

 

He speaks through tears.

 

 

Are you dead, son?

Are you still alive?

Has the curse borne you away?

 

He puts his head down on Tristan's chest, listening for breath.

 

Oh, joy!  Not dead!

He is moving; he is alive!

How gently he moves his lips!

 

Crossmann's father rises and floats off-stage.

 

                        Kurwenal is sitting on the couch beside Tristan.

 

      Tristan (slowly waking)

The ship -- can you see it yet?

 

      Kurwenal

The ship?  Of course,

It will be here today!

It cannot be far off now!

 

                        Sad music.  A dirge.  Coming in like a large wave bearing no ship,

                        no love, only the dark tide and the encroacing of the twilight.

 

      Crossmann

Kurwenal lies so nobly!

As you do yourself!

 

      The Magician

Only when I must!

 

      Crossmann

Only when the script

Says to lie...?

 

      The Magician

Precisely.

 

Crossmann and the Magician are sitting on the wall

of the castle structure, several stories up, looking down on the stage.

 

      Crossmann

Why did Jim betray me then?

 

      The Magician

What else was he to do?

He had no choice really.

He needed cash.

He has trouble from his business.

           

                        The Magician sings:

 

'Thirty pieces of silver;

Thirty pieces of silver...'

 

      Crossmann

I need to hear it from him.

 

      The Magician

Do not attempt to follow him

Into his dark places.

 

      Crossmann

Why not?

 

      The Magician

You are not allowed there.

 

      Crossmann

Why not?

 

      The Magician (smiling)

Your skin is the wrong hue.

 

      Crossmann

Jim does not care about that.

 

      The Magician

Jim cares about everything.

Jim keeps his thoughts to himself.

You do not know Jim, really.

You did him a service --

And he tried to re-pay you.

 

      Crossmann

I believe I will have to ask him

Why he allowed an assassin

To shoot at my heart.

Only a mis-fire kept me alive.

 

      The Magician

An invisible finger placed

Between the hammer and the jacket.

 

                        The Magician shows Crossmann a

                        swollen right index finger.

 

      Crossmann

I don't understand.

Who are you to me?

 

      The Magician

That question is not allowed.

Here, yuo may need this later on.

 

                        The Magician hands Crossmann a

                        tin of black shoe polish.

 

                        The music, again, rises.  A tide, an empty sea, carrying nothing,

                        endlessly, to shore.

 

      Tristan (somewhat delirius)

And on it Isolde,

How she is waving,

How sweetly she is drinking

Reconciliation to me.

Can you  see her?

Can't you see her yet,

As she sweetly,

Bravely and gently,

Wanders across

The watery plains?

On soft waves

Of blissful flowers

She gently comes

Into land.

She smiles at me,

Giving comfort and sweet peace;

She brings me

My last refreshment.

Ahh, Isolde!  Isolde!

How lovely you are!

 

And, Kurwenal, tell me:

Do you not see her?

Go and keep watch,

Foolish wretch!

What I can see so bright and clear,

Do not let it exscape you!

Can you not hear me?

Quickly, to the lookout!

Quickly, keep watch!

Are you still there?

The ship? The ship?

The ship is the thing!

Isolde's ship?

You must see it!

Must see it!

Ahab's folly!

The ship!

Can't you see it yet?

 

                        Kurwenal, hesitating, restrains Tristan.  Then the shepherd sounds

                        his pipe.  Kurwenal springs up joyfully.

 

      Kursenal

Oh, happiness!  Joy!

 

                        Kurwenal leaps to the lookout post and gazes out to sea.

 

Ahh, the ship!

I can see it approaching from the north!

 

            The Magician

A cold wind comes from the north!

Would, instead, a wind

Coming up from the south!

 

            Crossmann

Silance!

Take a geography lesson!

 

      Tristan

Didn't I know it?

Didn't I say

That she was still alive,

Sustaining life in me?

As the only thing

It holds for me,

How could Isolde

Have departed from the world?

 

      Kurswenal (calling for the lookout post, joyful)

Ahoy! Ahoy!

How bravely it sails!

How the sails are filled!

How it streaks alone;

How it flies...!

 

      Tristan

The flag?  The flag?

 

      Kurwenal

The festive flag at the masthead

Merry and bright!

 

      Tristan (raising himself up from his cot)

Ahh, the flag of joy!

In the clear light of Day,

To me, Isolde!

Isolde, to me!

Can you see Isolde hereself?

 

      Kurwenal

The ship has sailed

Behind the rocks!

 

      Tristan

Behind the reef --

Is it in danger?

There, in the turbulent current,

Ships have wrecked!

Who is at the helm?

 

      Kurwenal

The safest of seamen.

 

      Tristan

Might he betray us --

Could he be a man allied

To Melot?

 

      Kurwenal

Trust in him as in me!

 

      Tristan

And you, too, a traitor!

Wretched man!

Can you see her yet?

 

      Kurwenal

Not yet.

 

      Tristan

Lost?

 

      Kurwenal (joyfully)

Ahoy!  Ahoy!

Through!  Through!

Safely through!

 

      Tristan (filled with joy)

Kurwenal!  Ahoy!  Ahoy!

Most faithful of friends!

All my goods and possessions

I bequeath to you this day!

 

      Kurwenal

They are approaching at speed.

 

      Tristan

Can you see them at last?

Can you see sweet Isolde?

 

      Kurwenal

There she is!  She is waiving!

 

      Tristan

Oh, blessed woman!

 

      Kurwenal

The ship is in harbor!

Isolde - ahh!

With a single bound

She is leaping ashore!

 

      Tristan

Come down from the lookout post,

Idle gazer!

Down!  Down!

To the beach!

Help her!  Help my lady!

 

      Kurwenal

I will carry her up here!

Trust in my arms!

But you, Tristan,

Promise to remain on your couch.

 

                        Kurwenal hurries down the slope.

 

Crossmann looks into the audience.  He thinks he sees himself sleeping in his mezzanine seat.

 

            The curtain falls.

 

      The Magician

Come down from you lookout post,

Idle gazer!

She returns to you!

Your sweet Leslie --

Without her Mark.

You must go below

If you are to see her.

 

Crossmann slides down the castle wall.  He hurries to the couch.  He lies on the comfortable feather-bed, awaiting his love.  Kurwenal stands beside him.

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

      Tristan

Oh, this sun!

Ahh, this Day!

Ahh, the joy's

Sunniest day!

Coursing blood,

Rejoicing spirit!

Bliss beyond bounds,

Joyful delirium!

Confined to my bed,

How can I bear it!

Up, then, up and onwards

To where hearts are beating!

Tristan, the Hero,

Rejoicing in his strength

Has snatched himself back

From death.

 

                        He raises himself up.

 

With bleeding wound

I once battled with Morold;

With bleeding wound

I pursue now Isolde!

 

                        He tears the dressing from his wound.

 

Ahh, my blood!

Cheerily flow, my blood!

 

                        He leaps from his bed and staggers forward.

 

She who my wound

Will finally heal,

Like a hero approaches,

She approaches, my salvation!

Let the world perish

Before my rejoicing haste!

 

                        He staggers to the center fo the stage.

 

      Isolde (from offstage)

Tristan!  My beloved!

 

      Tristan (in extreme agitation)

What?  Is it the light I hear?

The torch, ahh!

The torch is extinguished!

To her!  To her!

 

                        Isolde enteres breathlessly.  Tristan, hardly conscious, totters toward her.

                        They meet in the center of the stage.  She takes him in her arms.  Tristan

                        slowly sinks to the ground in her arms.

 

      Isolde

Tristan!  Ha!

 

      Tristan (dying, looks up at her)

Isolde!

 

                        Tristan dies.

 

      Crossmann

And what is this?

Am I to die alone, with she

Not here!

She leaves me in this final act,

Sending some secondary figure

As her shadow.

A voice;

A figment;

A form.

Came she not here

To see me die.

An understudy's body I feel

As I fall.

 

      The Magician

She did not wish to witness

Your demise.

 

      Crossmann

She would not come

And die with me!

 

      The Magician

Death is not her greatest desire!

Life, instead, will bring you

To her.

 

Isolde

 

Ahh!  It is I!  It is I!

Sweetest beloved!

Up, just once more,

Listen to my call!

Isolde is calling:

Isolde has come

Faithfully to die with Tristan.

Will you not answer me?

Just for one hour;

Just for one hour,

Stay awake for me!

For so many anxious days

She kept watch, longing

To watch with you

For an hour.

Will Tristan

Deny Isolde

This single,

Eternally brief,

Final worldly joy?

The wound?  where is it?

Let me heal it!

Let us in untroubled bliss

Share the Night again!

Not from that wound,

Do not die from that wound.

Uniteus both,

Extinguish the light of life!

Dimmed your eyes!

Silent your heart!

Not a breath's

Gentle wafting!

Must she now in misery

Stand before you,

She who joyously, to marry you,

Bravely crossed the sea?

Too late!

Spiteful man!

Will you punish me thus

With this most harsh of sentences?

No consideration

Of my sorrow's debt?

Ma;y I not utter

My lament to you?

Just once, ahh!

Just once more!

Tistan!  Ahh!

Listen!  He is waking!

Beloved!

 

                        She collapses unconscious over the body.

 

                        Kurwenal comes in after Isolde: speechless and shocked, he has witnessed the

                        scene and stares at Tristan, motionless.  From below can be heard a dull

                        murmuring of weapons.  The shepherd comes climbing over the wall.  Shepherd

                        turns quickly and speaks quietly to Kurwenal.

 

      Shepherd

Kurwenal!  Listen!

A second ship!

 

                        Kurwenal hurries up the escarpment and looks below; the Sherpherd,

                        horrified, looks at Tristan and Isolde from a distance.

 

      Kurwenal (in an outbreak of rage)

Death and damnation!

To your posts!

I have made out

Mark and Melot!

Weapons and stones!

Help me!  To the gate!

 

                        Kurwenal hurries with the shepherd to the gate, which they barricade

                        hastily.

 

      The Helmsman (rushing in)

Mark is behind me

With armed men and people.

Resistance is useless!

We are overpowered.

 

      Kurwenal

Take up you post and help!

As long as I live

Nobody is going to spy on me

Here!

 

      Brangaene (from offstage)

Isolde!  My mistress!

 

      Kurwenal

Brangaene calling?

 

                        He calls down the slope:

 

What do you want here?

 

      Brangaene

Do not bar the gate, Kurwenal!

Where is Isolde?

 

      Kurwenal

You, too, a traitor?

Woe to you, villainous woman!

 

      Melot (from offstage)

Get back, you fool!

Do not resist!

 

      Kurwenal (laughing wildly)

Heyahahaha! the day

That I strike you down!

 

                        Melot, with armed men, appears below the gate.  Kurwenal attacks

                        him and drops him to the ground.

 

      Kurwenal

Die you shameful wretch!

 

      Melot

Alas, Tristan!

 

                        Melot does.

 

      Brangaene (still outside)

Kurwenal, are you mad?

Listen, you are betraying yourself!

 

      Kurwenal

Faithless maid!

 

                        To his men:

 

Come on, follow me!

Throw them back!

 

                        They fight.

 

      King Mark (outside)

Stop, you madman!

Have you lost your senses?

 

      Kurwenal

Here death rages!

Nothing else, King,

Is to be had here!

If that is what you want,

Come on!

 

                        He sents about Mark and his followers.

 

                        Mark appears under the gate with some men.

 

      King Mark

Get back, madman!

 

                        Brangaene climbs in over the wall and hurries forward.

 

      Brangaene

Isolde!  Mistress!

Joy and salvation!

What do I see?  Ahh!

Are you alive?  Isolde!

 

                        She tends to Isolde.  Mark and his men have driven

                        Kurwenal's followers b ack from the gate and force their way in.

 

      King Mark

Deceit and madness!

Tristan, where are you?

 

                        Kurwenal, badly wounded, staggers forward before Mark.

 

      Kurwenal

There he lies --

Here -- where I lie!

 

                        Kurwenal collapses at Tristan's feet.

 

      King Mark

Tristan! Tristan!

Isolde!  Alas!

 

      Kurwenal (grasping Tristan's hand)

Tristan!  Faithful friend!

Do not scoed me

If you faithful friend comes with you!

 

                        Kurwenal dies.

 

      King Mark

All dead then!

Everyone dead!

My hero, my Tristan!

Most faithful of friends,

Must you even today

Betray your friend?

Today, when he come

To avow to you his deepest faith?

Awake!  Awake!

Awake to my wailing!

 

                        Sobbing, King Mark bends over the bodies.

 

You faithless, most faithful of friends!

 

                        Brangaene brings Isolde to her sense in her arms.

 

      Brangaene

She wakes!  She is alive!

Isolde!  Listen to me,

Hear my repentence!

The draught's secret

I revealed to the King;

In anxious haste

He put out to sea

To reach you,

To renounce you,

To lead your beloved to you

 

      King Mark

Why, Isolde?

Why have you done this?

When it was clearly revealed to me

What I had not been able to comprehend,

How happy I was that I found

My friend free of guilt.

To wed you to

This glorious man

With full sail

I flew after you.

But misfortune's

Impetuous haste,

How can the bringer of peace control it?

I increased the harvest of Death,

Madness added yet more distress.

 

      Brangaene

Can you not hear us?

Isolde!  Dearest!

Can you not hear your faithful Brangaene?

 

                        Isolde, aware of nothing round about her, fixes her gaze with

                        mounting ecstasy upon Tristan's body.

 

      Isolde

How softly and gently

He smiles,

How sweetly

His eyes open --

Can you see, my friends,

Do you not see it?

How he glows

Ever brighter,

Raising himself high

Amidst the stars?

Do you not see it?

How his heart

Swells with courage,

Gushing full and majestic

In his breast?

How in tender bliss

Sweet breath

Gently wafts

From his lips --

Friends!  Look!

Do you not feel and see it?

Do I alone hear

This melody

So wondrously

And gently

Sounding from within him,

In bliss lamenting,

All-expressing,

Gently reconciling,

Piercing me,

Soaring aloft,

Its sweet echoes

Resounding about me?

Are they gentle

Aerial waves

Ringing out clearly,

Slurging around me?

Are they billows

Of flissful fragrance?

As they seethe

And roar about me,

Shall I breathe,

Shall I give ear?

Shall I drink of them,

Plunge beneath them?

Breathe my life away

In sweet scents?

In the heaving swell,

In the resounding echoes,

In the universal stream

Of the world-breath --

To drown,

To founder --

Unconscious --

Utmost rapture!

 

                        Isolde sinks gently, as if transfigured, in Brangaene's arms, on to

                        Tristan's body.  Isolde died.  Those standing around are awed

                        and deeply moved.  King Mark blesses the bodies.

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

The curtain rises.  The lights come up.

      The audience is rising.  Applause comes raining down from the sky.

      Crossmann bows, with the other singers.

      He looks up into the crowd.  Again, in the mezzanine, someone looking like himself, seating near a fat woman and her husband, is a man who looks like Crossmann.

      Crossmann smiles at the Magician, dressed as Melot, who is smiling brightly, taking his bow.

      But Isolde is being played by an understudy; also, King Mark is no longer being played by Don Rhodes.  They have gone off together somewhere.

      Crossmann needs to get to the escalator.  He knows this.

      But the audience is cheering wildly.

      Crossmann is being asked to take a bow.

      He steps forward; and he bows.

      A young girl, a pretty girl, about eight-years old, who looks much like Leslie Rhodes, brings him a bouquet of flowers.  Red roses.

      "Thank you, dear," Crossmann says, taking the flowers.

      He thinks: she is one of Leslie's daughters.  But perhaps that is just an illusion.

      Red roses, perhaps from Leslie.

      Crossmann leans down, kissing her on the forehead.

      More applause.

      The woman playing Isolde steps forward to take a bow.

      More flowers. 

      Another bright flower girl.

      I can't stay here.  I've got to get out of here.

      The curtain comes down.

 

Crossmann is gone, darting, with his flowers, off-stage to his left, looking again for the elevator.  He has to climb over discarded costumes, over garden set.  The curtain is rising again behind him.  He hears the mechanical lift exhale.  The audience increases its noise.

      Crossmann pushes the UP button.

      The door oopens.

      He is inside.  Buttons: 1, 2, 3.

      He pushes button 1.

      The door closes.

      He begins to ascend.  The elevator stops abruptly.

      Stops.

      Crossmann sets down his flowers.  He digs in his pockets.  He has a pistol; and also the Key to the City.

      He uses the key to pry open the elevator doors.

      He is in-between floors.

      He rings the elevator bell.  There is a phone in the elevator.  He picks it up.  No one answers it.  Then a message comes on: "Hello.  You have reached the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City.  We are currently performing, as part of our Millenium Celebration Series, the following operas: 'Faust,' by Charles Gouonod; 'Tristan and Isolde,' by Richard Wagner, 'Julius Caesar,' by Friedrich Handel, and 'Fidelio,' by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.  Tickets are going briskly.  If you would like to contact our ticket office, please press number one.  If you would like to contact our publicity office for details about touring the Met, please press 2.  If you are currently trapped in one of our elevators, please press number 3.  However, if you press number 3 during the following hours -- 9:00 pm to 8:00 AM and 11:00 AM and 2:00 PM -- you will not receive aid until the janitorial staff returns to duty.  There are blankets and pillows stored in the panel to the left of the telephone in case of such emergencies.  We recommend you make yourself comfortable and get some rest.  You will be rescued as soon as the janitorial staff returns and registers your call of distress...."

      Crossmann hangs up the phone.

      He puts the Key to the City back in his pocket.

      He has seen many movies in which elevator imprisonment is stifled by the hero who climbs through the safety door in the elevator ceiling.

      Crossmann places the bouquet of roses in his mouth, taking care to avoid the thorns as he bites gently into the cloth-wrapped stems.  He wants to give the flowers to Leslie when he next sees her.  He uses both hands to pull himself up toward the ceiling, putting his feet on the railing and boosting himself up.  He pushes open the safety door; and he rises up through the top of the car, pushing the lid off to the side, scrambling up in to the black elevator shaft, a dark celebration of mechanical technology: chains and levers; wheels of steel.

      A few feet above the elevator car is the next floor -- and there are several floors above this.

      He has to re-arrange the flower in his mouth because he has been wounded twice, one in each lip: thorn penetration.  Both wounds are bleeding. 

      He shifts the bouquet in his mouth again, biting down on the stems until he feels no pain.  Then he grasps a chain above the elevator car and pulls himself up to the next series of steel beams.  This is not so hard -- although he does dirty his hands with grease from the chain.  Then he walks the girders to the closed elevator door on what Crossmann thought was the third floor.  But he sees other doors still above this.

      It will not be easy to pry the door open.  There is nothing on which to stand in front of the door to get leverage.  Again, he will have to swing forward on a chain, using one hand to sustain himself on the chain and the other hand to abuse the door with his pass key.

      Also, it is very dark. 

      Somehow, magically, Crossmann's new glasses seem to illuminate the darkness.  Whatever object Crossmann views through the glasses seems to generate its only light, helping him to see it.  It is all very mysterious to Crossmann.

      He takes the chain in his left hand, pressing it against his body, between his legs-- the bouquet still in his mouth -- and swings over the void above the stalled elevator car, thrusting his feet on to a narrow ledge at the bottom of the closed door.  He releases some of the tension on the chain, so he can stand against the door and not swing back over the void.  He uses his large key to pry open the heavy metal doors.  The doors swing open.  Crossmann steps into the light.

      The left side of his body is covered with mechanical grease, as are both of his hands.  There also is some grease staining the left side of his face.

 

Crossmann finds himself, again, in the backstage of a theatre.  He looks around: ropes and pulleys; a series of curtains.  Actors dressed in classical Roman costumes.  Martin Scorcese hurries up to Crossmann. 

      "Where the hell have you been," Scorcese asks, speaking wildly.  "We're ready to start; and look at you -- where'd you get all this grease?  You gotta get out of this puffy shirt.  It looks like some 'low-talkers' puffy shirt worn by poofters and bad comics and Errol Flynn wannabes...."

      Scorcese turns to two stage-hands, motioning to the shirt.

      "Remember the 'puffy shirt' episode on Seinfeld?" he asks, laughing.

      The stage-hands shake their heads in the affirmative, laughing.

      Crossmann laughs with Scorcese.

      "They must have got a deal on puffy shirts from the Seinfield set," Crossmann says.

      "Undoubtedly," Scorcese agrees.  "Jesus, what is that?  Is that a codpiece under there?  What have your got in your trousers -- beside a massive Mister Codpiece...?"

      Scorcese pulls the pistol out of Crossmann's pocket.  "You're not gonna need this in here," he says.  "What are you carrying this around for?  Are you in trouble?  If you're in trouble, I can help you.  I've got some friends in the police department.  I've got some friends outside of the police department too -- but we won't get into that.  Quick, get out of those clothes.  Marge, help him get into his costume.  And wash his face too.  He can't be an emperor and have a cat's-tail of grease all the way down his body..."

      Crossmann, with the help of Marge, undresses, putting on a suit of armor and a sword.

      "Is this The Rings we're doing?" Crossmann asks.  "Am I one of the Valkyrie...?"

      Scorcese laughs: "Listen, JC, you let me be the funny man -- ok?  That was in  your contract -- no jokes -- don't you remember that being in your contract?  You've got a couple of ringers out there, by the way, who you got to handle -- I said ringers, not rings.  And let me warn you -- at least one of them is carrying a sharp knife.  You may not know who it is.  If you read the play, then you're probably going to know.  I don't know if you've read the play.  I assume you have.  You're a literary guy.  You're a great writer, right? -- no one knows that better than I do.  So I'm assuming you know the play.  But you don't know this play -- that's what I'm saying.  Because this play is like something, like another play, a play you probably know -- but that doesn't mean you know this play, this opera, which isn't really an opera, but is like an opera, a kind of rock opera, I guess.  Because this play is not the play you may know -- and which I think you do know.  I mean, it is -- and it is not.  At the same time.  It's, what shall we call it, it's alive.  It's sort of like the tv show 'The Survivor' -- we're not sure where it's going to go.  But, what I do know is that at least one person in this cast has a knife.  And I know that more than one person, many people, in fact, might be armed.  But you can't take your pistol out on that stage -- that is in the contract you signed -- or, the one that I signed for you, the one you authorized me to sign for you. No, so that's not allowed.  But you do have your sword; and you have your suit of armor.  I think this will be fun.  We're just about to start.  You're not on yet.  I'll give you the signal when you enter the scene...."

      Crossmann dons a suit Roman warrior armor.

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

                        Rome. A street.

 

                        Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners.

 

      Flavius

Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:

Is this a holiday? what! know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk

Upon a labouring day without the sign

Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

 

      First Commoner

Why, sir, a carpenter.

 

      Marullus

Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?

You, sir, what trade are you?

 

      Second Commoner

Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but,

as you would say, a cobbler.

 

      Marullus

But what trade art thou? answer me directly.

 

      Second Commoner

A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe

conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

 

      Marullus

What trade, thou knave?

Thou naughty knave, what trade?

 

      Second Commoner

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,

if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

 

      Marullus

What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!

 

      Second Commoner

Why, sir, cobble you.

 

      Flavius

Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

 

      Second Commoner

Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I

meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's

matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon

to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I

recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon

neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.

 

      Flavius

But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

 

      Second Commoner

Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself

into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday,

to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph.

 

      Marullus

Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,

Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft

Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,

To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,

Your infants in your arms, and there have sat

The livelong day, with patient expectation,

To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:

And when you saw his chariot but appear,

Have you not made an universal shout,

That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,

To hear the replication of your sounds

Made in her concave shores?

And do you now put on your best attire?

And do you now cull out a holiday?

And do you now strew flowers in his way

That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone!

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,

Pray to the gods to intermit the plague

That needs must light on this ingratitude.

 

      Flavius

Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,

Assemble all the poor men of your sort;

Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears

Into the channel, till the lowest stream

Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

 

                         Exeunt all the Commoners

 

See whether their basest metal be not moved;

They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.

Go you down that way towards the Capitol;

This way will I  disrobe the images,

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

 

      Marullus

May we do so?

You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

 

      Flavius

It is no matter; let no images

Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about,

And drive away the vulgar from the streets:

So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

 

                         Exeunt

 

                        The curtain falls.

      Crossmann

Why am I here,

In this Roman conception?

This is not my milieu.

This flush for power

Alleviates not my thirsting

Nature.

 

      William Crossmann

This is where you belong!

This is where your quest

Demands you must be!

 

      The Magician

Note: love follows power, friend!

Who could not love the man

Who rules the world?

 

      Crossmann

Leslie is not here!

I know this play!

I am seeking 'Fidelio'.

 

      The Magician

Here you have the wife

Who can bear you

No children!

 

      Crossmann

A dried-up fig:

Malturnia!

 

      William Crossmann

Your obsession with Roman America

Brings you here!

You desired this slavic allegiance;

Now you walk in steps you've

Delivered in threes!

 

Scorcese signals to Crossmann: "Get ready...!"

 

                        The curtain rises

 

                        A public place.

 

                        Flourish. Enter Crossman as Julius Caesar; Antony, for the

                        course; Calpurnia, Portia, Decius Brutus, Cicero, Brutus,

                        Cassius, and Casca; a great crowd following, among them

                        a Soothsayer.

 

       Caesar (Crossmann)

Calpurnia!

 

      Casca

Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

 

      Caaesar

Calpurnia!

 

      Calpurnia

Here, my lord.

 

      Caesar

Stand you directly in Antonius' way,

When he doth run his course. Antonius!

 

      Antony

Caesar, my lord?

 

      Caesar

Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,

To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,

The barren, touched in this holy chase,

Shake off their sterile curse.

 

      Antony

I shall remember:

When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd.

 

      Caesar

Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

 

                        Flourish

 

      Soothsayer

Caesar!

 

      Caesar

Ha! who calls?

 

      Casca

Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!

 

      Caesar

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,

Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

 

      Soothsayer

Beware the ides of March.

 

      Caesar

What man is that?

 

      Brutus

A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

 

      Caesar

Set him before me; let me see his face.

 

      Cassius

Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

 

      Caesar

What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

 

      Soothsayer

Beware the brides of Mars.

Er, the ides of March.

 

      Caesar

Is he drunk -- the brides of Mars?      

He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.

 

                        Sennet. Exeunt all except BRUTUS and CASSIUS.  Crossmann

                        watches the play from the wings.

 

      Crossmann

Methinks I recognize these two:

Cassius and Brutus.

Allies once, in democratic urge.

Cassius is Gore; Brutus is Bush.

 

      The Magician

A keen eye you have for the face;

Or is it the tone of voice you see?

Not that tones can be seen

Any more than tenses can be

Tasted.

Senses deceive; even my reason

Unfolds damaged

Before thee!

A keen eye;

And a keen ear!

And blood on both lips from a wound or two!

 

      Crossmann

What does this mean?

 

      The Magician

Listen; and learn!

And wipe your lips on your hand.

They are bleeding.

 

      Cassius

Will you go see the order of the course?

 

      Brutus

Not I.

 

      Cassius

I pray you, do.

 

      Brutus

I am not gamesome: I do lack some part

Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;

I'll leave you.

 

      Cassius

Brutus, I do observe you now of late:

I have not from your eyes that gentleness

And show of love as I was wont to have:

You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand

Over your friend that loves you.

 

      Brutus

Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors;

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved--

Among which number, Cassius, be you one--

Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

 

      Cassius

Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

 

      Brutus

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,

But by reflection, by some other things.

 

      Cassius

'Tis just:

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn

Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard,

Where many of the best respect in Rome,

Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus

And groaning underneath this age's yoke,

Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

 

      Brutus

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

 

      Cassius

Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:

And since you know you cannot see yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.

And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:

Were I a common laugher, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths my love

To every new protester; if you know

That I do fawn on men and hug them hard

And after scandal them, or if you know

That I profess myself in banqueting

To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

 

                         Flourish, and shout.

 

      Brutus

What means this shouting? I do fear, the people

Choose Caesar for their king.

 

      Cassius

Ay, do you fear it?

Then must I think you would not have it so.

 

      Brutus

I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honour in one eye and death i' the other,

And I will look on both indifferently,

For let the gods so speed me as I love

The name of honour more than I fear death.

 

      Cassius

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,

As well as I do know your outward favour.

Well, honour is the subject of my story.

I cannot tell what you and other men

Think of this life; but, for my single self,

I had as lief not be as live to be

In awe of such a thing as I myself.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you:

We both have fed as well, and we can both

Endure the winter's cold as well as he:

For once, upon a raw and gusty day,

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,

Caesar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now

Leap in with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word,

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in

And bade him follow; so indeed he did.

The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside

And stemming it with hearts of controversy;

But ere we could arrive the point proposed,

Caesar cried 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber

Did I the tired Caesar. And this man

Is now become a god, and Cassius is

A wretched creature and must bend his body,

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And when the fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake;

His coward lips did from their colour fly,

And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world

Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:

Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans

Mark him and write his speeches in their books,

Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,'

As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me

A man of such a feeble temper should

So get the start of the majestic world

And bear the palm alone.

 

                        Shout. Flourish

 

      Crossmann

They seem to speak like traitors, then!

Like men who fear the public's weal

Unless the public's flat appeal

Is to them and them alone!

To this merchantile aristocracy!

 

      The Magician

They fear your popularity;

They fear your claim to godhood too --

That common men do not

Disclaim!

They mean to soil your character;

They'll use the press to drag

You down!

Listen!

 

Crossmann and the Magician are in a second-

story window looking down on the Roman

street.

 

      Brutus

Another general shout!

I do believe that these applauses are

For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.

 

      Cassius

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that 'Caesar'?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

 Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,

Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome,

That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed and room enough,

When there is in it but one only man.

O, you and I have heard our fathers say,

There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd

The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.

 

      Brutus

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;

What you would work me to, I have some aim:

How I have thought of this and of these times,

I shall recount hereafter; for this present,

I would not, so with love I might entreat you,

Be any further moved. What you have said

I will consider; what you have to say

I will with patience hear, and find a time

Both meet to hear and answer such high things.

Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:

Brutus had rather be a villager

Than to repute himself a son of Rome

Under these hard conditions as this time

Is like to lay upon us.

 

      Cassius

I am glad that my weak words

Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

 

      Brutus

The games are done and Caesar is returning.

 

      Cassius

As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve;

And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you

What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.

 

                        Re-enter Crossmann as CAESAR and his Train

 

      Brutus

I will do so. But, look you, Cassius,

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,

And all the rest look like a chidden train:

Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero

Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes

As we have seen him in the Capitol,

Being cross'd in conference by some senators.

 

      Cassius

Casca will tell us what the matter is.

 

      Caesar

Antonius!

 

      Antony

Caesar?

 

      Caesar

Let me have men about me that are fat;

Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights:

'Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;

He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

 

      Antony

Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous;

He is a noble Roman and well given.

 

      Caesar

Would that he were fatter! But I fear him not:

Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid

So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;

He is a great observer and he looks

Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,

As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort

As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit

That could be moved to smile at any thing.

Such men as he be never at heart's ease

Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,

And therefore are they very dangerous.

I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd

Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.

Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,

And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

 

                        Sennet. Exit Caesar and all his Train, but Casca. 

 

      Casca

You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me?

 

      Brutus

Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day,

That Caesar looks so sad.

 

      Casca

Why, you were with him, were you not?

 

      Brutus

I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.

 

      Casca

Why, there was a crown offered him: and being

offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand,

thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.

 

      Brutus

What was the second noise for?

 

      Casca

Why, for that too.

 

      Cassius

They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?

 

      Casca

Why, for that too.

 

      Brutus

Was the crown offered him thrice?

 

      Casca

Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every

time gentler than other, and at every putting-by

mine honest neighbours shouted.

 

      Cassius

Who offered him the crown?

 

      Casca

Why, Antony.

 

      Brutus

Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

 

      Casca

I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it:

 

      Crossmann

I see my reputation precedes me!

 

      The Magician

Three more dancing on the end

Of a rope

Gives to this play

Some symmetry!

 

 

it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark

Antony offer him a crown;--yet 'twas not a crown

neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told

you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my

thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he

offered it to him again; then he put it by again:

but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his

fingers off it. And then he offered it the third

time; he put it the third time by: and still as he

refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their

chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps

and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because

Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked

Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and

for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of

opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

 

      Cassius

But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound?

 

      Casca

He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at

mouth, and was speechless.

 

      Brutus

'Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness.

 

      Crossmann

I did not eat an egg in the morning!

It is not a failing sickness

But an ague, I say!

 

      Cassius'

No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I,

And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.

 

      Casca

I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure,

Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not

clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and

displeased them, as they use to do the players in

the theatre, I am no true man.

 

      Brutus

What said he when he came unto himself?

 

      Casca

Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the

common herd was glad he refused the crown, he

plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his

throat to cut. An I had been a man of any

occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word,

I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so

he fell. When he came to himself again, he said,

If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired

their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three

or four wenches, where I stood, cried 'Alas, good

soul!' and forgave him with all their hearts: but

there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had

stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.

 

      Brutus

And after that, he came, thus sad, away?

 

      Casca

 Ay.

 

      Cassius

Did Cicero say any thing?

 

      Casca

 Ay, he spoke Greek.

 

      Cassius

To what effect?

 

      Casca

Nay, and I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the

face again: but those that understood him smiled at

one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own

part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more

news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs

off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you

well. There was more foolery yet, if I could

remember it.

 

      Cassius

Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?

 

      Casca

No, I am promised forth.

 

      Cassius

Will you dine with me to-morrow?

 

      Casca

Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner

be worth the eating.

 

      Cassius

Good: I will expect you.

 

      Casca

Do so. Farewell, both.

 

                        Exit Casca

 

      Crossmann

Ahh, Cassius is a brute;

And Brutus a man of clay!

But Casca is a blunt little fruit;

A man for whom the night is day.

 

      The Magician

What a fine blunt image:

He shall pay for his play!

 

      Brutus

What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!

He was quick mettle when he went to school.

 

      Cassius

So is he now in execution

Of any bold or noble enterprise,

However he puts on this tardy form.

This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,

Which gives men stomach to digest his words

With better appetite.

 

      Brutus

And so it is. For this time I will leave you:

To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,

I will come home to you; or, if you will,

Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

 

      Cassius

I will do so: till then, think of the world.

 

                        Exit Brutus

 

Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see,

Thy honourable metal may be wrought

From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet

That noble minds keep ever with their likes;

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus:

If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius,

He should not humour me. I will this night,

In several hands, in at his windows throw,

As if they came from several citizens,

Writings all tending to the great opinion

That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely

Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at:

And after this let Caesar seat him sure;

For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

 

                        Exit Cassius

 

                        Curtain Falls.

 

      Crossmann

They plot against the outside man,

The one for whom no base is made!

They plot against the underdog

Who touches Rome with only

Words!

 

      The Magician

The words of God's anointed craft

Makes tremblers shake and shakers

Roil!

It is not words make thee them dread;

It is your claim that Michael's head

You wear!

 

      Crossmann

They ready a cross, a tree for hanging,

Either for me

Or for the three!

 

      The Magician

Remember the game they play

Is free!

Diminish your name;

And make the populace complain!

Then a knife in the ribs for thee!

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

                        The same  street.

 

                        Thunder and lightning.

                        Enter from opposite sides, Casca, with his sword drawn, and Cicero.

     

      Cicero

Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home?

Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?

 

      Casca

Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth

Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,

I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds

Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen

The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam,

To be exalted with the threatening clouds:

But never till to-night, never till now,

Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.

Either there is a civil strife in heaven,

Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,

Incenses them to send destruction.

 

      Cicero

Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

 

      Casca

A common slave--you know him well by sight--

Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn

Like twenty torches join'd; and yet his hand,

Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.

 

      Crossmann

You've been loose on the streets

Of Rome again, I see!

 

      The Magician

Like a long-necked goose

Armed with flames from

The long-necked Chantilly!

 

Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword--

Against the Capitol I met a lion,

Who glared upon me, and went surly by,

Without annoying me: and there were drawn

Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women,

Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw

Men all in fire walk up and down the streets.

And yesterday the bird of night did sit

Even at noon-day upon the market-place,

Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies

Do so conjointly meet, let not men say

'These are their reasons; they are natural;'

For, I believe, they are portentous things

§Unto the climate that they point upon.

 

      Cicero

Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time:

But men may construe things after their fashion,

Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.

Come Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow?

 

      Casca

He doth; for he did bid Antonius

Send word to you he would be there to-morrow.

 

      Cicero

Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky

Is not to walk in.

 

      Casca

Farewell, Cicero.

 

                        Exit Cicero

 

                        Enter Cassius

 

      Cassius

Who's there?

 

      Casca

A Roman.

 

      Cassius

Casca, by your voice.

 

      Casca

Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this!

 

      Cassius

A very pleasing night to honest men.

 

      Crossmann

To thee it must be freezing, indeed!

 

      Casca

Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

 

      Cassius

Those that have known the earth so full of faults.

For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,

Submitting me unto the perilous night,

And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,

Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone;

And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open

The breast of heaven, I did present myself

Even in the aim and very flash of it.

 

      Crossmann

The treacherous fire cannot burn

Itself so!

Burn the devil's bones and find

The devil's bones are multiplied!

 

      Casca

But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?

It is the part of men to fear and tremble,

When the most mighty gods by tokens send

Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

 

      Cassius

You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life

That should be in a Roman you do want,

Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze

And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder,

To see the strange impatience of the heavens:

But if you would consider the true cause

Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,

Why birds and beasts from quality and kind,

Why old men fool and children calculate,

Why all these things change from their ordinance

Their natures and preformed faculties

To monstrous quality,--why, you shall find

That heaven hath infused them with these spirits,

To make them instruments of fear and warning

Unto some monstrous state.

Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man

Most like this dreadful night,

That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars

As doth the lion in the Capitol,

A man no mightier than thyself or me

In personal action, yet prodigious grown

And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

 

      Casca

 'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius?

 

      Cassius

Let it be who it is: for Romans now

Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors;

But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,

And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;

Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

 

      Crossmann

Clearly womanish in beliefs,

This man-child argues the thief

Expropriates unfair labor!

Sad victim!

 

      Casca

Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow

Mean to establish Caesar as a king;

And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,

In every place, save here in Italy.

 

      Crossmann

Washington's managed grief

Excluded fiefdom's reign

In this land!

No king shall be

Named George nor Geronimo!

 

      The Magician

And what of Michael's name?

 

      Crossmann

God has names and naming patrons!

None for me a desire to rule!

 

      The Magician

That is not an answer!

This makes me believe

A politician in you

Is hiding!

And bleeding, in two tiny drops!

 

      Cassius

I know where I will wear this dagger then;

Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:

Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;

Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:

Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,

Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,

Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;

But life, being weary of these worldly bars,

Never lacks power to dismiss itself.

If I know this, know all the world besides,

That part of tyranny that I do bear

I can shake off at pleasure.

 

      Casca

So can I:

So every bondman in his own hand bears

The power to cancel his captivity.

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

He has the autocrat's eye, you see!

He has that hungry look!

He seeks to shake democracy

Unto a veiled theocracy!

He courts religious rightists' vote;

And promises them the thingmote

Of vengeance!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

He seems to me a man of words!

And nothing more!

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

Ezra Pound was also one!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

Who is this Ezra Pound?

Did he once rule an empire then...?

My knowlege of history is not

What it should be.

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

No.  But he courted empire's

Fascist name --

He sought the Roman soul's

Re-birth,

As Hitler's phalanx in Rome

Sought expansion.

Crossmann has a hungry

Demeanor.

Nothing will stop him

In his quest for the throne!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

This God-believing man proceeds

From one who once from red

Has changed!

White to red and back again.

Is this his sin -- that, to me,

You'd denounce him?

 

I have no doubt he has appeal

From right and left and in-between --

The man portrays himself as friend

To heritage of American men.

The Founding Fathers he invokes

As leaders' words he mostly quotes!

He honors Lincoln as a peer;

Your claim he's foreign

I find most queer.

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

Believe me when I say to you

That you are greater by far

Than he!

And I would sooner have you be king --

That is, to govern our world

So stable and known!

A third-party poll shall threaten

Us both;

Our great families' rule

Can only be troubled

By too much craft,

By too much troth.

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

A revolutionary, then?

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

Yes!  And the worse kind!

The one who hears voices

Directly from Darkness..!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

Witchcraft, you say!

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

Yes.  Clearly, it's so.

This man hates cash!

He seeks power to abuse power...!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

Worse than Nader, then?

He hates the corporate?

He hates the body?

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

Far worse!

Nader obviates class!

Crossmann obviates modernity!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

Obviates what?

Do you mean he undermines progress?

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

Precisely!

He is an anachronism!

He believes himself a prophet

From the Jewish land of signs!

He  believes himself a bibilical

Figure!

A kind of Moses!

A kind of Christ!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

Is the man mad then?

Is the man just close to his God?

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

                                                (aside)

Are these two not the same then?

                                                (to Bush)

Madness, George!

Madness!  I have it on grave authority!

Doctor Brothers, herself, has

Written it so!

 

      George W. Bush (offstage)

Say no more, Albert!

Say no more!

 

      Albert Gore (aside, offstage)

Vanity works on some;

And sincerity makes others believe!

On some, indeed, fear is the best!

While, for others,  but a reference

To a higher source sways.

To a higher or to a lower source,

Depending upon one's wit.

I can manage that fool

Like a man does a puppet.

As a president he shall falter and flip.

The public shall shout

To have their plastic man back.

 

                        Thunder still

 

      Cassius

And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?

Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,

But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:

He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.

Those that with haste will make a mighty fire

Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,

What rubbish and what offal, when it serves

For the base matter to illuminate

So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief,

Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this

Before a willing bondman; then I know

My answer must be made. But I am arm'd,

And dangers are to me indifferent.

 

      Casca

You speak to Casca, and to such a man

That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand:

Be factious for redress of all these griefs,

And I will set this foot of mine as far

As who goes farthest.

 

      Cassius

There's a bargain made.

Now know you, Casca, I have moved already

Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans

To undergo with me an enterprise

Of honourable-dangerous consequence;

And I do know, by this, they stay for me

In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night,

There is no stir or walking in the streets;

And the complexion of the element

In favour's like the work we have in hand,

Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

 

Crossmann watches Cassius's manservant,

a bald-headed man, rattle a metal sheet,

simulating thunder.

 

      Casca

Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

 

      Cassius

'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;

He is a friend.

 

                        Enter Cinna

 

Cinna, where haste you so?

 

      Cinna

To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

 

      Cassius

No, it is Casca; one incorporate

To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

 

      Cinna

I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!

There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.

 

      Cassius

Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

 

      Cinna

Yes, you are.

O Cassius, if you could

But win the noble Brutus to our party--

 

      Cassius

Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper,

And look you lay it in the praetor's chair,

Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this

In at his window; set this up with wax

Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,

Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.

Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

 

      Crossmann

Pack of thieves!

My gun!  Where is my gun!

 

      The Magician

The gun will not help you here!

You have your sword

For self-protection!

You have your wit!

And your key

Which unlocks worlds!

The elevator can free you!

 

      Crossmann

Is this no more than a bad dream

Then?

I feel to wake will free me

From demons!

 

      The Magician

Wake when you will;

And see if it makes you free!

But do not forget the key!

For the key allows all rooms

To be your own!

 

 

      Cinna

All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone

To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,

And so bestow these papers as you bade me.

 

      Cassius

That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

 

                        Exit Cinna

 

Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day

See Brutus at his house: three parts of him

Is ours already, and the man entire

Upon the next encounter yields him ours.

 

      Casca

O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:

And that which would appear offence in us,

His countenance, like richest alchemy,

Will change to virtue and to worthiness.

 

      Cassius

Him and his worth and our great need of him

You have right well conceited. Let us go,

For it is after midnight; and ere day

We will awake him and be sure of him.

 

                        Exit Casca and Cassius.

 

                        The curtain falls.

 

      Crossmann

So many arrive now

To join the society of Greeks:

Star-gazers and aluminum-siding

Salesmen; 

Noblemen, and those pretending to be:

Cheek-to-cheek,

Dancing for gain:

Queer, straight and bent

And blown.

 

The sons of the rich

In their contumely aristocracy

Of noble air

And fatted anima --

Speaking family and nation;

And clericalizing the invidious

Heritage of opprobrium --

Known better by its

Secular name:

The privileged life.

 

They gather like bees at the

Consumption of sweets;

Like carrion at a festering

Ganglia exposed.

Is there no discussion here

Of Chance?

Of History's naked glance

As the turning wheel

Churns up a pattern

Of filial abbreviation...?

 

The archetype builds a giant's form,

Which scales through Spengler's mint,

Achieving a microcosm's formal alarm

In Vico's hint of four

Projectile seasons

Of dusky harm.

 

I speak ideas only;

They speak of murder!

 

      The Magician

You bite the hand

That feeds at the trough!

 

      Crossmann

Animating me!

You animate my teeth,

I believe!

 

      The Magician

But you are trapped here

In a classic text!

You do not lead a revolt

Simply by presenting

Yourself in Caesar's guise!

The text is the thing, my friend!

The text needs replacement!

 

      Crossmann

This thing cannot be broken!

 

      The Magician

Thingmote!  Thingmote!

 

      Crossmann

I prepare to leave...!

 

      The Magician

Clearly so, if you've read the play!

 

      Crossmann

Jokes the comedian makes

Form sobriety's fashionable

Name plate and death mask!

I know less and less

About these Romans...!

 

      The Magician

Not so deprived, dear one!

Not so much fear!

It is a play!

A phantom, as they say!

Blink your eyes and it is gone!

 

      Crossmann

Is it so?

 

      The Magician

The elevator is the key!

The key, too, is the elevator!

 

      Crossmann

But the elevator is broken!

 

      The Magician

One is broken; two are not!

There is a private lift on the north side

Of this floor.

But you have the key

Giving you access to each.

Do you still have the roses?

 

The Magician wipes the blood from

Crossmann's lip with his handkerchief.

 

A noble gesture!

Are you in this scene?

 

      Crossmann

I don't believe I am!

And Leslie is not!

Whose joke is this?

Are your glasses provoking?

Did I sign you as a manager

To lead me in to shame

And danger -- and out of love...?

 

      The Magician

No, indeed!

But better she is not here!

No sunny day for the ungay

Calpurnia --

Riddled by unfertile holes

In her brain!

This is not your last stop, friend!

This is your chance to catch

A cat nap, instead!

When you awaken,

Sinister forces are found!

Dream edifices!

Dream impediments!

 

It is not your lover who wears

Your wife's lacy things.

It is your wife, instead,

Who wears your lover's

Face for kings.

 

                        Enter Irene Crossmann dressed

                        as Calpurnia.

 

      Irene Crossmann

It is not my egg which cannot nestle;

Your seed is a worm,

And not a comet from the gods.

DNA has told us this.

So, when you send Antony running,

To the gods to grace the barren,

Remember for yourself he must pray

And not for me.

 

                        Enter William Crossmann dressed

                        as Antony.

 

      William Crossman

Did I hear the word to kill or be killed?

Did I hear the word that a child wades

Through filters.

 

      Irene Crossmann (to William)

Parasite!

 

      William Crossmann (to Irene)

Harpy!  Usurper!  Transvestite!

 

      Irene Crossmann (to William)

Your brother has need of his horns!

He believes he is playing a deer afterall!

Dear Caesar, guardian of nations!

Michael's own dream-ambitious shadow

Fallen down!

Tell him his daughter is not his --

But another man's!

 

                        The curtain rises.

 

                        Rome. BRUTUS's orchard.

 

                        Enter Brutus.

 

      Brutus

What, Lucius, ho!

I cannot, by the progress of the stars,

Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say!

I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.

When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius!

 

                        Enter Lucius

 

      Lucius

Call'd you, my lord?

 

      Brutus

Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:

When it is lighted, come and call me here.

 

      Lucius

 I will, my lord.

 

                        Exit Lucius.

 

      Brutus:

It must be by his death: and for my part,

I know no personal cause to spurn at him,

But for the general. He would be crown'd:

How that might change his nature, there's the question.

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;

And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;--

And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,

That at his will he may do danger with.

The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins

Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar,

I have not known when his affections sway'd

More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,

Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;

 

      Crossmann

Lowliness is also, in fact,

Old ambition's saeculorum.

 

Crossmann wipes the blood from his lips on the

back of his hand.

 

But when he once attains the upmost round.

He then unto the ladder turns his back,

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees

By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.

 

      Crossmann

Not I!  Tell us not this lie!

 

                        aside

 

It seems to me the man speaks

Metaphysics.

We could be friends over tea

If the world was more calm

Perhaps. 

Less mischievous than it is.

 

Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel

Will bear no colour for the thing he is,

Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,

Would run to these and these extremities:

And therefore think him as a serpent's egg

Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,

And kill him in the shell.

 

                        Re-enter Lucius.

 

      Lucius

The taper burneth in your closet, sir.

Searching the window for a flint, I found

This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure,

It did not lie there when I went to bed.

               

                        Gives him the letter.

 

      Brutus

Get you to bed again; it is not day.

Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?

 

      Lucius

I know not, sir.

 

      Brutus

Look in the calendar, and bring me word.

 

      Lucius

I will, sir.

 

                        Exit Lucius

 

      Brutus

The exhalations whizzing in the air

Give so much light that I may read by them.

 

                        Opens the letter and reads.

 

'Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself.

Shall Rome, & c. Speak, strike, redress!

Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!'

Such instigations have been often dropp'd

Where I have took them up.

'Shall Rome, & c.' Thus must I piece it out:

Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome?

My ancestors did from the streets of Rome

The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.

'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated

To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise:

 If the redress will follow, thou receivest

 Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

 

                        Re-enter Lucius

 

      Lucius

Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

 

                        Knocking within.

 

      Brutus

'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks.

 

                        Exit Lucius

 

Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,

I have not slept.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing

And the first motion, all the interim is

Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:

The Genius and the mortal instruments

Are then in council; and the state of man,

Like to a little kingdom, suffers then

The nature of an insurrection.

 

                        Re-enter LUCIUS

 

      Lucius

Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,

Who doth desire to see you.

 

      Brutus

Is he alone?

 

      Lucius

No, sir, there are moe with him.

 

      Brutus

Do you know them?

 

      Lucius

No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears,

And half their faces buried in their cloaks,

That by no means I may discover them

By any mark of favour.

 

      Crossmann

The gang is the thing, dear Lucius!

Bloods or Crips -- they are no less rude!

They come to counsel the murder

Of a man!

No less crude

Than the government who killed

Kennedy!

The others too!

Marilyn Monroe!

Keep them at bay!

This hidden government seeks me

Only to erase my face..!

 

      Brutus

Let them enter.

 

      Crossmann

Wrong answer, Brutus!

They're here not for food --

But to make of Caesar

Their next cruel feast!

 

Lucius seems to spend much time

In his comings and in his goings...

 

                        Exit Lucius

 

They are the faction. O conspiracy,

Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night,

When evils are most free? O, then by day

Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough

To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy;

Hide it in smiles and affability:

For if thou path, thy native semblance on,

Not Erebus itself were dim enough

To hide thee from prevention.

 

                         Enter the conspirators, Cassius, Casca, Decius Brutus, Cinna, Metellus Cimber

                and Trebonius

 

      Crossmann

Is this the Dream Team then?

Everyone is here but

Our old friend, Johnny Cochrane...!

 

      Cassius

I think we are too bold upon your rest:

Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?

 

      Brutus

I have been up this hour, awake all night.

Know I these men that come along with you?

 

      Cassius

Yes, every man of them, and no man here

But honours you; and every one doth wish

You had but that opinion of yourself

Which every noble Roman bears of you.

This is Trebonius.

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

I don't believe I can stab the man!

It is not easy to kill a man!

You will have to do it for me!

Perhaps we can get McCain to do it!

 

      Unidentified Man (voice)

Worry not!

Give me the knife!

I have just the man prepared

To wield the dagger's blade

In the manneer of grim Cassius!

Everything is prepared...!

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

You have the patsy then?

You have our Oswald...?

 

      Unidentified Man (voice)

We have a man named Rhodes!

Caesar shamed this man

With the man's own wife

Before the man's own children!

He is eager for retribution...!

 

      Albert Gore (voice)

Marvelous how the gods allign

To make our power more mete'

To our plan.

 

      Brutus

He is welcome hither.

 

      Cassius

This, Decius Brutus.

 

      Brutus

He is welcome too.

 

      Cassius

This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.

 

      Brutus

They are all welcome.

What watchful cares do interpose themselves

Betwixt your eyes and night?

 

      Cassius

Shall I entreat a word?

 

                                    Cassius and Brutus whisper.

 

      Decius Brutus

Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?

 

      Casca

No.

 

      Cinna

O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines

That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

 

      Casca

You shall confess that you are both deceived.

Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises,

Which is a great way growing on the south,

Weighing the youthful season of the year.

Some two months hence up higher toward the north

He first presents his fire; and the high east

Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.

 

      Brutus

Give me your hands all over, one by one.

 

      Cassius

And let us swear our resolution.

 

      Brutus

No, not an oath: if not the face of men,

The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,--

If these be motives weak, break off betimes,

And every man hence to his idle bed;

So let high-sighted tyranny range on,

Till each man drop by lottery. But if these,

As I am sure they do, bear fire enough

To kindle cowards and to steel with valour

The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen,

What need we any spur but our own cause,

To prick us to redress? what other bond

Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,

And will not palter? and what other oath

Than honesty to honesty engaged,

That this shall be, or we will fall for it?

Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous,

Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls

That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear

Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain

The even virtue of our enterprise,

Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,

To think that or our cause or our performance

Did need an oath; when every drop of blood

That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,

Is guilty of a several bastardy,

If he do break the smallest particle

Of any promise that hath pass'd from him.

 

            Crossmann

Treason is not a gallant art

However one may dress it up

With words of noble virtue.

You light your own wick

From your father's flame;

To blow out the old man's life

Is the perilous walk

The damaged son takes

When striving with reason

For his own privilege

Or for notorious gain.

 

Traitors one!

Traitors all!

There is no Oswald in this room;

There is a Dulles, however;

A Hoover;

A Johnson or two.

Some Italian names as well,

Those angry at losing

Cuban resorts...!

 

      The Magician (aside)

He raves I fear.

The drink I give him

Makes his mind serially

Float.

 

 

      Cassius

But what of Cicero? shall we sound him?

I think he will stand very strong with us.

 

      Casca

Let us not leave him out.

 

      Cinna

No, by no means.

 

      Metellus Cimber

O, let us have him, for his silver hairs

Will purchase us a good opinion

And buy men's voices to commend our deeds:

It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands;

Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,

But all be buried in his gravity.

 

      Crossmann

They count the hairs of Clinton too.

 

      The Magician

It is not Clinton, man.

He is now at the French Open,

Making eyes at a plump little

Italian maid there.

Take this handkerchief and wipe your mouth!

 

                        Crossmann wipes his mouth with

                        the handkerchief.

 

      Brutus

O, name him not: let us not break with him;

For he will never follow any thing

That other men begin.

 

      Cassius

Then leave him out.

 

      Casca

Indeed he is not fit.

 

      Decius Brutus

 Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar?

 

      Cassius

Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet,

Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar,

Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him

A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means,

If he improve them, may well stretch so far

As to annoy us all: which to prevent,

Let Antony and Caesar fall together.

 

      Crossmann

They put a curse on brothers, then?

 

      The Magician

Brothers and fathers;

Daughters and men.

Tiberius Gracchus;

Gaius Gracchus as well.

 

      Albert Gore (offstage)

They say his brother was friends

With Ted Kucinski.

He lived with Kucinski, I believe.

They say he's cut from the same cloth

As Ted.

That's what they say.

He has sympathies with Koresh;

And also with McVeigh.

Radical!  Anarchist!

Take him down too!

 

      Brutus:

Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,

To cut the head off and then hack the limbs,

Like wrath in death and envy afterwards;

For Antony is but a limb of Caesar:

Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.

We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;

And in the spirit of men there is no blood:

O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,

And not dismember Caesar! But, alas,

Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,

Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;

Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,

Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds:

And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,

Stir up their servants to an act of rage,

And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make

Our purpose necessary and not envious:

Which so appearing to the common eyes,

We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.

And for Mark Antony, think not of him;

For he can do no more than Caesar's arm

When Caesar's head is off.

 

      Crossmann

Decent Brutus builds a pyre.

His decency shall spread the fire;

And he shall stand upon its sticks.

He feels himself a patriot;

He will not stoop to

Selfish rhetoric to rule.

Still, he shall live to rhue

His ideals, poor fool.

Ideals are for children;

A clear-sighted steadiness

For children grown old.

      Cassius

Yet I fear him;

For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar--

 

      Brutus

Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:

If he love Caesar, all that he can do

Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar:

And that were much he should; for he is given

To sports, to wildness and much company.

 

      Trebonius

There is no fear in him; let him not die;

For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

 

                        Clock strikes

 

      Brutus

Peace! count the clock.

 

      Cassius

The clock hath stricken three.

 

      Trebonius

'Tis time to part.

 

      Cassius

But it is doubtful yet,

Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no;

For he is superstitious grown of late,

Quite from the main opinion he held once

Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies:

It may be, these apparent prodigies,

The unaccustom'd terror of this night,

And the persuasion of his augurers,

May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

 

      Crossmann

The elevator more likely

Holds the key.

 

      The Magician

Ahh, it's a good man

Who learns on the tenth try.

 

      Decius Brutus

Never fear that: if he be so resolved,

I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear

That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,

 

      Crossmann

What the hell does that mean?

'The unicorns may be betray'd with trees'!

I love to hear that?

I think not.

Any day I'd rather hear:

'The elephants betray'd with holes'!

 

And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,

Lions with toils and men with flatterers;

But when I tell him he hates flatterers,

He says he does, being then most flattered.

Let me work;

For I can give his humour the true bent,

And I will bring him to the Capitol.

 

      Cassius

Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

 

      Brutus

By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?

 

      Cinna

Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

 

      Metellus Cimber

Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,

Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:

I wonder none of you have thought of him.

 

      Brutus

Now, good Metellus, go along by him:

He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;

Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

 

      Cassius

The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus.

And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember

What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.

 

      Brutus

Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;

Let not our looks put on our purposes,

But bear it as our Roman actors do,

 

      Crossmann

As Mister Booth himself

Has done.

With untired spirits and formal constancy:

And so good morrow to you every one.

 

                                    Exit all but Brutus.

 

Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,

Which busy care draws in the brains of men;

Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

 

                                    Enter Portia

 

      Portia

Brutus, my lord!

 

      Brutus

Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now?

It is not for your health thus to commit

Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

 

      Portia

Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus,

Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper,

You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,

Musing and sighing, with your arms across,

And when I ask'd you what the matter was,

You stared upon me with ungentle looks;

I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head,

And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot;

Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,

But, with an angry wafture of your hand,

Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did;

Fearing to strengthen that impatience

Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal

Hoping it was but an effect of humour,

Which sometime hath his hour with every man.

It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,

And could it work so much upon your shape

As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,

I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,

Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

 

      Brutus

I am not well in health, and that is all.

 

      Portia

Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,

He would embrace the means to come by it.

 

      Brutus

Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.

 

      Portia

Is Brutus sick? and is it physical

To walk unbraced and suck up the humours

Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,

And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,

To dare the vile contagion of the night

And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air

To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;

You have some sick offence within your mind,

Which, by the right and virtue of my place,

I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,

I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,

By all your vows of love and that great vow

Which did incorporate and make us one,

That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,

Why you are heavy, and what men to-night

Have had to resort to you: for here have been

Some six or seven, who did hide their faces

Even from darkness.

 

      Brutus

Kneel not, gentle Portia.

 

      Portia

I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.

Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,

Is it excepted I should know no secrets

That appertain to you? Am I yourself

But, as it were, in sort or limitation,

To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,

And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs

Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,

Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

 

      Crossmann

Oh, the moon is turning full!

She pours on him the silver

Of his failings,

Poor man...!

We have all been there,

Standing in the cold malefactory

Of her eyes,

Preparing ourselves to be beaten

With a sour, ratted tongue...!

 

      Brutus

You are my true and honourable wife,

As dear to me as are the ruddy drops

That visit my sad heart

 

      Crossmann

Ruddy drops, indeed!

Ruddy drops on my white feet!

 

      Portia

If this were true, then should I know this secret.

I grant I am a woman; but withal

A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:

I grant I am a woman; but withal

A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.

Think you I am no stronger than my sex,

Being so father'd and so husbanded?

Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em:

I have made strong proof of my constancy,

Giving myself a voluntary wound

Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience.

And not my husband's secrets?

 

       Brutus

O ye gods,

Render me worthy of this noble wife!

 

                                    Knocking within.

 

Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile;

And by and by thy bosom shall partake

The secrets of my heart.

All my engagements I will construe to thee,

All the charactery of my sad brows:

Leave me with haste.

 

                                    Exit Portia

 

Lucius, who's that knocks?

 

                                    Re-enter Lucius and Ligarius

 

      Lucius

He is a sick man that would speak with you.

 

      Brutus

Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.

Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?

 

      Ligarius

Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

 

      Brutus

O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,

To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!

 

      Ligarius

I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand

 Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

 

      Crossmann

Add another to the list --

Of those beseeching vengeance!

 

      Brutus

Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,

Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.

 

      Ligarius

By all the gods that Romans bow before,

I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome!

Brave son, derived from honourable loins!

Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up

My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,

And I will strive with things impossible;

Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?

 

      Crossmann

The ruling class does tremble

At the roar of a lion

Who is honored by their

Footstool!

 

      Brutus

A piece of work that will make sick men whole.

 

      Crossmann

A piece of work!

Call it its real name:

To sanitize!

To liquidate!

Murder never speaks its name...!

 

      Ligarius

But are not some whole that we must make sick?

 

      Brutus

That must we also. What it is, my Caius,

I shall unfold to thee, as we are going

To whom it must be done.

 

      Ligarius

Set on your foot,

And with a heart new-fired I follow you,

To do I know not what: but it sufficeth

That Brutus leads me on.

 

      Brutus

Follow me, then.

 

                                    The curtain falls.

 

      Crossmann

Formidable killers allign with the moon.

Mad become men when the Ides

Begin to croon.

 

      The Magician

The tyrrany of rhyme!

 

      Crossmann

Say you this a crime?

 

      The Magician

Verily -- this is no boon!

 

      Crossmann

You make me smile!

Your drink is still virile!

 

      The Magician

Have another then!

You'll need to make the world spin...!

 

The Magician hands Crossmann his bottle of

Wild Turkey. Crossmann drinks.

 

You are next on stage!

Go, wear your nightgown!

The killers are loose

But they are not yet beside you!

Do nott forget!

Keep your sword near!

 

Crossmann slides down a rope to the stage

floor .

 

      Martin Scorcese

You are dressed like a legionnaire!

Quck, into your nightgown!

And don't show us your genitalia

Again --

I don't think the critics will bear it

In this context!

Marge -- get this man in his

Wherewithall!

And don't try to wear your sword!

A sword with a nightgown!

Where are you living, Beirut!

Spanish Harlem!

South Central!

 

      Crossmann (aside)

He tries to un-man me!

 

      Marge

I have a dagger you can have

If it makes you feel more complete.

 

      Crossmann

You know there are those

Who plan to tear out my guts!

 

      Marge

It is a play only!

What have you been drinking!

It smells like peyote...!

 

      Crossmann

Peyote?

 

      Marge

I am one-seventeeth Navaho.

I know what peyote smells like...!

 

      Crossmann

I thought it had no smell.

 

      Marge

No.  It smells like nothing!

That is a different thing!

That's how I recognize it --

It smells like nothing.

 

      Crossmann

And what does nothing smell like?

 

      Marge

It smells like peyote.

 

Marge helps Crossmann slip into a nightgown.

 

Move over to the wing.

Marty is sniffing at the air.

 

Scorcese sniffs the air like a wolf at midnight.

 

      Scorcese

Ten seconds.

 

Marge hands Crossmann a taper.

 

Dammit, Marge.  That taper

Is for MacBeth!

 

Marge snatches the taper out of Crossmann's

hand.

 

      Scorcese

Ready!

 

                                    Curtain rises.

 

                                    Caesar's house.  Thunder and lighting.  Caesar enters, in his nightgown.

 

      Caesar

Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night:

Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out,

'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!'

Who's within?

 

                        Servant enters.

 

      Servant

My lord?

 

      Caesar

Go bid the priests do present sacrifice

And bring me their opinions of success.

 

      Servant

I will, my lord.

 

                        Servant exits.

 

                        Calpurnia enters.

 

      Calpurnia

What mean you, Caesar? think you to walk forth?

You shall not stir out of your house to-day.

 

      Irene Crossmann

Reactionary bastard!

You have ruined my life!

You have shamed me publicly!

Think what you have done

To our child...!

 

 

      Caesar

Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me

Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see

The face of Caesar, they are vanished.

 

      Crossmann

Do not begin this discourse on shame;

For you shall lose it!

I hesitate to call the mother of my child

A harlot;

But the evidence suggests

You to be nothing less --

And a liar to the extreme!

 

      Calpurnia

Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies;

 

      Irene Crossmann

You knew we were wedded to habit

And not to love!

It was years that you did not touch

Me with passion.

I have betrayed you only after you

Betrayed me;

You killed the woman in me

With a lack of respect!

 

Yet now they fright me. There is one within,

Besides the things that we have heard and seen,

Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.

A lioness hath whelped in the streets;

And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead;

Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,

In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,

Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;

The noise of battle hurtled in the air,

Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan,

And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.

O Caesar! these things are beyond all use,

And I do fear them.

 

      Crossmann

It seems like a normal day

For you:

Bats telling tales;

Graves opening;

Blood pouring from the ground

Like oil.

Ghosts shrieking and squalling.

Why frightened by such commonplace

Distates of your nerves!

My love for you never died,

It is true.

Until your face turned into ice;

And my hand on your leg

Made you squirm,

Not from fresh sensation,

But in morbid disillusion.

 

      Irene Crossmann

You call me frigid --

But my coldness you created!

You had your harlot!

Little Sophie Tucker,

Her mouth full of enthusiasms...!

 

      Crossmann

My guilt I don't deny!

But your guilt of perpetual deception

I had to hear on a series of talk shows!

You lied to me for many generations...!

 

      Irene Crossmann

I loved him more than you!

That is the simple fact!

Although, today, I still fear for you!

I do not hate you!

I do not wish you dead!

Just publicly humiliated!

For you have murdered innocence!

      Caesar

What can be avoided

Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?

Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions

Are to the world in general as to Caesar.

 

You speak a grand opprobrium

On fate!

But I know you!

I can read your face in fear!

 

      Calpurnia

When beggars die, there are no comets seen;

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

 

      Crossmann

A prince am I, then?

Do you hesitate not when

Bequeathing such nobility?

 

      Irene Crossmann

The Prince of Darkness verily!

With those magic glasses

And your friendly comic agent,

Mephistopheles!

 

Crossmann

Prince of the Light;

Prince of the Dark!

When you are dark, I am light.

When you are light, I am dark.

This tells you less about me

Than it does about Nature.

 

      Irene Crossmann

I know about your numbers.

I know about your converse

With demons.

I was witness to your transformation,

From the good man I knew

To the angry man of vengeance.

Jehovah's child you became --

All through some magic potion

That old Russian witch

Brewed for you!

I had you down in the deepest water,

Where I could control you;

Where you obeyed me;

Where you were on my side.

What happened to you?

That old Russian witch --

Mephistopheles herself --

Gave you back a second youth;

But it cost you dearly.

You gave up your soul.

You have blood on your hands;

You have a bloody rope

In your pocket!

Bloody Ahab!

Bloody Ishmael...!

Wipe your mouth, your lip is bleeding...!

 

 

      Caesar

Cowards die many times before their deaths;

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.

It seems to me most strange that men should fear;

Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come when it will come.

 

                                    Re-Enter the Servant.

 

What say the augurers?

 

      Servant

They would not have you to stir forth to-day.

Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,

They could not find a heart within the beast.

 

      Caesar

The gods do this in shame of cowardice:

Caesar should be a beast without a heart,

If he should stay at home to-day for fear.

No, Caesar shall not: danger knows full well

That Caesar is more dangerous than he:

We are two lions litter'd in one day,

And I the elder and more terrible:

And Caesar shall go forth.

 

      Calpurnia                              

Alas, my lord,

Your wisdom is consumed in confidence.

Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear

That keeps you in the house, and not your own.

 

 

      Crossmann

I am surprised by the passion with which you speak.

Care you so for I --

Is this real

 

      Irene Crossmann (aside)

I would not have these fat politicians carve you up

Until I have my chance at you!

I'll save you for the cheapest roast yet

By gaining your confidence I lead you

To a doomed inheritance!

That will be my revenge upon you!

We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house:

And he shall say you are not well to-day:

Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.

 

      Crossmann

I've not seen you on your knees

In years.

 

      Irene Crossmann

Do not soil this gesture with some

Inane sexual reference.

I am not, afterall, some shadow

Of Sophie Tucker.

 

      Crossmann

In prayer, I mean!

 

      Irene Crossmann

I have not been Catholic since my

Brain was awakened!

And I shall not be Catholic again!

 

      Crossmann

You choose mediocre beliefs instead --

And you now wear these proudly.

You shall see these usurpers, too,

Have their shadows.

 

      Irene Crossmann

And, speaking of shadows,

Have you seen these three...?

 

Irene Crossmann points to the front gate of the

house.  Three ghosts are waiting outside the gate.

Three skinheads, each dressed as Roman gladiators,

each carrying a sword, each with a face gleaming at

Crossmann.  Kit Carson; Dieter Richards; and Tommy Kuntz.

 

      Crossmann

 

Yes.  Well.....

 

      Caesar

Mark Antony shall say I am not well,

And, for thy humour, I will stay at home.

 

                                    Enter Decius Brutus.

 

Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.

 

Decius Brutus

Caesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Caesar:

I come to fetch you to the senate-house.

 

      Crossmann

There is no greater scum than he

Who enters my home to deceive me!

 

      Caesar

And you are come in very happy time,

To bear my greeting to the senators

And tell them that I will not come to-day:

Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser:

I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius.

 

      Calpurnia

Say he is sick.

 

Caesar

Shall Caesar send a lie?

Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,

To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth?

Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.

 

Decius Brutus

Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,

Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so.

 

      Crossmann

We both know it's not laughter you fear,

Traitor!

It's that your hands will not be

Blood-covered by day's end!

 

      Caesar

The cause is in my will: I will not come;

That is enough to satisfy the senate.

But for your private satisfaction,

Because I love you, I will let you know:

Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:

She dreamt to-night she saw my statue,

Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts,

Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans

Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it:

And these does she apply for warnings, and portents,

And evils imminent; and on her knee

Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day.

 

Decius Brutus

This dream is all amiss interpreted;

It was a vision fair and fortunate:

Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,

In which so many smiling Romans bathed,

Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck

Reviving blood, and that great men shall press

For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance.

This by Calpurnia's dream is signified.

And this way have you well expounded it.

 

 

      Crossmann

Must I play such a fool to you?

Must I believe this glib interpretation

of sorrow?

This, of course, is not consistent

With my character --

I who have wrestled with Nights's own fiery

Fate

A myth as deep as the ocean's unfair

Proportions...?

 

      The Magician (dressed as Decius Brutus)

Inconsistent with you as a person of flesh --

No doubt.

But not inconsistent with you as

Shakespeare's ploy --

As his historical boy --

As his hysterical toy...!

You play the part that has been writ;

You are an actor here --

Nothing more, nothing less!

 

      Crossmann

And you are Decius Brutus, then?

 

      The Magician

Well, I applied for the part of Brutus, himself;

But Scorcese had some other intent.

I wished to be close to the action.

And who knows dreams better than I?

 

      Decius Brutus

I have, when you have heard what I can say:

And know it now: the senate have concluded

To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.

If you shall send them word you will not come,

Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock

Apt to be render'd, for some one to say

'Break up the senate till another time,

When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams.'

If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper

'Lo, Caesar is afraid'?

Pardon me, Caesar; for my dear dear love

To our proceeding bids me tell you this;

And reason to my love is liable.

 

      Crossmann (aside)

This man deserves the oscar for betrayal!

He leads the calf with honied loom

Straight into the lance!

 

      Caesar

How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia!

I am ashamed I did yield to them.

Give me my robe, for I will go.

 

                                    Enter Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, Trebonius and Cinna.

 

And look where Publius is come to fetch me.

 

      Publius

Good morrow, Caesar.

 

      Crossmann

Which of these truly carries the knife?

Gore has sold his blade to a second.

Bush would never stab a man in his back!

It is not in his nature!

He is not the moral coward surely!

 

      The Magician

It is in the text, my friend --

Not in the nature!

In the nature of the text, my friend --

Not in the text of the nature!

 

      Crossmann

The text carries rubber knives, rubber swords,

To flay me.

But there is one in here who seeks to kill me.

Isn't that what the soothsayer said --

Old man Scorcese!

 

      The Magician

The brave man dies but once!

 

      Crossmann

Aye!  And the devil not at all!

 

      Caesar

Welcome, Publius.

What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too?

Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius,

Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy

As that same ague which hath made you lean.

What is 't o'clock?

 

      Brutus

Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.

 

      Caesar

I thank you for your pains and courtesy.

 

                        Enter Antony.

 

See! Antony, that revels long o' nights,

Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony.

 

      Antony

So to most noble Caesar.

 

Caesar

Bid them prepare within:

I am to blame to be thus waited for.

Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius!

I have an hour's talk in store for you;

Remember that you call on me to-day:

Be near me, that I may remember you.

 

      Trebonius

Caesar, I will:

 

                                    (aside)                          

 

And so near will I be,

That your best friends shall wish I had been further.

 

      Caesar

Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me;

And we, like friends, will straightway go together.

 

      Brutus (aside)

That every like is not the same, O Caesar,

The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!

 

                                    Exit all

 

                                    Curtain falls.

 

      Crossmann

The blade is close: I feel its cold

Cadenza.

 

Shall I flee?

Can one flee easily his own circus?

Can one escape his armorless dream?

Existential felicitiy stops not at one's nose,

Stops not at the other's fist --

Stops not until the dreamer awakens!

 

      The Magician

It is child's play;

It is drama for the rich caste.

Do not lose your head.

A stab in the back,

A thrust in the ribs:

Then you move on to finer things.

 

      Crossmann

Should I run?

 

      The Magician

Well, you always can run.

You always can try.

But I would advise against it.

Cowardice is almost never rewarded.

 

      Scorcese (to Crossmann)

So, have you figured it out:

Who is the mole?

Who is the one who will kill you?

Come with me....

 

 Scorcese leads Crossmann out through the closed curtain to the front stage a few feet from the audience.  Television cameras come swooping in.

 

      Scorcese

Ladies and germs, children and grub worms, you have all been watching our production, entitled "Survivor: Shakespeare's Julius Caesar."  As you know, one of the men or women in this play is armed with a real knife.  One of them is under instructions to try to murder this man, Michael Crossmann.  All the actors are armed with rubber swords and rubber daggers -- only one is the real thing: an assassin.

 

The camera moves in.  Dramatic music begins to play in the background.  It is the music from Kubrick's 'Eyes Wide Shut', the haunted Fidelio music.  Closeups on Scorcese and Crossmann.

 

Who will it be: will it be Cassius, played by Albert Gore?

 

Camera cuts to Gore dressed as Cassius, his face illuminated by a spotlight.

 

Or will it be Brutus, played by George W. Bush?

 

Camera cuts to Bush dressed as Brutus, his face illuminated by a spotlight.

 

Or will it be Calpurnia, played by Irene Crossmann, Michael Crossmann's estranged wife?

 

The camera moves to the illuminated Irene Crossmann

 

Or will it be Mark Antony, played by William Crossmann, Michael Crossmann's brother?  Or Decius Brutus, played by the Bald-Headed Man who some people report is a renegade operative of the CIA; others suggest he is Gordon Liddy; some say he is Gordon Liddy's clone; still others suggest he is the illegitimate son of John Mitchell, Richard Nixon's Attorney General; and others maintain he is directly related to Mayor John Daley, political czar of Chicago for more than half a century?  Or will it be Publius, played by John Preston, the leader of the student hangings back at Southwest Eugene High School.  Or will it be Cinna, the black man who looks like Lou Rawls, whose real name is Kwadwo Fordjour, nephew of Idi Amin, who won fame in the off-Broadway production last year of "Judas Iscariot" and before that as Othello, directed by "Dead Again's"  Kenneth Branaugh -- whom the New York Post has hailed as the 'next Ben Vereen'?  Or will it be Metellus, played by Don Rhodes, husband of Crossmann's muse and lyric bride, Leslie Rhodes.  We all saw the scene in Wagner's "Tristan and Isolde" in which Crossmann and Leslie Rhodes made love several times on the stage in what the New York Times now is calling the 'most risque production of Wagner yet, opera verite in its most naked and juiciest manifestation.'  Or will it be Trebonnius, played by Mitchell Caruth, the White Supremacist leader of the Aryan compound in Elden, Idaho -- the man who offered Crossmann a job in the all-white town -- and who is reportedly angry at Crossmann for Crossmann's refusal to join his tribe of skinheads and Aryan malcontents?  Or perhaps its Casca, played by Andrew Tucker, the father of Sophie Tucker, the 16-year old vamp with whom Crossmann apprently engaged in some form of sexual misconduct while a teacher at Southwest Eugene High School -- behavior which Crossmann denied was sex but admitted was 'inappropriate' and 'morally wrong'?  Or will it be Portia, the wife of Brutus, played by feminist activist Gloria Steinem, who is reputedly angry at Crossmann for his alleged anti-feminist views?  Or, perhaps it is the soothsayer, played wonderfully by the talk show stratavarius, Jerry Springer?  Or perhaps it will be Marge, played first by Shirley Booth, played later in the play, as she re-becomes a Maggie, by the new actress senasation from England, Catherine Zeta-Jones.

      We are going to let everyone in the theatre vote -- there are remote ballots inside your seats with a list of possible suspects.  And you can vote now by pushing a button with the suspect's name beside it.

      Here they are again. 

 

      Scorcese points to a lineup of all the possiible killers standing against a wall in a typical police lineup all illuminated by a series of spotlights.

 

Those of you at home can vote using the internet.  Just visit http://www.crossmannassassin.com and cast your vote for the one you think most likely to kill Michael Crossmann tonight.

      Remember, someone will leave tonight with one million dollars: it will either by Michael Crossmann, himself, if he avoids being murdered; or it will go to the man or woman who successfully murders Michael Crossmann.  Whatever the case, we will be there to show you how the action unfolds.  Tonight's show, of course, is being brought to you by Snapple and by Intel, with its infamous Blue Men.

      Thank you for coming.  Now we will return to our drama.

 

Scorcese escorts Crossmann back behind the curtain.  Scorcese gives a hang-signal to the crew.  Everything is in place.

 

Ten seconds!

 

All the actors move in to place.

 

Christ, man!  You've got to get out of that nightgown!  Maggie!  Help this man back into his day clothes.

 

Crossmann goes with Maggie.

 

      Maggie

Get out of that nightgown now, Michael.

And don't be showing me Mister Johnson again.

I might not be able to control myself --

You are a handsome man, afterall.

And I do have my woman sensations and all.

And we have no time to do the wash.

You're expected in the next scene.

 

Crossmann undresses.  He is standing in his boxer-shorts.  Maggie dresses him up as a Roman King.  She brushes her hand slowly across his penis as she helps him on with his pants.  She blushes.

      A drop of blood falls on the back of her hand from the wound in Crossmann's lip.

 

                                    The curtain rises.

 

                                    Rome, a street near the Capitol.

                       

                                    Enter Artemodorus, reading a newspaper.

 

      Artemidorus

'Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius;

come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna, trust not

Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus

Loves thee not: thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius.

There is but one mind in all these men, and it is

bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal,

Look about you: security gives way to conspiracy.

The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover,

Artemidorus.'

 

Here will I stand till Caesar pass along,

And as a suitor will I give him this.

My heart laments that virtue cannot live

Out of the teeth of emulation.

If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live;

If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.

 

      Crossmann

What is this strange scene?

'Thy lover' -- are they suggesting now

That Caesar is gay?

What ridiculous imagery modernity

Transports here

In such classic configuration.

 

      The Magician

Butthole-banditry was rampant in Rome.

 

      Crossmann

No wonder Rome fell.

     

      The Magician

Where do you think the bath-house

Was born?

 

      Crossmann

I speak not good or evil or shame;

But one act gives Life;

The other act gives nothing back

But a brown end

And a negotiation with waste.

Injecting seeds in a fallow ground.

 

      The Magician

Not the fallow ground alone.

The unhallowed ground.

Waste's sallow benediction

Aids death and non-generation.

 

      Crossmann

You agree then?

 

      The Magician

I agree with everything you say.

That is in our contract --

Is it not?

 

                                                Spotlights illumine the far side of the stage.

 

                                                Another part of the same street, before the house of BRUTUS.

 

                                                Enter Portia and Lucius

 

      Portia

I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house;

Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:

Why dost thou stay?

 

      Lucius

To know my errand, madam.

 

      Portia

I would have had thee there, and here again,

Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.

O constancy, be strong upon my side,

Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!

I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.

 

      Crossmann

Perhaps a woman's mind, but a man's desire!

 

      Gloria Steinem

Why do you subject me to your torment?

Had I a kife I would bury it into your breast!

 

      Crossmann

Come, dear -- can't we agree to not agree?

 

      Gloria Steinem

You wish to keep women down!

To keep African Americans down!

I heard your rude remark about gays --

'Earth-stained end'!

Do you think that is funny?

 

      Crossmann

I grow weary of your conceit and your self-flattery.

Whom do you hate, beside your own father?

You own mother -- for she, too, should have

Hated your father.

You blame her for loving the man --

Upon whom you have piled all the sins of the

World.

Your father did not enslave black men and

Kill Indians

And colonize the world.

Neither did I....

 

      Gloria Steinem

You would if you could!

You will again!

 

      Crossmann

You build your life on a foundation

Of hate.

The world is as it is for a reason.

 

      Gloria Steinem

This God of yours!

Your God is a man!

My God is a woman!

 

      Crossmann

Your God is dark.

He inhabits the underworld.

He has power in the water

On the dark side of the Earth.

 

      Gloria Steinem

See -- in your vainglory --

You call even my female God

A man!

 

      Crossmann

Your love is for the destruction

Of the world.

 

      Gloria Steinem

You call it destruction --

And I call it justice!

 

      Crossmann

You and your friend Stalin --

He who killed sixty-six million Russians,

Forging his failed utopia.

 

      Gloria Steinem

Reactionary!

 

      Crossmann

Your idea now rules;

It now compells the academy.

And those who publish, and make art!

I merely revolt against the permanence

Of your darkness.

 

      Gloria Steinem

Archangel that you are!

 

      Crossmann

Grendel's mother!

 

      Gloria Steinem

At least, if you hate me,

Call me Grendel!

 

      Crossmann

You are not Grendel!

You have no Johnson --

No thingmote,

No thingamagic...!

You hate God for that!

He set a huge space between the mountain

And the vale.

 

      Glora Steinem

The valley is the inverted mountain!

 

      Crossmann

I agree.

An anti-mountain you might say.

I have a man's day and a woman's night.

 

      Gloria Steinem

You are God's son, you say?

I have a man's blade and a woman's stealth.

I have a man's hatred and a woman's health.

I will stab you where you cannot reach.

And I will laugh like Lilith

As I watch you bleed

Reciting the Lord's prayer!

Amen, Amiens!

 

How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

Art thou here yet?

 

      Lucius

Madam, what should I do?

Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?

And so return to you, and nothing else?

 

      Portia

Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,

For he went sickly forth: and take good note

What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.

Hark, boy! what noise is that?

 

      Lucius

I hear none, madam.

 

      Portia

Prithee, listen well;

I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,

And the wind brings it from the Capitol.

 

      Lucius

Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.

 

                                    Enter the Soothsayer

 

      Portia

Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been?

 

      Soothsayeer

At mine own house, good lady.

 

      Crossmann

I hardly recognize you!

You look like a man!

 

      Jerry Springer (dressed as Soothsayer)

I say the man will meet his match

When he is fastened to the snatch.

Every day the man will cry

When he's married to the lie.

 

      Crossmann

You disgrace the poor for the sake of a dime!

 

      Jerry Springer

No one comes to me by force.

I wait, no one I shall coerce.

They seek me out less for wealth

Or to vent a spleen

Than to see themselves on the tv screen!

 

      Crossmann

You manipulate their weakness

And humiliate their greed

All to line your own pockets --

You create a white trash need.

 

      Jerry Springer

I do not discriminate

Against a race or gender or creed.

I do not eliminate

Anyone willing to disgrace his seed.

All are welcomed to my show:

Queers and cross-dresseers, molestors and cheats.

You will be there when you go

Down below, seeking out your sweets.

Yes, I have many files on you.

You could be in Sing-Sing now.

The statutory rape you do

Or did could lead you to the....

Slammer!

 

      Portia

What is't o'clock?

 

      Jerry Springer

You should ask the time-keeper, Crossmann!

 

      Gloria Steinem

I'm asking you, creep!

 

      Soothsayer

About the ninth hour, lady.

 

      Portia

Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?

 

      Soothsayer

Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand,

To see him pass on to the Capitol.

 

      Portia

Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not?

 

      Soothsayer

That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar

To be so good to Caesar as to hear me,

I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

 

      Gloria Steinem

Do you speak of masturbation?

 

      Jerry Springer

Not I -- but clearly your mind goes there!

 

      Gloria Steinem

Be a friend to your own hand first!

That is a creed my sisters share!

We do not need the man to please us!

Two fingers pinched together tight

Shall squeeze us!

 

      Jerry Springer

You should be on my show some time!

Bring your sisters on and tease us;

Demonstrate your handsome-featured

Fingers' glee -- it shall surely please us!

 

      Gloria Steinem

And your rating no doubt!

 

      Jerry Springer

Is success such a crime?

 

      Gloria Steinem

Success built upon the humiliation of others?

You tell me.

 

      Crossmann

My God, I think we share some symptom

Of moral sickness at this man's wage.

 

      Jerry Springer

I am decent -- a journalist!

A sociologist am I,

Seeking in the damaged children

A path to heal them from their tears!

 

      Crossmann

Give us a philosophical field-goal

At the end of the game then!

 

      Jerry Springer

In a world of often-damaged creatures

Who turn away from their spouses

Seeking love to help them rise each day,

Some men seek the love of young girls,

So swollen with nature's bounty,

Fresh budding bodies and lips like berries --

It is hard to blame this man, Michael Crossmann,

For taking a ripe beauty into his arms.

His wife had grown cold to him, had, indeed,

Taken another man as her lover,

Taken him before she was wed to Crossman,

And even after, with common ploy.

Yet Michael Crossmann not only broke the law

When he took advantage of the ruby Sophie Tucker,

Since she was underage,

But he also violated professional ethics,

By violating one of his own student's trust.

That is the sin, the broken law,

Which I, for one, shall not forgive him...!

 

The audience begins shouting, with raised fists: 'Jerry!  Jerry!  Jerry!  Jerry...!'

 

 

      Portia

Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him?

 

      Soothsayer

None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance.

Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow:

The throng that follows Caesar at the heels,

Of senators, of praetors, common suitors,

Will crowd a feeble man almost to death:

I'll get me to a place more void, and there

Speak to great Caesar as he comes along.

 

                                    Soothsayer exits.

 

      Portia

I must go in. Ay me, how weak a thing

The heart of woman is! O Brutus,

 

      Gloria Steinem

How I hate to say such a thing!

Clearly a man puts something alien

In a woman's mouth

Be it words, in my case,

Or metallic sperm, in the case of our

Mutual friend...!

The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise!

Sure, the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit

That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint.

Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord;

Say I am merry: come to me again,

And bring me word what he doth say to thee.

 

                                    All Exit

 

                                    The curtain falls.

The lights come up backstage.  Maggie is kneeling before Crossmann, her head moving in a trance, bak and forth.  Crossmann does not stop her, even as others turn to witness the act.

 

      Crossmann (blushing)

Now every admirer of my painting style has seen my gouache of Marge (she is so like her sister, you know, and they both dress ALIKE) which I titled 'The Very Picture of a Needlesswoman" -- though some believed I said 'Needlelesswoman'.  This genre of portraiture of changes of minds should evoke the bush soul of females, and so I leave it to the experienced victim to complete the general suggestion by a mental addition of a kangeroo hop or Congo teal.  But the point to be made is this: the hatboxes which composed the rhomboid or trapezoid cubist portrait of Marge in her excelsis also comprise the above mentioned isocelating biangle, which we shall now call the B-C climactogram, for Brutus and Cassius form the two lower points, the upper point being void for the moment -- and these suggest men's spring modes -- which carry us back to cenozoic times -- oh, yes -- to the bo”te ˆ surpises of political evolution.  Oh, yes, dear one.  Boxes of this kind are worth about fourpence a piece -- although yours is more lovely -- but I am inventing a new process, after which they can be produced for a -- oh, oh -- a fraction of their present cost by even the youngest of the Margees...!

 

Crossmann pinches his eyes closed and begins to quake and groan.  He knows people are watching him; but what can he do.  Maggie's head is moving wildly; and Crossmann gives himself up to the pleasure of her company.  Others glance away, trying not to be too obvious.  Crossmann lets out a damaged little cry; and begins breathing deeply from his lower stomach, deep breaths, deep breaths.

      Maggie puts his Roman trousers back in place; and she uses a discarded puffy shirt to wipe her mouth.

 

      Maggie

Now, how was that for a Millenium Kiss?

 

Crossmann cannot answer; his eyes are still pressed shut.  He looks down at the beautiful Maggie and smiles a sheepish, guilty smile.  Maggie looks exactly like Sophie Tucker -- only older.  Exactly like Catherine Zeta-Jones, only younger.

 

Crossmann hears a church bell tolling -- he wonders if this means its Midnight.  He looks at his watch.  But he has no watch.

 

      Maggie

You are so afraid of pleasure.

Why do you think women are here on the earth?

We are the pleasure principle?

You men are the pain principle -- at least, that's how it seems to me.

Relax a bit; let yourself have some fun.

 

      Gloria Steinem (walking by, under her

            breath)

Slut!

 

      Maggie

Cow!

 

                        (to Crossmann)

 

Feminists want to take away

All of the man's fun!

They talk about equality, they talk about justice --

Really all they care about

Is destroying every form of fun for the man!

 

Crossmann notices, on the wall above Martin Scorcese's head, an emblem, a stage sign he has never noticed before.

 

           

 

      William Crossmann

Are you too pleased with yourself now

To recognize your own danger?

You know what the next act brings?

 

      Crossmann

No.

 

      William Crossmann

Duncan Harris and Robert Eggers would be

Foaming at the mouth by now,

Ready to make their midnight creep:

The next act is your death, brother!

The next act your assassination!

You must flee!

 

      Crossmann

Where?

 

      William Crossmann

Where is the magician?

 

      Crossmann

The thingamagician...?

 

      William Crossmann

Are you drunk, man?

Drunk with pleasure?

The Magician could show you the way

Out of here --

The way to the elevator.

 

      Irene Crossmann

I could show him!

 

      William Crossmann

You!  Bitch!

 

      Irene Crossmann

Parasite!

I can show him to the elevator now!

Would you rather save his life --

Or call me deadly words...?

 

      William Crossmann

Take him then -- I am expected in the next act!

 

      Crossmann

At the apex, you mean?

At the triangle's highest point?

 

      William Crossmann

I never understood Pythagoras!

 

      Irene Crossmann

Come with me!

 

Irene Crossmann takes her husband's hand; and they hurry through the back stage, down a hallway, running, looking behind them.  No one seems to be following.  Irene leads him to an elevator.

 

      Irene Crossmann

You have to use your key!

This elevator works not for me!

 

Crossmann uinlocks the elevator with his key.  The door opens.  The Crossmann's step inside.

 

      Crossmann

Let's go to the top.

 

      Irene Crossmann

Yes.

 

She pushes the button.  Crossmann does not see which button she has pushed.  Irene turns eagerly toward Crossmann; she throws her body against his.

 

      Irene Crossmann

That show you made with that Maggie girl

Aroused in me a desire to roll.

Have you the strength again

To please a maid...?

 

Irene kisses her husband on the mouth.  His head spins.  Her mouth opens up like a ripe kiwi. 

 

      Crossmann

I have no energy for love at the moment, dear!

Someone is armed to slay me now --

Is it you?

 

Irene pulls away from Crossmann, cold again toward him.

 

      Irene Crossmann

I don't desire to see you dead.

I desire to heal your wounds.

 

                        (aside)

 

I much prefer public humiliation to blood!

 

The elevator door opens onto a deserted hallway with rooms on each side.  Irene stops at the first door ont he right.

 

      Irene Crossmann

Use your key and wait inside.

I will see where we are.

I'll be back in a second.

 

Crossmann opens the door and steps inside.  He hears Irene's footsteps hurry up the hallway.  Inside, on a sofa in the front room, Ralph Nader is bound and gagged, watching television.  Crossmann joins him.

 

Nader is watching 'The Weakest Link' -- a cold British moll winking at the camera, saying rude things to the contestants.  Nader is laughing through the rag in his mouth.  Crossmann tears the tape off Nader's face, pulling the rag out of his mouth.

 

      Ralph Nader

I just love her!

She's the best -- the best...!

 

Crossmann thinks of Kenny Banya, when he said to Jerry Seinfeld: 'This is gold, Jerry -- gold...!'  He looks at Nader a second time, to make sure he wasn't really Kenny Banya.  He notices a ladybug crawling about Nader's left eye.

 

Untie me!

I need to get to the presidential debates...!

 

      Crossmann

Who tied you up in here?

 

      Nader

A bald-headed guy!

He looked a bit like that actor who played Jackson Pollock!

What's his name -- Ed something...?

 

      Crossmann

Fred Mertz?

 

      Nader

No.  Ed Norton, I think!

 

      Crossmann

Ed Harris!

 

      Nader

That's him!  But it wasn't him -- it just looked a bit like him...!

 

      Crossmann

And why did he do it?

 

      Nader

He works for Gore!

He's afraid my candidacy will give the election to Bush!

 

      Crossmann

Isn't he right?

 

      Nader

Who gives a damn!

Perot gave the election to Clinton!

I'll give the election to Bush!

Six for one and half-dozen for the other!

I just saw you on tv getting head from that beauty!

You're doing alright for yourself tonight!

What was her name?

 

      Crossmann

Who?

 

      Nader

The beauty!

 

      Crossmann

Oh, Marge.

 

      Nader

Marge what?

 

      Crossmann

I don't know.

 

      Nader

Did you get her phone number?

 

      Crossmann

No.

 

      Nader

Are you crazy, man!

She was gorgeous!

She looked like an actress...!

You oughta call her up!

Here, untie me!

 

There is a knock on the door.  A secret knock.  A secret syncophated knock:

 

Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock..

 

      Crossmann

That's the right knock!

 

      Nader (whispering)

Hurry!  Untie me!  It's them...!

 

Crossmann rises from the sofa, moves to the door, and peeks through the peep-hole.  It is his wife, Irene Crossmann, with a young man dressed in an usher's costume.  Crossmann thinks he has seen that usher before; he joins them, closing the door on Ralph Nader.

      Crossmann walks up a dimly-lit hallway with his wife and the usher.  He tries to remember where he has seen the usher before.  It should be clearer to him.  It was not long ago.

      Crossmann hears music, and wild applause.

     

      Usher

You should wait in here,

Until we call for you...

 

He opens a door off to his right.  It is a small room with a couch.  Ralph Nader is sitting on the couch, bound and gagged.  He is watching a re-run of "Gilligan's Island," laughing heartily through the gag in his mouth.

      Crossmann pulls the tape off his face; and removes the dirty rag from his mouth.

     

      Crossmann

Who did this to you?

 

      Ralph Nader

It doesn't matter -- have you seen this show.  Watch Tina Louise bend down, watch it....!

 

Crossmann and Nader both watch the television closely.  Tina Louise is dressed in a formal gown; and she bends down to pick something off the ground, showing the tops of her breasts to the audience.

 

      Nader

Oh, my God, how I love that woman!

 

      Crossmann

What are you doing here?

 

      Nader

Watching tv -- what do you think?

 

      Crossmann

Do you want me to untie you?

 

      Nader

Not particularly.  They bring me food.  It's not such a bad life really....

 

There is a knock on the door.  A secret knock.  A secret syncophated knock:

 

Knock _ Knock_ Knock_ _ _ _ Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_Knock_ _ _ Knock _ Knock_ Knock..

 

      Crossmann

That's the knock!

 

      Nader

Shh!  Here she comes again!

 

Crossmann moves to the door, peering thorugh the peep-hole.  It is his brothere, William Crossmann.  Crossmann opens the door.

 

      Crossmann

What is it?

 

      William Crossmann

Come with me!  This is Jerry Springer's show!

They want to humiliate you...!

 

Crossmann leaves with his brother.  They bend off to the left, taking a long dark hallway away from the music and the audience roaring.  There is another door.

 

      William Crossmann

Go in there!  They are waiting for you!

 

Crossmann does as he is told.  He opens the door; and moves into the new room.  It seems like another theatre.  Discarded scenes are pushed against the walls.  There is a closed curtain.  It is a stage.  There seems to be an audience beyond the curtain.  He hears a calm voice addressing the audience.

      Crossmann approaches the curtain.  He sticks his head out the curtain, looking around.

 

      Jim Lehrer

There he is, finally!  Ralph Nader, the third member of our debate!  Please come out, Mister Nader.

 

Crossmann moves through the opening in the heavy crimson curtain.  The audience applauds.  Off to his right are two men: Al Gore and George W. Bush.  Each is standing at a podium.  There is an empty podium in between the two.  Crossmann moves toward the empty podium.

 

      Al Gore

Uhh, I object, your honor!  This man is a fraud!  This man is not Ralph Nader...!

 

      George W. Bush

No!  No, sir!  That is not Mister Nader...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Well, now that you step into the light, it is pretty clear that you are not Ralph Nader.  No, it is Michael Crossmann, writer, artist and late-vigilante, who has joined us -- quite unexpectedly, I must say...!

 

      Al Gore

He must be excluded from this debate, Mister Lehrer!  I believe there should be some investigation as to how he got here -- and what happened to Ralph Nader...!  Check the closed-circuit television.  Check Ralph Nader in his dressing room...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

This is highly irregular, Mister Crossmann!  Did Mister Nader give up his place on this panel to you?

 

      Crossmann

No, I, in fact -- I was just looking for a bathroom.

 

The audience laughs.

 

      Al Gore

The audience shouldn't be allowed to laugh for a man who is here illegally, Jim!  I believe that was written in to our agreement -- was it not!  Please, just check that closed-circuit television.

 

The closed-circuit picture of Ralph Nader's dressing room shows Nader sitting on a sofa, bound about his body by ropes.  He is laughing at the television.

 

Isn't it clear what happened!  Michael Crossmann incapacitated Mister Nader by force to take his place here on the panel.  Tied him up, and gagged him...!

 

      George W. Bush

He is not gagged, Al!  Looks like he's having a good time!  I think he's watching that episode of "Gilligan's Island" where Tina Louise bends over all the time.  And Gilligan has a coconut fall on his head; and he thinks he's a monkey...!

 

The audience laughs.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Nader, can you hear me?

 

      Ralph Nader

Yes, Jim, loud and clear.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Did Michael Crossmann tie you up so he could take your place in this debate?

 

      Nader

No, Jim.  Gosh no.  It wasn't Crossmann.  He, in fact, took this dirty sock out of my mouth so I could laugh.  It was some bald-guy who tied me up.  He used a stun-gun on me; then he tied me up.  He turned in Jerry Springer's show, to try to drive me insane.  But I found a way to sit on the remote, and I changed the channel.  I watched the "Andy Griffith Show" first, you know the one where Opie competes with a girl who is a better athlete than he is -- and then "Gilligan" came on.  So, I'm fine now.  They bring food every now and then.  And water.  Yes, I'm doing fine...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Do you want to join us?  We could find another podium...

 

      Al Gore

I agreed to a debate with three people only, not four!  Four is an unlucky number...!

 

      Nader

No, not really.  I like it here.  As long as someone points out that the corporations are blood-sucking evil vermin that are stealing us blind and eating out our hearts, turning us into a soulless society, polluting the world, crippling our spirits, driving us into the valley of the shadow of death.  We'd be better off, the human race, that is, if we had never left the caves of France -- never come down out of African trees!  That's what I think!  We'd be better off if the Earth had never seen the likeness of men!  We should just crawl back into that cave; and pull the rock over the mouth of that cave!  That's what I think!  But, no -- I'm having fun here.  They bring food!  And they have cable!  No, I'm doing fine here!  But thanks for asking...!

 

The audience applauds politely.

 

The closed-circuit tv goes blank.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Well, he seems to be resting comfortably.

 

      George W. Bush

That's about all we can ask for sometimes.  Sometimes that's enough....

 

      Jim Lehrer

Yes.  Well, let's get started.  I want to welcome all three candidates to this final debate -- hear on the campus of New York University -- sponsored by the League of Women Voters.  These questions have been submitted by our studio audience -- and most are questions that I have been wanting to ask myself for quite some time.  Remember, audience members will vote for the answer they like the most after each candidate has a chance to answer.  We have selected the studio audience carefully so it represents a Harris poll sample.  So what the audience votes will be a pretty accurate view of what Americans generally are feeling.  Ok, are we ready to start?

 

      George W. Bush

Is there going to be a center jump to see who gets the ball first?

 

      Al Gore

I live closest to New York, so I should be considered the home team -- I should get to bat last...!

 

Al Gore smiles a very broad smile -- he has just hit a homerun.  But the audience sighs with disgust at his joke -- and his face falls.  And he begins to lose his confidence.

 

      Jim Lehrer

First question, from Elizabeth Weiss, Tuscaloosa, Alabama: 'What is your favorite food?'  Governor, let's start with you...

 

      Al Gore

Just a moment, Jim.  I'd like to ask for clarification.  'Favorite food'?  Does that mean favorite meal -- or favorite any kind of food?  I mean: we could say chocalate chip cookies, but that isn't a meal.  You see what I mean...?

 

      Jim Lehrer

Ok, I'll modify this a bit: 'What is your favorite dinner?'

 

      Al Gore

Well, 'dinner' is not 'meal'.  My favorite meal is breakfast: I don't eat meat for breakfast any more, but I really used to love a couple of link sausages rolled up in some buttermilk pancakes, smothered in a very thick maple syrup...

 

      Jim Lehrer

It's not your turn, Mister Vice-President!

 

      Al Gore

Oh!

 

      George W. Bush

My turn?  Ok.  My favorite dinner would be a big bowl of Texas chile, with antelope meat, spiced up with habanero chiles, chased by a pitcher of Bud.  With some of those plain sopapillas for desert, the kind you put honey on.  They're like those big elephant ears you get at the carnivals....

 

The audience applauds politely.  A man in the balcony yells at the top of his lungs and waves his stetson wildly.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Crossmann?

 

      Crossmann

Well, every Sunday my mom used to make fried chicken with mashed potatoes and asparagus.  Throw in a cherry pie ala mode, with a cup of strong black coffee.  That would probably be my favorite meal.

 

The audience applauds.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Vice-President?

 

      Al Gore

Well, I gave my hand a way a bit before, I guess -- going on about my favorite meal being breakfast.  My favorite dinner, I believe, although it's hard to say, because there is so much I like, from Idaho potatoes, to California melons, to Louisiana rice, and Ohio corn, Arkansas poultry, Florida oranges, Kentucky tobacco, New York City bagels...oh, yes, there is so much good food emanating from all the different regions of this great country of hours, with all its races and cultures -- I love enchilladas of course, and stir-fry, and sushi, and black-eyed peas, and sauerkraut, and fish and chips and Greek good too, and the pita, and locks, and grits, too -- I am a southern boy, afterall, a southern farmer, who worked the tobacco fields as a boy from six a.m. until dusk, working my fingers to the bone, working beside the African American workers, the heroes of America, who we used to call 'darkies' when I was a boy -- damn that word to hell for ever -- and I would walk all the way home after that long day of work and I'd be too tired to eat, and I'd crawl in to bed, with blisters on my hands and feet, my back aching, and my old grandmama would sing to me 'In My Old Kentucky Home' -- and then she would tell me stories about how hungry she had been as a child, thinking about her favorite food -- she had been poor, and had raised herself up by her bootstraps -- she was related to Abraham Lincoln, and I, too, am Abraham Lincoln's great great grandson, on my mother's side -- and I would tell my ole grandma about my favorite dinner: Duck a l'orange with basmati rice and artichoke hearts with a good bottle of Langeudoc-Roussillon, perhaps 1994, which was a very good year, superb and intensely flavoured with the balance to last, beautiful and elegant, which has gained complexity with age.  And to top it off, a nice strawberry tart and a cup of fine French roast.

 

      George W. Bush

Is that a dinner or an epitaph...?

 

The audience laughs.

 

      Al Gore

You woulnd't know a good burgundy if it slapped you in the face...!

 

      George W. Bush

If it slapped me in the face, I'd probably figure I was barking up the wrong tree...!

 

The audience laughs louder.

 

Al Gore's face turns red with anger.

 

      Al Gore (whispering to Bush)

My dad could beat up your dad...!

 

The microphone picks up the comment.  Everyone hears it.  The audicne roars.  Al Gore begins to smile, feeling he has topped Bush.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Gentlemen, please.  Let's act like gentlemen...!

 

      Al Gore

Governor Bush couldn't even spell 'gentlemen'. Ask him to spell it...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Vice-President, please!

The audience will now vote on the answer to this question...!

 

Silence in the auditorium.  Members of the audience are holding a remote vote-pack, pushing a button for 1, 2 or 3.

 

There is a whirling music in the background, counting down ten seconds -- music with which Crossmann is familiar.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Time is up!

Let's see where America stands!

 

A graphic goes up on the television screen: Michael Crossmann, 66%; George W. Bush, 23%, Al Gore, 11%.

 

Gore is visibly shaken.

 

      George W. Bush (smiling, to Gore)

Americans don't like French food!  What kind of idiot are you...!

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

I am an educated, intelligent idiot!  Which is more than I can say for you...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

The second question is offered by Richard Benett, from Laredo, Texas.  He asks: 'If you saw a child drowining and you couldn't swim, what would you do?'

      Mister Vice-President?

 

      Al Gore

I'd jump in the water and drown for that child!  Yes, I would, because my faith in the Lord is so strong -- yes, I know it is -- I would give my life to save that child.  Nothing is more sacred to God that children!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Governor Bush?

 

      George W. Bush

Well, I can swim.  I've been swimming most of my life.  So, I'd just pretend that I couldn't swim.  I'd thrash around a bit, so people really believed I coudn't swim -- and then I'd swim over to the child and save her from drowning.  What the public doesn't know is probably not going to hurt them, really, when you think about it...!

 

Light applause from the audience.

 

      Al Gore

Why is there applause for his answer and none for mine?  I think we should hold the applause until everyone answers.  Afterall, the vote is a substitute for the applause, isn't it..?

 

      Jim Lehrer

Yes, it is.  Please, members of the audience, hold your applause, if you will.  Michael Crossmann -- how would you answer this question...?

 

      Crossmann

Well, I would like to think that I would act to save the child's life.  Although, the heroic thing is not always the smartest thing -- in this case it seems that the result would be, automatically, the death of two people instead of one.  A lot depends on the circumstances.  If I am in a boat, I will turn the boat toward the girl and save her that way.  If I have a life jacket in the boat, I will grab the life-jacket and jump in after the girl.  The goal is to save two lives; not to lose two lives.  Panic is never a good idea.  It is best for one to use his head, to solve a problem rapidly but with wisdom.  To use a political analogy: lets say an armed terrorist kidnaps a child.  Do I run toward the terrorist, unarmed?  Or do I use a high-powered rifle with a scope to take out the terroist when he least expects it, thereby saving the child and making the free world safe for democracy...!

 

Crossmann is beaming.

 

The audience applauds wildly.

 

      Crossmann (to Bush and Gore)

I'm starting to get the hang of this...!

 

      Jim Lehrer (to the audience)

Audience, let's vote.

 

The Jeopardy music comes back in again.  The hands of the audience begin to move.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Vote-packs down! 

 

Graphic on the tv screen: Michael Crossmann, 60%; Al Gore, 27%; George W. Bush, 13%.

 

      George W. Bush (under his breath)

Damn!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Questions number three, from Isaac Neshamah, Miami Beach, Florida: "What is 33 plus 2001 minus 1001 plus 1999 plus 1288?"  He adds that this must be done in the head: no paper can be used.

 

      George W. Bush (under his breath)

Damn!  I was afraid there would be a hard one...!  Let the Vice-President go first on this one!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Vice-President?

 

      Al Gore

Is this some kind of mystical, millennium question, Jim?  If so, I should turn it over to our resident messiah, Mister Crossmann -- the man, who, at times, seems to be made of numbers, as some men are made of straw and others of tin and others of cheese....

 

A segment of the audience laughs loudly.

 

      Jim Lehrer

You don't know, in other words?

 

      Al Gore

Well, not without paper

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Crossmann?

 

      Crossmann

Well 33 plus 2001 is 2034.  2034 minus 1001 is 1033.  1033 plus 1999 is 3032. 3032 plus 1288 is 4320.

 

      Jim Lehrer

4320 is the correct response.

 

The audience applauds.

     

      Jim Lehrer

Anything you'd like to say about the Vice President's crack about your mystical nature...?

 

      Al Gore

Excuse me, Jim.  It was not intended to be a 'crack' -- but a genuine concern I would like to raise about this man's fitness to serve as the most powerful man in the world!  I mean, this man is clearly unbalanced....!

 

      Jim Lehrer

He would probably say that he is, in fact, the balance.  He has said so in print, as far as that goes....

 

      Al Gore

He has also said that he is Michael the Archangel.

 

Gore supporters whoop in the auudience.

 

Now, psychiatrists would have a field-day with that!  What is the difference between saying that your are Hitler or Napoleon or Michael the Archangel...?

 

      Jim Lehrer

We should let him respond to that.  Mister Crossmann, how would you answer your opponent's question?

 

      Crossmann

It seems clear to me that claiming an archangelic heritage is quite different than claiming to be another historical character.  Clearly, Hitler or Napoleon, as humans, make no claim to eternal life, as mortal characters -- the archangelic nature, on the other hand, does make a claim to endurance, in the spirit, from the beginning until the end of day.  The archangelic nature is the first born and the last to leave; and it endures until the world is dissolved.  The archangelic nature can be contacted on occasion; and this nature is our own true nature, the nature of each of us, the being that we are, in reality, the being of light.

      Each 'Day of Brahma' or Period of Activity lasts 4,320,000,000 mortal years; each 'Night of Brahma' or Period of Rest lasts the same.  That is, 8,640,000,000 mortal years.  360 Day/Nights of Brahma makes up a year of Brahma, or 311,040,000,000 mortal years....

 

Stunned silence from the audience.

 

      George W. Bush

He did that in his head?

 

      Al Gore

You see what I mean!  Do you want a man like that to have his finger on the button of nuclear annihilation...!

 

The Gore Faction begins to hoot, standing up, signaling 'thumbs down'!

 

The man is a right-wing extremist!  He is a religious fanatic!  He wants to bring about the apocalypse...!

 

      George W. Bush

No, I don't!  I'm a uniter, not a divider!

 

      Al Gore

What is 17 divided by 3?

 

      George W. Bush

I don't know!  I told you I was not a divider!  17 plus 3 is 20...!

 

George W. is beaming; his supporters erupt in applause.

 

      Al Gore (to Bush, pointing to Crossmann)

He is the divider!  He is the religious fanatic!  He is patently anti-democratic!  His plan, and he has written about this, is to overthrow the democratic rule of America, and lead this great country into the sin of empire.  He wants to be an emperor...!

 

The orchestra breaks into Beethoven's E-Flat Major, Opus 73, piano concerto.

 

      Jim Lehrer

I didn't hear him say that?

 

      Al Gore

You're protecting him, the press is protecting him!

 

      Crossmann

 

Who is it in the press that calls on me?

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,

Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

 

      Al Gore

My God, the man is possessed.

MJC -- Michael John Crossmann -- doesn't stand for Michael/Jesus Christ, as he'd like us to believe. 

It stands for Mephistopheles/Julius Caesar. 

Anyone who has seen him act will understand this explicitly.

The man opposes the Republic.  He writes: 'Who shall be our Caesar?'  He doesn't answer that directly -- but his actions speak louder than words.  He despises liberal humanism.  You can see that in the tone of his voice...!

 

      George W. Bush

Hell, my friends are worried he's a communist!

 

      Al Gore

Perhaps he is!  Perhaps he is!

                       

                        (to Crossmann)

 

Where do you stand on nationalized medicine?

 

      Crossmann

I believe that 'life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness' guarantees us the right to affordable health care..!

 

      George W. Bush

My God, he's a commy!

 

      Al Gore

Communist!  He's a communist!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Haven't you, yourself, Mister Vice President, advocated the same, when you were positioned under the direction of Hillary Clinton...?

 

      George W. Bush (under his breath)

Well, we knocked that bastard off...!

 

      Al Gore

I was never under an erection with Hillary Clinton!  We were friends is all!  And that time that Tipper caught us together in the Blue Room, drinking brandy and laughing -- well, there was nothing wrong with that.  I was just trying to console her!  The woman had been through a lot -- through a lot...!

 

      A Woman in the Audience (standing)

Is it true you forced Tipper to go on a diet -- because you were afraid she looked fat while campaigning with you...?

 

      Al Gore

That is a bold-faced lie!  That is not the truth...!

 

Audience begins to boo Al Gore.

 

Gore, animated, points at Crossmann.

 

See how he's turning the tables!  He uses some kind of alchemical forumula!  He is hypnotizing the audience, turning them against me!  What's wrong, George W?  Am I wearing too much makeup?  Do you think I should wear more earth-tones?  We ran some poles -- people trust other people wearing earth-tones!  Did you know that?  Am I being too aggressive -- or not aggressive enough!  They're turning against us!  Don't you see it...!

 

      George W. Bush

Earth-toned what?  Sports coat?  There are no earth-toned tuxedos, Al -- as far as I know.  Usually black, or white; I've seen some blue ones, not much to look at.  Maybe you should try a brown tie.  Is that what you mean...?

 

      Jim Lehrer

Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down.  This is a presidential debate -- not a hog calling event!  I have some questions of my own.  Please, calm down.  Let's try to have some decorum.  Mister Crossmann, there has been much discussion about your lack of experience for this office.  I mean, you have written a very controversial novel, painted paintings that many people find highly objectionable, you have been a very good teacher apparently; and you have led a group of vigilante students....do you believe that you have 'the right stuff' to be president of the United States?

 

      Al Gore

Good question, Jim.

 

      Crossmann

Well, we have come to believe that only lawyers are qualified to be president.  Of course, you've also noticed that as lawayers have come to dominate the legislative process in America, we have become deluged with laws.  In fact, we have made it almost impossible to live in America without having a lawyer to represent us and to inpret to us the laws.  Lawyers have made themselves a pretty valuable commodity in America -- they have taken care of themselves pretty well as a species, in fact.  I think it has been no accident.  I think we probably have too many laws.  We have too many prisons.  We have too many criminals.  I think we need to make drugs legal and available to adults at a low price.  People who want to wreck their lives with drugs will do so.  But we don't need to fund the mafia by making self-destruction illegal.  We don't need to make ourselves subject to crimes as junkies rob and kill us to feed their habits.  And we don't need to fill our prisons with people who have this self-destructive habit.  It is too expensive for us in terms of funding prisons and in terms of absorbing the abuse of criminals -- and in financing the most vicious segment of our society, organized crime.

 

      Jim Lehrer

You are in favor of legalizing drugs?

 

      Crossmann

Yes.  We should put money into rehabilitation for drug users who want to reform.  But we are making a vast segment of our population criminals with these laws.  We did the same thing in the 1930's with prohibition.  It didn't work.  We couldn't make people give up alcohol.  There are many sides to our puritan heritage I admire.  But we can't force people to be virtuous unless they want to.  That is not to suggest that some laws are needed.  Violent crimes need to be punished very severely.  But I don't like the idea of our laws creating billionaires in Mexico and Columbia and Thailand, because our spoiled citizens need to pollute themselves for a thrill.  Let's take the money -- and its shadow, political power -- out of the hands of the mafia.  Let's improve our schools instead of building prisons.  Let's try to educate people that life without drugs is better that life with drugs.  If we really believe this, then we should be able to convince people of this.  We are a spoiled society.  We have come to believe that pleasure, our personal pleasure, if the end and the goal of life.  That is a perception that I would like to challenge.  The "good life" is a life of meaning, not a life of pleasure.  Again, there our principles our ancenstors, the puritans, brought to America which are useful for us to reconsider.

 

      Al Gore (to George W)

He's burying himself!  He's finished!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Where do you stand on this issue, Mister Vice President?

 

      Al Gore

I am absolutely opposed to the view that we need to become a society of drug users.

 

      Jim Lehrer

I think Mister Crossmann said that we already are a society of drug users.  What is the best way to deal with this?

 

      Al Gore

Fight drugs at every turn!

 

      George W. Bush

Yes, well, some of what Mister Crossmann says does make sense.  But my view is that we need to fight the darkness!  We need to wage war on evil, on corruption!  We can't give in to it!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Do either of you favor a return to prohibition of liquor?

 

      Al Gore

Liquor?  No.  No.  We tried that!  A social drink is not a sin.  No, I don't!

 

      George W. Bush

I advocate a personal prohibition -- because I have had some trouble with the demon rum in my past.  But I don't favor a societal prohibition, a national prohibition.

 

      Jim Lehrer

But, you both agree: for drugs, there is a different story.

 

      Al Gore and George W. Bush

Yes.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Ok.  Let's vote.  Let's see where America stands on this issue.

 

The 'Jeopardy' music comes in again.  The audience votes.  And image comes up on the screen.  Gore: 33%; Bush: 33%; Crossmann: 33%.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Wow!  That's surprising: a dead heat on that issue!  Does that surprise you?

 

      Al Gore

No, Jim.  Not really.  I think the American people just spoke.  66% said they favor to continue an all-out war on drugs.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Yes, but 33% apparently favor Mister Crossmann's view of legalizing drugs and making them cheap and available for adults who want them.

 

      Crossmann

Let's take the mystique out of drugs.  This outlaw, drug culture bravado is a fraud.  Let's wipe out the rebel mystery -- let's keep the cost of drugs low so it won't be a catalyst for violent crime.  We can use the tax on drugs to help fund national health insurance.

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

Holy shit!  Did he say what I think he said?

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

He's dead in the water!  Washed up like a rat on the shore in West Virginia coal country...!

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

He's as bad as Clinton!  As bad as Hillary!

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

You bet, George W!  You bet!  We need to drop this guy like a bag of dirt!  You've got the knife, don't you?  Let him have it when the lights go out!

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

What?

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

Let him have it when the lights go out!

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

Let him have what?  He's a damn liberal, just like you, Gore!  Just like your boss, Clinton...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

I think we'd all like to hear a response to that.  Mister Vice President, your administration tried desperately to construct a national health insurance plan -- and it was almost the death of the democratic party.  A lot of opposition to this idea in America.  What is your position?

     

      Al Gore

Well, Jim -- it was never my position to have national health insurance.  We need to have working Americans covered by their employers.  That's the best way for it to work.  Those Americans who can't work, who aren't working -- well, yes, they do need some help.  But, I'm not in favor of a big bureaucratic response in Washington to this need.  I don't want to grow government to find this solution.

 

      George W. Bush (smiling)

I really can't believe what I am hearing.  Al Gore has always been the liberals liberal.

 

      Al Gore

Don't call me a liberal -- I have never been a liberal.  I have always been a progressive...!

 

      George W. Bush

What's that mean?  Does that mean you're a liberal whose afraid to call himself a liberal?

 

      Al Gore

A progressive -- I'm surprised I have to define the word for you, governor -- is a man who believes in progess: social progress, economic progress, political progress....  We don't believe that government is going to solve all of our problems.  But we believe government can step in and help where we need help.  To ensure equality and progress for all Americans regardless of race or creed or sexual preference...!

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

There goes Al, fishing for the 'homosexual vote;...!

 

      Crossmann (to Bush)

He's very adept at pandering.  He'll be paying homage to left-handed Americans before the night is through, pandering to their vote...!

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

You got that right!

 

      Jim Lehrer (to Gore)

So, you are against national health insurance?

 

      Al Gore

Yes, Jim -- for now I am.

 

      Jim Lehrer

For now -- does that mean your view might change?

 

      Al Gore (laughing)

Well, we never say never in politics.

 

      Crossmann

He needs to see what the next poll tells him.

 

                        Bush laughs genuinely.

 

      Al Gore

Wait a minute.  What is he suggesting?  That I follow the polls?  Well, I am a public servant.  I serve the public.  The public tells me what to do -- and I do what I'm told.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Are you saying that the public is always right?  That, as president, you would do whatever the public told you to do...?  You would follow the polls and do whatever the polls told you...?

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

It worked for Bill Clinton.

 

      Al Gore

Well, I'd...of course it would depend on the poll and on the issue....

 

      Jim Lehrer

If the majority of Americans are against abortion, would you nominate a Supreme Court Justice who opposed abortion...?

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

I like this guy...!

 

      Al Gore

Well, no.  I mean -- I would listen to the American public, yes.  But, on abortion, no -- I have to listen to the women of America on this issue...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

The latest polls I've seen show that American women are split on the issue.

     

      George W. Bush

He's a liberal!

 

      Al Gore

No I'm not!  I'm a progressive!  A progressive!

 

      Jim Lehrer (to Bush)

Where do you stand on abortion?

 

      George W. Bush

I'm against it!

 

      Jim Lehrer

On national health insurance?

 

      George W. Bush

I'm against it!

 

      Jim Lehrer (to the studio audience)

Very well.  We're not going to ask you to vote on these issues.  We are going to ask you: If you had to vote today for one of these three men as President of the United States, who would you vote for?

 

The 'Jeopardy' music comes back in.  The audience votes.  A graphic comes up on the screen.  Crossmann, 46%; Bush, 33%, Gore, 21%.

 

This number for Crossmann is up over an earlier poll we ran this evening in which Crossmann led 41% to 31% for Bush to 28% for Gore.

 

Michael, where do you stand on the question of following or leading the public?  What is the nature of the presidency -- is it to lead public opinion or to follow it...?

 

      Crossmann

Well, in a democracy, the relationship requires a bit of give and take.  The president needs to have a sense of what Americans want.  I'm not sure the polls tell us that -- I should not be too hard on the polls tonight, however, since they have me leading this race.  But I think the polls have become something not so healthy in American politics.  We saw President Clinton respond to polls like he was a Grand Prix driver and the American populace was the road.  But being popular is not what leadership is about.  Being a leader requires that one follow his soul and provide informed judgments. 

 

      Al Gore

He's a dictator at heart -- everyone thinks so...!

 

      George W. Bush

What kind of potato...?

 

      Crossmann

A leader leads.  A leader says: 'This is what I think.  I hope you're willing to follow me.'  Of course, if the public becomes unwilling to follow him, then they elect someone else...  A leader teaches the public his value system -- he doesn't pander to the public, for the sake of maintaining his power...!

 

      Al Gore

He's anti-democratic!  He's an elitist...!

 

      Crossmann

Who is an elitist?  I'm the only one here tonight who didn't go to a prep school; and who didn't attend an ivy league school.  I am from the heart of the country, southern Wyoming.  I am not a rich kid.  I've had to work for a living all my life.  Both of my oponents are part of the ruling class of America.  Both have lived a life of privilege.  I am not against that.  I'm just pointing it out...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

I have another question.  What worries you most about the other candidates?  Governor Bush?

 

      George W. Bush

What worries me most about Vice President Gore is that he is just another Bill Clinton in wolf's clothing.  What they really want most --- liberals like Clinton and Gore -- is to cast....cast....castigate businessmen.  These kind of men think they're better than the rest of us.  They're intellectuals.  They always know what's right.   They look down their nose at those of us who are good at making money with their hands....

 

      Al Gore

Oh, and you made money with your hands!

 

      George W. Bush

They want government to become the major employer of Americans.  They want the government to become a big cow with these big teats, nipples all over, a big mama cow -- and they would like every American be allowed to step up to the big cow and give a huge, big suck on one of those big titties and have the milk come out all white and oozy; and then everyone could go home, feeding off the big cow, which is the government.  And how does the government get so big.  By taxing the rich -- that's what makes the cow big and fat.  He wants the government to be a fat cow that gives milk away for free.  And all the rich families will have to give up their billion dollar estates and will have to live like the rest of Americans -- that's what he wants. 

 

      Jim Lehrer

And Michael Crossmann?

 

      George W. Bush

I don't know about him.  He scares me when he starts talking about national health insurance and legalizing drugs -- but then he doesn't scare me when he talks about the death penalty and abortion....  He had a youth of radical political ventures, venturas -- he once subscribed to a communist newspaper; and he voted for that Communist Party candidate one year, Gus Hallstrom!  But he seems alright now!  I think he has his head on straigh now!  He cares about education, and obeying the law...!

 

      Al Gore

I am the only candidate who supports abortion -- who supports the woman's right to kill any fetus that is growing in her body!  That's a woman's right..!

 

      George W. Bush

This man, Crossmann, is a supporter of a strong military.  And he is a supporter of business interests.  He is an American now.  Vice President Gore is more concerned about how he appears to Europeans than who he is as an American.  Crossmann isn't that way.  He's one of us...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

And his mysticism?

 

      George W. Bush

At least he believes in God.   There are the true believers; and there are the mystics; and there are the atheists.  I'd rather have a mystic marry my daughter than an atheist!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Are you suggesting that the Vice President is an atheist?

 

      George W. Bush

He won't admit it -- but, yes,  sure.  Everybody knows it!

 

      Al Gore

I will have you know that Billy Graham is a family friend.  We pray together every time he comes to visit my family...!

 

      George W. Bush

Bill Clinton taught Al Gore that perceptions are everything.  That if the press photographs you every Sunday carrying a Bible out of church with your wife and daughter, it won't matter what you do in the White House with your interns and other women visitors to the White House.

 

      Jim Lehrer

This brings up an interesting point.  How much of your campaign is an anti-Bill Clinton campaign?  You have seemed to bend over backwards not to mention President Clinton's name?  Does the impeachment, the sex scandal and the lies -- does it all just leave a bad taste in your mouth, one you are trying to get over -- or is it a major issue in this campaign...?

 

      George W. Bush

I think it is a major issue.   Willful arrogance in the White House is not acceptable.  Moral contagion is not acceptable...!

 

      Al Gore

You're a recovering alcoholic!

 

      George W. Bush

I'm not a rapist!

 

      Al Gore

I'm not a rapist!

 

      George W. Bush

No, but your predecessor is.  I didn't see you standing up for morality all those years.  You kept your mouth shut and talked about the man's innocence.

 

      Al Gore

The American public was on his side!  What did you think I should do -- turn on him for the sake of principle?  If the polls had turned against him, I would have to.  He would have expected me to.  We're practical men, afterall.  You admire pragmatism, too, W.  I know you do...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

What about the claims that you ran the White House like a bordello, inviting wealthy guests to spend the night with courtesans -- as long as they paid hefty hotel fees for their pleasure?

 

      Al Gore

I've never heard such claims!  What are they talking about!   It wasn't my idea!  It was Clinton's idea!  He was a businessman at heart!  He knew how to attract the beautful people -- and how to rake in the bucks!  I've go to give him that...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Did Bill Clinton do irreparable harm to the republic!

 

      Al Gore

No -- what, are you kidding!  He'll be remembered as one of the great presidents of our age!

 

      Jim Lehrer

For what?  What was his greatest accomplishment?

 

      Al Gore

Well, he only had one accomplishment really.  The deficit -- he cut the deficit!  He got Barbra Streisand to perform at the White House!  That was pretty good too.  I have a thing for Barbra.  And....and.... Well, that was pretty much what he did.   And the economy....

     

      Jim Lehrer

The deficit -- and the economy.  Traditionally, those are republican issues.  Clinton gained power -- and the Democrats came back to life -- by claiming Republican territory -- isn't that what happened?  The democrats shifted way to the right.  Clinton turned out to be a very conservative Democratic president, didn't he? 

 

      Al Gore

The whole world shifted to the right.  Yes, it was tragic -- what happend in Eastern Europe. ...

 

      Jim Lehrer

What do you mean, tragic?

 

      Al Gore

Did I say tragic -- I said magic. Didn't I say magic...?

 

      George W. Bush

A commie in cow's clothing...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

When did this shift take place?

 

      Crossmann

1984.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Why 1984?

 

      Crossmann

That was when the messiah came.  To the subtle spheres.  That was when Armageddon was won by the West.  The East, the Darkness, was defeated....

 

      Al Gore

See, he's dangerous!  He's like Areil Sharon!  He's motivated by a mystical vision of the world!  He's a little bit insane, isn't he?  He's to the right of old Solzhenitsyn, who was to the right of the

 

      George W. Bush

I don't remember what year it was exactly.  But what he says is mostly true.  God sent his angels down to de-throne the powers of darkness...

 

      Jin Lehrer

Liberalism, you mean?

 

      George W. Bush

Radical liberalism!

 

      Al Gore

Don't look at me!  I'm not a liberal!  I'm a progressive!  I'm a liveral humanist...!  I'm sorry, not a liberal humanist!  A livable humanist!  A liveability humanist -- because I am, indeed, concerned with livability issues....!

 

      George W. Bush

A libertine humorist...!

Does he still believe that we should all give up our cars...?

 

      Al Gore

I am proud to be an environmentalist!

 

      George W. Bush

Did you invest the environment too!

 

      Al Gore

That is a low blow!  That's what he wants!  He wants us to turn against each other!  We turn against each other, destroying each other -- and then he fills the void, this Caesar from Wyoming, this Caesar from Oregon...!

 

      George W. Bush

Sid Caesar!  Did you ever watch Sid Caesar...?

 

      Al Gore

Yes, I did!  I did!  I felt the man was a comic genius...!

 

      George W. Bush

What about the environment!  Are we going to have to give up our cars...?

 

      Al Gore

Yes, maybe we are.

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

Oh!  He's finished!  That's the end of him!

 

      Al Gore

Well, I don't know!  I don't know what to say!  It may be possible we will have to give up our cars, in favor of public transportation!  With this global warming, we may have the civilized world, as we know it, come to an end!  So, yes, no matter what people like to hear, we may have to face a very dark future, ecologoically speaking...!

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

He's a Venetian sausage caught in a can of cords!

A Venezuelan sausage being passed around by a couple of queers!

 

      Crossmann (to Bush)

Vienna sausage, I think you mean.

 

      George W. Bush (to Crossmann)

Yeah, that's it!  I love those little things!  Vienna sausages passed around with a coupla cans of Coors...!  That's what I like!  At a baseball game!  With a bit of mustard too -- on the end of them sausages!  Not the brown mustard, the yellow mustard!  Not that damn poupon stuff!  It's too damn sweet...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

 

That's a pretty gloomy picture, Mister Vice President!

 

      Al Gore

Well, Jim -- I'm an optimist!  I think we can avoid all that!  But I think the only way we can avoid it is to use our reason, our science, and deal with the reality we are seeing.  Both of my opponents have chosen to deny this reality.  Governor Bush says that there is no global warming.  He argues with the handfull of academics who claim that the warming will be a good thing, will make the earth even richer agriculturally.  I mean, talk about your rose-colored glasses.  Talk about your Rosie Scenario...!

 

He smiles a pallid smile as his supporters applaud his wit.

 

And Mister Crossmann brings up these other scenarios, scenarios of a mystagogue.  He argues that continents are being prepared below the ocean, and will be thrust above the waters when the Earth is ready to provide them for us.  He argues that the Earth knows best -- and the Earth is evolving us.  Humans are like cells in the body of the Earth.  That's what he tells us.  We can't know the big picture -- because we are cells which compose the Earth's body.  He argues this while denying that we are running out of resources -- that all of civilization faces the end of order, the end of wealth.  Sheer denial!   We have polluted our house; now our house will fall down under the sheer weight of our sins...!

 

      Crossmann

He's beginning to sound like an Old Testament prophet!

 

      George W. Bush

Al the Pal!

 

      Crossmann

Al the Providential!

 

      George W. Bush

Al the Lunatical!

 

      Crossmann

Al the Heretical!

Albert the Draconian Filbert!

 

The audience laughs shyly.

 

      Al Gore

That's funny?  That is funny?  They make fun of me, and call me names -- and you laugh.  People have laughed at me for years.  They used to laugh at my knee socks!  They used to laugh at my stiff jaw!  They have called me Mister Roboto and The Mask Without a Face!  The have called me Tipper's Flipper and Tipper's Kipper!  What's new?  Bullies always pick on the smart kid!  That's part of the American Dream, I guess!  Laugh!  Laugh it up!  Crossmann calls me a nut -- isn't that a bit like the black pot calling the black kettle black...?

      They say I'm dull, boring, can't laugh!  Well let me tell you Mister, well, both of you -- I did some swinging back in my youth!  I had some girlfriends!  I did the Dutch Door Sex Treat and all of that!  I smoked pot!  Yes, I smoked pot like a fiend!  Day and night -- for maybe five years!  I was a bit of a devil then -- I admit that!  I have become boring because of experience!  I have earned my roboticism...!

 

      George W. Bush

From eroticism to robotocism in ten easy years...!

 

The audience laughs.

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

You have the gall to laugh at me!  You, the one who can't even speak for a minute without lacerating the English language!

 

Did you not say these things, Mister Golden Mouth, friend of Big Oil...?

 

Gore  takes something from his suit pocket.  It is a roll of paper, a scroll.  He lets the scroll fall to the floor, holding the top of the paper:

 

"Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?"

 

"I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family."

 

"Will the highways on the Internet become more few?"

 

"If you're sick and tired of the politics of cynicism and polls and principles, come and join this campaign."

 

"I understand small business growth. I was one."

 

"If the East Timorians decide to revolt, I'm sure I'll have a statement."

 

"We ought to make the pie higher."

 

"The most important job is not to be governor, or first lady in my case."

 

"This is still a dangerous world.  It's a world of madmen and uncertainty and potential mental losses."

 

"The administration I'll bring is a group of men and women who are focused on what's best for America, honest men and women, decent men and women, women who will see service to our country as a great privilege and who will not stain the house."

 

The audience is roaring.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Ok, Mister Vice President -- I think we get the point.  You are saying the governor can't think on his feet very well.

 

      George W. Bush

You'd better get me a chair, Jim.  I do better when I'm sitting...!

 

The audience roars even louder.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Does this make him unfit to be president?  Is articulateness what the presidency is all about?  Is it about policy or about appearances...?

 

      Al Gore

It's about appearances!  Hell, yes.  Bill Clinton told me: 'It doesn't matter what you do.  It's how you appear.  If you are not confident, you have to seem confident.  If you are not informed, you have to prentend to be informed.  Appear at a church every Sunday with a Bible in one hand and you wife and daughter in the other, and the American people will believe anything!'

 

      George W. Bush

Hey, I already used that line!

 

      Crossmann (under his breath)

Mutt and Jeff!

 

      George W. Bush

What?

 

      Crossmann

Cassius and Brutus!

 

      George W. Bush

Don't go there, friend!  That's not a place that you wish to be.

 

      Crossmann

Cassius and Brutus form the two bottom points to the unfinished triangle.  Antony forms the apex; thereby he completes the triangle, A B C.

 

      Al Gore

Did you hear that!  And that man calls me a filbert!  If I'm a filbert -- then he's a damn walnut!

 

      George W. Bush

A pionion nut!

 

      Al Gore

A cashew!

 

      George W. Bush

A pistachio!

 

      Al Gore

A macadamia!

 

      George W. Bush

A nigger-toe!

 

An offended hush runs through the audience.

 

      Al Gore

Well, you don't have to get vulgar, W!

 

      George W. Bush

I meant nothing offensive about it!  I like nigger-toes!  Uh, I don't know their other name!  I don't know what to call it -- politically correct ones -- words -- verbum...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

We are running out of time.  Mister Vice President, what concerns you about your opponents?

 

      Al Gore

Oh, my turn?  Well, George W -- I'm concerned about how our friends in Europe will see us, see the country.  I mean, the man can't even construct a clear, gramatically-correct sentence.  He's an embarassment, in fact.  He's the laughing-stock of the educated world.  The Europeans respected Clinton because he was well-read and well-spoken.  I'm afraid they won't like us any more, won't respect us, if George W. is elected.  I think that's what worries me most about George W.  And the environment, of course.  He's buddies with big oil -- he and his vice presidential candidate.  They think its in America's best interest to make billionaires out of his friends.  No, he'll destroy the environment -- no doubt it...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

And Mister Crossmann...?

 

      Al Gore

Well, Crossmann scares me even more.  He's a bit liek the Ayatollah Khomeini.  He's got that dark streak which makes him, well -- maybe attractive to the women -- maybe even to some men -- I now some gay men who like his looks -- and some straight men too who tell me they trust him for some reason -- he's an androgynous type of person: the men like him because he's a bit of a girl, a poet, and artist and all; and the women like him because he's masculine too.  Like Mick Jagger, you know.  Or David Bowie.  I think he's conversant with the devil.  Have you seen his friend, that man he calls the Magician.  If I've ever seen a devil on the earth, that's him.  His brother -- I mean, his brother is friends the the Uni-Bomber!  With Koresh and that other bomber, Mc Veigh!  Well, you don't convict a man for having a crazy brother, do you -- or Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter would both be spending the rest of their lives in prison...

 

      George W. Bush

Hillary Clinton too!

 

      Al Gore

Yes, you are probably right!  I think Crossmann is anti-democratic.  He has that lean and hungry look!  We know he was a revolutionary in his youth!  But he was a good revolutionary in those days -- against the war, against racism, against poverty!  Now he's on the other side!  I have dreams about Michael Crossmann -- and they are pretty scarry, indeed...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

And how do you think our friends, the Europeans, would respond to him...?

 

      Al Gore

Well, they already love him -- he's an artist, and a writer.  Oh, yeah -- they'd love him!  But they'd be taken in by a mystagogue!  It has happend before!  Remember 1937...?

 

      Jim Lehrer

What about 1937?

 

      Al Gore

That was when Hitler came to power!

 

      Jim Lehrer

No, Hitler came to power earlier than that.  I think it was 1933.

 

      Al Gore

No, I think you're wrong, Jim.

 

      Crossmann

No, Jim is right.

 

      George W. Bush

Don't look at me!

 

      Al Gore

Well, I'm pretty sure you're both wrong!

 

      Crossmann

Hitler was named Chancellor in 1933.

 

      Al Gore

Well, I guess you should know!  You seemed obsessed with Hitler in your book!  For all I know, you probably think you are Hitler reincarnated...!

 

Gore supporters laugh.

 

1937 was when Hitler invaded Poland.  That's right...!

 

      Crossmann

No, he invaded Poland in 1939.

 

      George W. Bush

Don't ask me!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Yes, 1939.

 

      Al Gore

God, Jim -- you're a stickler for detail all of a sudden!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Michael Crossmann -- now it's your turn.  What worries you most about your opponents?

 

      Crossmann

Well, a worry I have about Governor Bush is if he will put business first, business above everything else.  Making a buck will be all that matters.  I'm afraid his belief in the market will allow him to look the other way if his friends in Big Oil find a way to gouge Californians with electricity speculation.  I'm afraid he'll say -- oh, don't regulate, don't control prices!  The free market will decide the right price!  Which is probably true, if there is true competition.  But in the energy sector, and in electricity, there really isn't open competition.  The markets have been pretty much carved up among big interests.  And if those competitors become allies and collude to drive up prices, then the public will be gored again.  And I'm afraid George W won't be able to say no to his compatriots.  That's my biggest worry about George W -- that he will have a hard time being a statesman because of the pressure that will be brought to bear on him by his cronies.

 

      Jim Lehrer

And what about the Vice President?

 

      Michael Crossmann

What worries me the most about the Vice President?  I guess it's that I'm afraid he doesn't know who he is.  And that he doesn't like himself.  During the campaign, he was re-making himself every week, depending on what the polls said.  One day the polls told him to wear a flannel jacket, to look more manly -- and he did.  Then the polls suggested that people trust earth-tones.  So he became an earth-tone person.  Then they told him to be more aggressive.  Then less aggressive.  He was like the puppett, dancing around here and there, begging the American public to like him.  At least George W knows who and what he is.  And where he comes from.  He isn't putting on any airs.  He's not wearing a mask.  And he doesn't spend all of his time apologizing for who he is.

     

      Jim Lehrer

What about Governor Bush's concern that the Vice President is a liberal is sheep's clothing?

 

      Crossmann

Well, sure he is. He calls himself a progressive.  That's a euphemism.  He lives in the anti-universe, the mother's world.  He wants everything to be equal.  Everyone to be treated the same....

 

      Jim Lehrer

Is that so bad?

 

      Crossmann

No.  And there's a time for it.  Death treats everyone equally.  But there's no equality in Nature.  There is freedom in Nature -- but no equality.  Look at the trees, at the flowers, at the animals.  Look at minerals.  Are coal and gold priced the same?  What about platinum and clay?  During the Night, everyone lies down in equality.  But during the Day, everyone gets up and pursues their quest.  This pursuit, this energy, creates inequality.

 

      Jim Lehrer

So you would say that inequality is inherent in Nature?

 

      Al Gore

That's the basis of his racial views!  He's a racist, remember...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

You are not doing very well in the polls among black voters.  Do you think they believe you are a racist...?

 

      Al Gore

African-American, Jim!

 

      Jim Lehrer

Yes, I apologize.  Among 'African-American voters'...

 

      Crossmann

The press has told them that I am a racist.  But I'm not.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Will you campaign in the black communities to change the African-American perception of your candidacy...?

 

      Crossmann

Yes.  Certainly

 

      Jim Lehrer

I didn't let you answer that question about inequality being inherent in nature....

 

      Crossmann

It's a paradox, Jim.  There is inequality inherent in Nature.  Clearly the lamb and the lion are not equal if they fight.  But, also, the lamb has a different life than the lion has.  The lamb has a more peaceful life.  So, if one looks at life in its entirety, there is probably in equality of grace within an apparent inequality of compunction...

 

      Al Gore

What does that mean!

 

      George W. Bush

Don't ask me!  But I like it!  I'd like to use that one.  I like the way it sounds...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

What you get with one hand you give back with another -- is that what your are saying...?

 

      Crossmann

Something like that.

 

      Jim Lehrer

What about your law and order stance?  It's pretty extreme.  You are a believer in the death penalty?

 

      Crossmann

Yes.

 

      Jim Lehrer

For what crimes?

 

      Crossmann

For serial crimes of violence.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Such as...?

 

      Crossmann

Such as murder, forced rape, child molestation.

 

      Jim Lehrer

You say child molestors should be executed.

 

      Crossmann

Serial molestors and rapists.  We don't have to live in fear.  We can get rid of the criminal element.  People whose lifestyle is to abuse others have no place on this earth...!

 

Loud applause from the audience.

 

      Al Gore

That's outrageous!  These people need help, not execution!  I've never heard of such barbarism!  Damn demagogue...!

 

A smattering of applause.

 

      Jim Lehrer

George W -- where do you weigh in on this?

     

      George W. Bush

I think my position is pretty clear.  I'm closer to Mister Crossmann than to the Vice President on this one...

 

      Jim Lehrer

Ok, let's vote again, studio audience.  If you had to elect one of these men president tonight, who would it be...?

 

The 'Jeoparady' music comes in again.  The audience votes.  The graphics come up: Crossmann, 49%; Bush, 32%, Gore, 19%.

 

      Jim Lehrer

I guess there can be no doubt about who is winning this debate!

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

This is it, W!  He's kicking our tails!  We have to take him out...!

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

What?

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

You remember the plan!

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

What plan?

 

      Al Gore (to Bush)

You remember Julius Caesar, the play?

 

      George W. Bush (to Gore)

Oh, yeah -- I almost forgot...!

 

      Jim Lehrer

A question from our audience.  Marge Biehler, from Marietta, Georgia, wants to know -- who is your favorite actor, your favorite actress, and your favorite director, and your favorite movie...?  George W...?

 

      George W. Bush

Favorite actor: Clint Eastwood.  Favorite actress: Sallie Field.  Favorite Director: Alfred Hitchcock.  Favorite Movie: East of Eden.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Mister Vice President?

 

      Al Gore

Favorite actor: Richard Dreyfus.  Favorite actress: Sharon Stone.  Favorite Director: John Wayne -- oh, I mean John Ford.  Favorite Movie: Titanic.

 

      Jim Lehrer

Ok, Mister Crossmann. Your turn.

 

      Crossmann

I have many actors I admire: Robert Duvall, Michael Douglas, Gene Hackman, Jack Nicholson, Ed Norton.  My favorite has to be Robert DeNiro because of the moral intensity he brings to every role.  Favorite actress: Meryl Streep.  Favorite Director: well, it has to be Martin Scorcese, but my favoite young director is Darron Aronofsky.  My favorite movie: The Reflecting Skin.

 

      Al Gore

I've never heard of it!

 

      George W. Bush

Oh, it's a weird one!  Gasoline is a major metaphor in that one.  Fire too...!

 

      Al Gore

He's a damned fire man!  I told you W -- he's straight from hell...!

 

Suddenly, the lights go out.

 

Crossmann feels exposed in the darkness.  He hears Gore and Bush whispering.

 

      Al Gore

Do it now, George W!  Now...!

 

      George W. Bush

What?  Do what now...?

 

      Al Gore

Don't you have your knife...?

 

      George  W. Bush

What knife?  My knife is made out of rubber!  What about you?

 

      Al Gore

I gave my knife away; I could never kill someone.  I don't have the stomach for it...!

 

Then another voice, one that Crossmann doesn't recognize -- almost doesn't recognize -- whispering in Crossmann's ear:

 

      Unknown Voice

You'd better pass out now!  Otherwise, they will arrest you!  You can't know about what happens now...!

 

Crossmann slips into the cavity of the podium -- then he leans it down, like a coffin -- curling inside in the fetal position.  He listens to the running, the movement, around him in the darkness.  Then everything grows silent.

 

Finally, a voice:

 

Where is he?  Where is Crossmann...?

 

The voice sounds familiar. It sounds like Scorcese's voice.

 

Where did he go?

 

Then his wife's voice comes in:

 

Look under that coffin!

 

Light comes rushing in.

 

The Magician is raising  the lid.

 

      Scorcese

Michael, up again!  Up!  Get rid of that damn coffin! We don't need that yet!  Ten seconds!  Michael, look like a damn emporer now!  You're Julius Caesar for Christ's sake -- the most powerful man in the world...!

 

Crossmann rises, brushes off his Roman skirt.

 

Places!

 

The curtain rises.

 

 

 

                                    Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above.

 

                                    A crowd of people; among them Artemidorus and the Soothsayer. 

 

                                    Flourish.  Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius Brutus, Metellus

                                    Cimber, Trebonius, Cinna, Antony, Lepidus, Popilius, Publius and others.

 

      Caesar (To the Soothsayer)

The ides of March are come.

 

      Soothsayer

Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

 

      Artemidorus

Hail, Caesar! read this schedule.

 

      Decius Brutus

Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread,

At your best leisure, this his humble suit.

 

      Artemidorus

O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit

That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar.

 

      Caesar

What touches us ourself shall be last served.

 

      Artemidorus

Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly.

 

      Caesar

What, is the fellow mad?

 

      Publius

Sirrah, give place.

 

      Cassius

What, urge you your petitions in the street?

Come to the Capitol.

 

                                    Caesar  goes up to the Senate-House, the rest following.

 

      Popilius

I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.

 

      Cassius

What enterprise, Popilius?

 

      Popilius

Fare you well.

 

                                    Advances to Caesar.

 

      Brutus

What said Popilius Lena?

 

      Cassius

He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive.

I fear our purpose is discovered.

 

      Brutus

Look, how he makes to Caesar; mark him.

 

      Cassius

Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.

Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,

Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back,

For I will slay myself.

 

      Brutus

Cassius, be constant:

Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes;

For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.

 

      Cassius

Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus.

He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

 

      William Crossmann as Antony (to                 Crossmann)

Remember the way out.

The only way out is down through the basement!

 

      Crossmann

You leave, then, with Carruth?

 

      William Crossmann

Not for long I leave.

But for simplicity's sake.

 

                                    Exeunt Antony and Trebonius

 

      Decius Brutus

Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go,

And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.

 

      Brutus

He is address'd: press near and second him.

 

      Cinna

Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

 

      Caesar

Are we all ready? What is now amiss

That Caesar and his senate must redress?

 

      Metellus Cimber

Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,

Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat

An humble heart,--

 

                                                Kneeling

 

      Caesar

I must prevent thee, Cimber.

These couchings and these lowly courtesies

Might fire the blood of ordinary men,

And turn pre-ordinance and first decree

Into the law of children. Be not fond,

To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood

That will be thaw'd from the true quality

With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,

Low-crooked court'sies and base spaniel-fawning.

Thy brother by decree is banished:

If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,

I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.

Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause

Will he be satisfied.

 

      Metellus Cimber

Is there no voice more worthy than my own

To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear

For the repealing of my banish'd brother?

 

      Brutus

I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar;

Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may

Have an immediate freedom of repeal.

 

      Caesar

What, Brutus!

 

      Cassius

Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon:

As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,

To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

 

      Cassius

I could be well moved, if I were as you:

If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:

But I am constant as the northern star,

Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality

There is no fellow in the firmament.

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,

They are all fire and every one doth shine,

But there's but one in all doth hold his place:

So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,

And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;

Yet in the number I do know but one

That unassailable holds on his rank,

Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,

Let me a little show it, even in this;

That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,

And constant do remain to keep him so.

 

      Cinna

O Caesar,--

 

      Caesar

Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?

 

      Decius Brutus

Great Caesar,--

 

      Caesar

Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

 

      Casca

Speak, hands for me!

 

                                    Casca  first, then the other Conspirators and Brutus stab Caesar.

 

Andrew Tucker approaches Crossmann from the rear and thrusts a rubber dagger into Crossmann's back.  'Bastard' he mutters at Crossmann, sticking the hilt of the rubber dagger into Crossmann as hard as he can.  Kwadwo Fordjour next with a knife, the black man who looks like Lou Rawls.  His knife is also made of rubber.  He stabs Crossmann.  Crossmann goes down to one knee.  George W. is next, moving in awkwardly, not excited about killing the king.  He stabs Crossmann gently with a rubber knife.  Crossmann looks back at Bush:

 

      Caesar

       Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.

 

                                                                                    Crossmann

                                                                        You, too, my son!

 

Crossmann falls to the floor of the stage.

 

                                    Caesar dies.

 

A bald-headed John Preston, dressed as Publius, moves in to help Crossmann rise.  He lifts Crossmann up off the stage; and then he whispers a word in Crossmann's ear: 'Rosebud.'  Then he sinks a steel blade into Crossmann's right side, cutting open his flesh.  Crossmann falls back to the stage.  Preston whispers to Crossmann: "Gentle release!"

 

Then Preston runs to the edge of the stage, leaps down in to the audience.  His foot catches in a banner hung beyond the orchestra pit; and he falls, injuring his leg.   He limps up the aisle and out of the auditorium.

 

The music from Faust, the witches scene, Walpurgis Night, comes up.  Crossmann looks up.  He touches his wound: his left hand is covered with his blood.  'Don't move!' someone yells.  It sounds like Scorcese.  'You're supposed to be dead!'

 

      Cinna

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!

Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

 

      Cassius

Some to the common pulpits, and cry out

'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!'

 

      Crossmann

Stop!  I am wounded!

 

      Brutus

People and senators, be not affrighted;

Fly not; stand stiff: ambition's debt is paid.

 

      Casca

Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

 

      Decius Brutus

And Cassius too.

 

      Brutus

Where's Publius?

 

      Cinna

Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

 

      Crossmann

George W: call an ambulance!

 

      Mettelus Cimber

Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's

Should chance--

 

      Al Gore

Don't even think about it, W!  You're up to your knees in blood, as it now stands!  We'll get rid of the body!  No one even knows he's here!  We'll do another Jimmy Hoffa...!

 

      Brutus

Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer;

There is no harm intended to your person,

Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.

 

      Cassius

And leave us, Publius; lest that the people,

Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.

 

      Brutus

Do so: and let no man abide this deed,

But we the doers.

 

                                    Re-enter Trebonius.

 

      Cassius

Where is Antony?

 

      Trebonius

Fled to his house amazed:

Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run

As it were doomsday.

 

      Brutus

Fates, we will know your pleasures:

That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time

And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

 

Cassius

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life

Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

 

      Brutus

Grant that, and then is death a benefit:

So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged

His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,

And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood

Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:

Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,

And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,

Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

 

Cassius

Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence

Shall this our lofty scene be acted over

In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

 

      Brutus

How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,

That now on Pompey's basis lies along

No worthier than the dust!

 

      Cassius

So oft as that shall be,

So often shall the knot of us be call'd

The men that gave their country liberty.

 

      Decius Brutus

What, shall we forth?

 

      Cassius

Ay, every man away:

Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels

With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.

 

                        Enter a Servant

 

      Brutus

Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's.

 

      Servant

Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel:

Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down;

And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:

Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;

Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:

Say I love Brutus, and I honour him;

Say I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him and loved him.

If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony

May safely come to him, and be resolved

How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death,

Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead

So well as Brutus living; but will follow

The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus

Thorough the hazards of this untrod state

With all true faith. So says my master Antony.

 

      Crossmann

My own brother speaks in this way!

 

      William Crossmann

Be not afraid for a loss of vengeance!

I shall honor your name in the end!

I shall smash each of these until the world

Forgets their face!

Vengeance shall not ask them once

For a reason!

 

      Brutus

Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman;

I never thought him worse.

Tell him, so please him come unto this place,

He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour,

Depart untouch'd.

 

      Servant

I'll fetch him presently.

 

                                    Servant exits.

 

      Al Gore

We cannot have it so!

Return his body to his brother!

Are you mad!

 

      George W. Bush

The family must have the body to mourn!

 

      Al Gore

You forget the plan!

We have already aborted his frame

 

      Scorcese

Curtain!

 

                        The curtain comes down.

 

Hands on Crossmann.  The Smoking Man is near.  The bald man -- the one who looks like Gordon Liddy -- appears to Crossmann as they turn him on his back.  Lou Rawls.  His wife.  A pair of hands lifting him in the coffin.  A twenty-year-old Palestinian standing in white kitchen clothing.

      'Quick!' Irene says.  'Let's get him out of here...!'

 

The audience is applauding -- cheering wildly.

 

Dick Clark's voice comes through the scarlet curtain:

 

      Dick Clark's Voice

Yes, ladies and gentlemen: We now know who the survivor is!  John Preston!  Michael Crossmann's student at Southwest Eugene High School!  Now, that was a surprise, wasn't it!  Come on out, John!  Come on out and collect your ONE MILLION DOLLARS...!

 

The audience explodes in cheering.

The music from the Walpurgis Night comes up.

 

Crossmann is lifted into the coffin, the overturned podium.  The podium has wheels that allow it to roll.  The usher pushes from the back of the coffin, past actors, discarded costumes and material, to the back of the stage.  Irene is walking beside the coffin -- almost running.  They turn to the back of the stage. 

      Crossmann watches the ceiling pass above him: a large dark opening, with cables and grids.  Then to a shorter ceiling. Moving back toward the elevator. 

      His right side is hurting.  He touches it.  Pain shoots up his body into his jaw.  His hand is sticky with blood.

      Then into the elevator.

      A short white ceiling of squares.

      Crossmann can't speak. He tries to say 'UP' -- 'UP'  -- but nothing comes out.  He can't move.

      He sees Irene push the button to the first floor.

      They are going down.

      Crossmann loses consciousness.

 

Is this a dream?  Is this whole imagery but a composition of fear and shallow sleep mixed together in unequal draughts?  Sleep.  Medicated goo.  The narcotic elixir that God gives us to free us from daylight's tyranny.  Was it me?  Was it them?  Was I real?  Was the knife blade real, reaching around me, tearing open my hip, running up in my right side, guts coming out?

      Nobody knows.

      A man sleeping in the mezzanine at the performance of Gonoud's 'Mass of Saint Cecilia'-- or many years later, on Millenium Eve at the performance of 'Faust'.  Has this anything to do with me?

      A match being lit: sterilizing a needle.  A pimple on my face: I was young; I was in high school.  Thinking about a date -- or something.  The girl next door.  The needle going in to the skin.  Puncturing something.  Blood.  Coming out again....

      A boy's face -- his name.  Whispering something: 'Eureka'!  Whispering something else: 'Rosebud'!  You'd best lie down and pretend you are seriously injured.  You'd best pass out -- otherwise they will arrest you.  John-John -- why have you betrayed me?

'I did what others wished to do!  I did it with love for you!  The world is too sad for you, not good enough for you!  Misery!  That was the word!  I took you away from your misery!  Gentle release!'

      Antony completes the incomplete triangle afterall.  He kills Brutus and Cassius -- and then the republic an empire becomes.  Round and round.

      A prick in his skin.  He feels a prick in his skin.  Not the normal kind of prick.  He feels an erection coming -- almost waking him up.  Leslie!  No, Irene!  With her father.  Her father has his hand up her skirt.  That did not happen really -- but whether or not it happened did not mean nearly as much as that Irene later came to believe it had happened and began hating her father, hating all men really, blaming her father for not fondling her.  It was all rather subtle.  His father did not fondle her, as all other men she came to know had.  Was this a sign he did not love her?  She came to hate him for not loving her, for not fondling her -- and to fight off this fear she had of not loving her father, and, obversely, not being loved by her father, she convinced herself that her father, indeed, had fondled her, thereby proving his love for her.  Now she hates him, instead, for having molested her.  All girls are molested by their fathers.  That was now a truism in her mind.  His molesting her did not prove his love for her -- it just proved that he was a man, was a father.  They were all dirty pigs!  Oh, how hard life had become!

      Another prick.  Leslie?  Not exactly.  Marge changing his costume.  Marge a kind of mother.  Reaching her had inside his shorts.  Making him excited.

      Another prick.

      Maggie Mae.  Wake up, Maggie -- I think I got something to say to you.  It's late September and I really should be back in school.

      Unconvinced by anything.  What is a mosque doing in the middle of New York City?  Jim, tell me that!  Tell me what the white light was coming out of the sky.  How long were we gone?

      Another prick.

      The smell of whiskey,   Mescaline John.  Old Turkey.  A stitch and pull.  Stitch and pull.  An obligation to smell the horrible putrescence of pain.  Where is your key?  Why did you let them take away your gun?

      I don't think so.

      Stitch and pull.

      Stitch and pull.

 

Crossmann is awake.

      He is on a couch in a small apartment.  Television light, reflecting is a dark room, runs across the ceiling, scattering blue light throughout the room.

      "Don't move!"

      "What?"

      "Don't move!"

      "And then Gilligan said to Mary Anme: 'Do you think the Skipper will be mad at me?'  And Mary Anne -- you know I always had sexual fantasies about Mary Anne.  She was so clearn and country-girl in her cut-offs and her pig-tails...!"

      "I'm trying to focus here!"

      A bottle of Wild Turkey: mouth on mouth.  Burning -- lighting Crossmann afire with brown lightning.  Swallowing is hard.

      Stitch and pull.

      A man, a light on his forehead.  A coal miner's hat.  Stitching Crossmann's wound.  Perl, Tuck; Pear; Tuck.  The Magician: sewing Crossmann's wound.  Crossmann tastes blood on his mouth.  The two wounds on his lips from the thorns.  Opening up again.  I need someone to kiss it.  A childish thought.

      Looking around.

      Ralph Nader on the couch, tied up in ropes, his mouth free.  Watching tv.

      "'What happened to him?" Nader asks.

      "Political assassination," the Magician says.

      "The corporations kill him?"

      "Well, he's not dead yet!" the Magician says.  "It's my job to keep him alive."

      "Why?  So he can go on the Springer show?"

      Nader is laughing a maniacal laugh.

      "Are you comfortable in those ropes?" the Magician asks.  "I can untie you..."

      "No," Nader replies.  "I've actually come to appreciate them.  It's better for me when I don't have too many options.  I find it more liberating in fact..."

      The Magician continues his work.  Crossmann looks up at him.

      "I think I'd like my own glasses back now," Crossmann says.

      "You are in no position to make demands!" the Magician says.

      The needle and thread go in again.

      "Is that needle sterilized?" Crossmann asks.

      "I licked it as clean as I could," the Magician replies.  "And my mouth is so saturated with Wild Turkey -- my guess is that nothing will grow in it, good or bad..."

      "Are you sewing up the inside or just  the outside?" Crossmann ask .

      "You'll live.  You may be bleeding urine for a few weeks.  But it's nothing serious!  We have to get you ready for your next appearance...!"

      "What next appearance?"

      "It does not end so easily for you, my friend.  You have a few more miles to go -- before the inevitable happens...!

      "The inevitable being what?"

      "Don't be coy, Mister Marvel!  I know you too well for tasteless play...!"

      "Ploy rhymes with coy.  I'm quite amazed aty you uncanny somnambulism!" Crossmann says.

      "You have your wound now," the Magician says.  "This makes you divine!  For you can generate the world; now you can also receive information -- because now you have a womb...!"

      "Are you mimicking me then?" Crossmann asks.

      "No, look at my own!"

      The Magician pulls up his shirt.  On the left side on his body, in his side, under the ribs, is a scare about the same length as Crossmann's new wound.

      "Who gave you that?" Crossmann asks.

      "Why you did -- don't you remember?"

      There is a knock on the door.

      Knock _ Knock - Knock.  Knock.

      No, that's not the right knock! Crossmann thinks.

      "Mister Crossmann.  Five minutes.  Five minutes."

      The Magician looks out the peep-hole.  He sees a studio boy holding Crossmann's key to the city.  Behind him are the three skinheads from the gallery -- the three thugs who have been following Crossmann around the city.

     
"They have come for you," the Magician says, "turning back to Crossmann.  There's nothing I can do...!

      The three skin-heads enter, followed by the studio boy.  The one who looks like John Pearson is the leader.

      "Hey sucker!" Pearson says, with a cheshire cat grin.  "I knew we'd catch up with you again....!"

      He takes the dirty wrag off the sofa -- the one that had been gagging Ralph Nader.  He stops to swtich the channel of the television -- using the remote on the coffee table -- to the Jerry Springer show.

      "Hey, 'Ed' is one now, on the other channel!" Nader mumbles.

      Pearson does not notice Nader.

      He stuffs the dirty sock in Crossmann's mouth.  Then he winds duct tape around his mouth, three turns.

      "Wait a minute!" Crossmann tries to defend himself, muffling weakly -- then he looks beseechingly at the Magician.  The Magician steps into the background of the room, becoming transparent, like gauze.  Then becoming one with the mushroom wallpaper.  Vanishing.

      The three skinheads wrap a rope around Crossmann who is still resting in the overturned podium.  They lash him to his coffin; then they wheel him out of the room.  Down a hallway, into a staging area.

      There is a television on the wall.  Jerry Springer.  He is talking with Irene Crossmann.

 

"So, you began this affair with Marshall Fenton, your lover?"

      "I began the affair in 1973," Irene says.  "Marhsall and I were lovers right away, right after we met..."

      "Were you dating Michael Crossmann at that time?"

      "Not  at first.  I started dating Michael a few months after that."

      "So you were dating two men at the same time?"

      "Oh, Marshall and I weren't dating," Irene says.  "Marshall had a girl-friend.  Marshall was having sex with about five different women at the time.  He was, you know, a stud: a rich-kid, with a fast car, and a lot of women.  His girl-friend was a rich kid too, from the East Coast.   He had decided to marry her because her family had so much money and status.  My family did not have a lot of money.  Oh, we were wealthy -- but not filthy rich like Marshall was -- and his girl friend..."

      "Did Michael Crossmann know you were sleeping with Fenton?"

      "No, never!"

      "He still doesn't know?"

      "I don't think so...!"

      "So tonight he's going to find out for the first time?" Jerry asks.

      "Yes."

      "So you began dating Michael Crossmann in....?"

      "Late 1973."

      "And you were still having sex with Felton all that time?"

      "Yes.  Every Tuesday and Thursday night.  And sometimes on the weekend...!"

      "Was sex not good between you and Michael Crossmann?"

      "No, it was good.  I was just a kind of ....I just lvoed men, I guess!  I was in love with two men...!"

      The audience begins to shou: "Slut!  Slut!  Slut!  Whore...!"

      "Shut up!  I am not a whore!!" Irene replies to the audience. "What do you know about anything!  Sex is normal, natural!  I just had needs I was trying to lfill...!"

      "Yes, quite literally, I guess!" Jerry replies.

      The audience appreciates Jerry's zinger.  They begin to shout in unison: "Jerry!  Jerry!  Jerry!  Jerry...!"

      Springer is beaming.

      "So you got pregnant by Crossmann?" Jerry asks.

      "I'm not sure who it was by!" Irene responds.  "It could have been Marshall...."

      "Anyone else we should hear about?"

      The audience loves that one.

      "What do you mean?" Irene asks.

      "Were you sleeping with anyone else?" Jerry asks.

      "No."

      "No cross-dressing?  No anal sex?  No group sex?  Not sleeping with your brother, your sister?  We need something even more interesting that just a normal affair!  Were you sleeping with your father by chance?  Did you used to masturbate as a young girl while thinking of your father...?"

      "Fuck you, Jerry!" Irene replies.

      "Slut!  Slut!  Spice-Girl Whore!  Father-fucker! Penis-sucker...!" the audience shouts in unison.

      "Fuck you all!" Irene replies.  "I did nothing that most of you haven't done...!"

      "So you were pregnant by one of the two men we will meet tonight?  What happened then...?" Jerry asks.

      "What do you mean?"

      "Well, did you tell both men that you were pregnant?"

      "No.  I told Michael only," Irene responds.

      "Why not both men?"

      "I knew that if I told Marshall he would give me five hundred dollars and tell me to get rid of it -- and that would be the last I would see of him...!

      "And that scared you?"

      "Yes."

      "You didn't want to ruffle his feathers?"

      "No."

      "So you told Michael Crossmann that this was his baby!  And he took you to get an abortion.  Did he ask you to marry him first?"

      "Yes."

      "And you said no?"

      "Yes.  I was just finishing college.  I wasn't ready to get married -- and have a baby!"

      The audience begins to boo.

      "What do you know about anything?" Irene cries to the audience.  "Look at you -- mostly white trash, black trash...!"

      "You are the trash!" an obese Mexican woman yells from the front row.

      "Trash, trash, trash, trash!" the audience begins.

      "So you asked him to help you get an abortion?" Jerry asks.  "Now he was a student at the time, working his way through school.  He didn't have much money -- but still you went to him for the money.  Fenton is rich; you are rich; but you went to a working class kid who was working his way through school?  Do you see the dishonor in that...?"

      "I loved Michael too!" Irene cries.  "He insisted on paying for it!"

      "So, you took money Michael Crossmann didn't have, didn't tell Marshall Fenton about the abortion; and the next weekend you were on a ski holiday in Aspen with Marshall Fenton, spending the weekend with him, having sex with him again -- you told Michael Crossmann that you needed to go visit your aunt in Denver...?"

      "How did you know about that?" Irene responds.

      "We know everything, sister!" Jerry replies.

      "Jerry, you're being pretty hard on her, don't you think?"

      The voice coming from the audience is very familiar to everyone.  It is Oprah Winfrey.

      "Ladies and gentlemen, as part of our celebrity audience tonight, a woman who needs no introduction...Oprah Winfrey...!"

      The audience begins to whoop: "Oprah, Oprah, Oprah, Oprah...!"

      "You're being too hard on her!" Oprah continues.  "Most your girls her age were exploring their sexuality!  I think you are trying to unfairly brand her the villain in all this.  She loved two men.  One of those men loved her.  The other probably didn't.  But she was trying to discover what she needed for her life.  A woman has the right to do that!  You think she should have responded to her condition by marryng a man she didn't love -- and being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen...?  Look at this young woman -- She is sophisticated!  She is smart!  She is from a very good family!  She has choices to make, options!  Why condemn her for...."

      "Playing her hand!" comes a response from the audience.  It is Phil Donahue.  "Yes, I quite agree with Oprah!  Let's not villify this young woman because she chose what was best for her!  The whole notion of abortion is that the woman does have the right to choose what is best for her...?"

      "And what about what's right for the child?" Geraldo Rivera asks from the audience.

      "It's Geraldo Rivera!" Jerry cries.

      The audience applauds.

      "It's not a child!" Oprah cries out.  "It's a....mass of protoplasm!  It's an island of sperm stuck inside an egg...!  The fetus doesn't begin to ...!"

      "That's all semantics, and you know it, Oprah!" Geraldo replies.  "It's murdering a baby!  If you are comfortable with murdering babies, then at least call it be its read name...!

      "Fucking spic Catholic!" Gloria Steinem mutters under her breath.  But the microphone picks it up.

      "What did you call me, you sterile horse!" Geraldo responds.

      "I'm' sorry you heard that, Geraldo!" Gloria replies.  "I was angry!  I'm sorry I said such a thing!  I really didn't mean it -- not the 'spic'part of it, I mean!  Please forgive that...!"

      "Perhaps the baby had leukemia anyway," Montell Williams jumps in.  "Maybe the baby was sick -- so a death may have been the best thing, given the circumstances.   Sometimes tough love....well, sometimes it requires the killing of children.  I don't know.  I'm only speculating now...!"

      "Tough love!" Doctor Laura says, rising from the audience.  "Tough love and killing a defenseless baby!  They should have put her to death, the mother, instead of the baby -- that's the kind of tough love that might have been appropriate.  Spreading your ass around town like it was manure in Kansas!  Slut!  Whore...!"

      The audience picks up the chant: "Slut!  Whore!  Slammin' here and slammin' there!  We wonder what you're livin for!  Close your knees a hundred times; take a hundred from behind...!"

      Jerry smiles with appreciation to the audience, his children.  "I haven't heard that one before."

      "We worked it up last night for you, Jerry!" a pretty girl in the second row explains.

      "Very nice!" Jerry replies.

      Jerry gets a cue from the director.

      "We're gonna have to take a break now from one of our sponsors, Dianna's Dildos.  Are you tired of spending your nights alone?  You've put on an extra row of love handles and no one is calling you anymore?  Well, you can go on a diet or buy a membership to the nearest club.  Or you can call Dianna; and order one of her special numbers.  It's not the real thing.  But it's less painful and expensive that changing your life.  And it will make you smile for a few hours a day.  Guarateed not to wear out.  The harder you work it, the hard it works you.  And, with a special, orgasm trigger that you can actually feel jet liquid inside your body.  And, no chance of getting pregnant.  Here, have a look...!"

 

Crossmann is strapped inside his coffin; and the television is behind him.  He tries to rise; but the wound is too painful on his right side.  One of the ushers pushes him back down.

      "Pipe down, chorus boy!" the usher says under his breath. 

      The uhser looks a lot like Claude Van Dam, the Muscles from Brussels.

      "I just want to see the tv," Crossmann explains.  "I can't see it from here...!"

      Van Dam spins the coffin around using one hand.

      Crossmann now looks up at the monitor.

      A pretty woman is having a sexual moment on the screen.  The audience can tell her hand is moving.  Ecstacy is written all over her face.  Then she begins to scream and moan, wiggling wildly, crying: "Yes!  Yes!  Yes!"

      Then the hand comes in to view, holding a huge Dianna Dildo.  She squeezes the trigger; and warm cream flies into the pretty woman's face, wad after wad.

      She lucks all the cream she can reach with her tongue.  Then she uses her hand, pushing the cream into her mouth.

      "I like banana yogurt," the woman says.  "But you can use whatever you like.  Cream cheese, whipped cream, jam; or, if you have a few willing men friends, you can even use the real thing.  Call now for your next appointment with destiny.  Remember, you don't need a man to make you happy.  Call 1 900 COOKIES!  Get your cookies, baby!  Why -- because you deserve them...!  Your call will cost $4.00 a minute."

 

"We're back!" Jerry cries.

      "This woman, Irene Crossmann, has been screwing two different men for the last twenty-five years.  One of the men is not her husband -- and the husband is going to find out about it tonight.  Ok, Irene.  You had your abortion!  You know that this has haunted your husband for many years!  It was a boy, wasn't it!  Michael Crossmann even named him, in his own mind, Thomas.  Did you know that...?"

      "Yes."

      "Was that silly?" Jerry asks, "naming the boy?"

      "Yes."

      "He always wanted to have a son."

      "Yes.  But he was sterile.  He is sterile...!"

      "So, the truth comes out!! Jerry says.  "Crossmann wasn't the father of Thomas...!"

      "No, that's true!" Irene says.  "I know that now -- but I didn't know it then...!"

      "How do you know it?"

      "We did a DNA test of our daughter, Christina!" Irene replies.

      "Yes; but what about Thomas?"

      "We assumed it about Thomas.  I had a test run on Michael, to see if he was fertile..."

      "When did you do this?" Jerry asks.

      "Many years ago, after Christina was born.  I kept his sperm -- and had it tested..."

      "Jesus, you are like the wife in Presumed Innocent," Jerry says.  "You took the sperm from your vagina after intercourse...?"

      "From my mouth after fellation," Irene corrects.

      So you have known all along that he was not fertile?"

      "Since the late eithties."

 

      "That doesn't probe that Thomas wasn't mine," Crossmann yells.  "I may have become sterile when I was so sick, after Christina's brith...!"

      Of course no one but Van Dam hears him.

      Van Dam mutters again, in his pinched English: "Pipe down, chorus boy!"

      Someone appears in the room with Crossmann.  It looks exactly like Michael Crossmann.

      "Don't worry, it's me!" the man says.  The voice is familiar.  He pulls up his mask: it is the Magician.  "I'm going to play you...!  You won't have to go through all this!  It was your brother's idea -- make then think you are dead...!"

      The Magician opens a doctor's bag.  He extracts a huge syringe from the bag.

      "Don't worry!  It's to fight infection!" he says.

      He jabs Crossmann with the needle, injects the syrum into Crossmann's right arm.  Crossmann is immediately paralyzed.

      "You don't want to be moving too much, open up that wound again..."

 

"So, he can't have children!"

      "No!"

      "He doesn't know this?" Springer asks.

      "Not as far as I know," Irene replies.

      "You are going to tell him tonight that his daughter is not his own daughter -- and that you have been servicing his old friend Marshall Fenton sexually for the last twenty-five years...."

      "Yes.  I have to tell him."

      "Why.  To hurt him?"

      "Yes.  He has hurt me!  With that thirteen-year-old harlot!  I want to hurt him back...!"

      "She is here with us tonight also," Jerry says to the audience.  "So don't go away.  You'll have a chance to meet Little Miss Sophie Tucker, the most famous mouth since Monica Lewinsky, the Cyclone Sweety from Southwest Eugene High School  She's not thirteen any longer -- but you'll see why she put the witch on Michael Crossmann -- I guarantee it...!"

      "Also, he betrayed me!" Irene says.  "Politically!  I was going to be his Joan Baez; he was going to be my Bob Dylan!  Together we were going to change the world!  Make everything right!  But he changed!  He became a fascist!  He killed three teenagers, hanged them!  He really believed he was Michael the Archangel!  He should not be killed, not really; nor put in prison, even if he can't keep his thing out of thirteen-year old girls' mouths!  He really should be put in a mental hospital!  He is a schizophrenic!  Really, he is a schizophrenic!  He should be put away before he hurts anyone else with his extreme ideas...!"

      The audience replies, changing: "Schitzo!  Schitzo!" indicating a respect for Crossmann's insanity.

 

Crossmann studies Irene's face on the screen.  She is beautiful, well-measured.  It seems like a bitter irony that a woman so cultured, so stately, so dignitified, would appear on such a show.  Fame is a dangerous drug.  Even the high can be seduced by the magnetism of fame.

      Crossmann's stomach is hurting.  He tries to say something -- but he can't speak.  He can't move.

 

"Ok, we've heard Irene's side of the story," Jerry says.  "Now let's bring out Michael Crossmann to hear his side of the story...!"

      The audience applauds, clearly on his side.

      "Crossmann, Crossmann, Crossmann, Crossmann!" comes the chant.

      All of the sudden Van Dam is pushing Crossmann's casket through the door and on to the stage.

      Crossmann can see the audience applauding.  Then Jerry Springer is standing over the casket, reaching in, shaking Crossmann's hand -- which is lifeless.

      Jerry turns to the camera.

      "Perhaps some of you were watching the conclusion of 'Survivor: Who Really Killed Julius Caesar' tonight.  Well, if you were, you saw Michael Crossmann killed by, of all people, John Preston, his student back at Southwest High School in Eugene.  Preston, who played Publius in the show, is now one million dollars richer!  Let's hear a round of appluase for John.  He really tricked all of us.  So, Michael Crossamnn is dead -- he's not going to be able to help us much tonight.  But his understudy on the Julius Caesar show, Michael J. Fox , is going to 'play' Michael Crossmann here tonight.  They are great friends apparently.  So we will be able to continue tonight with the wonderful Michael J. Fox sitting in for Crossmann.  You will notice that he looks exactly like Michael Crossmann -- except that he's a bit shorter in stature -- but otherwise they are the same person...."

      Van Dam wheels Crossmann's coffin over to the edge of the stage, tilting him up so he can look out into the audience.  A camera comes in for a close-up.  The audience is cheering wildly.  Crossmann notices a brunette in the second row is screaming wildly, tears coming down her cheeks.

      Then Michael Crossmann appears on the stage, played by Michael J. Fox.

      "Crossmann, Crossmann, Crossmann, Crossmann!" the audience cries.

      "Why are you doing this?" Crossmann asks Irene as he passes, pausing in front of his wife. 

      Irene gets up angrily.

      "You bastard!  I'm glad you are dead!" Irene screams at Crossmann.

      Two bald bodyguards dressed in tight t-shirts step between them, keeping Irene from striking Crossmann.  One bodyguard shows Crossmann his chair.

      "Ok, Michael," Jerry says, "we have asked you here because Irene, your wife, has something she wants to tell you.  Go ahead, Irene...!"

      Crossmann turns to Irene: "You have something to tell me?"

      "Yes," Irene says.  She looks him in the eye.  "I know this will hurt you -- but I have been sleeping with Marshall Fenton since 1973..."

      "What?  I don't understand?" Crossmann says.

      "I have been sleeping with him all throughout our marriage," Irene explains.  "When I went home to New York two or three times a year, it was to see my family -- yes -- but it was also to share Marshall's bed.  We have been together, secretly, all the time you and I have been married..."

      Crossmann is shocked.  Disgusted.

      The audience is now booing; a very loud show of displeasure with Irene.

      "Why?" Crossmann asks, tears welling in his eyes. 

      The cameras come in close to show the tears he is shedding.

      "Because I love him," Irene says.  "I have always loved Marshall...!"

      "But he does not love you," Crossmann says.  "He merely uses you for his pleasure!  He would never marry you..!"

      "You are wrong!  He is going to marry me -- as soon as our divorce is finalized...!"

      "That's a lie!  He just tells you lies to get you on your back...!  I knew Marshall before you did!  And I still know him better than you...!"

      "I have more to tell you!" Irene continues.  "Christina is not your daughter.  She is Marshall's daughter..!"

      "That's a lie!" Crossmann says.

      Boo!  The audience is booing.  Some are standing, signaling thumbs down to Irene.

      "We took a DNA test of Christine!" Irene says.  "Jerry sponsored the tests...!

      "Is that true?" Crossmann asks Jerry Springer.

      "We are going to interview a DNA expert after this next commercial," Jerry says.  "Let's take a break. " 

      Jerry turns to the camera.  "Have you ever had sex with your own mother?  If so, and if you want to expose her finally, after all these years, give us a call!  Have you been raped by your father or by your brother -- or ever by your sister?  We want to hear your story.  Call 1 900 REVENGE.  We want to help you humiliate anyone who took advantage of you.  Call now.  Your call will cost $4 per minute...!"

     

"Zoom, zoom, zoom" a car commercial comes on the screen.  "Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom."  An clean white boy's face opens up with admiration for the Euro-style cars ripping over dynamic landscapes.  He will be happy for the rest of his life if he can only buy one of these cars when he grows up.  Clearly this is what he is living for -- when he will become old enough to buy this car....

 

Crossmann cannot move, standing in his box.  He is even unable to blink his eyes. 

      The pretty brunette keeps mouthing words of love to him: "I love you, Michael!"  "I want to be yours!"  "I want to have your baby -- even if you can't have one!"  "If you want me to hire a hit-man to kill your wife, just nod to me!"

      Crossmann can't move.

      The pretty brunette, about nineteen-years-old, suddenly opens her shirt -- showing Crossmann her breasts.  She purses her lips, pretending to kiss him.

      Crossmann can hear, of course.  Al Gore is in the first row, not far from the brunette with glorious nineteen-year-old breasts.  He has called Jerry Springer over to him -- and he is speaking to Jerry in an anxious tone.

      "We can't make him a victim tonight, Jerry!" Al Gore says.  "He's leading in the polls!  Leading very decidedly!  Do you know what a victory by his kind would do to the America we know and love, Jerry!  It would destgroy us!  You want some damn Ayatollah Crossmann running this country...!"

      "But," Jerry says, "I thought he was dead!"

      "We aren't sure," Gore says.  "We have intelligence that tells us he was wounded only.  He may still be alive.  We aren't sure...!"

      "Well, there he is, in the box!" Springer says.  "Go check his pulse...!"

      "It isn't that simple, Jerry!" Gore says.  "It may not even be him.  He's like Saddam Hussein: he has many people looking like him, trying to confuse us...!"

      "Then that isn't him in the box?" Jerry asks.

      "We aren't sure.  It might be.  But, then again, maybe not...!"

      Springer says: "I need to get back...!"

      "Make him look bad!" Gore says.  "We're in the bunker now, fighting for our political life.  Disgrace him.  But do it subtley -- don't make people feel sorry for him...!"

      "I thought you had the election fixed?" Jerry says.

      "Oh, everything changed.  They caught our man down in Florida with the ballot box.  Nothing is certain now.  Nothing is certain...!"

      The girl opens her blouse again.  Her nipples are pinkish and shy.  Crossmann thinks of Leslie Rhodes.

      Van Dam leans down to Crossmann and whispers: "The first woman, Leslie Rhodes, is the water from the moutain spring.  Fresh, pure, sonorous.  The cleanest, freshest most delicious of all water.  The second woman, Sophie Tucker, is the wild mountain river as it snakes its way down to the valley.  The third woman, Irene Carlyle, becomes the muddy river overspilling its banks and spreading itself through the city, carrying away the waste of the city downstream.  The fourth woman, your own mother, is the river as it grows huge and shapeless, expanding to meet the ocean.  The river dies in that ocean, becoming one with its Father-Water; then it becomes evaporation which rises toward the heavens, to the clouds, only to become again, at re-birth, the raindrops falling again on the mountain, becoming again the mountain stream -- Leslie Rhodes...."

      Van Dam is reading from A Skeleton Key to Finnegan's Wake.  He puts the book away, having delivered his part for the play...

      The brunette pinches her nipples, turning them red.

 

"We're back!" Springer begins again.  "Please welcome Edward Starling, a genetic engineer who works for DNA Capital.  We have payed DNA Capital to test parentage of Christina Crossmann.  Mister Starling, please come out...."

      A man looking remarkably like Wally Cox appears, small, bestectabled, a tiny mouth, inauspicious, nervous hands.

      He sits.

      "Mister Starling," Jerry asks, pausing to raise the dramatic tension.  "IS Christina Crossmann Michael Crossmann's daughter...?"

      "No, Jerry, he is not," Edward Starling replies.  "No her physical, her birth-, father is Marshall Fenton..."

      "You tested Marshall Fenton?" Jerry asks.

      "Yes.  He is the birth-father."

      "Thank you Mister Starling," Jerry says.  "Let's bring out Christina Crossmann, the fourteen year-old daughter of Irene Crossmann and apparently not Michael Crossmann..."

      A very sexy twenty-year old blonde bombshell appears on the stage.

      The audience goes wild:  "OOH, OOH, OOH, OHH...."  Men waving their arms above their head, thumbs up, like masturbating orangutang.

      "No, wait a moment!" Jerry cries.  "This is not Christina Crossmann -- this is Sophie Tucker.  Michael Crossmann's mistress..."

      "Crossmann, Crossmann, Crossmann...!" the crowd shouts.

      Sophie is ushered quickly off the stage.  A delicate, pretty teenager comes on stage.  It is Christina.  She seems shy, confused.

      "Do you know why we have asked you here tonight, Christina?" Jerry asks.

      "My mom asked me to come?"

      "Do you know why?" Jerry asks again.

      "No, I don't know why," the girl replies.

      "Your mom has something to tell you.  Go ahead, Irene...!"

      "Dear," Irene says to her daughter.  "This man, your daddy, well, he really isn't your daddy.  Your real father is Marshall, dear.  Marshall and I have been lovers for many years.  The man I really love is Marshall...!"

      "What?  I don't understand?"

      "I'm really your daddy," Crossmann says to Christina.  "No matter what they say -- you know what is true..."

      "We had scientific tests done, dear!" Irene says to her daughter.  "It was all a mistake!  Your father can't have children!  He's impotent!  He's a weak, miserable failure...!"

      "Let's introduce Christine to her real father!" Jerry Springer cries out.  "Marshall Fenton, come on out...!"

      A dapper man in his early fifties appears, salt-and-pepper hair, Armani suit, Italian shoes.  A man out of Gentleman's Quarterly. 

      The audience begins to boo.

      Fenton throws up his hands, a gallant man, much-absused by the ignorant masses.

      "Do you know this man?" Springer asks.

      "Yes," Christina says shyly.

      "This man is your real father!" Jerry Springer explains to her.

      Christina does not want to hear it.

      "Dear," Crossmann says to her -- the Magician.

      She looks right through him.

      She runs away from the stage, to Crossmann in his coffin.

      "Daddy, tell me it isn't so!" Christina says.

      Crossmann can't move.  He can't speak.

      "You're my daddy!  I know you are my daddy!" Christina cries.

      A bodyguard tries to stop her.

      "I am your father!" Crossmann tries to call.  "Yes -- I will always be your father!"

      Nothing comes out.

      Crossmann just stares ahead.

      "Your father is dead," Jerry Springer tries to explain.  "Michael Crossmann was assassinated tonight!  It was a terrible strategy...!"

      Christina follows her father's intent stare -- the brunette is still showing him her breasts....

      "No!" Christina cries.

      She tries to run away.  But the bodyguard captures her, taking her backstage, trying to calm her.

      "You pig!" Crossmann says to Jerry Springer.  "You parasite!"  He hits Springer with a right uppercut, knocking Springer out.

      "Crossmann!  Crossmann!  Crossmann!" the crowd begins to shout.

      The body-guards move in with ropes and tie Crossmann to his chair.

      Cut to commercial.

 

A bull, slobbering, darting across the screen.  His athleticism is shocking: a thousand pounds of horn and hoof, turning on a dime like the finest scat-back.  Across the ring toward a red flag being waved from a new SUV.  A powerful fullback hitting a hole.  More impressive by far than the automobile.  Of course, the auto wins; and the bull retreats, defeated.  But we know the truth.  The bull is better than the car.

 

"Welcome back!"

      Oprah has taken over the show.

      "Jerry Springer has been savagely struck by Michael Crossmann tonight.  We believe his jaw has been broken.  I am taking over the show at Jerry's request.  We also have Tom Brokaw here to help; and Dan Rather; and Barbara Walters, so that each station has some representation.  Crossmann asked that Dianne Sawyer be present so he could stare at her and admire her elegant beauty.  But she was busy.  Geraldo Rivera is here; as also are Montel Williams, Rosie O'Donnell and the right-wing monster Doctor Laura Schlessinger.  We want to get to the bottom of this.  We have asked that the city send down some police officers to arrest Michael Crossmann after the show and charge him with assault and battery...."

      The crowd begins to boo.

      "We want the daughter back out here," Oprah says.

      A bodyguard escorts Christina back on stage.

      "Come sit by me, sweety," Oprah says.  Oprah is now seated on the stage, between the other players.

      Christina sits next to her.

      "You know your mother loves you," Oprah begins.  "This man, this Michael Crossmann, who has been a father to you for so many years -- before he became a bad man and killed three teenagers and, well you know what he did with that girl, Sophie Tucker.  That man is a kind of father to you.  And I'm sure he loves you too..."

      "Knock it off, Oprah!" Doctor Laura comes in.  "The girl needs love -- and that Dorian Gray sitting up there isn't going to give her love.  The father is the one who loves a girl, cares for her, raises her!  Not the injector alone!  DNA tells us nothing about the nature of the heart...!"

      "We knew you'd support him!" Oprah says.  "You're like peas in a pod!  You oppress the poor, the women, the people of color!  That's the whole basis of your system of thought...!"

      "I tend to agree with Doctor Laura," Doctor Joyce Brothers announces, appearing in the audience, standing up next to the brunette with the open shirt.

      "Why am I not surprised!" Oprah replies.  "A couple of doctors who aren't doctors...!"

      "And I don't appreciate your ignoring me in your introduction," Doctor Brothers adds.  "Christina needs love of both a man and a woman to become a balanced child and adult.  It doens't matter if Michael Crossmann is the real father, the birth-father.  Sex is not really so important....!"

      "Yeah, so you say!" Oprah says, laughing.  "You haven't gotten any for at least three decades...!"

      "Oprah!  Oprah!  Oprah!  Oprah!" the audience begins to chant.

      "You know your daddy molested this girl," Oprah says.  "Bring out Sophie...!"

      Sophie Tucker appears again.  She is petitie; but she is built like a sex-goddess.  Her face has a certain kind of innocence -- which announces that sex is good and she is also good, for enjoying sex.

      The audience explodes.  "Sophie!  Sophie!  Sophie...!"

      Oprah raises her hands, silencing the audience.

      "Sophie, welcome!" Oprah greets the beauty.

      "This man" -- Oprah points to the Magician -- "did he not molest you when you were a young girl...?"

      "Not that man!" Sophie replies.  "I don't know who that man is...!"

      "What about the man in the coffin, over there?" Oprah asks.

      "Oh, he didn't molest me," Sophie replies.  "I molested him.  I was after him for years.  I thought he would never give in..."

      "Tell us what you did with him," Oprah says.

      "Not as much as I wanted to do," Sophie responds.

      "What was that?" Oprah asks.

      "I wanted to have sex with him," Sophie says.

      "Were you in love with him?"

      "I admired him.  He was very sexy.  No -- but not love.  I didn't want to marry him.  I just wanted sex...!"

      "And you got it!" Oprah says.

      "No, I didn't!" Sophie says.  "Not really!"

      "You don't consider oral sex sex?"

      "No.  It isn't intercourse."

      "No, it isn't intercourse.  But aren't there more kinds of sex than just intercourse..."

      "Like anal intercourse?" Sophie asks.  "Yes.  But we didn't do that either..."

      "And what about oral intercourse?  Isnt' that intercourse...?"

      "Oral sex is oral sex," Sophie says.  "It isn't intercourse...!

      "But we do have the dress, don't we?" Oprah asks.

      A bodyguard brings in the famous yellow dress.

      Suddenly Crossmann thinks of the Leonard Cohen song, "Your Famous Yellow Raincoat" -- and this makes him sad.

      The dress has a stain on it.

      "Mister Starling," Oprah continues.  "You have studied this famous yellow dress, have you not?"

      "I have," Edward Starling replies.

      "You have compared the DNA of the stain on the dress with the sperm Irene Crossmann provided for you as her husband's sample?"

      "I have."

      "And what did you determine?"

      "The sperm on the dress belongs to Michael Crossmann," Edward Starling reports.

      "There can be no doubt?" Oprah asks.

      "None."

      "There you have it, irrefutable evidence.  Michael Crossmann was the father of that sperm-stain on the dress of a fifteen-year-old girl, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Michael Crossmann is guilty of statutory rape.  He should be jailed immediately for this crime...."

      Crossmann suddenly feels his jaw loosen.  His paralysis is lessening.  He leans out of his box, cocking his head back toward the stage.  He notices, as he rises, that the brunette girl with the open shirt has passed out after muttering: "Oh, yes! Thank God!"

      Crossmann says to Mister Starling.

      "But you don't know, for a fact, do you Mister Starling, that the sperm Missus Crossmann said belonged to me, which you used for your test, really was my sperm, do you?  I mean: it could have been anyuone's sperm.   You took her word when she said it was mine...?"

      "Well, yes, that is true," Starling says.

      "It could have been Phil Donahue's sperm or Gerraldo's, couldn't it have been?"

      "Yes, I guess that is so."

      "Are you suggesting that Gerraldo or Phil may have had a go with this young girl...?"

      "I've screwed them both," Sophie replies.  "I've had oral sex with both men...!"

      Gerraldo and Phil Donahue says nothing.  Both blush a bit.

      "I have a date after the show with Montel," Sophie says.

      "Oral Sex!  Oral Sex!  Oral Sex!" the crowd begins to chant.

 

The camera cuts to Jerry Springer.  He is in a wheelchair, his mouth wired shut. 

      He tries to speak his philosophical tribute to himself, the way he closes each show:

      "Sometimes the truth is not always what it seeems.  A man scatters his seed; but the seeds aren't scattered.  Another man collects seeds; but the seeds are lost in the wind.  Another man has no seeds.  And another man eats seeds.  Sometimes he is arrested; and sometimes not.  We do not need to persecute someone all the time; we should be satisfied with a little persecution each day.  Otherwise we will be greedy.  Afterall, we have to live together.  If we don't have one another to laugh at and tortue; we will probably have to find some new way to entertain ourselves.  Until tomorrow night, keep smiling.  I know I'm going to try."

      "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!" the audience cries.

      Crossmann notices that Al Gore is speaking animatedly with the bald man again.  The bald man comes up on the stage toward Crossmann -- and he grabs him by the wound and begins to squeeze the wound, trying to open it up.

      "Killer Kowalski!" Van Dam mutters.  Then he hits the balk man with an overhand right, knocking him out.

      Several New York policemen in blue uniforms appear on the stage.  They arrest Michael J. Fox, pretending to be Crossmann.  He is handcuffed, and charged with battery.

      Crossmann tries to get out of his coffin.

      "Pipe down, chorus boy!" Van Dam says, pushing him back into the coffin.

      Christina runs from the stage toward Crossmann.

      "Daddy!" she cries.

      "Baby!"

The lights go out.

 

Van Dam is racing down a narrow hallway. Yellow lights are flickering.  He is running too fast.  He is being chased.

      "Run!" Van Dam admonishes himself.  "Run!  Run!"

      Crossmann ducks down in the casket, afraid to look.  They are now going downhill.

      Crossmann looks up -- because he can no longer hear Van Dam crying "Run".  He hears Van Dam's voice fade away.  He looks up.  The casket is racing down a steep incline, straight down.

      "Sorry!"

      Crossmann hears Van Dam's last word, yelled from a great distance.

      Then there is a sudden collision, as the coffin slams into a thick wall and splinters.  Crossmann is hurled like a stock of wood on a wave into the hard rocks....

      Crossmann awakes to find himself alone in the mezzanine of the opera house.  The room is deserted, but for an old toothless man who is sweeping under his feet.

 

The old toothless man continues sweeping, muttering a song: "Ophie-say, Ucker-Faye -- Ophie-say, Ucker-Taye, over-lay unders-day thunders-day rouge..."

      "What?" Crossmann asks.

      "Rosebud," the old man says, leering, perverse.  "Ud-be Ose-Ray."

      "I don't understand," Crossmann says.

      "African rosewood and red velvet chairs," the old man responds.   "The mural paintings -- Le Triumphe de Musique -- are by Marc Chagal.  He wanted stained glass windows but he felt that New Yorkers were too crude for glass-work to survive.  The gypsy is Rudolph Bing, who ran this great place for almost thirty years...  Yes, sir.  Yes, sir.  Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run...."

      The old man goes away sweeping.

      "Ose-ray ud-be.  Ose-ray ud-be... Der-unday er-he irt-skay.  Ose-ray ud-be.  Ose-ray ud-be...."

 

"Have you slept enough!" a voice comes from the top of the mezzanine, near the door.  A voice almost too loud.

      Crossmann turns around, trying to see in the darkness.

      A flash of light, a match lit, a cigarette.  The Magician.  A halo of smoke.

      "You had a good long sleep.  We need to move along.  They are waiting for us with supper."

      "Supper?"

      Crossmann rises.  He feels a sudden pain in his right side: a hunger pang perhaps.  He walks up the aisle toward the glowing cigarette.

      "Is everything finished?" Crossmann asks.

      "Everything?"

      "I have to get upstairs to see Leslie," Crossmann says.  "She's upstairs at 'Fidelio'."

      "'Fidelio' has ended," the Magician says.  "Everyone is gone.  We, too, must leave."

      The Magician leads Crossmann out of the performance hall, opening the mezzanine door directly on to a New York street. 

      The taxi driver -- the one with the mohawk haircut -- Henry Krinkle -- is leaning again his parked car smoking a cigarette, waiting.

      "The L'Odeon, on Broadway and Thomas" the Magician says to the taxi driver.  Apparently they know each other.

      "Oui, oui!" Krinkle says.  "I know zee place...!"

      He throws away his cigarette and opens the back door for Crossmann and the Magician.

      They are off again in to the New York night.

      The taxi-driver turns on the radio:

 

"Ice - your only rivers run cold

These city lights - they shine as silver and gold

Dug from the night - your eyes as black as coal

 

Walk on by - walk on through

Walk till you run and don't look back

For here I am

 

Carnival - the wheels fly and the colours spin

Through alcohol - red wine that punctures the skin

Face to face in a dry and waterless place

 

Walk on by - walk on through

So sad to beseige your love so

Head on - stay this time

Stay tonight in a lie

I'm only asking but I think you know

Come on take me away

Come on take me away

Come on take me home - home again

 

And if the mountain should crumble

Or disappear into the sea

Not a tear - no, not I

Stay in this time

Stay tonight in a lie

Ever after, this love in time

And if you save your love, save it all

Don't push me too far

Don't push me too far tonight...."

 

Crossmann is singing along with the song.  Outside, it is cold.  There are fewer cars on the road now.  The windows are fogging up.  Crossmann makes a small spiral on the window to clean away the condensation.  He sees his hand.  He thinks: I must not be dreaming now, for I can see my hand just by willing it.  He also sees the cuff of his coat: army green.  Ragged.  He touches his right hand pocket, feeling the pistol and the key to the city.

      The taxi-driver says: "Did you hear -- the Arabs blew up the World Trade Center.  They've arrested a bunch of them.  Fucking terrorists.  They oughtta hang them like you did them kids back in Oregon..."

      "They blew it up again?" the Magician asks.

      "Yeah, tonight!  They tried to blow up the Space Needle in Seattle too.  There is no end to their tyranny..."

      A voice comes out of the radio:

      "That, of course, was Bono and U2 with their classic 'The Unforgettable Fire.  And this is Mike the Tyke, coming to you in a new millenium.  Our computer didn't melt down.  Maybe we will surive this horrible night afterall.  Remember, 'rosepud' spelled backwards is 'dupesor' -- which, in Russian, means 'don't mess with that missionary man', because he is a dangerous dude and he has powers of Thor and Jove, he is able to throw massive trajectories out of the heavens and burn you on the spot...  Here's that diva from the land down over, with the Eurythmics, telling us what we ought to be fearing on KMTR... "

 

"Well I was born an original sinner.

I was borne from original sin.

And if I had a dollar bill

For all the things I've done

There'd be a mountain of money

Piled up to my chin...

 

Crossmann is again singing like an excited canary:

 

My mother told me good

My mother told me strong.

She said 'be true to yourself

And you can't go wrong.'

'But there's just one thing

That you must understand.'

'You can fool with your brother -

But don't mess with a missionary man'...."

 

They pass Radio City Music Hall.  The taxi slows down. 

      There is a naked man, about twenty-five years old, pressed between two huge blocks of ice -- trapped inside two giant ice-floes.  It looks like Jim.

      "Stop the car!" Crossmann cries.

      The cab eases over to the curb. 

      Crossmann is out, running up to the man in the ice.  It isn't Jim.  But the man is turning blue.

      He turns back to the Magician: "We need to get this man out of here!"

      "No, he wants to be there," the taxi-driver says.  "It's a stunt.  He's doing it for publicity...!"

      "What!" Crossmann says.  "He's dying in there...!"

      "No, he's not -- he's a Magician -- a Magician!" the taxi-driver says.

      Crossmann looks at the man in the block of ice again.  It is the Magician.

      There is a crowd now: thousands of people.  Lights flashing; television crews.

      "Michael Crossmann is here tonight, taking time off from his busy schedule, to visit with our brave Iceman..."

      It is Diane Sawyer. 

      "Would you like to say a few words, Mister Crossmann?"

      Diane Sawyer is beautiful, elegant and poised.  Crossmann swallows hard.  Careful not to fall in love.  Crossmann opens his mouth:

      "I am delighted to be here, sharing in the celebration of this man's courage.  I am really concerned for the safety of this man.  My urgency tells me we should cut this man out of the ice immediately.  But I am told that this is all being monitored by doctors..."

      "Polls show that you are leading in the presidential race by as much as 35% over your two competitiors.  They both accuse you of having captured the center, appealing to liberals because of your social positions for national health care and for protection of the environment, and to conservatives because of your religious background and your strong views on law and order and on military preparedness.  Do you think that is a fair chacterisation...?"

      "I don't really analyze this much," Crossmann responds to Ms. Sawyer, looking deep into her eyes, dark pools, mesmerizing him.  Whatever you say, Diane.  I will do whatever you will say.  Will you marry me and be my queen?

      Aha!  You really do think yourself a king!  You have a desire to be king!

      "Some of your opponents, Mister Gore specifically, have suggested that you are not as committed as you should be to the principles of separation of church and state.  In his cynical moments, he declares that your intend to make of yourself a new religion, the religion of the New Millenium.  He says that you have a 'martyr complex' -- and that you will stop at nothing less than fulfilling the prophecies of your novel, Conversations on a Dying Age -- prophecies which, he claims, are dangerous to America.  He believes that you are blindly devoted to the state of Israel, even to the extent of helping to fulfill the prophecies of the Old and the New Testaments, the culmination of the Catholic Church.  He says America cannot afford to be governed by a mystical madman....!  How do you respond?"

      "If I was George W, I would say: 'Them sound like fighting words!'" Crossmann mugs.  "But since I'm not, I will just say that I am a man who believes that God communicates with each individual.  And that each individual is fated to follow his God, whether voluntarily or by fatality.  I will follow my own God, and my God's directive.  But I am not committed to the destruction of democracy, which I believe to be the best form of government on the earth, superior to rule by theocracy or aristocracy, superior also to the rule of chaos or the rule of atheists...!"

      "Every time you speak, you generate fear in the minds of your poliitical opponents," Diane continues.  "They say your words do not elucidate your positions; but, rather, they tend to hide you in a logic of smoke, a smoke of mirrors if you will.  You have been called a magician with words, someone who uses words to create an illusion.  I remember a Gore sign at the last political rally I covered: MJC equals MAGIC.  Do you think that type of suggestion hurts you or helps you...?"

      "We have had other presidents who were magicians, in the very large sense of the word: Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Franklin Roosevelt, Reagan.  Magicians in that they were able to hold toghether the American family during great times of trial.  In that sense, I believe that being a magician is a very great thing, indeed.  And I believe most Americans would agree that having a certain kind of magic in your nature is not a bad thing at all..."

      "The Religious Right, at least some members of the Religious Right, have suggested a kind of demonism in this position.  That your involvement with the occult is an indication that your are not God's angel at all, no Michael, but perhaps Michael's negative, his brother, Lucifer -- the brightest angel who deceives with his powers to create illusions...."

      "The truth always requires a great deal of study and understanding," Crossmann says.  "And oftentimes all that isn't enough either..."

      The crowd of thousands begins to cheer wildly: "Crossmann, Crossmann -- anyone but Bush or Gore!  Anyone but Bush or Gore...!"

      Crosssmann smiles, waving to the crowd.  Off to the side, an orchestra begins to play 'Hail to the Chief' -- but Crossmann stops them with a wave.

      "It's too early for that," Crossmann says.  "Play, instead, Copeland's 'Theme for the Common Man'...!"

      The orchestra breaks into Copeland's heroic song.

      "Ok.  The Iceman has signalled us that he wants to come out," Diane Sawyer explains.  "He has been under water, boxed in ice, for more than 50 hours.  He is signalling for Michael Crossmann to come closer.  Michael, come closer, he is trying to tell you something..."

      Crossmann leans closer to the ice block, trying to hear what the Magician is whispering:

      "RRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUDDDDDDD...!"

      Crossmann has his ear on the ice block, and his right hand.

      His ear sticks to the ice.

      ROSEBUD.

      His right hand and his right ear are stuck to the ice.

      The iceblock is melting.

      "The warmth of Michael Crossmann's body is apparently melting the ice," Diane Sawyer reports.  "This is all very strange.  Have you ever seen anything like this, Robert....?"

      Robert Threlkeld, science reporter, is stupefied.

      "Never, never -- the ice is melting.  They were planning to cut the ice with chain saws.  But the ice is melting uniformly.  The Iceman will be standing free of the ice at any moment...!  This is some kind of strange miracle...!  I really don't understand a single thing that is now happening here!  I didn't understand why any man would risk his life in this way!  Now I don't understand why the ice is melting so rapidly merely at the touch of Michael Crossmann's hand and face...!"

      The block of ice is breaking up.

      Crossmann is still attached at the right ear and right hand.  Pieces of ice break off -- and he is standing now away from the block of ice with a small block of ice attached to both his ear and hand.

 

The Magician is free of the ice, standing before thousands, with camera lights and flashbulbs popping.

      "I'm cold!" the Magician says.  "I'm really very cold."

      "Come on!"

      Crossmann leads him through the crowd down to the taxi.  He helps the Magician into the cab.  The taxi-driver climbs in and they are driving again....

     

Crossmann wakes up again.  His head has been resting against the window.  And his right hand.

      "Mike the Tyke says: 'Don't go to sleep on me now!  It's late!  Eat something!  Drink something!  Whatever it takes to keep away from those REM murmurings.  Afterall, I'm a lonely kind of guy!  I don't want to be up here all by myself at this hour.  Mike the Tyke the Stipe continues to roll, on this celebrity-version of Midnight at the Oasis, with one of our own, taking his camel to bed...."

      The music comes in:

 

From the back of my neck, oh oh oh

Wired a glass jaw, oh oh

Plantation burning your boat is coming in

Strum your jew's-harp, you're reeking gin

 

Running water in a sinking boat

Going under but they've got your goat

Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound

Burning down - can't you see that my hands are bound

 

Johnny Mike is reading in the yard

His story's timely, oh oh oh

What river is it anyway, radio

Not in a boat, in your ear

 

Running water in a sinking boat

Going under but they've got your goat

Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound

Burning down - can't you see that my hands are bound

 

You pick your island in the sun

Take your island off he's got a gun

Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound

Burning down - can't you see that my hands are bound

 

He's cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck

Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh

You can pick your island in the sun

Take your island off he's got a gun

 

Running water in a sinking boat

Going under but they've got your goat

Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound

Burning down - can't you see that my hands are bound

 

"That song goes out to Michael Crossmann, who, as we understand it, is driving somewhere on Broadway at this moment, looking for a French restaurant.  The line 'Johnny Mike is reading in the yard' I took, in fact, from Michael Crossmann's life.  Crossmann's father, Jake Crossmann, used to call his son 'Johnny Mike' -- and Crossmann loved to sit in a chaisse lounge chair in the front yard of his home in Sinclair, Wyoming, reading books.  The townspeople thought Michael had gone too far, in fact, had become too much of a book-worm.  But that line came from an image I somehow received from Crossmann, when he was sitting in his front yard reading; and his father came out on the front porch, calling him 'Johnny Mike'..."

      Crossmann begins to sing: "Johnny Mike is reading in the yard.  History's timing, oh oh oh..."  Crossmann looks out the window, watching the buildings flash by.  And he sees a picture of his father calling him from the front porch of their Sinclair house: his dad is well, dressed in a guinea-t shirt, smiling at his son.  ROSEBUD, his father is saying to Johnny Mike.  ROSEBUD..."

      "It's the Platte River," Crossmann says to no one.

      "What?" the Magician asks.

      "It's the Platte River, hey, radio," Crossmann says again. "Not in a boat, oh, an earwig in your ear...  In the porches of your ear...."

      "What?" the Magician asks.

      "Mike the Tyke returns.  We hear that someone has made an attempt on the life of Michael Crossmann tonight.  They are reporting that it was a solitary Arab, by the name of Faramarz something...Akbarinejad.  Are we going to believe that?  Al Gore may want Crossmann dead; but I doubt that Faramarz Akbarinejad is really that concerned tonight...Let's hear from one of New York's own, favorite son, the fire-starter, who now is alone without his model wife to keep him dry in his company..."

      Bill Joel comes on the radio:

 

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray

 South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio

 

Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, Television

North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe

 

Rosenbergs, H-Bomb, Sugar Ray, Parmunjom

Brando, The King And I and The Catcher In The Rye

 

Eisenhower, Vaccine, England's got a new queen

Marciano, Liberace, Stantayana goodbye

 

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning

Since the world's been turning

We didn't start the fire

No we didn't light it

But we tried to fight it

 

Joesph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser and Prokofiev

Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc

 

Roy Cohn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron

Dien Bien Phu Falls, Rock Around The Clock

 

Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team

Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland

 

Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Krushchev

Princess Grace, Peyton Place, Trouble in the Suez

 

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning

Since the world's been turning

We didn't start the fire

No we didn't light it

But we tried to fight it

 

Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac

Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, Bridge On The River Kwai

 

Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California baseball

Starkweather, Homicide, Children of Thalidomide

 

Buddy Holly, Ben Hur, Space Monkey, Mafia

Hula Hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go

 

U-2, Syngman Rhee, Payola and Kennedy

 Chubby Checker, Psycho, Belgians in the Congo

 

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning

Since the world's been turning

We didn't start the fire

No we didn't light it

But we tried to fight it

 

Hemingway, Eichmann, Stranger In A Strange Land

Dylan, Berlin, Bay Of Pigs Invasion

 

Lawrence Of Arabia, British Beatlemania

Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson

 

Pope Paul, Malcom X, British Politician Sex

J.F.K. blown away, what else do I have to say

 

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning

Since the world's been turning

We didn't start the fire

No we didn't light it

But we tried to fight it

 

Birth Control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again

Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, Punk Rock

Begin, Reagan, Palestine, Terror on the airline

Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan

 

Wheel Of Fortune, Sally Ride, Heavy Metal, Suicide

Foreign debts, Homeless Vets, AIDS, Crack, Bernie Goetz

Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law

Rock and Roller Cola Wars, I can't take it anymore..."

 

Crossmann again sees his father through the window.  He is dressed in a baseball uniform.  He has a bat.  He tosses up a ball, and strikes it, left-handed, sending the ball high into the sky.  Crossmann begins to chase the fly ball.  Going back, way back, leaping high against the wall.  It's gone.  Homerun!  Homerun...!

      Crossmann falls back to Earth, lying down, his right cheek in the thick grass.  It smells like home.

 

Crossmann's right cheek is stuck to the ice suddenly.  He has been knocked flying by John Ferguson.  He is up again.  He hears the Magician's voice:

      "Crossmann is on the left wing.  Rod Gilbert takes the draw against Jean Beliveau.  He draws the puck back to the left point.  New York is on a power play, tied with Montreal 3 to 3.  Cockteau drops the puck off to Crossmann who fires from the left circle, high, over Worseley's head...."

      Crossmann is skating like the wind.  His feet cut, sharp as glass.  Ice flying.  Less than a minute left in the power play -- and in the game.  Reorganizing behind the net, Crossmann now comes up on right wing.  He takes the puck in full flight, jukes a red jersey at the blue line (Belliveau) and fires a low shot off-target, wide of the net.

      Montreal's defenseman Larry Robinson fires the puck back behind his own net, where players from both teams freeze the puck.

      Crossmann still hears the Magician's voice: "The puck is tied up behind the Montreal net.  Twenty-six seconds left on the power play.  The New York crowd is going nuts.  Only thirty seconds left in the third period, so this one may go into overtime.  Gilbert is out on point.  Michael Crossmann now is playing center.  He'll take the draw against Belliveau -- two legends of the ice.  Belliveau out of the great Montreal Canadian system.  Crossmann out of the almost-unknown Wyoming USA system.  But here they are now, both rugged veterans, each trying to win the cup for their team.  Game seven.  Series tied.  The faceoff.  The puck is dropped.  Crossmann wins the draw, dropping it back to Hatfield who sends the puck cross-rink to the point.  Gilbert with a hard low shot, deflected by the Gumper.  Knocked loose in front.  Crossmann with a wrister to the right top corner...."

      Crossmann sees the puck in slow-motion.  Gilbert's shot hits Gump Worsley's left skate.  He can't control the puck.  It bounces out in front, hitting Larry Robinson in the back, falling in front of Crossmann, off to his left.  Worsley can be beaten on his stick hand high.  Crossmann with a short stroke, lifting the puck up to his own left.  The net is open.  Worsley tries to get his elbow up.  A red light goes on.....

      "GOAL!  GOAL!  GOAL!  GOAL!  Oh, my god, New York is going to win the cup!  New York is going to win the cup...!"

      The New York crowd is swarming over the ice, lifting Crossmann into the air.  The siren is wailing.  Lights are flashing....

      The crowd is chanting: "CROSSMANN!  CROSSMANN!  CROSSMANN!  CROSSMANN...!

      The look of love is in the eyes of men, women and children.

      Crossmann is the hero.

      Crossmann is the hero.

     

Crossmann wakes up again, his right cheek against the window again.  It is less cold now, as his warm cheek has helped to thaw the glass.

      A police car is flashing its lights, driving to the side of the taxi.

      The taxi-driver is talking through his window with the policeman riding shotgun.

      The Magician says: "They are going to escort us to the restaurant..."

      "This is Mike the Tyke again.  And we caught our namesake in a kind of sports fantasy that time.  Scoring the big goal!  Oh, we all have that phantasm!  Sometimes it's a girl -- you know everyone has got to have a purpose in this world...!  One more song before I am banned from the airwaves for life.  One of our own, a sleep-song, a bit of a ballad.... Remember, this is a Mexican Radio; and we are a wall of vodoo!  We dedicate this song to Michael Crossmann on Millennium Night -- and we hope his taxi-driver is not driving with his eyes closed.  Until later, love to everyone.  Signing off: Mike the Tyke.  Like it or not...."

 

                                    "That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane -

                                       and Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn -

                                     world serves its own needs, regardless of your own needs. Feed it up a knock,

                                       speed, grunt no, strength no. Ladder structure clatter with fear of height,

                                      down height. Wire in a fire, represent the seven games in a government for

                                      hire and a combat site. Left her, wasn't coming in a hurry with the furies

                                      breathing down your neck. Team by team reporters baffled, Trump, tethered

                                       crop. Look at that low plane! Fine then. Uh oh, overflow, population,

                                     common group, but it'll do. Save yourself, serve yourself. World serves its

                                       own needs, listen to your heart bleed. Tell me with the rapture and the

                                       reverent in the right - right. You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright

                                                     light, feeling pretty psyched.

 

                                                 It's the end of the world as we know it.

                                                 It's the end of the world as we know it.

                                             It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

 

                                      Six o'clock - TV hour. Don't get caught in foreign tower. Slash and burn,

                                      return, listen to yourself churn. Lock him in uniform and book burning,

                                     blood letting. Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate. Light a candle,

                                      light a motive. Step down, step down. Watch a heel crush, crush. Uh oh,

                                       this means no fear - cavalier. Renegade and steer clear! A tournament,

                                     a tournament, a tournament of lies. Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives

                                                          and I decline.

 

                                                 It's the end of the world as we know it.

                                                 It's the end of the world as we know it.

                                             It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

 

                                      The other night I tripped a nice continental drift divide. Mount St. Edelite.

                                        Leonard Bernstein. Leonid Breshnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs.

                                       Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You symbiotic, patriotic,

                                                     slam, but neck, right? Right.

 

                                                 It's the end of the world as we know it.

                                                 It's the end of the world as we know it.

                                          It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine..."

 

Crossmann is singing along: "It's the end of the world as we know it.  But I feel fine...!"

      The car stops in front of a restaurant: L'ODEON!

      A crippled man sits near the front of the restaurant: dirty hair, torn clothes, one leg twisted to the back.

      "Help me, Mister!" the man says to Crossmann.  "You wouldn't turn your back on an old altar boy, would you, father...?"

      Crossmann touches him on the forehead.

      "Get up and walk away!" Crossmann says to the man.

      The man rises.  He is no longer crippled.

      The man mutters: "Crossmann King!  Crossmann King!"

      "Jesus Christ!" the taxi-driver says.  "I know that man!  Abe Red Apples, we call him!  He has been crippled since he was a child!  He is walking!  My God!  That was some kind of miracle!  I am most moved by this -- most moved...!"

      A boy carrying a newspaper passes in front of the restaurant.

      "Read all about it!" the boy cries.  "Gore and Bush arrested for conspiracy to assassinate Michael Crossmann...!  Crossmann set to assume the Presidency...!"

      Crossmann enters the restaurant.

      There is applause, which surprises Crossmann.

      Then he notices that Madonna has entered the restaurant behind him; the crowd is applauding for Madonna.  She looks good, dressed in a long spangled gold evening dress, which shows the top half of her breasts.  She smiles at Crossmann as she passes.  In her train is a group of young men, boys really, gay young men.

      "Hello, you," Madonna says in passing, winking at Crossmann.  "I've seen you on the tv...."

      "Do you have a reservation?" Pierre La Touche, the host, stops Crossmann.

      "Pierre!  Tu regarde le visage de l'homme!" the Magician interrupts.

      "Oui, monsieur de Sade.  Pardon moi," Pierre stumbles.  "J'ai regret de...  Welcome, Mister Finn-Sawyer -- Mister Sawyer-Finn...!"

      "Mister Crossmann!" the Magician corrects Pierre.

      "Oh, pardon.  I do beg your pardon..."

      "Forget it, Pierre," the Magician says, waving his handkerchief in the air like a real Marquise.  "It is a New Millennium.  All things and all beings are henceforth considered equal....  Do we have a table...?"

      There are small tables in the front, well-appointed, with a main staircase leading up to a second floor.  Pierre follows Madonna, leading Crossmann and the Magician up the staircase.

      "We should have the taxi-driver eat with us!" Crossmann says.

      The Magician laughs, shaking his head no.  "Are you serious!  What are you -- a democrat or an incendiary cocktail?  No -- equality is one thing!  But such utter chaos benefits no one...!"

      The second floor is very large and quite regal, with large portraits of family members, dark portraits, a lˆ Rembrandt, adorning the walls.  The L'Odeons are apparently a family with pretentions to aristocracy.  On the east wall is a description of the family and their history as one of the great families of France.  Some scandal drove them to America, a scandal which they consider 'la catastrophe d'understande'.  Somehow they were accused of abetting the Nazis in France.  It was a mistake.  A tragic minunderstanding.  Nothing could be done about it.  Nothing but flee.

      George L'Odeon, the patriarch, with his children, now runs the restaurant.  George's wife, Lazabette, committed suicide in disgrace shortly after the family's relocation to America.  George is now very old; and he has become a family figurehead, often wandering through the restaurant at all hours, sometimes asking the clientele if they are Jewish, at other times warning them that Nazis are approaching the city.

      He asks Michael Crossmann if he is Jewish.

      "Not to my knowledge," Crossmann replies.

      "You look like a Jew.  No, you are a Jew!" the old man says.  "I can smell it!  I'm like an old bloodhound.  One sniff, two sniffs -- I can sniff out a Catholic; and I can sniff out a Jew.  And I can also sniff-out a Catholic who is, at the same time, a Jew-Hater..."

      "Which am I?" Crossmann asks.

      "You are a Jew!" the old man says.  "You may be a Catholic -- but you are also a Jew...!"

      "Many people tell me I am a Jew," Crossmann says.

      "Yes," George L'Odeon replies.  "You have the look -- that haunted look...!"

 

There are four large circular tables situated in the shape of a diamond.  At the head table are a group of old men.  Crossmann recorgnizes some of these: Pat Robinson, Billy Graham, Jimmy Swaggert, Father Conn, Rabbi Roth, and Jerry Fallwell.  He sees only the backs of the other men; some are doting; one man has fallen asleep, his face into his plate.

      Crossmann passes the table quickly.  He hears snatches of conversation: whether it is Jesus's humanity or his divinity which is most noble and most relevant; whether the Holy Ghost is, indeed, a destroying aspect of the three-person God or a spiritually healing presence; whether the Third Temple in Jerusalem necessarily requires the annihilation of the Moslems in the Middle East; whether nuclear weapons should be used against the unbelievers; the nature of the phallus as an element of the Renaissance; whether the neutron bomb should be used in Jerusalem to preserve the great buildings of the Moslem culture -- or should that culture be annihilated...?

      Crossmann hears all this as he passes the table.

      "Oh, here's Crossmann, the Devil Himself!" Fallwell says as he notices Michael enter the room.

      Crossmann hears this remark -- and he wonders whether Fallwell is speaking of himself or of the Magician.

      Crossmann nods to Fallwell and keeps moving.

      To the left is a second table, filled with men and women, kings and queens of society.  Ted Kennedy is there; Bill Gates with his wife; Ted Turner and Jane Fonda; Jay Rockefeller and his wife; Eric and Michelle de Nombrement of Paris; William Buckley and his wife; Henri de Lambert; Oscar and Helen Kruger of Bonn; Edward and Elizabeth Stewart of London; Alan Greenspan with his wife; Elbert and Mina Rothschild; Henry Carpentier de Rouen; Edouardo Albertini, the finance minister of Pope John; Mayor Guiliani, Michael Correleone, Mikhael Gorbachev; Donald Trump; John Major....

      Crossmann hears snatches of conversation as he passes the table: The dillution of noble blood through the policies of racial liberalism; how XML will change the world for the better; the implications of the strong dollar on European sense of self; the toleration of authoritarianism by western nations in Russia; the implications of a strong dollar on aspirations for American imperialism; how interest rates work like a tire-jack on a car; who really owns the world -- and do they have God's blessing in this; my God, my back hurts -- how long is this going to last; sometimes you put a bullet in a man's head and it takes care of your problems; let's toast the unity of humanity; architecture is the thought of God -- and profits from architecture are the thoughts of man; I believe he is a socialist on domestic policy and a conservative on foreign policy -- or perhaps it's the other way around.  I forget; what about those God damned Arabs; what if they sweep into Europe and America decides not to fight to protect her; what will happen then...?

      "Oh, here's Crossmann!" Henri de Lambert mutters under his handkerchief, "the man of the masses, adversary of the ruling classes...!"

      Crossmann nods to Henri de Larchment and keeps moving.

      To the right of this table (from Crossmann's perspective) is his table.  He sees his friends all gathered: Harold Bloom, Charlie Rose; Pete Hamil; William Styron, Allen Ginsberg, William Crossmann, his brother; Truman; Faramarz (dressed in disguise); Ted Clause; Jim; Moshe Frank; and the old woman in black from Russia. The Magician, of course, joins him at this table.

      Crossmann hears snatches of conversation as he passes to his chair: the solution of the 'Cain Problem' in Lord Byron's classic poem of the same name; how many shots of whiskey are in a fifth of Jack Daniels; how anal sex is superior to vaginal sex -- and how everyone should try it; the importance of pragmatism in the life of a writer; the inherent racism of the word 'terrorist'; the unconstitutionality of requiring a man presumed innocent to dress in disguise when attending his last supper; the nature of Fohat as a 'Turanian compound' and as 'androgynous energy', as 'the bridge between spirit and matter', as cosmic energy which 'brings the ray in union with the soul', as the 'force accompanying ideation', as 'guided by universal intelligence', as a 'fiery whirlwind',  as the 'double triangle of divine love', as the force 'separating matter into atoms', as the force which sets 'the nebulae in motion', the 'synthesis of nature...'

      "Oh, he's here!" Jim says, under his breath.

      "Don't worry!" Faramarz replies.  "He's probably already forgotten!  He may be dead already!  What can the dead remember anyhow!  That's the beauty of death!  Memories are dissolved...!"

      Crossmann nods to Jim as he passes to his chair, saying nothing.

      Below Crossmann, at the south pole, if you will, is a final, large circular table.  At this table sits many people: Gloria Steinem, Oprah Winfrey, Gillian Anderson, Eve Gensler, Mayor Guiliani's wife, Doctor Joyce Brothers, Joel Gray, Richard Simmons, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Renee Cox, the photographer, the Reverend Jesse Jackson, Spike Lee, Hillary Clinton and her husband, Bill, George McGovern, George Stephanopolous, Camilla Paglia, Geraldo Rivera, Irene Crossmann, Marshall Fenton, Madonna, Sophie Tucker, Rosie O'Donnell, Warren Beatty, Dan Rather, Kurt Vonnegut, Barbara Streisand, Woody Allen and his Asian wife/daughter, Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones, Sean Connery, Barbara Walters, August Wilson, Dennis Hopper, Francis Ford Coppola, Denise Rich, Christopher Walken,  Hole, Yoko Ono, Susan Sarandon, Tim Roberts, Doctor Laura Schlessinger, Peter Jennings, Phil Donahue, Tom Brokaw, Jerry Springer, Jewel, Anthony Robins, Reggie Lyons, Glenn Close, and Frank Gifford and Kathy Lee Crosby.

      Crossmann hears snatches of conversation as he passes this table: Snatch; crack; pussy; cunt; slash; hole; vagina; the impossibility of wholeness through psychology; I wanna dance; I can help you to shed those fat pounds in days; why not a black woman as Jesus; just leave mealone on this one; yo mama's last supper; I categorically deny that I am a black Bill Clinton; film is not art, it is propoganda; keep it in your pants tonight, ok; she's a darling thing, a darling thing, aren't you sweetie -- I can see why he fell for you; I couldda bent a contenter; yes, there was drugs taken in the White House -- and there was homosexual behavior, anal sex, in the Blue Room; take it like a man -- stop whining about your configuration; I was told that Bette Midler was going to be here; ok, I'll stroke it, only don't make any noise when you finish; I'd love to lick your little pin-cushion, sweetie -- if you've got the time, I've got the tongue; ROSEBUD; You're a mamma now, mamamma -- you need to act like one; hey, sweetheart -- we're all reds at this table -- we share and share alike our love; ROSEBUD; don't assume that I am not an objective man -- red, red, you say -- I would say, instead, that I am a bit more of a blue and gray;  news -- news is the gossip of drunk old men preparing to masturbate; you should know -- that's your fourth martini -- and you're holding a pickle in your hand; what, are you paying for this, Rosebud -- is that why you are counting; what are we doing here --I don't like these kind of things -- I'm not a red -- I'm a...a...a normal neurotic American man; remember, I'm due back on planet earth before the night ends; you wanted to meet the candidate, remember; we don't have to stay long -- I know you don't like Glenn Close; he has a very nice mouth, yes, he does; yes, my dear, that is real chest-hair; can I touch it just once; I am black and couldn't be prouder -- can't hear me now, I'll yell a little louder; who do you have to fuck around her to get a drink; I think I could make a movie of his life, call it Apocalypse Before; who is picking up the bill for this party; sometimes, driving down this road late at night, I get an uncontrollable urge to turn the car in to the oncoming headlights; BIG ROSEBUD -- to Kurt, whom I did not kill; he was a gentle man, with a kotex on his head; don't eat that, honey, it might be bad for you; whatever you say, dear -- ban the death penalty; yes, dear; a table full of apologists for weakness and filth; Crossmann should be put away for ever for what he did -- but he should not be executed; yes, dear; I am the son of an Englishman; this is my real hair; did you see where the Miami Herald reported that if the Florida Supreme Court had ordered a re-count of votes in Florida, Bush's lead in Florida would have tripled; you newsmen are a bunch of old coots beating your meat; how old are you, anyway; ROSEBUD -- SWEET ROSEBUD; however big your head is, that's how big you can be; I am an Englishman's son; he just wanted to fuck me -- and now he's got that Zeta-Jones bimbo -- I showed him with the damned rabbit though; the depth of an art is measured by the extent of the crater it leaves behind; the man has his own plane, dear -- clearly he's a man of substance; what do they mean by Rosebud -- I don't get it -- why is everyone saying Rosebud.  Is it some kind of sexual thing...?

      Crossmann hears this as he passed the southernmost table.

      "There is the monster, huh," Jewel says to Jerry Springer.  "I think he's kind of cute in person..."

      Crossmann nods to Jewel and smiles, slipping in to his chair.  TANTALUS.  TANTALUS.

 

Millenium Eve becomes Millenium Day.  Forecast of something raw.  Still dark.  The one who loves God the most is raised into glory.  All else is prosaic.  Nonsense.  The production of a failing reason.

      "May I suggest you start with the grilled sardine, Monsieur Crossmann," Michael de L'Odeon begins.   "We have a very lovely salmon steak with asparagus tips.  And perhaps a bordeaux.  And something chocolate for dessert...."

      Everyone else is already eating.

      Crossmann nods to Michael de L'Odeon, who is dressed like a prince.

      He is gone.

      Provocative nonsense.  Jesus as a naked woman with her breasts hanging down, surrounded by twelve black men all  ready to bounce her in the butt.  A sacrilege!  As if Jesus could be a woman.  Don't they understand the meaning of the word 'Son'?  It's an outrage.  It's anti-Catholic!  You can't make fun of anyone today except the Catholics!  You can't even make fun of midgets today!  But you can make fun of priests and nuns and Jesus!  Get over it!  Why can't a woman be Christ!  A woman gives birth to Christ!  The daughter is not the son!  That's funny: Cox surrounded by a bevy of cunts.  It's tantric energy.  Men are afraid of tantric energy.  How could a boy have two mothers -- I barely survived one!  They are afraid of the 'V-word' -- men.  They are afraid of the 'V' itself.  Yes.  General laughter.  To French miracles!  I am a sorcerer!  I am a Christian!  I am French!  God will protect me!  Eve is the Pied Piper.  She is leading women and the world to a different consciousness of the essence of women.  I feel my life has changed.  You don't just hook up with Eve, you become part of her crusade.  There's a corps of us who are Eve's army.  Soldiers for the Cross become Soldiers for the Pleasant Spasm.  I experienced my first orgasm at a hands-on tutorial called the 'Vagina Workshop'.  I felt such a strong connection to Eve, an overpowering connection as I lay there thrashing about on my little blue mat.  A room full of women, all thrashing about on their little colored mats.  It was like being back in kindergarten.  But, instead of napping, we were all touching little red riding hood.  To French miracles!  I am a sorcerer!  What is the dollar now, against the French Franc: 7.5?  Damn Americans -- they think they can buy all of France, all of Paris!  All your money does not make you a great culture!  Remember that!  The issue is militancy.  Will Crossmann lead the armies of the West on the great crusade?  Will he be the next....Charlamagne?  Do not utter so loudly.  Our Father listens above.  Secrets need to remain secrets.  Pope John will meet with him, then?  If it be the will of God?  It's ten o'clock at night; do you know where your clitorus is?  Major laughter.  Wine-dark sea.  Ulysses's dog huddled under the table, eating a bone.  I think I'd like a full canoli, if you please.  Cryptomania.  When does the music start?  The concepts all being about blood: Macbeth being a good example!  Is Crossmann like Macbeth, then?  We could make a case for it.  Here you are, sir -- the grilled sardines.  A glass of blood.  Crossmann orders several bottles of bordeaux for his table.  Everyone drinks with him.  To the French!  That is the man at the other table.  In Nomine Patri et Fillee et Spiritus Sancti.  To the health of the liver!  To the prostrate gland!  To the coming in again of religion!  To architecture -- the art of God!  To tapered tampons!  To the aristocracy!  To the Second Coming of Christ!  To William Yeats!  To James Joyce!  To the cute girl at Table Four!  To homosexual freedom!  To the ratings -- to the ratings!  Nothing personal, Michael -- it's show-business!  To the resurrection of the Cock!  Ted Kennedy is blushing.  To the sperm and to the egg!  To cometary matter!  To the re-birth of Russia!  To God's fabulous creation!  To Metatron!  To God of the Official Wisdom!  To the burning of the faggots!  To militant Amazons on Campus!  To one-titted women!  To Helen Heimkreiter!  To the beautiful Rosebud!  Sophie Tucker is blushing.  Jewel is blushing.  They are talking about ours!  So fresh still, like a May flower.  Use the knife with the flat edge to split the fish.  What is he, a barbarian!  Doesn't he know how to eat a fish!  He's from Wyoming!  Oh, yes!  He has much to learn!  Is he one of us -- that's the question!  I think he's one of no one.  What does that mean?  I think you are going to like the Dakota -- John and I loved it when we were together.  The art of nothingness.  The nothingness of art.  Donald Trump is having another glass of wine, smiling.  Oh, I'm coming!  Don't make a sound!  The handkerchief from the mouth, in the left hand, down below the table.  Milky Way.  Milky Way.  What does it matter?  It is Millennium.  Anything goes today.  It's a first amendment right, Rudy.  It's as simple as that.  He can say what he wants -- but we don't have to pay him for it.  I'm not trying to tell him what to say.  I'm just saying that if it's indecent, we won't pay him to do it.  A finger stuck in the head of a penis, is that art?  A cannister or something rammed up a rectum.  A man urinating in another man's mouth.  Please, we are trying to eat!  The world needs to be destroyed.  I was talking with His Holiness the other day -- and he sighed and said, yes, it is time.  For Malachi's prophecy?  Shhh!  No one is supposed to know about that!  There is such a thing as a good rape.  I know a twenty-four year old woman who raped a 13 year old girl and turned her vagina into heaven!  That is a good rape!  Lieutenant applause.  The sardines have bones.  The bone-knife splits the meat in two; leaving the bones behind.  The meat is white, tender.  You should have seen Glenn Close screaming cunt over and over again.  Did I hear my name?  And Brooke Shields prancing on stage with a vibrator.  Talk about the self-absorbed.  The self-infatuated.  What would women think if forty-thousand men got together on D-Day, Dick-Day, and masturbated together?  I did no such thing!  That is some kind of character assassination!  Where's your napkin?  It fell on the floor.  Care to show us what's inside of it?  Captain laughter.  Turning red.  Red face.  Red wine. Ted Kennedy telling an Irish tale about the man who stuck his head in the tub, under the water, hoping to see into the future.  The dickens you say!  I am the son of an Englishman.  Poor bastard -- he has no home.  That was a false report -- about Gore and Bush being arrested!  The Magician over there -- the crazy-looking Russian -- he planted the story.  Is he a populist or a conservative -- that's what I want to know!  He's been very talented walking that tightrope -- no doubt about it.  Can he be trusted, in Europe I mean?  Will he protect us from the crazy Moslems...?  His book suggested that America should come home.  I read that to say to hell with the Europeans!  Madonna, I hear you don't give head!  Slicing the meat along the back, splitting the white meat in two: a very attractive backside, even for a mother.  She is the mother now.  No foaming objects in the mouth of Madonna.  It smells like fish; but it tastes like chicken.  Sophie Tucker smiles at Crossmann, across a great divide.  Jewell also smiles at Crossmann, her mouth a lovely zero.  Such a lovely, tender age.  I did not betray no one.  That man -- he said he was working for the government.  He was going to find him a safe-house.  We knew you needed money -- for your drug deal gone sour.  Where did I leave off?  Who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate?  Nothing worse than a queer ghost!  Who lost their loveboy in Wyoming lashed to a frozen siberian fence.  The Good Shepherd does not forget -- but he does forgive.  Drinking blood again.  To the son.  Allelujia, allelujia!  Confiscate the animal.  Te Deum.  Te Deum.  Introibo ad altare dei.  David Blaine is in the hospital.  I just got the news.  Apparently they fear for his life.  David!  David!  David!  David!  Saying no to the material world is saying yes to the spiritual world.  Molly Bloom.  Molly Bloom.  Saying yes to the material world.  Molly Bloom.  Molly Bloom.  Touching herself below the table.  ROSEBUD.  Magnificent flower.  Of the heart.  Crossmann's heart.  Who knows it?  He's a bastard!  He's an impotent old king.  He's not impotent!  He wasn't impotent with me!  How was the sardines, sir?  Very good.  And the wine?  The blood of the king.  Very good.  Let me get you another bottle.  Touching something.  It feels good just to touch it.  Orson's well.  Incipient moment.  Father-daughter.  Mother-son.  The Vagina Workshop.  Every man should be forced to take a workshop on two things: toleration for homosexuals; and the delicate genius of the vagina.  Here, here.  Corporal smiling.  Ensign deft.  Michael pours the wine.  Raising the host.  Hosannah, hosannah, hosannah -- Heaven and Earth are filled with yhour glory.  The red wine on his lips, excoriating greed, excoriating lust, excoriating ambition, excoriating fear.  Down the throat and into the heart.  Rosebud.  The real rosebud.  The savior's heart.  Sacred season.  Into the stomach.  The fire is waiting.   A hooded man, sitting on a sidecar.  The Demon Barber.  He knows too much, smiling, behind his mask.  Men are the inferior creatures.  Fear drives them; not love.  And so they cannot love.  The man has to become a woman to be able to love.  And so we do them a favor by castrating them: we make them a woman: we make them whole again.  Yes, Adam was born from the rib of Eve.   Private glee.  He did not tell us about his epiphany after defeating the devil and driving him out of heaven.  Who?  Michael, the archangel.  He became the spirit of the father, driving the dark spirits out of his town, out of heaven.  He became a warrior.  And he turned his eyes on women, on the daughters of men.  He wanted to take his women back.  The women had been sleeping with the dark men.  And he was angry.   He wanted his women back.  And the first women he had sex with, after his rebirth, was Sari Beth Coven, a Jewess from New York.  He was Alpha; she was Beth.  He was Jacob; she was Sari.  She was a witch, I trust.  And he loved her vagina -- and he gave her pleasure.  But there were more women then, more women.  He was the warrior; and he chased women gravely, trying to put his cock into many velvet rosebuds.  That is the Fall.  but the Fall did not seem like a Fall.  For it was Life; and then, to him, Death seemed a Fall.  So it is.  Amen.  Amiens.  He shall not live through the night.  His brother is the first disciple.  Is Peter, then, the Magician.  Only Time will tell.  Falling in to Time.  Falling in to Numbers.  Falling in to language.  Nature first; then History.  His-story!  We should change the word to Theirstory!  Or Herstory!  Man comes from the woman; man goes back to the woman!  Verily, there is Nature, which is Herstory; and their is History, which is His-story.  Reactionary!  The circle is as the circle does.  ROSEBUD ROSEBUD.  Deus Vobiscum.  Here is your salmon, sir.  A large fish with head and tail.  Ahh.  Red meat.  Pink on the inside.  He uses a straight kife to open it up: warm and moist on the inside.  Split down the backbone.  Will there be anything else, sir?  Olives.  No, not at the moment.  You need to give Jim some money.  Why doesn't he talk to me?  He is ashamed.  Judas?  What?  Saduj see?  I can't understand your accent.  Howl, Howl against the dying of the light!  Shut that fat man up!  He hasn't changed his t-shirt in weeks!  He's an embarassment!  He's a Jew!  Oh, I see!  Who let him in?  I hear he's a friend of Crossmann's.  That's unfortunate!  He must have money!  He has no taste!  France is the land of, as we say, 'bon juif' -- good taste!  Yes, of course her breasts are real!  What about you, Catherine -- do you like oral sex?  Are you making me a proposition?  Flaccid laughter.  More wine, more wine.  The computer did not crash!  The right-wing has not taken over!  The Religious Right does not have an excuse to put us all in concentration camps!  Our wealth is intact!  There is much to be happy about!  Crossmann passed the salmon around his table; each person takes a taste.  The return of the salmon.  I, too, am a salmon.  Is the man mad?  I think he's drunk.  He's had a lot of wine.  Crossmann's tears; his eyes wet.  Sirens calling, a subtle thing, a subtle song.  ROSEBUD, THE VIRGIN ROSEBUD.  LOOK AT THE GIRL WITH A FLOWER IN HER HAIR.  Sophie Tucker.  Jewell too.  A Jew, is she?  And Zeta-Jones.  Lilac.  Lily.  Then a red rose.  LLRR.  12 plus 12; 18 plus 18.  24 and 36.  Sixty.  Where we come from and where we go.  The Earth.  The soil.  The flower in the thigh: ROSEBUD ROSEBUD.  WHO IS MY ROSEBUD?  The salmon is sweet, almost too sweet.  The eleven men at Crossmann's table -- and the one women -- each Crossmann's salmon.  Then they drink wine.  A toast: TO LIFE EVERLASTING!  God the Father; and God the Son.  He's the anti-Christ!  36!  You know what they say!  We must endure the rising of the anti-christ...!  He is no anti-christ.  He is the Christ!  Billy Graham has set his jaw.  If America is the Great Rome, then it stands to reason that the Christ will rise up in Rome and be crucified again.  He is the Messiah!  Chochmah-Binah!  Ain-Soph Nain-Soph!  Man is unable to reach spiritual fulfillment except through sexual and emotional union with woman's superior sexual energy.  It smell like wet garbage in here -- has some tail been wagging their dog?  Tired laughter.  Beth, where have you been?  I had to get the snow.  Check that napkin over there.  There is something strange in it -- some kind of snow.  We haven't had dessert yet -- but look at that!  Famous last word!  Some stupid man's famous last word, thinking with their drix.  Frank Lloyd Wright.  Architect of God.  Look at that rabble.  That's what happens when the republic is transformed into a democracy.  Everything is equal!  Yes!  Look at it!  He is the only figure on the political stage who at least has a claim to a divine origin!  Yes, we must support him for emperor!  We can, perhaps, get back in control of this country!  Overthrow these damned....cuntunists, chaosists and communists -- let the great families rule again!  The Washingtons, the Adams, the Jeffersons....where are they now?  They are lost amid the rabble!  They have fallen into the seas...!  A long leg of an asparagus.  In his mouth.  You could tickle me with that.  Sophie Tucker.  Says.  With her eyes.  Such a smart girl.  A smile.  I am all things; all things good and bad.  Here comes energy!  Here comes energy!  Ubermensch.  Ovenmensch.  Obermensch.  The three mensches.  Two chairs move; a third.  You'd better watch out, talking like that.  You'll begin to look like Mel Brooks in a minute.  Moe, Larry and Curly.  Ted Kennedy, Woody Allen, and the Mad Barber.  Giving a sigh.  Sign of the cross.  To the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.  Amen.  I have to use the toilet.  Le Toilet?  Oil, monsieur.  A la droite.  Around the circle -- past Jim.   Jim is saying -- he'll never understand.  Faramarz is saying: tell him you believe in loyality first; and in life only after that.  Some change on the table near Jim's plate.  Crossmann nods to Jim, passing.

      Down a hallway.  Two doors.  A sign above the door:

 

                                   

 

Crossmann thinks of Rosebud.

      He pushes open the bathroom door.  A man is standing before Crossmann with his pants down.  It is President Clinton.  He is having sex with a beautiful blonde, the woman named Beth, whose breasts are exposed.  Aleph and Beth.  On the counter near the sink is a rolled-up dollar bill and the remnants of cocaine on a small board.  Denise Rich is wiping her nose quickly, embarassed.  She is pushing a stack of money into Clinton's suit-coat pocket.

      Clinton cries: "Come on in, man!  You can watch!  Maybe you can have sloppy seconds if Beth has got the appetite -- which I think she does, judging from this first round...!"

      Denise Rich whispers something to Clinton.

      "Oh, yes," the President says.  "In my inside pocket!"

      Denise Rich reaches inside the President's suit-coat, pulling out a piece of paper.

      "I'm kinda busy here, pal!" Clinton says to Crossmann.  "Since you're probably going to be taking my place pretty soon, maybe you can sign this for me.  Just give it the old WJC, ok?  Those are your brother's initials, aren't they.  Remember, the M is just an upside-down W.  Go ahead and take care of this...."

      Crossmann looks at the paper.  It is a pardon for someone.

      "My husband," Denise Rich says.

      "What did he do?" Crossmann asks.

      "He didn't kill anybody," the woman replies.

      "She's buying me a new hourse or a library or something," Clinton says.  "And she supplies me with pretty play things, keeping me out of trouble.  It's a pretty sweet arrangement...!"

      "What did this man do?" Crossmann asks again.

      "He traded some commodities.  Go into a bit of trouble..." Clinton says.

      Beth is beginning to moan.

      "Oh, like your wife," Crossmann says.

      "Ah hah!  I like your sense of humor," Clinton says.

      Beth is giving off deep moans now; this makes Crossmann somewhat uncomfortable.

      Crossman signs "WJC" on the dotted line.

      "Thanks, man.  This is great.  I get the sex and the money -- and now you have committed a federal offense.  Forgery.  I'm really getting good at this job, really good.  If it hadn't a been for old FDR, I'd be back in the saddle for a third term -- I know it for a fact.  Now I'm just an over-the-hill actor, looking for a job -- getting as much as I can on my way out.  You'd never believe how much furniture Hillary and I stole from the White House before we left..!"

      Crossmann excuses himself, forgetting to relieve himself.  He wanders back to his table, his bowel still full.

      DESSERT.  ANYONE FOR DESSERT?  Sitting down again. 

      The first table is empty.  The old men have gone home.  Tantamount to nothing.  The cross a fever on the brain.  Under the yum-yum tree.  Apples falling; children collecting.  Fruit.  It is dusk.  Christianity begins to sleep.  HA HA HA!  So little understanding.  You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!  You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!  The Lord is a law!  The Lord is not a lawyer or or a banker or one with whom you can barter!  Things happen!  Shit happens!  One, two, three, four.  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.  Nine.  Ten.  A chocolate mousse.  Halle Berry.  A cherry on top.  Rosebud Rosebud.  Pocket full of bluebloods.  Obsessed with flesh.  The garden of our tears.

      Table two is starting to move.  Buckley is gone.  And the general laughter from France.  Bill Gates wants to talk about XML; but no one at the table understands the import of this.  X is 24; M is 13; L is 12.  59.  6 and 4 is 10 and three is 13.  XML will save Europe from an economic disaster.  They need to keep their faith.  When the dollar rises, we will begin to buy up all of Europe.  They will come to hate Americans even more, because of our good fortune.  The New World building itself atop the Old World.  The act before the excavation.  Standing atop the shoulders of old men.  They sink under the sand.  Ethnic cleansing in France, of all places.  The aristocrats, trying to strike back.

      Trump does not leave.  No one can wear him down; he will not leave early.  Except his wife has now arrived; and she is getting tired.  Ted Kennedy is tossing cards into a hat.  Making himself feel productive.  Telling stories about Doris Day and Marilyn Monroe.  Hot numbers in the sack: 4 plus 4 is 8; 13 plus 13 is 26.  Delectation of delectation.  He eats a coconut cream pie, dreaming hard.  Things used to be much better.  Things used to be so good.  He had a bad report from his doctor.  His body is unraveling.  All the promise of 1960: a new and better age.  Now everything so wooden.  And the wood being eaten by termites.  He drinks his whiskey, wondering where everyone has gone.

      Table three is intact.  Surly democrats not believing in extremes.  Question: What happens when the body dies?  Answer: Physical death renders the compound decomposed.  The spirit goes to the spirit; the soul to the soul; the higher mind to the higher mind; the lower mind to the lower mind; the emotional to the emotional and the physical to the physical, to the ground, into the grave.  Question: Where do I go in this case?  Answer: It depends where you have your identity.  If you identify with your body, you go into the ground.  If you identify with the spirit, the everlasting fire, you go back into the furnace of the Sun, into the Sun's Sun.  Question: Is the first-born greatest; or is the last-born greatest?  Answer: Watch the forest: grass first; then weeds; then the ferns come; then bushes; then small trees; then deciduous; then pines; then evergreen giants.  So with the family of men: each generation is greater than the one before it.  Question: But is not each generation the opposite of the one that precedes it?  Answer:  One generation is Day; the next generation is Night.  Each succeeding Day is greater in quality than the Day that preceeded it; each succeeding Night is greater in quality than the Night that preceeded it.  Question: This is during Life, of course.  What about during Death?  Answer: Death is nothingness: a great stew.  Vulcan's forge.  The mother's womb.  The seed falls into the mother's womb.  The seed grows, becomes a life; it falls again into the mother's womb.  Ever and ever.  Onward and onward.  Within the One is the Two; and Within the Two is the Three.  And Within the Three is the Four.  Consubstantiation.  Question: And what of women?  Answer: They are great and they are small.  The man rises above the woman; he is great and powerful.  The man sinks below the woman; he is weak and abyssmal.  The woman blows up his balloon, his ego, seeking to save him as the mother; and she breaks his balloon, when he grows too large -- and she becomes his seducer, his daughter.  Mother-daughter.  Mother-daughter.  Woody Allen.  Woody Allen.  Question: What of these Rounds?  Answer: Man puts on four skins; then man takes off three.  These are the seven Days and Nights of creation.  The first skin is the soul; the second skin is the mind; the third skin is the emotions; the fourth skin is the body.  Then he takes off the body; then he takes off the emotions; then he takes off the mind; then he stands in his original body, his soul, the body which does not die.  Question:  And this is the primordial, the Ancient, the one who does not die?  Answer: This is the aborigine, the first and the last.  The last and the first man.  Ever higher on the turn.

      Three chairs move.  Laughter again.  Everyone knows what has happened.

      Another pardon, I suppose.

      He eats the chocolate mousse.  A lovely African woman.  Dark and rich: bitter sweet.  Halle Berry.  Belly Hairy.  Yes.  Vagrant thought.  Rosebud, aborigine-wise.  Cries in the dark.  White skin on black skin.  She is able to absorb him.

      Rosebud.  A chair moves.  Two chairs.  Perhaps a third.  Crossmann eats deeply the chocolate sweet.  Carressing it with his tongue, the cherry being Belly Hairy's own little private bump.

      Rosebud.  Sophie catches his eye.  She signals him with her eyes to go back toward the restrooms.  Her chair makes a sound.  All the noise from table number four is arbitrary, factual, implying revolution is coming.  Crossmann does not hear it really.  He finishes his dessert.

      His own chair moves.  He is up.  Ineluctable fatality.

      Would you like coffee, sir?

      Tea, please.  Hot tea.  Earl Grey.

      He is moving again toward the bathroom.  MONSIEURS.  He pushes open the door.  The Demon-Barber is there, with a half-dozen boys, all dressed in khaki.  The Demon-Barber is the bald-headed man, the man who looks like Gordon Liddy.  He is shaving one boy's head in the bathroom.  They all have bald heads.  They are wearing swastika arm-bands; all are proud of them.  Another man is giving them tattoos -- and they are taking the pain without crying.  Each is having an eagle at the end of a staff burned into his arm.  One of the boys reminds Crossmann of John Preston.  The boy smiles at Crossmann; he shows Crossmann a hunting knife strapped to his jack boot....

      Crossmann shuts the door.

      The other door has a sign above it:

     

 

                                   

 

Crossmann goes inside sheepishly, hoping to use the bathroom.  Sophie Tucker is sitting on the counter, her dress pulled up around her waist.  She is not wearing her underwear.  Sophie is fifteen again.  She shows Crossmann her pussy.  It is so lovely, with a soft pattern of girl's hair sprinkled into an inverted triangle.  She opens her lips for Crossmann to see.

      "ROSEBUD," she says.  "This is the ROSEBUD."

      Crossmann undoes his belt.  His pants fall down to his ankles.  He pulls down his underwear, raising his shirt.  He shows Sophie his erect penis.

      "DOCTOR DRAGON," Crossmann says.

      "See how different we are," Sophie says.

      "As different as water and stone," Crossmann says.

      Sophie smiles.

      "Come give me your tree!" Sophie says.  "But it will cost you.  I am not Marguerite -- but it will cost you just the same.  But it will be worth it...!"

      Crossmann is in Sophie in a second.  She wraps her pretty young limbs around his back.  He feels his manhood be embraced by her warm liquid fire, the ocean of her nature, a volcano inside a frail form of soft fingers and jelly.  It feels good to him.  He feels the male element slip out again.  Then in again.  Sitrring her up.  In and out.  She is smiling, with her eyes closed.  Is this so wrong?  Is this some kind of sin?  That we love this ROSEBUD so much, that it guides us into hell and then into heaven?  The water-flame.  The water-flame.  Is this really such a sin...?

      Crossmann tries to kiss Sophie's face.  But now she is Jewel.

      "Yes," she says.  "If this is a fantasy, then please me too...!"

      Crossmann kisses her lips.  They have a taste of honey.  Soft and wet.  And narcotic.

      Then she is Sophie again.

      They are rising together, hips and thighs, approaching some climax.

      "Sophie!"

      "Michael!"

      "Sophie!"

      "Daddy!"

      Sophie is now Crossmann's own daughter, Christina. 

      No!

      It is not your blood!  Remember the DNA!

      "Don't stop!" the young girl says.

      Crossmann closes his eyes.

      "Sophie!" he says.  "I have thought of you often!"

      "I love you, dad!"

      "No, don't say that!"

      He opens his eyes.

      She is Jewel again.

      Natalie Merchant.

      "I'm almost there," Sophie's voice comes slanting in again.

      Then suddenly she becomes Catherine Zeta-Jones.

      "Yes, you are making me come!" she says, her voice sizzling, low, a low-burning fire.

      She starts to pulse and throb, jerking against him, rubbing herself against his stomach, his maypole.

      He lets himself go also, firing a jet of love deep into her water, spasm after spasm, emptying himself, expiring on the spot, all his strength becoming pinioned inside her.

      A comet embedded in a murky, primordial lake.

      His eyes are pressed shut, hard, cleaved shut.  He is pulsing, panting, trying to make no noise.

      When he stops throbbing he looks at Catherine.

      It is Christina instead.

      "I love you, dad!" she says sweetly.

      The door opens suddenly.  Cameras.  Flashing lights.  Tom Brokaw; Oprah Winfrey.  Two policemen, one white, one black.

      "That's his own daughter!" Oprah cries.

      "Technically it is not his daughter," Ted Clause, Crossmann's lawyer, argues.  "DNA will prove that this girl is not his own daughter...!"

      "She's only fifteen!  If he's not raping his daughter, then he's at least raping a minor!" Oprah responds.

      "This is not rape!  This is concensual sex.  An older man pleasing a younger woman.  They do it in Europe all the time...!"

      "Concentual sex!" Oprah replies.  "He has a thing for young children...!"

      "This is not a child!" Clause argues.  "She is a sex machine, a ripe little flower!  Men are programmed by nature to put their sex organs in ripe females!  It's a genetic necessity!  The survival of the race depends upon men pollenating the flowers of young girls!  Crossmann is saving the race by doing this!  He is reproducing himself, for the good of the society...!"

      "Is that really going to be your argument?" Tom Brokaw asks, holding out a microphone to Ted Clause.

      "You planted that girl here," Clause replies, panicking a bit.  "To try to entice Michael Crossmann to fall!  This is part of some great left-wing conspiracy to destroy Michael Crossmann's candidacy!  There must be an investigation of this conspiracy!  I demand it in the name of justice...!"

      Crossmann is taken out of the restaurant in handcuffs.

      A woman of about thirty-years, blind from birth, is waiting near the police car.  Her brother pushes her toward Crossmann as the police take him to the back door.  She is wearing a yellow raincoat, and sunglasses.  Her hair is the color of old twine.

      "I cannot see," she says.  "I wish to see!"

      "Go, then," Crossmann says.  "Go and see!"

      The woman grabs him around the chest, pushing her face toward him.  She whispers: "Thy word, God, is great!"

      Crossmann removes her dark glasses; kisses her left eye first; and then her right eye.

      The woman opens her eyes.

      "I can see!" the woman cries.

      "Watch your heard, degenerate!" the white policeman says, shoving Crossmann into the back seat of the police car.  Then he punches Crossmann under the right ribs, where Crossmann has been wounded.

      Crossmann winches in pain.

      "Fucking your own daughter!" the white policeman says under his breath.  "Wait until we get you back in the station house...!"

      The black policeman will drive.

      The boy selling newspapers cries: "Read all about it!  Michael Crossman arrested for sexually assaulting his own daughter...!"

      The taxi-driver is standing beside his taxi, watching everything, amazed at seeing his second miracle that night.

      "I know that woman," the taxi-driver says.  "She's been blind her whole life!  This is truly a miracle!  This is the second miracle I've seen tonight!  This is truly the millennium!  This is the beginning of some weird science!  Some weird sacrifice!  Dear God, have mercy on us....!"

      The police car races off into the night.

 

What is the crime in this?  What is the great sin when a man loves a woman -- even a very young woman -- and the woman offers him her ROSEBUD freely from her own heart -- what is the great sin in this?  DO YOU ASK A LEGAL OR A MORAL QUESTION?  Neither legal nor moral.  I ask a religious question.  CHURCH AND STATE ARE SEPARATED HERE.  YOU SPEAK AS THOUGH THE MORAL AND THE RELIGIOUS ARE NOT CONNECTED.  They are connected only at a base level.  A BASE LEVEL OR A PRIMARY LEVEL?  It depends on your perspective.  SOME WOULD SAY THAT RELIGION IS ALL MORALITY.  Some would say that religion is, instead, knowledge.  DEMONS MIGHT SAY THAT.  NAZIS MIGHT SAY THAT.  BUT MEN SAY THAT RELIGION IS ALL MORALITY.  I am not a man.  WHAT ARE YOU THEN?  I am more than a man.  A GOD, THEN?  IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE SAYING?  A man and more.  AND WHAT IS MORE IF NOT A GOD?  You know my system of thought.  You have observed it.  MAN AND SPIRIT AND DEMIURGOS AND GOD AS UNITY.  WHICH ARE YOU THEN?  Am I not all of these?  AT THE SAME TIME?  Indeed.  Am I not?  NOW YOU ARE ASKING ME THE QUESTIONS.  I have always been asking you the questions.  BECAUSE I AM YOU TWIN, YOU BELIEVE THAT I AM THE SAME AS YOU.  You are my shadow perhaps.  Without me there is no you.  IF I AM INDEED YOUR SHADOW.  PERHAPS I AM YOUR JUDGE INSTEAD.  I believe that you are.   You are my judge.  The shadows judge the living.  And then the living judge the shadows.  It is the endless cycle, is it not.  AND WHAT WHEN YOU BECOME THE SHADOW?  Then you are made of some substance.  THIS IS OBTUSE.  YOU ARE GETTING AWAY FROM THE POINT.  And the point is.  YOU KNOW VERY WELL.  THERE IS A LAW AGAINST FORNICATING WITH A MINOR.  A law.  Man's law.  YOU DISDAIN MAN'S LAW?  No.  If you will judge me by man's law, then do so.  Give to Caesar what is his; give to my father what is his.  AND GIVE TO YOUR DAUGHTER ALSO WHAT IS YOURS?  She was not my daughter.  She was my daughter's baby-sitter.  THAT IS NOT WHY YOU ARE HERE.  What?  YOU ARE NOT HERE BECAUSE OF A VIOLATED ROSEBUD.  YOU ARE HERE FOR A DIFFERENT REASON.  DON'T YOU REALIZE THAT?  Why am I here.  BECAUSE WE DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU.  WE LIKE YOU AND WE DON'T LIKE YOU.  WE BELIEVE YOU ARE ONE OF US; AND WE BELIEVE YOUR ARE ABOVE US, BETTER THAN US; BUT WE ALSO BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE BELOW US.  THIS ALL IS RATHER CONFUSING.  WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU.  What options do you have?  THERE ARE THOSE WHO WANT YOU DEAD.  Who are these?  NAMES ARE NOT IMPORTANT.  YOU HAVE DIVORCED MORALITY FROM RELIGION -- AND STILL YOU SAY THAT YOU ARE RELIGIOUS.  Yes.  YOU SPEAK OF RELIGION AS VISION, AS KNOWLEDGE.  HIS MORALITY NO PLACE IN THIS?  There is no vision without morality.  AHH.  SO, YOU ARE A MORAL MAN?  I am a man for whom morality has become secondary to destiny.  I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THAT.  ARE DESTINY AND MORALITY DIVORCED ALSO?  Not of necessity.  But a storm is not moral; and the sun returning in the spring is not moral -- still, these things occur.  OF NECESSITY?  Necessity is not the question.  If they return, then it is destiny.  It is not necessary that they return.  If they law breaks, and they do not return, this is also destiny.  I BELIEVE WE ARE DRIFTING FROM THE RELEVANT MATTER.  YOU HAVE MADE THE CLAIM THAT YOU ARE THE SON OF GOD, THAT YOU ARE, IN FACT, MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL INCARNATE.  AND THEN YOU ARE CAUGHT IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM FORNICATING WITH A FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD WHO LOOKS LIKE YOUR DAUGHTER.  HOW DO ALL OF THESE PIECES FIT TOGETHER?  YOU UNDERSTAND, OF COURSE, THAT ANY MAN CLAIMING TO BE THE SON OF GOD, MUST, BECAUSE OF CERTAIN RULES INHERENT IN THIS SYSTEM, MUST BE SACRIFICED.  NOW IT DOES NOT MATTER TO ME IF YOU WISH TO INSIST THAT YOU ARE THE SON OF GOD, THAT YOU ARE, IN FACT, MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL IN ONE MANIFESTATION, AND JESUS CHRIST IN ANOTHER.  I AM A MAN PATIENT WITH OBSESSION AND DREAM.  THE VISIONARIES OF THE OLD AGE WERE ALL TINGED WITH MADNESS.  AND I CAN ACCEPT A BIT OF MADNESS.  BUT THE OLD PRIESTS AND MINISTERS ARE ANGRY ABOUT YOUR CLAIM TO GODHOOD.  THEY WOULD LIKE TO HAVE ME SILENCE YOU.  ON THE OTHER HAND, THE ATHEISTS HAVE ALSO RUN OUT OF PATIENCE WITH YOU.  THEY FEAR YOU WILL ASCEND TO POWER, BECOME THE FIRST IN A LINE OF EMPERORS -- THEY CLAIM THAT YOUR INITIAL 'M' STANDS FOR MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL AND YOUR INITIALS 'JC' STAND FOR JULIUS CAESAR.  THEY TELL ME YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF WOMEN AND AN ENEMY OF DEMOCRACY.  WHO AM I TO BELIEVE?  I TELL YOU, IN ALL HONESTY, I WOULD JUST LIKE TO LET YOU GO TONIGHT.  I AM NOT TOO KEEN ON BEING HERE.  YOU HAVE PUT ME IN A VERY STRANGE POSITION.  I AM IN A LOSE-LOSE SITUATION.  IF I AGREE TO YOUR EXECUTION, THEN I RISK A REVOLT BY THE POPULATION.  YOUR POPULARITY HAS NEVER BEEN SO GREAT.  THERE ARE MEMBERS OF THE ARISTOCRACY WHO ARGUE THAT YOU SHOULD BE FREED, THAT MOLESTING YOUR GIRLS IS THE RIGHT OF THE ARISTOCRACY -- AND THAT YOU ARE REALLY ONE OF THEM IN DISGUISE.  YOU ARE AN ARTIST, AND A POET, AND THAT ARTISTS HAVE A RIGHT AND A NEED TO MOLEST BEAUTIFUL GIRLS.  AND I AM INCLINED TO AGREE WITH THEM.  BUT IT IS NOT SO EASY.  THE PRESS -- YOU KNOW WHAT THEY ARE LIKE.  THROW THE DOGS A FLANK OF RARE MEAT -- AND WATCH THEM BATTLE TO GET THE BLOOD ON THEIR TEETH.  THEY ARE OUT THERE RIGHT NOW, DEMANDING YOUR BLOOD.  THEY HAVE PUBLISHED PICTURES IN THE DAILY NEWS, YOU WITH YOUR PANTS AROUND YOUR ANKLES -- AND LITTLE SOPHIE OR JEWEL OR MAGGIE THE ACTRESS OR WHOEVER THE GIRL MIGHT HAVE BEEN ALL OPEN AND WHISTLING AN IRISH TUNE, YOU KNOW.  IT HAS STIRRED UP THE WORLD QUITE A BIT -- ALL OVER REALLY, MOSCOW, BEIRUT, JERUSALEM, PARIS, LONDON, PEKING, BARCELONA -- IT'S REALLY THE ONLY NEWS ON THE TELEVISION AND NEWSPAPERS.  YOU'RE FAMOUS NOW ALSO AS A DILLY-DALLY, AS WELL AS A HANGER OF YOUNG CRIMINAL BOYS.  SO, WHAT AM I TO DO WITH YOU?  I KNOW YOU'RE NOT RED.  AND I DON'T THINK YOU'RE A REVOLUTIONARY.  DO YOU LOVE THIS COUNTRY?  Yes.  AND YOU BELIEVE IN GOD, I GUESS.   IF YOU THINK YOU ARE GOD, THEN I GUESS YOU MUST BELIEVE IN GOD.  I MUST SAY THAT I AM A BIT SURPRISED THAT SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN AGAINST YOU TO ME.  YOU SEEM LIKE A DECENT MAN TO ME, THE FORNICATING ASIDE -- I HAVE DONE SOME FORNICATING MYSELF, LEGAL AND ILLEGAL, NOT ILLEGAL, MARITAL AND NON-MARITAL, AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT IT WAS NEVER WITH A MEAN SPIRIT, NEVER INTENDED TO HURT ANYONE, JUST TO GIVE AND TAKE A LITTLE PLEASURE FROM LIFE.  PERHAPS THAT IS THE PROBLEM WITH IT -- PERHAPS US MEN ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE PLEASURE IN THIS LIFE.  WHEN WE DO, WE SEEM TO BE PILLORIED FOR IT.  I AM NOT AGAINST YOU -- REALLY, I WISH THIS WHOLE THING WOULD JUST BLOW OVER AND WE'D BE ALLOWED TO OPEN UP OUR BACK DOOR AND LET YOU WALK ON BACK TO OREGON.  EUGENE IS A STRANGE NAME FOR A TOWN, DON'T YOU THINK?  EUGENE COMES FROM THE WORD 'EUGENESIS' WHICH IS A FORM OF THE WORD 'GENESIS', THE BEGINNING, OR THE ORIGIN.  IT IS ALSO RELATED TO THE WORD 'EUGENICS' WHICH IS THE STUDY OF THE SUPERMAN, TO BORROW FROM OUR MUTUAL FRIEND HERR NIETZSCHE, OBERMENSCH AND UBERMENSCH.  THAT ALL PROBABLY RELATES TO NOTHING.  YOU HAVE PUT ME BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE, CAN'T YOU SEE.  I REALLY HAVE NOTHING AGAINST YOU -- BUT THESE OLD RELIGIOUS LEADERS, FALLWELL AND THE OTHERS, THEY REALLY WANT TO SHUT YOU UP NOW.  THEY THINK YOU ARE A....HERETIC, A HERESIARCH.  THEY CALL YOU THE ANTI-CHRIST. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS ALL ABOUT.  BUT THEY WANT US TO GET RID OF YOU, TO MAKE YOU DISAPPEAR, TO HANG YOU FROM SOME TREE AROUND HERE.  THEY HAVE EVEN MENTIONED THAT TO ME.  I CAN'T HELP BUT SEE THAT YOU ARE BLEEDING THROUGH YOUR WHITE SHIRT THERE, DOWN ON YOUR RIGHT SIDE.  WHAT IS THAT ALL ABOUT?  Your officers beat me in the station house.  AND THIS MADE YOU BLEED LIKE THAT?  I had a wound on my side.  They opened the wound with their beating.  WHO BEAT YOU?  The white office and the black officer.  THE ONE WHO LOOKS LIKE MEL GIBSON?  Yes.  AND THE ONE WHO LOOKS LIKE DANNY GLOVER?  Yes.  YES.  WELL, I'LL HAVE A WORD WITH THEM.  THEY WERE PROBABLY UPSET THAT YOU WERE FORNICATING WITH YOUR DAUGHTER.  THERE IS A TABU AGAINST THAT, NOW ISN'T THERE?  IF THERE WASN'T, SOCIETY WOULD PROBABLY NO LONGER WORK.  IT WOULD PROBABLY BE THE END OF US AS A PEOPLE.  SO, YOU UNDERSTAND THEIR OUTRAGE.  THERE WILL HAVE TO BE A TRIAL.  Why?  BECAUSE YOU ARE LEADING IN THE LATEST POLL FOR THE PRESIDENCY BY.... I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS....30 SOME PERCENT.  A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE SCARED TO DEATH THAT A THIRD-PARTY CANDIDATE WILL UPSET THE WHOLE APPLE CART.  WE HAVE A GOOD LIFE HERE, ONE THAT CAN BE ATTRIBUTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF A DEMOCARATIC SOCIETY.  SOME PEOPLE THINK YOU MEAN TO OVERTHROW THIS WAY OF LIFE.  TO INVITE ROME IN TO AMERICA, TO MAKE AMERICA SOME KIND OF THEOCRACY OR PAPACY.  THEY KNOW YOU ARE A CATHOLIC, AT LEAST YOU USED TO BE A CATHOLIC -- AND THIS SCARES SOME PEOPLE.  John Kennedy and Ronald Reagan were both Catholics.  THAT'S DIFFERENT NOW.  THEY WERE NORMAL AMERICANS, ONE A DEMOCRAT AND THE OTHER A REPLICAN.  YOU'RE A...WHAT?  WHAT IS YOUR PARTY ANYWAY?  I have no name for my party.  I am, myself, my party.  YOU SEE, THAT'S A PROBLEM.  I believe in the two-party system.  I just think the Republicans and the Democrats have become so much alike that they are now one party -- and I have become the second party.  WHAT'S YOUR PARTY NAME?  YOU HAVE TO HAVE A PARTY NAME.  Call it the Millennium Party then.  OH, THAT'S A GOOD ONE.  THE MILLENNIUM PARTY.  LIKE IT'S A FESTIVAL OR SOMETHING.  A FIESTA.  A FIESTA THAT ONLY COMES AROUND EVERY ONE THOUSAND YEARS.  YOU GO STEALING SECRETS FROM NATURE AND PUBLISHING THEM IN BOOKS AND TALKING ABOUT THEM ON TELEVISION, THINGS ARE BOUND TO GET HARD FOR YOU.  I'M NO PONTIUS PILATE YOU UNDERSTAND, I'M NO CONNECTION TO YOUR HISTORICAL FANTASY.  HELL, HIMMELMANN WANTS YOU BACK THERE. HE WANTS TO LOCK YOU UP AGAIN IN THE BASEMENT OF HIS CASTLE, LABEL YOU A SCHIZOID MANOPHRENIC, AND KEEP YOU IN HELL FOR AN ETERNITY.  THAT DAMN CASTLE IS FULL OF PEOPLE WHO THINK THEY ARE JESUS CHRIST.  AND I COULD THROW YOU IN THERE WITH ALL THE OTHERS AND LET YOU BABBLE UNTIL YOU ARE BLUE IN THE FACE.  BUT I'M NOT GOING TO DO THAT.  I NEVER DID LIKE THAT DAMN HIMMELMAN.  I WON'T GIVE HIM THE SATISFACTION.  BUT THERE WILL HAVE TO BE A TRIAL.  KAFKA WILL HAVE NOTHING ON THIS TRIAL, I GUARANTEE YOU.  IT WILL BE A REAL HELLZONE.  A FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH AND HELL-RAZER ALL ROLLED IN TO ONE.  BUT IT WILL BE A FAIR TRIAL.  IT WON'T BE ABOUT YOU PORKING SOME FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL.  IT WILL BE ABOUT YOUR DIVINITY.  AND IF YOU ARE FOUND GUILTY OF BEING DIVINE, IN YOUR PRIMARY NATURE, THEN THERE WILL BE NOTHING I CAN REALLY DO FOR YOU.  AND IF YOU BE FOUND INNOCENT OF BEING DIVINE, AND FOUND GUILTY, INSTEAD, OF BEING A MAN, THEN YOU MIGHT GET OFF, AT LEAST YOU MIGHT BE SENT BACK TO BELLEVIEW, BACK DOWN IN THAT DUNGEON WHICH CAN'T REALLY DO ANY MAN MUCH GOOD.  IF I WERE YOU I WOULD CLAIM THAT THE WHOLE THING IS JUST A DREAM.  THAT YOU WERE SLEEPWALKING.  WALKING ON SOME TIGHTROPE, SOMEWHERE BETWEEN DANTE AND JOHN MILTON, IN THE SHADOWS OF JAMES JOYCE.  YES, TELL THEM ALL IT IS JUST A LITERARY HALLUCINATION, WITHOUT REALITY, A MANIFESTATION OF UNCONSCIOUS OBJECTS.  THEY'LL PROBABLY LET YOU GO, IF YOU SAY THAT.  I CAN SEE NO OTHER WAY OUT OF THIS FOR YOU.  EITHER SAY IT IS A DREAM -- OR YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF CAUGHT BETWEEN SCYLLA AND CHARIBDYS.  AND I DON'T MEAN WITH A PADDLE!  What am I being charged with?  Being a man; or being a god?  A MAN CAN'T HAVE SEX WITH HIS DAUGHTER IN THIS COUNTRY, FRIEND; I SUPPOSE A GOD CAN.  HOWEVER, A MAN CAN BE PRESIDENT OF THESE UNITED STATES; BUT I'M NOT SURE WE'RE READY YET TO BE GOVERNED BY A GOD.  IF YOU SAY YOU'RE A MAN, THEN YOU'LL GO TO PRISON FOR STATUTORY RAPE.  IF YOU SAY YOU'RE A GOD, WELL THEN SOMEONE IS GOING TO TRY TO CRUCIFY YOU.  THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS.  IF I WERE YOU, I'D JUST SAY I PASSED OUT AFTER THE LAST TRIAL.  JUST SAY YOU WERE TIRED, WEAK FROM YOUR WOUND.  YOU WENT UPSTAIRS IN YOUR HOUSE, SAT DOWN IN A COMFORTABLE CHAIR, AND PASSED OUT.  HOW IS ANYONE GOING TO BE ABLE TO ARGUE WITH THAT?  CAN YOU TELL ME THAT?  I THINK YOU OUGHTA THINK OVER THESE THINGS I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU.  AND THEN LET US KNOW, UNDER OATH, WHETHER THIS WHOLE LIFE OF YOURS IS THE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH OR WHETHER IT'S JUST SOME LITERARY PHANTASM YOU'VE BEEN MAKING UP FOR FUN, SO HELP YOU GOD...!

 

It is easy to see in the dark.  It is all a matter of assembling shadows, building them one up on the other.  Darkness is like light itself, a gradation of patterns of light.  Or non-light, if you will.  Absolute darkness is something else.  But, even here, even in this very dark place, light comes in to the room, pieces of light, specks of broken filaments of light, trickling like a weak stream in a desert, the sound shattering the silent sensation of dead air and elevating dead air to something less rigid, something with value.  The dark gray becomes light gray.  Then the gray spectrum begins to divide, illuminating a world as rich and varied as a sun-drenched painting of Monet or Manet.  Light being the inverse of darkness.  Inversion being just another way of seeing the same thing one once saw, a triplicate pattern, bunched with shadow, curvilinear space being border by slants of shade, each being a temperature several degrees cooler or lighter than its neighbor.

      A black man in the cell next, a low voice, deep, wounded, sounding demonic.

      "Hey, Crossmann, I got a message for you."

      The voice of the devil meits no response.  Television playing somewhere.  The voice of that curly-headed man, Regis Philbin.  How would you like to be.....King for a Day?  Going back.  1950's baby.  One shoe on; one shoe off.  The blonde radio cabinet, with a phonograph player.  A voice coming out of the box.  My mother in an apron and a dress.  Legs coming out.  Arms coming out.  Hair.  A person life, still there, still near enough to touch.

      "Hey, Crossmann.  You in there man?"

      In here somewhere.  Further in than out.  A gray12 spider moving across a gray3 cotspread.  A gray5 human hand, his own, moving an inch away, letting the spider pass.

      A human boy, with a human mother.  A human father.  A human brother and a human sister.

      Long ago.

      Before the death transformed him, the lost love, the lost father, the claimed angel, the phonetic God, the word becoming a living thing, a man down from the sky, the sword, Metatron, the black angel, the mad scientist, the foam in his mouth, deliverer of Cain, impediment to joy, the castigator of the decency, rebel legacy against the father's word, crusher of small dreams, the rosetta stone of poverty: the knife in the gut.  His and then mine.  The magician.  Magic show; magic mirror.

      "Crossmann, damn you!  You think I'm talking for my own good!  Someone knows you down here!  He wants to get you out...!"

      Shit!

      No one knows me down here!  I am in a place where no one knows me.  A toilet flushing.  The sounds of too much time spent in shadows.  Naked lightbulbs swinging in the sky.  False god of illumination.  Blood on his shirt again.  The wound still alive.  Gloaming.  Sounds of breathing.

      "Jim is down here!  He's trying to get a message to you...!"

      Jim!

      "What are you talking about?" Crossmann replies.  "Jim?  How is Jim down here...?"

      "Smack, man.  Possession of smack.  What are you, deaf?  I been calling you for an hour, man!  You gotta wake up down here, man!  Wake up -- or you'll never get out...!"

      It is a dream.  A bad dream.  He remembers being tied to a post, being whipped by leather strips.  A dream also about his father.  He was standing near a creek in the mountains, near Brush Creek, fishing with his fly pole, gracefully casting, dropping the nightcrawler at the base of a ripple, letting the undercurrent take the bait under the far rock.  Then a strike.  A brook trout -- God's finest creature -- taking the hook and running, the tip of the pole bending; Jake Crossmann lifts the trout out of the stream back toward his son, Michael.  A dream with a dream.  Cognate of appeal. 

      "What does Jim say?"

      "He don't say much, man!  He can meet you near the shower in the morning.  That's what he says..."

      "Is it night or is it day?" Crossmann asks.

      "You're some kinda crazy blind bastard or what?  Of course it's night.  Can you see the sky?  Can you hear birds singing?  Can you see yo' mama standing on the platform near the train, welcoming you home...?"

      Crossmann says nothing.

      Dreams come easily in the dark.  A failed marriage.  A bad dream.  The kind of dream that corrupts everything it touches.  Perhaps I was not meant to wed.  Perhaps the priest's life was meant for me.  Priest of light and priest of darkness.  Day and night.  Measuring its appeal.  Cognate of action: moral and legal -- cognate of vision: ethical and obermunchenmen.  God tells you what to do.  He tells the wind to blow.  He tells the lighting to crack.  He tells the rain to fall.  He tells you to be someone.  The word becomes flesh.  There is nothing you can do but become what you are.

      BACK TO THIS AGAIN?  What?  Is that you?  A DIFFERENT ME.  I know.  I can tell by your voice.  HOW MANY OF US ARE THERE IN HERE?  One.  And you: Two.  And then another.  VOICES ONLY.  An entire creation.  YOU CAN ALWAYS PLEAD INNOCENT BY REASON OF VOICES.  We are voices, aren't we?  Many voices.  Many voices and many tendencies.  Dodacahedron.  PLATONIC FUSE.  Exactement.  YOU ARE NEARING THE END -- DO YOU REALIZE THAT?  The end of what?  THE END OF THIS FUSE.  THE END OF THIS ADAGGIO.  OPERA A PRES DE FINI.  It is dark in here.  DARKER THAN YOU KNOW.  Damaged view: the brother's pessimism.  IF YOU EXPECT THE WORSE, THEN YOU WILL ALWAYS BE PLEASANTLY SURPRISED.  That is one view -- of course, by expecting the worse you may, in fact, invent the worse.  WE ARE WHAT WE BELIEVE?  A broken-down suitcase to a hotel someplace.  TOM WAITS.  Your vision at twenty-four.  A SACRED DEFEAT IT WAS IT WAS!  Not necessary thought.  IT WAS IT WAS.  Because you said no to everything else.  WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO SAY YES TO?  To life.  To being rich.  To having a family.  To building a dream.  LIKE YOU DID?  Perhaps.  YOU DID NOT DO SO WELL.  It does not matter how well you do; it matters that you try to do well.  SAPPINESS OF THOUGHT, OF COURSE.  NEITZSCHE DID NOT PRETEND THAT.  Nietzsche wanted to be beaten like a dead horse.  He wanted to be sodomized by an angry prelate.  WATCH WHAT WORDS YOU CHOOSE.  YOU ARE IN A DANGEROUS PLACE.  Why am I here?  DREAMS.  BAD DREAMS.  WE ALL HAVE THEM.  AND, OF COURSE, THAT YOUNG GIRL.  AND THIS CRAZY DREAM OF POWER.  THAT WAS MY DREAM FIRST.  BUT THEN IT CAME TO YOU.  THE RULERS FEAR YOU.  THAT'S WHY YOU ARE HERE.  IT'S YOUR ROMAN NOSE PROBABLY.  You have the Roman nose.  You and dad.  IT DOESN'T MATTER.  WHEN IN ROME, YOU KNOW.  HOW LONG WILL YOU STAY HERE?  I don't know.  I must stand trial they say.  FOR WHAT?  For the young girl.  DID YOU KILL A YOUNG GIRL?  No, I had sex with her.  SHE IS BEAUTIFUL.  THAT IS EVERYMAN'S DREAM.  WHAT INSANITY IS THAT -- TO MAKE THAT ILLEGAL?  WHAT ELSE?  What do you mean?  WHY ELSE ARE YOU HERE?  No, that it is.  Statutory rape.  It is illegal to have sex with a girl who is less than sixteen, even if she consents.  IT IS THE FACT THAT WE FEAR INCEST.  A MAN HAVING SEX WITH A YOUNG GIRL REMINDS US OF INCEST, OF SEX BETWEEN A FATHER AND A DAUGHTER.  THAT FRIGHTENS US.  SO WE PERSECUTE YOU FOR DOING WHAT WE ALL WOULD LIKE TO DO.  The trial will be more complex.  OF COURSE.  THEY WISH TO SHUT YOU UP.  Why?  I say almost nothing.  THE LESS YOU SAY THE MORE TROUBLE YOU BECOME.  MEN WHO TALK ALWAYS BETRAY THEMSELVES.  MEN WHO ARE SILENT ARE HARD TO JUDGE, HARD TO CONTROL, HARD TO BLACKMAIL.  YOU MUST REMEMBER THAT THERE ARE TWO FALLS: FIRST THE ANGEL FALLS AND BECOMES A MAN; NEXT THE MAN FALLS, AND, IN THE END, RE-BECOMES AN ANGEL.  YOU MUST REMEMBER THAT THERE ARE TWO DOORS INVOLVED, TWO SIDES OF THE WORLD.  Yes.  I do remember this.  I try.  SO, WHAT NOW?  I don't know.  I am frozen here.  I cannot move.  DO YOU WISH TO MOVE?  Yes.  I wish to be away from here.  IF YOU WISH TO LEAVE, OPEN YOU DOOR -- PUSH ON IT.  What?  YOUR DOOR IS NOT LOCKED.  PUSH ON IT....

      Crossmann pushes on his cell door.  The door swings open.

      GO DOWNSTAIRS TO THE SHOWER.  JIM IS THERE.

      Crossmann leaves the cell and walks up the hallway in silence.  The other criminals watch him walk, saying nothing, holding their breath.

      Down the stairs, two flights.  Up the hall toward the showers.  Ugly light, hard light, lying against the walls where many men have experienced pain and fear.  Horrible place.  Worse than death.  Managers of hell and their suffering souls of retribution.  Dante would know fear here.

      At the shower, Jim is in his uniform: CRE111.

      "Jim," Crossmann says.

      "Don't talk!  I need to get you out of here!"

      "How?"

      "I have my ways!"

      "Then you must leave too!"

      "That's not such a good idea!" Jim says.  "I've got more enemies out there than I do in here."

      "I can get you money, to take care of your problem!" Crossmann says.

      "I think it's gone beyond that, friend!" Jim says.  "I let you down, man -- when I told that Lou Rawls-lookin' dude the secret handshake, you know, the secret knock on the door...!"

      "Why did you do that?"

      "Man, you are the enemy -- don't you get it!" Jim replies.  "You are the enemy of the black man.  You represent the triumph of the white man on this earth.  That's what Michael the Archangel is all about!  The triumph of the white man over the black man...!"

      "He told you that?"

      "Yeah.  He and some other people.  They say you want to keep us down...?"

      "Does God care about the color of you skin -- or the color of your heart...?" Crossmann asks.

      "You do double-talk.  Double-plus-good and all that repo-rap, man!  I don't talk that talk!  I talk the what-good-have-you-done-for-me-lately talk talk....!"

      "So why this?" Crossmann asks.  "Why help me now...?"

      "I owe you one," Jim says.  "You know why!"

      "No, I don't!"

      "Come on, man!  You helped me when I was a kid.  In Salt Lake City.  Remember, on the bus.  You and your brother.  You bought me a ticket.  And you gave me some money for food...."

      "We are even.  You have already paid me back for that," Crossmann says.

      "No.  Not yet.  I must take you to the other side."

      "Is that your responsibility?"

      "Yes.  Let's go."

      Jim gives Crossmann his army coat back.

      A door swinging.  A huge red door -- opening.  A church.  A huge arching roof, damaged by something.  Dusty, dank.  Large stones have fallen from the ceiling, damaging a few pews and the tile floor of the church.  Off to the right, a young boy has been hanged near the confessional.  His body is swinging at the end of the rope.  His pants are down around his feet.  There is blood on the young boy's legs, below his buttocks.

      A red-eyed priest with a military rifle is sitting in the confessional, the door open.  He is watching the body.  He has no pants on.  He is drinking a bottle of Wild Turkey, smiling wretchedly at Crossmann.  Several teeth are missing from the front of his mouth.

      Crossmann takes the pistol from his coat pocket and raises it at the priest.

      The priest mutters something in an Eastern European language, Bosnian or Croatian.

      Crossmann says: "You are under arrest for murder!"

      The priest laughs.  "You know me, friend.  Remember.  We are old friends...!"

      Crossmann is not smiling.

      The priest puts the muzzle of the rifle up under his mouth and squeezes the trigger.  A terrible explosion.  His head flies back; his body slumps into the shadows of the confessional.  His bent right leg squirms out in to the light, motionless.  Blood and brain matter run down the wall of the confessional.

      Jim has a knife -- a hunting knife.  They cut the boy down from the rafter.  Crossmann catches his body as it falls.

      Crossmann carries the dead boy out the back of the church.  He thinks of buryiing the boy.

      But there are thousands of bodies outside the church-- a mountain of bodies.

      "Your son is out there somewhere," Jim says.

      "What?"

      "Your son, Thomas.  The one you aborted."

      Crossmann sets the hanged boy's body down at the edge of the mountain of corpses. 

      "Where is he?" Crossmann asks Jim.

      "Over there!" Jim says, pointing.  "I saw him wandering out there somewhere before..."

      The sky is red.  Crossmann begins the climb the mountain of bodies.  They are not all boys.  Boys and girls.  Murdered children.  Aborted bodies.  Somehow they have grown from the mass of cells, clotted blood, they were at their death, into actual bodies of boys and girls.

      "Thomas!" Crossmann cries.

      "Father!"

      The voice sends a cold blade into Crossmann's body.  A shudder.  A sense of guilt, anguish.

      "Thomas!"

      "Father!"

      "Where are you, Thomas?"

      The higher Crossmann gets climbing up the mountain of dead children the more he can see into the valley.  There is not just one mountain of dead children.  The mountain stretches for miles.  Millions of corpses.  They look like naked dolls in a garbage dump.  But they are real.

      "Thomas!"

      "Father!"

      "Where are you?  Raise your hand, if you can!"

      Crossmann strides across the hillside of dead babies.  Stumbling, falling.  Their faces twisted in fear, in anguish.  Tortured children.  Some seem to be breathing.  Many of them still seem to be breathing.  Some of the corpses open their eyes, looking at Crossmann with confusion.  What did I do?  What did I do...?

      "Thomas!"

      "Father!"

      What is this nightmare?  What provokes it?  This hatred of children.

      "Father!"

      Crossmann tries to run to his son.  Perhaps his son is still breathing.  White children, black children, yellow children, red children; even brown children.  Helpless as puppies.  Dead puppies.

      Crossmann sees some movement far in the distance.  Sees smoke; hears the sound of a motor.  A yellow cab.  Someone operating an earth-mover.  Someone burying the children.

      But it is so far away.  There is so much work to do.

      Crossmann hears a metal door opening behind him.  He turns.  Some kind of factory.  The metal door sliding up.  On a conveyor belt are hundreds of dead babies.  Harod.  Crossmann thinks of Harod.  Is it the first-born, always, that the world fears most? 

      "Father!"

      Crossmann hurries over the peak of one burial mound down into the valley of another.  Trying to be careful about stepping on the faces of the corpses.  It is amazing that they do not smell.  They smell like a field of daisies.

      Crossmann is suddenly standing in a field of daisies.

      "Father!"

      Crossmann hears his son's voice down by the stream.

      He hurries down to the water.  Crossmann finds his son sitting beside the stream, watching the water flow.  His hair is black, his eyes hazel.  His face has a delicate cut; his lips are shy, hesitating.

      "Thomas!" Crossmann cries, throwing his arms around his son.  Holding him against his chest, feeling his heart beating.  Two hearts beating in one heart.

      "I have forgiven you, father," Thomas says.

      "What?"

      "For killing me," Thomas says.  "I have forgiven you."

      "You should not forgive me, Thomas!" Crossmann says.  "What I have done is not forgiveable!"

      "You were afraid of responsibility!  And you did not love mother!  Not really!  You never really loved mother!  You did not want to marry her...!"

      "How do you know so much?"

      "You knew she did not love you -- so you never really loved her," Thomas says.  "She wanted to kill me.  I have a sister who she killed before me, who she fathered with another man.  Forget about her.  Go forward.  Good things await you.  I love you, father.  I have forgiven you.  Death is not what it seems.  It is a curtain.  You cannot see in here -- but we can see out there..."

      Crossmann looks in to the water.  He sees his reflection in the silent green pool -- but no reflection of his son.

      "We do not have reflections," Thomas says, reading his father's mind.  "That is the difference between the living and the dead.  The dead have no reflections -- no physical reflections -- only mental reflections..."

      "Whom should I trust?" Crossmann asks.

      "Yourself.  Your God.  Your angel," Thomas responds.

      "And what of men?"

      "Keep your friends close to you.  But keep your enemies even closer," Thomas says, imitating Marlon Brando as the Godfather.  Smiling.

      Crossmann dimly hears a siren in the distance.

      "Crossmann!  Crossmann!  Wake up!  We gotta get outta here...!"

      It is Jim's voice.

      Crossmann is lying amid the corpses of children.  He is looking into the eyes of a boy, a beautiful boy, with black hair and hazel eyes.  Thin, immaculate lips.

      "You passed out, man!  Are you alright?" Jim asks.  "I hate being out here, man!  This is no good!  We gotta go!  The police are coming...!"

      Crossmann is up with Jim, running back toward the abortion factory, the southern facade of the hospital.  Falling over corpses, trying to get back down the mountain of children's bodies.

      Crossmann starts back in to the building -- but Jim stops him.

      "Follow me!" Jim says.

      There is a secret door, hidden under rubble.  Jim opens the door -- but he stops Crossmann. 

      "You can't go in here looking like that!" Jim says.

      "Like what?" Crossmann asks.

      "Looking so white!" Jim says.  Jim takes the black shoe polish from Crossmann's coat, the same polish that the Magician gave Crossmann.  He paints Crossmann's face black with the polish.  Taking off Crossmann's glasses, the Magician's glasses, to paint around the eyes.  Then putting the glasses back on.  He also paints his hands.

      "Ok," Jim says.  "You look better now."

      They both enter the dark underworld through the secret door, following steps leading further and further inside the earth.  Feeling their way in darkness.  Rats and bats and snakes in Crossmann's mind.  Fear of a sudden end.   A light finally.  A bare lightbult.  Steps.  Through double doors.  Some kind of rally.  Thousands of people cheering.  Stamping and cheering.  Black cloaks and black hoods.  Pointed black hoods.  A man on the podium, a small black man, addressing the crowd, behind a mask:

 

"I don't give a damn what you say about me, you bagel-eating, hook-nose, lox-eating so called Jew.  The so- called Jew is Jew-wish--he wishes he was a Jew.... You wanna-be Jews, we're gonna strip you buck naked before the world. There's no place for you to hide. You lied for too long telling that you are the chosen people."

 

The audience cheers wildly.  "Bagel-eating, hook-nose Jew," the crowd chants.  "What your God will do to you!  Hang you up; turn you out!  Turn you in to sauer-kraut...!"

 

"Everywhere I go I wanna give the white man hell from the cradle to the grave. This is a new generation of blacks and we say to you, white man, you either stop or drop.  Brothers, don't let this no good cracker tell you about Aristotle, Plato, Socrates; the white man has a frequent liar program.  You can't out-devil the devil. The white man's nature is to lie and steal. You have to beat the white man in righteousness. You can't beat him in evil and wickedness." 

 

The audience cheers wildly.  "Damn the white man; Shakespeare too!  Kick his ass and turn it blue!  Cut his throat the time he sleeps!  The white man's demon rules the deep...!"

 

"How could all 13 men at the Last Supper be white? If we were at the Last Supper, we must have been in the kitchen.  I ask white people to reason with us. The nerve of you to call me a bigot, a racist, or an anti-Semite. By the end of the night we'll see who the real

racists are."

 

The audience cheers wildly.  "Eat the fish and choke on bones!  We clean the plates and answer phones!  Jesus eats his salmon too; hang him on his cross, the Jew...!"

 

"Who is it that is sucking our blood in the black community- -the so called Arab and the so-called Jew.  We lost over 600 million over the last 6,000 years in general, and in specific, 150 million in the last 400 years coming over in slave ships. But nobody wants to pay reparations for pain and the suffering...everyone gets reparations but the black man and woman.  You Jews have a Holocaust Museum that costs over 200 million to build. You got four billion dollars from America and you have billions more for reparations. But sons and daughters of Africa don't even get a bone."

 

The audience cheers wildly.  "Holocaust!  Holocaust!  A few are dead but what's the cost?  Send him to Rwanda now; let machetes slice the sow...!"

 

"You Jews talk about the death marches. What about the death marches in Africa? You said that by the summer of 1937 there were over 400 ghettos. We, the sons and daughters of Africa, are still in the ghettos.  We set forth here tonight that the black holocaust was 100 times worse than the so-called Jew Holocaust.  You say you lost six million. We question that. But for the sake of argument we'll give you that. We lost 600 million.  Schindler's List' is really a 'Swindler's List'.  You make me sick--always got some old, crinkly, wrinkled cracker that you bring up, saying 'this is one of the Holocaust victims.' God damn it! I'm looking at a whole audience of Holocaust victims.  The Holocaust lasted 10 years; ours lasted 500. How can you compare, buddy? You are so arrogant."

 

The audience cheers wildly.  Then there is a long moment of silence.

 

"I am going to be like a pit bull. That is the way I'm going to be against the Jews. I am going to bite the tail of the honkies.  I love Colin Ferguson, who killed all those white folks on the Long Island train. God spoke to Colin Ferguson and said, 'catch the train, Colin, catch the train.'"

 

The audience cheers wildly.  "Kill whitey!  Kill whitey!  Send whitey on over!  Over to the other side...!"

 

"The Pope is not the vicar of Christ. The Pope is a representative of the Anti-Christ."

 

The audience cheers wildly.  Even Jim is getting caught up in the emotion.  He is cheering along with the crowd.  "Anti-Christ!  Anti-Christ!  Color him twice!  Black is good and white is bad!  Mama is judicious!  And tyrranical the dad...!" 

 

"There is a little bit of Hitler in all white people."

 

"We don't want no butt-licking, butt-poking negro politicians with a slavery mentality."

 

"The problem in Oakland isn't with the crack, but with the cracker."

 

"White folks, you're in serious trouble. You've got nowhere to hide. I'm gonna be as a pit bull dog and lock my jaws on your backside and only Louis Farrakhan has the keys to unlock it."

 

Wild cheering from the audience.  An organ begins to play in the background.  The crowd begins to chant: "Farrakahn, Farrakahn, Farrakahn!"  The small man on the stage continues:

 

"Those brothers who don't got a white girl on their elbow, got a white boy. We got some Ex-Lax to get it out of your system."

 

"I hate a black man who acts like a white man. But what's worse than that is a black man who acts like a black woman."

 

"You have become swine. You love filth. Homosexuality growing so, so now you can't even have a slumber party, because little girls are having sex with little girls and little boys are having sex with little boys. And it's alright to you now."

 

"When I was coming along, if you were a homosexual, you had to hide it, because that was unacceptable behavior.... Homosexuality has to be looked at. Pastors, you don't want to talk about it anymore. Why? Because many pastors are homosexuals.

 

"The Holy Koran refers to homosexuality as an abomination, meaning it is so utterly loathsome in the sight of God.... I hope I ain't hurting no feelings."

 

"Kill queers!  Kill queers!" the crowd begins to shout.  A chorus of black women singers take up the chant with glee: "Queers to the stake!  They be on the take!  Cut their necks and slice their bowels!  Feed their hearts to snakes and owls...!"

 

"I want to say to those who are Jews. You want us to take our own to task. That's why when Farrakhan speaks, you go to every black leader you can and you say to them, isn't there something you can say about Farrakhan? Well, I'm asking you isn't there something you can say about them damn freaks in Hollywood?  Your own kin...that claim to be Jews."

 

"You want black people to attack me because you say I'm a racist. But Jews won't lift your voice against your own brothers who are making themselves wealthy off of the weakness and the ignorance of the people. Why don't you call Hugh Hefner into question? Why don't you call David Geffen into question?... Where is the guts in the Jewish community? Where is the righteousness in the community  that you won't even condemn your own criminals? Meyer Lansky."

 

"Now there's a new Israel. You may not want to believe it, but the God that I represent is the same God you read about in the Old Testament.... The Israel that it's talking about is the Nation of Islam in the West...l know you Jews are plotting against us, but I want to tell you what my God is poised to do for you.... I want you to look at the national calamities that our God will bring against his evil nation."

 

"Master Farad Muhammad...He is the God of Israel...Our God can't wait for you to make your move.... He dares you to touch me. Come on, if you want to die.... All of these wicked ones who have given Judaism a bad name, they are the members of the synagogue of Satan.... I warn you in the name of Allah, leave us alone. Your time is just about up."

 

"Kill the Jews, make them bleed!" the crowd chants.  "Turn the ground, destroy the seed!  Did what Hitler did for them!  Wipe them from the Earth's green stem...!"

 

"Mandela sold us out.... Mandela's the biggest clown in the big top.... I say give 'em whites 24 hours to get out of town. If they don't, kill everyone white in sight. Kill the men, kill the women, kill the children, kill the blind, kill the crippled. God damn it, kill them all."

 

An army of armed Black Panthers step up on the stage, behind the speaker.

 

The audience begins marching in place, like an army of jackbooted soldiers.  Jim is marching.  Jim clips Crossmann's elbow.  "March, man; or they'll know it's you...!"

 

Crossmann begins to march.

 

A pretty black woman, young, about twenty, smiles broadly at Crossmann.  He notices her beautiful skin, her proud breasts, her lovely form.  She admires him because he is a soldier too.  A soldier for the cause of freedom.

 

"To the whites and 'white Jews' in the audience, I say: It's gonna be a rough ride, buddy.... Buckle your seat belts...because I didn't come to pin the tail on the donkey, I came to pin the tail on the honkey.  I'm going to go buck wild on you...like a pit bull on your Jew backside.  Don't hide tonight, rabbi. Come up front and we'll run your raggedy behind out of here with the truth.  Bring me your rabbis and I'll strip your butts naked. "

 

The audience cheers wildly.  "Expose the whites and Jews tonight!  Push them forward, into light!  Make them dance and make them spin!  Hang them up and scorch their skin...!"

 

"I want to be one of the flame-throwers of God, break white folks' backs. I want to give you hell all the way to your graves. I ain't scared to  die and I'm ready to kill."

 

The audience chants wildly: "Kill the whites; make them bleed!  Let's destroy their demon seed!  Crush their babies; break their skulls!  Revenge is ours!  Revenge is full...!

 

"The true meaning of Christmas is heathen, vain, ignorant, backward, white pagan worship and idolatry."

 

The audience explodes: "We hate Christmas, couldn't be prouder!  Can't hear us now, we'll shout a little louder!  We hate Christmas, couldn't be prouder!  Can't hear us now, we'll shout a little louder...!

 

"Jews have dominated the original people of the planet earth and are planning to unite the the world under one currency and one world order."

 

"You wonder why I call it Jew-nited Nations...Jew York City...Jew-niversity. Because you control it."

 

"There is hardly anyone in this listening audience who doesn't know that the connection of slavery and blacks being suited for slavery because they were inferior is tied to the Hamitic myth of blacks. And it was the Rabbis who had created the Hamitic myth of blacks being inferior."

 

"There is increasing evidence that AIDS is a 'man-made disease' created by the US government to use against the African-Americans in the United States.  All of you whites don't have nothing to fear from AIDS. If AIDS kills the niggers, well you whites would think that was pretty good."

 

"Seventy percent of black high school students in Washington drop out. Of the black students that do graduate, 60 percent are functionally illiterate...that is the [educational] policy that they whites] use to keep you ignorant. So they can use you for their tool.""

 

The audience explodes: "Black is better; we shall rule!  No sex disease will kill our mule!  Panthers, panthers, we shall be!  Islam, Islam, lights the way...!"

 

"Who lights the way?"

 

"Reverend Farrakahn, Reverend Farrakahn...!" the audience shouts in unison.  The audience breaks in to loud applause.

 

A handsome black man dressed in tight, Gucci minister clothing, short-cropped hair, and a gold tooth, steps forward.  The crowd is enraptured, chanting his name: "Farrakahn, Farrakahn....!"

      He smiles, his gold tooth glistening in the light.

      "Brothers and sisters," he begins, amid the cheers.  He raises his arms to silence the crowd.  "Brothers and sisters!  We gather here to worship the great Allah.  But we are not all of the same creed here tonight.  Someone has brought a stranger into our midst.  Someone, a crack dealer, no less, has brought an enemy in to our house..."

      The crowd begins to murmur darkly.

      He says in an exaggerated voice: "FEE FI FO FUM, I SMELL THE BLOOD ON AN ENGLISHMAN!  IT'S GERMAN-AMERICAN BLOOD I SMELL!  I SMELL THE BLOOD OF A MAN NAMED MICHAEL J. CROSSMANN...!"

      He points in to the crowd, at Crossmann.  A spotlight follows his finger.  The light falls on Crossmann and Jim.  Crossmann is dressed in his black-face.

      "Step up here, Mister Crossmann!" Farrakahn says, laughing genuinely at Crossmann's shame.  "Step up here and defend your race -- if you can!  And perhaps explain also the meaning of this crude indignity, the shoe polish on your face...."

      Members of the crowd begin to push Crossmann in the back, push him up toward the stage, up toward Reverend Farrakahn.

      The crowd is shouting: "BLACK POWER, BLACK POWER, BLACK POWER...!"

      Crossmann is pushed up on the stage by several strong panthers.

      "Well, to what do we have this honor, Mister Crossmann?" the reverend asks.  "Is this a simple campaign appearance?  Is the shoe polish to convince us that you identify with our plight...?"

      "I could not explain, in a satisfactory manner, how I appeared here in this condition," Crossmann explains.  "A series of nightmare events led me here..."

      "With your friend, the crack-dealer?" Farrakahn asks.

      "With my friend.  I know him differently," Crossmann responds.

      "Are you not afraid of us -- one white man amid so many demonic natures?" Farrakahn asks.

      "Demons come in all colors," Crossmann replies.  "Demons know themselves not as such.  They usually consider themselves angels..."

      "As you once considered yourself," Farrakahn banters.

      "And still do, in fact," Crossmann replies.

      "Are you working for the FBI now?" Farrakahn asks, smiling.  "Forever Beneath Israel -- monitoring our meetings...?"

      The crowd shouts its approval of Farrakahn's humor.

      "You clearly have better comedy writers at your disposal than I," Crossmann replies.

      "Say something funny if you wish," Farrakahn replies.  "Something that will make us smile..."

      "I darkened my skin to hide among you," Crossmann says.  "There are those, above, who seek my own death as well..."

      Farrakahn laughs, throwing back his head.

      The audience is also laughing, following his cue.

      "You mimick us!" Farrakahn says.  "Hasn't there been enough ridicule of the black man over the years?  Enough misery for us...?"

      "I don't measure misery," Crossmann replies.  "My hope is that God does.  But, yes, from my viewpoint, there has been more than enough..."

      "Yet, still you side with the whites."

      "If a war comes of race on race, I am white.  That was not my choice," Crossmann says.

      "And you see this war coming?" Farrakahn asks.

      "Look at this rally tonight," Crossmann responds.  "Is this not prepration for the same?"

      "If you were black you would understand that the war has never ended," Farrakahn says.

      "No.  It has ended -- for some individuals at least.  Because you identify with your skin color first, that is why there is no end to this war.  Whites who identify with their skin color first also have no end to the war.  But individuals can defeat this war.  Not all blacks are poor and inarticulate, uneducated.  You must go forward as a pilgrim in life, not as a member of a tribe.  Go forward to God as an individual.  God will not raise up the entire black race at some armageddon or some epiphany.  Each soul is responsible for his own development.  Her own development.  Education is the key.  Education is the key for rising in this society, not as a group, but as an individual.  Establish the belief in the mind as clearly as the belief in the body.  Honor your scholars.  Honor the black leaders who leave the ghetto and become doctors and men of learning.  Honor not the criminals, the gangsters, the killers.  Teach your children that learning is higher than earning.  And earning will follow.  Give up drugs.  And give up sex as a drug...."

      "I have no argument with what you have said," the reverend begins.  "Except we do believe that Allah will raise up our entire race.  We do believe that Allah will smile upon our suffering...!"

      "Still, there will always be white and black who are good; and white and black who are not good," Crossmann says.  "If we make it tribal, then we ally ourselves on the basis of color -- then we merely repeat the past...!"

      "Whites certainly do this!" Farrakahn replies.

      "Yes.  It is unfortunate!"

      "We need to protect our own tribe from these!"

      "Yes.  I understand!  But look about this room.  Here is your army.  Are all of these soldiers saints?  In every home there is good and bad; in every group there is good and bad!  There are devils here and also saints!  And amid whites and Jews and Asians and Latins -- it is always the same.  Judge a man for the content of his character, not the color of his skin.  Muslims are welcome in my church...."

      "You sound like that lackey King," the reverend says, disgusted.

      A woman dressed in a black muslim robe climbs up to the stage, carrying a child, a crippled child.  The panthers, carrying rifles, stop the woman.  Reverend Farrakahn signals them to let her pass.

      "The tv reported you cured a woman of blindness!" the woman says to Crossmann.  The woman is about thirty-years-old.  And the daughter she holds is about four.

      "My daughter has a bone disease.  I'm hoping you can cure her!" the woman cries.  "She can't walk."

      "Get her out of here!" an old man behind the reverend says.

      "Wait!" Crossmann says.

      He puts his hand on the girl's legs.

      "You are healed!  Go in peace and walk!"

      The woman sets her daughter down on the stage -- the girl can walk.

      "Oh, my God, it's true!" the woman cries.  "He's the messiah!  This man is the messiah...!"

      The girl is jumping up and down, running on the stage.

      "Get rid of him," the old man behind the reverend says to the panthers.  "Fucking Tom Sawyer--Huck Finn cracker!  Put a cap in his ass; and throw him in a garbage can...!"

      Two panthers grab Crossmann and push him toward the back of the stage, through a scarlet curtain -- the sound of the audience begins to swell, then grow into a kind of pandemonium.

      The two panthers push Crossmann out the back door, into a dark alley, slamming a heavy metal door behind them.  One of the two has already taken out a '44 and snapped a round into the chamber.  But the crowd is surging out of the building, through every door. 

      Women are pouring out of the side doors into the alley, hundreds of them.  They have surrounded the messiah with the two Black Panthers.  The assassin puts his gun away.  The two panthers melt away into the crowd.

      Hundreds of women have surrounded Crossmann and are kneeling before him in silence.

      Crossmann says in a quiet voice: "Go in peace, all of you.  God will be with you."

      Crossmann makes a sign of the cross in the air, above the women.

      Some of the women are sobbing.

      "He's a black man," one of the woman says to another, within Crossmann's hearing.  "I knew the messiah would be a black man."

 

A car pulls into the alley, the bright headlights illuminating the crowd.  A man gets out of the running car.  It is Henry Krinkle, the taxi-driver.

      "Do you need a lift somewhere?" he asks.

      The crowd is beginning to break up.  The two Black Panthers are standing close to the door, waiting.

      "Get in the car, man!" Jim cries.

      Crossmann moves toward the taxi, eyeing the Black Panthers as he passes them, a small group of women escorting him to the taxi.

      Krinkle smiles at Crossmann like he is Crossmann's guardian angel; but there is some confusion of Henry Krinkle's brow: "You've got some kind of black stuff all over your face...!"

 

Krinkle backs the taxi out of the alley; then he turns the car back up the street, heading back out of Harlem.

      "Hello, this is Mandy Rice with ABC news.  We interrupt this broadcast to bring a special report," the radio is playing.  "Another Michael Crossmann siting tonight, or, this morning, I guess I should say.  In Harlem, apparently at a politcal rally, Michael Crossmann has, according to reports, performed another miracle, his third of this night.  Angela Freeman was at the rally.  She says Crossmann touched the legs of a young girl, a Meslissa Hayes, who has had some form of incurable bone disease for several years -- Crossmann touched her legs and her legs were healed.  Melissa was purportedly dancing on the stage minutes after the miracle.  Melissa's weeping mother said it was the first time the girl had ever danced.  We have Angela on the line.  Angela: What was it like...?"

      "It was, well, it was unbelievable!" Angela replies.  "Crossmann was addressing the crowd, speaking political things and such -- and Thea Hayes got up on the stage with Melissa.  They tried to stop her, one of the Elijahs tried to stop her, from approaching Mister Crossmann -- but he touched Melissa's legs and they was alright again.  Little Melissa was just bouncing around on that stage, turning circles, dancing, like it was the best day in her life -- which it probably was...!"

      "Michael Crossmann has not been popular in the African-American community," Mandy Rice continues.  "Many in the African-American community have talked of Michael Crossmann as an enemy of African-Americans.  Do you think this event will change how African-American voters view the man...?"

      "Yes.  Undoubtedly.  Everyone at the meeting -- well, I mean, we witnessed a miracle!  Are we supposed to pretend it didn't happen...?  We saw the little crippled girl dance!  Yes, I'm voting for the man!  He's a man of God!  How else could he perform a miracle like that...?"

      "Thank you, Angela Freeman, a witness to this third miracle performed by Michael Crossmann tonight, Millenium Evening," Mandy Rice continues.  "ABC has run a small sample poll this last minute, after the announcment of this miracle.  African Americans have been negative toward the candidacy of Michael Crossmann until this very moment.  In yesterday's poll, only 9% of African-American voters said they would consider voting for Michael Crossmann.  Most African-American voters were committed to Vice-President Al Gore.  Now, at this moment, after the breaking of this recent story, of Michael Crossmann's miracle in Harlem, a whopping 39% of African-American voters now will consider voting for Michael Crossmann.  Even more stunning: African-American women voters were supporting Michael Crossmann at the rate of only 4% prior to this evening; now some 57% have indicated a change of mind, a willingness to consider voting for Michael Crossmann.  This is really quite astounding! This is not good news for Vice President Gore.  Neither is it good news for Governor George W. Bush, who is also trailing Michael Crossmann now by a decisive plurality....This is Mandy Rice, reporting for ABC news."

      Jim switches the station.  Past one station; then past another.  Stopping at a rap station.

     

Yeah!

 

                    I got my black shirt on

                    I got my black gloves on

                    I got my ski mask on

                    This shit's been too long

                    I got my twelve guage sawed off

                    I got my headlights turned off

                    I'm 'bout to bust some shots off

                    I'm 'bout to dust some cops off

 

                       I'm a...

 

                       COP KILLER, better you than me

                       COP KILLER, fuck police brutality!

                       COP KILLER, I know your family's grievin' ... FUCK 'EM!

                       COP KILLER, but tonight we get even

 

                    I got my brain on hype

                    Tonight'll be your night

                    I got this long-assed knife

                    and your neck looks just right

                    My adrenaline's pumpin'

                    I got my stereo bumpin'

                    I'm 'bout to kill me somethin'

                    A pig stopped me for nuthin'!

 

                       COP KILLER, it's better you than me

                       COP KILLER, fuck police brutality!

                       COP KILLER, I know your family's grievin' ... FUCK 'EM!

                       COP KILLER, but tonight we get even

 

                    DIE, DIE, DIE, PIG, DIE!

                    FUCK THE POLICE!

 

                       COP KILLER, it's better you than me

                       COP KILLER, fuck police brutality!

                       COP KILLER, I know your family's grievin' ... FUCK 'EM!

                       COP KILLER, but tonight we get even

 

                    FUCK THE POLICE!

 

                    FUCK THE POLICE, for Daryl Gates

                    FUCK THE POLICE, for Rodney King

                    FUCK THE POLICE, for my dead homies

                    FUCK THE POLICE, for your freedom

                    FUCK THE POLICE, don't be a pussy

                    FUCK THE POLICE, have some mothafuckin' courage

                    FUCK THE POLICE, sing along!

 

                    COP KILLER!

 

                    I'm a muthafuckin' COP KILLER!

 

                    COP KILLER!

 

"This is DMC MikeyGSee on tonight, the night of miracles it seems, playing your best in rap, keeping them streets clean and them hearts pure!  Millenium Night has been a thing of beauty if we are to believe the news.  Miracles happening left and right.  MJC, the candidate of right, is apparently the candidate of the Big Man on High, if we are to judge from tonight's behavior.  And we're sending this out to him, wherever he is, in his big yellow taxi and all.  The last spin was, of course, Body Count with Mister Ice-T, doing 'Cop-Killer', a classic of early rap.  We've got Big Tymers, Juvenile and Lil' Wayne coming next, with one you won't easily forget.  But first I gotta have my sponsor say a word...."

 

"COCA-COLA", a deep voice comes in, as deep and as sexy as Barry White's voice.  "EVER WANT SOMETHING SO BAD YOU CAN TASTE IT!  EVER WANT TO GET SO DIRTY YOU CAN'T GET CLEAN!  COCA-COLA!  IT'S GOT THAT MEAN FEELING!  WHEN YOU GET IT IN YOUR MOUTH, AND IT GOES DOWN YOUR THROAT, YOU KNOW IT'S GOTTA BE LOVE.  GET A COKE RIGHT NOW!  YOU'RE GONNA LOVE THE FEELING...!"  The sound of a coke being opened, bubbling, then sizzling as it is poured.  'AHH, THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD...!"

 

"Coke," DMC MikeyGSee says.  "If you got it, smoke it.  If you got a lot, go ahead and snort it.  If you got it in a glass, take a good long drink -- and listen to this from Lil" Wayne and his two big friends..."

 

The music comes back in:

 

This is for Deshawn, Eshlawn, Lil Mama, an her friends

Lisa, Teresa, Maria, Tia, Lia and Kim

I love y'all broads, no disrespect to my dogs

but I love y'all broads, yea I love y'all broads

To the ladies havin babies without no drama

To my niggas with figgas say I love my baby momma

I bought them shoes, them tattoos, an even fixed yo breasts

I put you inside the flyest rides an even put a "S" on yo' chest

 

This is for the ones who wobbled it an be puttin they mouth on it

An they suck everything out of it then they catch it and swallow it

I'm Lil Weezy for sheezy, I'm off the heezy believe me

See me, I squeeze in between it, and then I leave it so greasy

When I come through in a Rolls Royce, leave them with no choice

but to hop up in it an just let me make they throat moist

Ruby red an vodka it just carry a nigga

Give me three minutes maybe four she be wantin to marry a nigga

 

Give me a project bitch

Give me a hoodrat chick

One that don't give a fuck

An say she took that dick

 

My momma send me by my grandma, my grandma flipped out

an said we ain't gone have no evil in this house

So I rolled out scoped me an ounce sold out

but I fucked up when I started livin up in this hoes house

Nigga started fuckin one of the broads

cause she was suckin a nigga dick so good keepin it hard

Lettin a nigga cum all over her chest and tongue

She was still-un, I spared her because her chil-drun

She was a hoe she gave me head behind a building

aint sellin records but her mouth could sell a million

if you wanna take it there we can break it off

cause yall pussy aint gotta nigga tweakin at all

I slang this dick summer winter spring an the fall

ask me to lay it down I'm bringin it all

I'm tryin to hit ya from the back til ya holla, "Good lord

this motherfuckin dick good and it always be hard"

 

Give me a project bitch

Give me a hoodrat chick

One that don't give a fuck

An say she took that dick

 

Look - a nigga could catch me r'd up

Them white folks know the code so we g'd up

an my range rover 4 door be d'd up

Tattoos and new cars and these project cuts

Got this nigga bitch I know been wantin to fuck

I deal with sluts ladies an bitches don't give a fuck

Project bosses Weezy say "Respect Us"

Bitch nigga find me in the 4 door Lexus

I got a bitch shoot dice an a bitch that ain't right

I got a bitch who will front ya work an take ya life

I got a credit card hoe, a scam type hoe, a fraud type hoe

Like to snort that dope, a dick suckin pro

A calico hoe, a real solid bitch out Chicago

I got a +Brat+ type bitch like to whine an shit

I got a project bitch like to start some shit.....

 

Crossmann looks out the window, the buildings flying by.  Driving north, into Hamilton Heights.  The dirty buildings and trash-strewn streets give we to more dignified surroundings.  The world is becoming cleaner again. 

     Crossmann wonders how he got all the way from the L'Odeon French Restaurant to Harlem.  It doesn't make sense.  He doesn't remember where the jail was, what part of town.

     "Where are we going?" Crossmann asks.

     "You leave that to me?" Henry Hinkle responds.  "The cops are looking for you everywhere.  But I've got a place for you -- a place where no one will look...!"

 

Radio: "This is DMC MikeyGSee; and that was, of course, Mister Oral, Lil' Wayne and his friends.  We hear a report that MJC is right now on Broadway heading up to Washington Heights.  Going north to create more miracles I am presuming.  We've got Doctor DRE coming up with one of his great ones, 'Who is the Man With the Masterplan?" -- yes, it's a nigga witta motherfuckin gun.  This goes out to everyone still awake on the Millenium morning...y'all need to remember, we are still out here...!  He's the Doctor right now...."

 

The music comes back in:

 

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

 

44 reason come to mind

Why you motherfuckin brothers' hard to find

He be walkin on the streets and fuckin with mine

Stupid punk can't fuck with a mastermind

See I never take a step on a Compton block

or LA without the AK ready to pop

Cos them punk motherfuckers in black and white

Ain't the only motherfuckers I gots to fight

I thinks it's better to be retellin the facts than cuffed up

and jacked and fucked up

What you niggas lookin at? You goin

goddamn! Cos it's the city

and for you to survive a nigga gotta be a gangsta

And I'm a nigga you can't remove

Took out a lot of motherfuckers for tryin to prove

To their homies that they can hang by dealin with me

But once again in the end they D-E-A-D

I never did time on a murder yet

Cos I relax and back, do a job and jet

Yo I know you understand my flow

So here we go with Death Row

Come let a motherfucker know

 

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

 

A motherfucker who's known for carryin gats

and kick raps that make snaps

Adapts to anything violent that I'm located at

If you see me on the solo moves best believe that I'm strapped

4-4, .tre-8 or AK-47

Cos slowly but surely send you on a stairway to heaven

Just put my finger on the trigger and pull back

and lay a punk motherfucker flat

As he wonder what popped before he got popped

I told you I was Dre and you know it don't stop

Now I know you understand my flow

So here we go with Death Row

Come let a motherfucker know

 

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

 

I breaks em off, I breaks em off yeah

I breaks em off, I breaks em off yeah

I breaks em off but I ain't speakin about between the thighs

I'm talkin about cockin a gauge in between your eyes

That'll make you drop to your knees cos you realise

that a gat will make any nigga civilised

Old buster ass nigga talkin bullshit

Don't know that I'm the wrong nigga to fuck with

Get lit or hit up by the doctor

A nigga that breaks em off proper-ly

Real G so doubt it

I'm the one who's doin it while these other niggas talk about it

And if motherfuckers come at me wrong

I straight put my .44 Desert Eagle to his motherfuckin dome

And show him why they call me the notorious one

The name's Dre Eastwood when I'm packin a gun

You don't believe me, well step up and give it a try

And if you die youse a buster cos real niggas don't die

But some still don't hear me though

You're too near me not to hear me, nigga yo

So now you know

 

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun

Who is the man with the masterplan?

A nigga witta motherfuckin gun.

 

"Why are we listening to this shit?" the taxi-driver asks Jim.

      "Because it's poetry man," Jim replies.  "It's poetry.  Crossmann's a poet.  So is this dude..."

      "It's foul," Henry Krinkle says.  "It's filth.  It's about killing and taking dope and brutalizing girls.  Every woman is a bitch, whose only good for...you know oral and vaginal and anal copulation...  I don't like hearing that kind of song, especially on a night like this, on a holy night like this...!  I'd rather hear something uplifting, you know.  Something, holy...!"

      "Well, no one is playing 'O Holy Night', man!" Jim replies.  "Christmas is over...!"

      "We've got some white boy rap coming your way too, tonight, Mister Eminem, Mike and Mike, singing, if you'll let him, don't change the rap, man, give it a chance, man.  Eminem for you, MJC, with a new turn from his 'Marshall Fenton' album..."

 

The music comes in:

 

You know I just don't get it

Last year I was nobody

This year I'm sellin records

Now everybody wants to come around like I owe em somethin

Heh, the fuck you want from me, ten million dollars?

Get the fuck out of here

 

You see I'm just Marshall Fenton (Marshall Fenton)

I'm just a regular guy,

I don't know why all the fuss about me (fuss about me)

Nobody ever gave a fuck before,

all they did was doubt me (did was doubt me)

Now everybody wanna run they mouth

and try to take shots at me (take shots at me)

 

Yo, you might see me joggin, you might see me walkin

You might see me walkin a dead rottweiler dog

with it's head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar

hollerin at him cause the son of a bitch won't quit barkin

(grrrr, ARF ARF) Or leanin out a window, with a cocked shotgun

Drivin up the block in the car that they shot 'Pac in

Lookin for Big's killers, dressed in ridiculous

blue and red like I don't see what the big deal is

Double barrel twelve gauge bigger than Chris Wallace

Pissed off, cause Biggie and 'Pac just missed all this

Watchin all these cheap imitations get rich off 'em

and get dollars that shoulda been theirs like they switched wallets

And amidst all this Crist' poppin and wristwatches

I had to sit back and just watch and just get nauseous

and walk around with an empty bottle of Remi Martin

startin shit like some 26-year-old skinny Cartman ("God damnit!")

I'm anti-Backstreet and Ricky Martin

with instincts to kill N'Sync, don't get me started

These fuckin brats can't sing and Britney's garbage

What's this bitch retarded?  Gimme back my sixteen dollars

All I see is sissies in magazines smiling

Whatever happened to whylin out and bein violent?

Whatever happened to catchin a good-ol' fashioned

passionate ass-whoopin and gettin your shoes coat and your hat tooken?

New Kids on the Block, sucked a lot of dick

Boy/girl groups make me sick....

 


"Turn that shit off!" Henry Krikle says to Jim -- then he turns off the radio himself.  "Who is this Marshall Fenton fucker anyway?  All this negative shit about fucking and killing and taking drugs.  Give me a break!  What is that shit!  We are in the presence of greatness tonight!  I have watched the man in the back seat perform THREE... count them, THREE... miracles tonight.  I have seen two of them myself.  And you're turning that rag-a-muffin tough-guy shit on to make me what.... sick to my stomach?  Turn on Bach or something holy, my man!  Get down on your knees and say a prayer or something!  Have you heard about the second coming of Christ at Millenium?  Well, I think we are seeing it!  It's a strange night, to be sure!  But it's a miraculous night!  And so what if the cops are trying to hunt this man down!  If you'd read your Bible as much as you listen to that fucking mind-rut music, you'd realize that his arrest is...well, it's guaranteed by the Bible....!"

      "Don't give me that religious rap, man!" Jim says.  "That's a white man's gambol!  It's not for me!  It's not for my brothers...!"

      "Not for your brothers!" Henry cries.  "That's exactly who it's for!  Your brothers are shooting each other down in the streets!  You won't have a single friend who'll live to see 33!  Either dead in the streets or up in Sing-Sing or Attica!  You's headed down the toilet, sure as shit, with that mythology you follow on the radio.  All this cool-cat acting, with the baggy pants and the hat on side-ways, packing heat for some kid living on another street.  BMW - Big Man Wannabe!  You think that's cool, man!  That's some dead man's act!  That's the way straight to hell man, not to heaven...!"

      "Heaven is for white men, man!" Jim says.  "Heaven's not for the black man!  Aint no place in heaven for the black man...!"

      "That's bullshit, Jim!  A clean heart gets you to heaven!" Henry continues.  "A decent heart!  A generous act!  Treating your fellow man like he mattered, no matter what his race or religion!  That's what this night is all about!  This man behind me has some message he is bringing to the earth.  He has touched a blind girl -- and now she can see!  A cripple child can now dance!  What do you think this means for you and me!  This is not something to ignore!  This can change your life!  This must change your life!  You gotta give up gang-banging, give up pussy-banging, give up nickle-and-dime!  You should get on your knees and thank God for this night, this night that changed your life!  You'll end up dead in some alley if you don't change!  You'll end up eating asphalt over some dime bag of slime like all of your friends!  Is that what you want?  Is that how you want your mama to see you last?  She gave you life; and is that what you're gonna give back to her -- dead some lonely night, someone copping your shoes....?"

      Jim is silent.

      Still driving north, the only car on the road.  Past Wright Park on Broadway.

      "I don't know what's for real, man," Jim says finally, speaking to Henry.  "You tell me this motherfucker...."

      "Don't you ever say that word in his presence again!" Henry says.  "Or in my presence either, for that matter!  Clean up your mouth first -- and a clean heart will follow!  Are you a Christian, Jim...?"

      "What?"

      "Are you a Christian?" Henry repeats. 

      "I don't know, man.  I guess I am.  I'm not that religious."

      "I'm not talking about the old Christian," Henry continues, "with those phony preachers on the radio and television, saying send me your money so I can do the Lord's work.  Those rich bastards living in palaces off the money the get from the poor crackers down south, old retired couples living on a pension that won't even buy them enough food to keep them alive.  They come on the tv and the radio every week talking about salvation and glory, about the rapture, like they know what the rapture is.  The rapture is a very subtle thing, isn't it Michael...?"

      "Yes it is Henry," Crossmann says.  "It is a very subtle thing."

      "And it's happened already, hasn't it Michael?"

      "It has, Henry," Michael says again.

      "I'm not talking about the old Christianity, the one that's dying," Krinkle says.  "The one that's going to sleep.  Have you heard of Malachy OÕMorgair Archbishop of Armagh in Ireland?  Malachi prophecied in 1143 AD that there will be one hundred eleven popes after..."

      "Celestine the Second," Crossmann helps Henry.

      "That's right.  Celestine the Second.  He said there would be 111 popes after that time.  Number 109 is the current pope, John Paul the Second.  Then there will be one more pope who is called 'From the Glory of the Olive'.  And then there will be number 111, 'Peter the Roman' -- and then the Catholic Church will be no more.  That is, the Roman Church will cease to exist.  There will be a new christianity.  We have seen the birth of this new christianity tonight, my friend...!"

      "Hey, keep your eyes on the road, man!" Jim responds -- as an excited Henry Krinkle slides his taxi across the center-line and back.  "You trying to send us all to heaven in a golden chariot tonight, friend...?"

      Henry is reaching over to turn on the radio.  He adjusts the tuner, until a heavenly voice comes in.  He takes a left.  The radio voice is soothing, like light:

 

God the Holy Spirit, Saint Michael Jesus Archangel, is building a 7-story The Second Coming Of Our Lord Jesus Christ Cathedral/Castle. In the basement of this blue pearl granite Cathedral will be a fully-equipped music production studio and also a fully-equipped television production studio. On the main floor will be a family restaurant, and a smoke-free, alcohol-free Christian nightclub with 3 TVs tuned to Eternal Word Television Network, Trinity Broadcasting Network and Fox News Network and serving fruit and vegetable drinks with Christian musical entertainment, and also a Christian book and religious goods store. On the second floor will be the Cathedral worship area with 24/7 worship services presided over by Catholic priests and priestesses in the Michaelite Order of the Blue Shield, Protestant ministers, and Jewish rabbis.  On the third floor will be an extensive spiritual library.  On the fourth floor will be the United Domains Of Heaven offices. On the fifth floor will be apartments for visitors, family, and friends. The sixth floor will be Archangel Michael's residence, and that of Pope/ Emperor of the Earth Gabriel John Paul II the Great Archangel and/or that of 1st Assistant Pope/Archangel Raphael Ken Untener and/or that of Emperor/Archangel of North America Arphugitonos James Cardinal Hickey and/or that of Emperor of the USA Archangel Aker Adam Cardinal Maida and/or that of Blessed Sacrament Emperor Archangel/Pastor Zaphiel Jack Johnson when they desire. The seventh and top floor will be a huge living room for a round-the-clock prayer meeting with skylight roof and telescope. The Cathedral/Castle, destined to be an "American Vatican" was designed by Michael's daughter, Tanya Faith, Empress of Earth, and a print of it is available at Tomar Photographic in downtown Midland, 126 Townsend, (517) 822-2727. Tomar, the owner of Tomar   Photographic, is Michael's Official Royal Photographer and is known for his excellent work.  Minimum contributions of $2.00 or more to the Cathedral Building Fund will be rewarded a hundredfold in Heavenly Currency which is also available at http://maxlove.com/kingmichael and http://maxlove.com/bankofheaven. You may make your contributions payable to God  the Holy Spirit or the United Domains Of Heaven or Michael Jesus Archangel, and send them to the United Domains Of Heaven, PO Box 2281, Midland, MI 48641. If you would like to be remembered with your prayer requests in Michael's daily Masses at the United Domains Of Heaven Embassy, send your name and prayer requests to Michael at the address above or e-mail him. If you would like to attend Mass at the Embassy, Father Michael says Mass by appointment. Please keep Pope/Emperor of Earth Gabriel John Paul II the Great Archangel and 1st Assistant Pope Archangel/Bishop Raphael Ken Untener "Gloria Olivae" in the Prophecies of St. Malachy in your prayers, and please pray for Michael, "Petrus Romanus," 2nd  Assistant Pope mentioned in the Prophecies of St. Malachy. For more information on  the Cathedral, call Michael at 517-822-5111  or e-mail him at: mjcthelordishere.maxlove.com...."

 

"This is an example of the usurpers I have talked about," Krinkle responds to the radio.  "An example of the abominaton!  The usurpers, the frigates of commercialism, have appeared already, lashing themselves to Michael's boat like the great one-legged madman who lashed himself to his whale; and they have already begun to pollute the message he has brought to us.  This is my example of those who will not be taken to the kingdom.  The believers asking for your money will be the last souls to escape the deadly Pequod's deadly dive...!"

      A right turn on Fort Washington Avenue.

      "You're a crazy taxi-driver like I never see'd, man!" Jim says.  "What you goin on about?  I don't know what you're talking about, Pequod this, Pequod that.  You think you're less a rat-head than DOCTOR DRE comin on like that with that whispering and selling that dread...?"

      "I'm selling you life, mister!" Henry Krinkle replies.  "And Doctor DRE is selling you death!  That's the difference, man...!"

      "You're selling me some kinda crazy rap about the death of popes and the coming of this man in the back seat of the car, his coming as some kinda second Christ.  I don't know what that's about, man, even if this Malachy dude rapped it out in....."

      "1143 AD," Krinkle interrupts.

      "Whatever, man," Jim says.  "What's it got to do with me...?"

      "It's about your soul, Jim!" Henry says.  "The end-time is coming!  Only 144,000 souls are going to be saved!  Are you going to be one of them...?"

      "If it means I have to live with you, then I'm not so sure I wanna be saved!" Jim responds, smiling.  "I'm not sure I wanna be on that damn boat, if you're the crazy motherfuckin' Noah...!"

      "It's getting too late to be smiling, Jim!" the taxi-driver says.  "It's getting to be too late for almost anything, except the preparing -- except for the building of the boat.  And I don't like that kind of language..!"

      Jim turns to Crossmann in the back-seat: "Aren't you going to say anything, man?"

      "Go ahead and smile, Jim," Crossmann says.  "There will always be time for the smiling...!"

     

Henry Krinkle is driving now through a forest, a park.  He is the only car on the road.  In the moonlight it is hard to read the landscape -- Crossmann looks out over snow-crusted lawns and iced-over ponds.

      "Fort Tryon Park," Krinkle says to Crossmann.  "Quite beautiful, in fact.  Hard to see it at night."

      "What the hell we doin here?" Jim asks.

      "This is a place for Crossmann to hide," Krinkle replies.  "For both of you to hide."

      "Where?  At the Frankenstein house?"

      "It's not Frankenstein," Krinkle replies.  "It's The Cloisters.  It's a monastery -- and a museum.  I was told to bring Crossmann here...!"

      "Told by whom?" Crossmann asks.

      "By your friend, the Magician," Henry responds.  "And the old Russian woman, the one in the black clothes, with the black tea bags under her eyes...!"

      Jim has switched the radio station again, away from the religious broadcast....

              

                        "There is a war between the rich and poor,

                        A war between the man and the woman.

                        There is a war between the ones who say there is a war

                        And the ones who say there isn't.

                        Why don't you come on back to the war,

                        That's right, get in it;

                        Why don't you come on back to the war,

                        It's just beginning.

 

                        Well I live here with a woman and a child;

                        The situation makes me kind of nervous.

                        Yes, I rise up in her arms;

                        She says: 'I guess you call this love; I call it service.'

                        Why don't you come on back to the war,

                        Don't be a tourist.

                        Why don't you come on back to the war

                        Before it hurts us.

                        Why don't you come on back to the war;

                        Let's all get nervous.

 

                        You cannot stand what I've become,

                        You much prefer the gentleman I was before.

                        I was so easy to defeat, I was so easy to control;

                        I did not even know there was a war.

                        Why don't you come on back to the war;

                        Don't be embarassed.

                        Why don't you come on back to the war;

                        You can still get married.

 

                        There is a war between the rich and poor,

                        A war between the man and the woman.

                        There is a war between the left and right,

                        A war between the black and white

                        A war between the odd and the even.

 

                        Why don't you come on back to the war --

                        Pick up your tiny burden.

                        Why don't you come on back to the war --

                        Let's all get even...."

 

"Honkey noise," Jim says.  He turns to Crossmann: "I'll bet you like this...?"

      "Yes," Crossmann says.  "Leonard Cohen."

      "A Jew?" Jim asks.

      "Yes.  A Jew poet," Crossmann says.

      "Are you a Jew too?" Jim asks Crossmann.  "Tell me the truth..."

      "I don't know what I am, Jim..."

      "Everybody knows what they are," Jim responds.

      "You know who you are when you come back to the war," Crossmann says.  "But when you're away from the war, it's not so easy to tell..."

     

There is a gate up ahead, illuminated by the taxi lights.

      The gate is locked.

      A man comes out of the shadows, a security guard.

      "Yes," the man says.  He has a pistol on his belt.

      "I need to drop these men off," Henry says through the window.

      "Here?"

      "Yes."

      "Well, I can't let you in without the password..."

      "Password?" Henry responds, confused.

      "Yes.  I need a password."

      The security guard has a walkie talkie on one side of his belt; and he touches his pistol with his right hand.

      Crossmann leans over behind Henry Krinkle, and says to the man through the open window: "FIDELIO."

      "What?" the security man asks.

      "FIDELIO."

      "Yes.  Very good, sir.  OK.  Give me a minute and I'll open this gate for you...!"

      The security guard turns and walks to the iron gate, unlocking it. 

      He motions for the car to pass.

     

The taxi approaches a hulking shadow of a building, part gothic cathedral, part Romanesque chapel.

      "Rockefeller had this sent over from Europe, brick by brick, stone by stone, sculpture by sculpture" Henry Krinkle explains, "from many different places -- France, Italy, Russia, Rome.  Somehow they put it all together.  It's an amalgamation of styles and different centuries..."

      "An amalgamation?" Jim asks, smiling.  "That's a big word for a taxi driver, I'd say.  See if you can say it again..."

      "An amalgamation," Henry responds.

      "Ok, what does it mean?" Jim asks.

      "An amalgamation is a....a collection of different things....brought together....amalgamously," Henry responds.  "Things unalike brought together and made to be alike...."

      "Well this thing don't look like anything.  It's like a haunted house -- with a kind of small church attached," Jim says.

      "That's not a problem," Henry says, slowly driving around the building.  He stops near the center of the building.  "It is what it is.  And it's where I was told to bring you, both of you..."

      Crossmann opens his door.  Snow is beginning to fall again.

      "This is the Cuxa Cloisture," Henry says to Crossmann through his open window.  "It's from the Twelfth Century Benedictine monastery Saint Michael de Cuxa.  This is where they are waiting for you.  The door -- see it there -- should be left open for you...  I think they are somewhere down in the basement...."

      "I aint goin in there," Jim says.

      "Well, you aint riding back with me," Henry says.  "I'm going to keep circling, head out toward Coney Island or something.  They may have some kind of bug on my car -- so I've gotta keep moving...!"

      "Come on," Crossmann says to Jim.

      They get out of the taxi.

      The taxi pulls away.

 

"That ad on the radio, that religious ad," Jim says.  "That ad suggested that Petrus Romanus, the final pope, and Michael the Archangel were the same person.  Is there any chance of that...?"

      "I don't know, Jim.  I am an empty man now, the word become flesh.  I move through the world like a puppet now, my spirit guiding me through life.  I no longer see what is coming.  Now I seem to merely have become what is coming.  I am far from my body, being moved by some force within..."

      "Really?" Jim asks.  "A good force?"

      "Good and bad," Crossmann says.  "A dice rolled.  Something comes up.  One or seven?  Two or six?  Three or five?  Four or four?  I don't know.  I am still dreaming -- but I walk in the land of the waking...."

      "Is that why you think you're God -- because you're dreaming?" Jim asks.

      "I think that's it, Jim," Crossmann says.  "I'm afraid I will wake up some day and find that I am the only one not sleeping -- as today I feel that I am the only one who is dreaming..."

      "If I understood what you were saying," Jim replies.  "I might really be afraid of you...."

      "If I understood what I was saying," Crossmann responds.  "I might also be afraid of myself..."

      In the moonlight, Crossmann sees a cross set up in the night sky, surrounded by falling snowflakes.  It makes him want to cry for some reason.  It seems so lost and lonely there atop the roof of the monastery, surrounded thus by darkness.

 

The two men enter the monastery by a side door.  There is a dimly-lit hallway, leading down into a passageway of religious relics.  Bones of saints; bodies of martyrs.  Medieval paintings from Italy: Christ being lowered from the cross, Apostle John, the three Marys, Miriam, and the rich man nearby, the one who gave Jesus his tomb, Nicodemus.  All in the Italian tones of deep brown background and evanescent crimson and blue robes; real pain etched into the faces of the family of Jesus.  Green undertone on the skin, making it seem real.

      Past someone's coffin.

      A kind of altar, with a large crucifix of Jesus illuminated only by moonlight and light reflecting through a window in snow-drops.

      An open door to the right, leading down even deeper into the monastery.

      Ghosts now.  Ghosts of ghosts, twice removed.  Heraklites; senioritis.  Manicotti; John Gotti.  Once removed; twice removed.  Only ghosts now; ghosts of ghosts; and dust of dust -- going deeper beneath the sanctuary.

      Candles lit there.  A group of men; and one woman.

      "You're here!" a voice cries.  Truman's voice.

      "We've been worried sick about you!" Faramarz's voice.  He steps in to the light.  Faramarz still has on a disguise, one that makes him look a bit like a diminutive William Powell, the 1950's actor -- his mustache thick and bolted down now.  As conservative as a French banker, standing at attention at Versailles.

      "They've issued warrants for all of our arrests!" Truman comes in again.

      "We don't know that as a fact!" Charlie Rose contests Truman.  "We heard a report on the news, it's true!  But we don't know the extent of this...!"

      "Conspiracy is what they said!" Truman says.

      "There is no legal ground to stand on," Ted Clause's voice comes in.  "Conspiracy for what...?"

      "You know what," Pete Hamil answers, stepping in to the light, looking like Peter Gunn.  "That Rosebud stunt...!"

      "Any man who could have done it, would have done it!" William Styron interjects, smelling of whiskey.

      "Any man who was physically able," Harold Bloom adds, smiling.

      "That's the problem with a pussy," Allen Ginsberg interjects, deadly serious.  "It starts the fall.  It always has...!"

      Above Crossmann's brother William's head, on the wall, is an insignia:

 

                                                                       

     

     

William says: "Have you noticed that Jesus Christ on the cross represtents the inverted triangle, both arms extended, feet as the inverted apex?  And Michael the Archangel, his feet planted apart, his sword raised high, represents the non-inverted triangle, the one reaching in to Heaven...?"

      William Crossmann is standing beside the old Russian woman dressed in black.

      Crossmann Goes Toward Sex.

      Crossmann Gambles The Savings.

      Crossmann Gives The Sermon.

      Crossmann Gestates The Son.

      Crossmann Gastriculates The Salmon.

      Crossmann's Given The Sentence.

      Crossmann Gets The Shaft.

      Crossmann Germinates The Savage.

 

"He looks more like Joseph Smith every day," the Magician says, being the last one out of the darkness.  "Especially with those magic glasses."

      Everyone laughs, breaking the tension.

      "What are we supposed to do?" Truman asks.  "They say they're going to arrest all of us because we know too much.  They say we're subversives...!"

      "You are a subversive," Crossmann says to Truman, smiling.

      "What about me?" Faramarz asks.

      "You're a bizarre interpretation of the power of fatherhood, I must say," Crossmann replies.

      "Know too much!" Pete Hamil says, laughing.  "I, for one, don't know enough.  I don't know anything, in fact...!"

      Crossmann notices the old woman in black whispering to his brother.

      "In case you are wondering, CGTS, numerically, equals 49," William says as he turns to his brother.  "C is 3; G is 7; T is 20 and S is 19.  49 is the number of the perfect man, 7 times 7."

      "I think that kind of thinking is what started all this trouble," Truman whispers to Faramarz.  "That, and then that bomb at the World Trade Center...!"

      "I had nothing to do with that!" Faramarz contends.

      "You're an Arab -- you had something to do with it!" Truman insists.

      "They are coming to arrest me!" Crossmann says.  "I'm not sure we can do anything about it now.  I would appreciate it if you would just sit up with me until the police arrive...!"

      "It's late!" Faramarz cries in a low voice.  "When are they coming...?"

      "Shh.  Of course we will!" the Magician says.

      "This whole scenario feels a bit odd to me," Harold Bloom says.  "As if I've read all this before -- or heard it.  Something is not ringing true here....in a literary sense...!"

      William Styron, smelling of whiskey, turns to Jim, and says in a slow, hypnotic voice: "Lad, lad, I tell thee thou must not follow Ahab now. The hour is coming when Ahab would not scare thee from him, yet would not have thee by him. There is that in thee, poor lad, which I feel too curing to my malady. Like cures like; and for this hunt, my malady becomes my most desired health. Do thou abide below here, where they shall serve thee, as if thou wert the captain. Aye, lad, thou shalt sit here in my own screwed chair; another screw to it, thou must be...."

      "You need some coffee, man!" Jim responds.  "You aint makin no sense to me...!"

      "Stay up and pray with me," Crossmann says to the group, "until the police arrive...!"

      "Pray?" Allen Ginsberg replies.  "Look at us.  We're a bunch of intellectual atheists, homosexual, drug dealers -- a lawyer, an Arab transvestite...!"

      "I am not a transvestite!" Faramarz insists.  "This is a disguise...!"

      "What do we know about praying...?" Ginsberg finishes.

      "You're perfect!  Only drowning men can see me," Crossmann responds. 

      "That's from a Leonard Cohen song too, isn't it?" Jim asks Crossmann.

      "Yes, it is, very good," Crossmann replies.

      "What are we supposed to be doing here, anyway?" Pet Hamil asks.

      "I'm here for when he is arrested again," Ted Clause replies.  "I'm not sure why all the other people are here.  I think the fat guy with the wild hair and the wavy gravy t-shirt is, in fact, a ghost.  Don't quote me on that.  The literary men are here to make judgments upon the script -- at least that's my belief.  The brother, yes.  The black man, who will be made to play Judas eventually, yes.  The Magician, who, I believe, will be given the Key to the Kingdom, becoming Peter, the Rock, who will eventually be hanged upside down until all the blood runs into his brain, breaking his power, his magic glasses falling into the dust.  Laurel and Hardy, for the comic effect.  The old woman for some reason.  I believe she has no where else to go; she came to the city for the Millenium celebration.  All the hotels were booked. So she's just following everybody around, hoping someone will have a bed or a couch for her when this all ends...."

      "Wow, you see all that?" Hamil says, impressed.

      "Yes, well that's my untrained view," Ted Clause responds.

      "It seems pretty trained to me," Hamil says.  "Do you have a business card?"

      Clause gives Pete Hamil a business card.

      "I've been having some trouble with a publishing company," Hamil explains.  "I have this contract.  I'm not sure it's a real contract.  I owe them a book and I can't write anything...."

      "Call my office and we'll make an appointment," Ted Clause suggests.

      "Right.  I will."

      "Of course, in a lyrical sense," Charlie Rose comes in, "I think we all know what is happening here.  I think we all can count.  There are twelve of us here, with Crossmann as the thirteenth.  We are at this holy shrine, a kind of holy shrine; the police are going to arrest him here.  It all has a very familiar ring, does it not...!"

      "Most decidedly," Harold Bloom responds.

      "So what?" William Styron replies.  "So, we're the twelve disciples, the apostles!  Is that what all this roundabout conversation is about?  We took up the cause of this man -- what are we going to do, abandon him at his moment of need...?"

      "Well, the taxi already left," Truman says.  "I heard the taxi leave -- rocks under tires.  I don't think we can just walk out of here. What, down through Harlem, at this time of night.  Plus it's pretty damned cold out there...."

      "I told you to bring your cell phone!" Faramarz replies to Truman.  "We could call a taxi if you have your cell phone...!"

      "Aren't we committed to this man's ggggg-reatness?" Styron asks.

      "Well, there was that thing with the Rosebud," Harold Bloom says, "which I found rather distasteful.  But, yes, I am committed.  It's a matter of principle now...!"

      "You know where this road leads," Charlie Rose speculates.  "Judging from historical parallels, I mean?  It leads to a lot of pain for us.  We get to spread the new religion.  And the authorities get to hound us into exile.  Some of us even get executed...!"

      "What?" Truman cries.  "I didn't sign up to get executed!  I just wanted to sell him a condo, welcome him to New York, and make a couple of bucks commission in the process....!"

      "We don't know the historical parallel will follow," Syron responds.  "We're in America afterall; this not Rome...!"

      "I'm his lawyer, that's all," Ted Clause breaks in.  "Client-attorney privilege and all.  He is entitled to legal representation, entitled to this by our constitution...!"

      "Hell, they don't give a damn about the constitition!" Pete Hamil interjects.  "They don't give a damn about the working man!  They don't give a damn about this new champion of the working class...!"

      "What!" Truman cries.  "I thought he was going to be the emperor!  Bring back a whole cycle in empirical thought and neo-classical design.  And raise the rich to safety and comfort again, where they belong...!"

      "He's no commie!" Faramarz replies.  "Don't worry about that!  Hamil is either drunk or slipping back in to his 1960's rhetoric!  Don't worry -- he's on the way out...!"

      "You remember how all this started?" Hamil says to Crossmann.  "Remember our declaration of principles?  We were going to tell all the news honestly.  And we were going to be the fighting and tireless champion for the rights of the downtrodden, the poor, and the unemployed as citizens of America and as human beings...!"

      "That was long ago, friend," Truman says to Hamil.

      "Things-a change-a," the Magician interjects, imitating Alan Ameche.

      "You have to stand for the poor, not for the rich!" Hamil cries.

      "You have to stand for America!" William Crossmann interjects.  "Rich or poor, one nation under God...!"

      "You have to stand for God!" the old Russian woman cries out.  "God your Father and God your Mother...!"

      Everyone is silent.

      The old Russian woman moves Crossmann like his own mother.  He looks into the face of the old woman.  He sees his mother's face: tears in her eyes; a sad countenance, as if she suffers for the entire world.

      "There is a meditation garden out here," the old woman says.  "Come out and pray.  Perhaps we should all walk the labyrinth to achieve a filament of peace.  Those who wish to come out with you can.  Others can stay in here until the police arrive...!"

      The old woman opens the side door, leading out in to a private courtyard, into a meditation garden.

 

Get some shame.  There is enough here for everyone.  The first garden first, the Garden of Sin; and now this -- the garden of shame; of mead and mole.  And soul.  Provoking betrayal, wickedness; and cowardice in the snow.  BUT FIRST HE MUST SUFFER MANY THINGS AND BE REJECTED OF THIS GENERATION.  Yes.  YES, IT IS SO WRITTEN.  And he spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray and not to faint.  YES!  FINE, COMING FROM THEE, THE GREAT GRANDFATHER FAINTER.  Painter and Fainter.  Fainter at least three times -- before the cock crows.  LAUGHTER.  More laughter.  LAUGHTER CURES AS WELL AS CURSES.  Laughter in prayer cures nothing but silence.  AND SILENCE IS THE AIR UPON WHICH PRAYERS GLIDE.  Nice wind -- where's Ginsberg?  DEAD WEIGHT.  You can trust him as far as you can throw him!  JEWISH CUR!  THROW HIS BY HIS COLLAR!  Abomination is not your soup.  YES, SOUP SOUNDS GOOD, A NICE BOWL OF BEAN WITH BACON -- THAT WOULD BE NICE ABOUT NOW.  Shh, he's praying!  RIGHT.  Tell us about the generation.  THE ACT OF GENERATION?  We've seen enough of that already.  Many critics are finding that loathesome, in fact.  SOME AN ACT OF HERESY.  Tell us of Genesis.  GENETIC MASTERPIECE: FATHER TO SON.  FATHER TO SON.  MOTHER OVERARCHING ABOVE ALL, AN OPEN APRON, A VELVETY ROSEBUD, FROM WHICH WE ALL APPEAR.  BACK TO WHICH WE ALL GO.  BECOMING EGG.  Farther.  WHO BARRELED DOWN THE HIGHWAYS OF THE PAST, JOURNEYING TO EACH OTHERS' HOTROD-GOLGOTHA JAIL-SOLITUDE WATCH OR BIRMINGHAM JAZZ INCARNATION?  Fresh as form.  APOLOGIZE FOR NOTHING.  Is it I then?  Am I the one to die?  SMELLING LIKE A BREWERY.  He thinks he's the Second Faulkner.  A LOT OF SECONDS AROUND HERE!  We can discover the traitor by taping his conversation -- and then playing it backwards.  KGB.  Kiss the Ground, Bill.  KILL GREATNESS, BILL.  Keep the Guest Busy.  I SEE.  Meritor of the muse.  THIS IS ALL NICE AND FINE -- BUT I WILL GET SICK IF I DON'T KEEP MY FEET WARM.  Pathetic little fairy.  LOOK AT YOU, ALL BEARDED UP AND PRETENDING HOLINESS.  I'VE SEEN YOU TAKE IT, BABY -- RIGHT IN THE NINE HOLE.  He's an embarassment to the literary establishment.  YES.  They both are.  YES.  Their lifestyle.  YES.  I am not hostile to homosexuality -- but need they cast it into our face all the time.  YES, PRECISELY.  Have a drink.  YOU WON'T BE ANOTHER FAULKNER UNLESS YOU WRITE LIKE ONE -- DRINKING LIKE ONE WON'T DO THE TRICK, BILL.  The Four Good Men.  OUT OF TWELVE.  Thirteen.  Twelve plus one.  PLUS ONE OLD ROSEBUD NOW BUT A ROSEBLIGHTER IN A BLACK DRESS.  Archaic web -- brutalizer of the imagination.  SNOW FALLING.  Why are we here?  FATHER, TAKE AWAY THIS CUP OF GALL, SO BITTER TO MY TASTE, IF THOU CAN.  Before death.  HE IS HAVING DOUBTS NOW, THE MAN WHO DEFEATED DEATH SO MANY YEARS BEFORE.  Death is not a curse but a liberty.  THEY SAY.  But which of us will see it so standing cheek-to-cheek with Old Man Moon?  FAITH IS A CONJUGATED VERB.  Aha -- drunken liberty.  HAS A SHOE.  Shoethful boy who once was a goldangel.  DO YOU DOUBT IT?  Not I.  I can see it in his features.  IN HIS ADVERBS TOO.  Scholastic exercise.  MORE THAN THAT.  To do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly before thy God.  THE MOTHER SPEAKS.  Bow your head three times.  THE HOST IS RAISED.  To know which in physical order is to know time past, present and to come, in the existence of successions of phenomena; to know which in the moral order is to know what has been, is, and will be, within human consciousness. BELLS RING.  BELLS RING.  BELLS RING.  Hosannah in the Highest.  Heaven and Earth are filled with your glory.  MADONNA IN THE HIGHEST PLACE.  MADONNA IN HER SHYEST FACE.  She is more a man than you are.  THE BALANCE OF THE SEA.  Personified secondary powers which have worked out the visible universe, and which became the anthropormorphic God of the Christians -- the male Jehovah, roaring amid thunder and lighting.  THE MALE HALF OF THE INFINITE.  Passing through the female half -- the female matrix -- and giving birth to oneself.  WINE COMING, SPILLED ON CLOTH.  Look at him there, sweating, afraid that he cannot go on.  IN THIS COLD WIND.  The man's in pain.  DODECAHEDRON.  In voices.  ONE: AIRYMAN BLOOMS AND BRINGS THE HOST IN TO PLAY.  Two: Taurarian Rose cradles his crux in the sun.  THREE: JIMINY CRICKETS, A BRO BREAKS THE HEAVENS.  Four: answer Kaye answer Pray and an May ith Way an en Pay.  IRON STAY.  Inner Say.  FIVE: eleo the Sun Clown; glasses de mort.  Six: Virgin Materio; HPB equals, also, 26.  MOTHER OF MY HEART.  Why have you left me here alone in this home?  MOTHER OF MY ELECTION.  Why have you cleft me here, a stone on my pelvic bone?  MOTHER OF MY ERECTION -- SHE WHO BUILT ME IN FLESH TO RISE.  Why have you bereft me here, a tree on my spleen?  OLD AGE.  MOTHER OF MY CONDITION.  And she says: We must not forget that when MJC equals 26, so WJC equals 36, the number of the ANTI-CHRIST.  If you add the numbers 1-36 together you get 666, the number of the beast.  BROTHER AND ANTI-BROTHER.  Gemini boys.  FROM THE VIRGIN 26 COMES THE VIRGIN 26.  52.  Virgin Rosebud.  ROSEBUD SUE.  Susie.  WHAT?  Sue -- how do you do?  WHAT?  The broken snowglobe in Homer's four-ply Mr. Plow commercial.  DON"T LOOK -- YOU'LL BE BLINDED!  Poor Homer.  A NEW YORKER MOLESTING A SATURDAY EVENING POST FROM BEHIND.  Doesn't the brother live in Rosebud Country, Montana?  NEAR WHERE CUSTER HAD HIS LOCKS CUT?  Crook that he was.  NEAR TED KUCINSKI'S CABIN?  A shame how the one brother turned in the other brother -- all for some sense of ethics or some sense of rivalry; it is not clear.  SEMINAL RIVALRY.  He lives at Wolf Den on Rosebud Lane.  NEAR ROCK SPRINGS?  Sumatra.  A CHOCOLATE KISS WILL MAKE HIM SMILE.  Ahh, Halle Berry.  A CHOCOLATE KISS, A MILKY LIP.  OR TWO.  OR FOUR.  Oh, his stomach churns again.  Have to do the dooty somewhere.  Man's act.  Under God's blue heaven.  TWELVE FACES.  Plus one.  EQUALS THAT MAGIC NUBMER 13, 1/2 OF 26.  PUT SOME PERFUME DOWN THERE, NEAR THE ROCK IN QUESTION.  Tin to one; half-dozen to the other.  BALMY BASTARD, SPEAKING LIKE THAT.  Standing before the Joshua Tree.  Saying a prayer to St. Bartelmey.  Squatting down.  Letting it go.  The thing he had held like a prayer for so long now, prior to the salmon.  Red on the inside.  QUEEN OF FRAGRANCE, LOVELY ROSE, THE BEAUTIES OF THY LEAVES DISCLOSE!  BUT THOU, FAIR NYMPH, THYSELF SURVEY IN THIS SWEET OFFSPRING OF A DAY THAT MIRACLE OF FACE MUST FAIL, THY CHARMS ARE SWEET, BUT CHARMS ARE FRAIL: SWIFT AS THE SHORT-LIVED FLOWER THEY FLY, AT MORN THEY BLOOM, AT EVENING DIE: THOUGH SICKNESS YET A WHILE FORBEARS, YET TIME DESTROYS WHAT SICKNESS SPARES: NOW HELEN LIVES ALONE IN FAME, AND CLEOPATRA'S BUT A NAME: TIME MUST INDENT THAT HEAVENLY BROW, AND THOU MUST BE WHAT THEY ARE NOW.  William Bloom.  BROOME.  William Bloom's broom.  WILLIAM BROOME'S BLOOM CLOSET -- GET THEE BACK IN!  O Captain my captain.  THAT DARK CHOCOLATE KISS, CLEOPATRA -- SHARED BY JC AND HIS APEX, MA.  JC is 13; and MA is 14 -- Marcus Antony.  I SEE -- NUMERO ECLESIASTES.  Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet: LCRW.  56.  Five plus 6 equals 11.  DARK DISCOVERY.  Let Rosebud Yellow Rose tell you a story -- about nature and about nature's fabulous yellowred rosebud.  She who walked along the Rosebud.  Lakota-Dakota.  SILENT, CAL -- YOU'RE BEGINNING TO EXCITE ME.  WITH YOUR FLYROD AND ALL.  CASTING OVER THE WAVES.  The Rosebud Cinema Drafthouse is a unique theater experience featuring independent films.  From our plush velvet loveseats and sofas to our micro-brew beer and stuffed crust pizza, the Rosebud is the big screen experience with the living room atmosphere.  WHAT'S SHOWING TONIGHT?  Man on A Tightrope, starring Robert De Niro as the legendary Michael Crossmann.  The film that earned director Martin Scorcese an academy award.  YES.  He attributed his inspiration for the film not only to the life of Michael Crossmann but also to the paintings of Breugel, the German  UNFOLDING THE ROSEBUD, A FLOWER OF GOD'S DESIGN; BUT I CANNOT UNFOLD THE PETALS WITH THESE CLUMSY HANDS OF MINE.  THE SECRET OF UNFOLDING FLOWERS IS NOT KNOWN TO SUCH AS I.  GOD OPENS THE FLOWER SO SWEETLY, WHEN IN MY HANDS THEY FADE AND DIE.  Marriages are made in heaven, Sharon.  SHARON, SHARON, DESERT ROSE.  WHERE WILL YOU BE, WHEN ALL THE BUILDINGS CLOSE?  A cup of tea?   FOR ME?  Surely.  A COFFEETABLE BOOK ON THE COFFEETABLE TABLETOP: A BAD BOY FROM ROSEBUD.  The second brother?  THE FIRST BROTHER, YOU MEAN.  Yes.  NO.  THE MURDEROUS LIFE OF KENNETH ALLEN MCDUFF.  The Broomstick Murderer?  YES.  You don't say.  MC DUFF WAS ARRESTED FOR BURGLARY, SENT TO PRISON, PAROLED, ARRESTED FOR THREE BRUTAL MURDERS WHILE ON PAROLE, CONVICTED OF FIRST-DEGREE MURDER, SENT BACK TO PRISON, PLACED ON DEATH ROW, TAKEN OFF DEATH ROW, CONVICTED OF A FELONY WHILE IN PRISON, PAROLED, ARRESTED FOR MAKING TERRORISTIC THREATS WHILE ON PAROLE, SENT BACK TO PRISON, PAROLED AGAIN, ARRESTED FOR DRIVING WHILE INTOXICATED ON PAROLE, PUT IN JAIL, RELEASED FROM JAIL, PLACED ON PROBATION, ARRESTED FOR PUBLIC INTOXICATION WHILE ON PAROLE AND PROBATION, ARRESTED FOR MURDER WHILE ON PAROLE AND PROBATION AGAIN.  I will kill him.  GET THE ROPE.  Be sure you don't faint.  MAYBE YOU CAN GET THOSE HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS TO DO IT FOR YOU.  He violated a pregnant girl with a bloomstick and a croak brottle.  HANG HIM OVER THAT RAFTER.  He is what's wrong with American justice.  MAKE HIM GAG; MAKE HIM SUFFER.  He says he's ready to be released.  USE YOUR ARMS, STRONG ARMS OF JUSTICE, MICHAEL.  It's like hauling a dead sow up a mountain.  RAISE HIGH THE ROOFBEAM, CARPENTER.  Jung Capenter.  OY.  Yes.  DEAD?  Rightly so.  YES.  If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly: if the assassination could trammel up the consequence, and catch with his surcease success; that but the blow might the the be-all and the end-all here, but here, upon this bank and shoal of time, we'ld jump the life to come.  But in these cases we still have judgment here; that we but teach bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor: this even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalic to our own lips.  He's here in double trust; first, as I am his kinsman and his subject, strong both against the deed; then, as his host, who should against his murderer shut the door, not bear the knife myself.  JACOB HEIMKREITER.  Helen and Cleopatra, one white and one black, both lovers of this man, Crossmann.  One the Moon and the other the Earth.  MARKED MAN.  One breast: Amazonian.  TWO BREASTS: AMAZING ONIAN.  Oriental girl.  TO COME.  NO DOUBT.  Fiona Appleonian.  YES.  I HEAR:  BEARERS OF MEANING.  Greek bearers.  DEMEANING.  Lorsch Monastery.  WHERE WE CURRENTLY RESIDE  -- HERE, LOST IN THE SNOW?  Lost in our thoughts.  AMEN.  Rosebud Millenium Egg, Number 36 on your program, Faberge's miraculous reproduction, which you can have for only five hundred American dollars.  TERRORISTS KIDNAP FIVE BEAUTIES OFF A GREEK ISLAND AND HOLD THEM FOR RANSOM.  Otto Preminger.  YES.  BUT THAT'S NOT THE REAL QUESTION.  The Rosebud?  YES.  Isabelle Huppert.  YES.  PERT BEAUTY THAT SHE IS.  Helene Entre Nous.  HER LAST NAME SOUNDING LIKE A FEMALE ORGAN.  An open female organ.  ORGANISM.  He is looking at us.  WILLFUL MAN.  IN HIS WHITE CORTISONE SHIRT.  Abbott and Costello.  YES, HE CLEARLY UNDERSTANDS US.  Seven: The Law is the Lha.  EIGHT: JEWISH QUEER IS A BUG.  A deep impact bug.  A POET WITH A BUG UP HIS ARSE.  Listen to us talking.  Like you are something better.  I AM NOT A POET!  Concurrence.  Nine: the sagging Marxist seeks to carry us.  TEN: YOURSELF THEN?  A SCAPEGOAT IN DISGUISE.  A scraped boat in demise.  SING A CAROL, SING IT LOUD.  Armani suit: wrinkle and burn it.  Eleven: and you.  Truth in water is not truth in sand.  AND TWELVE: THE BLACK-FACED TURRET.  Two black faces to cure.  THE BLACKFISH SANDWICH.  Judases carry it.  CARRY THE DAY?  Carry the blackfish sandwich.  And all the silver spices.  HE'S GIVING US THE EYE.  We'd better wait inside.  SHAMEFUL MEN -- SHAMEFUL BEHAVIOR.  I don't know why they are even here.  I don't know why they came along.  Where did he meet these men?  NOW, NOW.  THEY ARE GONE.  LET'S SIT WITH HIM, AS HE ASKED.  WE ALL KNOW WHAT IS WAITING FOR HIM.  WE ALL KNOW WHAT IS WAITING FOR US AS WELL.  Dromedary destiny, you mean?  PUT THAT BOTTLE AWAY, BILL.  WHAT IS IT THAT MAKES YOU DRINK?  IS IT FEAR?  IS IT A SENSE OF YOUR OWN....?  Inadequacy?  Huh?  Did I get it?  REMEMBER WHAT BROUGHT US ALL TOGETHER?  A sense of this man's literary greatness.  IT WAS MORE THAN MERE LITERARY GREATNESS.  It was the divinity context.  It was the angelic quest, to be sure.  BUT MORE THAN THAT.  The man reminded us of our own innocence, our own youth.  ONCE AND FUTURE.  Depending upon what's true.  BLACKEN THE MEAT.  LET IT ROT.  LET IT REEK.  LET IT FERMENT.  LET IT RISE IN VAPORS TO THE SKY.  LET IT FIND THE WIND.  LET IT MERGE WITH THE CLOUDS.  THEN IT BECOMES AGAIN MARRIED TO THE AIR, FRESH AND YOUNG, BORN FOR GLORY.  Angelic hypotenuse.  CARDIOGRAM BEHAVIOR.  The blackened heart.  BURNT AT THE STAKE.  Is that what it is?  Is that what awaits us?  YOU TOO A ROSE, BUD.  What does it mean -- this 'Rosebud' thing?  Why is it taking on such importance?  WASN'T IT THE LAST WORD HE SPOKE?  On the cross, you mean.  THERE MUST  BE SOMETHING MYSTICAL ABOUT IT.  YOU KNOW WHAT HE'S LIKE?  No, I'm not a magician, he said.  BUT THAT'S JUST IT.  HE IS A MAGICIAN.  WHO DO YOU THINK THAT CHARACTER IS, THE ONE THEY CALL THE MAGICIAN?  HOW DID HE JUST MANIFEST OUT OF NO WHERE ALL OF THE SUDDEN?  ONLY TO BECOME THE MOST POWERFUL FIGURE IN CROSSMANN'S LIFE?  It is a mystery.  CLEARLY.  Have you asked him about it?  MY PLACE IN ALL THIS IS TO BE HIS LITERARY CONSULTANT -- NOT HIS PRIEST.  I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BE HIS PRIEST.  Or his disciple?  THERE IS NOT REAL DISCIPLESHIP HERE.  WE ARE SPEAKING FOR HIM AS A WRITER.  NOT AS A MAN.  WE DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF MAN HE IS, REALLY.  Charlie's losing his nerve.  PUT A SOCK IN IT, BILL.  YOUR NERVE COMES OUT OF THAT BOTTLE.  What do you think they are going to do, Charlie?  Do you really think there is some parallel between Jesus Christ and this man?  Are you mad?  Do you think the US government is going to hunt us down because we have taken his side -- because we have spoken up for his literary gift?  I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK.  THE WHOLE NIGHT HAS TURNED STRANGE, HALLUCINOGENIC.  Learn to appreciate what you have.  SHH.  SHE'S SPEAKING AGAIN.  Don't listen to her!  She's a kind of witch.  She wants to turn us on end.  Beginning with a blackened image, salt of the earth.  Becoming vapor and rising up to violet.  YOU HAVE DONE YOUR HOMEWORK.  We don't belong here.  We are literary men.  LITERARY MEN HAVE A PLACE IN ALL OF THIS.  All this what -- this alchemy?  IS THAT WHAT IT IS?  Isn't that what it is?  This double womb business.  This matter and anti-matter.  Moving from one whom to the other: from the dream womb, the white womb, to the waking womb, the black womb.  WHICH IS WHICH?  Is this your form of prayer?  DON'T LISTEN TO HER!  SHE'LL TURN YOU IN TO CHEESE!  Into the Moon, you mean?  VERY FUNNY, BILL.  Up and down.  Up and down.  IN AND OUT.  IN AND OUT.  Let me look!  LITERARY TYPES.  A PURE MIRACLE IF YOU'RE ALL NOT QUEER.  You can't blame the man though -- for falling for that....  LUSCIOUS QUIM?  What?  YOU LOOK SO DIGNIFIED, HAROLD.  I'm a man, still -- dignified or not.  THE FIRST BECOMES THE SECOND; ONE BECOMES TWO.  TWO BECOMES THREE.  THREE BECOMES FOUR.  BUT FOUR IS ALSO ONE.  Air Fire Water Earth Water Fire Air.  AFWEWFA.  Mater Anna.  VIRGIN ABYSS.  The One is the Man and the Zero is the Woman.  The Man comes from the Woman but he also goes toward the Woman.  ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE MALKUTH.  Coming out on the other side.  BORN OUT OF THE OTHER SIDE.  Giving birth to himsmelf, through himself.  THE VAGINA IS A NORTH-SOUTH MATRIX.  What?  DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!

 

                                                           

 

Jesus, man, the art of complicity!  CLONE IS AS CLONE DOES.  Four guardians of truth!  ONE WITH A BOTTLE, GUARDIAN OF WIND, LIFTING HIS LEG AS HE FARTS!  One a guardian of Fire -- rambling, evidently, about the poor and God's son sent her for joy and justice.  THE GOLDEN AGE!  He who no longer drinks, only wishing he was drunk!  TWO OF ME, HIGH AND LOW.  Ab and Con.  The two brothers: Abbott and Consuelo.  AND THE NEXT?  Guardian of water -- sacred water.  DOES THE BLOOM COME BEFORE THE ROSE?  Guardian of the Well.  HE WHO OPENED THE CAN OF WORMS -- GUARDIAN OF THE WORMS.  And then Charlie, the guardian of the Earth.  The rose blooms, the fiery rose blooms.  The fiery rose blooms; Ham will will one harvest on the living.  DAMN YOU, TAKING THIS TOO FAR.  GIVE ME A DRINK TOO.  Give everyone a drink.  THE HOLY FOUR.  What will our wives be thinking about us tonight?  What is this -- our last hurrah!  THE PENIS IS AN EAST-WEST MATRIX.  What?  Damn drunk.  DAMN DRUNKS.  USE PLURAL WHEN YOU HAVE IT.  Draw it in the snow, damn you!

 

                       

 

HE'S AN OBSCENE DRUNK, AT THAT!  East-West is Day; North-South is Year.  MICROCOSM AND MACROCOSM.  King and Queen.  SUN AND MOON.  Separated by something.  SPACE.  Don't say that to me.  HEY, LISTEN TO THE OLD WOMAN.  What is that which was, is, and will be, whether there is a Universe or not; whether there be gods or none?  Space.  IS SHE THINKING FOR US?  She's complimenting us.  LISTEN!   The impossibility of accepting on philosophical grounds the idea of the absolute ALL creating or even evolving the 'Golden Egg,' into which it is said to enter in order to transform itself into Brahm‰ -- the Creator --  who expands himself later into gods and all the visible Universe. They say that Absolute Unity cannot pass to infinity; for infinity presupposes the limitless extension of something, and the duration of that 'something'; and the One All is like Space -- which is its only mental and physical representation on this Earth, or our plane of existence -- neither an object of, nor a subject to, perception. If one could suppose the Eternal Infinite All, the Omnipresent Unity, instead of being in Eternity, becoming through periodical manifestation a manifold Universe or a multiple personality, that Unity would cease to be one. Locke's idea that 'pure Space is capable of neither resistance nor Motion' -- is incorrect. Space is neither a 'limitless void,' nor a 'conditioned fulness,' but both: being, on the plane of absolute abstraction, the ever-incognisable Deity, which is void only to finite minds, and on that of mayavic perception, the Plenum, the absolute Container of all that is, whether manifested or unmanifested: it is, therefore, that ABSOLUTE ALL. There is no difference between the Christian Apostle's 'In Him we live and move and have our being,' and the Hindu Rishi's 'The Universe lives in, proceeds from, and will return to, Brahma (neuter)': for Brahma (neuter), the unmanifested, is that Universe in abscondito, and Brahma, the manifested, is the Logos, made male-female in the symbolical orthodox dogmas. The God of the Apostle-Initiate and of the Rishi being both the Unseen and the Visible SPACE. Space is called in the esoteric symbolism 'the Seven-Skinned Eternal Mother-Father.' It is composed from its undifferentiated to its differentiated surface of seven layers. SEVEN, INSTEAD OF FOUR.  Seven is Four.  WHAT?  One Two Three Four Three Two One -- that is seven.  YES.  We are forgetting the dual motion.  WHAT DUAL MOTION?  The interpenetration of the worlds.  THE INTERPENETRATION OF MATTER AND ANTI-MATTER.  Yes.  DRAW IT IS THE SNOW.  My finger is getting cold.  PUT YOUR FINGER UP YOUR ASS.  Yeah, you can draw it in Rembrandt brown.  JAUNE BISQUE.  Brun bouillabaisse.  JOHN SINGER SARGENT'S ARGENT.  Just draw.  Save the comedy for Seinfeld.

 

                                   

 

THAT IS SOME KIND OF STAR.  Clearly a unity.  The Two as One.  Male and Female united.  YES, A STAR.  The Star of Bethlehem.  BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA?  Liquor makes everyone a fool -- that much is clear.  IT IS LIKE CHAOS -- ALL ELEMENTS ARE EQUAL.  LIQUOR, I MEAN  It is a star -- but it is also a diamond!  I DON'T SEE THE DIAMOND!  Draw it in the snow.  PASS ME THE BOTTLE!  It is cold -- draw fast!

 

                                   

 

IF WE HAVE FOUR EXPANSIONS IN EACH DIRECTION BY BOTH MATRICES, THREE PLUS THE CENTER, OUR ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE -- THEN WE HAVE THE MYSTICAL FORMATION OF THE FLOWER, THE ROSE, EMANATING FROM THE ROSEBUD.  THAT IS THE MYSTICAL MEANING OF THIS 'ROSEBUD' THEME.  THE UNITY OF THE MAN AND THE WOMAN, THE TWO PARTS OF THE HUMAN NATURE, MASCULINE AND FEMININE.  Yes, make it rotate then.  MAKE IT ROTATE LIKE THE ATOM.  And the incest theme?   WHAT?  He and his daughter, in the bathroom at L'Odeon?  THAT WAS NOT HIS DAUGHTER.  But she seemed to be!  IN HIS MIND.  Yes.  IT WAS A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.  There is no such thing here!  HE WAS....DRIVEN TO.  HE'S A MAN, AFTERALL.  Yes, but his daughter.  WE HAVE DISCUSSED ALL THIS.  THE ARCHETYPAL FAMILY.  THE FATHER LOVES THE DAUGHTER; THE MOTHER LOVES THE SON.  THE FATHER'S SEXUAL UNION WITH HIS DAUGHTER LEADS TO HIS FALL.  I see.  Myth again.  WHAT ELSE IS THERE?  There is life.  Decency.  Political and social justice.  Love and marriage.  Marriage and betrayal.  Betrayal and death.  THAT'S WHAT I MEAN BY MYTH.  WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY MYTH?  Draw fast.

 

                                               

 

THAT'S A ROSETTE.  What?  A Rosetta Stone?  SERIOUSLY.  I am serious -- about the stone I mean.  A ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO DROSS.  The man is inside the woman.  YES, CLEARLY.  It is the sexual act.  IS THE MAN THE CIRCLE OR THE SQUARE -- I GET CONFUSED ON THAT ISSUE.  Remember, the man is the odd number.  THE CIRCLE IS WHAT?  The Circle is Zero, Cipher, Sipher.  IS THIS THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE, THEN?  Black; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet; white -- what is in-between?  WHAT IS THE RAINBOW?  What is God's covenant with Man?  WHAT IS: WHITE; VIOLET, BLUE, GREEN, YELLOW, ORANGE, RED; BLACK?  God's alliance with Anti-Man?  AFTER WHITE AND BLACK MEET, THE WAR, THE RAINBOW APPEARS, INDICATING A TRUCE: THE LIGHT HAS RETURNED.  Damn, it's getting cold out here.  CAN'T WE GO IN?  I'm an old man.  I really shouldn't be sitting out here.  It's freezing.  LOOK AT THAT DAMN MAGICIAN, SITTING NEXT TO MICHAEL.  THOSE DAMN MAGIC GLASSES.  THAT'S THE REASON THAT ALL OF THIS CRAZINESS GOT OUT OF HAND.  God forgive the society that begins turning to its artists for leadership.  AMEN TO THAT.  Artists rule the heavens; but they are blind children down here on earth.  WE ARE PUTTING OURSELVES IN JEOPARDY!  Double Jeopardy.  YES.  Double Indemnity.  FRED MC MURRAY -- ONE OF HIS FEW ROLES AS A VILLAIN.  Yes.  Where is he going by himself?  UP THE HILL.  Not far.  WHAT DOES HE HAVE IN HIS HAND.  She gave him some kleenex.  GOD, HE ISN'T GOING TO -- IS HE?  Relieve himself?  BEHIND THAT TREE?  COTSON.  Well, he's a man afterall -- like any of us.  DON'T LOOK.  I don't want to see this.  HE'S SQUATTING DOWN -- YOU CAN BARELY SEE HIS HEAD.  I hope a strong wind doesn't come up.  THE AIR WOULD FREEZE IT BEFORE IT MOVED AN INCH.  What -- the smell?  Can't you smell that smell?  YOU HAVE SNOT COMING OUT YOUR NOSE.  YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SMELL ANYTHING ANYWAY.  Toxicum et venenum.  WHAT?  Well, it's cold out here.  Give me yhour handkerchief.  JUST PUT IT OUT OF YOUR MIND.  HE'S A MAN.  HE NEEDED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.  What are we going to do -- when the police come?  GIVE OURSELVES UP.  We've done nothing wrong.  WE HAVE MERELY SUPPORTED THE FIRST AMENDMENT.  Are we all daft?  Is this just some mad dream we are all sharing, which will end as soon as we jar ourselves awake.  YOU'D BETTER ASK HIM, THE MAN IN THE BUSHES.  IT SEEMS MORE LIKE HIS DREAM THAN OURS.  Yeah, we're just along for the ride, I think.  IT SEEMS MORE LIKE HIS NIGHTMARE THAN HIS DREAM.  HE'S FREEZING HIS BUTT UP THERE.  NOT A VERY STATELY POSITION FOR THE SON OF GOD TO BE IN.  IT'S A GOOD THING NO TELEVISION CAMERAS ARE HERE -- OR THERE WOULD BE HELL TO PAY FOR THIS.  HE'S POLLUTING THE ENVIRONMENT IF NOTHING ELSE.  The environmentalist aren't voting for him anyway.  SOMETIMES I'M STRUCK BY THE INSANITY OF ALL THIS.  WHAT DO WE KNOW ABOUT THIS MAN?  HE IS BECOMING THE LEADER OF OUR COUNTRY.  AND WE REALLY DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM.  EXCEPT THAT HIS WIFE CHEATED ON HIM, HE LOST HIS TRUE LOVE, AND HIS FATHER'S DEATH ABOUT KILLED HIM, AND HE HAD SOME KIND OF SEX WITH A TEENAGER.  And that he betrayed his mother.  YES -- IN THE NURSING HOME.  And that he betrayed his brother.  OH, YES, WITH THE PHONE CALL TO POLICE.  Who made that phone call -- which brother -- I was never clear on that.  AND THAT HE HAD SOME KIND OF SEXUAL THING WITH HIS SISTER.  What?  I didn't hear that.  OH, YEAH.  HE HAD A THING FOR HIS SISTER.  HE DRILLED A HOLE IN THE WALL OF HER ROOM SO HE COULD WATCH HER UNDRESS.  Really.  THAT'S NOT SO RARE.  MOST BOYS DO THAT, DON'T THEY?  There was some kind of rumor that he touched her too.  Her beasts, I mean.  I'm not sure if it's true.  ALL BOYS ARE LIKE THAT, ARENT THEY?  What I'm saying is that we admire him as a writer; but we really don't know who he is.  Not really.  ARE YOU GOING TO BETRAY HIM, CHARLIE?  What?  No.  I'm not saying we betray him.  I'm only hoping he doesn't betray us.  I"M AN OLD MAN.  IF IT'S TIME FOR ME TO DIE, THEN SO BE IT!  What are you saying?  There will be no deaths here, esteemed colleague.  It is a dark phantasm we have loosed with our drink and our starry dome shouldering shadows leaping on the hillside.  THAT'S OUR FRIEND, COMING BACK.  Without the kleenex.  HE MUST HAVE DONE A NUMBER TWO.  Guided only by moonlight.  CAREFUL WHEN YOU SHAKE HIS HAND.  Gentlemen, please have some respect.  Your thoughts are rude; and I am clairvoyant.  You upset me.  CRAP.  I FORGOT ABOUT HER.  We should get the hell out of here -- go back inside and get warm.  WE CAN'T ABANDON HIM.  THINK ABOUT HISTORY.  HOW HISTORY WILL REMEMBER US.  Isomorphism.  WHAT?  What can he mean by this -- here -- in this context.  AS ABOVE, SO BELOW.  Yes, yes -- Hermes' dictum -- a phallic emblem no doubt.  We know it well.  IF A BEAR SHITES IN THE WODES, DOES SOMEONE HEAR IT FALL -- THE TUNC PAGE, I MEAN -- ONLY IF IT FALLS OR ONLY IF SOMEONE HEARS OR SMELLS IT...?  I don't wish to get into this.  HE'S COMING BACK -- SHOW THE MAN SOME RESPECT.  He began to get himself into very difficult waters when he uttered his belief that he was God, or at least a god, or an angel, something divine.  MATHESIS -- MY FINGER'S NUMB.  Blow on it!  FUIT, FUIT.  FUIT, FUIT.  Draw it in the snow.  PUT IT IN THE SNOW.  THE SNOW WILL WARM IT UP.  To utter your own divinity is an advertisement to the angels or to the demons, instructing them to destroy you.  I mean it -- literally, to destroy you!  SO IS THAT WHAT IS COMING?  Math-Thesis.  Add one through twenty-six, one gets 351.  I DON"T GET IT.  365 minus 351 is 14.  January 14.  Birthdate of many famous people: Sjihab al-Din Sultan Choerram Sjah Djahan, leader of India; Benedict Arnold, US general turn traitor in the Revolutionary War; John Bullock Clark Jr, Brig General in the Confederate Army, who died in 1903; Jonathan Daly, Chicago, actor, not to be confused with the Daly political machine in Chicago; William Bendix, NYC, actor, who starred in Lifeboat, the Babe Ruth Story, and in the tv show, The Life of Riley; Dorothy Faye Dunaway, Bascom Florida, actress, who starred Chinatown and Bonnie & Clyde -- famous for the words 'she's my daughter, she's my sister, she's my sister, she's my daughter'; Julian Bond, born in Nashville, Tennessee, civil rights leader and later democratic congressman from Georgia, considered by many to be the legitimate successor to Martin Luther King and a possible presidential candidate.  Also the death date for Anas Nin, Cuban/American writer, author of Delta of Venus and other works.  It was also the date that the US Supreme Court rules that racial segregation on public buses was unconstitutional.  It was the date of the Sex Pistols final concert performance; and the premier of The Simpsons on Fox TV.  It was the date, according to orthodox tradition, that Jesus was circummcised.  And it is New Year's Day in the 20th and 21st centuries according to the Julian Calendar.  IN RA's ENGLISH KABALA, THE NUMBER OF PATRIARCHY IS 334.  THE NUMBER OF MATRIARCHY IS 351.  351 is produced by multiplying 13 by 27.  351, IN TERMS OF THE ENGLISH ALPHABET, TRANSLATES AS LETTERS 'C E A'.  TRANSPOSED AS 'ACE', THIS IS THE KABBALA'S KETHER, HIGHEST AND LOWEST, NUMBER 1 AND NUMBER 11 -- FIRST AND LAST.  And there is that number again, 111.  3 PLUS 5 PLUS 1 EQUALS NINE.  NOTICE HOW NUMBERS ONE THROUGH NINE DIVIDE INTO 3 GROUPS OF NAMES, ONE GROUP OF THREE LETTERS, A SECOND GROUP OF FOUR LETTERS, AND A THIRD GROUP OF FIVE LETTERS.

      GROUP ONE: ONE, TWO, SIX.

      GROUP TWO: FOUR, FIVE, NINE

      GROUP THREE: THREE, SEVEN, EIGHT

      IN JEWISH GEMATRIA, 351 IS THE NUMBER OF BOTH MOSES AND ENOCH, WHO, IS SAID TO HAVE BECOME, LATER, THE ANGEL METATRON, THE HEAVENLY SCRIBE.  MOSES' BROTHER AARON, IS MENTIONED IN THE BIBLE 351 TIMES, 346 TIMES IN THE OLD TESTAMENT AND 5 TIMES IN THE NEW TESTAMENT.  JESUS IS THOUGHT TO HAVE RECEIVED 351 WOUNDS FROM HIS SCOURGING AT THE TEMPLE -- BEING BEATEN 39 TIMES WITH A CAT-O-NINE-TAILS, A WHIP WITH NINE FINGERS TO WHICH SHARP IVORY OR METAL NAILS WERE ATTACHED.  39 TIMES 9 EQUALS 351.  IN ENGLISH GEMATRIA, THE PHRASE 'JESUS CHRIST, SON OF GOD, SAVIOUR' EQUALS 351.  YOU WILL NOTICE ALSO THAT THE NUMBERS 1 THROUGH 26, WHEN ADDED TOGETHER, ALSO EQUAL 351.   

     

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'Man', in Hebrew, also equals 351.

 

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PSALM 90, 20 READS: 'TEACH US TO NUMBER OUR DAYS 'RIGHT".  THIS ALSO, IN ENGLISH GEMATRIA, EQUALS 351 -- AND CONCERS THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST.  Who is this speaking?  NAMES MEAN MUCH APPARENTLY.  Yes, who is speaking?  IN ENGLISH GEMATRIA, THE WORDS 'THE GOD OF MOSES,' 'JESUS CHRIST,' AND 'HOLY SPIRIT' ALL EQUAL 151.

 

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Is this some kind of magic act?  YOU ASKED FOR PROOF.  Who is speaking?  Is this that magician speaking?  I know who you are!  I know that you have powers of ventroliquism!  DO YOU THINK IT'S HIM?  I heard the voice coming out of the sky.  IT MAY BE THAT DAMNED WOMAN.  SHE HAS THE POWER, ALSO, TO THROW HER VOICE.  I"VE READ ABOUT HER.  SOME KIND OF RUSSIAN CHARLATAN.  SHE EMBRACED AN INDIAN SCHOOLBOY AS THE NEW CHRIST, THE NEW KRISHNA, AND HE PROVED TO BE A FRAUD!  What is this all about?  Is this some trick to make us stay here, in the cold?  RELAX, MAN.  The older brother's initials, WJC, add up to 36; and the number added one through 36 equals 666, the number of Satan.  The younger brother's initials, MJC, add up to 26; and the numbers added one through 26 equals 351, which is equivalent with 'Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour'.  YOU HAVE SUMMED IT UP QUITE WELL, CHARLIE.  Let's not forget that William Jefferson Clinton, too, another WJC, also equals 36.  And totals 666.  PILLORY CLINTON!  What does this mean, rationally, I mean?  We have supported this man, Michael Crossmann I mean, not Bill Clinton, at least I have, because I felt he believed in the poor, in the lowly, in the despised.  THAT IS ALL TRUE, PETE.  But these numbers mean nothing to me.  Do they need to mean something?  I am a man of reason.  I am not a man of smoke and mirrors.  YOU CAN BE BOTH, PETER.  BE WHOLE.  Whole is a frightening thing to be.  THE ALTERNATIVE IS MENTAL ILLNESS.  Yes.  But the alternative to mental illness is also frightening.  SO WHAT IS NUMBER 453.  You tell me.  IF YOU ADD THE 151 OF 'THE GOD OF MOSES' AND THE 151 OF 'JESUS CHRIST' AND THE 151 OF 'HOLY SPIRIT, THAT PRODUCT IS 453.  Yes, that is what I was going to say. YES.  THE PHRASE 'GOD THE FATHER, GOD THE SON AND GOD THE HOLY SPIRIT' IS ALSO 453.

 

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453

 

 

Where is that voice coming from?  THE WORD 'TRINITY' EQUALS 115, A TRANSPOSITION OF 151.  Is that the voice of an angel?  WHAT ARE THEY TRYING TO DO TO US.  There, in the sky -- some kind of light.  THERE ARE MEANINGS IN WORDS, MEANINGS WE CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND.  Where did the letters come from?  DON'T GET STARTED, BILL.  I don't understand.  IS THE VOICE COMING OUT OF THAT LIGHT.  No, it's that damned ventriloquist.  Look at him, his mouth is moving.  The Magician, I mean.  I THINK IT MAY BE GINSBERG!  I'VE NEVER TRUSTED HIM.  AND HIS DAMNED POETRY.  SCATTER-BRAND POETRY.  SCATTERING HIS SEMEN TO THE WIND -- LITTLE MORE -- AND TO LITTLE BOYS -- LITTLE ARAB BOYS.  AND SINGING AB OUT IT.  BEASTLY BEATITUDES.  The 'Beats' gave us very little that was really valuable -- don't you agree?.  All that extreme experience -- but what about the literature that emerged from it?  WE BELIEVE IN ONE LORD, JESUS CHRIST, BEGOTTEN, NOT MADE; OF THE SAME ESSENCE AS THE FATHER.  THROUGH HIM ALL THINGS WERE MADE.  FOR US AND FOR OUR SALVATION HE CAME DOWN FROM HEAVEN; HE BECAME INCARNATE BY THE HOLY SPIRIT AND THE VIRGIN MARY, AND WAS MADE HUMAN.  The Nicene Creed -- 351 AD.  A CRUEL DIADEM CONTAINING OVER 100 SPICULETS WAS DRIVEN INTO HIS HEAD WITH BLOWS FROM A ROD.  Jesus, man -- is that speculation?  SPICULETS OF SPECULATUM.  The Jerusalem thorn, known as the Arabian Nebulae, was 4 inches long and a sharp as a needle.  AND WHEN THEY HAD PLATTED A CROWN OF THORNS, THEY PUT IT UPON HIS HEAD, AND A REED IN HIS RIGHT HAND; AND THEY BOWED THE KNEE BEFORE HIM, AND MOCKED HIM, SAYING: 'HAIL KING OF THE JEWS'!  INRI.  Transposed as RINI - what is Trinity?  Or 50.  THAT IS THE INCORRECT ANSWER.  What is Iron Nails Run In --Oyce Jay Ames Jay?  AGAIN, THE INCORRECT ANSWER.  What is Introibo nad ralteri ieo?  AGAIN, THE INCORRECT ANSWER.  What is Iesus Nazarenvs Rex Ivdaeorvm?  AND THE NUMBER?  50.  CORRECT.  Rise Initiates Negative Inflation.  WHAT?  What the hell are they doing out here again?  WHO?  Inflation Necessitates Rigid Induction.  INCIPIENT NATURE RULES INTELLIGENCE.  Intelligence Negates Rural Intuition.  RICE INSTITUTIONALIZES NATIVE INFLUCTION?  Hold on, here.  What is that light?  WE CAME OUT BECAUSE WE HEARD A VOICE -- AN UNEARTHLY VOICE.  It sounded like it was coming out of the sky.  SILENCE!  Mathesis.  UFO?  IRA?  42 PLUS 28 EQUALS 70.  Pascal is pleased.  PASCALI'S ISLAND.  Association by sound.  DON'T BEGIN THIS DISCUSSION, PLEASE!  IT IS TOO COLD OUT HERE!  There are some, and I know Michael Crossmann is one, who believe that sound is inherently meaningful.  Sound comes as a kind of intelligent force.  Sound first.  Words form out of sounds.  Then words which appear at first glance to be nonsensical suddenly are seen to bear a remarkable message.  For more extreme the nonsense in many cases, the more profound the meaning.  That's why poetry is higher than reason -- because it is closer to this source of truth and meaning.  Poetry is the first clothes this being takes, this being of magic and wisdom.  POETRY MORE THAN NUMBERS.  In the Beginning was the Word, my friend.  YES, PERHAPS.  BUT BEFORE THE BEGINNING WAS THE NUMBER.  AIN-SOPH: NO THING.  ZERO.  A conception.  YES, AN IMMACULATE CONCEPTION.  Are we here to honor this man or to be converted to his way of thinking?  THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE!  THERE WILL BE NO CONVERSION!  We are already hearing voices and seeing lights in the sky.  Are we pretending this is not happening?  AND WHAT IS THE WORD?  IS THE WORD, ITSELF, NOT A MICROCOSMIC PROJECTION OF THE MICROCOSMIC PROJECTION ITSELF?  Is that Ginsberg speaking?  I THINK NOT.  I THINK HE IS EATING A CREAM PUFF OR SOMETHING WITH CREAM IN IT.  HE HAS THE REMNANTS ON HIS LIPS AND CHEEK.  Arab cream, I'd surmise.  ARAB BOY CREAM I'D SPECULATUM.  Speak more clearly.  WHAT IS THE WORD BUT AN ATOM -- WITH A POSITIVE NUCLEUS COMPOSED OF PROTONS AND A NEGATIVE SERIES OF SHELLS ROTATING AROUND THE CORE.  A CORE COMPOSED OF VOWELS; AND A RING COMPOSED OF CONSONENTS?  What?  Are you joining this insaninanity? THE NUCLEUS COMPOSED OF VOWELS -- THE ACTIVATORS.  THE CONSONENTS ROTATING LIKE PLANETS, BODIES, AROUND A VOWEL SUN.  Six vowels -- the seventh being hidden.  WHAT?  The verb is the nucleus; and the noun is the shell, rotating on the periphery.  NOW YOU ARE SHIFTING SCALES.  SHIFTING PERIPHERIES.  The Noun represents the Ego; and the Verb represents the essential entity inside the personality.  The active mover.  The soul that moves; the Noun that is moved, and, so, moves.  STOP!  THIS IS NOT PRAYER!  Meditating guardian.  IS THAT WHO IT IS, A GUARDIAN?  A is 1; and B is 2, the first skin put on by 1.  BETA, YOU MEAN.  Or Beth.  GET SOME SESAME!  OPEN SHAME ON THE MAN SEEKING SILENCE, TO BLESS'A ME, CARESS'A ME!  Things a-change-a.  OH, DYLAN AGAIN!  Which Dylan?  THE LIVING DYLAN.  Who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity, who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes, who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second.  LONELY HEROES IN DENVER.  Bob Martin on the radio.  THIRD AND FOUR; ELWAY BACK.  Remember, the high is in the low; the low is in the high.  YES -- MEDITATION PARDON.  Elio Chacon sliding under Berra's tag.  Marichal unleashing his bat on Roseboro's forehead.  CO-EQUAL WITH REMBRANDT.  Wyeth?  WHY WHAT?  Oh, I can hear the Lords of Marberry wince and turn a taintedear away from the speaker.  The high seek always to be high.  But they shall not always be so.  They shall be lowered by God's own angels down into the soil of the fields, to fertilize the collardbeds; to circulate the coalthreads.  THE KINGS OF SUBURBS.  The Mannerly Hamptons.  EUROPE.  THE GREAT CONDEE AND ALL OF HIS KIN.  SET FOR A FALL.  A scourging by the muscle missle hymns.  OF ARABIA.  Muslim missive hims.  OF CALADONIA.  OR MAURETANIA.  Serefs by Night.  AMMOHEADS.  AND ALMORABIDS.  CONQUERORS OF FORM.  The tailor with his tale of taels.  VOBISCUM SOUP.  Hard of hearing.  HARK THE HERALD (ANGELS' STRING).  Omnipotentem.  BLASTED FRIEZE.  THE DAMNED CAR PARTS ARE LOST.  Good on you, mate.  PREDICATES APPROVED.  A man of stones.  STONE MAIDEN.  A keyhole; and a key to find it.  Fitting it in.  Makes you king -- the sword fixed.  Arthur.  AHH, ANALYTICAL ARTHUR -- HEIR AROUND IT.  Nomen clay tour.  MYSTICAL ROOT.  Mystical fruit.  BENDING OVER, SHOWING A CRACK OR TWO.  Laugh if you can.  Music plays.  MUD ON YOUR FEET.  DANCE FOR THE FRAMING.   The fruit, farthest from the root, falls back to the Earth and he is, verily, the fruit from which the seeds are used, taken, the fruit which gives the next spring's children.  ROAMIN'.  Roman pole and sky.  ARTEMIS HAS HIS PANTS DOWN.  Relief is only a second away.  DON'T WIPE EURS ELF WITH THE TUNC PAGE!  Po-lice!  ROAMIN'.  Poll Lansky.  MY SISTER; MY DAUGHTER.  MY SISTER; MY DAUGHTER.  Fade dawn, away?  CAN'T YOU SMELL THAT SMELL?  Who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz, who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave, who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury, who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy, and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia, who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia, returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East.  WHAT THE HELL IS HE EVEN DOING HERE?  Oh, that's easy.  He's here to fulfill the prophecy.  WHAT PROPHECY?  But first he must suffer many things and be rejected of his generation.  HAS HE NOT REJECTED HIS OWN SELF-GENERATION?  Bean Gate, you mean?  And, so, they shall reject him.  IS HE JUDAS THEN/  You are getting warm.  WHICH IS IT: BLACK OR BROWN?  WHICH IS IT: RED OR WHITE?  Mercury, sodium or salt?  OR COPPER?  Red Daphna was the Red Woman -- copper membrane -- remember, from his book?  Fantastic copper membrane.  Imagined: not surveyed.  WHAT A VEIN!  Who -- blue lubber boy?  AN AGENT OF WHOM -- MARS THEN?  The red awning.  The first even.  HE WRITES AS IF HE HAS A CIPHER IN THE BRAIN.  A wombtemplate in the crane of M.  SOME KIND OF BEAST COMING OUT.  Smelling just like sulpher.  THAT WAS ME -- YOU KNOW, THE CHILI BEAN SAUCE.  Archer of invective.  JUST A THOUGHT.  Just a homo's actual thought.  AN ARAB HOMO'S TEXTUAL THOUGHT.  I am not a almostsexual -- I am not a almhostsexual!  ELEPHANTISIS OF THE GLOWNADS.  Aleph and Isis: locked on a boat.  IN ICE.  I am just in disguise!  YOU SHOULD STAIN YOUR BEARD RED -- IT MIGHT BE MORE CONVINCING.  Convincing of what -- that I am a man in love with a woman's purse during her curse?  FOWL MOUTH FOR SUCH A THIN BIRD!  Common talk in a place of worship!  WE CAME HERE TO SHOW OUR SUPPORT -- BUT HE IS TRYING TO CONVERT US!  He is Ahab, damn him -- and this is his ship!  THIS CHAPEL, FRIEND?  Father Mapple was a scribe too!  RELAX!  NOTHING CAN HAPPEN TO US THAT WE DON'T ALLOW!  The police are not coming for Crossmann -- they are coming for one of the dark skinned ones: the negro, Jim; or the Arab disgised as a New York homosexual disguised as a bear disguised as an architect; or the fat Jewboy who pretends he is a poet.  CROSSMANN, HIMSELF, HAS A BLACK FACE NOW!  Yes.  What is that anyway?  Get him to rub some snow on it, to remove it.  IT'S SHOE POLISH.  IT WAS THE MAGICIAN'S IDEA.  He's behind all of this.  I just know he is.  HE AND THE BROTHER.  THE ONE WHO ALTERNATELY BELIEVES HE IS ADOLPH HITLER AND THEN MARK ANTONY.  Friend of that humanitarian ecologist who killed people with the letter bombs -- the green one, what was his name?  LEWINSKY?  Something like that -- Ked Twoinsme.  THAT WAS A REAL BOMMER -- EVERYONE LOVED HIM.  Ahh, the wearing of the green.  Say it loud and say it louder:  I'm green and I'm proud!  (And I'm carrying powder.)  THE NAZIS WERE ALSO GREEN PARTY MEMBERS -- IN THE BEGINNING.  What are you saying?  Are you saying that the ecologists are Nazis.  WELL, YES.  IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING.  THEY ARE MAN-HATERS FIRST.  SO WERE THE NAZIS.  Is Ralph Nader....Hermann Goerring then?  I'D SAY HE'S MORE LIKE JOSEPH GOEBBELS.  Really?  And who is the leader then?  IT ALL DEPENDS ON HOW THE WORLD TOURNS.  They believe themselves the savior of the Earth.  NATURE OUTLIVES ART AND ART OUTLIVES MEN.  BUT GOD OUTLIVES NATURE.  Yes.  Is that true?  IS CROSSMANN A COWBOY OR AN INDIAN?  THAT'S THE QUESTION.  Is he red or green?  YES.  OR WHITE?  When he is a cowboy, his brother is an indian; and when he is an indian everything goes to sleep.  WHEN HE IS AN INDIAN, HIS BROTHER IS A COWBOY.  AND WHEN HE IS A COWBOY EVERYONE STARTS TO WEEP.  No: everyone gets along.  WARM IN HEAVEN.  WARD IN EBON.  Thief of words.  TYRANT OF CONCEPTS.  Yes, they are.  MICHAEL, IN ENGLISH GEMATRIA, EQUALS 51.  JESUS CHRIST EQUALS 151.  THEY ARE MADE OF THE SAME FLESH.  MICHAEL SUBTRACTED FROM JESUS CHRIST IS 100.  THE PERFECT NUMBER.  Five plus one is six; this is Tiphereth's number.  WHO ALSO IS MICHAEL.

 

13

M

9

I

3

C

8

H

1

A

5

E

12

L

 

 

51

 

 

This is getting us too far from the point!  The point is helping the poor!  Not this mystical mumbo jumbo.  125.  What?  MUMBO JUMBO IS 125.  What are you, some damned calcination machine...uh, calculating machine?  CALCU LIE CALCULORUM.  Pebbles in one hand; pebbles in two.  EIN-STEIN.  ONE GLASS FULL OF STONES.  What? 95.  Is he retarded?  Someone, turn him off.  EIN'A-STEIN'A.  One what did you say?  A glass full of acrobats?  THE POOR, DAMN IT!  HE NEEDS TO LEAD A REVOLUTION TO SAVE THE WORLD'S POOR!   Tell him then!  HE JUST SMILES.  HE LOOKS AT ME LIKE I DON'T GET IT.  Maybe you don't get it.  DON'T GIVE ME THAT, YOU WASHED UP RATTLETRAP COULDDA-BEEN SHOULDDA-BEEN REAL ESTATE PUNK ASS.  I should throw gasoline in his face.  MOLOTOV - 112.  MICHAEL ARCANGEL IS ALSO 112.  See, divine inspiration proves that Crossmann is supposed to be a revolutionary!  ARCANGEL IS MISSPELLED.  What?  ARCHANGEL IS SPELLED WITH A 'K' OR A 'CH'!  A k-k-k?  What does that spell?  ARKANGEL IS 69.  MICHAEL THE ARKANGEL EQUALS 153, WHICH IS CHARACTERISTIC OF THE MISSION OF JESUS -- AND IS A TRANSPOSITION OF 351, 'JESUS CHRIST, SON OF GOD, SAVIOR'.  153 IS THE SUM OF THE NUMBERS 1 THROUGH 17 ADDED TOGETHER.  OF COURSE, MICHAEL CROSSMANN WAS BORN ON DECEMBER 17, 1950.

 

13

M

9

I

3

C

8

H

1

A

5

E

12

L

20

T

8

H

5

E

1

A

18

R

11

K

1

A

14

N

7

G

5

E

12

L

 

 

153

 

 

 

In Hebrew, 153 is also the number of the Angel of Libra.  Michael, holding his scales and his sword, is also the Angel of Libra.  The Angel of the West.

 

8

Ch

Angel of Libra

4

D

 

 

100

Q

 

 

10

Y

 

 

1

A

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

153

 

 

 

 

 

12/17/50: 1 PLUS 2 PLUS 1 PLUS 7 PLUS 5 PLUS 0 EQUALS 16 -- THIS, THE NUMBERICAL VALUE OF HIS SALUTORY INITIALS, MC.  12/17/1950: 1 PLUS 2 PLUS 1 PLUS 7 PLUS 1 PLUS 9 PLUS 5 PLUS 0 EQUALS 26 -- THIS, THE NUMERICAL VALUE OF HIS FULL INITIALS, MJC.  I don't remember anything about this 'mission of Christ' and the number 153.  YES, REMEMBER -- (IN A THROWN VOICE):  Some comparisons can be made to show the existing connection between the number of the Beast, 666 (that is the triangulation of 36), and the characteristic number of the mission of the Christ, 153 (the triangulation of 17). Note that in the Gospel of Luke, the verse 36 of chapter 17, does not exist. And put aside verses 1 S 17,36 and 2 K 17, 36, the reference chapter 17 verses 36 never occur in any other place in the Bible. These two verses of the Old Testament highlight the combat led against the Antichrist and that only the Christ must be adored. At 2 K 17,36, the people are warned against the false gods and that they have to adore only the Lord: 'You are to bow down and offer sacrifice only to Yahweh'.  At 1 S 17,36, it is David that told Saul that Goliath will fall between his hands 'for having challenged the armies of the living God'. David, a shepherd (symbolizing the 'The Good Shepherd', the Christ) faces Goliath and kills him by cutting his head (symbol of the Antichrist dethroned) with a sword (symbol of the Word of God)...."  SEE!  I TOLD YOU IT WAS THAT DAMNED MAGICIAN!  HE'S BEEN THROWING HIS VOICE ALL NIGHT!  And the light!  Was he responsible for the light?  HE'S A MAGICIAN.  HE CAN DO ALL SORTS OF THINGS.  HE CAN MAKE AN ELEPHANT DISAPPEAR.  I THINK HE CAN MANAGE SOMETHING SMALL, LIKE THE APPEARANCE OF A LIGHT IN THE SKY.  A star?  WAS IT A STAR?  I DON'T THINK WE EVER AGREED THAT IT WAS A STAR?   A pulsar.  WAS IT A PULSAR?  1950 plus 12 plus 17 equals 1979, the year of Crossmann's re-birth.  1 PLUS 9 PLUS 7 PLUS 9 EQUALS 26.  1 PLUS 9 EQUALS 10; 7 PLUS 9 EQUALS 16.  AGAIN THESE SAME NUMBERS APPEAR.  It is during the Dawn and the Dusk that the opposites meet, woman and man.  Sexual conjunction.  If the seed is planted at the Spring Equinox, March 21, then the 9-month baby will be born on 21 December, the Winter Solstice.  If the seed is planted at the Autumn Equinox, September 21, then the 9-month baby will be born on 21 June, the Summer Solstice.  THIS GIVES YOU THE TWO IN ONE: THE KING, THE HERO, BORN ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP, JUNE 21, MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL; AND THE MARTYR, JESUS CHRIST, BORN IN THE VALLEY, DECEMBER 21.  And, if the cycle is the reverse, the Southern Cycle, you have the birth of the anti-king, the anti-hero; and then the birth of the anti-martyr.  THE REVOLUTIONARY WHO HATES JESUS.  AND THE BLACK ANGEL WHO HATES MICHAEL.  An angel falls; a man also falls.  VERY SUGGESTIVE.  BUT I DON'T UNDERSTAND THE ETYMOLOGY.  Etymology Shetemology.  The fact is, you insist that your intellect rule.  Your ego needs to be dominant.  VERY SUGGESTIVE.  BUT I DON'T UNDERSTAND...  Ego, Superego, Id.  ESI.  33 -- THE AGE OF CHRIST AT HIS DEATH.  Fine.  Freud has had his century.  THEN WHO SHALL FOLLOW?  Who shall lead, you mean?  YES.  Jung will outlive Freud.  WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS WHAT DEVELOPMENTS WE CAN EXPECT FROM THIS ANARCHIST MOVEMENT, THIS ANTI-WORLD MARKET MOVEMENT?  Peter, the communist left is just hanging its hat on the next imaginery revolution.  GREEN GREEN, MY WORLD IS GREEN.  GREEN IS THE SKY; AND GREEN IS THE MOON.  Does it have a future -- green, I mean?  ONLY IN THE WORLD'S GRAVE.  The Magic Square of the Sun is the perfect cube, having six sides and containing all the numbers from 1 through 36. 

 

1

35

34

3

32

6

30

8

28

27

11

7

24

23

15

16

14

19

13

17

21

22

20

18

12

26

9

10

29

25

31

2

4

33

5

36

 

THE ANTI-CHRIST'S NUMBER.  Yes.  But remember our hero's connection to the number 111?  Well, each row and each diagonal in the Magic Square of the Sun equals....111.  MERLIN!  DAMN YOU, MERLIN!  YOU HAVE MADE ME A POOR MAN!

 

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

1

35

34

3

32

6

111

111

30

8

28

27

11

7

111

111

24

23

15

16

14

19

111

111

13

17

21

22

20

18

111

111

12

26

9

10

29

25

111

111

31

2

4

33

5

36

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

 

Guten Morgen, Morgan Le Faye!  AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO...WHAT?  CONVINCE ME OF HIS DIVINITY?  Are you still not convinced, Doubting Dumas?  What will it take to conviviance you, good sir?  Will you have to put your finger through the holes in his hands?  The wands in his feet?  GOD MAN, ENOUGH OF THIS DRAMA.  YOU'RE SLURRING YOUR WORDS.  GO LIGHT ON THAT LIQUID.  What does all of this magic have to do with the real issue anyway -- helping the poor?  DON'T YOU GET IT MAN!  HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT HELPING THE POOR ANY MORE!  THE POOR WERE TRYING TO KILL HIM!  DON'T YOU GET IT!  That was what happened to the historical Jesus.  He was caught between the revolutionaries on the one hand, those who wanted to overthrow the Roman state.  And between the collaborating priests who perceived him as a revolutionary.  His message was personal peace in God's kingdom.  He condemned the corrupt priesthood; but he did not advocate revolution.  He was like Crossmann -- damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.  The left wing didn't trust him; and the right wing feared him.  WHAT HAS THIS TO DO WITH THE PRICE OF SWINE IN CHINA?  THE RUDE OF ALL EBOL?  If you add all the rows and columns of the numbers 111 in Magic Square of the Sun, diagonals and rows, you come up with the number 888, which is the mystical number of Jesus.

 

 

888

 

 

 

 

 

 

888

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

1

35

34

3

32

6

111

111

30

8

28

27

11

7

111

111

24

23

15

16

14

19

111

111

13

17

21

22

20

18

111

111

12

26

9

10

29

25

111

111

31

2

4

33

5

36

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

111

888

 

 

 

 

 

 

888

 

THIS IS SOME KIND OF MAGIC LANTERN.  Now, he's pretending to be bruised.  WHO IS?  That damned Merlin up there.  MERLIN, JUDGE CALENDAR, WEARING A STUPID RED HAT: 6 TIMES 6 IS 36.  You're not making cents.  IT IS DAMN COLD OUT HERE.  Here, have a drink!  YES.  YES, I WILL.  I got this from the Magician.  WHAT?  Yes, he makes a damn good brew.  AND?  And, if you remove all the numbers from this Magic Square of the Sun, except the diagonals, the symbol of the 'X', the crossing of the four directions, results in 444, one-half of the divine personality of Jesus Christ -- Jesus as a man.

 

444

111

32

34

36

38

40

42

111

444

 

7

1

 

 

 

 

6

7

 

 

19

 

8

 

 

11

 

19

 

 

31

 

 

15

16

 

 

31

 

 

43

 

 

21

22

 

 

43

 

 

55

 

26

 

 

29

 

55

 

 

67

31

 

 

 

 

36

67

 

444

111

32

34

36

38

40

42

111

444

 

IS FULCANELLI IN THE HOUSE?  Amiens. Amienti.  DRAW.  A more literal 'cross', an image of Jesus crucified, results in the same 444, 1/2 of Jesus's historic Greek number, 888.

 

444

 

 

 

 

 

 

444

37

37

40

111

111

34

37

37

37

 

 

34

3

 

 

37

55

 

 

28

27

 

 

55

111

24

23

15

16

14

19

111

111

13

17

21

22

20

18

111

19

 

 

9

10

 

 

19

37

 

 

4

33

 

 

37

37

37

40

111

111

34

37

37

444

 

 

 

 

 

 

444

 

I AM CONFUSED BY ALL THIS.  I THOUGHT WE CAME HERE TO PRAY.  IS THIS PRAYER?  This is a very powerful form of prayer.  WHO IS PRAYING; AND WHO IS BEING PRAYED?  Upon?  OK.  I see that Crossmann and Jesus are both linked to the Sun -- this is a magic cube of the Sun.  And that the anti-Christ, 666, is also linked to the Sun.  But what else does this tell me?  THE INTELLECT CANNOT GO WHERE..?  Yes, where the sold goes.  WHERE THE SPIRIT TRUMBLES.  Spirit and Soul don't separate, do they?  YES, ULTIMATELY THEY DO -- WHEN NIGHT COMES.  Soul is the Egg; and Spirit is the fire inside the Egg, floating on the waters.  I learned that from his book.  MORGAN LE FAYE.  Would you stop with this Morgan La Faye nonsense!  DO THE REST OF YOU HEAR THAT VOICE?  COMING FROM THE SKY?  It's Limner, I think -- throwing his voice.  AND THE LIGHTS?  It must be Aurora Bore the all of us!  THE GREEKS HAD A DIFFERENT SYSTEM FOR DETERMINING GEMATRIA.  THEY ADDED THE LETTERS 1-10 AS SINGLE DIGITS; THEN THEY JUMPED BY DECADES -- 10 NUMERALS; THEN THEY JUMPED BY CENTURIES -- 100 NUMERALS. 

 

A

1

b

2

c

3

d

4

e

5

f

6

g

7

h

8

i

9

j

10

K

20

l

30

m

40

n

50

o

60

p

70

q

80

r

90

s

100

t

200

u

300

v

400

w

500

x

600

y

700

z

800

 

BY THIS FORM OF COMPUTATION, MICHAEL THE ARKANGEL COMPUTES AS 531, WHICH IS A TRANSPOSITION OF THE EARLIER SYSTEM'S 153 FOR THE SAME NAME.  When Jesus appears, after his crucifixion, to his disciples, the fishermen, in his final act in the Book of John, he provides Peter and his disciples with a net full of fish, for a meal they will all share, the last time they will see Jesus.  And Jesus fills the nets of the fishermen with large fish, 153 fish in all.  JESUS PROVIDES HIS DISCIPLES WITH A PICTURE ON HIS NEXT APPEARANCE, NOT AS 'JESUS CHRIST, SON OF GOD, SAVIOUR, BUT AS 153, MICHAEL THE ARKANGEL.  Interesting deduction -- if I  can call it that.  DEED AUCTION.  INTREPID PEDIATRIC.  Made.

 

40

M

9

I

3

C

8

H

1

A

5

E

30

L

200

T

8

H

5

E

1

A

90

R

20

K

1

A

50

N

7

G

5

E

30

L

 

 

513

 

 

OF COURSE, 513 PLUS 153 EQUALS 666, AGAIN THE SIGN OF THE BEAST.  The Beast is the Angel's image; he is the Angel as seen in a mirror.  THE BEAST IS THE ANGEL'S BROTHER THEN?  I believe you half it.  PERHAPS WE ARE ARRIVING ON SOLID GROUND, AT LAST.  'To Mega Therion', in Greek, 'the large beast', bears the gematria numbers in Greek: 300+70; 40+5+3+1; 9+8+100+1+70+50 or 666.  HAS HE NOT MET THIS LARGE BEAST ALREADY, IN HIS BOOK, THIS GILBERT PATTON CHARACTER?  AND DESTROYED HIM?  CHAINING HIM IN THE UNDERWORLD...?  Was not Russia, the Giant Bear, not this beast already?  WAS NOT 351 THE NUMBERS ADDED TOGHETHER FROM 1 TO 26?  Are we becoming lost in all this wind?  Look up, near the moon: white clouds are blowing past.  Does that tell you nothing?  DUST.  EVERYTHING BEGINS IN DUST.  Look, he is bleeding from his lip!  He seems to have a wound on his lip!  LEND ME YOUR STEEL-BEARING HAND.  Is he singing -- is that called singing?  SO I MAY REIGN THE JEWEL THRONE.  MY SOUL FEELS THE GOD'S DEMAND.  AS THE LOST KINGS UPHOLD MY SIDE.  BLOOD AND SAND.  MARK THEIR WAY.  THE USURPER'S TEARS.  GUIDE MY SWORD.  FANTASIA SLEPT IN MY THOUGHTS.  AS I WAS A SON OF INFINITY.  THE EMPEROR,  FORGOTTEN, RESTS IN MY DREAMS.  AS BACK TO THE WALL I START MY CONQUEST.  INNOCENCE AND WRATH NOW LIE FAR BEYOND.  AS WE CROSS THE DESERTS TO REACH THE FORTRESS' GATES.  TRAGIC SERENADES ARE WHISPERED IN THE WIND, AS EYES IN FURY GRANT US OUR STRENGTH.  THEY'RE THRONING ON THE DIGNITY OF MIGHT.  BUT THE SUCCESSOR IS TO ENTER THE HALL.  FALSE TRUTH SAW THEM CLIMBING THE STEPS.  BUT I REMAIN THE JEWEL THRONE'S CHOICE.  He must be dead to sing like that.  LOOK AT THOSE STAINS ON HIS T-SHIRT.  Wavy gravy.  YES.  ALP equals 111.  Anna Livia Plurabelle, Joyce's Mother of the World.  The Hebrew Aleph equals 1 and Lamdah  equals 30 and P equals 80.   111 is, in fact, the ALPHA, the first letter.

 

A

1

L

30

P

80

 

 

 

111

 

I SEE.  SO THIS IS SOMETHING ADDITIONAL ABOUT THAT MATRIARCHY THEN -- STRAIGHT OUT OF THE MOUTH OF THE BLANDCROSSANDBUNMANNSEIZEBEST?  They're going back inside.  Muff and Jett.  APPLE AND COD JELLO.  Tick and Dom.  DOM'S TICK IS HAIRY.  Shut up, you fool!  HAVE ANOTHER DRINK.  Can all of this be by accident?  REMEMBER CROSSMANN'S DISCUSSION OF HIS TRIP TO DEVIL'S TOWER, IN HIS NOVEL?  THE INDIAN'S CALL DEVIL'S TOWER THE 'BEAR'S LAIR'.  And that is appropriate of what?  I DON'T KNOW REALLY -- THE DEVIL'S CONNECTION TO THE BEAR IN MYTH. The Great Bear?  PERHAPS.  Charlie, sometimes you are so damned obscure.  You're like that damned Tom Stoppard.  STOPPARD IS A GREAT PLAYWRIGHT!  Yes.  However, I don't see him out here in the snow, listening to voices, watching out for the brown snow!  IS THAT A SIGN OF HIS GENIUS -- OR HIS LACK OF THE SAME?  I'm tired of these numbers.  So the Jewish numerical system makes of ALP 111; and Joyce makes of ALP the Mother of the World.  And 111 is the Guardian Angel of Michael Crossmann, his true identity.  I just don't get it really.  I really just don't get it.  THERE IS MUCH YOU DON'T GET, JUNIOR.  Damn your arrogance.  WHY WAS THAT FAT JEW SIGNING THAT SONG ANYWAY.  Hey, watch your mouth.  UH, SORRY.  IT WAS THE ALCOHOL DOING THE TALKING.  HE JUST GETS ON MY NERVES.  With Fohat scattering seeds, I just can't help seeing energy turning like a four-dimensional wheel, like a swastika, and the dark elementals being cast out of the city, out of their homes, out of their nation.  The dark clouds being scattered by the wind elementals -- who are angels, sword-bearing angels.   Scattering these seeds to the wind, as Cain was scattered by the wind from God.  WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?  THAT'S WHAT I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  ARE WE GETTING A STORY?  I MEAN, WHAT IF THE COPS DON'T COME -- THEN WHAT?  DO WE SIT HERE ALL NIGHT UNTIL WE GET FROSTBITE AND LOSE A COUPLE OF FINGERS OR A COUPLE OF TOES TO OLD MAN WINTER BLIGHT?  You don't get it, do you?  COME ON, BILL -- YOU BEEN DRINKING THAT MAGIC JUICE ALL NIGHT!  Yes, and I see!  Did you see the miracles that man did tonight?  The girl that he made walk -- was it a boy or a girl that he made walk?  And that idiot freezing himself in the ice.  He touched that ice block and the ice melted.  WE SAW HIM WITH LITTLE OLE ROSEBUD TOO!  He's a man, afterall.  YES, A MAN.  WITH HIS LAST TEMPTATION.  A temptation we all have, if we're honest with ourselves.  YES, YOU, I AND THE ROMAN WE ALL KNOW SO WELL  Polanski could have made the movie -- besides Scorcese, I mean.  GETTING DAFOE TO PLACE CROSSMANN WAS A STROKE OF GENIUS.  And what about De Niro as the Devil, with those long fingernails!  WHAT WAS THAT SONG HE WAS SINGING?  THERE WAS SOMETHING HAUNTING ABOUT IT.  Was that Leonard Cohen too?  NO, I DON'T THINK SO.  What's with Jim and Leonard Cohen?  He's been talking about Leonard Cohen all night.  MAYBE HE WANTS TO CONVERT -- YOU KNOW, LIKE SAMMY DAVIS JUNIOR DID.  You should be home in bed.  You must have a fever.  111 SUGGESTS THAT HE IS ALREADY IN THE NEXT WORLD.  HE IS WAITING FOR THE WORLD TO CATCH UP WITH HIM.  HE IS THE FIRST OF THE NEXT WORLD, FOR 11 IS THE FIRST STAGE OF THE NEXT CREATION.  Waiting for the rest of us to get on the bus.  OR THE TRAIN, WHATEVER IT MAY BE.   He is already in the next world; but he is waiting for us to catch up, to get in to the next world, before he closes the door on this one.  SPECULATIVE NONSENSE.  YOU BURDEN YOURSELF WITH THIS VERSION OF JESUS.  NOTHING TRUE HERE BUT ICE AND DIPLOMACY.  Diplomacy?  YOU WILL SEE IT WHEN THE POLICE COME.  Should we go in -- and get warm.  I DON'T KNOW.  IT SEEMS LIKE AN ACT OF COWARDICE TO GO IN.  You are an old man.  I AM NEVER TOO OLD TO DO MY DUTY.  Aleph is the first-born element; he is an ox; he is the membrum virile.  OX TALKS; MEMBRUM VIRILE SPIRILLAES.  ONE.  Oximoron.  PASSES THE WHORE ON.  Beth.  El.  BETH BUILDS A HOUSE.  The ox is a beast with horns and then a head with horns and then horns alone.  SEMITIC ROSE.  With a flat head-piece that moves in to the horns.  The whole begins to rotate.  OXBLOOD IS SEMENBLOOD.  The ox is a long flask.  ROTATED BY GREEKS.  OCCIDENT RISING.  Who are always rotating things.  ETRUSCAN HORNS: BOTH THE HORN-RINGER AND THE CUCKOLD.  Aye; hay is for horses.  DRAW IT IN THE SNOW.  What do you say?

 

 

                                   

 

 

THE LONG-DICKED THING: WOULD MAKE CATHERINE THE GREAT GRAFT HER KINGDOM ON TO HIS SOLAR PLEXUS.  Archaic blintz.  MINION STEW.  Man alone -- needing a house.  A PLACE TO PUT HIS HORN IN.  Creative God that he is.  INSIDE IT GOES.  Yes.  He says YES to the world, keeping her rotating below.  HOT HONEY BRIDE.  Blinky on the blind side of love.  ESCHATALOGICAL SCHATOLOGY.  Knocking on the walls of the house: oxblood brood in a simmer scenter quinines.  TEAR US SOME STONES DOWN.  PERILOUS BREEEZE.  YOU TAKE LIBERTIES WITH THE BRIDGES.  Enamel begins to come off.  I've been eating too much porridge.  GLAND PORRIDGE.  Under the navel.  BRIDE.  Beth: house-hunter.  FLOORPLAN.  CLOSED.  A HOUSE, A HOME, A SPOUSE FOR THE BONE.  Bury it fast; bury it slow.  Make the children hump and glow.  FOUR OLD MEN.  A clapboard nursing rhyme.  BEWARY OF IT.  WARY OF THE BEDSLIME.  Speaking from experience?  THE EXPERIENCE OF AN OLD MAN WHO HAS SEEN EVERYTHING IN HIS DREAMS.  The house is opened and a door comes in.  TWO.  DOUBLE-SQUARES ARE CURVES TO MAKE THE FEMININE FORM.  Watching his wife walk from behind.  AHH, THE TREASURES OF HOME!  Let the Greeks rotate it.  THE WIFE IN BED, LYING ON HER SIDE.  Taking the cover down; and moving in from behind.  THERE IS A SON IN THEIR SOMEWHERE.   AND A DAUGHTER INSIDE THAT.  See. 

 

 

 

GEE -- I DON"T FOLLOW.  From Aleph and Beth came a herd of children.  Each one broadening and bending the whirld.  GEE -- I DON'T FOLLOW.  Ask the red-beard, Massoud, what the camel can improve.  STRIKE A MATCH -- IMPROVE YOUR LUCK.  A man would walk a thousand and one miles for a good hump in the dark.  A GOOD NIGHT-HUMPER.  AND THEN A NIGHT-TALE TO TELL THE TAIL BY.  Massoud?  THAT ISN'T HIS NAME.  That's his hidden name -- he is in disguise.  I SEE.  Yes.  To see -- requires light.  THAT IS NOT THIS.  Which?  Doctor Gimmelman?  YES, I REMEMBER HIM.  HE WAS THE MAN WHO RAN THE CAMP -- AUSCHWITZ.  Gimmelmann!  NO.  THAT WAS GOMMELMANN.  GIMMELMAN RUNS THE MADHOUSE DOWNTOWN.  No, that is Himmelmann.  THREE.  THE CAMEL HAD A HEAD AND A HUMP.  THEN HE HAD ONLY A HEAD AND A HUMP.  THEN THE HEAD AND THE HUMP CONNECTED LIKE THE NUMBER 7.  THEN THE GREEKS BEGAN TO ROTATE.  Gave the sea also a curve, for the water's element was rounding: the pregnant wife's contusion.  In everything there is a tail.  CONTOUR?  Frontier.  CONSEQUENCE.  Happenstance.  AND THEN THE SEA WAS BUILT, THE THIRD OF THE 26.  THE CAMEL IS NOT ONLY A PLEASANT HUMP, IT IS THE MEANS OF ESCAPING THE HOUSE AND HUMP, THE PREGNANT WIFE'S HUMP, I MEAN, PRIOR TO AHAB'S CONSTABULARY.  The camel leads the binding energy to larger environs.  LIGHTING A CIGARETTE.  I'd like to give these damn things up.  WHAT'S NEXT?  The door in and the door out -- coming and going.  AHH, FREEDOM THEN.  Going out in to the world; coming back in to the womb.  THE WIFE'S TETHER THEN?  TO POPULATE THE TOWN?  Is there a story in everything?  SOME KIND OF ORDER, YES, VOUCHSAFED BY LIFE.  A typological tempesto?  IN A WORD OR TWO.  Call us Castle Nada.  HAWK.

 

 

                       

 

The door was a straw hat on its side; then turned by some strange Phoenician who desired a new fashion.  Then someone believed in was a fish head because it smelled like chicken even if it tasted like fish.  MINI PEARL, VERY SMALL, WHITE, A FOG: GOD'S PERFECTION.  A straw hat with a price tag still on it turned on its end -- a woman bending over in a short skirt trying to pick up something off the ground.  MANY PEARLS, A NECKLACE BROKEN.  A fish head becoming a fish face, a porous delta, running off to the west.  Then a vertical line put in: a woman's delta.  Then the woman's delta closed; and the Greeks began to rotate and make it round like a woman's breast.  The Etruscan's all face to the left; so the Romans rotate it twice, making it right-handed.  A RIGHT-HANDED BREAST, FORMERLY A CUNT.  Or a Dunt.  FOUR.  A vulva.  YES.  I don't like the word cunt.  It is too....rude.  Too descriptive.  Vulva seems more sacred -- less glandular.  Less aromatic.  YOU'RE AMONG MEN HERE.  Except for the old Russian.  HAVE YOU CHECKED UNDER HER SKIRT?  I HAVE MY DOUBTS ABOUT HERE.  Cadmus has an alphabet of teeth.  A SNAKE, ALIVE WITH THE CAVITY OF TEETH.  A vunt with teeth!  A vunt with teeth!  WHICH, WHEN PLANTED, BECOME SEE VALLEY SATIATION.  Dal is thin; and dillel is diminish; dala is curl and dola is remove; dalit is issue and dalal is impoverish; and dildel is to detach.  DILDO MEANS, ALSO, TO DETACH -- IN THE LONG RUN.  You would joke about such a thing!  DI-DI IS TO FLEE.  TO FLEE THE HOUSE.  IMPOVERISHMENT COMES WHEN THE CHILD DETACHES HIMSELF FROM THE PARENTS, FROM ALEPH AND BETH, BECOMING INDEPENDENT; GOING OUT ON HIS OWN.  Death.  DELIVERANCE.  Dromedary convenience.  A SMOKE -- I NEED A SMOKE.  Circulation; poor; descent. 

 

     

 

BREATH; AND A MAN AT PRAYER.  Emphysema, seniorita.  HOLY DUST; HOLY SMOKE; DEAR KATE WINSLETT.  Breasts: and a Man on a Dare.  BE PREPARED.  A Trojan Horse.  OF COURSE.  OF COURSE.  A horse is a horse of course of course; unless the horse, of course of course, is the famous Mister Ed.  WHY DOES A MAN BREATHE AND PRAY?  Because he fears death.  PLEASE PUT THAT IN THE FORM OF A QUESTION.  What is: because he fears death?  YES.  WHAT ELSE?  What is: to escape poverty?  WHAT ELSE?  What is: to escape loneliness.  WHAT ELSE?  What is: to escape Daleth?  DALLAS?  Daleth -- the Jewish back door.  I SEE.  THE MAN IS STANDING WITH A HEAD AND WITH HIS ARMS RAISED TO HEAVEN.  BUT THEN, BECAUSE HE IS IN PRAYER, HIS LOWER HALF DISAPPEARS.  HE IS A ROUND HEAD WITH TWO ARMS RAISED TO HEAVEN.  THEN THE HEAD LOSES ITS OVAL SHAPE.  THE HEAD IS LIKE A CENTRAL ARM RAISED UP; THREE ARMS RAISED UP, LIKE A FORK.  WITH NO TRUNK.  THE MAN IS SPIRITUALLY HUNGRY.  The Phoenicians rotate him one turn to the left, toward the setting sun.  Back and forth; back and forth.    THEN BOUSTROPHEDON, TURNING THIS WAY AND THAT, ROTATED THE LENS BACK TOWARD THE EAST, BACK TOWARD THE RISING SUN, A RIGHT-HANDED HE.  THEN AGAIN, WE HAD OUR HE, BREATHING AND PRAYING, BACK AND FORTH, LIKE AN ALL-CONSUMING IMAM.  The future is not ours to see.  K SERAF SERAF.  Evolution, Education, Edification, Examination, Exultaton.  THE EYES HAVE IT.  Light coming in again.  THE UPSTRETCHED ARMS OF THE MAN IN PRAYER, BESEECHING DEITY, ROTATES DOWN, TO THE EAST.  THE MAN IN PRAYER NOW SEEKS DEITY IN HIS FELLOW MEN, THOSE HE MEETS ON THE STREET, SEEKING TO BRING HEAVEN DOWN TO THE EARTH, BY THE PRAYER'S CAPACITY FOR LOVE.  Draw it in the snow!  FIVE HIVES!  Yes.

 

                                   

 

EUREKA!  The prayer dances to the Sun.  He bends down to kiss the ground.  He is beheaded; and he becomes a tree.  The tree is forced to perceive itself in a mirror.  EXCELLENT ENTROPY!  Ecstatic entropy!  EQUEVA-NAY.  He prays for a wife.  For God to send him a wife.  He kisses the ground when God sends him a wife.  You know the rest of the story.  A VOID TO FILL HIS OWN VOID.  A space being the color of...Eugenetics.  Energy engraved on the equalitarian episcopalian.  LESLIE RHODES.  Easy to eppreciate.  GINNUNGAGAP.  The womb's feathery inversion.  ANTI-MATTER'S RELIQUERY INTERMEDIARY VERSION.  Ezekiel, informing his square.  TO BLEED.  Or breathe.  OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN.  HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD.  Mother of God?  Mother of God the Son or God the Father?  HERESY'S CANDLE.  Why do you ask?  WHERE DO YOU PUT IT?  When?  THE BORN FATHER AND THE UNBORN FATHER'S WILL.  Especial energy encircling the eel, escaping every element but Energy's Egg.  DUD.  Egg-Dud.  EASTER.  Epitome.  EXCELSIUS DEI.  The man breathes but loses his breath.  EMPHYSEMA.  Turning into woman.  THE FAT GOLDEN CALF ENGAPPED.  Yet something is missing.  I'LL SHAME US IF YOU INSIST.  Common lush.  THE ALPHABET IS TO PPHYSICAL NATURE WHAT LETTERS ARE TO...?  What is: the table of elements?  WHAT?  I NEED MORE.  What is the table of chemical elements?  MENDALAYEV'S MERRY MARKERS.  We're not there yet.  Not to death's door yet.  EXACTLY.  Lothar Meyer take us higher.  Take us lower to'ard the sewer.  THE SOWER, YOU SAY?  OR THE SUER?  Or sulfur?  PLEASE!  What is: Boron?  INCIPIENT SIGN OF THE BOX IS: B.  We have been there?  AND WILL BEE AGAIN.  Five has hives.  BORON IS A METALLOID CHEMICAL ELEMENT WITH PROPERTIES INTERMEDIATE BETWEEN THOSE OF CARBON AND ALUMINUM.  IT'S CHEMICAL SYMBOL IS B; ITS ATOMIC NUMBER IS 5; AND ITS ATOMIC WEIGHT IS 10.811.  Thank you, Mister Wizard.  CAPABLE OF MANY THINGS.  Including burning your nose hairs with sulfur.  MERCURY, SULFUR AND SALT.  MERCURY SULFUR AND SALT.  What is: Midnight Cowboy?  WHO ARE: JENNIFER AND WALDO?  What you can't find in a forest of Waldos?  FAT GOLDEN GAP OF CALIF. Arabic 8.  INSINUATIONS OF A BRUNE QUIM.  Doctor, doctor, doctor.  My eyes have seen the years.  Of the slow parade of tears.  Without hiding.  I will wake unto your dream.  A BROKEN MUFF.  If you see Kaye, please tell her for me that her country grows inside of me.  I will give it' her for free.  PARALYSIS OF WILL.  Forget frequently fine feminine freedoms.  Friskie feline fates feel fatuous first; and friendly fatally.  ADDITION AND REDUCTION.  THAT IS ALL THERE IS.  NOTHING MORE.  Uck Fe E May; Ail Nay E May.  MIUQ SPICKS; MAIGUEY TRICKS.  The spatula spondula?  THE CLICK, THE CLICK; THE MATADOR'S PRICKED.  Hook and nail; look and hail; book and fail; cook and jail.  BROOK AND BAIL; FOOK AND FORGERY-FLATTERED FEMALE.  Spicking of which.  MERCURY, SULFUR AND SALT.  MERCURY SULFUR AND SALT.  Who is: a Greek actress with the first name of Merlina?  YOD HE VAV HE.  YOD HE VAV HE.  FOUR IN ONE; ONE IN FOUR.  Spicking of which.  MERCURY, SULFUR AND SALT.  MERCURY SULFUR AND SALT.  What are: the elements of Fire, Water and Earth?  What are: the elements of Heaven, Earth and Hell?  What is: the young girl prior to puberty?  EFFERVESCENT.  Effulgence.  EFFUSERY.  Not to be comfused with usery.  EFFISCERATED.  Wrong letter!  EFFICACIOUS.  Some comeday morm.  EFFEMINATE.  Gladly so.  EFFULGENCE.  Most delightedly.  EFFLUENT EFFLUVEUM.  I believe that was Ginsberg.  I head something too.  EFFIGY.  A vision of something.  Someone hanging.  Don't talk about it!  I don't want to see it!  DANK.  DREARY.  DREAMY.  Salt in the wound.  Mercurial emancipation of the mind.  FURLUS.  Yes: white delta.  FURLESS.  Ahh!  FRUIT OF FRUITS.  God's gift of Eve.  SPELLED THE SAME IN BOTH DIRECTIONS.  Ahh!  THE FIGURE EIGHT.  Don't start with me!  ROSEBUD ROSEBLISTER!  Magnificat magnum.  Vagnificat vagnum.  A HOLE IN THE GROUND.  Everything is free.  HOOKER AND NAIL.  Hook, line and stinker.  JEWISH SCHOLAR.  Passing Vind.  HOOKER AND NAIL.  Look at his hands: did you see the scars!  WHAT?  Scars -- where the nails had been?  I SAW NOTHING.  I SAW SEVERAL WOUNDS NEAR HIS LIPS, UNDER HIS BEARD -- AS IF HE BIT INTO A ROSE BUSH.  Roseblister rosebuster.  ROSEYCROSS ROSEYCANKER.  Felix Felicity Frequently Flexes her love muscle.  PUTTING HIS MOUTH WHERE HE SHOULD HAVE PUT HIS MONEY.  Penny whistle; penny wharf.  EFFICACIOUS.  EFFICIENT.  Phantasm.  FEONIX.  FEONIX FUTURITY; FEONIX OBSCURITY.  Sex comes before Seven.  BEGINNING AS THE V.  WE ALL SURELY KNOW WHAT THE V IS.  Vulva mate; Vulva marker.  HOOK AND NAIL: USED TO MARRY TWO SEPARATE ELEMENTS TOGETHER.  Vulva becomes Fulva.  You know how the Greeks are.  Always turning things on their end.  VENIS BECAME FENIX.  Very Friendly became Fairly Reverendly.  FAIRLY REVERENDLY BECOMES FAIRLY REVERED END O' LILY.  I see.  The flower again.  The flower and the B.  THE SON SEES.  THE FATHER HEARS.  What?  VAV SEES; YOD HEARS.  Transcriptions of light?  MAYHAPS IT IS TRUE.  Divine Light Pours Down Its Channel.  THE CHANNEL IT PREPARES.  It scores.  DIGGING IN MATTER A BED OF CLATTER.  And sound.  ITS PRIMARY NATURE.  Conditions it Frequents For Fatherhood.  FREQUENCIES IT FALLUSITATES FOR ITS VATERHOOD.  Pious lamb.  PRECIOUS PIOUS MATTERHEAD OF VAV.  Doctorate of Time.  LIGHT, YOU MEAN!  Light is Time, you mean?  PIOUS PRECONDITION.  Ponds.  Ponds Veritus.  FREQUENTER OF FELLICITATIONS.  Vater Muter Hans Gretel.  FATHER MOTHER SON RESTRICTED FRUIT.  Otter's Date.  DIE TALKTER'S FATE.  Atom atomizer atomist atomsphere.  AHH, JOYCE'S CLOUD.  JOYCE'S RAINWATER.  Reignvater.  UCKER FE CELLANT EXER FE.  Iron.  Iron's Anagram.  IRON NAILS RUN OVER.  RUN ON.  LIKE WATER.  Arbon Kaye.  EYEMAN DAY; OLE KAYE.  AYEMAN DEI; STINKHOLE.  Lifting his leg.  THE POET OF FURZ.  Furlless Fakir.  Schwartzweiss.  Weisschwartz.  By turns.  High and Low.  JEWISH NATURE.   They have given us this alphabet.  LOOK AT HIM NOW, PICKING HIS NOSE!   Look the other way!  I HOPE HE DOESN'T START SINGING AGAIN!  Howling is more like it!   CONSTABLE OF CONSTIPATION!  Quick, write it in the snow!

 

 

I DON"T GET IT!  WHAT DOES IT MEAN?  Inversion of Time.  WHAT?  Sectuality.  OH, I SEE.  Ask old Marcus Verrius Flaccus over there.  WHICH ONE IS HE?  It's old warts and pox.  PLEASE.  Is it the cold that makes you so unpleasant and querulous?  A mean spirit impresses no one.  TAKE ANOTHER DRINK, BOSCO.  SOOTHE YOUR NERVES A BIT.  UNCONSCIOUS IS THE BEST PATH, ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS.  When anything can happen.  YOU SEE WHAT HE IS TRYING TO DO, DON"T YOU?  HE'S TRYING TO SUGGEST THAT THE BUILDING BLOCKS OF MATTER, THE CHEMICAL ELEMENTS, ARE AKING TO THE LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET.  Why would he do that?  What does it do for him?  I DON'T KNOW.  THAT'S WHAT I'D LIKE TO FIND OUT.  It's simple: he wants to demonstrate the mystical powers inherent in numbers and letters.  SCHEISS.  HE TAKES US FOR.  Wait.  She's looking at us again, like she's going to ball us out.  Hold your tongue!  SHE'S GOING TO TALK ABOUT CARBON-DATING.  No, she's spiritual.  She doesn't talk about the sins of the flesh.  ALL-EVEN, ALL-EVEN, ALL-EVEN.  The Mother's Merry Weighting of Souls.  ALL-OVEN, ALL-OVEN, ALL-OVEN, SHE STAYS.  Home-maker, home and purpose taker.  MOTHER OF THE DARK VEST, THE SHAWL.  The Daughter is the lover; the mother is the protector.  A SYRINGE IN YOUR ARM.  COUNTING NAILS.  The Four Men, the Pillars, leaving when she says it.  SAYS WHAT?  A syringe in your arm.  COUNTENANCING SAILS.  The Vav is, first, the oar which powers the ship away from the home.  AWAY FROM THE MOTHER-DAUGHTER.  She's my daughter; she's my sister.  LINKING TWO SIDES OF THE SHORE, TWO OPPOSING WORLDS.  Stands between this and that.  KISS AND SHAT.  Piss and Philatelate.  CRISS-CROSS AND PERAMBULATE.  PHILALETHES.  List and Discombobulate.  LOOK AT YOUR WATCH!  Wait!  I've lost my watch!  DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT.  WHAT HAS TIME TO DO WITH THIS?  Who were the Phoenicians, anyway?  DAMN CANAANITES!  THE GODDESS OR THE ALPHABET?  THE MATRIARCHY OR THE LETTERED PATRIARCHY?  THAT WAS THE CHOICE!  And the Jews gave us the Patriarchy!  They gave us the cock, the rooster I mean!  The cock that crows in the morning, singaling himself to be a rooster, a form of Dawn God!  COCK IS COCK.  THE UPSTANING ONE.  Pushing up the tent of the sky at the Four Corners.  SYMBOLISM!  WHAT IS THIS, SOME KIND OF DREAM?  Ask him -- the one who is dreaming.  STANDING BETWEEN GOD AND MAN!  Wawwu!   WHAT?  This one?  SURELY.  WHO ELSE COULD IT BE?  You are a believer then?  YES.  I AM COMING TO BE ONE.  Mesmer Krezmer.  RAZMATAZ.  Listen to this: there is a time component to this letter VAV -- which, by the way, is also spelled the same way backward or forward.  So, with Time.  Place VAV in front of a verb in the past tense, and it converts the verb to a future tense.  Place VAV before a verb in the future tense and it converts it to a verb in the past tense.  IT HAS SOME KIND OF MAGICAL POTENCY.  It is the same function as the angel standing between the universe and the anti-universe.  The one who converts the black into white; and also the white into black.  The Future into Past; and the Past into Future.  I AM LOST.  I DON"T GET THIS.  Charlie, you must listen carefully.  VAV IS AN ARTICLE OF CONNECTION, LIKE AND IN ENGLISH.  Gramatically, VAV is third person masculine.  A LINGUISTIC TRANSLATION OF THE MALE SEX ORGAN, THE PHALLIC SYMBOL.  THE CLUB; THE MACE.  The article of connection between the masculine and the feminine: this is the generator of Life.  QUICK, DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!

 

                       

 

The tetragrammaton -- IHVH -- is referred to the Sephiroth, thus: the uppermost point of the letter YOD, I, is said to refer to Kether; the letter I, itself, to Chochmah, the Father of the Microposopos; the letter H, the supernal HE, to Binah, the Supernal Mother; the letter V, VAV, to the next six Sephiroth, who are called the Six Members of Microporosopos (and the number six is the numerical value of V, VAV); lastly, the letter H, the inferior HE, to Malkuth, the tenth Sephira, the Bride of Microprosopos.  THAT IS THE FAMOUS SWORD IN THE STONE -- AND, AS WELL, THE CONFIGURATION OF THE AMIENS CATHEDRAL.  Draw it in the snow!

 

                                   

ONE IS KETHER; 2 IS CHOCHMAH; 3 IS BINAH.  4-9 IS VAV.  10 IS MALKUTH, THE KINGDOM; THE BRIDE WHO GIVES LIFE AGAIN TO MICROPROSOPOS.  THE FINAL HE.  Do I discern a sword penetrating a stone?  That is, penetrating a box, a rectangle?  A ROSEBUD, YOU MEAN?  Well, that is your description.  THE NUMBER 6 REFERS TO TIPHERETH, BEAUTY -- WHICH IS GOVERNED BY MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL.  We have been instructed that I (YOD) is the 10th letter in Hebrew, and H (HE) is the 5th, and V (VAV) is the 6th; and that IHVH (YOD HE VAV HE) the unprounounceable name of Tetragrammaton equals, numerically, 26.  It is also of note, in the English Gematria, that both MJC and the world GOD also equal 26.

 

7

G

13

M

15

O

10

J

4

D

3

C

 

 

 

 

26

 

26

 

 

YOU WILL NOTICE ALSO THAT THE NUMBERS OF THE MIDDLE PILLARS OF THE SWORD IN THE STONE -- 1, 6, AND 9 -- EQUAL THE NUMBER 16.  AND, WHEN ADDED TO THE IMPLIED 10, ALSO IN THE MIDDLE PILLAR, THE WIFE OR BRIDE, THE KINGDOM, THE ENTIRE SUM OF THE MIDDLE PILLARS EQUALS THE NUMBER 26.  You are calculating your dreams, Herr Young.  WORDS ONLY.  What?  NUMBERS ONLY.  I beg your pardon.  Words only!  Numbers only!  TELL HIM ABOUT THE TRIPARTITE PERMUTATIONS OF THE NUMBER 37.  HURRY -- WRITE IT IN THE SNOW!

 

           1 + 1 + 1 = 3, 3 x 37 = 111                                              

           2 + 2 + 2 = 6, 6 x 37 = 222                                              

           3 + 3 + 3 = 9, 9 x 37 = 333                                              

          4 + 4 + 4 = 12, 12 x 37 = 444                                            

          5 + 5 + 5 = 15, 15 x 37 = 555                                            

          6 + 6 + 6 = 18, 18 x 37 = 666                                            

          7 + 7 + 7 = 21, 21 x 37 = 777                                            

          8 + 8 + 8 = 24, 24 x 37 = 888                                            

          9 + 9 + 9 = 27, 27 x 37 = 999                                            

         10 + 10 + 10 = 30, 30 X 37 = 1110  

 

There is that number again.  That number sequence.  THE NUMBER 111 IS, AGAIN, BOTH THE BEGINNING AND THE END.  Both the Kether and the Malkuth -- 1 plus 10 is 11.  Kether is both 1 and 11.  THIS IS ALL RATHER DISTURBING.  You will remember also that in Latin, the initials of MJC equals 1101.  The Romans did not have a letter 'J' but had a letter 'I' in place of this 'J'.  Dropping the zero in each of the quotients, we return again to 111.

 

1000

M

1

(J) I

100

C

 

 

1101

 

 

 

WHEN WE ADD THE MIDDLE PILLARS AGAIN, 1 AND 6 AND 9 AND 10, A SUM OF 26; AND WE ADD TO THIS THE NEXT MANIFESTATION PASSING THROUGH THE 10, THE BRIDE -- WHICH IS THE NUMBER 11, AGAIN WE ARRIVE AT THE NUMBER 37.  What has this to do with the letter F?  QUICK, DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!  Not now!  She's looking over here again!  Shh!  THE NUMBER 37 IS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 3 6 9.  Yes.  37 IS 26 PLUS 11.  Yes.  IN HEBREW GEMATRIA, THE DIVINE NAME YECHIDAH (YChYDH) MEANS UNITY -- AND IS, NUMERICALLY, 37.  YECHIDAH EXPRESSES THE INNER SELF; AND THIS IS A TITLE FOR THE FIRST SEPHIRA OR NUMBER OF THE TREE OF LIFE, KETHER, FROM WHICH THE OTHER SEPHIROTH OR NUMBERS EMANATE.  Does this designate a path on this Tree then?  DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!

 

                                               

 

Let's stick with what we know!  ARE YOU NOT MOVED IN THE LEAST BY THIS?  By what?  By this artifice?  LOOK!  DID YOU SEE THAT?  What?  HOW HE CHANGED FORM AGAIN!  Who?  GINSBERG!  HE BECAME THAT BOY FROM THE ART MUSEUM!  Which boy?  WHEN HE SPOKE ABOUT GEMATRIA, THAT WASN'T GINSBERG, IT WAS THAT OTHER MAN, THAT BOY REALLY!  Which boy?  I DON'T KNOW HIS NAME.  3 inner, hidden Sephira; and 7 outer, manifest Sephira.  This make the complete number, 10.  THE 3 SEPARATED BY THE ABYSS FROM THE 7.  Make me like you that sees light and darkness alike.  WASN'T HIS NAME MOSES SOMETHING?  37 is 111 divided by 3.  STOP WITH THIS NUMBER NONSENSE!  WE ARE RATIONAL MEN!  There's that light in the sky again!  37 IChIDH.  THE HIGHEST PRINCIPLE OF THE SOUL, ATTRIBUTED TO KETHER.  111 (37 X 3) IS, IN ITS SYMBOLISM, AN EXPLANATION OF ALEPH -- THIS IS A COMMENT THAT UNITY MAY BE FOUND IN THICK DARKNESS AND IN SUDDEN DEATH.  See!  Did you see that!  Ginsberg's face changed!  IT'S THE LIGHT, MAN.  YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING.  Didn't you see it?  THERE'S THAT LIGHT IN THE SKY AGAIN.  Moses again!  Isn't his named Moses?  DURING THE DARK MONTHS WE ARE POOR BUT WE LEARN MUCH ABOUT GOD AND LIFE.  DURING THE LIGHT MONTHS WE ARE RICH BUT WE LEARN LITTLE ABOUT GOD AND ABOUT DEATH.  111 divided by 3 is 37; 3 divided by 111 is .027027027027027 ad infinitum.  1 divided by .027027027027207 is 37.  So, there is some inverse connection between the numbers 37 and 27 (3 to the 3rd power).  WE ARE DIGGING A HOLE IN OUR UNDERSTANDING, I BELIEVE.  Using the second method of English Gematria, the one which converts letters into single units first, then into tens, and then into hundreds, equates numerically the words 'eleven' and 'love'.

 

30

L

60

O

400

V

5

E

 

 

495

 

 

 

5

E

30

L

5

E

400

V

5

E

50

N

 

 

495

 

 

DRAMATICUS MUNDI.  Assimilating tripe.  YOU DO NOT SEE THE LIGHT?  In the sky, you mean?  AND HEAR THE VOICE?  AND SEE THE MAN CHANGE FROM GINSBERG TO MOSES O'LEARY?  I see it.  I am tired.  I have been trinking this soup.  DO YOU NOT HEAR THE MAN SPEAKING TO YOU?  Which man?  THE MAN INSIDE OF CROSSMANN.  No, I do not.  LISTEN DEEPLY MAN!  LISTEN!  I am listening deeply.  I heart only the farts of Moses antithesis.  LISTEN AGAIN.  Mad Hatter!  Redhat Mad Hatter!  REDMADHAT IN REDMANHATTAN. REMBRANDT --A SERPENT -- THOMAS IN GRIEF!  Harken the eipistle: the one who speaks is spoken and hears, as one.  GEEZ, GOD IS A GIANT GOLIATH OF GRACE.  Is that Crossmann's wife, licking the stickier surface of: a stamp?  Sending a letter?  Sitting beside a man in a bed, all white, contrite, tight and frightened?  NEVER TO SEE HIM AGAIN.  ENDING IT ALL, FINALLY.  You see the wrong thing.  WHO IS TO SAY?  Where do you see it?  LOOK AT THE LIGHT AROUND HIS HEAD!  Gracias, Garcia!  Guards gain the great good comfort; guarding the gift of the border gains girls.  PEARLS AND PEARS; THE AVACADO AND THE UNBLEMISHED CLAM.  Hairy shell.  SEAFOOD GIRLS, GIVING IT AWAY TO GIANT GUARDIANS.  What is our Thought God drawing in the snow?

 

 

                       

GEEZ.  IT LOOKS LIKE SOME KIND OF RIDDLE.  What looks like the number 7 and the mirrior image of the number 7 mounted on each other and brought into confrontation at the navel?  AT THE NAVAL OR AT THE GROIN?  I know what I said.  WHAT IS: THE LETTER Z?  Zayin.  MOSES DE LEON.  Zed.  The last leading to the first.  BUT IT WAS NOT THE LAST.  Heaven sent.  ZAYIN IMPLIES WAR: FACE-TO-FACE CONFRONTATION.  But the Greeks did not like the Z.  NO, THAT IS NOT TRUE.  THE GREEKS HAD ZETA.  IT WAS THE ROMANS WHO REJECTED THE Z, FOR THEY HAD NO 'Z' SOUND IN THEIR LANGUAGE.  SO THEY SUBSTITUTED THE 'G' FOR THE 'Z' SOUND.  THEY LATER RESURRECTED THE 'Z' TO DO TRADE WITH THE GREEK ZETA -- BUT THEY CAST THE RE-BORN 'Z' TO THE END OF THEIR ALEPH-BETH.  Talk to the Censor Caecus about this -- it was not my decision.  CAECUS GRAECUS.  GRAECUS BREAKUS.  Mozambique.  Robert Mugambe.  MUZAMBE.  MOGAMBIQUE.  Querulous Draco.  TAKE US TO SEA.  The 'G', of course, in form, was born as an exaggeration of the sea.  BY THE ADDITION OF A CANE.  G-G-G-Gamel.  THERE IS A WAR BEING WAGED.  THE ARROW.  THE TWO PARALLEL LINES.  Zero.  MOSTEL.  Grainy impeccability of your cents for humor.  C-NOTE.  G-Men.  GOD'S GRAINERY.  Impeccable gift of gab bags the foot of the fig.  GAG ME WITH A SPOON.  I'm shocked by this zicainery.  MOETUS MOISTEST.  War, revolution, chaos, come hither.  HEILZIG!  Gaff of Gegen.  SWORD, WEAPON, SPECIES, GENDER, TO SUSTAIN.  Zainy impeccable Lord of the Sickle.  SEX WAR; GENDER WAR.  IS THAT WHAT IS MEANT BY 'THE END'?  Zelig.  ZELIGFIELD'S FOLLIES.  The long leg.  BARE LEG.  The girls letting go of their morals -- letting down their guards.  GARGANTUAN GILROY.  Was hair.  LET THEM KICK.  I WILL JUST WATCH THEM.  ZELIGFIELD'S MOLLIES.  Zollie's McGuires.  MAGGIE'S BLOOMERS SHOWING AS SHE GICKS.  Greeks stand at attention.  THAT'S WHAT MAKES THE WORLD GO 'ROUND.  Moon Mumbler.  CROON GRUMBLER.  Koon Fumbler.  SOON CRUMBLE HER.  Ahh, Mariah is ripe.  THE CAST OF THOUSANDS.  Give me hair down to there.  HEY.  Shoulder length and longer.  HEY.  Here, mama, there, daddy, everywhere, daddy, daddy.  HAIR.  Grow it.  SHOW IT.  Long as I can grow it.  MY HAIR.  Hair in the Valley of the Stumbler.  STUTTER IF YOU ARE GUILTY.  Guilt Kilt Me Down To The Marrow Bone.  GUARDIAN GABRIEL, YOU ARE NOT THE ONE.  Seven Seven Seven.  IS TWENTY-ONE.  Black Jack.  IS TWENTY-ONE.  The Nail binds; the Mail sunders.  THE SWORD SAILS ME UNDER.  Blimey stone.  NO LONGER THIS AND THAT.  NOW MERELY THIS.  OR THAT.  Looking for the nail again.  YARICK, YARICK, WHERE IS AZIZ?  Pleased to meet you, surely.  GONE WITH THE GIN.  A man in a mustache; a woman in a hidden beard.  GIRLS WILL BE GIRLY, AFTERALL.  THAT'S WHY WE GET THEM.  One time each month.  WATCH THE MOON.  WATCH OUT FOR THE BLOODY MOON.  Idi Amen Again.  HOLD HIGH THE HIDE HAMMERER.  Achey Breakey Heart Heart Heart.  SUSTENANCE IS NEXT TO....MANNEH, MANNA, MANNASEH.  Molach MOLACH Molach.  GINSBERG GINSBERG GINSBERG.  GODLINESS.  Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4. A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece ofmental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination -- ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane.  PROOF THAT GOD IS NOT LIVING!  Gegen zegen.  THAT IS NOT A POEM.  THAT IS ANOTHER ONE OF HIS WIND METRES, ANOTHER ONE OF HIS GAS GIGABITES FOR WHICH HE HAS BECOME GREATLY GLORIFIED BY THE GEEK GENERATION.  Put a Fence around the Field.  Find a way to keep him out.  THE OLD WARRIOR GOUT HAS GIVEN HIS JOINTS A GAFFER.   Geezus G. Ghrist.  Has that man bathed in a month!  THAT'S A GHOST GUST, A SPECTRE HALOGROCHUS TOKUS.  Philosopher's stone is hidden in a mass of rotting flesh.  GRACCHUS DON'T MOCK US.  GRINGOS; GREAT AT BINGO.  GOSH B'GOSH: TOSS US A GRIPPER.  KEEP US ALIVE: KEEP US OUT OF THE GOG FIRE.  Cheth.  Cheth Breath.  Cheth Breath, Death be Kepth Thot.  IS YOUR TONGUE FREEZING?  GET YOUR FINGER OUT OF THE SNOW!  YOU CAN LOST IT THAT GIDGET TO FROSTBITE, YOU KNOW!  Greatttttthhhhhh.  H JESUS CHRIST!  HEAVEN WON'T TAKE A FINGER BY ITSELF, YOU KNOW!  Graphomaniac.  HE SAYS HE WANTS HIS SPACE!  SEE HOW HE'S OFF THERE TO THE SIDE, SPEAKING WITH MERLIN AND HIS BROTHER AND THE OLD RUSSIAN CROW!  What are you saying?  HE DOES NOT TRUST US LIKE HE TRUSTS THEM!  How could he?  He doesn't know us.  IF HE IS THE REAL H CHRIST JESUS RETURNED, THEN HE WOULD KNOW OUR HEARTS, WOULD HE NOT?  I believe he does know our hearts -- that's why he is moving away.  OH, SO WE ARE NOT FAITHFUL -- IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE SAYING?  We cannot give up our fishing nets to follow him?  AND WHO COULD?  WHO WOULD?  Only the desperate, the lonely, the despised.  Fish at the bottom of the barrel.  IS HE CONSPIRING WITH THEM?  AGAINST US?  Listen!  You can hear them!  IF GOD DIDN"T MAKE THE LITTLE GREEN APPLES.  Put a gag in it, Goldsborough!  We aren't groom crooners here.  Don't let your memories drip out here like goo from a parson's primer.  LISTEN!  THEY ARE SPEAKING!  Zeta Zeta, one more zissusthrus!  LISTEN!  Gnostic Gospels, who wrote the Gospels?  GOEBBELS, GOERRING, WHO SMOTE THE GOETHE?  Listen!  FOHAT IS: androgynous energy; Ares of Paracelsus; asleep and awake; Aurora Borealis; awakener of primordial matter; the guide of axial changes of Earth; bridge between spirit and matter; the breath; he who brings the ray into union with the soul; circular motion; cosmic electricity; cosmic energy; differentiated light; divine love -- number 11; Eros; double triangle; emanation of powers behind the veil; the guide of evolution; the fiery whirlwind; force accompanying ideation; the fourth son; the force of genesis; guided by universal intelligence; guardian of a star's death and re-birth; hardener of atoms; the hissing serpent; impressor of thought on substance; instrument of the Logos; key to understanding symbols and allegories; life-electricity; life of action; Light of the Logos; the propeller of the Lords; male and female; manifested and unmanifested; imminent in all the worlds; not a personal god; objectivizer of the seven energy centers; son of Pramati; prana; male energy; producer of the seven laya-centers; rich with dhyannic-chohanic/angelic thought; he who runs the errands of the Manus; he who separates and places sparks; he who separates matter into atoms; he who sets the nebulae in motion; he who sets the world germs into motion; sevenfold; brother of the seven sons; shapers of atoms from crude material; solar energy; the steed on whom Thought rides; the swastika emblem; the synthesis of nature's forces; the Spark and the thread of the Spark; he who takes strides of Three and Five; he who turns the seed, the curds, into the opposite direction; the vehicle of the Primordial Seven.  THE OLD RUSSIAN WOMAN'S VOICE.  Where does it come from?  WE DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING.   I wish you had said this much earlier.  MATTER SPIRITUALIZES; SPIRIT MATERIALIZES.  The inner comes out; and the outer comes in.  IRON INTO GOLD; AND GOLD INTO IRON.  Sort of.  Sort of.  THOTH RIDES.  And Goth riddles.  I'M NO ROI, INDEED.  I'm no Regin Incarnate.  I'M NEUTRAL, REALLY; IAM.  Is Naturalism Really Intoxicating?  IPSO NIPSO REGAL IGAL.  Lotus Flower, Lotus Flower, build a fence; establish power.  LOTUS FLOWER, LOTUS FLOW, LEAP THE FENCE; SURPASS THE HOUR.  What has this to do with the Present?  A MAN TRAPPED IN THE PRESENT IS A MAN TRAPPED IN SOME CATASTROPHE WHICH DOES NOT RECOGNIZE THE FUTURE.  I see.  GENDER, GENDER, GENDER.

 

                                   

 

HATE IS A POWERFUL FELLOW, FRIEND.  Aitch.  HYDROGEN-HELIUM.  Aitch.  HYDROGEN-MEDIUM.  Hevolution of spirit is Hinvolution of matter.  Hevolution of matter is Hinvolution of spirit.  HAY COBB'S LADDER -- YES, WE SEE THAT.  Hiccup.  Hiccup.  AITCH.  A LESSER GROWLING.  A wall; an obstactle; a ladder.  LATTER'S DAY SAINTS.  Max X Colm.  BARS ON YOUR WINDOW, GIVING PRESAGE, PERHAPS, OF THE DESTINY OF THOU, MAKER OF MIRACLES.  Het.  Het.  HET IS A POWERFUL FRIEND, FELLOW.  Het is 'sin' in Hebrew.  H IS AN EVIL PRESENCE.  Therefore shall hevil come upon thee; That shalt not know whence it riseth; and Mischief shall fall upon thee, Thou shalt not be able to put it off; And desolation shall come upon thee suddenly, Shoah, misfortune, destruction, Which thou shalt not know.  P-P-P-PLAGUE OF THE WRITTEN WORD.  Masculine manufactory of will.  ALEPH'S CALF, GOLDEN IN ITS BURNISHED BRITTAINIA.  Bleeker Street is brusied.  CANINE'S CONDOMINIUM.  And fence.  SHOAH: THE HORROR OF BEING STUCK IN THE PRESENT.  Hod.  Hod Almight do not leave me here, with no thread in and no thread out.  G IS THE WORLD THAT IS LIVING BEFORE.  H is the what?  The h'revolution?  THE OLD WORLD'S OUTER MEMBRANE.  HYMEN SAYS: Sin is the impossibility of breaking down the barriers which are the frontiers of time.  Which do not allow you to begin again.  Which do not understand the requirements of ethical action in re-making our conditions.  PLAGUE JURIST.  What?  YOU HEARD ME.  Man of vowels.  WHO?  OUAI.  I DON'T GET IT.  Montage Effect.  AEIOUY.  Arabic?  NEIN.  MA KNN.  Inside joke.  LET THE MAN SPEAK.  Who?  THE MAN OVER THERE.  THE MAN IN THE WOMAN AND THE WOMAN IN THE MAN.  Moses, you mean?  GABRIEL IS NEAR, ALWAYS NEAR.  The rock comes first.  THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE IS THE MYSTIC MEAT, AFTERALL.  Speak rolling moss.  THE ETHICAL ACTION THAT BREAKS THROUGH THE 'H' ENCLOSURE IS A BIRTH.  IT IS FREEDOM.  H is the same trap as is the number 8.  YOUR TRAP, THEN?  What?  UNIVERSE AND ANTI-UNIVERSE.  Am I trapped here then?  ARE YOU NOT?  By the police, you mean?  WHAT POLICE?  I don't understand you.  YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THE MAN OF UNDERSTANDING.  Trapped in my network of divinity, you mean?  NOW YOU ARE GETTING WARM, FRIEND.  Speak molling ross.  ETHICAL ACTION PERCEIVES THE WORLD NOT AS IT IS, BUT FOR WHAT IT COULD BE.  MAN IS FREEDOM; AND FREEDOM CONTAINS WITHIN IT THE PROMISE OF HAVING TO BE.  MAN OF THE FUTURE MUST ALWAYS BE DOING SOMETHING, INVENTING HIMSELF, PERFECTING HIMSELF.  THUS, THE PERFECTION OF MAN RESIDES IN HIS PERFECTABILITY.  PERFECTABILITY, THROUGH INVENTION  Drum roll.  THAT IS YOUR PROBLEM NOW.  YOU ARE TRAPPED IN THE HELOS OF THE HARMONY OF INACTION.  What?  YOUR HECATE BECKETTY HORIZONLESS HOMONYMITY.  MISTER BOSCH.  Marc Antony isn't speaking.  SOLITARY SURGERY.  STUDIOUSLY WAITING FOR THE WORLD TO END.  SO HE CAN BEGIN.  IN A LETTER OTHER THAN H.  Reek soulling moss.  WHEN THE DYNAMIC OF INVENTION ENCOUNTERS AN OBSTACLE (H) WHICH IT CANNOT OVERCOME, THE HUMAN BEING WHO IS TRAPPED, THUS, IN THIS 'H' SITUATION EXTRICATES HIMSELF BY USING ONE OF SEVERAL OF THE OTHER LETTERS IN THE ALPHABET DESIGNED TO AID HIM IN THIS TEMPORAL CATASTROPHE.  Trapped in the Eighth Sphere.  I see.  Play jury.

 

                                                           

 

WHO IS SINGING?  IS SOMEONE SINGING?  In the blood of Eden, lie the woman and the man.  With the man in the woman, and the woman in the man.  In the blood of Eden, now we end as we began: with the man in the woman, and the woman in the man   It was all for the union -- oh, the union of the woman, the woman and the man.  IN THE BLOOD OF EDEN.  OH, WE DO AS WE ARE TOLD.  With the man in the woman; and the woman growing cold.  IN THE BLOOD OF EDEN.  WE BUY EVERYTHING WE'RE SOLD.  With the man in the woman; the man in the woman's gold.  IN THE BLOOD OF ADAM.  IN THE BLOOD OF CRIMSON.  IN THE BLOOD OF CHILDREN.  IN THE BLOOD OF MONIKERS.  THE COCKS, AND THE OX..  Yes.  THE OX.  The Ox is not all it seems my friend -- that is, it appears to be less than it is.  IN WHAT WAY?  OX is a circle and a cross  -- that is, the female and the male.  The man coming out of the female by the looks of it.

 

                                     

 

The man on his cross; the woman in her womb.  The man on his cross in the woman's womb, the mother's womb.  THE OX IS ALP.  THE OX IS 111.  HOWEVER, ALP IS, IN FACT, PLA, AS HEBREW TEXT READS RIGHT TO LEFT.  ALP IS ALPHA, THE WORD, WHEN ALPHA MARRIES BETH.  AND THE ALPHABET IS CREATED.  ALP IS KETHER, BUT ALP IS KETHER COMING OUT OF DARKNESS, OR OBSCURITY.  PLA IS ALSO 111; BUT PLA IS A SECRET NAME OF KETHER, MEANING 'THE HIDDEN WONDER' AND ALSO 'THE WORKER OF WONDERS'.  ALP IS KETHER COMING OUT OF DARKNESS; AND PLA IS KETHER GOING IN TO DARKNESS.  'P' is a sound made with the lips; 'L' with the tongue; and 'A' in the throat.  The word, itself, indicates a transition made from the revealed to the concealed.  It is the opposite of ALP or, indeed, AUM, which symbolizes the transition from the concealed to the creation of the manifest universe.   'AUM', 'AOM' IN HEBREW, THE HINDU SACRED WORD WHICH CREATED THE MANIFEST UNIVERSE, ALSO, IN HEBREW, EQUALS 111.

 

1

A

70

O

40

M

 

 

111

 

 

THE LETTER 'P' IN HEBREW, 'PEH', MEANS MOUTH.  THE WORD 'PLA' SUGGESTS THE SPOKEN WORD, SPOKEN BY THE 'P' IS 'LA' WHICH MEANS 'NOT', SIMILAR TO 'AIN', NEGATIVE EXISTENCE.  THE WORD 'ALP' SUGGEST THE SPOKEN WORD, 'AL' ('EL'), THE MIGHTY ONE -- THE FORMAL TITLE OF THE FORMS GOD TAKES.  'AL' IS KETHER IN THE BRIATIC WORLD; AND ALSO THE GOD OF CHESED IN THE WORLD BELOW.  'AL' or "AB" is God the Father.  'AB' of course, is Aleph-Beth, the Divine Couple, the Sun married to the Moon.  OCCIDENT RISING.  'A' is said to be the Spirit of the Magician; 'B' is said to be the Magician Himself.  ONE GOD COMING AND ONE GOD GOING -- THE DOUBLE ASPECT OF THE WORD.  FROM AL-LA, OF COURSE, COMES THE NAME OF THE MUSLIM GOD.  They being the same God; two sides of the same coin -- One God, God of All.  ONE GOD IS NOTHING ('LA') AND ONE GOD IS ALL ('AL')  'NOTHING' IS HEBREW IS 'NVNH'.  'NOTHING' IN HEBREW EQUALS 111.

 

50

N

6

V

50

N

5

H

 

 

111

 

 

One God coming and one God going -- each being the same.  The one God coming has the knowledge of that which is not.  'AL' IS AIR AND 'PEH' IS FIRE.  THUS, ALEPH IS REPRESENTS THE MOLECULAR MARRIAGE OF AIR AND FIRE.  AIR IS THE LOGOS; AND FIRE IS THE SUN.  ALEPH IS THE SYMBOL OF THE SOLAR LOGOS, THE SON OF GOD.  I don't understand who is speaking.  Is he throwing his voice again -- Cosmopolite? THE HEBREW WORD FOR THE CIRCLE, OR THE LETTER 'O' IN THE WORD 'OX', THE WOMB INSIDE OF WHICH THE CHILD, THE 'X', LIVES, IS 'NIA'.  'NIA', CLEARLY, IS THE MIRROR IMAGE OF 'AIN', NEGATIVE EXISTENCE.  SO 'NIA' MUST BE POSITIVE EXISTENCE OR POSITIVE POTENTIAL BY INFERENCE.  AGAIN WE HAVE THE IDEA OF PASSING OUT AND PASSING IN.  THE 'O' IS THE MEDIUM THROUGH WHICH THE 'X' MOVES AND HAS HIS EXISTENCE.  'NIA' HAS AS ITS NUMBER 61.

 

50

N

10

I

1

A

 

 

61

 

 

THE 'X' IN THE WORD 'OX' -- WHICH SOME CALL THE SWASTIKA, OTHERS THE CROSS -- IS 'COPH', OR 'KVPH' IN HEBREW.  'KVPH' HAS AS ITS NUMBER 111, THE BEGINNING OF THE DIVINE CYCLE.

 

20

K

6

V

80

P

5

H

 

 

111

 

 

 

'X' IS THE DIVINE CHILD WITHIN THE WOMB, THE CIRCLE, THE ZERO.  The mystery of 'O' (NIA) is the mystery of LA (the Conceived God); and the mystery of 'X' (COPH) is the mystery of AL, the manifest God, the God emerging from the Womb, who is the Word, the Child Savior.  'A' IS THE OX and 'L' IS THE OX-GOAD.  THE OX-GOAD CAUSES THE OX TO MOVE.  HENCE, 'AL' IS THE OX BEING CAUSED TO MOVE; AND THE OX-GOAD CONTROLS THE MOVEMENT OF 'ALEPH', THE PRIMAL DRIVING FORCE.  Lamed is connected with the sign of Libra.  YES.  THE BALANCE.  TEACHER OF TEACHERS; MEDIATOR.  ALSO AIR.  THE FORCE OF DIVINE JUSTICE.  OUR LADY OF THE SCALES.  LAMED (LMD) HAS AS ITS NUMBER 74 (37 X 2), THE SAME NUMBER AS 'CIRCUIT' ('SBYB') AND 'CONSTANTLY' OR 'TILL ETERNITY' ('OD')

 

30

L

40

M

4

D

 

 

74

 

 

60

S

2

B

10

Y

2

B

 

 

74

 

 

70

O

4

D

 

 

74

 

 

Libra is the center of Crossmann's Wheel.  Ezekiel's Wheel.  The center of the Rosebud.  From which everything comes and to which everything returns.  THERE IS ANOTHER HEBREW WORD FOR 'OX'.  IT IS ShVR, meaning, 'ox on the left hand' or 'Old Era', referring to Taurus and the Phallus (physical life).  By adding 'AIN' (Nothing) with the 'OX', ShVR, we arrive at 567.

 

1

A

NOTHING

 

 

 

 

 

10

I

 

 

 

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

61

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

300

Sh

OX on the left side -TAURUS-PHALLUS

6

V

 

 

 

 

 

 

200

R

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

506

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

567

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This number, 567, is also the number of 'RAShVNI', 'First-Born', the child of the New Era.

 

200

R

1

A

300

S(h)

6

V

50

N

10

I

 

 

567

 

 

WE REMEMBER THE MAGIC SQUARE OF THE SUN ALSO CONTAINED AN 'X'.

 

444

111

32

34

36

38

40

42

111

444

 

7

1

 

 

 

 

6

7

 

 

19

 

8

 

 

11

 

19

 

 

31

 

 

15

16

 

 

31

 

 

43

 

 

21

22

 

 

43

 

 

55

 

26

 

 

29

 

55

 

 

67

31

 

 

 

 

36

67

 

444

111

32

34

36

38

40

42

111

444

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sum of all numbers inside the square:

 

222

 

 

Sum of the Four Corners of the square:

 

444

 

 

Sum of all numbers outside the square:

 

1776

 

THE MAGIC SQUARE OF THE SUN ALSO CONTAINS A CIRCLE, AN 'O' -- THAT IS, THE LETTER 'OX'.

 

 

 

37

 

 

37

 

 

37

 

 

 

 

 

 

37

 

1

35

 

 

32

6

 

37

30

 

 

 

 

7

37

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

37

12

 

 

 

 

25

37

 

31

2

 

 

5

36

 

37

 

 

 

 

 

 

37

 

 

37

 

 

37

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sum of all number inside the square:

 

222

 

 

Sum of all numbers in the circle

 

 

 

 

  (outside the square):

 

 

444

 

 

37 TIMES 3 IS, OF COURSE, THE NUMBER 111.  Is this your attempt to circle the square?  THE 3 AND THE 7 HAS WITHIN IT THE 111.  THE 3 AND THE 7 ARE TEN, THE 1 AND THE 0.  THAT IS ALEPH AGAIN.  THE TWO-SIDED ALEPH: AL-LA.  I can't help but notice that strange number 1776 in the 'X' or the cross.  ADDED TOGETHER, THESE NUMBERS EQUAL 93 (17 + 76).  93 IS THE NUMBER OF 'LEGIS' ('LGS'), THE LAW.

 

30

L

3

G

60

S

 

 

93

 

 

LIKEWISE, 'AL' AND, OF COURSE, 'LA' BOTH EQUAL 31. 

 

30

L

A

1

A

L

 

 

 

31

 

 

 

THE 31 OF AL-LA TIMES 3 (TRINITARY, OR 'THRICE BORN') EQUALS 93.  LOGOS ('LGS'), THE WORD OF THE LAW, ALSO EQUALS 93 IN HEBREW.

 

30

L

3

G

60

S

 

 

93

 

 

THE HEBREW WORD FOR SOLAR LOGOS, 'AIWAZ' ('OIVZ') ALSO EQUALS 93.

 

70

O

10

I

6

V

7

Z

 

 

93

 

 

THE HEBREW WORDS FOR 'ALL', 'NOT' AND 'AUGHT' ALSO EQUAL 93.

 

1

A

ALL

30

L

 

 

 

 

30

L

NOT

1

A

 

 

 

 

1

A

AUGHT

30

L

 or LA

 

 

 

93

 

 

 

THE CHILD OF ALL AND NOTHING ALSO EQUALS 93.

 

1

A

CHILD (OF)

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

ALL (AND)

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

30

L

NOTHING

1

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

93

 

 

 

 

IT IS INTERESTING TO NOTE THAT THE EXPRESSION 'ALL, NOT AND NAUGHT' HAS ANOTHER NUMBERICAL CORRESPONDENCE WHEN DIFFERENT SPELLINGS OF THE HEBREW WORDS 'NOT' AND 'NAUGHT' ARE USED:

 

1

A

ALL

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

50

N

NOT

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

9

T

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

U

AUGHT (SECRET SELF)

9

T

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

111

 

 

 

 

 

OTHER HEBREW WORDS AND PHRASES WHICH EQUAL 111 ARE:

            NONE (NVNE)

            LOVE (ALKHEMI)

            LORD OF WAR (MENTU, MVNTV)

            HE IS ONE GOD (AChD HVA ALHIM)

            1000 (ALP)

            THICK DARKNESS (APL)

            RUIN, DESTRUCTION, SUDDEN DEATH (ASN)

            MADNESS -- OR DESTRUCTION OF REASON BY ILLUMINATION (MHVLL)

            HOLOCAUST (OVLH)

IN ADDITION, THE MUSLIM WORD 'KAFY', GOD THE ALL SUFFICIENT IS VALUED AT 111.  THE GREEK WORD 'KLEIS' (KEYS) ADDS TO 111 USING GREEK GEMATRIA.  ALSO, USING A MODIFIED VERSION OF ENGLISH GEMATRIA, ONE IN WHICH A=0 AND B=1, THE FOLLOWING WORDS EQUAL 111:

            REVELATION

            THE BOOK OF GOD

            THE ENGLISH CABALA

            I AM ONE AND NONE

            ONE MAGICKAL CHILD

            ORDER & VALUE.

 

Taking a breath.  Breathing in and breathing out.  HE DID IT AGAIN.  Who did it?  THAT MOSES GUY.  THAT VALOIS OR WHATEVER HIS NAME IS.  THAT GUY WHO CAN CHANGE HIS FACE WITH GINSBERG.  I thought it was that Magician guy, throwing his voice again, acting like some Falconelli or someone.  I HEARD THE VOICE COMING OUT OF THE SKY.  What do you know!  You're drunk!  I THINK HE'S RIGHT.  IT WAS A VOICE IN THE SKY -- YES, I THINK THAT'S RIGHT.  I can't believe what we just saw or heard.  There was a flash of light, I think.  I can't believe that Melville also equates to 111.  Although, I'm not surprised.  The way Crossmann is devoted to Melville.  WHAT DOES THIS MEAN TO US, ANYWAY -- I MEAN, IS THIS SUPPOSED TO PROVE THE MAN'S DIVINITY TO US?  I swear that Moses is some angel, coming around like that, taking over Ginsberg's body on a whim.  IN HEBREW GEMATRIA, MICHAEL (MYKAL) EQUATES TO THE NUMBER 101.  AND METATRON (MTTRVN) EQUATES TO THE NUMBER 314.

 

40

M

10

Y

20

K

1

A

30

L

 

 

101

 

 

40

M

9

T

9

T

200

R

6

V

50

N

 

 

314

 

 

IT IS WRITTEN THAT METATRON PRESIDES OVER KETHER IN BRIAH, AND OVER MALKUTH IN BRIAH; AND IT IS SAID THAT MICHAEL PRESIDES OVER TIPHERETH IN BRIAH.  KETHER IS 1, TIPHERETH IS 6 AND MALKUTH IS 10.  THE SUM OF THESE NUMBERS IS 17, THE DATE OF CROSSMANN'S BIRTH.  IT IS ALSO WRITTEN THAT MYKAL IS THE ARCHANGEL OF THE SUN AND FIRE; AND ALSO THAT HE PRESIDES OVER MALKUTH IN BRIAH.  Yes.  This explains his writing with so much conviction of his contact with both angels while defending Daphna, or Israel, in his novel.  Yes, I do see this quite clearly.  IT IS ALSO WRITTEN THAT METATRON IS THE ARCHANGEL OF KETHER AND ALSO THE ANGEL OF TIPHERETH IN BRIAH.  Michael and Metatron seem to be made of the same nature, seem to be aspects of the same personality.  IT IS WRITTEN THAT 314 DENOTES THE SHEKINAH, GOD'S VEIL, GOD'S BRIDE.  Crossmann wrote of Daphna Greenstein being his Shekinah in 1983.  314 IS ALSO ATTRIBUTED TO SHADDAI (ShDI), ALMIGHTY, A GOD ATTRIBUTED TO YESOD.  Remember in his novel when he believed that Daphna was the mother who would give birth to the Holy Child, the Son -- but she then gave birth to a daughter.  And then he came to realize that Daphna was his Shekinah, his mythical Mother, Wife and Daughter; and that he was essentially giving birth to himself, through the office of Daphna?  It was as if he was the 'X' and Daphna was the 'O'.  BUT IT WAS ALL ABSTRACT.  Yes, as it must be, on that level.  THE NUMBER 101 ALSO DENOTES, IN HEBREW, A VIRGIN PRINCESS, ECCLESIA.  I don't mean to change the subject friends, but I thought it interesting that the sum of all numbers outside the square in the 'X' pattern Magic Square of the Sun was 1776 -- which is also the birth year of America.  (WHAT IS THE COLOR OF SILENCE WHEN IT COMES?  Its number is 67.  IN ENGLISH, REGULAR GEMATRIA.  Yes.  SHAKE ON IT.  Regular shake?  YES.)  Ah, what does a vagina smell like?  A CROW'S HEAD?  What?  MAGNESIUM?  What?  THE MORTIFICATION OF MERCURY?  I'm sure I don't know what you say.  IS HE SUGGESTING THAT 1776 IS A COSMIC REFERENCE TO THE BIRTH OF CHRIST?  THAT IS, TO THE BIRTH OF AMERICA?  The Magic Square of the Sun seems to suggest this.  1 plus 7 equals 8 and 8 plus 7 equals 15 and 15 plus 6 equals 21.  ADDING THE NUMBERS 1 through 6 brings you to 21.  21 is also 7 times 7 times 7 -- by transmutation 777, which, of course, is 111 times 7.

 

1

1

2

3

3

6

4

10

5

15

6

21

7

28

8

36

9

45

10

55

11

66

12

78

13

91

14

105

15

120

16

136

17

153

18

171

19

190

20

210

21

231

22

253

23

276

24

300

25

325

26

351

27

378

28

406

29

435

30

465

31

496

32

528

33

561

34

595

35

630

36

666

 

In Jewish Gematria, the number 441 is AMTh, Truth.  441 equals 21 x 21 x 21.  21 is AHIH, the God of Kether, whose Will is Truth.

 

1

A

40

M

400

Th

 

 

 

 

441

 

 

 

1

A

5

H

10

I

5

H

 

 

21

 

 

THE GOD NAME OF TIPHERETH, THE KABBALISTIC SUN, IS IAU, WHICH IS 17.  TIPHERETH, OF COURSE, IS THE REALM OF MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL -- AND IT IS THE SPHERE OF BEAUTY.  TIPHERETH IS SAID TO BE THE BRIDE OF MALKUTH, THE KINGDOM, WHO IS SHEKINAH, THE DAUGHTER OF GOD.  THE HEBREW LETTER 'P' IS 17TH LETTER IN THE HEBREW ALPHABET (THE 16TH LETTER IN THE ENGLISH ALPHABET).  THE HEBREW WORD FOR A CIRCLE OR ORBIT (ChVG) HAS A NUMERICAL VALUE OF 17.

 

8

C

Circle

 

h

Orbit

6

V

 

3

G

 

 

 

 

17

 

 

 

 

WE REMEMBER THAT THE ANGELS ARE REPRESENTED AS BEING THE VALUE OF PI, AS THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO MAN IS SIMILAR TO THAT OF THE CIRCUMFERENCE OF THE CIRCLE TO THE DIAMETER.  IN A SENSE, THE ANGELS STAND BEYOND THE PERSONAL CIRCLES OF MAN, THE LOWER MAN, PHYSICAL, EMOTION, MENTAL MAN, MAN CAPABLE OF RISING TO THE USE OF THE CONCRETE MIND.  'GOOD' IN HEBREW ('TVB') ALSO EQUATES TO THE NUMBER 17.

 

9

T

Good

6

V

 

2

B

 

 

 

 

17

 

 

 

THE HEBREW LETTER 'P' MEANS 'MOUTH' AND SIGNIFIES 'SPEECH', 'BREATH', THE 'ORAL LAW' AND DESIRE (HUNGER).  IT ALSO MEANS 'OPENING', AND SUGGESTS THE VAGINA, THE 'MOUTH BELOW'.  ANDROGYNOUS NATURE, BEING DUAL, MALE AND FEMALE, MUST HAVE BOTH A PHALLUS AND A VAGINA.  THE 'VAGINA' IS GAINED BY MEN OFTEN IN THE FORM OF A WOUND.  JESUS WAS WOUNDED IN THE SIDE; AND ADAM WAS WOUNDED WHEN HIS RIB WAS REMOVED IN THE CREATION OF HIS FEMALE HALF, HEVA.  'HEVA' HAS THE NUMERICAL VALUE, ALSO, OF 17.

 

5

H

5

E

6

V

1

A

 

 

17

 

 

'HEVA' (OR 'EVE' IN ENGLISH) IS THE CONJUNCTION OR UNION OF THE SECOND NAME OF TETRAGRAMMATON, 'HE', THE SUPERNAL MOTHER, WITH HER SON, 'VAV', THE THIRD NAME OF THE SACRED NAME, THE WORLD SAVIOR.  'HE' PLUS 'VAV' RESULTS, IN UNION, IN THE NUMBER 21.

 

5

H

5

E

 

 

10

 

 

 

5

V

1

A

5

V

 

 

11

 

 

 

21

 

 

THIS UNION, THE SUPERNAL MOTHER AND THE SON, IS REGARDED AS AN IMMACULATE CONCEPTION SINCE THE HOLY SPIRIT MOVES UPON THE FACE OF THE MOTHER AND THE RESULTANT UNION PRODUCES 'VAV', THE SON.  THE SON'S UNION WITH THE SECOND 'HE', THE DAUGHTER, IS NOT SO IMMACULATE.  THIS UNION IS SEXUAL; AND THIS REFERS TO THE LEGENDARY 'FALL OF MAN'.  GOD THE FATHER, JAH ('IAH') HAS A NUMERICAL VALUE OF 16.

 

10

I

1

A

5

H

 

 

16

 

 

HIS UNION WITH THE SUPERNAL MOTHER, 'HE', IS, NUMERICALLY, 26.  WHICH, AS WE HAVE NOTED, IS THE SAME NUMBER OF THE LETTERS OF THE TETRAGRAMMATON, 'IHVH' AND OF OUR SUBJECT, 'MJC'.

 

10

I

1

A

5

H

 

 

16

 

 

 

5

H

5

E

 

V

 

A

 

 

10

 

 

 

26

 

 

10

I

5

H

6

V

5

H

 

 

26

 

 

 

13

M

10

J

3

C

 

 

26

 

 

THE UNION OF THE THREE HIGHEST PERSONS OF THE HEBREW TETRAGRAMMATON, FATHER, MOTHER AND SON, RESULTS IN THE MYSTIC NUMBER 37, THE BASIS OF THE WORLD.  THE HIGHEST PRINCIPLE OF THE SOUL ('IChIDH'), ATTRIBUTABLE TO KETHER, WHO IS BOTH THE NUMBERS 1 AND 11.  37 TIMES 3, WE REMEMBER, IS 111.

 

 

10

I

1

A

5

H

 

 

16

 

 

 

5

H

5

E

 

V

 

A

 

 

10

 

 

 

5

V

1

A

5

V

 

 

11

 

 

 

37

 

 

10

I

8

Ch

10

I

4

D

5

H

 

 

37

 

 

Quick!  Draw it in the snow!

 

                                   

 

 

AHH, VERY NICE, THE SWORD IN THE STONE.  You make of Malkuth, and of Shekinah, the Stone.  OF COURSE WE REMEMBER THAT THE NUMBERS 1-17 ADDED TOGETHER RETURN 153, WHICH IS THE NUMBER OF 'MICHAEL THE ARKANGEL' IN ENGLISH GEMATRIA.  The numbers 1-17 equal 153 and the numbers 1-26 equal 531.  And 153 added to 531 equals 666, the number of the Anti-Christ.  Thus, the key numbers 17, 26 and 36 equal 79.  And 79, in Hebrew gematria, besides equating to 'Boaz' (BOZ) and 'Jachin' ('IAChIN') two of the pillars of the Temple of Solomon, also equates the Jewish word for 'conjunction' or 'union', 'ODH', and also for the Hebrew word meaning to 'Die' ('GVO').

 

70

O

Union

 

4

D

Conjunction

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

79

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

G

Die

 

6

V

 

 

70

O

 

 

 

 

 

 

79

 

 

 

 

The conjunction of the DUAD, Michael/Jesus Christ (17, Tipereth -- 26, IHVH) -- that is, the Christ principal in its totality -- with 666 (36 -- the Anti-Christ) leads to Death, leads to Annihilation of the world.  MATTER AND ANTI-MATTER ANNIHILATE WHEN THEY MEET.  Christ and Anti-Christ also annihilate when they meet.  YES, BUT THERE IS MORE.  WE ADD THE KEY CROSSMANN NUMBERS TOGETHER, 17 AND 26 AND 36 AND RETURN THE NUMBER 79 -- BUT THERE IS ANOTHER NUMBER THAT IS KEY TO CROSSMANN -- 16.  THIS, BESIDES LEAVING US A SECOND 16 SHORT OF THE MAGIC NUMBER 111, ALSO PROVIDES US WITH A KEY UNDERSTANDING OF THE QUATERNARY NATURE.  16 PLUS 17 EQUALS 33 AND 33 PLUS 26 EQUALS 59 AND 59 PLUS 36 EQUALS 95.  IN HEBREW, THE NUMBER 95 EQUATES WITH THE FOLLOWING WORDS: 'MARS' ('MADYM'), 'JOURNEY' ('MHLK'), THREE ANGELS ('DYNAL', 'HHa'aYH' AND 'ZCha'aY').  MORE IMPORTANTLY, THE NUMBER 95 EQUATES WITH THESE WORDS

            'HMN' -- MULTITUDE, ABUNDANCE;

            'HMYM'-- THE WATERS;

            'MHLK' -- QUEEN;

            'SNL' -- THE ROCK;

            'ABN GDLH' -- THE GREAT STONE. 

 

IT IS THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE WE ARE SEEKING AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS COLD NIGHT.  THE CA'ABA STONE, THE ONE THAT HURTLE TURTLED OUT OF HEAVEN.  THE BLACK VIRGIN.  THE BLACK QUEEN.  THE MOTHER OF THE WORLD.  THE ROCK, WHICH IS THE EARTH.  MALKUTH, THE BRIDE, FROM WHICH COMES EVERYTHING, THE MULTITUDE AND THE ABUNDANCE.  THE NUMBERS, THE SEPHIROTH, THE TREE OF LIFE, DESCRIBE THE DESCENT OF LIGHT OUT OF HEAVEN TO THE EARTH.  THE EARTH IS THE ROCK FROM WHICH THE PLANT COMES, THEN THE ANIMALS, THEN MAN.

 

5

H

Abundance,

 

40

M

Multitude

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

95

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

The Waters

 

40

M

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

95

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

40

M

The Queen

 

5

H

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

20

K

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

95

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

60

S

Rock

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

95

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

The Great Stone

 

2

B

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

G

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

95

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE MORE EXAMPLE, BY PERMUTATION.  WE ADD THE SUMS OF 1-16, 1-17, 1-26 AND 1-36.  OUR RETURN IS 1306.  WHEN WE TREAT THESE NUMBEERS AS INDIVIDUAL UNITS: 1 PLUS 3 EQUALS 4 AND 4 PLUS 0 EQUALS 4 AND 4 PLUS 6 EQUALS 10.  AND 10 IS THE NUMBER OF PERFECTION, COMPLETION, TOTALITY.  THE END OF ONE CYCLE, WITH THE 1, THE MALE PRINCIPLE, AND THE 0, THE FEMALE PRINCIPLE, AGAIN IN UNION.  THE GOD WITH HIS BRIDE, TAKING UP THE EGG, TAKING UP RESIDENCE IN THE WOMB AGAIN, PREPARING TO BECOME 11.

 

 

Numbers:

136

 1 - 16

153

 1 - 17

351

 1 - 26

666

 1 - 36

 

 

 

1306

 

 

 

 

 

1

 

 

3

 

 

0

 

 

6

 

 

 

 

 

10

 

 

 

Is he finished?  I DON"T KNOW.  They've come back out.  WHO?  Alfonse and Gaston.  WHAT?  We saw the light again.  And we heard the voice.  VOICES, IT SEEMED TO ME.  IT SOUNDED LIKE MORE THAN ONE VOICE TO ME.  Did you absorb all of that?  I ABSORBED SOME OF IT.  Did you understand that words had a hidden energy network of numbers?  NOT TO THAT EXTENT.  And what of Crossmann?  YES.  What of him?  I'M WONDERING WHAT ALL THIS MEANS, IN YOUR MIND -- REGARDING CROSSMANN?  His divinity, you mean?  ORE ALCHEMY!  Yes, be careful when you speak that word.  MALCHEMY!  Yes, I understand you can't....  HE KNOWS EVERYTHING, HE UNDERSTANDS CANT.  He understands Kant.  HE UNDERSTANDS CUNT.  Spectacularly speaking.  DUNG AND MARS REFUSED TURNING BLACK IN A QUADRILLE OR TWO.  Adding heat to dense energy: watch the frozen compounds break into marital components.  GOLDSMITH OR TWO -- KEEPER OF THE ROYAL MINT.  From the black stone comes everything, once it is heated to a significant degree.  THE EARTH HERSELF, THE WOMB OF MALKUTH, THE DAUGTHER OF THE SKY, BEING THE GREAT STONE THROWN DOWN FROM HEAVEN.  A DEAD STONE TO THE EYE.  BUT A FIRE BURNS WITHIN.  AND PATIENCE IS REQUIRED, A STEADY FIRE, TO ALLOWED THE ROCK TO EVENTUALLY BREAK OPEN AND ALLOW THE TRAPPED ELEMENTS TO BEGIN TO ESCAPE TO THE SURFACE.  WATER; HOT WATER.  COOL MILKY WATER.  A WOMB INDEED, BEING WARMED BY THE TWO FLAMES, ONE AN ACTUAL FLAME, AND A SECOND A POTENTIAL FLAME, ONE WAITING FOR THE SECOND EXTRACTION.  Magnesium.  PARDON?  Vulcanelli, you mean?  I THINK THAT IS THE MAN IN THE RED HAT -- IS IT NOT?  Don't look!  This is a house of God, afterall.  STONE OF DESTINY.  A king will sit on it for seven hundred years.  MORE THAN THAT.  Talk to an archaeologist.  TALK TO THE RUSSIAN WITCH; I'M SURE SHE CAN EXPLAIN TO YOU THE DAYS AND NIGHTS OF BRAHMA.  Shhh!  I think she can read your mind.  Whether you mention her she looks at us.  A FOUNTAIN COMING OUT OF A ROCK.  THE WOMAN OPENING HER WOMB AND LIFE COMING OUT, WATER AND MILK MIXED, MILK OF MAGNESIA.  Ask Holmat if he is coming or going.  HOLMAT AND TAMLOH; TORAH AND HAROT.  Are you coming or going?  WE'RE HERE.  He asked you to pray with him -- can you not sit with him for a few hours before his arrest?  THE DOOR CLOSES.  We are here with him.  We are here.  SPACE HAS INFINITE POTENTIAL.  Who is that speaking?  I.  Eye?  INCIPIENT INCITEMENT.  Narcolepsy's plea.  EYE'S INVERSIONS.  He is still here!  I can hear him breathing!  USING THE ENGLISH GEMATRIA SYSTEM THAT VIEWS A AS THE AIN-SOPH, THE NO-NUMBER, AND B AS 1, THOUGH Z AS 25, WE ADD THE NAMES OF THE SEPHIROTH TOGETHER AND RETURN THE DIVINE NUMBER 777, 111 TIMES 7.

 

0

A

8

I

13

N

0

A

8

I

13

N

18

S

14

O

15

P

7

H

0

A

8

I

13

N

18

S

14

O

15

P

7

H

0

A

20

U

17

R

10

K

4

E

19

T

7

H

4

E

17

R

2

C

7

H

14

O

2

C

10

K

12

M

0

A

7

H

1

B

8

I

13

N

0

A

7

H

2

C

7

H

4

E

18

S

4

E

3

D

6

G

4

E

1

B

20

U

17

R

0

A

7

H

19

T

8

I

15

P

7

H

0

A

17

R

4

E

19

T

7

H

13

N

4

E

19

T

25

Z

0

A

2

C

7

H

7

H

14

O

3

D

24

Y

4

E

18

S

14

O

3

D

12

M

0

A

11

L

10

K

20

U

19

T

7

H

 

 

777

 

 

Black Phosphorus.  IN HEBREW, THE PHRASE 'AChTh RUCh ALHIM ChIIM', 'ONE IS THE SPIRIT OF THE LIVING GOD', EQUATES TO THE NUMBER 777.

 

1

A

8

Ch

400

Th

 

 

200

R

6

U

8

Ch

 

 

1

A

30

L

5

H

10

I

40

M

 

 

8

Ch

10

I

10

I

40

M

 

 

777

 

 

777 IS ALSO THE NUMBER OF THE 'FLAMING SWORD' THAT DROVE ADAM AND EVE OUT OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN.  This seems a profound mystery.  YES.  I am not sure that I am absorbing this information.  YOU HAVE A CATALYST AT YOUR VERY HAND.  Hand ('YD') measures 14.  I SEE.  AND PLEASE DON'T GIVE ME THE MATRIX NUMBER OF VISION.  You see that it is a matrix!  YES, I SEE THAT MUCH.  I SEE THAT IT IS A WEB, A NETWORK OF CONNECTIONS.  It is, or it appears to be?  YES -- I UNDERSTAND YOUR DILEMMA.  Whether we apprehend what is there or what is in our mind -- and whether there is a difference.  YES -- I UNDERSTAND YOUR DILEMMA.  The Devil is 666; God is 777; Jesus is 888.  I DON'T SEE THAT.  In the beginning created God the heavens and the earth.  This opening phrase of the bibile consists of 7 Hebrew words and The number of 'God' is 86, 'Paradise' is 395; and 'Earth' is 296.  Together these equal 777.  BUT YOU HAVE SUBSTITUTED THE WORD 'PARADISE' FOR THE WORD 'HEAVENS' TO MEET YOUR NEEDS.  This is all a bit mind-numbing, isn't it?  IT'S THE LIGHT.  Where is that light coming from, anyway?  LOOK AT IT.  IT IS GOING AWAY AGAIN.  IT'S GOING RIGHT BACK INTO CROSSMANN'S HEAD.  Zip.  It is gone.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT!  WHAT DOES IT MEAN?  You saw it didn't you.  LOOK HOW DARK IT IS NOW.  AND HOW COLD.  Look!  Ginsberg is that Moses fellow again.  NOT MOSES, MOISHE.  What?  MOISHE. THE FELLOW AT THE MOMA.  HIS NAME WAS MOISHE FRANK.  HIS NAME ISN'T MOSES.  What is he doing here?  WHAT ARE ANY OF US DOING HERE?  We are....what, praying in the dark.  Praying in the cold.  YOU'RE NOT PRAYING.  What?  YOU'RE NOT PRAYING.  I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING BUT IT CLEARLY IS NOT PRAYING.  I have been....thinking about praying.  I have been... WE ARE ACCOMPANYING HIM WHILE HE PRAYS.  ISN'T THAT WHAT HE ASKED US TO DO?  BEFORE HE'S JAILED AGAIN.  'Cross' in Greek is also the number 777.  THE ANGEL WHO MEASURES THE CITY, IN THE BOOK OF REVELATIONS, THE NEW JERUSALEM IS THE SEVENTH ANGEL WHO HAS SEVEN BOWLS FULL OF THE SEVEN LAST PLAGUES.  THE 'MEASURING ROD' WITH WHICH HE MEASURES THE CITY IS ALSO, BY GEMATRIA, 777.  I thought the light had left us.  IN GREEK, THE WORD 'REUSRRECTION' ALSO MEASURES 777.  I wonder where the voice is coming from now.  WE SAW THE VOICE GO BACK INTO CROSSMANN'S HEAD.  Perhaps it's a police spotlight.  Perhaps the police are outside, surrounding the church.  NO, IT WENT INTO HIS HEAD!  I SAW THE LIGHT RUN RIGHT INTO CROSSMANN'S HEAD!  I saw it too!  YEAH, SO DID I!  But the voice, I mean.  Where is the voice coming from?  IT'S A FULL VOCAL ANIMUS.  What?  Are you mad, or just drunk, Bill?  PLAYING WITH A FULL THROTTLE OF WORDS.  I see.  THE MATRIX?  What?  YOU SAID YOU SEE -- DO YOU SEE THE MATRIX?  What's with that stupid red hat, anyway?  YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO ASK.  You are supposed to know, you fool!  ATHENOR REDRESS.  What?  Speak more clearly, Bill.  ATHENOR CASTLE.  I don't understand you.  YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING HERE?  Well, that's not fair.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE POSTMAN?  What?  THOU SHALT NOT STEAL, HERR MANN, DOUBTING THOMAS.  Thoushaltnot steal, but thoumay borrow.  FROM THE WORLDWOMB.  Plagiarist!  POSTMAN BOASTMAN.  LETTERCARRIER BETTERMARRYHER.  Hand on hand; someone's in white.  WHITE FROM BLACK; RED FROM WHITE.  Smoke in the Vatican belfry.  THERE HAS BEEN A SIGHTING OF THE POPE, MOVING UP BROADWAY IN A CART DRAWN BY AN ASS.  Man of Numbers and Man of Letters.  MAN OF HOD AND MAN OF NOD.  Crossmann!  I can't hear you!  A SIREN!  DID I HEAR A SIREN!   Numbers of Man and Letters of Man.  WHERE ARE WE GOING?  Haven't you read the book -- Man on a Tightrope?  AYE!  I SAW THE MOVIE!  Eyes are to the Day what Ears are to the Night.  YES, WE KNOW THAT.  You can't convert a bunch of cynical intellectuals.  He is preaching to the wrong crowd.  He should preach to the lowest, the least proud, thieves and whores, cripples, beggars.  Cynical intellectuals believe that they are gods.  They are impossible to unseat with merely mysticism.  CLEARLY, WE ARE NOT THE BLACK STONE.  We are very far from the black stone.  REALLY?  I DO NOT CONSIDER IT SO.  I AM SITTING ON A BLACK STONE.  See him point under his ass.  He is truly sitting on a black stone.  HE'S DRUNK.  He's been drinking children's blood.  WHAT!  Yes.  IS HE A JEW TOO!  No, a good old boy from Virginia.  OH, I SEE.  GUILT!  Southern Liberal Guilt.  IS BILL MOYERS IN THE HOUSE?  Ice.  Ice Tea.  THE LETTER 'I', 'Y' AND 'J', YOD, IS THE HAND.

 

                                   

 

Breugel's damned beginnings.  HIS HAND, SPANKING THE STUDENT IN HIS CLASS.  The ass in the window.  THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING RUDE.  Bear shite.  UP THE HILL IN THE SNOW.  Marvellous.  YES, MARVELOUS.  A piece of paper flapping blithely.  CRANING TO SEE THE CREATOR.   I.  EGO.  EGO IAGO.  Greek lament.  IAGO PRADO.  Greek contentment.  THE HAND ON THE NAKED BOY'S BUTT.  Homo erotickus erectus.  ELECTRA; ELECTRON STATION; EQUAR ELECTION; PNEUMA.  Pandemonium.  PANDER HAND.  Hebrew hand, looking like a cock to me -- with something in it.  A coin or two.  Melting in the snow.  A ITCH EYE JAKE KAYE ELLEN HEM O' PEE.  Why is everything a bathroom stimulus to you?  IT'S NOT A BATHROOM STIMULUS, FRANKLY.  IT IS A PICTURE ON HIS PARENT'S FIRST LOVEMAKING EVENT.  Learning thee alphabet by hand.  ALEPH SLIDES INTO BETH, FEELING THE SILKY PARTS OF HER OYSTER.  Ox in his pants; moist oyster in his pink eye.  PINK EYE IN HIS HAND; MOIST ROOSTER IN HIS HAND.   TIP OF THE HEAD TO YOU, DEAR.  Miles of Isles.  A blonde trajectory with a peapod and hood.  KEPH.  ALEPH BETH KEPH.  Deaf.  BEETHOVEN.  Easy annihilation.  EFF.  Feff.  GEFFIN.  DAVID GEFFIN.  Eff ewe see Kaye.  MANNERS OF A THIEF.  Grief monkey, poised above the bridge.  TOUCHED BY THE I OF YOD.  Jod.  JOD-CARRIER.  Maker of mint.  MASONS.  The Rosebud Cross.  Knights of the Rosebud Cross.  AYE.  Touch the peapod with a wet finger.  YES.  Ink on the pin, underneath the skin, a crazy icecycle coming in.  MADE FOR TWO.  At least two.  THE CRAZY PEAPOD ARCHING ITS SKIN HEAVENWARD, ACHING TO FIND A HAND OR LIP.  Ipso facto.  ISOCELES.  Electra knows that her father has an itch on.  THE SPECTRE OF TOO-CLOSE LIVING, HAND IN GLOVE.  Pardon my wind.  GINSBERG IS BACK.  Moses is gone.  MOISE IS GONE.  Yeah, him too.  SITTING TO CLOSE TO THE RADIO.  I know.  MOVE BACK A BIT, BACK TO THE BLACK STONE.  Hurtle turtle.  IT AINT ME, CABE.  Pig Latten, the fire burns low.  UFFALO BEY ING SPREY IELD FAY.  Faye Morgan, Faye Morgan.  ORGAN MAY IND FAY EE THAY IN OR YEE EELING FEE OOD GAY OODD MAY, FAYE MAY.  May I inspect your ink-finger again, dear?  Curiosity's inning gray ache say.  MINOR.  I Y J.  IN YOU JESUS.  I J Y.  IN JESUS YOU.  J Y I.  JEHOSHUA YESHUA IESOUS.  Three names in one.  FORTY FOUR.  Thirty.  TRICKLE DOWN.  TRICKLE DOWN.  Israel Joins You.  You Join Israel.  Joins Israel You.  JOHN JOHN, JOHN.  JEUS JACOB JOSEPH.  The hand.  Of partnership.  Brotherhood.  IES.  The hand is what makes man capable of innovation, capable of invention.  CAPABLE OF BREAKING DOWN THE CATASTROPHE OF 'H'.  Hubert Horatio Humphrey.  HERBERT HANOVER HOOVER.  Hunsucker's Hubris and Harrowing Proxy.  HA HA HA!  A Koen being what again?  A KAYE NOT AN AITCH.  Yes.  You are right.  WHAT'S THIS ABOUT BREUGEL?  Ask that short man who talks fast.  YOD JOD IOD GOD.  Iodine God.  BLOOD AGAIN -- ROYAL BLOOD.  Of course.  DE JURE PLA JURE.  Miletus made is simple then, the Iodine God becoming the Pillar God: I.  THE PHALLIC GOD, JOD  Jod He Vav He.  FOUR CORNERS OF THE SQUARE.  The Sky is Raise.  Erection is election.  BUT LIGHT DOES NOT LAST.  Aye.  RIB-EYED EVE.  IEVE'S CREATION.  Aye.  Incipient Instinct Insinuating Isosceles.  TWO EQUAL SIDES.  Rib-Eyed Eve: Instinct's Invention.  HAND, TAKE, GIVE.  To command, to show, to exhibit.  Time.  YES.  THE HAND OF TIME.  Precisely.  HAS IT STOPPED SNOWING.  LOOK, THE MOON!  The is where the light comes from.  NO, I SAW IT RUN INTO CROSSMANN'S HEAD.  Yes, I did too.  YOU TWO ARE...YOU HAVE REPUTATIONS, YOU KNOW.  What kind of reputations?  WELL, LET'S JUST SAY THAT YOUR PERCEPTIVE ABILITIES IS OPEN TO QUESTION.  Don't know who the hell I'm saving any more.  WHAT?  WHO SAID THAT?  I let go.  And I let go.  WHO WAS THAT?  DID YOU HEAR THAT?  I'm losing such a central part of me -- I can't let go of it.  THERE IT IS AGAIN!  I recognize how much I've lost.  But I cannot face the cost.  THERE IT IS AGAIN!  Iron Nails Run In.  270.  IN ENGLISH, 50 -- THE YEAR OF HIS BIRTH.  Cough Kaye.  HE HE.  The Clerk as a Writer.  HE HE.  C.O.D.A.  Coada.  CODA. If you insist.  YAD IS THE HAND WITH RESPECT TO THE FINGERS.  You know the green from the red.  You know the quick from the dead.  THERE IT IS AGAIN.  Yes, I heard it too.  CONVERSATIONS GET TOO STRONG.  Yes.  KAF IS THE HAND WITH RESPECT TO THE PALM.  Where the water gathers.  YES.  Maple.  PALMETTO.  Sanctity.  RECEIVING.  Yes.  RECEIVING BLESSINGS.  Yes.  WHAT ELSE GOES IN THE PALM?  Sunday.  YES.  WHAT ELSE?  He wasn't with the angels in their quilted coats.  Finding my way home.  FROM THE GREAT ESCAPE.  What?  WHO WAS THAT SECOND VOICE.  Only us sleeping -- only us dreaming.  I hear you calling me.  I hear you calling me.  YES. Yes.  FROM THE GREAT ESCAPE.  Aye.

 

                                               

 

RIVER, RIVER, RIVER RUNNING DEEP.  BRING ME SOMETHING TO HELP ME GET SOME SLEEP.  There it is again.

 

                                   

 

KAYE IS NOT CLEAN.  KAYE IS K K K.  Cough Kaye: checking walnuts with Coff Keff Keph.  AMERIKA.  KKKK Ken Kesey.  METAMORPHAKUSS.  Krissy Kross Kiss.  HE HE KAYE.    Fingers to palm, buried in Kaye.  KRIMENY KRIMENY KRIMENENTY.  Rosencranz and Gilgenstern.  OBJET DEVILLE.  Coffer Coffer Coffer.  ECOLE DE SKOOL.  Kris Kringle Krafts Klefs von Kindern.  KOOL KLUX KILN.  Moniter von Minten.  IN THE PALM.  Father, can you help out an old altar boy.  ALTERN BOYNE BOYNE.  Bought.  DAS KAPITAL.  KARL KARL KARX - Markie Mark.  MARX.  GROUCHO, HYPNOTO, AND KITO.  South of the Belt -- South of the Border.  BORED HER, HE BORED HER, CROSSMAN BORED OUR OLD FRIEND KATE.  Mate the Mime and Mary the Y.  W Y K.  Wicked.  WYKOFF.  Wyk is Wake.  Is Michael Crossmann awake?  DREAMING?  IS HE NOT?  Kalamedy.  WHAT?  Kalamedy?  TRAPPED IN TIME?  Yes.  That is a kalamedy.  THE SKILLS WE DEVELOP IN THIS LIFE WE KEEP IN THE NEXT LIFE.  A GREAT WRITER IN THIS LIFE REMAINS A GREAT WRITER IN THE NEXT.  A GREAT THINKER HERE REMAINS A GREAT THINKER THERE.  A GREAT BUSINESSMAN REMAINS A GREAT BUSINESSMAN.  A GENIUS IS THE MAN IN CONTACT WITH HIS OWN SPIRIT.  WHEN THE MAN REACHES HIS GENIUS, THEN HE LEAVES AND DOESN'T COME BACK.  Hi Jack.  Hi Jack.  WHAT DID YOU SAY?  What?  YOU SAID HI JACK.  Hi, Jack Black.  Hi, Jack Drack.  Jack Crack Corn.  HI, JACK MORMON.  HI, JACK THE DOORMAN.  Black hand on the door.  Black hand on the floor.  ANOTHER PLANE.  WHERE IS IT GOING?  FLYING SO LOW.  HEADING SOUTH, OVER THE TREES.  TOO LOW.  TOO LOW.  Hi, Jack.  Jack Highbrow lowered loughly.  By the lock lucked by luffly seth seth seth.  Serpent Snake Sipher Seshtha.  Siphon Typhon.  Typhon Tower.  TTP.  Tiphereth.  TOO TOO PROXIM.  Who is driving that plane, that train?  DRAT.  Twint Hours.  DON'T SAY THAT!  What?  SSSH!  SOMEONE WILL HEAR YOU!  I didn't say Twin Towers.  I said Twint Hours. OBL.  OBL.  Oblongata.  OBLONSKY.  Count the planes as they dive.  ONE, TWO BUCKLE YOUR SHOE.  THREE, FOUR, AN ACT OF WAR.  Looking for Thor's exceptional thunder.  OBLIGATORY MENTOR.  Perhaps you can sell him a room in the Millenium Hotel.  LAMBDA LAMB A LA AL LA.  Don't say anymore.  OSANA BIN LAMBDA.  Ladened with the blood.  BUCKETS OF BLOOD.  Leaden man in his black shawl and padre.  PANDERER OF NAROK.  Meanderer of Ranko.  DOCK, DOCK, TALK NOT DOCTOR.  Truman.  Keep your mouth shut.  They will be rushing toward me.  EL.  They will be coming to get me.  DON'T TELL THEM ANYTHING!  BLAME IT ON CROSSMANN!  What?  CROSSMANN ONCE WAS A COMMUNIST!  BLAME IT ON HIM!  SAY HE HATED AMERICA!  What?  YOU HEARD ME!  Holy Dahij!  HOLY DAHIJ!  What are you two talking about?  Holy Dahij!  What does that mean?  NOTHING!  Don't say anything!  LET'S GO BACK INSIDE!  Shhh!  Loose lips sink ships!  SHH!  Aboo Dobby.  SHH!  Toothpick Sudan.  SHH!  Nadus.  SHH!  Nemey.  SHH!  Cole Coal Koan.  SHH!  Loose lips shrink hips.  ANGELINA JOLIE.  Loose lips link lips.  EL EL EL Degeneratus.  QARI.  Shh!  NARI.  Shh!  AIRYS.  Shh!  LOCK LOCK LOCKERBY LOUGH.  Shh!  CHOOSE THE CROSS OR CHOOSE THE CUTLASS.  Choose the cross of choose the cyclone.  CHOOSE THE CROSS OR CHOOSE THE CUTTER.  Choose the cross or choose the cycle.  CHOOSE THE CROSS OR CHOOSE THE SCEPTRE.  Does one choose this?  Is this a choice one makes?  Or does God make the choice?  Does God make the mechanism in which the choice appears as a choice but which is, in fact, the cycle?  The nature of the Law?  LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  Go inside!  WHAT?  Go inside!  LOOK AT THE OLD WOMAN!  LOOK AT HER FACE!  Let's go back in.  A DOOR.  A MEMORY OF THE AIRPLANE.  Bow ring.  BEAU INK.  18.  YES, LET'S GO IN.  Door opening.  Warmth.  A kind of warm womb.  Did yor hear that voice, Truman?  WHAT?  Did you hear that voice?  WHICH VOICE?  The one that told me to betray Crossmann?  NO.  No?  ARE YOU THE VOICE INSIDE THE VOICE?  I don't know.  I HAVE CHOSEN YOU!  Me?  Me for what?  FOR YOU TO BETRAY HIM, SADUJ!  Lost.  MOTHER!  FORGIVE ME!  FOR TAKING SO MANY LIVES!  Love.  LN LN LN LN.  FORGIVE ME.   12 plus 14 equal 26.  LOST.  LAST.  LOVE.  Last love of a choirboy.  LESLIE LESLIE LESLIE.  RHODES.  LESLIE RHODES.  LAST.  LOVED.  LOST.  LURID LUCK.

 

                       

 

Ox goad.  YES.  THE WOMAN.  The goad, the rope, the scepter.  YES.  NAMOW.  Luck.  MOVE THE MOUNTAIN; MAKE MOHAMMED COME TO THE MOUNTAIN.  Em Em Em.  SEE.  Learn, study, teach.  MOVE, GENERATE, EXPAND.  Extend, interdict, oppose.  SCEPTRE.  In the direction of.  THE PLAIN JURIST.  A man named Satan.  WHAT?  A man named Natas.  DEMAL.  What?  A MAN NAMED SATAM.  Matas.  WHERE DID THEY GO?  Inside.  HE HAD A NIGGARDLY LOOK, AN INSANE SMILE ON HIS FACE.  Which one?  THE ONE IS DISGUISE.  The look of a coward, hiding inside a suit.  YES, A DISGUISE.  I think it is not a disguise.  WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?  The Arab, you mean.  YES.  Watch him closely.  He means to do us harm.  I SEE.  Waters and Chaos.  WHAT?  Memory is chosen.  NOT CHOSEN.  Memory is an imposition against action.  WHEN MEMORY RETURNS, ACTION IS DEFEATED.  Mementos of the harp.  PHAR AWAY THE WIND BEGINS TO BLOW.  Was that thunder?  OR WAS IT LIGHTNING?  The ore 'dor opens through heat.  HEAR THAT SOUND, THAT EXPLOSION!  What was it?  GOD'S UNBLANCHING HAMMER.  Talk not about Thursday's green blessing.  SSH!  SHE IS LOOKING AT US AGAIN.  Mammary branch and the Tree of Continued Living.  NEAR THE ROOT.  The man who has no roots is lost.  THE MAN WHO KNOWS NOT AND TRESURES NOT HIS ROOTS IS LOST.  Worse even more for the woman with no roots. For the woman is the root.  Man is allowed to travel and fall.  But the woman without roots is a Namibian whore or dragon.  SILENCE!   What?  SILENCE!  Emma is on her high horse again.  EMMA goes forward and backward, always protecting the son of God.  EXCEPT ON JULY 16, WHEN SHE HAS TO TAKE A REST.  So, on July 16, the son of God is vulneerable to attack by the air.  PRECISELY.  And what of September 11?  QUICK, CALL 911.  YOU ARE CALLING 911.  Emergency?  Is that what you are saying?  9 PLUS 11 IS 20.  9 PLUS 1 PLUS 1 IS 11.  Eleven eleven..  ROLL THE DICE AGAIN.  Emma becomes Anna.  ANNA ALSO COMES AND GOES, MOVING IN BOTH DIRECTIONS AT ONCE.  Anna Nina Nani means the Greek goddess Grace.  CHALDEAN FOR HEAVEN.  Anna is the Heaven; and Emma is the Hell.  EACH PROTECTING THE SON OF GOD.  MOTHER OF MARY.  Waters flow and waters grow.  M-M-MICHAEL, MITICULOUS MICHAEL, MERITOR OF MERCURY, MAGNIFIED OF METATRON.  Poor Amlode, not knowing what he did and all.  I'M LETH ABLE TO UNDERTHAND THOSE LATH ALLUSIONS, CARPENTER.  Water running in both directions at once?  Is this some kind of riddle?  DO THESE WOMEN BECOME EMBLEMS OF THE UNIVERSE AND THE ANTI-UNIVERSE, TWO RIVERS FLOWING IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS?  Questions, questions -- what was that noise?  DEAD ALL US AT ELEVEN?  Flight of the ancient southern cross.  HITLER AND SCEPTRE ALMOST RHYME.  See how Namo stands at his side, almost nameless.  NAN IS HOLDING HIS HAND AGAIN, OLD WITCH.  Watch out!  Don't look her in the eye!  NANA SHINES ON HIS BONES LIKE SOME BEWITCHMENT, WHISPERING IN HIS EAR.  What does she tell him?  SHE SPEAKS IN A VOICE OF SILENCE -- SO WE CANNOT HEAR.  Paranoia.  PAIR O' NOVA.  Novus homo.  VIRGO BLANCHES.  Dung night transmuted.  THERE MUST BE HEAT SOMEWHERE.  Rose is from the German meaning horse.  WHITE HORSE?  Damned inconvenience, I must say -- at this hour.  THE ROSE IS ONE THE CROSS, I FEAR.  Cross is on the Rose too, let us not forget.  EROTIC ROSARY YOU ARE SAYING IN YOUR BRAIN, WILLIAM.  Fault near here and fault near there.  I CONFESS TO THIS.  You are no saint, you!  NEIN, AS THE GERMANS ARE FOUND OF SAYING.   EIGHT PLUS ONE IS NEIN.  Nein is Yes in the other world, lest we forget.  ROSE IS FOLLOWING THE CROSS TOO.  I CAN SMELL THE PURFUME SHE WORE TONIGHT.  Ahh, sure a sweet smell of youth.  ROSE OF CHARON, COMING IN HIS BOAT.  Conflagration on his mind.  ROCK ROSE, STANDING NEAR OUR SAVIOR.  December 16 flower of his birth.  DAY OR NIGHT?  Symbolic of sense.  ELLE AND ALL HER PRODUCTIONS FROM ETERNITE.  Ambiguous nomenclature.  YOUR FINGER IS TURNING BLUE, MAN!  Erotic thoughts again, Friar Skin Tucker?  OTTO OTTO OTTO, GRANDFATHER OF SOUND.  If a menstrous woman mounts a horse, it will die or become diseased.  MOTHER SEED ROOT.  MEMSOOTH.  Saturn's clattering truth monster.  MEMING MOST OF ALL, I FEAR.  Sagittarean and all.  SATYR INSIDE THE YOUNG GIRL'S SOU.  Silk purse.  MEM NON AND MEM KNEW.  Mem's Fist: Pyramid builders.  AHH.  13 being an unlucky ending.  TWO 13'S BEING WHAT?  26.  YES.  BUT WHAT ELSE?  The place where the Universe and the Anti-Universe meet.  QUICK, DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!

 

                       

 

 

Mem is the word.  LOOSE QUIPS BRINK FLIPS.  Floose paps drink pink pips.  FAULKNER IS ON THE RUB AGAIN.  On the rum agib?  On the run, A...A...Agrippa?  YES.    Achille's fiend.  Feet First Makes For Blood On the Brain.  YES.  Note how the four convergin arrows constitute a cross at the center of the flower.

 

                                                           

 

WHOM DO WE HAVE TO THANK FOR THIS?  For the falling ash, you mean?  COLORING THE SNOW GREY.  Is there a volcano near here?  SERIOUSLY!  Thor lives up on that mountain there, Mister Iron Cross!  CROZIER'S BLUSTERING ROSIER MUSKETRY.  Gallow's Rumor.  ELVIS TAKING ON THE WHEEL.  FEELING HIMSELF THE HANGED MAN'S FRIEND.  NMN.  MNM.  HMM!  Meistersinger.  MAKE A PIECE OF THACKERY, PLEASE.  Iron Cross; Cross Iron

 

                                    .

 

MAGUS MAGUS.  MAKES A MARK.  Four by four.  FREQUENTER OF FORM.  Magus Magus.  MAKES A MANGER.  Two by two.  CALIBRATOR OF CALCINATION.  M is movement, water flowing; purification.  IS MOSES READING A BOOK OVER THERE?  Impurity is the confrontation with one's own mortaility when one believes there is no way out.  NO FUTURE.  Again, trapped in the present.  IN HEBREW, 'MI' OR 'MY' IN 'WHO?'  WHEN IT IS WRITTEN VERTICALLY, IT IS A THEOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION ADDRESSED TO GOD: 'WHO ARE YOU?'  WHEN IT IS WRITTEN HORIZONTALLY, IT IS A ANTHROPOLOGICAL QUESTION: 'WHO ARE YOU, WHAT PERSON ARE YOU, WHERE ARE YOUR ROOTS?'  THE EVOLUTION OF THE LETTER FROM VERTICAL TO HORIZONTAL AND THEN FROM HORIZONTAL TO VERTICAL IS A QUESTION ADDRESSED TO IDENTIY AND REALITY.  ALSO, IT IS A SIGN OF LIFE'S MOMENTUM.  The horizontal, the East-West axis, is anthropological, right to left.  The vertical, the North-South axis, is theological, head to toe.  WHO ARE THE BARBARIANS?  The White God and the Black God.  The God of Life and the God of Death.  13 PLUS 13.  M is the unconscious mind, the great ocean, the original mirror, reflecting the self and the world.  THE MIDPOINT.  Tiamat.  PRIMEVAL CHAOS.  Enki iknE.  ASHERAH HAREHSA.  Ashtar is the son of Asherah, fresh water, underground water, the spirit of irrigation.  YAMM YAMM.  Mmay Mmay.  GOD OF THE DEEP SEA.  God of the Deep.  TIAMAT TAMAIT.  What was that sound?  It sounded like a bomb going off?  THUNDER THOR ROTH REDNUHT.  Roth Rednut?  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?  AND WHY ARE WE HERE IN THE SNOW STUDYING THIS MIASMA?  THE ORIGIN OF LETTERS.  The splitting of the atom.  WHAT?  The splitting of the atom.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS.  The snake in the water.  WHAT?  She is looking over here again.  WHAT DOES SHE REPRESENT?  The snake in the water.  HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS.  Feminine form; the letter N.  MEM is the Hagned Man, Number 29.  N is Death, number 28.  OSAMA BIN LADEN.  OBL.  ALSO 29.

 

15

O

2

B

12

L

 

 

29

 

 

Where does this come from?  29 MEANS 'IS BROKEN', TO 'BREAK DOWN, OVERTURN'.

 

4

D

Is broken'

 

20

K

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

to break down, overturn'

4

D

 

 

 

20

K

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?  DID YOU HEAR IT?  AND IS THAT SMOKE OVER THERE, OFF TO THE SOUTH?  Add 1 through 29 and we get number 435. 

 

5

H

Deceived'

400

Th

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

435

 

 

 

 

IN ENGLISH, 'OBL' IS 29.  IN HEBREW IT IS '102'.  102 IS BA'AL, BELA, A KING OF EDOM.  A WILD GOAT OF A MAN. 

 

2

B

70

a'a

30

L

 

 

102

 

 

What is this all about?  I thought we meant to pray here this night?  BELA -- DID YOU SAY BELIAL?  I think he did.  YOU REMEMBER THAT MYKAL THE ARCHANGEL'S NUMBER, IN HEBREW, IS 101.  Yes.  WHY THESE LETTERS AND NUMBERS?  ARE WE HERE TO MODIFY OURSELVES THROUGH PRAYER?  OR TO BLASPHEME FAITH THROUGH MYSTICAL FATALITY?  Blaspheme faith?  Rather to elevate faith by providing faith with unbreakable pillars of support.  I HEAR SIRENS OUTSIDE?  ARE THE POLICE COMING TO GET US?  N is the snake, the water snake, or the fish.  NUN IS THE WORD.  Sister Mary Olive.  SISTERNS OF LORETTO.  Hidden in the rubble.  THE SEASNAKE HIDING IN THE DEEPEST POOL.  N hidden inside of M.  HOA BEING WHAT?  What?  STEALING THE PLANT FROM GILGAMESH.  Hidden depths cannot be seen.  LOOK AT THE OLD WOMAN.  She is a nun too, isn't she?  A type of nun.  NUN.  Nunsense.  She was a married woman.  She calls herself a priest.  A High Priest, at that.

 

                       

 

WHAT DOES MOSES SAY OF THIS?  Moishe.  YES, MOSES.  WHAT DOES HE SAY?  Hidden, intimate, feminine, a place where one can hide.  MOUNTAIN CAVES OF AFGHANISTAN.  See the enemy's face.  BRINGING DOOM INTO HIS HOUSE.  Fish, fetus in the fetal sac; spark, life, forthcoming birth, infant; growth, production, product, advent; to grow, to open, to push, to twist.  NUNCY DREW.  Nuntucket sleigh ride.  N HIDDEN IN THE M; FISH HIDDEN IN THE WATER.  Snake hidden in the mountains of Afghanistan.  WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?  IT SOUNDED LIKE A BOMB WENT OFF!  DO YOU HEAR SIRENS OFF TO THE SOUTH?  Remember, the World Trade Center was bombed tonight.  OH, YES.  I REMEMBER.  Don't worry about it.  We are safe.  WHAT ABOUT OUR GRANDCHILDREN?  I don't know.  I don't know.  THE N IS HIDDEN IN THE M.  NINA IS HIDDEN INSIDE OF MICHAEL.  Fourteen Manus.  Fourteen Manus.  FIFTY COMPLICATIONS.  FIFTY COMPLICATIONS.  What is all this talk about bin Laden?  IN HEBREW GEMATRIA, BIN LADEN IS 324.

 

70

O

60

S

1

A

40

M

1

A

 

 

2

B

10

I

50

N

 

 

30

L

1

A

4

D

5

E

50

N

 

 

324

 

 

324 IS 18 SQUARED.  18 IS THE BELOVED; BUT IT IS ALSO HATRED; AND THE ANTIQUE SERPENT.

 

1

A

My Beloved

 

5

H

 

 

 

2

B

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

Hatred

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

2

B

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8

Ch

The Antique Serpent

9

T

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18

 

 

 

 

 

IN ENGLISH GEMATRIA, OSMAMA BIN LADEN IS THE NUMBER 110.  110 IS THE NUMBER PRIOR TO 111.  110 IS DMYVN, RESEMBLANCE OR LIKENESS; IT IS ALSO YMYN, THE END OF DAYS.

 

15

O

19

S

1

A

13

M

1

A

 

 

2

B

9

I

14

N

 

 

12

L

1

A

4

D

5

E

14

N

 

 

110

 

 

4

D

Likeness, resemblance

40

M

 

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

110

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10

Y

The end of days

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

110

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANTI-CHRIST?  Resemblance, likeness: is that not the mirror?  EACH IS EACH TO EACH.  Facing down.  RIGHT AND LEFT.  Over and out.

 

13

M

9

i

3

c

8

h

1

a

5

e

12

l

 

 

10

J

15

o

8

h

14

n

 

 

3

C

18

r

15

o

19

s

19

s

13

m

1

a

14

n

14

n

 

 

214

 

 

214 IS WHAT?  214 is ZZR, the Angel of Aries; 214 is also 'whiteness', 'Air, Spirit, Wind and Mind'; and 'Came Down' (from Heaven).

 

8

Ch

Whiteness

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

200

R

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

214

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

200

R

Air, Spirit, Wind, Mind

6

V

 

 

 

 

8

Ch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

214

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10

Y

Came Down

 

 

200

R

 

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

214

 

 

 

 

 

 

'MICHAEL J. CROSSMANN' is 177.  AND 177 IS 'DOMINUS DOMINORUM' -- THE 'MASTER OF MASTERS'; ALSO 'THE GARDEN OF EDEN'; 'TO CRY OUT FOR HELP'; 'THE ANGEL OF CAPRICORN'; AND 'PLENITUDE OF PLENITUDES'.

 

1

A

Dominus Dominorum

4

D

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

177

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

G

Garden of Eden

 

50

N

 

 

 

70

a'a

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

177

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7

Z

To Cry Out For Help

70

a'a

 

 

 

100

Q

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

177

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

40

M

Plenitude of Plenitudes

30

L

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

177

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN OUR CONSCIOUSNESS?  HAS SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENED?  What was that Arab talking about?  That Faramarz?  What about that plane?  What about hi-jacking?  WHAT HAS CROSSMANN TO DO WITH THIS BIN LADEN?  This suggests that Crossmann is 'whiteness' or 'spirit' -- the master of masters -- who was present in the Garden of Eden but who heard a cry for help and came down out of Heaven here to Earth.  TO BE WITH US DURING OUR SUFFERING.  Metatron in English gematria is 106; as is the letter Nun in Hebrew.  THE HIDDEN DEPTHS THAT CANNOT BE KNOWN.  Except in dreams.

 

13

M

5

E

20

T

1

A

20

T

18

R

15

O

14

N

 

 

106

 

 

 

50

N

6

V

50

N

 

 

106

 

 

WHAT WE DON'T KNOW DOES HURT US.  Can hurt us.  YES, CAN HURT US.  What don't we know?  WE ARE HERE TO LEARN MORE OF THIS.  TO SEE THE FUTURE MORE CLEARLY.  Is this some vision quest then?  SOMETHING OTHER THAN THIS?  There are 89 chapters in the Four Gospels and 22 chapters in Revelation.  89 plus 22 equals 111.  SANCTIFICATION OF THE CRUEL, YOU MEAN?  What did he mean, talking about the empire?  WHAT EMPIRE?  The Islamic Empire.  I DIDN'T HEAR HIM SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THAT.  There are two doors: behind one is the Lady; behind the other is the tiger.  YES.  Which will he choose?  TIME BEING WHAT IT IS, WILL HE CHOOSE BOTH?  I wonder.  WHAT WE DON'T KNOW CAN SAVE US TOO.  Knowing too much is a problem -- is that what you are saying?  PERHAPS. 

 

              

 

Oh, yes.  OTTO.  Omicron.  OHM.  OHM.  Indian electrical scientist.  THE SOUND THAT ROCKED THE WORLD.  OHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.  OOO OF GIOTTO.  Air rushing in through the window.  Branch brushing on the glass.  Tiph.  Tiph.  FIRE, INSTEAD.  A woman sitting at a desk, working, is incinerated at her desk.  A fresh face.  A beautiful girl.  Fried in a second.  WHAT?  WHAT?  Where did that come from?  Windows breaking.  Steel snapping.  I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT!  Get this plane back in the air, Sirrah.  ATTA BOY!  NICE AND EASY ON THE STICK, AIM IT DOWN THE ROAD.  IT'S JUST LIKE DRIVING A CAR.  They eye is the manager of the soul.  EYE IN MOTION; HAMMER IN THE OCEAN.  Thor's unrelieving misnomer.  ZEUS'S DAY.  Car-load of metaphor.  TT, TA TA.  TA TA, ATTA.  Hammering out some radio of discomfort.  CULTURAL ARTIFACT.  Dead babies on a frieze.  A gothic cathdral left in the ruins.  GOD.  GOD IS HERE.  Where is Metatron?  METATRON IS NEAR.  Om.  Om.  Aum.  OLIVE PRESS.  OLIVE OIL.  28 or 35.  7 TIMES 4 AND 7 TIMES 5.  What does that tell us?  7 IS THE COMMON NUMBER.  Common or uncommon.  SHE IS LOOKING OVER HERE AGAIN.  We aren't doing anything wrong.  SHE DOESN'T LIKE US.  I'M SURE OF THAT.  It's because of what you are thinking. 

 

                                   

 

ATOMIC CIRCUITRY.  ATOMIC CIRCUITRY.  Time is running out.  CROSSMANN HAS A ROOM AT THE MILLENNIUM HOTEL.  The eye implies light.  OX.  OX.  Holy Ghost in the eye, gazing at a spinning globe.  OHMYGOD!  OHMYGOD!  HERE COMES THE SECOND PLANE!  LOOK OUT!  What?  WASN'T THAT A CHILD'S VOICE?  A little girl's voice?  WHO IS DOING THAT?  NilreM, perhaps.  MERLIN, SPAHREP?  The man and his mirror.  GOD AND HIS MIRROR, MAN.  Perhaps you are getting somewhere.  A SPINNING ADAM.  A spinning Adam Kadmon.  EARTH.  Wobbling a bit.  An atom.  Quartered and round.  OBITUARY.  OBIT.  Orbit.  Cycle.  SICKLE.  Grim Reaper walking on clouds.  NINE.  What?  CLOUD NINE.  Consult consult.  DUALITY OUT OF ZERO.  What?  ROSH HOSHANNA.  What?  MOVING FROM THE IN TO THE OUT, FROM THE INVISIBLE TO THE VISIBLE.  OUT IN TO THE SUN.  FROM THE MURKY DEPTHS.  From the murky depths of M and N.  The fish walking on land again, developing eyes, because of the light.  Where there is no light there are ears, the eyes of the night.  WHEN THE SUN CREATES THE LIGHT, CREATES THE EYES, THE EARS BECOME SECONDARY.  Yet the ears are eternal; the eyes only periodical.  RISING OUT OF THE WATER.  The water source.  LIKE LEVIATHEN.  Inter-office agency.  Don't forget to turn out the lights when you leave the room.  MEMORANDUM.  Occulturation.  Occulturivity.  A SUBTERRANEAN FOUNTAIN APPEARS OUT OF THE DARK EARTH, COMING OUT OF AN OAK TREE, FLOWING INTO SUNLIGHT.  And most of the world cannot see this fountain, the magic water-milk of life.  DA.  Oy vay.  FLICKANNELLI PONDERING THE GREEN RISING INTO THE RED.  Black into white into green into red.  I SEE.  Yes.  You do see.  AYE, IN TRIPLICATE.  Seeing in cycles  EAST-WEST SPINNING COUNTER-CLOCKWISE.  NORTH-SOUTH SPINNING, INSTEAD, WITH THE CLOCK.  That is the atom, you describe, clever southerner.  FAULKNER'S IMBARCADERO.  Have another swig.  Grow every closer to the man and his famous horses.  REVELATION.  I SEE A REVELATION.  Like a fireball in the sky.  TWO FIREBALLS.  Don't get personal!  THE KILLER, THE KKKKILLER, THE KKKKKKKILLER.  The killer had a rosebud too -- did he not.  O O O O.  OCTOBER SKY.  OCTOBER RUIN.  In't it time for you to play jurist, again?  MULTIPLICITY.  More than one.  More than one is seventy: seventy eyes.  The monster's ungrooming thing.  THE VISIBLE -NVISIBLE PARADIGM  IS THE NORTH-SOUTH PARADIGM.  THE SEEING-HEARING PARADIGM IS THE EAST-WEST PARADIGM.  As if you didn't know that, Attorney Brink.  EYE, SPRING. APPARITION, MULTICIPLICITY, RESEMBLANCE; TO LOOK TO EXAMINE, TO READ.  Ahh, Thomas Mann blesses you.  THOMAS CROSSMANN.  ANGRY CROSSMANN.  LOOK AT HIS FACE?  ARE THOSE TEARS I SEE?  Who led Crossmann down into the basement again -- what was his name?  VOLCANELLI, WAS IT?  VOLCANELLI ENTERS THE ROOM.  LOOKING FOR THE CORNERSTONE.  THE BLACKENED FACE OF THE OBLONG NEDAL.  Is that pond, itself, the entrance to Hell?  VOCAL NELLIE WILL NOT TELL.  Not abruptly at least.    YES, NOT ABRUPTLY.  Savage night being where the seed can rest, down in the soil, far from the Sun.  THE PROCESSES.  Nellie Bly; Nellie Fly.  Nellie Cry; Nellie Die.  THAT IS A NUMBER.  Please don't tell me.  DO YOU SMELL SOMETHING BURNING?  Flesh, isn't it?  DOVES BURNING?  Perhaps.  LETTERS BURNING?  I - M - A - G - I - N - E  T - H - E - R - E - ' S  N - O  C - O - U - N - T - R - Y.  Duck!  Duck, John!  No!  Here, give me your hand!  Damned Salinger!  Damned pirate of youth!  GREAT FIREBALLS OF FIRE!  Day and Night.  TRUE FOE.  Day For Night.  COCK'S COMB.  Looking in to the mirror.  MICHAEL JOHN NICODAMUS.  Michael John Nosferatu.  MICHAEL JOHN NOSTRADAMUS.  Born December 14.  YES.  Nick O'Demons.  STARING INTO WATER TO SEE.  Billious and boiled and brutalized.  THE MATCH.  George Bellows.  AHH!  GREAT MAN!  Staring into the Oval, the O, the void.  WHAT SAYS HE NOW -- THE GREAT DRUNKARD?  As I Lay Dying, Mister Sutpen -- I hear only the sound and the fury of nothingness blowing in my earth.  Listen to me now describe a unified land.  IN THE SWAMP?  Non-swamp: a Pentagon.  Five-sided mentor of the stars.  With a crushed side.  Like Crossmann was crushed in the side by that man's knife, that man's spear.  Kit Carson's traveling spear.  SSSSHHH!  DON'T SAY THAT TOO LOUD!  YOU MIGHT WAKE HIM!  What we learned from the death of communism, Pete, is that the left wing can't create; it can only criticize.  THE MIDDLE PRINCIPLE CREATES.  IT CREATES BOTH THE BODY AND THE ANTI-BODY.  IS THAT NOT SO?  BOTH THE BUILDER AND THE CRITIC OF THE BUILDING.  What's he doing back out here?  WHERE'S YOUR FRIEND?  What?  Oh, he's inside.  He's going a bit mad; perhaps he has celebrated with too much drink.  He's inside laughing wildly.  I can't get him to stop laughing.  AND YOU?  What about me?  WHY ARE YOU BACK OUT HERE?  I have come to make Crossmann an offer.  He's going to need some office space, from which to run his trading company, CGTS.  I have some space in the World Trade Center I can lease to him.  A very nice space, with a lovely view of the city, overlooking the river, just a modest jog to the Windows on the World should he get hungry.  SSHHH!  Oh, oh!  Look at her!  She really hates us, doesn't she!  SILENCE!  There is to be no talk of rentals here!  CGTS -- OR CGAT?  I don't think he's decided.  GENETIC METHOD OF DISCOVERY.  Jean Genetic?  SHH, BILL.  DON'T GIVE US ANY MORE OF YOUR SECRETS TONIGHT!  SILENCE IS THE BETTER PART OF VALOR.  Has the cock crowed yet?  I AM GOING TO BE WORKING ON HIS INAUGURATION SPEECH LATER THIS MORNING.  I AM GOING TO INSIST HE DEVOTE AT LEAST SOME TIME TO THE QUESTION OF CLASS, TO THE PLIGHT OF THE POOR.  Rock being rock.  WHITE ROCK BEING WHITE ROCK.  And the black rock being what?  On which the devil's face has been etched?  THE CORNER STONE?  UPON WHICH THE ENTIRE EDIFICE IS ERECTED?  The white rock being banged against the black rock produces sparks, light.  INSIDE THE MIND.  Urim and thummim.  URINE AND CUMMINGS.  PLACED BEFORE A FIRE.  Up and coming so and so.  URBAN DRUMMING COCAMO.  I think I can hear them: the men beating the drums.  I does not sound so far away.  IS THAT SMOKE?  WHAT IS THAT AWFUL SMELL?  It smells the like stench of human flesh frying.  Humans cast into the flame.  CAST BY DEMONS?  Yes, if you swill.  SHE'S LOOKING BACK HERE AGAIN.  She wants to build him out of the methods of her matter.  PULPIT OF AN OLD WORK-WOMAN.  Manniken of a wombder-workering mama-san.  IS THAT A RACIST COMMENT!  What?  THERE IS TO BE NO TALK OF MENTALS HERE?  No talk of dentals?  AND NO TALK OF METALS?  Sshh!  Metals are allowed.  OH, BUT NOT DENTALS!  Anti-dentite!  I believe she's an anti-dentite!  I KNEW WE COULD FLUSH HER OUT.  SINFUL NATURE OF HATE.  Mouthing a tooth full of hurt.  SHH!  SHE'S LOOKING!  Shit, I have to pee.  FORSOOTH OF WHAT?  She's smiling.  WHAT!  Look, she's smiling at us.   RIGHT ANGLES OF TEETH.  False teeth?  NO.  REEL.  Speak Eat Breathe.  HOW FAST CAN YOU DRAW?  Draw in my breath?  DRAW IN THE SNOW?  Snow us.

 

 

                       

 

IS THIS MONTAGE, MON FRERE?  O'z Etage Unis.  THE MOUTH BELOW.  What do you mean -- the mouth below?  PANDORA PIXYS.  What?  ROSEBUD.  Briseis.  Aphrodite's Apple. OH.  You build material into your work, weaving it all together in a network.  Foreign material.   Foreign to you.  YOU SPEAK FREELY NOW?  Yes.  IN AND OUT.  IN AND OUT.  Don't get so excited.  TELLING ME WHAT TO DO.  Diamond House's Lotta Lena's Velvet Vagina.  YOU"D BETTER HURRY.  IT'S STARTING TO MELT.  What is?  THE MOUTH BELOW.  Telling me what?  WHAT THE HELL DID HE SAY ABOUT THE WORLD TRADE CENTER?  Leasing Crossmann an office.  FOR WHAT?  Foreign trade.  WHAT ABOUT FOREIGN TRADE?  I didn't hear what he said.  SOMETHING ABOUT CGAT.  Genetic structure?  YES.  I GUESS.  SOMETHING ABOUT....CLONING.  To disengage, to evacuate, to exhale; an orifice, opening, exit, female genitalia; speech, content, breathing; split, gap; orally-transmitted memory; the oral law; reading, interpretation; hermeneutics.  IS THAT MOSES AGAIN?  Moishe.  WHO?  Moishe.  Moishe Frank.  WHERE THE HELL IS GINSBERG NOW?  I can't smell him.  HE CHANGES INTO MOSES THE RIGHTEOUS THE SAME WAY THAT OUR FRIEND STYRON HERE CHANGES INTO FAULKNER.  I can't smell him.  WHAT?  The corner stone.  I can't smell the corner-stone.  PETER BUILDS, PUTTING THE DEVIL'S HEAD ON THE CORNER-STONE, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PILE.  Is he the Great Genius, then?  WHO?  PETER?  OR DO YOU MEAN THE DEVIL?  He means Crossmann, of course.  THE MOUTH THAT ROARED.  Cosellali.  WHAT?  Careful -- it's going to melt.  PPOT.  YELLOW SNOW.  Jaune Bisque; Brun Bouillibaise.  WORDS ARE ATOMS.  ISN'T THAT WHAT HE'S SAYING -- OUR FRIEND MOISHE?  WORDS ARE ATOMS.  VOWELLS ARE THE NUCLEUS.  CONSONANTS ARE THE ELECTRONS.  The leptons, you mean.  THAT IS A METAPHOR, YES.  THIS IS LIKE THAT.  We build words the same way atoms build matter into structure and meaning.  IS THAT WHY WE ARE HAVING TO ENDURE THIS MONUMENTAL BORE?  It could be worse.  It could be Ginsberg -- or, even worse, that svelte bee.  SSH!  DON"T MENTION HER NAME.  Did I?  HER MOUTH IS MOVING.  What's new?  SHE'S WHISPERING SOMETHING TO HIM.  What's new?  SHE'S MAKING HIM HER APOLLO.  What's new?  SHE'S TELLING HIM TO IGNORE THE SMOKE.  Is that what she's saying?  I THOUGHT SHE WAS BUILDING HIS SWORD.  We can't know from here.  The sound of her voice does not carry this far.  I DON'T THINK SHE WANTS US TO HEAR HER.  He's drawing again.  HE'S DRAWING FAST.

 

                                   

 

Is that the atom he's drawing?  LEPTONS, LEPTONS, WHO NAMES THE LEPTONS.  Heaven and Earth.  All souls reflected.  SO WHERE ARE THE ANTI-GODS, THE ANTI-ANGELS, THE ANTI-MEN?  In the Anti-Universe, of course -- where black is white and death is good and disease is friendly and life is evil.  HADES, YOU SAY?  Where death is life.  Where water is evil.  IS THERE ANTI-WATER THEN?  There must be, according to principle.  DESERT-DWELLERS?  DESERT-DWELLERS HATE WATER.  THEY HATE WOMEN.  THEY HATE THE JEW.  THEY HATE THE EARTH.  THAT IS WHY THEY ARE SO DRY?  Hatred is a fire that burns all water up.  THEY SAY GOD IS A CONSUMING FIRE.  They say, too, the Devil lives in the Fire.  IT IS A FLOWER.  THE ATOM IS A FLOWER.  And the flower grows not without water.  GROWS NOT.  Some plants thrive in the night; shrink in the sunlight.  SOME CULTURES ALSO.  Moon-instructed.  Sun-hating.  PICASSO.  PASCAL.  PANTOMIME.  PUSSY WILLOW.  Is that a rosebud he has drawn?  THE ATOM IS A ROSEBUD?  WHAT A QUAINT IDEA?  Queer fellow.  So full of strange beliefs.  WILL YOU FOLLOW HIM THEN?  Where, to Calvary?  TO HELIOPOLOS?  To Kabul?  TO EUGENE?  Down to some bombed-out ruins?  TO THE COURT OF JUDGE BRINK?  What are you asking?  Will I devote my life to spreading his truths?  I will write articles in journals.  I WILL CONVENE A PANEL OF EXPERTS TO DISCUSS HIS GREAT GENIUS.  There is that phrase again: Great Genius!   MABUS, PERHAPS?  Sabine, perchance.  THE HATER OF THE EXISTING.  He who hates wealth and demands its destruction does not understand God's plan.  When there is summer in the North, there is wealth given by Nature.  When there is summer in the North, there is winter in the south.  When it is winter in the north, there is summer in the south.  Nature gives bounty during the summer.  And death during the winter.  When it is day in the East, it is night in the West.  When it is night in the East, it is day in the West.  GOD BRINGS EVERYTHING ACCORDING TO HIS PLAN.  AND HIS PLAN IS THE BALANCE.  There are those who hate this plan.  YES.  SOME HATE THE PLAN.  Many do not see this plan.  MORALISM IS A LACK OF VISION.  If you find yourself hating anything, you are not seeing the plan.  You are trapped in the duality of Universe against Anti-Universe.  WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?  IT SOUNDED LIKE SOMETHING COLLAPSED!  Something large.  DO YOU HEAR THAT SIREN?  They are coming for us.   I DREAMED I SAW A CROSS THAT LOOKED JUST LIKE AN AIRPLANE.  ONE, TWO, THREE AND FOUR.  I SAW A BLACK HAND ON THE CROSS.  A BLACK HAND ON AHAB'S HELM.  Aye, DID ISHMAEL PUT HIS HAND ON THE HELM?

 

                                   

 

 

Islamic Nation Rains Injustice.  Iran's Neighbor Re-Named Infamy.  KABUL.  God bless you.  BLAKU.  Good and tight.  BOSE RUD ON GAY.  BOSE RUD ON GAY.  Rose Rud on?  ENOLA GAY.  ENOLA GAY.  The fire is no man's friend today.  QUEER QUEST QUIETS QUEEN.  Quiessent Quartermaster Queries Quakers.  WHERE IS YOUR RESOLVE TO FIGHT EVIL?  They do not know.  BETTER TO LIVE IN SILENT NIGHT, HOLY NIGHT, THEY SAY.  The bell is tolling.  WE SHOULD GO INSIDE.  What?  WE SHOULD GO INSIDE.  Typical liberal response.  When a discussion degenerates into an argument, the liberals go inside.  THE GREEK IDEAL OF MAN WAS A THINKER, A POET, A SCIENTIST AND A SOLDIER.  Archetypal Man.  THIS AND THAT.  Capable of all things, great and small.  IT IS NOT SMALL TO DEFEND ONE'S COUNTRY.  Oscar Wilde said.  DON'T GIVE ME THAT SUPERCILIOUS DEFENSE OF YOUR OWN COWARDICE.  We should go inside.  TWO DOORS: BEHIND ONE IS A WOMAN; BEHIND THE OTHER IS A TIGER.  WHICH WILL YOU CHOOSE?  Two doors: behind one is a cross; behing the second in a sword.  Which will you choose?  THE GREEK EPITOME WOULD CHOOSE A SWORD AND A CROSS.  Epitome that we are.  EPITAPH TOME.  WRITE ON MY HEADSTONE: HE TRIED TO LIVE LIKE A GREEK.  Like a Geek?  NO, BILL.  LIKE A GREEK.  Like Plato, then?  Like Plato, the mystic soldier?  YES.  GIVE ME A GUN.  I'LL PROTECT THE MOTHERLAND.  Ozuma been baden-badened.  SEND THEM TO RIGA.  Send them to Lubak.  In the Autumn man meets his dark enemy.  In the Spring man meets his female salvation.  ONE LEADS INTO LIGHT AND LIFE; ONE LEADS INTO DEATH AND DARKNESS.  Laurel laurel answer me true.  Laurel laurel give me your dew.  BEADS ON THE FLOWER.  WATER IS NEW.  Has it stopped snowing then?  WE SHOULD GO INSIDE.  I AM NOT GOING TO FIGHT IN SOME WAR.  I WILL NOT FOLLOW HIM WITH A GUN.  That is your choice.  WHEN COMMUNISM FELL, THE EAST-WEST PARADIGM GAVE WAY TO THE NORTH-SOUTH PARADIGM.  Europe is trembling.  EUROPE HAS SWUNG TO THE RIGHT ALSO.  IT KNOWS WHAT IT HAS TO DO.  Crusade!  Are you speaking about a crusade?  DARK AGAINST LIGHT IS ALSO PREPARING.  Malsi has malice.  Malice has memories.  IN INDONESIA, OVER ONE THOUSAND CHRISTIANS HAVE BEEN KILLED BY MUSLIMS IN THE LAST YEAR.  Yes.  GOD IS BECOMING ANGRY.  Yes.  THE GOD OF LIGHT IS SHARPENING HIS SWORD.  UNDERSTANDING THAT THE GOD OF THE DARK HAS A SWORD TOO.  I thought he said that the Armageddon had already happened!  That Michael had already vanquished the Darkness!  A NEW DARKNESS HAS APPEARED.  THE HISTORICAL PRINCIPLE OF DARKNESS.  From which perspective?  From which perspective is Islam the darkness?  FROM THE DAY-GOD'S PERSPECTIVE.  I thought Michael was going to be arrested, tried and crucified?  I thought that was the story?  TWO DOORS.  TWO DOOR-HANDLES.  Atomic focus.  OH, NO.  LET'S NOT GO THERE.  Please, no more air quotes.  No more been-dere-done-dat.  No more whatzzzzzzzzup.  SOBERNESS.  LET US BE SOBER.  THE PARTY IS DONE.  It is a horrifying vision you are bring toward us.  YES.  If someone were to attack us, then they would be the guilty parties -- but not all of Islam would be guilty.  YET THE KILL CHRISTIANS WHO ARE NOT GUILTY.  THEY KILL CHRISTIANS SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY ARE CHRISTIANS.  You are speaking about the destruction of the world.  IT IS NOT MY WILL.  IT IS GOD'S WILL.  Which God?  THE DAY-GOD, THE NIGHT-GOD.  Bosnia is spreading.  Bosnia is spreading.  AIQ BAKR.  AIQ BAKR.  111 + 111 + 111 = 333, which reduces to 9 (3 + 3 + 3).  AIQ BKR is the mysterious Kabbala of the Nine Chambers.  IF YOU REMEMBER HIS NOVEL, MICHAEL WAS BORN IN THE DEFENSE OF THE PREGNANT DAPHNA (ISRAEL) WHEN SHE WAS BEING THREATENED ALL AROUND BY DARKNESS.  Was that a photograph of the future then?  PERHAPS IT WAS.  The liberals are on the side of death, on the side of Jesus, of self-crucifixion.  The conservatives are on the side of Michael, on the side of life, on the side of self-protection.  OH, QUIESSENT QUERY.  Qabala Qone.  Establishing the merry facsimile.  OF WHAT?  Of the Quixotic Quest.  Qether and all. 

 

                                   

 

THEY ARE COMING!  I CAN HEAR THE SIRENS!  Queequeg's quandry.  QUAINT AND QUIET, QUI-ESSENCE'S QUOIN.  So, why do we sit here in the snow, listening to Moses explain the origin of the word?  WE SHOULD RUN.  Run where?  WE HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG.  Qof means Ape, verb and noun.  Qof means 'eye of the needle' and 'blade of the axe'.  THIS IS MAKING ME UNCOMFORTABLE.  Qofits means 'hatchet' or 'cleaver'.  Qafats means to 'slice' or to 'cut'; and, also, 'leaping', 'jumping', or 'closing'.  Qafa means 'to freeze', 'to petrify', 'to stagnate', 'to coagulate'.  YES, I UNDERSTAND THAT ONE.  Qofits, 'clever', is kopis in Greek.  Qof, 'ape', is kepos in Greek.  Gif, gof, or gouf in Egyptian.  Qofa in Aramaic.  Qapi in Hindi.  WHY DOES THIS QUEER LETTER DEMAND SO MUCH ATTEENTION?  The Greek koppa (Q) disappeared from classical Greek -- but it passed into Latin through the Etruscans.  QUITTER.  IF YOU LEAVE NOW, YOU ARE NOTHING LESS THAN A QUITTER.  Queer Quitter too.  I AM NOT LEAVING.  You said you were leaving.  I WAS JUST THINKING OUT LOUD.  That is funny -- thinking out loud.  YOU'RE TOO FAT TO PASS THROUGH THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE.  What?  YOU'RE TOO FAT.  With pleasure.  I HAVE LIVED AS I HAVE LIVED.  For pleasure.  FOR PLEASURE AND FOR PAIN, AS WE ALL DO.  FOR I AND FOR NOT-I.  You eat well.   You sleep well.  HAVE YOU NO GUILT FOR YOUR WEALTHY STATUS? Yes, have you?  HE WHO HATES WEALTH AND DEMANDS ITS DESTRUCTION.  Yes, we have heard your explanation.  JIM-JAMS.  YOU SEEM TO HAVE THE JIM-JAMS.  It is cold out here.  I THINK YOU HAVE THE GREAT MOTHER SHAKTI RUNNING DOWN YOUR SKELETON.  The have-nots sharpen their blades for you.  WHO LOVES HEAVEN MOST?  WHO LOVES GOD THE FATHER?  Q is a war club, is it not?  Q is a symbol of murder.

 

                       

 

AYE.  Qaa: to vomit.  It is not possible to do everything.  Unassimilability.  Qav: crutch.  Qavav: to curse, execrate, cover, shelter.  Qavats: gather together; assemble.   Separating the elements of a whole to create a specific part; delimitation and cutting.  Qavar: to bury.  Life is finished, limited, cut.  Qadoch: saint, holy.  Ain qedusha ela bemaqom havdala: There is no holiness except in a p;ace where there is separation.  Qadima: forward, onward; to separate; remove oneself from somewhere to go elsewhere.  Qava: to wait, to hope; to feel oneself separated from a tyime to come but, nevertheless, to create a link  with it: the dialectic of separation and reunion.  Qatsats: chop; cut down.  Quitub: polarization; separation and opposition of two elements.  Qatum: truncate.  Qataf: pick.  Qatuf: pick in haste.  Quetata:  dispute, altercation; two individuals who cannot agree.  Qatal: murder, kill, massacre; interrupt life.  Qata: cut, amputate.  Queta: piece, section, passage of text.  Qanah: to buy.  Qafats: to cut, to chop; to leap, to jump.  Qatsav: cut, trim, slice.  Qatsa: cut.  Qatsir: harvest.  Qara: to read, call, shout, appoint; to arrive (for an event).  Cutting off and separating a part from the whole.  The anonymous individual emerges from the mass to take a name; the event is remarkable because  it extricates everyday things from the mass.  Qerev: interior;  extremity.  Individual existence is cut off, separate from the outside world.  Qar: cold, freezing; stopping the process of life; interruption , arresting the continuity of time.  Qarush: frozen, fixed, iced, petrified.  Querah: ice; baldness.  Qarats: cut; pull out.  Qara: tear, cut.  APE, MONKEY, EYE OF THE NEEDLE.  CUT, SLICE, CHILL, FREEZE; INTERRUPT, SEPARATAE, TRUNCATE; SECTION; DIG, DIG A HOLE; IMITATE; EXCAVATE THE DEPTHS; TRANSMIT LIFE; KILL, BREAK; SHARP KNIFE, SWORD, SPLIT, BLADE, PICK, SHAVE, REDUCE; DIMINISH; THE PRESENT TIME, A MOMENT SEPARATED FROM THE FLOW OF TIME.  That boy is quite a reader.  DID YOU CATCH THE TITLE OF THAT BOOK HE IS READING FROM.  It has a brown paper cover.  QUEER FELLOW.  Qur'an.  NAROQ.  Seeming is believing.  ONE HUNDRED.  NUMBER ONE HUNDRED.  He writes, Crossmann, not only to create, but to be created.  YES, I SEE.  SELF-CREATION
THROUGH THE WORD.  A DANGEROUS DISEASE.  Quark Quark Quark, Mister Mark.  QUICKSILVER QUICKSAND.  Look at that smoke down south.  BILLOWING IN A QUAINT QUACOPHANY OF QUOINS.  Please, Bill; you sound ready for a nap.  QUARTER QUARTER QUARTER AND QUARTER -- GIVE THEM NONE.  Quintessence.  QUIESSENCE.  Quadrants.  QUOITS.  Quoids.  QUOTIENT.  Quimeny.  QUARREL.  Quimeny.  QUIM.  Quimeny.  Quizzling.  ELM OR FUDDY DUDDY?  Qimeny.  OH, THAT STENCH AGAIN.  A BUNDLE OF EXTREME UNCTION.  Punc Stream Auction.  HARDY HAR HAR.  HARDY HAR HAIR HAR.  Garbage heap.  Rubbage barge.  AYE -- TIE DYE!  AYE!  Who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the anchangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.  DO YOU THINK HE'S ACTUALLY SAYING SOMETHING?  That passage seemed to have some meaning -- oh, I mean beyond the 'poor me', the 'persecuted queer', the 'darling rebel artist misunderstood by the phillistine crowd' -- the anti-American jargon?  YOU SEE THE WORDS 'TIME' AND 'SPACE', 'ARCHANGEL', 'MILLENIUM' AND YOU ASSUME THAT THIS HAS MEANING FOR YOU.  'Elemental verbs' more likely; and 'good to eat a thousand years'.  HE IS INDULGING IN SOME MADNESS, THIS CROSSMANN -- IS HE NOT?  Patience, man.  The world has changed.  YOU CAN ARGUE UNTIL YOU ARE BLUE IN THE FACE ABOUT THE WONDERS OF THE COMMUNAL WAY; AND ABOUT THE DISEASE OF THE INDIVIDUAL .  IT IS JUST A PERCEPTION YOU TREASURE.  ONE THAT IS PASSING AWAY WITH EACH BREATH.  The wonders of the individual; the diseas of the communal.  WE SEE LESS THAN WE KNOW.  Yes.  WE HAVE FEWER SENSES THAN WE NEED, TO SEE EVERYTHING.  Yes.  YOU ARE AN OLD MAN CLINGING TO AN OLD WORLD, A VANISHING WORLD.  YOUR BITTERNESS AT THE NEW ONLY RESOUNDS AS YOUR CONTEMPT FOR LIFE, AS YOUR LONGING TO BE MOTHERED, AND FOLDED AGAIN INTO THE DARK, WHEN YOU ARE HIDDEN.  The folds in the sky are colored to the moon.  SURRENDIPITY STARS ARE MARRED.  By reality.  LETTERS UNSENT.  Her hand touching his, his white sheet turned tarry by the light.  LETTER IN HER POCKET.  Double your pleasure, double your fun, with doublemint, doublemint, doublemint gum.  EAT POTASSIUM TO WARD OF STROKE.  Bananas, oranges, tomatoes arrive.  UNDRESSING A STICK OF GUM.  NO LONGER THINKING OF SEX.  TOO MUCH TRAGEDY ON A DAY LIKE TODAY.  He sees a novel as a kind of mystery to be solved.  NANCY DREW.  DANCY CREW.  FANCY BREW.  CHANCY STEW.  Who put the bop in the bopsy-bopsy-bop, who put the ram in the rama-rama-ding-dong?  NOTORIETY BEING THE SECOND STEP ON THE ROAD TO CRUCIFIXION.  God keeps those he loves in splendid isolation -- obscurity.  RAMIFICATIONS OF RAM.  Read, rite, Mithratech.  RAPID RATIOCINATION RE-EDIFIES REACTION TIME.  Really?  THE HEAD FIRST.  The Head is mightier than the.  SWORD.  Swordfish.  SWORDFISH TROMBONE.  Regal insecticide.  RE-GAINING RATIONALITY.  Apart from what?  RITUAL.  Righteous rectitude.  BE RARE SHIT.  Eugenesis.  IN NOMINE PATRI ET FILII ET SPIRITUS SANCTI.  A man.  A man.  JUST BEGINNING.  The R is like the B turned up.  LIKE THE P TURNED DOWN.  The R is the roar of the unfinished cadence.   A STORY OF ORIGINS.  Regis Riker raped a rapt and rude Rita, rightly rated.  TURN THE SCREW, PLEASE.  Raspberry Razor.  ARE WE READY TO PROCEED.  Head's up.  REAPERS, GREEPERS, WHERE'D YOU GET THOSE PRAYER RUGS AND THOSE BIOLOGICAL WEAPONS?   SEVEN SLEEPERS, SEVEN KEEPERS OF KATMIR, WHERE'D YOU GET THOSE LIES?  KARSHIPTA.  Let him draw in the snow.  WHAT?  Watch him.  HE HAS A NICE HAND.  Hu Ra!

 

                       

 

YES.  You see the stink is gone.  WHAT DO YOU EXPECT -- THE MAN'S BEEN DEAD FOR MANY YEARS.  That isn't really Ginsberg, is it?  It's some man trying to look like Ginsberg.  Someone with a fetish for the beats.  He used to attend all the sporting events and hold up a sign referring to John's gospel.  NO, THAT'S NOT HIM.  Is he going to speak of the 36 paths?  26 LETTERS AND 10 NUMBERS MAKE A MAN HEALTHY, WEALTHY AND WISE.  The numbers one through 36 when added together equal 666.  YES, WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THAT.  The numbers one through 26 when added together equal 351.  YES.  REGURGITATION.  Look at those two brothers over there, looking like Romulus and Renus themselves.  WOLVES ABOUT THE DOOR.  A tit or two to suck on.  A ROPE TO CLIMB AND A ROPE BOW TIE. Sequestering Romans at the end of a sword -- that is the plan, isn't it?  I DON'T THINK I KNOW THE PLAN.  WHICH PLAN ARE WE DISCUSSING?  I think that brother is behind something.  The Klingerman Letter.  Something.  THE BIG BLUE ENVELOPE.  The numbers one through nine when added together equal 45.  THAT IS THE MAGIC SQUARE OF SATURN.

 

 

 

 

MAGIC SQUARE OF SATURN (BINAH)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

75

45

45

45

75

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

75

 

15

15

15

15

15

 

75

 

 

45

 

15

4

9

2

15

 

45

 

 

45

 

15

3

5

7

15

 

45

 

 

45

 

15

8

1

6

15

 

45

 

 

75

 

15

15

15

15

15

 

75

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

75

45

45

45

75

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Numbers 1 - 9 when added together = 45

 

X Cross:

 

1

 

 

Sum of numbers in the square =

45

 

Y Cross:

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Center:

 

5

 

 

THE CENTER IS 5.  THE X DIFFERENTIALS ARE 1 AND 3.  ADDING ALL THE NUMBERS TOGETEHER IN THE SQUARE GIVES YOU THE NUMBER 45.  I don't really see what this has to do with anything?  THERE IS SOMETHING MYSTICAL HERE.  Really?  Tell me something I don't know.  SOME SECRET KIND OF KNOWLEDGE.  Yes.  I see.  STOP TALKING AND START THINKING.  Yes, I understand.  THE PERFECT AND THE PERFECT ARE ONE PERFECT AND NOT TWO; NAY ARE NONE.  I see.  NA'AR IS NEAR.  I think its true.  If you say it's true, I will believe you.  THERE HE GOES AGAIN.  Who?  MOSES IS BACK.  Ginsberg is gone?  TAKE A WHIFF.  The rock is rotating.  SINAI.  SINAI.

 

1

1

2

3

3

6

4

10

5

15

6

21

7

28

8

36

9

45

 

1

A

Intelligence of Saturn

 

3

G

 

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

Adam

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

The Fool

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

G

Redemption, liberation

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

To grow warm

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7

Z

Heaven of Tiphereth

 

2

B

 

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7

Z

Spirit of Saturn

 

 

7

Z

 

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8

Ch

She Who Ruins

 

 

2

B

 

 

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10

Y

Tetragrammaton in Yetzirah

6

V

 

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

40

M

Greatly, strongly

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

40

M

Yetzirah's "Secret Nature"

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

45

 

 

 

 

 

 

IS MOSES GOING TO REMIND US OF YETZIRAH?  The World of Formation.  Atziluth is Archetypal World.  Briah is the World of Creation, the World of Angels.  Yetzirah is the World of Formation.  Asiah is the World of Action, the World of Shells, of Demons.  WE ARE GOING DEEPER AND DEEPER NOW.  AGAIN, DEEPER INTO THE MORASS.  Careful what you say!  She is looking at us again!  MEN TERRIFIED BY A WOMAN!  LIBERALS ARE MEN TERRIFIED BY WOMEN!  Calm down, Bill.  You are beginning to rave.  You're sounding more like a Hemmingway than a Faulkner.  SATURN'S MYSTICAL NUMBERS ARE 3, 9, 15 AND 45.

 

#3 (Sum 1-2).  Saturn.  The Mystic Number of Chokmah.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

Father

 

 

 

 

2

B

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2

B

To come, go

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE FIRST NUMBER IS THE NUMBER OF SQUARES PER ROW; THE SECOND NUMBER IS THE NUMBER OF SQUARES IN THE SQUARE; THE THIRD NUMBER IS THE SUM OF EACH ROW IN THE SQUARE; THE FOURTH IS THE SUM OF THE NUMBERS IN THE SQUARE.  These squares remind me of periodic table.  MENSTRUATION?  DID HE SAY MENSTRUATION, ADAM?  My name is not Adam.  MEN DULL LAY EVE.  Dull men that they are.  MORE THAN ONE.  Oh, yes: three Adams.  ARE WE GOING TO GET IN TO A THEOLOGICAL DISPUTE NOW?  Not while she's here.  Not while the woman with the bad eye is here.  And old Number Nine, Ventriloquus, the AUB or OB or ABE, the special fire of black magic; which is also the same number of AZA, 'to kindle', and of ACh, 'brother'.  There is a fire burning here, a fire of old Faust, in some odd way.  Burning in the breast of this kabal.  KABUL?  No, no: the mirror of Kabul.  LUBAK?  Labia?  ARABIA?  No, kabal: secret brotherhood.  They want to bring about the end of the world.  They want to fight Islam.  They want to pull down the tent which lets the light come in.  ELEMENTS OF DARKNESS, ALL OF THEM.  ADVERSARIES OF MATERIAL PROGRESS.  Emanatio Rugio.  CROSS AGAINST SCYTHE.  SUN AGAINST MOON.  With the Moon winning?  EVENTUALLY.  SOME DAY.  NIGHT FALLS.  THE MOON IS GOLDEN.  I do not understand the interjection of these Gods, whoever they really are, at this point in the narrative.  I mean, what does this have to do with the creation of letters and the woven fabric of numbers?  I'M SURE HE HAS SOMETHING IN MIND.  Who?  I mean, what will the reader say.  How will the reader respond?  I DON'T THINK HE CARES ABOUT THE READER.  LOOK AT HIM THERE -- PRAYING IN SILENCE.  I CAN'T EVEN FIND HIS VOICE.  WHAT IS HE SAYING?  WHY IS HE SO SILENT OVER THERE?   He's praying.  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?  Maybe you should ask him.  ASK HIM WHAT HIS PRAYERS ARE?  And what his fears are?  DEATH, YOU THINK?  Betrayal of his mother.  Betrayal of his brother.  BETRAYAL OF HIS FAMILY -- JESUS SAYS, LEST YOU BETRAY YOUR FAMILY.  Why Saturn now?  Why not Jupiter?  THEY SAY THE FURTHER THE LEPTON FROM THE CORE, THE LARGER THE BODY IS.  But what about Plato?  WHAT?  Plato was further from the Sun but his body was smaller than that of Socrates.  YES, A MIGHTY MYSTERY.  Pluto is a long way off; but its body is smaller than that of Jewpater.  AHH!  GOOD!  What?  PUN.  Nup.  AIN US.  Yes.  Ain of us.  I AM A LITERARY MAN BY NATURE.  I WOULD MUCH RATHER SPEAK OF JOHN JOHN THAN OF THIS GOD OR THAT GOD AND HIS SQUARE.  John John?  YES. JJ.  TEN TEN.  Ten Ten Miliieu?  YES.  Twenty?  TWENTY'S TEN.  Yes.  Exactly.

 

                                                Aun

                                                Do

                                                Tri

                                                Car

                                                Cush

                                                Shay

                                                Shockt

                                                Ockt

                                                Ni

                                                Geg

                                                Their feed begins.

 

ELEVEN.  Precisely.  AUN IS 36.  We have become a nation of talkers.  Why doesn't someone do something.  BLOOM BEGINS TO BROCADE A BRACKET FOR HIS BEATIVITY.  Brackish Beverly, buried by bounty.  Booberly by brains; baubbly by braun.  BLOOM TOO CAN CHANGE: FACE OF WAX FILLED FOR INSTINCTIVE NATIVITY.  Ba.  BEFORE THE FLAME.  Watch it fill.  SKELETAL MASS PRESIDED OVER BY JOHN 23.  Introibo ad altare dei.  SPEAKING LIKE A CAMEL BELL, A MASTER OF MASKS.  With some unknown sidekick named Brun.  BRUN BLUME?  Nein.  BRUNHILDE?  Ono.  BRUN BETTY?  Onotope.  BRUN HEYWOOD?  Hale no.  FAULKNER'S BRUN CALKERS?  Ipno Sipno.  OSE RAY ARLEY CHEY BRUN?  Nootch.  WE CANNOT KNOW THEN.  BRUN SHIRT AMIL HEY EAT PAY?  Nyet.  ORLEY.  ORLEY.  Speak, Nanootchka.  AHH.  BORIS BEHIND THE MAGAZINE WALL HAS A COCK INSIDE NATASHA.  No wonder her voice is so brusque.  She is busy not being seen by the children.  EROTIC THOUGHTS APPEAR LIKE LONG UNLIT CANDLES BEING BORNE BY BROWN FEZIKAS.  Robins' sons; starlings' emancipated cartographers.  ASTONISHING UNIT.  Faramarz again: coming out, smiling.  EEFER KAY.  EEFER KAY.   A bit mad with giddy drink and fizz.  SPEAK, GREAT PROFESSOR!  Medulla spinalis.  Apertio uteri.  PLEASE,IN ENGLISH!  Bloomer oomerington.  THE BEARDED LADY.  Now comes a list of ten monosyllables which gear the circling wheels of Finnegan's Wake into the cabalistic decade of the Sephiroth.  FOOTNOTE ROBINSON BATES HIS BREATH.  The numbers from one to ten represent, for the cabalists, the stages of the descent (or Fall) of Eternal Spirit into phenomenal manifestation.  Each connotes a mystical quality (Beatitude, Wisdom, Intelligence, Mercy, Justice, Beauty, Honor, Glory, Generation, Dominion), and is attended by a choir of angels.  GAME BALL'S MINISTRY OF ROUGE.  Game Boy's Sinister of Ruse.  MORE EAGLE.  This is a powerhouse of a book, with energy currents going to every page.  The syllables, each representing a number, fall into three groups of three, with one remaining.  They represent the descent of the All-Highest One (Aun) down the ladder of the decade to union with Zero in order to form the number 10 (Geg).  Each rung of the descent is matched by a word corresponding to a phase of cosmic evolution.  The highest aspect of the Godhead is unmanifest.  No sign or word can encompass it.  The highest manifestation is the Person of the Father, called Ain-Soph (no number), or Makroprosopos.  But such a manifestation immediately implies a Knower of this manifestation; and this Knower is the Son.  A Known and a Knower implies a relationship; and this relationship is the third member of the heavenly trinity, the Holy Ghost.  Joyce indicates the three personalities of this heavenly trinity in the first three terms of the mystical decade:

                       

                                    Pantocracy                     Aun

                                    Bimutualism                   Do

                                    Interchangeability            Tri

 

As the Father generated the heavenly trinity, so the Son generated the trinity of man.  He, himself, is the all-inclusinve, androgynous image of man, subsuming both HCE and ALP (Father-Mother).  The first term in the human seeries is Tetragrammaton, the Logos, the Word who is made flesh, the vehicle of God's descent into the world.  The second term, Supefetation, stands for this image fallen into the condition of multiplicity.  At this stage, the pairs of opposites stand against each other (brother battle).  But this opposition implies a relationship between the opposites; and this relationship is represented by the third term of the human three.  Joyce indicates this trinity as follows:

 

                                    Naturality                      Car

                                    Superfetation                  Cush

                                    Stabimobilism                 Shay

 

FEETNEAT MORTON POURS SALT ON THE WOUND.  Joyce's footnote on Cush is highly important, indicating as it does that the descending power splits at the fifth run into two opposing forces, Cush and Kish (brother battle again).  The diagram thumbs the nose at Kish, Anti-Christ, Shem.  The five fingers of the hand represent rung five and symbolize the incarnate Son.  There are two sides to the hand, front and back.  The word 'anti-christ' is rendered 'anticherist' (contra-hand); and the comment is a contemptuous "back of my hand to him".

 

         

 

From the Holy Ghost proceeds the trinity of the Physical World; respectively, Time, Space and Causality.  Joyce lists them as follows:

 

                                    Periodicity                     Shocht

                                    Consummation                Ockt

                                    Interpenetrativeness         Ni

 

The entire series of nine terms is an extension of the masculine aspect of the Godhead.  None of these principles becomes effective in living forms until the female aspect has received them, as it were, into here womb.  The ninth term of the masculine series is the male member of the Divine Body, to be united with its negative counterpart.  The feminine principle is represented by zero, 0, and through its addition to the now-exhausted series, the decade refreshed in Geg is fitted for continuation in another series.  The theme of the new series is announced in the phrase

                                   

                                                                        Their feed begins

 

Having gathered the broken fragments of the exhausted decade (the fallen Humpty Dumpty, the prostrate Hod carrier Finnegan), Mother Zero serves them up again to the new generation: "Grampumpus has fallen down but Grinny sprids the boord."  'Geg', indeed, actually suggests the eggs to be served.  EGG MAIDEN, WITH TWO BOYS ON THE INSIDE.  Is that what you see?  THINGMOTE TOETALKER SPRIDS THE BORED ON A BREADED BRASIER.  The schoolboy illumination in the lower left-hand corner of the page yields several secrets.  The topmost element is the profile of Makroprosopos, who is always represented in profile.  It is through the nose that his sacred breath (Spirit, Expiration) is sent forth to become the creating force of all the worlds.  The second element is the hand in profile, thumbing the nose (Cush versus Kish).  The third element is a pair of cross-bones, suggesting death, which is associated traditionally with love (in Hinduism, the God of Love is also the God of Death).

 

 

         

 

The Kingdom (Geg, Ten) is the place of love and death.  'X' represents kisses; but it also represents the crucifixion.  Had God not loved man He would not have been crucified.  The juvenile illumination also carries a suggestion of the tunc page of the Book of Kells.  BELLE GAMS AND BONNIE BUMPERS GLIDES SAFELY INTO THE BED.  At this point, procreation as well as feeding begins anew, and the brother pair, Box and Cox, alternate in the marriage bed.  The chapter concludes with a NIGHTLETTER from the children, who are to be thought of as having gone forth into their world-adventure.  They cable back from the New World, sending greetings to Pep and Memmy and the old folks in the realm of the ancestors.  FOOTSY NOTESY BLOWS FROM HIS BUMMEL HORN.  Throughout Finnegans Wake the new world is represented as America.  Joyce here consciously follows the precedent of William Blake, in whose symbology the Boston Tea Party represents the first upturn of man from his long Fall -- the cosmogonic Fall which began in Paradise and which attained its nadir in the 'diseases and mildews' of the brutal merchant-empire of the Giant Albion.  Blake's imagery combines easily with Vico's.  It furnishes many of the strongest themes of Finnegans Wake.  The tea-stained letter from Boston, for instance, unfolds new secrets when unfolded in the light of Blake.  Blake's image of a fundamental sleeping individuality, Albion, around whom revolve the figures of the Four Zoas, and whose emanation is the symbolic Jerusalem, and who will not awake from his Universal Dream until the Last Judgment -- is precisely HCE.  IS HE DONE?  13.  WHAT?  HCE is 13 -- I THINK.  Can't you count?  YOU'RE A DAMNED KLEPTOMANIAC!  YOU STEAL EVERYTHING YOU SEE, AND SEW IT IN TO YOUR COAT OF MANY COLORS.  Your honor, the defendant has explained the concept of montage -- and he has found precedent in such a technique in no less a literary figure than Thomas Mann, his own uncle once or twice removed.  SATAN ALSO MANIPULATES THE FEET.  Well said, drone of horror.  WHAT ARE YOU GIGGLING ABOUT?  Boe-ing!  Boe-ing!  JESUS, TROTHMAN!  YOUR FRIEND HAS GONE B-B-B-YONKERS!  Roofscaper.  GLASS MENAGERIED.  Giggle your way on out of here, unbeliever.  INFIDELITY PERSON!  What did you call him?  INFEDERAL ALI.  I THINK.  IT'S GETTING LATE.  I'M REALLY GETTING PRETTY DAMNED SLEEPY!  Moishe was on the ARE.  I felt like we were getting somewhere.  Where has this discussion gone?  MOSES HOLDS A DIFFERENT BOOK FROM BLOOM.  Let the Jew speak his mind. HEAR HEAR!

 

The Sephiroth (the Numbers) are also called the World of Emanations, or the Atziluthic World (the Archetypal World, OVLUM ATzILUTH, Olahm Atziloth); and this world gave birth to three other worlds each containing a repetition of the Sephiroth, but in a descending scale of brightness.

 

The second world is the Briatic World, OVLM HBRIAH, Olahm Ha-Briah), the World of Creation, also called KVRSIA Khorsia, the Throne.  It is an immediate emanation from the world of Atziloth, whose ten Sephiroth are reflected herein, and are consequently more limited, though they are still of the purest nature, and without any admixture of matter.

 

The third is the Jetziratic World, OVLM HITzIRAH, Olahm Ha-yetziral, or world of Formation and of angels, which proceeds from Briah, and, though less refined in substance, is still without matter.  It is in this angelic world that reside those intelligent and incorporeal beings who are wrapped in a luminous garment, and who assume a form when they appear unto man. 

 

The fourth is the Asiatic World, OVLM HOShIH, Olahm Ha-Asiah, the World of Action, called also the World of Shells, OVLM HQLIPVTH, Olahm Ha-Qliphoth, wohich is the World of Matter, made up of the grosser elements of the other three.  It is also the abode of evil spirits, which are called 'the shells' byt he Qabalah, QLIPVTH, Qliphoth, material shells.  The devils are also divided ito ten classes, and have suitable habitations.

 

HE  IS DRAWING SOMETHING IN THE SNOW.

 

                                   

 

 

HE DRAWS IN SUCH A NEAT HAND.  HE MUST BE FROZEN BY NOW.  He is drawing again.  HIS FINGER IS TURNING BLUE AGAIN.  Shh!  Let him work!

 

                                   

 

TIPHERETH IS THE SUN.  THE CENTER OF THE SYSTEM.  A globe within a globe.  THE EARTH TOO.  Atomic organization?  THAT IS NOT THE SEASON YET.  What season is it?  WHERE IS YOUR CLOCK?  YOUR WATCH?  A lost treasure, left on a table somewhere.  SUBAM.  Moses!  Moses!  Who is that Truman?  He looks like Robert Moses to me, riding in his great limousine!  MOLOCH!  MOLOCH!  A stench of death comes through again, sweeping over the snow.  GINSBERG!  What?  I DON'T LISTEN TO THE CRITICS.  CRITICS NEVER BUILT ANYTHING IN THEIR LIFE.  CRITICS NEVER BUILT ONE BUILDING.  CRITICS DON'T PRODUCE ANYTHING.  THEY JUST CRITICIZE THOSE WHO PRODUCE SOMETHING.  Moloch!  Robert Moloch!  THINGS A' CHANGE A'.  Remember Penn Station!  Remember Penn Station!  YES, PETER GOWER!  DEFEND THE STONE.  AND DEFEND THE ANGELS THAT THEY TORE DOWN AND BURIED IN NEW JERSEY!  The Fallen Angels cry.  The Fallen Angels cry.  WE USED TO ARRIVE IN THIS CITY LIKE GODS, NOW WE ARRIVE LIKE RATS.  How did Crossmann arrive?  HE ARRIVED LIKE A RAT, COMING UP OUT OF THE SEWERS, STANDING IN FRONT OF AN ISLAMIC MOSQUE.  What did he say?  HE SAID: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS DOING IN AMERICA?  Yes.  He is a soldier of the crown.  THE ROSY CROWN.  The Rosey Cross -- Rosicrucian that he is.  HICCUP.  Hick cough, you mean.  YOU WOULD KNOW ABOUT THAT.  Master Builder.  A CITY WITHOUT TRAFFIC IS A GHOST TOWN.  A CITY IS CREATED FOR TRAFFIC.  Mister Expressway.  JJ COMES UP AGAIN.  JANE JACOBS BREAKS THE EGG OF IDEOLOGY.  Corbu lose e ay.  WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!  What?  LOOK AT HIM!  HE LOOKS JUST LIKE ROBERT MOSES!  DAMN JEW CAPITALIST!  Shh!  He tried to destroy this town!  PETER, HE IS NOT MOSES.  MOSES IS OVER THERE.  Where?  THE BOY MOSES.  THE ONE INSIDE THE POET, GINSBERG.  But Ginsberg is back.  WHERE IS MOSES THEN?  He has entered this false man who calls himself True Man.  PETE, YOU ARE GROWN WEARY.  YOU ARE BEGINNING TO SEE PHANTOMS.  This is the Pequod, bound 'round the world!  Tell them to address all future letters to the Pacific Ocean...   SSH!  SSH!   PETER!  GROW CALM.  And who is that damn Arab there, giggling in to his sleeve.  WERE THIS WORLD AN ENDLESS PLAIN, AND BY SAILING EASTWARD WE COULD FOR EVER REACH NEW DISTANCES, AND DISCOVER MORE SWEET AND STRANGE SIGHTS, THEN THERE WERE PROMISE IN THE VOYAGE.  BUT IN TORMENTED CHASE OF THE DEMON PHANTOM THAT, AT SOME TIME OR OTHERS, SWIMS BEFORE ALL HUMAN HEARTS -- THEN, WHILE CHASING OVER THIS ROUND GLOBE AFTER THOSE MYSTERIES -- THEY EITHER LEAD US ON IN BARREN MAZES, OR MIDWAY LEAVE US O'ERWHELMED.  Shut down the socialist, Bill.  Give him a drink.  Calm him down.  Give him Crossmann's magic glasses.  I WON'T WEAR THOSE DAMNED GLASSES -- WHICH MAKE EVERYTHING APPEAR ROSEY NO MATTER WHAT THE TRUTH.  THAT MAKE THE GODS TRIUMPH OVER THE NEEDS OF MEN.  WE HAVE TO BREAK THOSE DAMNED GLASSES.  THAT'S WHEN CROSSMAN LOST HIS WAY.  WHEN HE AGREED TO SEE THE UNITY OF THE WORLD.  But that is his greatness too.  YES.  PERHAPS.  BUT WE ARE OLD NOW.  WE ARE NOT ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THIS NEW THING, THIS NEW IDEA.  I HAVE NO PLACE IN THIS NEW WORLD.  THIS NEW WORLD REFLECTS NOT MY CHILDHOOD, I THINK.  SO I DON'T TRUST IT.  I FEEL IRRELEVANT NOW -- WHEN BEFORE I WAS THE KING.  Blame it on Moses.  Blame everything on Moses.  That's what they've always done.  DOMINUS DOMINORUM.  EXCELLENCE IS IN THE EYE.  What's that smell?  EXCELLENCE, TOO, COMES IN THROUGH THE NOSE.  What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?  Moloch!  Solitude!  Filth!  Ugliness!  Ashcans and unobtainable dollars!  Children screaming under the stairways!  Boys sobbing in armies!  Old men weeping in the parks!  Moloch!  Moloch!  Nighhtmare of Moloch!  Moloch the loveless!  Mental Moloch!  Moloch the heavy judger of men!  Moloch the incomprehensible prison!  Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and congress of sorrows!  Moloch whose buildings are judgment!  Moloch the vast stone of war!  Moloch the stunned governments!  Moloch whose mind is pure machinery!  Moloch whose blood is running money!  Moloch whose fingers are ten armies!  Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo!  Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!  Moloch whose eyes are a tousand blind windows!  Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs!  Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog!  Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!  Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone!  Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks!  Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius!  Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen!  Moloch whose name is the Mind!  Moloch in whom I sit lonely!  Moloch in whom I dream Angels!  Crazy in Moloch!  Cocksucker in Moloch!  Lacklove and manless in Moloch!  Moloch was entered my soul early!  Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body!  Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstacy!  Moloch who I abandon!  Wake up in Moloch!  Light streaming out of the sky!  Moloch!  Moloch!  Robot apartments!  Invisible suburbs!  Skeleton treasuries!  Blind capitals!  Demonic industries!  Spectral nations!  Invincible mad houses!  Granite cocks!  Monstrous bombs!  They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven!  Pavements, trees, radios, tons!  Lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!  Visions!  Omens!  Hallucinations!  Miracles!  Ecstacies!  Gond down the American river!  Dreams!  Adorations!  Illuminations!  Religions!  The whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!  Breakthroughs!  Over the river!  Flips and crucifixions!  Gone down the flood!  Highs!  Epiphanies!  Despiars!  Ten year's aminal screams and suicides!  Minds!  New loves!  Mad generation!  Down on the rocks of Time!  Real holy laughter in the river!  They saw it all!  The wild eyes!  The holy yells!  They bade farewell!  They jumped off the roof!  To solitude!  Waving!  Carrying flowers!  Down to the river!  Into the street!  HE ADMIRES THE POET EVEN AS HE ESCHEWS THE MAN.  It is not the artist I love; it is the art.  TRUTH IS NOT EXTREME; BUT THE ROAD TO TRUTH OFTEN IS EXTREME.  Look at old Crowley.  YES.  POOR BEAST.  SEX SEX SEX.  The pantograph is an instrument for copying (as a map) on a predetermined scale consisting of four light rigid bars jointed in parallelogram form; any of various extensible devices of similar construction (as for use as brackets or gates).  SUPERFETATION IS A PROGRESSIVE ACCUMULATION OR ACCRETION REACHING AN EXTREME OR EXCESSIVE DEGREE.  MULTIPLICITY.  God of naturalness.  GOD OF HEAVY BREATH AND PULSE.  Pan toe crat.  PANT TALK ROSSY.  Pen tea coastal panty roastey.  LOOK AT THE SMILE.  Can we laugh now; even now -- after all this?  AFTER ALL WHAT?  After all our sins.  YOU MEAN SLAVERY, RACISM, WAR, MURDER, EXPANSIONISM, GREED?  IN THIS ARE WE DIFFERENT THAN THE EGYPTIANS, THE BABYLONIANS, THE CHINESE, THE MONGOLS, THE ROMANS, THE EUROPEANS, THE AMERICAN INDIANS, THE BLACK AFRICANS?  You wish to mitigate your guilt by claiming that everyone is guilty?  You do not claim that you are not guilty.  You claim that you are guilty as others are guilty?  EVERYMAN IS GUILTY.  EVERY MANNER IS FILTHY AND CLEAN.  EVERY MASS CELEBRATED AND TORTURED.  EVERY MASTER SOME KIND OF ANGEL AND A DEMON.  S-Teth.  Serpent-Temperance.  HE IS GOING AWAY AGAIN, TRANSFORMING HIMSELF INTO THE BOY-MOSES, METRONOME.  He conceives when already pregnant.  WHAT?  Superiorfatuation.  WHAT?  The act of bearing the young; of creating offspring.  YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THAT MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL DOES NOT LIVE IN HEAVEN, BUT LIVES, INSTEAD, IN TIPERETH, FROM WHICH HE OVERSEES THE EARTH, PREPARING THE ARMIES OF HEAVEN FOR THE CONFLICT WITH THE ARMIES OF SATAN.  The armies of Islam, you mean?  WHAT?  What is he saying?  Is he trying to prepare us for war?  THE NORTH-SOUTH PARADIGM, THE VERTICLE AXIS OF THE CROSS, IS SYMBOLIC OF WARFARE BETWEEN THE GODS.  THAT IS WHAT HE TOLD US.  He has been saying many things.  I DON'T WISH TO SPEAK ABOUT THIS, ABOUT WAR.  BRING ME SOME OTHER VISION.  NOT THE DESTRUCTIVE ONE.  MAKE ME SMILE AGAIN.  DO SOME KIND OF DRAWING IN THE SNOW.

 

                       

 

 

I don't get it.  ASSESS YOURSELF!  In the light of what?  IN THE LIGHT OF ALLAH'S HAMMER!  What?  FARAMARZ IS LAUGHING AGAIN.  Stop this, Saduj.  LET ME KNOW WHAT SIZE COLLAR YOU WEAR.  Tarrow root.  Tomorrow rood.  Full shiner shows.  THE MADNESS OFF MIMES.  Articulating ropes.  Gesticulating robes.  Robes, pierre!  MANNERMAN.  SSSSSAGITTARIUS, TTTHE AAAARCHERRR.  Soothsayer Toothmayor.  TOOTHMEIER?  Menmeistersinger, Meinmessersmith.  YES?  The dilemma, of course, is that we don't all see the world as one.  This is the dualism too, built-in.  The spiritual idea is that we are all part of the same family.  I say spiritual but I might also say the view from the anti-universe.  Anti-matter.  Anti-matter is the son, the one who wants to sacrifice himself and his family for the good of the world.  This is the message of the martyr, of Jesus.  We are all the same family.  Nationalism is an illusion.  The material idea (the view from the universe) is the view of the Father: that the man takes care of his own family -- that nationalism is a real thing.  That internationalism is an illusion.  Of course you don't feed one child at your table and starve the rest; you feed all of your children.  But you understand that nature is hard, that life struggles to survive.  That the man, as an individual, must take care of his own family -- and put his own family ahead of his neighbor's family.  He takes care of his own children.  And his neighbor takes care of his own children.  Of course, this latter view is a practical view of someone who really has children.  The denizens of the world of anti-matter seldom have children.  Having children, in fact, pulls a man down from heaven, making him give up his ideals for the sake of protection of his own family.  This makes the angels fall into the condition of being men.  AHA!  THIS IS SOMETHING THEN!  HE IS TALKING ABOUT THE FALL OF THE ANGELS -- THE FALL OF THE ANGELS INTO THE CONDITION OF BEING MEN!  SSSH!  Let the man speak!  I AM LETTING HIM SPEAK!  It is easy to speak about ideal worlds and universal ideas -- but the practical application of those ideas is a very big problem.  Utopians are almost almost mass murderers when they gain power -- and the Earth's inhabitants come to understand again that the world is better off when individuals are free to build their own utopias family by family, rather than to follow the state utopianism of ideologues who never understand how to implement their plans for perfect worlds.  The dilemma is that heaven does not move; there is no time in heaven; and the Earth (the physical world) moves constantly; the Earth is governed by time.  The circle really can't be squared.  Like matter and anti-matter, when the circle approaches the square each annihilates the other.  They the circle becomes the square and the square becomes the circle.  They change places.  They don't become one for long; they split in to two, then three, and so on.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  HE IS SAYING THE CIRCLE CAN'T BE SQUARED.  WHO IS HE TO SAY THAT, AFTER MYSTICS OF ALL AGES HAVE SAID THAT THE CIRCLE CAN BE SQUARED?  But none of them were able to do so.  THAT IS SUBJECT TO DEBATE, SIR.  Mathematically, none was able to do it.  MINUS MAN; TALIBAN.  Minus Man; Kazakistan.  IMAM MALSI.  Essence.  ESSENCE OF WHAT?  Essence of the Essenes.  Essence of Samson.  Essense of Saalah, Sabaoth, Salmon.  I SEE.  Essenence of Sabazios, Saitu, Sabra and Shatilla.  E SENSE OF WHAT ELSE?  S sense of Sabbath.  S sense of sense.  S sense of S.   THE SUN RISES.  Sanctus Sanctus.  S PUT ON THE T IS A SENSE OF THE SUN BEING PUT ON THE CROSS.  IT BECAME, OF COURSE, LATER, A SYMBOL OF ALMIGHTY MONEY.

 

                                               

 

S is also a symbol of half of the evolutionary cycle.  EVOLUTION OR INVOLUTION?  Evolution of matter is involution of spirit.  Evolution of spirit is involution of matter.  YES.  See its reference also to the number 8.  IN BODILY APPEARANCE, YES.  The tooth being the gate of the mouth.  YES.  The bow and arrow designating that which can be detached, emitted, sent, dispatched; thrown, launched, dispensed, ejectyed.  THE TOOTH DESIGNATING THAT WHICH CAN BE CRUSHED, GRINDED, BROKEN, REDUCED.  ENABLING THE EXTERNAL WORLD TO BE ASSIMILATED INTO THE INTERNAL.  SPLITTING THE WHOLE INTO PARTS FOR ASSIMILATION.  ANALYSIS.  300 is connected to 3 (Gimel the Camel) and 30 (Lamed the Ox-Goad), both of which speak to motion, to travel, and to a launching.  OF SOMETHING.  Something has been launched?  What?  A missile?  Is that what they are getting at?  Is that what we get from the smoke?  From the sirens?  SOMETHING LAUNCHED.  I'M HEARING GLASS BREAK.  I don't hear that.  WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT?  Glass breaking.  WHAT IT MEANS -- IS THAT WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT?  THE SYMBOLISM?  No, he says he hears it breaking.  HEARD IT.  PAST TENSE.  I didn't hear it.  I HEARD IT TOO.  What?  When?  NOT LONG AGO.  MINUTES.  SOMETHING BROKE.    Forget about that.  The men of letters must wait until all the letters are excavated from this mount.  Then they can go inside and get warm.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT.  IS THAT WHY WE ARE HERE?  THE WITNESS THE BIRTH OF LETTERS -- THE RE-BIRTH OF LETTERS?  FOR WHAT PURPOSE?  The written word.  YES, THAT'S IT.  The written word is the basis of civilization.  WHAT DID HE SAY?  The spoken word is the basis of what then?  THE MATRIARCHY?  Who said that?  IS MISS VAGINA IN THE ROOM, SPEAKING THROUGH THE MOUTH OF SOME MAGICIAN, SOME VENTRILOQUIST?  Matriarchy worships the moon.  In the nighttime there is no light by which to read the written page.  NO LIGHT!  THEY HAD MEMORIES IN THOSE DAYS!  THEY REMEMBER STORIES THEY HEARD SITTING AROUND A GAMFIRE, STORIES GRANDFATHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS TOLD.  Is that a rosie scenario?  WHAT?  Romantic gapacity?  THEY SAY THE CREATION OF THE ALPHABET LED TO THE ADVENT OF THE MALE GODS, THE DAY GODS, OVER THE FEMALE DEITIES.  THE SUN OVER THE MOON.  Is that what all this is about?  ARE WE BACK AT THE BEGINNING THEN?  I don't believe sitting in the snow, freezing our butts off out here in some monastery backyard, is close to anything original.  It's all been done before, hasn't it?  I mean, the agony in the garden -- hasn't it all been done before?  NOTHING REPEATS ABSOLUTELY.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.  IN AND OUT.  IN AND OUT.  In an out of the light.  SOMETIMES VENUS IS IN ASCENDENCY; SOMETIMES MARS.  Once the Egyptians had all the money; then the Babylonians; then the Romans; then the Arabs; then the West Europeans; then the Americans.  Someone else will have the money next.  Japan had it for awhile.  God gives and God takes away.  Day and Night.  Nationalism and Internationalism.  Ebb and flow.  The rich man may be poor in spirit; often this is true.  It is not a necessity however.  I know some rich people whose spirits are very rich; and I know poor people who are thieves and killers and who have no spiritual life.  On the other hand I know some poor people who are very rich spiritually.  There is no easy formula.  Again, the individual comes in to play.  It is an error to speak in generalities when describing truth.  Rich are evil; poor are good.  My experience does not tell me this is so.  Again, the soul, the individual, creates the truth through his behaviors.  IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD AND THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH.  Before the beginning was the word; but the word had no flesh.  THE MOUTH DISCONNECTED FROM THE HAND.  I see.  PI.  MOUTH AND HAND.  I can get you an office on the 110th floor of the World Trade Center.  The top floor.  WHAT IF HE'S AFRAID OF HEIGHTS?  Well, then I can get him an office in the basement.  THERE ARE 111 FLOORS IN THE TOWER?  Well -- yes.  110 floors and the basement.  Yes, 111 floors.  I SEE.  Do you think Jesus comes back a second time to be crucified again?  Is that what you think?  I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK.  Is not the Tree of Life, itself, the cross?  OR IS IT THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL?  It depends on your perspective: universe or anti-universe.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND ALL THIS.  Yes, that's why you are here.  To clarify your vision.  IS THAT IT?  IS THAT THE REASON I AM HERE?  Yes  But there are unbelievers with you.  AND A TRAITOR.  ONE WHO WILL BETRAY YOU.  ONE LIVING IN YOUR MIDST WHO WISHES TO DESTROY YOU.  Is he here with me, praying in this garden?    YES.  OF COURSE.  'Bereshith' -- 'In the Beginning' -- the first word in the bible, suggests that Beth, not Aleph, participated in the creation.  Aleph was not divisible; hence, Aleph could not divide himself for the purpose of creation.  Beth was that division, the vehicle through which the creation found its engine.  PUT AN 'X' ON YOUR HAT.  Pardon.  AT FIRST, IN PRINCIPLE: PUT AN 'X' ON YOUR HAT.   To whom is he speaking?  AND WE KNOW THAT THE BEGINNING IS THE DAWN OF LIFE, OF THE MALE LIFE, COMING OUT OF DARKNESS.  THE BOOK DOES NOT BEGIN WITH THE WORLD BEFORE THE BEGINNING.  That is understood.  THERE IS MORE.  And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.  CROSS TWO STICKS.  Put two crossed sticks on your hat.  CROSSBONES NORTHWEST AND SOUTHEAST.  CROSSBONES NORTHEAST AND SOUTHWEST.  Shh.  He's drawing again.

 

                                   

 

LOOK!  Put your sign on this contract; and I will deliver you an office for your trading company on the 37th Floor of World Trade Center Number One.  HE MAKES AN X.  His name is Cross Man.  X is the perfect symbol for a Cross Man.  X.  X.  ALLAH AKBAR.  What?  Who said that?  ZRAMARAF.  Who?  OUR ARAB FRIEND, FRIEND OF TRUMAN.  What did he say?  HE SAID: 'ALLAH AKBAR'.  Doesn't that mean "God is Great"?  NO.  IT IS AN EROTIC POEM.  Look at his face!  Look at his eyes!  His eyes look like scavenger birds.  HE IS PUTTING ON HIS SUNGLASSES. Stabat Mater.  Stabat Mater.  T IS THE TREE OF LIFE.  And more than that.  THE TREE OF DEATH?  The tree upon which Jesus is hanged.  THERE IS IN PARADISE A MARKET WHEREIN THERE WILL BE NO BUYING OR SELLING, BUT WILL CONSIST OF MEN AND WOMEN.  WHEN A MAN DESIRES A BEAUTY, HE WILL HAVE INTERCOURSE WITH THEM.  What?  ISLAMIC HEAVEN.  HE IS RAVING ABOUT ISLAMIC HEAVEN.  Oh.  Why?  I DON'T KNOW.  HE SEEMS TO BE IN SOME KIND OF RAPTURE.  I'M NOT SURE.  MAYBE HE'S TIRED.  MAYBE HE'S SICK  Sick!  HE'S A WILD ASS OF A  MAN!  So now be sodomites, you Arabs.  Turn not away from it -- therein is wondrous pleasure.  Take some coy lad with kiss-curls twisting on his temple and ride as he stands like some gazelle standing to her mate.  A lad who all can see girt with sword and belt not like your whore who has to go veiled.  Make for smooth-faced boys and do your very best to mount them, for women are the mounts of devils.  HE IS RAVING.   Is he gay, then?  HE'S RAVING.  And round about them will serve boys of perpetual frehsness: if thou seest them, thou woulds't think them scattered pearls.  HE SHOULD EXCUSE HIMSELF -- AND GO INSIDE TO GET WARM.  He is warm.  He's sweating.  He is in some kind of ecstacy.  TRUMAN, HE'S YOUR FRIEND.  TAKE HIM INSIDE.  Prophet, make war on the unbelievers and the hypocrites and deal rigorously with them.  Hell shall be their Home: an evil fate.  ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?  What?  ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?  YOU SEEM TO BE TALKING TO ME.  When you meet the unbelievers in the Jihad, strike off their heads and, when you have laid them low, bind your captives firmly.  Then grant them their freedom, or take ransom from them, until War shall lay down their burdens.  TRUMAN!  I can't controll him.  He got this look in his eye.  That's all I know.  And he's been talking rubbish ever since.  NO MAN SHALL BE QUESTIONED FOR BEATING HIS WIFE.  I don't know what's come over him -- he's become mad!  WILL NO ONE RID ME OF THIS DAUGHTER OF MARWAN!  Quiet, quiet, Faramarz!  Be calm!  You are raving!  Is it the drink?  Is it your mind that is on fire because of conspiracy or guilt?  WHAT?  I UNDERSTAND NOT WHAT YOU ASK?  Be calm.  I understand it is you who is the traitor.  I understand that you betray the human race with your activity.  (Kissing him on the cheek.)  Go, inside.  Get warm.  Be silent.  HE IS LEAVING.  HE IS GOING INSIDE.  What was that all about?  OH, HE'S BEEN UNDER A LOT OF STRESS LATELY.   Sad you'd say.  Stress fromwhat?  TROUBLE AT HOME.  HE'S BEEN SPENDING A LOT OF TIME WITH COUSINS WHO'VE BEEN VISITING.   YOU KNOW, COUSINS NOT FITTING IN TO AMERICA VERY WELL.  Oh.  COUSINS STUDYING TO BECOME PILOTS.  Oh.  WELL, THAT'S NOT WHY WE ARE HERE, IS IT?  I don't know why we are here.  Why are we here?  T IS A TEA-STAINED LETTER.  In again, Faye.  Ache's Way.  THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.  Aye.  NUBILE FUTILE.  T is for Tiphereth, the abode of the angel.  TELL US MORE ABOUT THIS TIPHERETH, MOSES.  In the kabbalistic doctrine, the name formed by the four Hebrew letters, Yod, He, Vav, He, has a special and intimate connection with the grade of Tiphereth, of which it is, in the strict sense, the proper name.  We must understand this to mean that if one could grasp with sufficient clearness the nature of the grade Tiphereth, especially as the oringinator of the Neschamah, he would perceive that this is the fitting appellation which shoujld be given to it: as the image of Ain-Soph.   To this grade of comprehension Moses and the other prophets actually rose, and this was the basis of their inspiration.  There is, however, a difference between the inspiration of Moses and that of the other prophets. Moses was able to grasp the connection between the grade and the Name fully and clearly, but the others only through a haze, as it were, since their comprehension only reached fully to the two inferior grades of Nezah and Hod, the two ÔpillarsÕ or Ôwillows of the brookÕ, as they are fancifully called.  A common kabbalistic view of man (living in the present spiritual realm) is that of three 'spiritual' parts; or, if you will, three parts of his soul.  In most basic terms, Nephesh is connected to the basic performance of the commandements in order to have a relationship with God  and help us get throught he physical dimension of life.  Ruach (not to be confused with Ruach haKodesh, God's Holy Spirit) is the spirit that distinguishes man from the animals.  The Ruach gives man the abiity to go beyond the physical existence of animals, and reach in to the spiritual dimensions, specifically to try to understand the deeper meaning of God's law.  All people have a Nephesch and Ruach within their being. The Neshemah however, is an additional part of man's spiritual makeup. Neshemah is a spirit (or "spiritual connection"), given by God when a person through faith/trust, begins to truly seek Him (through His Torah). The Neshemah is the spiritual faculty given to man that connects with the Ruach haKodesh (God's Holy Spirit).  Such a person is considered linked to Tiphereth and is even thought of as being greater than the prophets.  In the Zohar it is written:  What, now, is the difference between those who study the Law and faithful prophets? The former are ever superior, since they stand on a higher level. Those who study the Law stand in a place called Tifereth (Beauty), which is the pillar of all faith, whereas the prophets stand lower in the place called Nezah (Victory) and Hod (Majesty); and those who merely speak in the spirit of holiness stand lower still. He who studies the Law needs neither peace offerings nor burnt offerings, since the Law is superior to all and the bond of faith; wherefore it is written ÒHer ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peaceÓ (Proverbs. III, 17), and also, ÒGreat peace have they which love thy law and they have no occasion for stumblingÓ (Psalm. CXIX, 165).Õ  God has promised a reward to those who seek Him in faith:  Hebrews 11:6 - And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.  Exploring a bit deeper, Nephesch, as it is freely given and present in all men, is said to come from the right side of the Tree of Life, the side of Chesed (mercy). The Ruach, is said to be from the left side, which is the critical/judgmental side. Here is where man can choose between following the path of the Lw to God, or considering himself not under God's Law and moving away from Him.  This is where man's yetzer hara (evil inclination) comes into play. (The yetzer hara is also said to come from the left side, which is also from where evil eminates.) When presented with God's Law, and its defintion of sin, man can give in to his yetzer hara and transgress the Law or can place his yetzer hara under subjugation, even using it to serve God.   Lastly, the Neshemah is said to be of the central pillar of the Tree of Life, (where Tiphereth is located), that of balance and harmony (between man's animal and spiritual aspects).  When Adam was created, it was the Neshemah that God breathed into Him:  Genesis 2:7 - And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; [neshmat hayyim] and man became a living soul [nefesh hayyah].  Having the Neshemah directly placed into him by God, Adam had very personal relationship with his maker. The Neshemah is what we have lost through sin, and what we need to recover in order to go on and become conformed to His image. It is interesting that in the Genesis text, the word we see is neshmat, the plural of neshemah. This implies a spiritual attachment to the multiple Sephiroth of God.   SOMETHING HAS CHANGED HERE.  DO YOU FEEL IT?  Yes.  No doubt.  THE MOOD HAS GROWN TENSE.  What is anthrax?  WHAT?  WHAT HAS THAT TO DO WITH TEA?  I'm not sure.  You asked about the mood.  AND YOU ASKED ABOUT ANTHRAX.  WHY?  Someone must know.  It is in someone's mind here.  WHOSE?  I don't know.  SEE IF YOU CAN FIND IT.  Anthrax is an infectious and often fatal disease caused by the bacterium Bacillus Anthracis. It occurs in humans but is more common in such animals as cattle, goats, horses, sheep, and buffalo. Human infections usually result from the handling of animal hides, wool, and hair contaminated with anthrax spores. The bacterium typically enters through the skin and causes a swollen, pustular area, often with a black center, called a malignant pustule. General symptoms include fever and malaise. From the skin pustule the bacterium may invade the bloodstream and rapidly cause a fatal septicemia. Inhalation of spores may cause infection of the lungs, and the resultant pneumonia, called woolsorters' disease, is usually fatal. Anthrax spores may continue to be infectious for many years, even in articles made from infected animal products. Pasteur developed an anthrax vaccine in 1881; new vaccines are now available for those at special risk. Treatment consists of administering large doses of antibiotics.  In 1979 over 1,000 people were reported to have died from anthrax, after an explosion at a plant in the Russian city of Sverdlovsk. The plant is believed to have been manufacturing biological weapons.  WHY DO WE SPEAK OF THIS?  It is in someone's mind.  IT'S HIM!  HE'S COMING OUT AGAIN!  Nosferatu?  IT'S MORE FEAR AMONGST US NOW.  Are you a citizen of this country, Mister?  WHERE IS OUR SCHOLAR?  Margoliouth writes that Islam first took the name of 'Hanif', which in Hebrew meant 'hypocrite' and in Syriac "heathen'; the name 'Muslim' originally meant 'traitor,' or 'one who hands his friends over to their enemies'.  HA, HA, HA!  ONE WHO HANDS HIS SOUL OVER TO HIS GOD!  Why do we have such victimization now?  Why do we turn against this man?  CAN'T YOU SMELL THE SMOKE?  Who is burning?  WHOM DO YOU THINK IS BURNING?  I have no idea.  I am freezing.  DON'T YOU SMELL FLESH BURNING?  THE FLESH OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN?  Have the Nazis struck again?  WHERE?   Where there is smoke there is fire.  THERE WILL BE SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD VIRGINS IN HEAVEN FOR US TO SCREW AND WATER AND WINE, AS MUCH AS WE WISH TO DRINK!  What?  BELIEVERS, TAKE NEITHER JEWS NOR CHRISTIANS FOR YOUR FRIENDS.  THEY ARE FRIENDS WITH ONE ANOTHER.  WHOEVER OF YOU WHO SEEKS THEIR FRIENDSHIP WILL BECOME ONE OF THEIR NUMBER.  ALLAH DOES NOT GUIDE THE WRONG-DOER.  The man is mad.  WHO BROUGHT HIM HERE?  Truman!  HE IS A GOOD MAN.  IT IS...IT MUST BE SOMETHNG HE DRANK!  He hides his true nature well.  But the fanatic remains.  HE NEEDS A NEW RELIGION.  ONE NOT BASED ON HATE.  He will not accept it.  To accept it is to be ruined in his faith.  I FEEL SO MUCH DIFFERENT NOW.  I AM VERY MUCH UNEASY.  WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF THIS?  He comes and goes among us as a friend.  But he is not a friend.  We invite him in to our house as a guest.  But he uses our friendship to turn us over to our enemies.  HE IS MAD.  DO NOT FORGET THIS.  Is madness his legal defense; or is it just the nature of his nature?  THAT IS FOR A JURY TO DECIDE.  No, not a jury.  That is something for our God to decide.  I SEE.  NORTH-SOUTH.  T is the cross, of course.   AND THE CROSS-ROADS.  It is the hammer of force: Twin Axes.  IT IS A CHARM AGAINST DISEASE.  Anthrax.  LOOK AT HIM OVER THERE, PRAYING FOR DISEASE.  Anthrax, smallpox, bubonic plague.  Evil comes to the Infidels.  GET HIM OUT OF HERE.  This is insane.  What is happening to us?  PETER, YOU ARE THE ROCK.  SHOW HIM THE DOOR.  Truman, he is your friend.  PUT AN 'X' ON THE FOREHEADS OF THE RIGHTEOUS, THOSE WHO BEMOAN THE HORRORS COMMITTED IN JERUSALEM.  WHEN THE ANGEL OF DEATH COMES THROUGH THE CITY, ONLY THOSE MARKED WITH AN 'X' WILL BE SPARED.  I see.  MAKE A SIGN IN THE SNOW.  AND WE SHALL BE ALLIES. X.  X.  X.  X.  X.  X.  X.  X.  X.  10.  X.  X.  SOMEONE DID NOT SIGN.  Allies of light against the darkness.  WITH CROSSMANN AS OUR LEADER.  Yes.  THE MAN WHO MAKES THE SIGN OF THE CROSS.  They do not fight our armies, because they cannot defeat our armies.  They fight us by murdering our women and children.  WHAT ARE WE SPEAKING ABOUT NOW?  Let the decent people unite, in me, against the worshipers of death, the archons of destruction.  Those who hate life and change and nature would seek to poison us and murder us in our sleep.  KARMA CAUSE, HEY?  Reaping and sowing.  WHAT?  We have made enimies through the behavior of our foreign policy.  LIBERAL TRIPE!  YOU ARE EITHER WITH US OR AGAINST US!  YOU EITHER FIGHT WITH US OR WITH THEM.  It is a new religion, through Crossmann, that will unite the decent of all cultures in a new truth.  BE HIGH.  BE GOOD.  BE TRUTHFUL.  DO NOT HATE.  Truths for a New Age.

 

    1.  The oneness of humankind.

    2.  Independent investigations of truth.

    3.  The foundation of all religions is one.

    4.  Religion must be the cause of unity.

    5.  Intuitive knowledge completes that of reason.

    6.  All living beings are sacred.

    7.  Equality between men and women.

    8.  Prejudice of all kinds must be forgotten.

    9.  Individual responsibility leads to the welfare of all.

    10. There must be: universal peace; universal education; a spiritual

         solution to the economic problem; a universal language,

                     English; an international tribunal which truly governs the world.

 

YES. Recall that the Zohar states that Tiphereth (which is directly associated with Messiah), is the originator of the Neshamah, which connects us to God in faith.  The "New Testament" states that Yeshua fills a similar role:  Hebrews 12:2a - Looking unto Yeshua, the author and finisher of our faith.  Tiphereth is equivalent to grasping the essence of God. The relationship between the centralized, harmonizing Tiphereth and the invisible Ain Soph, can again be compared to that of Yeshua and the invisible God.  This gives us a better understanding of two verses quoted earlier in this study:  Romans 8:29 - For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son ...  Colossians 1:15 - Who is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of every creature.  One can grasp the image of the invisible God throught Tiphereth, due to its embodiment of the characteristics of all the Sephiroth.  The Messiah's encompassing relationship to the Sephiroth (also called spirits of God) and to Da'ath, (knowledge) is seen in this prophetic verse:  Isaiah 11:2 - The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him-- the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD.  This same Messiah (whom the Spirit of the Lord rests on), will usher in the Day of the Lord and Jubilee Release, a time when  all things are brought into beauty and harmony:  Isaiah 61:1-3 - The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me; because the LORD hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.  Revelation 21:3-4 - And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.  MOSES HAS MANY BOOKS IN HIS POCKET.  He has a memory of an elephant.  EEE.  The Egyptian hieroglyph of two crossed sticks represented separation, a breaking apart.  WAR.  Disagreemennt.  ASSASSINATION.  The splitting apart; but also th mark of alliance.  ONE CROSSED STICK IS THE HEART; AND THE OTHER IS THE TRACHEA.  St. Blaise, please protect us from the evil powers of this man and his anthrax.  LIFE MADE POSSIBLE THROUGH BLOOD AND BREATH; THAT IS, THE PATH TOWARD PERFECTABILITY.  Completion: two separate parts are put back together to form a whole.  TAV.  Vat.  THEY WILL TORTURE HIM IN A VAT OF BOILING OIL.  Shut up, Saduj.  AVATAR MAITREYA.  Annointed with sacred oil.  ARCH OF BEAUTY.  ARCH OF TRUTH.  Bringing the broken in to balance.  AVT MEANS THE SAME AS TAV.

 

9

T

1

A

6

V

 

 

16

 

 

16 is the Tower.  Venus Acting Through Mars Upon Mercury, The Victory Over Splendor, Avenging Force.  10 PLUS 6.  The Totality Plus the Divine Nature of Tiphereth.  HE SEIZED, CLEAVED TO.  Evlevated, exalted, high.  INJURY, WAR, LUST; FELL.  She; ALAS; WOE.  Like or equal to.  ALL EQUAL 16.  M plus C.  MONEY IS NOT ENOUGH.  CASH IS NOT THE TRUTH, SIR.  MJC: Magic.  The Magic of love; the magic of truth; the magic of justice.  WHICH IS BALANCE, OR BEAUTY.  The word 'OT' (OX and TAV) in the bible designates the rainbow, circumcision, and the sabbath: all designating an alliance, a treaty, a covenant between God and Man.  WHO HAS A COVENANT WITH THE ANTI-MAN THEN?  Do you really need to ask that?  WHAT IS SATAN'S NUMBER?  The number of 'OT' is 79.  7 PLUS 9 IS 16.  17, the number of Tiphereth; and 26, the number of Tetragrammaton (IHVH); and 36, the number of the Anti-Chrit, when added together equal 79 -- the covenant.  THE COVENANT BETWEEN JESUS CHRIST, THE GOD JEHOVAH, AND THE ANTI-CHRIST.  7 plus 9 equals 16.

 

70

O

Conjunction, Union, Meeting

4

D

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

79

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YOU ASK ABOUT THE NUMBER OF SATAN.  IN HEBREW IT IS OUR FAVORITE NUMBER, 111

 

 

60

S

1

A

9

T

1

A

40

N

 

 

111

 

 

IN ENGLISH, IT IS 55.  WHICH IS THE SUM OF THE NUMBERS 1 THROUGH 10, THE KINGDOM OF MALKUTH, THE END OF THE WORLD.  Ten is the end of the world.  ELEVEN IS THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD.

 

19

S

1

A

20

T

1

A

14

N

 

 

55

 

 

1

1

2

3

3

6

4

10

5

15

6

21

7

28

8

36

9

45

10

55

 

The world is made by the separation of the Christ and the anti-Christ principles  The world is completed by the re-union of the Christ and the anti-Christ, the principles of matter and anti-matter, anti-spirit and spirit.  The number 111 is the beginning of the new world, prior to its separation into parts.  WE ARE ALSO WHAT WE HAVE LOST.  You are, yourself, two sides of a coin.  FIRST AND LAST.  LAST AND FIRST.  I am also myself and mine own enemy.  When I kill my enemy, I also kill myself.  55 IS THIEF, ROBBERY (GNB), PILLAGE (GZYLH), SILENCE (DVMH); ALSO IT IS BRIDE (KLH) AND NOON, MID-DAY (NGB).  God creates and then withdraws from the totality.  The seventh day, the sabbath, is the withdrawn space, rest, a place for the heart of humanity to reflect.  REMEMBERS, THE GODS CREATE THE WORLD; AND THE DEVILS DESTROY IT.  The two brothers.  TIPHERETH DRAWS TWO PARTS TOGETHER INTO A WHOLE.  Paul makes the mystical statement that the rock (or 'well') that followed the children of Israel in the Wilderness was Yeshua. The Zohar gives a description of this rock as holding the characteristics of Tiphereth -- a combination of both judgment and mercy, and also a reflection of God Himself:  Geburah emanates from her. Therefore She is called 'Supernal Rock'. And in the same verse the words, 'And hast forgotten God that formed thee' refer to the brightness of the Father, viz. the Supernal Grace.Õ R. Abba further said: ÔWe know that 'water'  everywhere symbolizes God's kindness, 'Grace', and yet the Holy One, blessed be He, on this occasion caused water to come from the 'Rock' (the symbol of Judgement), though it ought to be connected with 'Greatness' (or Grace). In this, however, consisted the 'sign' and wonder of the Holy One: 'Who turned the Rock into a pool' (Psalm CXIV, 8). 'Turned' suggests that it is not the usual function of the rock to produce water. Therefore He caused water to come from the place below by means of the Supernal Rock.  And what is the name of the place below? 'Sela', for it is written: 'And thou shalt bring forth to them water out of the rock ('selaÕ)' (Numbers, xx, 8). And wherewith did this selaÕ bring forth water? By the power of the Supernal Rock.Õ  SELA IS THE NUMBER 96.  WHICH IS ALSO THE NUMBER OF A NAME OF GOD (AL ADNY), THE CHALDEAN FORM OF ALHYM (ALHYN), 'BY DAY' (YVMM), PRAISWORTHY (LLHAL), WORK (MLAKH),  AND THE SECRET COUNSEL OF THE LORD (SVD YHVH).  The 'Rock' or 'Well' is closely associated with the Sephirah of Yesod, which I will discuss later.  The Zohar states that Tiphereth itself, may be considered, the 'central pillar' of the Tree of Life: Thus it is possible to speak of a Ôstraight lineÕ from Kether to Tiphereth, and to designate Tiphereth the Ôcentral pillarÕ.  The following section of the Zohar indicates how the central column of the Sephiroth (i.e., Tiphereth), is the perfect will of God that holds the merciful and judgmental columns in harmony. This section goes so far to say that the three must be in agreement before God makes a 'final decision' to pass judgment. However, the Zohar says, even when this has happened, true repentance can still move the merciful side of God to reconsider: They all rose and prostrated themselves before him, saying, Ôhappy the man whose Master agrees with him in the exposition of hidden mysteries which have not been revealed to the holy angels.Õ He proceeded: ÔFriends, we must expound the rest of the verse, since it contains many hidden mysteries. The next words are: I kill and make alive, etc. That is to say, through the Sephiroth on the right side I make alive, and through the Sephiroth on the left side I kill; but if the Central Column does not concur, sentence cannot be passed, since they form a court of three. Sometimes, even when  they all three agree to condemn, there comes the right hand which is outstretched to receive those that repent; this is the YHVH, and it is also the Shekinah, which is called 'right hand', from the side of Chesed (kindness).   An example of the above teaching, that judgment can be suspended even after God has 'made up His mind,' would be when God sent Jonah to preach to Ninevah. His instructions to Jonah were not to 'warn' Ninevah. Rather, God said they were going to be destroyed. There was no offer of repentance attached. As the story goes, Ninevah, without being told to, immediately repented, and God's judgment on that generation was withdrawn.  As mentioned earlier, Jacob was a picture of the Messiah to come, in that he had the qualities that balanced the merciful and judgmental sides of God in perfect harmony. Here the idea of Jacob unifying 'tents,' takes on a mystical meaning of harmonizing the pillars of the Tree of Life.  Rabbi Simeon, we are told, explained thus the words, 'And the middle bar in the midst of the boards shall pass from one end to the other.' Ô 'The middle bar', he said, Ôsignifies Jacob, the perfect saint, as we have pointed out on another occasion in connection with the characterization of Jacob as 'a complete man, dwelling in tents' (Gen. xxv, 27). It does not say, 'dwelling in a tent', but 'dwelling in tentsÕ, which denotes that he unified the two 'tents' (of Severity and Mercy).  The same implication may be found here: 'The middle bar in the midst of the boards shall pass from one end to the other', uniting them. Jacob was perfect in regard to both sides, the Holy Ancient and the Microprosopus, and also to the supernal Grace and the supernal Power, harmonizing the two.Õ  R. Simeon said further: ÔI perceive that Wisdom (ÔChokmah) is the totality of all the holy Sephiroth, and that supernal Grace (Chesed) emanates from Wisdom, and Power (Geburah), which is the prompter of severe judgement, from Understanding (Binah). Jacob harmonized both sides: the Fathers (Abraham and Isaac) signified the totality of all, and Jacob signified the union of the Fathers. Then came the merit of Jacob and synthesized both and made them one, for he signifies supernal harmony.Õ   T IS MARK, SYMBOL, MEETING, ALLIANCE, COMPLETION, COMPLETING, COMPLETE, WHOLE, MUTUAL, PERFECT, PERFECTION, PRECISION, TRACE, BREATH AND BLOOD, VITAL ENERGY, END OF A PROCESS, WITHDRAWAL, LOSS, CREATIVE VACUUM.  But there is a second form of the T.

 

                                                           

 

THE T OF THE TET.  The Head.  THE NEW YEAR.  The shield.  OX.  The man carrying a shield.  The city protected by the shield.  THE SNAKE BITES ITS OWN TAIL.  Eternity.  OX.  Eternity.  THE INHABITED CITY TRYING TO PROTECT ITSELF FROM SOMETHING FOREIGN.  The cross inside the circle disappeared; and the city opened up.  OX BECOMING OMICRON.                                                    

                                                           

 

Ahh.  S-S-S-watch Tika.

 

                                                           

 

AHH, BIG MISTAKE.  The 'Tet' became the 'Theta' in Greek and Etruscan; but it did not pass into Latin.  DISAPPEARING INTO SOMETHING.  But not the omicron.  YES.  Covering, cover, place, preserve; protection, resistance; rampart, sanctuary; safety; roof. 

 

                                   

 

 

 

AND THERE IS A THIRD T.  Three crosses on a hill.  Chesed on the right; Geburah on the left; Tiphereth in the center.  THE ONE WHO SYNTHESIZES; AND MAKES WHOLE.  Tsadeh did not come into Latin either.  IT IS THE FISH-HOOK.  THE ANCHOR.  The force traveling into the deep.  TSADEH STOPS MOVEMENT.  IT STOPS THE FUTURE.  Evil is when the Soul has no choice but to live in the present.  CAPTURE; PREPARE AN AMBUSH; OBSERVE; SEDUCE, CAPTIVATE; TO FISH, TO HUNT; TO STOP THE FUTURE; DETAIN, CAPTURE.  THE THROWN HARPOON.  Ishmael threw the harpoon.  ISHMAEL WATCHED.  The wild ass of a man.  A PLANE PASSING OVERHEAD, HEADING SOUTH.  I REMEMBER THAT.  I REMEMBER HEARING IT.  Ishmael may have been the Arab in the Bible; but he was not the Arab in Moby Dick.  ALTHOUGH IT WAS A BOAT-LOAD OF ARABS.  Arabs and Christians and Quakers and Paganos.  AMERICA?  Use your own interpretation, friend.  I am not here to curse my friends and neighbors.  MISAL LOADED: LET'S BURN ALL THE BOOKS IN THE LIBRARY AT ALEXANDRIA.  A sign of Cancer surely.  CANCER EMANCIPATION.  God lets the Dogs of Hell run loose for a day.  IS THAT TRUE?  Let's rape all the women and kill all the men and make slaves of the children.  And if we die we will immediatly be transported to heaven, where we men will be met by 16-year-old virgins with big breasts for our sexual delight.  War is good.  We either get to rape the women of our enemy; or go to heaven to sleep with the beautiful dark-eyed Houris.  In heaven we shall have as much wine as we wish to drink; also, we shall have water in abundance.  TIPHERETH IS THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS.  The book of Malachi contains a mystical allusion to a Sun of Righteousness, even referring to this 'Sun' as a person. The context clearly shows that Sun of righteousness is another name for the Messiah, who will usher in the Day of the Lord and subsequent healing of all things (Rev. 22:1-3).  Malachi 4:1-6 - For, behold, the day cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble: and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the LORD of hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor branch. But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall. And ye shall tread down the wicked; for they shall be ashes under the soles of your feet in the day that I shall do this, saith the LORD of hosts. Remember ye the law of Moses my servant, which I commanded unto him in Horeb for all Israel, with the statutes and judgments.  Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the LORD: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.  The Zohar makes a connection between Tiphereth and this 'Sun.' This passage states that to grasp the Sun is equivalent to grasping all the grades as the Sun is said to be a Tabernacle, representing of all the grades (Sephiroth):  Because of this current, we have a true Faith in this world, and all mankind can discourse of the mystery of the Faith of the Holy One in connection with these grades, as if they were revealed to and not hidden from them. Therefore it says: 'And their words to the end of the world' -- which means that from the beginning to the end of the world the 'wise of heart' discourse of those hidden grades although they cannot be comprehended. And how far are they comprehended? 'In them hath he set a tent for the sun' because the holy sun [Tiphereth] is as a tabernacle of all those supreme grades, and is as a light which has taken into itself all the hidden lights and the whole current of their extension, whereby Faith is manifested in the whole world.  To grasp the Sun is equivalent to grasping all grades, because the sun is a 'tent' including all and absorbing all; and he in turn lights up all the shining colours below. Hence 'He is a bridegroom coming forth from his canopy (covering)' in the gleam and flash of those hidden lights which in strong yearning and desire give him tokens of their love, as to a bridegroom to whom all his friends give presents and gifts. And what is 'his covering'?  Eden, the 'covering' which covers up all things. 'He rejoiceth' from the side of the primeval light in which judgment has no place at all. 'As a strong man' (gibbor) - from the side of 'strength' (Geburah); and note that it does not say here 'a strong man', but 'as a strong man', which means that Judgment is tempered by Mercy.   Thus the sun gathers all together in one, in perfect devotion and love. 'To run on the way', in order to nourish and complement the Moon on every side and make it possible for her to shed her light downwards.  'His going forth is from the end of the heaven'. He goes forth from the end of that supernal heaven, from the termination [Yesod] of the Body, as it is written, 'From one end of heaven to the other end of the heaven' (Deuteronomy, IV, 32); where the 'one end' designates the upper world, and the 'other end' its termination. 'And his circuit unto the ends of it': he (the sun) runs through all those holy regions that are capable of being vivified and nourished by his rays. 'And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof': nothing is hidden from that radiance, for it is directed towards all together, to each according to its capacity of reception.  The following text also has reference to the 'Sun' containing aspects of all the 'grades' (sephirot). Here the sun is representative of YHWH and 'shield' of Elohim: R. Jose then continued to discourse, citing the verse: 'For the Lord God (YHWH ELOHIM) is a sun and a shield; the Lord giveth grace and glory; no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly' (Psalms, LXXXIV, 12). ÔThe 'sun', he said, Ôcontains the mystery of the Divine Name YHWH, wherein is the abode of rest of all the grades, whereas 'shield' contains the mystery of the Divine Name ELOHIM; the same is indicated in 'I am thy shield' (Genesis. XV, 1).  The two together, sun and shield, constitute thus the mystery of the Divine Name complete: 'the Lord giveth grace and glory', so that the whole should merge into a unity.  The kabbalistic 'tree of life' containing 'all of the grades/Sephiroth can be said to be a representation of the Messiah.  At the end of the age, the Messiah is 'kissed' by God, given His proper adoration, and commence vengeance upon His enemies:  He shall take out from a certain temple in it a crown inscribed with holy names. It was with this crown that the Holy One adorned Himself when the Israelites crossed the Red Sea and He avenged Himself on all the chariots of Pharaoh and his horsemen. With this same crown will He crown King Messiah. As soon as he is crowned, the Holy One will take him and kiss him as before. All the holy multitude and the whole holy army will surround him and will bestow upon him many wonderful gifts, and he will be adorned by them all. Then will he enter into one of the temples and behold there all the upper angels, who are called 'the mourners of Zion' because they continually weep over the destruction of the Holy Temple. These angels shall give him a robe of deep red in order that he may commence his work of revenge.  HE COMMENCES VENGEANCE ON HIS ENEMIES.  Yes.  TALIBAN.  TALIBAN.  Give him his robe of deep red, if you will.  HIS CLAIM IS THAT HE IS JESUS CHRIST RETURNED.  JESUS CHRIST DID NOT WEAR THE CLOAK OF RED.  He wore the cloak of red: the red was his own blood he has shed.  BUT HE DID NOT WEAR THE CLOAK OF CONQUEROR, THE CLOAK OF VENGEANCE.  Is he the man of compassion and peace; or is he the man of passion, and warfare?  HE HAS RAGE IN HIS BELLY TOO.  Do you feel his rage now?  I AM NOT SURE WHAT I FEEL.  And what of this Tiphereth story?  Why now?  Really, how is it supposed to move us?  A CROSSROADS WHERE THE TWO WORLDS MEET.  A MIRROR IN WHICH THE SOUL MUST CONFRONT HIS TRUE NATURE.  Godot.  TO DOG.  TO DOG WE ARE GOING.  GOING GHOST, GONE AND GUSTY.  Gang Green.  WHAT?  Next letter.  U.  The you is connected to the Vav.  The vee.  YOU AND DOUBLE YOU.  Ce soir.  MOUNTING BOCEPHUS.  Is that some kind of toxin send thorugh the mail?  ANTHRAX ABRAXAS.  It is written that God will send his Son again into the world; and the Son shall bring with Him a new religion.  A religion to complete, not to overthrow, the old religions. 

 

At that time there shall arise

Michael, the great prince,

Guardian of your people;

It shall be a time unsurpassed in distress

Since nations began until that time.

At that time your people shall escape,

Everyone who is found written in the book.

Many of those who sleep

In the dust of the earth shall awake;

Some shall live for ever,

Others shall be an everlasting horror and disgrace.

But the wise shall sine brightly,

Like the splendor of the firmament;

And those who lead the many to justice

Shall be like the stars for ever.

 

MNA: To sacrifice to death is folly.  ThKL: Thy kingdom shall be fortunate, for it is just.  PRSh: The Tower of thy glory shall endure until the Last Day.  1121.  NOCHT NOCHT.  Who is there?  Ab ra ham.  3 GODS IN ONE?  Father Sun and black destroyer.  270.  Yod Nun Resh Yod.  ThPVChYM.  Holi RRRed Abbles Rubl Rabl.  YOD NUN RESH YOD.  Jesus Nazareaeus Rex Judaeorum; Igni Natural Renovata Integra; Intra Nobis Regnum Dei; Isis Naturae Regina Ineffabilis.  SINAI.  131.  IN SINAI THE GOD COMES DOWN AND ENTERS HIS MOTHER'S WOMB.  The Moon.  19 TROPICAL YEARS; 235 MONTHS OF THE MOON.  Sinai is the mountain of the moon; Sin is the Babylonian moon god.  Sinclair is where Michael Crossmann was born and lived.  SINAI, TOO, WAS WHERE THE ALPHABET WAS CONCEIVED.

 

60

S

10

I

50

N

1

A

10

I

 

 

131

 

 

60

S

Samael, Satan

40

M

 

 

1

A

 

 

30

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

131

 

 

 

 

80

P

1

A

50

N

 

 

131

 

 

40

M

Title of Kether: The Crowned One

20

K

 

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

 

60

S

 

 

 

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

131

 

 

 

 

 

 

YOU WILL NOTE THAT EACH OF THESE HAS HORNS, LIKE LUCIFER.  He was angry (ANP); nose (APPYM); turn, roll (APM); angel NLKAL, in the Six of Chalices, serving the Lord of Pleasure.  YOU DID NOT MENTION THAT SINAI HAS NO HORNS.  The crescent moon has horns.  AYE.  BUT SINAI WAS THE MOUNTAIN WHERE GOD, THE SOLITARY GOD, GAVE MOSES HIS CODE OF LAW.  In the face of the devil and the Lord.  ON THE MOUNTAIN ARE THE TWO SONS, PRIOR TO THEIR LONG DIVISION.  A remaining whole; B being separated from A.  ALEPH AND BETH.  ALEPH AND BETH.  AND BETH RIDING AWAY ON THE CAMEL.  Punic punks arguing about fact in the library.  BIBS LOST IN THE RESULTANT MELEE.  Set down in a secular phoenish.  SET BEING THE BLACK GOD WHO KILLED HIS ABEL BROTHER.  Sinai, the birthplace of universal law.  GIVER OF THE CHILD, THE SON, WHO WILL CARRY THE WORD OF THE FATHER INTO THE WORLD.  Through the power of love.

 

 

 

 

MAGIC SQUARE OF NETZACH/VENUS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

525

 

1575

525

525

525

525

525

525

525

1575

 

525

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1575

 

175

175

175

175

175

175

175

175

175

 

1575

525

 

175

22

47

16

41

10

35

4

175

 

525

525

 

175

5

23

48

17

42

11

29

175

 

525

525

 

175

30

6

24

49

18

36

12

175

 

525

525

 

175

13

31

7

25

43

19

37

175

 

525

525

 

175

38

14

32

1

26

44

20

175

 

525

525

 

175

21

39

8

33

2

27

45

175

 

525

525

 

175

46

15

40

9

34

3

28

175

 

525

1575

 

175

175

175

175

175

175

175

175

175

 

1575

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

525

 

1575

525

525

525

525

525

525

525

1575

 

525

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 1-49

 

1225

 

X Cross:

1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Y Cross:

7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Center:

 

25

 

VENUS IS 7 TIMES 7; SO 7 SEEMS TO BE HIS NUMBER.  The Sun is 6 times 6; so his number seems to be 6.  JUPITER IS 4 TIMES 4; SO 4 SEEMS TO BE HIS NUMBER.  Saturn is 3 times 3; so 3 seems to be his number.  MARS IS 5 TIMES 5; SO 5 SEEMS TO BE HIS NUMBER.  Mercury is 8 times 8; so 8 seems to be his number.  THE MOON IS 9 TIMES 9; SO 9 SEEMS TO BE HIS NUMBER.  The Earth is 10 times 10; so 10 seems to be his number.  NLKAL IS THE ANGEL OF 131, THE LORD OF PLEASURES.  NKYAL is the angel of 111, the angel of the Sun.

 

50

N

20

K

10

Y

1

A

30

L

 

 

111

 

 

 

1

A

Adam The Red

4

D

 

 

 

40

M

 

 

 

6

V

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

111

 

 

 

 

 

THIS NUMBER-STUFF IS DRIVING ME MAD.  Mad?  Or Mad through the annihilation of reason by illumination?  WHAT?  Michael prepares the armies of heaven to advance against the armies of hell.  Is not that what is happening now?

 

 

 

 

MAGIC SQUARE OF MARS/GEBURAH

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

455

 

65

65

65

65

65

65

65

 

455

 

 

195

 

65

11

24

7

20

3

65

 

195

 

 

195

 

65

4

12

25

8

16

65

 

195

 

 

195

 

65

17

5

13

21

9

65

 

195

 

 

195

 

65

10

18

1

14

22

65

 

195

 

 

195

 

65

23

6

19

2

15

65

 

195

 

 

455

 

65

65

65

65

65

65

65

 

455

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

455

195

195

195

195

195

455

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

X Cross:

1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 1-25

325

 

Y Cross:

5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Center:

 

13

 

THE ARMIES OF HEAVEN?  I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  The Armies of the North.  Russia, Japan, Europe, North America.  Do they not now prepare to retaliate against a surly Islam of the South?  THESE ARE TWO GREAT RELIGIOUS HERITAGES BEGINNING TO SQUARE OFF.  Have we come to this?  A quiet gardener -- to this?  IS THIS WHAT OUR PRAYER IS ALL ABOUT?  FINDING AN ENEMY, AN EVIL NATURE TO DESTROY?  Perhaps that is it.  THERE IS ADAM; AND THERE IS ADAM THE RED; ADAM SECONDUS.

 

1

A

4

D

40

M

 

 

45

 

 

AND ADAM CONNECTS WITH SATURN.  Yes, we remember all that.  AND VENUS IS NUMJBER 7.  I felt more comfortable in the sphere of letters.  HE KNOWS HIS LETTER FROM HIS SNAKE.  I felt more comfortable seeking the root beyond the root.  ARE YOU ARGUING, WITH MISTER SLAIN, THAT THE ALPHABET KILLED MATRIARCHY AND IMAGE?  Ahh, it is a sad case in some ways.  He argues for the nascence.  Of course, humanity began in darkness.  The individual child begins in darkness.  The child begins in the mother, as the seed begins in the earth.  The child begins under the mother, close to the mother, instructed, first by the moon, still in darkness.  But as, today, the male child at last is taken away from his mother, taught to emulate his father; and as all children now are taught the importance and the power of the written word, and of literacy, so the human race also makes a similar pattern of behavior.  Away from the mother.  The seed becomes the tree, becomes the fruit on the treee -- which is sequence, or Time.  The fruit is farthest away from the mother, the earth.  But then it falls back down to Earth, where it is nurtured, buried, and returns again as a force of nature.  AFTER A PERIOD OF REST.  IN SOME CASES A LONG PERIOD OF REST.  And civilization is the fruit?  OF COURSE.  THE FRUIT IS DEMOCRACY.  THE PERIOD OF MAN'S FREEDOM; AND HIS GREATEST INDEPENDENCE AND STATURE.  Democracy, Chaos, Theology, Aristocracy.  BUT WHY DO WE WANDER HERE, SO DEEPLY ALONG THIS CHANNEL OF BRUISED INTELLECT.  Why are we coming back to Adam?  IT'S BECAUSE OF THAT SHADOW OLD MARZIPHAN THREW OVER THE GROUP.  CASTING A SHADOW LIKE A BIG OLD BLACK BIRD.  RANTING ON ABOUT MOHAMMED THE WAY HE DID.  DRUNK.  HIS EYES ALL RED FROM MAD ANTICIPATION.  A SPECTRE.  Nahris Nahris.  MENTOR OF DEATH.  Mister Glad-to-be-slain.  SHE-LAIN.  Yes.  SHE LAYS DOWN AND WANTS THE ENTIRE WORLD TO LIE DOWN WITH HER.  TO ENTER HER HOLY VAGINA AND TO GIVE HER REST, SETTLING IN TO SLEEP.  The man buries his seed into the woman; then the man disappears for a time.  THE MAN DISAPPEARS.  WHERE DOES HE GO?  DOES SHE KILL HIM THEN?  He leaves.  He goes up in to the sky, seeking his God.  And his son is born, needing to become the new man.  THIS IS ALL JUST A MIND SKETCHING WILDLY -- ISN'T IT?  What?  In the snow?  YES, IN THE SNOW.  Snow is 333.  I UNDERSTAND.  Do you still smell burning flesh?  DUSTY, WANDERING HUMAN FLESH.  Flesh of every color and religion.  MENWOMENANDCHILDREN.  Is it hell then that we smell?  OR IS IT AN ACT OF HELL?  The dark force is in the South, in the quarter sacred to Gabriel.  AND MICHAEL IS IN THE WEST.  And where is Raphael?  Is he not in the East?  AND THAT MAKES OF URIEL A NORTHERN FORCE.  Jepr Crpr where'd you get that pepr.  Jepr Crpr, where'd you get that salt?  THE OLD SALT SEA.  Full Cain, elemental force that he is.  SODIUM, MERCURY AND WHAT ELSE?  White, Black and in-between?  ADD THE FLAME; THE TUNIC TOWER BECOMES YOUR POWER BROKER.  Torah Torah Torah!   TOWER TOWER T.......TUMBLER MUMBLER!  He's back!  WHO IS BACK?  Jumbalaya.  IN A CRAWFISH PIE.  Fillet.  GUMBO.  Looking like Shim Shim, the capet man.  SHIM SHAM, A LEG OF LAM.  Looking more like Water Woman, the Wagging Whale, Weeper of Weeks, Walloper of Worlds Worlds.  GET THEE TO OMAHA.  Ahamo.  LOOKING MORE LIKE SIRHAN SIRHAN BY THE MOMENT.  Does he have a pistol in his pocket?  IS THAT CROSSMANN'S PISTOL IN HIS POCKET!  Shh!  WHAT?  That's no pistol.  HE'S SAYING SOMETHING.  Does he plan to kill Crossmann?  ASSASSIN!  ASSASSIN!  Shh!  HE IS SPEAKING AGAIN.  In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.  Perdition overtake both hands of Abu Lahab, and he will perish.  His wealth and what he earns will not avail him.  He shall soon burn in fire that flames, and his wife, the bearer of fuel, upon her neck a halter of strongly twisted rope.  SAVE ME FROM THE EVIL OF THE ENVIOUS WHEN HE ENVIES.  They desire that you should disbelieve as they have disbelieved, so that you might be (all) alike; therefore take not from among them friends until they fly (their homes) in Allah's way; but if they turn back, then seize them and kill them wherever you find them, and take not from among them a friend or a helper.  TO WHOM ARE YOU SPEAKING, FRIEND?  Fight those who believe not in Alleh.  When ye encounter the unbelievers, strike off their heads, until he have made a great slaughter of them.  HE IS MAD!  Kanuj, we shall remember you!  HE IS NOT IN HIS RIGHT HEAD, TRUMAN!  A woman in many ways is deprived of the possession of her own body.  Even her milk belongs to her husband.  TRY TO CALM HIM, TRUMAN!  If a man is in a mood to have sexual intercourse, the wife must come immediately even if she is baking bread at a communal oven.  THIS WAR ON WOMEN HAS STUNTED THE GROWTH OF THE ARAB COMMUNITY.  ALL THE WORLD GROWS AND DEVELOPS.  THEY REMAIN DEAD, A THIRD CENTURY ENTITY.  On the Day of Judgment, a husband shall not be questioned for beating his wife.  SEND HIM AWAY, TO THE LAND OF NOD, EAST OF EDEN.  The temperate zone is rich because of snow, rich because of freeze.  THE NORTH IS HEAVEN; THE SOUTH IS HELL.  The freeze is the north kills off disease and bacteria.  Poisonous snakes are very rare.  TEA TEA TEA.  Yes.  TIP A CANOE AND TYLER TOO.  Tip a titular tome; and time a tempo too.  TIP A TIP FOR TET.  FOR TETH.  Drawing the two sides to the center.  The heart inside the system.   TIPHERETH.  AND JACOB'S LADDER.   Aye.  ALL HIS STAIRS COWLING.  Jacob dreamed of a ladder reaching from earth to heaven. The following section of the Zohar indicates that by this dream, Jacob comprehended the unity (harmony) of the Sephiroth: Jacob was beholden to dreams.  AND BEHOLD, THE LORD STOOD (nitsab) UPON IT. Here Jacob discerned the essential unity of the object of faith. This is implied in the term nitsab (firmly knit), which implies that Jacob saw all grades stationed as one on that ladder so as to be knit into one whole. And inasmuch as that ladder is situated between two sides, God said to him: I AM THE LORD, THE GOD OF ABRAHAM THY FATHER, AND THE GOD OF ISAAC , these two being respectively of the two sides, one of the right and the other of the left. As we have explained, Tiphereth is an image of the Ain Soph, the invisible God. As such, Tiphereth is the mystical key to salvation, becoming conformed to the image of God, and growing in intimacy in our relationship with God.  If one could outline a 'process' to what has been presented thus far, it might look like this: When man focuses on his spiritual self (Ruach) and does not seek his own righteousness, but rather  seeks God's Kingdom (Malkut) through humility, study of the law and prayer, he will receive Neshemah from God and ;connect' with the Ruach ha Kodesh, which will draw him to God and provide him with a certain level of God's Chokmah (Wisdom), which embodies all the Sephiroth within it. With this knowlege of the Sephiroth, he is enabled to understand that Tiphereth is the; Holy Sun, Temple, Bridegroom, Messiah, giver of the Neshemah, author of our faith, and as the 'tabernacle of all those supreme grades,' is also a reflection of the Eyn Sof.  He can then begin to understand how Yeshua can be the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15) and is Elohim, who tabernacled among us in the flesh (John, chapter 1) and will come again to judge the world.  (Note: We will deal with the dual role of Yeshua, as the suffering servant and judge of the world, in our study of Yesod.)   There are numerous additional references to the Sephirah Tiphereth in Jewish literature, that can be connected to the Tenakh, the Messiah, and the 'New Testament'. The next two sections of this study will further clarify the connection between Messiah and Tiphereth.  WHAT IS IT ALL ABOUT-- THIS MOSES.  HE IS A RABBINICAL STUDENT, ISN'T HE.  He seems more like an angel protecting Crossmann.  BY GOD, I THINK YOU ARE RIGHT.  He looks like a boy-angel.  YES.  A BOY-ANGEL.  What's his relation to Ginsberg?  CAREFUL.  WHEN YOU PRONOUNCE A SPIRIT'S NAME YOU INVOKE IT TO APPEAR AGAIN.  What?  DON'T SPEAK HIS NAME.  BY DOING SO, YOU COMMAND HIM TO RE-ENTER YOUR LIFE.  I don't understand that.  OH, SMELL THAT SMELL!  It's like someone died!  BABY CAN YOU SMELL THAT SMELL!  Yes.  Coming in.  A big shadow. 

 

       Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland

              where you're madder than I am

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you must feel very strange

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you imitate the shade of my mother

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you've murdered your twelve secretaries

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you laugh at this invisible humor

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where we are great writers on the same dreadful

              typewriter

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where your condition has become serious and

              is reported on the radio

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where the faculties of the skull no longer admit

              the worms of the senses

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you drink the tea from the breasts of the

              spinsters of Utica

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the

              harpies of the Bronx

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you scream in a straightjacket that you're

              losing the game of the actual pingpong of the

              abyss

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul

              is innocent and immortal it should never die

              ungodly in an armed madhouse

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where fifty more shocks will never return your

              soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a

              cross in the void

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you accuse your doctors of insanity and

              plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the

              fascist national Golgotha

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where you will split the heavens of Long Island

              and resurrect your living human Jesus from the

              superhuman tomb

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where there are twenty-five-thousand mad com-

              rades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where we hug and kiss the United States under

              our bedsheets the United States that coughs all

              night and won't let us sleep

       I'm with you in Rockland

              where we wake up electrified out of the coma

              by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the

              roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the

              hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls col-

              lapse O skinny legions run outside O starry

              spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is

              here O victory forget your underwear we're

              free

       I'm with you in Rockland

              in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-

              journey on the highway across America in tears

              to the door of my cottage in the Western night

 

A LONG SIGH.  Is he done?  INDEED.  Plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha.  INDEED.  The Jewish conscience and the Christian swastika.  WHERE NOW IS YOUR UNGODLY RULE?  More corpeses in Stalingrad and Beijing and Campuchea than even in Auschwitz or Treblinka.  EVIL HERE AND EVIL THERE.  Your idolatry of the working class again is an arrow falling short of its mark.  THERE ARE TWENTY-FIVE-THOUSAND MAD COMRADES ALL TOGETHER IN A BELLEVUE BASEMENT SINGING THE FINAL STANZAS OF THE SOLZHENITSYN CHRISTIAN FIDELIO.  Each accompanied by an angel wearing a Star of David, believe it or not Allen.  GULAG GARCON GRACES ANTI-GOD'S GOLDEN GREEK GARDEN, GUIDING GIDEON INTO GAELIC GORE.  GINZA GINZA.  Each extreme.  YES?  Each extreme is evil and needs to be undone.  I SEE.  Poor man of the 1960's.  If you remain immobile in any position in an environment that moves, you will become the reactionary.  IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO MERELY BE FOR THE POOR ALL THE TIME.  Sometimes God is with the poor; and sometimes he is not.  AND YOU -- YOU WHO CLAIM TO BE THE EMBODIMENT OF THIS GOD?  A man who can work must work if he would eat.  A man who cannot work, because he is injured or feeble: this man must be helped by those blessed by God.  THE WAY THAT ISLAM TREATS WOMEN IS A TRAVESTY.  A CRIME AGAINST GOD'S INTENT.  It is not God who hates women -- it is the Devil who hates women.  WHO IS SAYING THAT?  IS THAT CROSSMANN'S VOICE?  Islam is an old religion which needs its Christ.  They began with their warrior -- and now they need their Christ to save the religion from its blood oath.  CHRISTIANITY WILL GET ITS WARRIOR.  ISLAM WILL GETS ITS MARTYR.  Tip, Tip.  A BRANCH IN THE WIND BRUSHES AGAINST THE UPSTAIRS WINDOW.  TWICE.  IS THAT RAIN?  And what saves them, the Muslims, as they stand before God's cross; as Michael holds the nuclear thunderbolt in his right hand?  MICHAEL HIMSELF.  What?  THEY MUST COME THROUGH HIM TO FIND SALVATION.  He is the heart of the system.  ISLAM NEEDS A HEART.  AND AMERICA NEEDS MORE WILL, AT THE MOMENT.  AND THEN SHE NEEDS A DEEPER SOUL.  Mister, Be High.  MISTER, BE HIGH.  And Mister, Be Low.  Mister, Be Lower.  FUSE IN ME.  ALL WORLDS IN ME.  ONE WORLD.  HIGH AND LOW MARRIED THROUGH ME.  MATTER AND ANTI-MATTER, MARRIED THROUGH ME.  I think he has some...what am I trying to say...megalomaniacal impulses.  HE HAS NOT ASKED FOR THIS FATE.  HE WISHED TO BE AN ENGLISH TEACHER, A WRITER, AND TO RETIRE QUIETLY WITH HIS WIFE.  His unfaithful wife!  THAT HAS NOT BEEN PROVEN!  What are you saying?  We have heard plenty of testimony...  HE DID NOT ASK FOR THIS DESTINY.  Do we know this for a fact?  HE IS AN INTROVERT, MAN.  LOOK AT HIM.  HE ASKS FOR NOTHING SO MUCH AS PRIVACY.  A CHANCE TO LIVE A QUIET LIFE.  It will be a war for the liberation of women.  A CRUSADE, YOU MEAN?  Michaelangelo de Notradamus gave us a map to help prepare us for this horror.  WHAT HORROR?  I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAYING?  Do you smell that burning flesh?  WHAT?  See the ashes falling on the snow?  I SEE SOMETHING.  That is human flesh, burned in a fiery oven to the south.  I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THAT?  Smell that smell.  A kind of perfume.  A smell of licorice.  ANISE PERHAPS?  Don't get personal!  And don't try to sit any closer to me!  I know you're drunk -- but I don't appreciate any creeping inversion coming in to your loom.  IT IS IN ME THAT THE PROTESTANT IS DROWNED; AND THE CATHOLIC; AND THE BAPTIST; AND THE JEHOVAH'S WITNESS; AND THE JEW; AND THE HINDU; AND THE MUSSELMAN; AND THE BUDDHIST; THE LONELY ATHEIST.  ALL COME IN TO ME; AND DROWN.  ONE SPIRIT.  A NEW BEGINNING OF LIFE.  I AM THE FORGE.  I AM THE ATHENOR.  I AM THE CRUCIBLE FROM WHICH THE NEW LIFE WILL RISE, HATRED PURGED, FEAR BLESSED AND BECOME  HOLY AND WISE.  I AM THE RAINBOW.  I AM BLACK AND WHITE; I AM RED AND GREEN; I AM YELLOW AND BLUE.  I AM THE TOTALITY, THE MOTHER AND THE FATHER.  THROUGH ME ALL THAT LIVES WILL BE GIVEN SIGHT.  AND EDEN WILL FIND RE-GENERATION.  I see.  THAT WAS CROSSMANN.  Where has he been all this time?  BUCKLING UP HIS ARMOR, I BELIEVE.  I heard some kind of crossing of swords, in the background.  I DID NOT HEAR IT.  It was very subtle.  I SUPPOSE IT WAS.  Moses is educating him on the nature of himself, the central pillar of the Sun.  I SEE.  Sun and Moon, both in the body of this one man.  THE SUN IS THE 'M', NUMBER 13; SINGULAR, KETHER, UNITY; THE MOON IS THE 'J' AND THE 'C', NUMBER 13 ALSO, DUALISM, CHOCHMAH, DUALITY.  The One and the First-Born, the Two, from the One, which does not change.  BE HIGH.  BE HIGH.  Thy prophets have been mutilated by the Muslims.  YES.  Divine revelation stopped with the advent of Mohamed!  That is their argument!  ALL THE CHILDREN OF THE EARTH MUST BE EDUCATED AND FED AND HOUSED!  BOYS AND GIRLS EACH MUST BE ALLOWED TO RISE TOWARD THEIR OWN GENIUS, FOR THAT GENIUS IS, ITSELF, THE ANGEL OF THEIR LIVES, THE ONE ON THE INSIDE WHO WILL INTRODUCE THEM TO GOD.  Yes.  He is beginning to speak like me!  EASY, PETER.  THERE IS MORE TO THIS THAN....  Human decency.  GOD APPROACHES YOU IN THE ROBES OF A STRANGER.  TREAT THE STRANGER LIKE HE IS A GOD INCARNATE.  And what if the stranger whom you have allowed into your house turns around and strikes you?  SHALL I TURN THE OTHER CHEEK?  That is the question.  OR SHALL I STRIKE HIM DOWN?  That is the question.  TO LIVE IS NOT A CRIME.  Although to live brings us guilt.  For to live is to kill.  To eat is to kill.  Even to eat vegetation is to kill vegetation.  THE VEGETATARIONS BELIEVE THEY ARE MORAL FOR EATING GRASS.  Morality is one side of the Tree.  But there is something on the other side too.  WHAT IS IT?  POWER?  AMBITION?  The saint gives birth to the sinner.  The saint insists on a sinner.  Insists on someone else playing the role of Evil.  He creates that Evil.  So that he will have an identity.  I HAVE NO IDENTITY.  I CAST NO SHADOW.  FOR I AM ALL THINGS.  I AM THE SUN.  I RESIDE IN EACH HOUSE FOR A TIME.  BUT I LIVE IN NO HOUSE.  I AM, MYSELF, BOTH THE HOUSE AND THE NO-HOUSE, BOTH THE VESSEL AND THE ANTI-VESSEL.  Blood manager.  BLOOD AND DOOBL BLOOD.  Moses is back.  Educating our prince with the blessing of both the Magician and the old Russian Woman.  THESE TWO LOOK LIKE CROSSMANN'S FATHER AND MOTHER.  What?  I don't understand.  LOOK CLOSELY!  IS THAT MAN, THE MAGICIAN, NOT CROSSMANN'S OWN LONG-GONE FATHER; AND IS NOT THE OLD RUSSIAN WOMAN WRAPPED IN BLACK, IS THAT NOT HIS MAD MOTHER, SHE WHO LOST HER MIND ONE DARK AFTERNOON IN SINCLAIR, STRUCK MAD BY THE PRESENCE OF A MUDDLED MOON?  I don't understand you.  IN A DREAM MUCH IS CLEAR THAT IS NOT CLEAR.  Sin is clear?  THE MOON IS CLEAR THROUGH THE WINDOW, LOOKING OUT, BEYOND THE BRANCH WHICH TIPS THE COLD WINDOW PANE.  Pardon?  PADRE?  The Boy-Angel is speaking again.  Listen -- he knows something important.  In the Appendix to the Soncino Zohar, Tipheret is personified to a highest degree, and called the; Holy King, Ruler, and Judge of the world: A second use of the terms Ôright' and 'leftÕ is based on the identification of the grade Tiphereth with the Holy King, the Ruler and Judge of the world. The Holy King as judge can exercise either clemency or rigour; and it is a not unnatural figure to say that He exercises clemency with His right hand and rigour with His left.  The 'New Testament' makes the claim that Yeshua is the King, Ruler and Judge, though He will fulfill these roles at a future time: Matthew 21:5 - Tell ye the daughter of Sion, Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, meek, and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass.  Revelation 19:16 - And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.  Dominion of Dominions.  Matthew 2:6 - And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Judah: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.  Revelation 19:15 - And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.  John 5:22 - For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son.  John 5:30 - I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.  In the Zohar is a discussion of a heavenly Temple that was established at the same time that the earthly Temple was built. This higher Temple is said to be that of Metatron, whom we have discussed as representing the Messiah. This Temple is also associated with the middle pillar of the Tree of Life, which is associated with Tiphereth.  In addition to this, Tiphereth is called the Supernal King as well as the King to whom peace belongs. This is reminiscent of the title 'Prince of Peace' given to the Messiah in Isaiah 9:6.  Rabbi Jose thereupon began to speak on the words: The song of songs, which is Solomon's.  Said he: 'This song King Solomon poured forth when the Temple was erected and all the worlds, above and below, had reached their perfect consummation. And although concerning the exact time of its singing there is some difference of opinion among the members of the Fellowship, we may be certain that it was not sung until that time of absolute completion, when the Moon-the Shekinah-came to her fulness and was revealed in the full perfection of her radiance, and when the Temple had been erected in the likeness of the Temple that is above. The Holy One, blessed be He, then experienced such joy as He had not known since the creation of the world. When Moses set up the Tabernacle in the wilderness, another such was raised in the heavenly spheres, as we learn from the words: 'And it came to pass... that the Tabernacle was reared up', the reference being to the other Tabernacle, to that which was above, namely the Tabernacle of the 'Young Man', Metatron, and nothing greater. But when the first Temple was completed another Temple was erected at the same time, which was the centre for all the worlds, shedding radiance upon all things and giving light to all the spheres. Then the world was firmly established, and all the supernal casements were opened to pour forth light, and all the worlds experienced such joy as had never been known to them before, and celestial and terrestrial beings alike broke forth in song. And the song which they sang is the 'Song of Songs', or, as we might render, 'Song of the Singers', of those musicians who chant to the Holy One, blessed be He.  King David sang 'A song of degrees; King Solomon sang 'the Song of Songs'. Now what is the difference between the two? Do we not interpret both titles to signify one and the same thing? Verily, this is so, for both things are certainly one, but in the days of David all the singers of the spheres were not yet set in their rightful places to chant the praises of their King, because the Temple was not as yet in existence. For, as on earth, the levitic singers are divided into groups, so is it likewise above, and the upper correspond to the lower. But not before the Temple was erected did they assume these their due places, and the lamp [that is, Malkuth.] which before gave no light began then to shed radiance abroad, and then this song was sung to the glory of the Supernal King, [that is, Tiphereth], the 'King to whom peace belongs'.  This song is superior to all the hymns of praise which had ever been sung before. The day on which this hymn was revealed on earth was perfect in all things, and therefore the song is holy of holies.  LOOK AT THAT LIGHT COMING DOWN AGAIN!          Is that some kind of search-light?  COMING FROM WHERE?  I CAN HEAR NOTHING!  NO, IT IS COMING FROM THE HEAVENS!  SHINING DOWN ON US!  Shh, he is still speaking!  THE LIGHT IS SHINING ON HIM!  This next section of the Zohar, beginning AND GOD SPAKE UNTO MOSES, gives credit to Tiphereth (the Holy One), for maintaining the order of the universe: Rabbi Abba began his reflections on this portion with the verse: Trust the Lord for ever (literally, unto ÕAd), for in KAH TETRAGRAMMATON is fashioning of worlds (literally, rock of ages) (Isaiah, XXVI, 4). ÔAII mankindÕ, he said, Ôshould cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He, and put their trust in Him, in order that their strength should be drawn from the sphere called ÕAd'  [that is, Tiphereth], which sustains the universe and binds it into an indissoluble whole.  The 'New Testament' attributes the same function to Jesus or Yeshua: Colossians 1:16,17 - For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him: And he is before all things, and by him all things consist.  Hebrews 1:1-3 - God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high: In the succeeding passage we have discussion within the context of Jacob (a picture of Messiah) talking with his sons about the end times when unity (Tiphereth) will come to the earth. A connection is made between this concept and the heave offering found in the Torah. Here, the heave offering is said to represent the unification of what is below (represented by Malkuth/Kingdom) to what is above (represented by Tiphereth).  This, as we have seen, is a function of Messiah. There is also a lesson given that only some people are able to perform the heave offering while completely focusing on the Heavenly King, Tiphereth, for which they are blessed: ÔNow when Jacob perceived that the Shekinah was withdrawing from him, he questioned his sons, as we have pointed out. And as Jacob and his sons proclaimed the union of the world above and the world below, so also must we. Blessed is he who concentrates his mind and will, with true humility and longing, upon this mystery.  Blessed is he in this world and blessed shall he be in the world to come!Õ  Said Rabbi Hamnuna the Ancient: ÔThis stirring up of the unity has indeed been rightly and justly expounded, and that which we have just now heard is indeed very true; and in the future time these word's which we have now uttered will stand before the Ancient of Days and in no wise be abashed. ÕHe then began to expound this passage as follows: 'They shall take Me a heave offering.'  Here we have displayed an inclusive union of the above with the below, for it does not say 'They shall take a heave offering', but 'They shall take Me a heave offering', which denotes a fusion of the upper with the lower spheres. [that is, Tiphereth with Malkuth].  'On the part of everyone whose heart is willing, ye should take my heave offering.'  The words 'on the part of' seem at first sight to be superfluous, but in reality they contain a deep lesson for the masters of the esoteric lore. Blessed are the righteous who have learnt how to centre all their thoughts and desires on the Heavenly King, and whose aspirations are directed, not towards the vain and foolish toys of this world and its lusts, but to attaching themselves wholeheartedly to the world above in order to draw down the favour of the Lord Himself from heaven to earth.  THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR AN IRISH CATHOLIC SOCIALIST LIKE ME.  Shh, Peter!  The enemy is living in our house.  WHO IS DAVID CHERUBIM, ANYWAY?  Liber Legis. Liber Legis.  DON'T ALLOW THAT SHADOW TO COME BACK OUT HERE, TRUMAN!  THIS IS HOLY GROUND!  HE IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE PRESENT WITH US NOW!  Listen to Moses.  He is not done.  'AD' IS MARS.  'AD' IS THE NUMBER 5.  'Ad' is mist or vapor.  BACK (BG) also is the number 5.  SHH!  MATH COMES A DISTANT SECOND TO DIRECT REVELATION.

 

              1. Kether.         KThR - In the 'Hollow of the Hand ' (Kaph) of the LORD

                                    OF THE FORCES OF LIFE is the UNIVERSAL SUN.

 

            2. Chokmah.      ChKMH - The CHARIOT (or Balanced Control) of the LIFE

                                    FORCES, REDEEMS the EMPEROR.

 

            3. Binah.            BINH -The MAGICAL SECRET of DEATH transforms the

                                    EMPEROR.

 

            4. Chesed.          ChSD - The CHARIOT of TEMPERATE LOVE.

 

            5. Geburah.        GBVRH The HOLY LAW of MAGICK as taught by the

                                    HIEROPHANT of the SUN is applied by the EMPEROR.

 

            6. Tiphereth.       ThPARTh The UNIVERSAL TOWER is Blasted by the

                                    FOLLY of the SUN of the UNIVERSE.

 

            7. Netzach.         NTzCh. Transformation through DEATH awaits the STAR in

                                    the CHARIOT.

 

            8. Hod.              HVD. The EMPEROR through the HIEROPHANT finds

                                    LOVE (The Empress).

 

            9. Yesod.           ISVD. The SECRET of TEMPERANCE shown by the

                                    HIEROPHANT to the EMPRESS.-

 

            10. Malkuth.      MLKVTh. The REDEEMER of the BALANCE of the

                                    FORCES OF LIFE is the HIEROPHANT of the UNIVERSE.

 

What is this about the 'blasted tower'?  SOMEONE IS SPEAKING.  Yes, I am speaking.  What is this about a 'blasted tower'?  I would like to understand this.  YOU WILL, GIVEN TIME.  Shh.  He is speaking again.  WHO?  MOSES, HIMSELF?  In the same Zohar Appendix is an interesting statement that Satan (called Samael) is the enemy of Tiphereth, again called the Holy King, who will be united with Shekinah, further linking Tiphereth to the Messiah:  The distinction between ÔrightÕ and ÔleftÕ in the Zohar corresponds, not only to the distinction between reward and punishment in the next world, but also between good and evil, and specifically moral good and evil in this world.  Samael, the power of evil, the tempter, the accuser, the evil Serpent, is placed on the left and is identified with the grade Geburah.  Now Samael is represented as the opponent not of Chesed but of Tiphereth.  He is the Great Dragon, who on New Year swallows the Moon, that is, prevents the union of the Matrona with the Holy King, until Israel, by their sacrifice on the Day of Atonement, induce him to desist.   What is interesting in the verse is the allusion to left and right representing good and evil in this world and their accompanying reward or punishment in the next world.  This is reminiscent of Yeshua's description of what faces the nations He will one day judge:  Matthew 25:32-33 - And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats: And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.  It may sound odd to hear of Satan 'being placed on the left side' with Geburah, an attribute of God.  However, even the prince of darkness is subject to the will of God and serves His ultimate purpose. (Recall that the Yetzer hara - man's 'evil inclination'  is also said to come from the left side.)  Another key point above, is the reference to Satan 'swallowing the Moon' on New Year (Rosh Hashana) and being defeated by Israel's Yom Kippur sacrifice. The seven day period between these two feasts mirrors the seven years tribulation period preceding the final defeat of Satan.  The 'New Testament' states that it is Yeshua's salvation sacrifice that defeats Satan:  Revelation 12:10 - 'And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, 'Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Messiah' -- for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night.'  Note the linguistic similarity between the Zohar Appendix (above) and Revelation:  Revelation 12:1-11 - And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars: And she being with child cried, travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered. And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads. And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth: and the dragon stood before the woman which was ready to be delivered, for to devour her child as soon as it was born. And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up unto God, and to his throne. And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand two hundred and threescore days. And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven.  And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him. And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Messiah: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.  Both the Zohar and book of Revelation use terms such as sun, moon and stars to represent heavenly beings. Paul, in speaking of the resurrection and end times, also alludes to the glory of heavenly beings, using the same terms. The context of the passage is concerned with physical bodies that will pass away, as opposed to spiritual and eternal ones. The latter are represented by the sun, moon and stars.  The understanding here would be that of Tiphereth/Messiah (sun), Malkut/Shekinah (moon) and the angels of God (stars): 1 Corinthians 15:35-57 - But some man will say, How are the dead raised up? and with what body do they come?  Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die: And that which thou sowest,  thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other grain: But God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, and to every seed his own body. All flesh is not the same flesh: but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds. There are also celestial bodies, and bodies terrestrial: but the glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is another. There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars: for one star differeth from another star in glory. So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption: It is sown in dishonour; it is raised in glory: it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power: It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body. And so it is written,  The first man Adam was made a living soul; the last Adam was made a quickening spirit.  Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural; and afterward that which is spiritual. The first man is of the earth, earthy; the second man is the Lord from heaven. As is the earthy, such are they also that are earthy: and as is the heavenly, such are they also that are heavenly. And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.  Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth corruption inherit incorruption. Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be  raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Yeshua ha Mashiach.  The Zohar section speaks of Israel, by their sacrifice on the Day of Atonement, inducing Satan to desist. The book of Hebrews says that Yeshua is Israel's final Yom Kippur sacrifice for salvation.  Hebrews 9:7- 28 - But into the second went the high priest alone once every year, [Yom Kippur sacrifice] not without blood, which he offered for himself, and for the errors of the people: The Holy Ghost this signifying, that the way into the holiest of all was not yet made manifest, while as the first tabernacle was yet standing: Which was a figure for the time then present, in which were offered both gifts and sacrifices, that could not make him that did the service perfect, as pertaining to the conscience; Which stood only in meats and drinks, and divers washings, and carnal ordinances, imposed on them until the time of reformation. [the Millennial Sabbath] But Messiah being come an high priest of good things to come, [Jubilee Release] by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, [Tiphereth, the heavenly tabernacle of all the Supreme grades - Zohar Shemoth] not made with hands, that is to say, not of this building.  Neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us. For if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of an heifer sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh: How much more shall the blood of Messiah, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works [works of Torah- Ephesians 2:10-13, Romans 3:31] to serve the living God? And for this cause he is the mediator of the new testament, [the New Covenant made with Israel, Jeremiah chapter 31] that by means of death, for the redemption of the transgressions that were under the first testament, they which are called might receive the promise of eternal inheritance. For where a testament is, there must also of necessity be the death of the testator.  For a testament is of force after men are dead: otherwise it is of no strength at all while the testator liveth. [Through faith we are considered heirs, but inheritance only comes upon death.]  Whereupon neither the first testament was dedicated without blood.  For when Moses had spoken every precept to all the people according to the law, he took the blood of calves and of goats, with water, and scarlet wool, and hyssop, and sprinkled both the book, and all the people, saying, This is the blood of the testament which God hath enjoined unto you.  Moreover he sprinkled with blood both the tabernacle, and all the vessels of the ministry.  And almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission.  It was therefore necessary that the patterns of things in the heavens should be purified with these; but the heavenly things themselves with better sacrifices than these. For Messiah is not entered into the holy places made with hands, which are the figures of the true; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us:  Nor yet that he should offer himself often, as the high priest entereth into the holy place every year with blood of others; for then must he often have suffered since the foundation of the world: but now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment:  So Messiah was once offered to bear the sins of many; [the context is still solely the Yom Kippur sacrifice for salvation] and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation. [at 'Yom Kippur' - the end of the seven year tribulation].  I HAVE HEARD THIS STORY BEFORE: He is the Great Dragon, who on New Year swallows the Moon, that is, prevents the union of the Matrona with the Holy King.  I READ THIS IN CROSSMANN'S BOOK, CONVERSATIONS ON A DYING AGE.  GILBERT WAS THE MONSTER, THE BEARDED GIANT, WHO SOUGHT TO KILL OUT WHITENESS.  Ahab, was he not?  YES.  I HAD NOT THOUGHT OF IT.  BUT AHAB, TOO, WISHED TO KILL OUT THE WHITNESS.  And Crossmann assured us that this was the great Armageddon, this battle with Gilbert, the Monster, the Dragon, who surrounded Daphna, the Matrona from Israel, who was giving birth to the new world.  GILBERT WAS RUSSIAN COMMUNISM.  And he assured us that the great battle to end the world had been fought and won.  YES.  Is it not true?  YES.  And is he saying now that the great war has not really been fought.  That the great war is coming.  And that Islam is the enemy; Islam is the Great Dragon.  The great Accuser.  HEAR HIM RANTING INSIDE.  I CAN HERE HIM INVOKING SOME DEMON OF CONFLICT, WISHING FOR SOME RIGHTEOUSNESS COMING DOWN.  Listen -- can you hear him in there?  KILL AMERICANS AND JEWS WHEREVER IN THE WORLD YOU FIND THEM!  Yes, by God!  I heard it!  WHAT HAS GOTTEN IN TO HIM?  He hates Israel!  HE HATES THE FACT THAT WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY GOD.  THAT WE ARE IN HEAVEN.  THAT GOD HAS GIVEN US WATER.  BUT IT IS BECAUSE WE VALUE WATER -- THAT IS WHY WE HAVE WATER.  GOD HAS BLESSED THIS NATION BECAUSE WE VALUE BOTH MAN AND WOMAN.  DEMOCRATIC VALUES LEAD THE INDIVIDUALS OF THAT SOCIETY TOWARD SUCCESS.  HE HAS PUT HIMSELF IN AN IMPOSSIBLE BIND, IN WHICH MEN RULE WOMEN AND NOTHING IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE.  The North is Heaven and the South is Hell; and the Devil is raising an army in Hell to make an assault on Heaven.  IS THAT NOT OBVIOUS, FRIEND?  I would not follow him to the cross; but I will follow him to the flag.  YES. And, so, what was the old armageddon?  The one with Michael and Gilbert?  IT WAS BUT A TRIAL RUN FOR THE REAL THING.  It was the inner prototype from which the outer experience has taken root.  TARROW ROOT?  What?  TEAR ROW, DOWN NEAR WALL STREET?  What?  A TRIAL RUN FOR THE REAL THING.

 

Kether - The Fool

Chochmah - The Magus

Binah - The Priestess

Chesed - The Fortune

Geburah - The Tower

Tiphereth - The Sun

Netzach - The Empress

Hod - The Aeon (Judgment)

Yesod - The Hanged Man

Malkuth - The Universe (the World)

 

The Tower, the Son, and the Hanged Man.  DON'T FORGET THE FOOL.  Yes.  TIPHERETH IS THE SON.  Yes.  TIPHERETH IS THE HIGH PRIEST.  Yes.  TIPHERETH IS THE IMAMGE OF AIN SOPH.  TIPERETH ATTAINS NESCHAMAH.  TIPHETH IS THE MESSIAH AND THE MEDIUM OF FAITH.  TIPHERETH IS THE HARMONY OF THE SEPHIROTH.  TIPHERETH IS THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS.  TIPHERETH IS THE MASTER OF JACOB'S LADDER.  TIPHERETH IS THE KING, RULER AND JUDGE.  TIPHERETH IS THE ENEMY OF SATAN AND THE ATONEMENT OF ISRAEL.  TIPHERETH IS THE SON.  TIPHERETH IS THE LIVING WATERS AND THE FATHER.  TIPHERETH IS THE BRIDEGROOM OF UNITY.  TIPHERETH IS THE HIGH PRIEST.  He fears for the life of his nation again; and so he prays to his God, the One God, seeking a blessing.  AN OMAHA STAKE IN THE HEART?  Something less; and something more.  TIP TIP TIP.  Ur airy.  URR AND HARAN.  From Air and Heron came Abraham and many others into Palest Time.  SNOW AGAIN.  I SEE.  Snow and Chronzon.  DISPERSAL.  DRESS REHEARSAL.  Tiamat -- the Primordial Waters of Chaos.  THE DEMON OF THE ABYSS.  Hiss.  Hiss.  CREAM ON THE MISS.  A DREAM ON THE TERRIBLE SWEET KISS.  Falling off.  FREE ALOT.  Plastic nature, bending in on the copper blood, the heart pumping 111 times a minute.  HEAT EVOKING GOD'S MOMENTUM.  Why are Muslims murdering black Christian schoolgirls in Nigeria?  WHAT?  Why are hundreds of Christian Nigerians dead at the hands of Muslims?  If this is not a religious war?  THIS IS NOT A RELIGIOUS WAR!  It is as far as the Muslims are concerned.  Perhaps you should wake up.  I AM SLEEPING.  I AM SLEEPING.  Cain knows what he is doing.  ABEL LISTENS ONLY TO HIS OWN HEARTBEAT.  Something will wake us up.  PERHAPS IT WILL BE THOR'S OWN EXCELSIUS.  What time is it?  I LEFT MY WATCH AT HOME ON THE NIGHT-TABLE, BESIDE THE CLOCK-RADIO.  Tip.  Tip.  INVOKING MOSES, AGAIN, TO SPEAK OF TIPHERETH.  Tiph. Pith.  YES.  The next section of the Zohar, relates a conversation between two rabbis, discussing Proverbs 30:4, particularly the end of the verse, which asks 'and what is his son's name, if thou canst tell?' The answer they arrive at for the name of the 'Son of God' should not be surprising: 'Rabbi Jose applied the verse, 'Who hath ascended', first to Moses, then to the Holy One, and finally to the four elements, and I saw that thou, Master, didst bless him!Õ Said Rabbi Simeon: ÔWhat he said was perfectly true. All the applications signify one and the same thing, since they all have their root and fulfilment in the Holy One, and they are all practically equivalent.Õ Rabbi Jesse was deeply impressed by these words and said: ÔNow I see that this is indeed so. And I have also heard it on another occasion from the mouth of the Master. But what is the meaning of the words, 'And what is his son's name?' Ô Rabbi Simeon replied: ÔThe inner meaning of this I myself have taught my son, Rabbi Eleazar.Õ ÔI pray thee, tell it to me, for I did ask thee concerning it in a dream, but when I awoke I had forgotten thine answer.Õ ÔAnd now, when I tell thee, wilt thou remember it?Õ ÔI surely will,Õ replied Rabbi Jesse, ÔI always remember what my Master tells me.Õ Said Rabbi Simeon: ÔThe words must be understood in the light of the expression, 'My first-born son Israel' (Exekiel, IV, 22), and 'Israel, in whom I am glorified' (Isaiah, XLIX, 3). 'Israel' here refers to the supernal world, and it is this which is called 'son'. Whereupon Rabbi Jesse replied: ÔWith all due respect to the Master, this is a secret which I already know.Õ But yet again he forgot it.  He was much perturbed. But when he went into his house and lay down to sleep, he saw in his dream an haggadic book, wherein it was written: 'Wisdom (Chokmah) and glory (Tiphereth) in His sanctuary.'  When he awoke, he straightway went to Rabbi Simeon, kissed his hand, and said: ÔThis night I saw in my dream an haggadic book wherein were written the words: 'Wisdom and glory in His sanctuary', 'Wisdom' above, 'Glory' below, and 'in His sanctuary' at the side. This I saw in a dream, and I found it on my lips when I awoke.Õ Said R. Simeon to him: ÔUntil this time thou wast too young to join the company of the 'reapers of the field', but now everything has been shown unto thee! Thus the meaning is: Wisdom (Chokmah) is His Name and Glory (Tiphereth) the name of His son.Õ  THIS IS BECOMING TOO ESOTERIC TO ME.  Yes.  I understood the nature of the alphabet.  But this is becoming a bit too much.  THE 'REAPERS OF THE FIELD'?  Another section of the Zohar refers to the 'firstborn son Israel,' (also known as 'supernal Israel.') and links this to Tiphereth.  (Keep in mind that Israel is also God's Messiah.) There is a reference to the 'Jubilee,' which as we have seen is directly associated with Messiah and the Millennium:  ÔWe have been taught in the name of R. Simeon that in the hour when the Torah was given to Israel, Mother and children were together in perfect harmony, as it is written, 'the mother of the children rejoiced' (Psalms, XCIII, 9).Õ Thus 'I' in this verse refers to the Shekinah, called 'daughter' in the dictum: 'Abraham had a daughter, the Shekinah'. 'The Lord thy God' has the same reference as in the verse, 'My firstborn son Israel' (Exodus, IV, 22)  (i.e. Tifepheth); while the words 'who hath brought thee out of the land of Egypt' refer to the mystery of 'Jubilee.'   Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, refers to Yeshua/Jesus as bringing to us both wisdom and understanding (the higher Sephiroth).  This is done through faith and is referred to as the mystery of his will. This is further associated with the end times where He will bring all things into harmony: Ephesians 1:8-9 - Wherein he hath abounded toward us in all wisdom and prudence [understanding]; having made known unto us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure which he hath purposed in himself: That in the dispensation of the fulness of times he might gather together in one all things in Messiah, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth; even in him.  The language in the next section of the Zohar, parallels Paul's statement in Ephesians (above).  Here we have Tiphereth called 'the firstborn son' of the Father (Chokhmah/Wisdom) and Mother (Binah/Understanding). This is of course at the 'Sod' level, (i.e., metaphorical), but so is the idea of 'Father' in the Bible (otherwise you have to have a literal mother and impregnation to have a 'son').  It is the Son (Tiphereth) Who brings us (our Neshamah), into a relationship with Wisdom (Chokhmah) and Understanding (Binah). This is all tied to spiritual knowledge (da'ath), called the mystery of the heavens, which is the realm of the Ruach haKodesh (God's Holy Spirit).  All of this is considered (in the same language as Paul) to be part of what is called the mystery of the Faith: The word OMeR (speech) indicates the letters and paths which proceed from the Father [Chokmah.] the Mother [Binah.] and the head which issues from them, who is the firstborn Son. [Tiphereth].  'Aleph' symbolizes the Father, and when it ascends and descends, the Mem unites itself with it, producing 'em', which signifies Mother; the resh is the Head (rosh =head), signifying Son. When these three unite the result is that they form 'Word', 'Speech'. Thus the Father, the Mother, and the first born Son radiate one within the other in one union, which has its reign and duration upon the Sabbath. Thus all are united so as to become one, and therefore they hasten one to another that Omer, as a supernal reign, in order that all should be one. But when all has been conveyed down to that 'firmament', then it diffuses light upon the 'Glory of God' below that it may produce beings in the likeness of the heavens which give light to that Glory. 'And night unto night declareth knowledge.' These are those 'chariots' which form the body of the Throne; they are called 'nights', as it is written: 'My reins also instruct me in the nights' (Ps. XVI, 7). The upper chariot is called 'Days' or 'day unto dayÕ,, the lower 'Nights', or 'night unto night'. Ye-hawe (declares) may also mean 'makes alive', to wit, produces the progeny of the heavens, 'brings unto life' generations. 'Knowledge' designates the mystery of the heavens: as the heavens have six sides, so also the generations which they bring into life in their likeness. Thus 'day unto day' is included in a supernal sphere called 'Word' (omer), and 'night unto night' in the mystery of the Male, who gives light to her and whose name is 'Knowledge'. And because this 'Word' is not like other words, but is a supernal mystery, Scripture comes back to it and says: 'There is no word (omer) nor speeches, their voices are not heard' (v. 3). This 'word' is a supreme mystery of supernal grades, where there are no voices nor speech, and which cannot be understood like the other grades which constitute the mystery of the Faith, and which are voices that can be heard. And yet 'Their line is gone out through all the earth' (v. 4), although they are supernal mysteries which can never be perfectly comprehended, yet the current of their flow is downward.  Because of this current, we have a true Faith in this world, and all mankind can discourse of the mystery of the Faith of the Holy One in connection with these grades, as if they were revealed to and not hidden from them.  Therefore it says: 'And their words to the end of the world' (Ibid.), which means that from the beginning to the end of the world the 'wise of heart' discourse of those hidden grades although they cannot be comprehended. And how far are they comprehended?  'In them hath he set a tent for the sun', because the holy sun [Tiphereth] is as a tabernacle of all those supreme grades, and is as a light which has taken into itself all the hidden lights and the whole current of their extension, whereby Faith is manifested in the whole world. To grasp the Sun is equivalent to grasping all grades, because the sun is a 'tent' including all and absorbing all; and he in turn lights up all the shining colours below. Hence 'He is a bridegroom coming forth from his canopy (covering)', in the gleam and flash of those hidden lights which in strong yearning and desire give him tokens of their love, as to a bridegroom to whom all his friends give presents and gifts. And what is 'his covering'?  Eden, the 'covering' which covers up all things. 'He rejoiceth' from the side of the primeval light in which judgement has no place at all. 'As a strong man' (gibbor)-from the side of 'strength' (Geburah); and note that it does not say here 'a strong man', but 'as a strong man', which means that Judgement is tempered by Mercy. Thus the sun gathers all together in one, in perfect devotion and love. 'To run on the way', in order to nourish and complement the Moon on every side and make it possible for her to shed her light downwards. 'His going forth is from the end of the heaven'.  He goes forth from the end of that supernal heaven, from the termination [Yesod] of the Body, as it is written, 'From one end of heaven to the other end of the heaven' (Deuteronomy, IV, 32); where the 'one end' designates the upper world, and the 'other end' its termination. 'And his circuit unto the ends of it': he (the sun) runs through all those holy regions that are capable of being vivified and nourished by his rays. 'And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof': nothing is hidden from that radiance, for it is directed towards all together, to each according to its capacity of reception. When all are thus completed and vivified by the Sun, then the Moon is crowned in the likeness of the supernal perfect Mother in fifty gates.  Note also the reference to the bridegroom being 'strength' (geburah) above and in the book of Revelation: Revelation 12:10 - And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Messiah.  WHAT IS HE GETTING AT?  I'm not sure.  WELL, HE IS SHOWING DIRECTLY THE CONNECTION THAT CROSSMAN HAS ASSERTED, BETWEEN MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL (TIPHERETH) AND JESUS OR YESHUAH.  Also, between Michael the Archangel and Metatron, which we saw in Crossmann's novel.  HE IS GIGGLING IN THERE!  HE IS LAUGHING LIKE A MAD MAN!  Truman!  I CAN'T CONTROL HIM!  THE LAST TIME I WENT IN THERE, HE THREATENED TO STRIKE ME!  Kill any Jew that falls into your power!  THE MAN IS MAD.  PERHAPS WE MUST BIND HIM UNTIL THE POLICE ARRIVE.  Is he armed?  HE IS ARMED WITH BAD IDEAS.  Yes.  HE IS ARMED WITH A RELIGION OF DEATH.  Yes.  I WOULD NOT FOLLOW CROSSMANN TO THE CROSS.  BUT.  BUT.  But you would pick up a gun for him?  WHAT?  Is that what you are saying -- that you would carry the cross for him -- or put someone else on the cross for him?  Would you put our friend, Framarz, on the cross for him?  WOULD FARAMARZ PUT HIM ON THE CROSS?  WOULD OLE SIRHAN NAHRIS SHOOT CROSSMANN IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD LIKE HE DID BEFORE WHEN TADDY WAS JUST A BOY?   Stop this infamy!  Stop it!  This man is praying!  Don't you understand this!  SHH!  SHE'S BACK AGAIN!  Look at those eyes!  THIS IS CROSSMANN'S MOTHER?  WHO SAID THAT?  I don't remember.  I am cold!  I think we should go inside.  WE SEEM TO BE STUCK ON TEA.   Tea and cookies.  MOSES HAS THE FLOOR -- HE'S GUARDING THE SAMOVAR.  He seems to have the master's ear.  WHY IS CROSSMANN SO RAPT IN HIS ATTENTION TO THIS BOY-ANGEL?  Because Moses reads Crossmann's biography.  YES, BILL!  THAT IS IT!  WONDERFUL!  YES!  BIOGRAPHY!  The rich man goes to live in a cave.  WHAT?  The rich man goes to live in a cave.  SHH!  MOSES IS SPEAKING AGAIN.  There is more about this Tower, in Geburrah.  What are we to make of this tower?  It has come up more than once?  SHH!  HE SPEAKS!  Tiff, tiff!  FOR WRATH!  Hollow cost!  Hollow cost!  SAYS THE BOSS!  SAYS THE TEMPERATE BOSS!  Tiff for Taph and Taph for Tiff.  TAPHEE, TAPHEE, MAKE ME LAUGHIE; TIFFIE, TIFFIE, MAKE ME THRIFTY.  Silence!  SILENCE IS FOR GOLD, THEY SAY!  CONSTANCE FOR SILVER!  Shh!  Hairy eye balls again coming down to bite you!  NOW!   As I have said, the Sephirah of Tiphereth in Jewish literature can be connected to the Messiah, the Tenakh, and the 'New Testament.'  The next section of the Zohar comments on the fifth commandment to honor father and mother. Much has been written on why this commandment is within the 'first five,' which are said to be commandments between God and man (as opposed to the 'second five', considered to be between man and neighbor).  The Zohar extends the idea of 'father and mother' beyond our physical parents, to honoring God, that is both the 'masculine' and 'femine' aspects of God (Chochmah and Binah).  Tiphereth is referred to in the context of the living waters of Eden that decend from the realm of Ain Soph.  As previously mentioned, in the 'New Testament,' Yeshua called Himself the source of living waters. Interestingly, we also see Tipheret called 'the Father' in this section: HONOUR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER. Rabbi Hiya connected this command with the words: 'And a river went out of Eden to water the garden' (Genesis, II, 10).  ÔThe 'river' he said, is the issue of the fountain which flows perennially and whence the whole Garden of Eden is watered, and this issue [Tiphereth] of the holy fountain is called Ab- 'Father'.  (Note: The subject of 'living waters' is also closely associated with the Sephirah of Yesod, which we will discuss later.)  The prophet Isaiah refers to a significant child being called 'father': Isaiah 9:6 - For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.  John makes the following series of mystical references to Yeshua being one with the Father: John 1:14 - And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.  John 10:30 - I and my Father are one.  John 14:7-11 - If ye had known me, ye should have known my Father also: and from henceforth ye know him, and have seen him. Philip saith unto him, Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us. Yeshua saith unto him, Have I been so long a time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?  Hee that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest thou then, shew us the Father? Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me?   The words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself: but the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works. Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me: or else believe me for the very works' sake.  John 15:23-24 - He that hateth me hateth my Father also. If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin: but now have they both seen and hated both me and my Father.  John 17:21-23 - That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me. The next Zohar section speaks of the flow of blessings (the waters of Eden) from Chokhmah (Wisdom) down through Yesod (Foundation), then to Malkut (Kingdom). This text refers to Tiphereth (which is in the middle), as being 'the Lord'.  Note also the role of Yesod, which will also be discussed later:  Zohar: ÔThe congregation respond: 'Blessed is the Lord who is blessed for ever and ever.'  The expression 'who is blessed' indicates the streaming of blessings from the source of life to the place whence issue nourishment and bounty for all creatures. And why do we call this source 'blessed'?  Because it sustains and waters Õolam va'ed' (literally, for ever and ever), which is the Sabbath eve. In this way blessings are transmitted to this Õolam va'ed' from the highest world, so that it attains its full perfection. Thus in this benediction, 'blessed' represents the ultimate source whence all blessings emanate ; [Note: Hohmah.] 'the Lord' is the centre [Tiphereth.] of all the supernal sides; 'who is blessed' represents the peace of the house, the fountain of the cistern [Yesod], providing completion and nourishment for all, while 'for ever and ever' refers to the world below [Malkuth], which needs these blessings: the 'good oil' of 'blessed', 'the Lord', and 'the Blessed One' is all for this Õolam va'ed'.  Therefore the whole congregation has to recite this every day; but on Sabbath eve it must be recited with special devotion and gladness, in order that the Sabbath may be fitly blessed by the holy people. When they begin to recite this benediction a voice is heard in all the heavens that are sanctified by the entrance of the Sabbath: 'Blessed are ye, holy people, for that ye bless and sanctify on earth below, that thereby many supernal holy hosts may be blessed and sanctified above.'  Blessed are they in this world and blessed are they in the world to come. The Israelites do not recite this benediction until they are crowned with the crowns of holy souls, as we have said before. Blessed is the people who is worthy of them in this world, so that it may merit them in the world to come.  The end of this portion speaks of the faithful as receiving 'crowns', for their faithfulness, which is of course similar to the teachings of the 'New Testament': 2 Timothy 4:8 - Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.  James1:12 - Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.  1 Peter 5:4 - And when the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.  Revelation 3:11 - Behold, I come quickly: hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.  The language in the Zohar portion concerns: a) Tiphereth (Messiah); b) the 'House'; c) Yesod (Foundation) and d) God's people sanctifying themselves so as to act as vessels that can receive God's living waters. This closely resembles a portion in one of Paul's letters to Timothy: 2 Timothy 2:19-21 - Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his. And, let every one that nameth the name of Messiah depart from iniquity. But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and of silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and some to dishonour. If a man therefore purge himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honour, sanctified, and meet for the master's use, and prepared unto every good work.  AMEN.  Amen.

 

                                   

 

ONE FOR SORROW; TWO FOR JOY; THREE FOR GIRLS AND FOUR FOR BOYS; FIVE FOR SILVER; SIX FOR GOLD; SEVEN FOR THE SECRET NEVER TO BE TOLD.  THERE'S A BIRD THAT NESTS INSIDE YOU, LYING UNDERNEATH YOUR SKIN.  WHEN YOU OPEN UP YOUR WINGS TO SPEAK I HOPE YOU'LL LET ME IN.  WHO IS THAT SINGING?  A murderous one?  NINE.  Is it our friend, the troubled door?  YET!  Look at that crow up there!  Solitary s'crow!  ADAM KADMON!  Adam Cod Man!  BARBARY COAST.  BARBAROUS UNCTION.  Who are the barbarians now?  T-T-T-TALABAN.  I-I-I-Isla-bomb-bomb-bomb.  Islam-mob.  Islam-mosque.  Islam-mock.  Isla-dom.  Anthrax Islam Bomb.  WHAT?  What?  ISLAM IS A.  Islam is a great religion!  What are you saying?  EVERYONE UNDERSTANDS THAT THIS IS A RELIGIOUS WAR BUT THE UNITED STATES.  We cannot admit that this is a religious war.  For, if we do, then we have armageddon.  And we have the brutal destruction of Islamites in the West.  MUCH LIKE THEY ARE DOING IN MALAYSIA AND NIGERIA, KILLING CHRISTIANS WHEREVER THEY FIND THEM.  Who are the Nazis today?  IN THE END OF THE WORLD, WE WILL ALL BECOME NAZIS.  I see.  And where does he fit in to this -- Crossmann?  Is he really this Michael who appears at the most dangerous moment and saves the free world from the southern hemisphere demons with rags on their heads?  TITUS ANDRONICUS.  Titan that he is.  TIPHERETH IS THE BRIDEGROOM OF UNITY.  What does that mean?  LISTEN TO OUR FRIEND MOSES, WHO HAS BEEN RAISED IN TO HEAVEN AND WHO HAS BEEN TAKEN IN TO HELL.  Like Crossmann, himself.  YES.  CROSSMANN IS ALSO MOSES.  HE MOUNTED THE STEPS UP THE MOUNTAIN AND BROUGHT BACK THE LAWS OF THE NEXT WORLD.  He found laws that others also had found.  BAHU'ALLAH CAME BEFORE HIM.  And this provides the Arabs with a hook into the next world.  A HOOK OR AN ANCHOR.  A SALVATION, A THIN PATH, OR A DEADLY BOMB.  Tiphereth is the unity of the opposing sides -- remember that.  Between right and left; between high and low.  Tiphereth is the Sun, visiting one house and then another.  DRAWING EVERYONE INTO THE HEART.  In the end, does he take a side?  Does he take the side on the North, the Christian -- does he unify the world against Islam?  PATER NOSTER NOSTRA DAMUS.  A hero transcribing our survival.  ANOTHER MICHELANGELO.  Shh!  It's time for Moses again.  LISTEN!  The Biblical book Song of Solomon ('Song of Songs') is considered to be one of the most mystical texts of the Bible. The term 'Song of Songs' is equated with 'Holy of Holies.' It is evident from its text that Song of Songs is not meant to be taken at the literal level. Its deeper meaning is found at a Kaballistic level, where which understands it as being a dialogue between the Messiah and the Shekinah, who are presently separated, but will become united at the end of this age, when the Name of God is made One again.  The following text concerns the Shema (Deuteronomy 6:4), and two other verses that also start with the words, 'Hear O Israel.' The teaching shows that the Shema is directly tied to the idea of the unification of God's name, which comes when Tiphereth (the husband) and Malkuth (the bride) come together in the Millennium: Zohar, Rabbi Hiya and Rabbi Jose were walking together. Said Rabbi Jose: ÔLet us now think on spiritual matters and talk on the words of the Torah.Õ He thereupon began by pointing out that three passages are introduced by the words, Hear, O Israel. 'Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One' (Deuteronomy, VI, 4); 'Hear, O Israel, this day thou hast become a people to the Lord thy God' (Deuteronomy, XXVII, 9); and 'Hear, O Israel, thou art to pass the Jordan this day' (Deuteronomy. LX, I). ÔWhyÕ, he said, Ôdid Moses commence in each of these cases with the word 'hear'? In the first, indeed, the word seems appropriate, but what is its point in the other two cases? The truth is that in all three passages it is meant to teach a special lesson. This is obvious in the case of the first, where the word 'hear' indicates the unity in the supernal Wisdom of what is above and what is below. The word ShemaÕ consists of shem (name) and Ôain (seventy), indicating the combination of this Name and the other seventy from whence it derives blessing. At the recitation of the ShemaÕ, therefore, one must concentrate attention on this union of all the Divine names. For these seventy Names constitute the mystery of the supernal Chariot from whence that Name receives blessing and in which it is contained. Then comes the word Israel, referring, as we have learnt, to 'Ancient Israel' (Tiphereth), so that this emanation may also be included. So 'Hear, O Israel,' signifies the union of the Spouse with her Husband (that is, Malkuth with Tiphereth), so that all is in all, and all is one.  The union of Tiphereth to the Shekinah (at the end of this age) is said to be the union of the 'Supernal Sabbath,' to the earthly Sabbath, a time known as Yom Shekulo Shabbat - 'a time that is all Sabbath' - the Kingdom of God on earth. The following text associates Tiphereth (which is 'male') with the heavenly Sabbath and the Shekinah (which is 'female') to the earthly Sabbath:  In fact, whenever 'Sabbath' is mentioned it refers to the 'eve of the Sabbath' (that is, the Shekinah), but when it says 'the Sabbath day', it denotes the Supernal Sabbath (i.e. Tiphereth).  The former is symbolized by the Female, the latter by the Male.  Thus 'And the children of Israel should keep the Sabbath' (Ex. XXXI, I6) alludes to the Female, which is the night (layla), and 'remember the Sabbath day' (Ibtd. xx, 8) alludes to the Male. Thus the sabbath here below sings a hymn to the Sabbath above.  This next reference contains an interesting teaching that says in the days of Solomon, the sun (Tiphereth) was hidden and the moon (the Shekinah) was present. In the days of Moses however, the moon was 'gathered in', while the sun 'held sway'.  As mentioned earlier, Moses is the only prophet ever to have vision 'at the level of Tiphereth.' That being the case, and Tiphereth being linked to the 'voice of God,' and knowing that Moses 'spoke directly with God,' and that according to Paul, the 'well' (rock) in the wilderness was Yeshua, we can see a close association between Moses and Yeshua, the latter of whom, being Messiah, is associated with Tiphereth: (Zohar) When Miriam departed, the well which accompanied Israel in the wilderness also departed. Therefore THERE WAS NO WATER FOR THE CONGREGATION, because the well had departed both above and below. Then the right hand was broken, as it says, 'Let Aaron be gathered to his people', and finally the sun was darkened, when God said to Moses, 'And die in the mountain'. There never was a generation like that in which Moses was present along with Aaron and Miriam. And think not that there was the like in the days of Solomon, for in the days of Solomon the Moon held sway but the Sun was gathered in, whereas in the days of Moses the Moon was gathered in but the Sun held sway. It is written: 'And the sun ariseth and the sun goeth down' (Ecclesiastes, 1, 5). This signifies, as we have explained, that when the Israelites came forth from Egypt the Sun [Tiphereth] shone for them and not the Moon, but it went down in the wilderness. To where, then, was it gathered in?  'Unto its place', in order to give light to the Moon. So it was with Moses, and that is the point of the verse, 'What profit is there to a man from all his labour' (Ecclesiastes 3). The 'man' here is Joshua, who laboured to give Israel possession of the land and yet did not succeed in bringing the Moon to fullness, because he laboured for Israel 'under the sun', that is, on a lower plane than the sun of Moses, and he did not really take his place. That being so, what was his glory, seeing that he did not reach perfection on either side (either of the sun or of the moon)?  Rabbi Simeon said: ÔWhat is 'under the sun'?  This is the moon; and whoever attaches himself to the moon without the sun, his labour is 'under the sun' assuredly; and this was the original sin of the world; and hence it says, 'What profit is there to man in all his labour, to wit, to the first Adam and all who have followed him.Õ  What is interesting in the above text is the implication that the sun (Tiphereth) departs for the moon (Shekinah) to manifest. This is reminiscent of Yeshua's words when He was approaching the time of His departure:  John 16:7 - Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you.  As mentioned earlier, the merciful (right) side of God can 'carry the day,' when moved by true repentance -- even when His 'mind is made up.'  The following text shows an example for us, in this life. Although we are to be conformed to the entire image of God (left and right sides), we too are to bring the thoughts and actions of the (judgmental) left side 'into' the (merciful) right side, allowing the latter to 'have the final say.'  In this way we fully emulate God and are acceptable to Him.  This section also teaches, that one cannot wait to do this after leaving this world. (that is, And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment. - Hebrews 9:27.)  (Zohar) Rabbi Simeon, he quoted to him the verse: 'See life with the wife whom thou lovest all the days of the life of thy vanity' (Eccl. IX, 9). ÔThisÕ, he said, Ôis a hint to a man that he should unite Life with this place, [that is, Tifereth with Malkuth.] the measure of day with the measure of night. All Solomon's wordsÕ, he went on, Ôare written in wisdom, yet it would seem that here he is giving the rein to worldliness, and equally in the words that follow: 'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do with thy might, for there is no work nor device', etc. How could the wise Solomon speak thus?  But, indeed, all the words of Solomon have a deep inner significance. What is indicated here is that a man should always merge the left in the right, and all his actions should be controlled by the right. Thus we interpret, 'all that thy hand findeth to do' of the left, and 'that do with thy might' of the right. When a man is careful that all his acts should be towards the right side, and that he should include the left in the right, then God dwells within him in this world and brings him into the next world. A man should not say, When I reach that world I will seek mercy of the King and repent before him, for 'there is no work or device or knowledge or wisdom' after a man departs from this world, but if a man desires that the Holy King should illumine him for that world and give him a share in the world to come, he should strive in this world to place his actions in the sphere of the right.  The example given above, is that man is to understand and follow Tipheret. As was already mentioned; 'To grasp the Sun  (Tiphereth) is equivalent to grasping all grades,' (Zohar).  Paul taught the same about Yeshua.  To 'grasp Him' (by faith) enables us to be like Him ('the image of the invisible God' - Colossians 1:15), in Whom is the fulness of God (all the grades/Sephiroth), 'For in him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily'  (Colossians 2:9).  Ephesians 3:17-19 - That Messiah may dwell in your hearts by faith; [to 'grasp Him'] that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height [the dimensions of physical space as represented by Tiphereth].  And to know the love of Messiah, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God ['all of the grades']. 

 

                                   

 

 

ANTHRAX!  ABRAXUS!  ZISUTHRUS ANTHRAX TAX!  What are you saying?  SMALL POX!  If he doesn't go back inside, I am going to shut his mouth with a right cross!  CRUSADER!  CRIMINAL AMERICAN CHRISTIAN JEW-LOVING CRUSADER!  Faramaz, go inside!  FALSE MAN, JEW!  KILL ALL JEWS AND AMERICANS WHEREVER YOU FIND THEM!  The man is insane.  MAHATMA GANDHI SAID: Islam was born in an environment where the sword was and still rmains the supreme law.  The sword is yet too much in evidence among Mussalmans.  It must be sheathed if Islam is to be what it means -- peace."  GANDHI WAS A FUCKING HINDU COWARD!  I beg your pardon!  Gandhi was a saint of a man!  HERE!  HERE!  Gandhi was one of the great men of the century!  A GIANT!  A MORAL GIANT!  A leader in the best sense of the word.  GANDHI WAS THE GREATEST PATRIOT OF THE CENTURY!  Gandhi also wrote: THE THIRTEEN HUNDRED YEARS OF IMPERIALISTIC EXPANSION HAS MADE THE MUSSALMANS FIGHTERS AS A CLASS.  THEY ARE, THEREFORE, AGGRESSIVE.  BULLYING IS THE NATURAL EXCRESCENCE OF AN AGGRESSIVE SPIRIT.  THE HINDU HAS AN AGE-OLD CIVILIZATION.  HE IS ESSENTIALLY NONVIOLENT.  PREDOMINANCE OF THE NON-VIOLENT SPIRIT HAS RESTRICTED THE USE OF ARMS TO A SMALL MINORITY; NOT KNOWING THE USE OF ARMS NOR HAVING AN APTITUDE FOR THEM, THEY, THE HINDUS, HAVE BECOME DOCILE TO THE POINT OF TIMIDITY OR COWARDICE.  MY OWN EXPERIENCE CONFIRMS THE OPINION THAT THE MUSSALMAN AS A RULE IS A BULLY AND THE HINDU AS A RULE IS A COWARD.  IF THE HINDUS WISH TO CONVERT THE MUSSALMAN BULLY INTO A RESPECTING FRIEND, THEY WILL HAVE TO LEARN TO DIE IN THE FACE OF THE HEAVIEST ODDS.  HINDUS MUST CEASE THE FEAR THE MUSSALMAN BULLY.  I am no bully!  YOU ARE DRUNK!  I am  Allah's warrior!  MOSES DE LEON IS LISTENING!  Isaac Luria is listening!  THE NUMBERS 1 THROUGH 11 EQUALS 66, WHICH IS THE NUMBER, ALSO OF ALLAH.

 

1

A

Allah

30

L

 

30

L

 

5

H

 

 

 

 

66

 

 

 

66 is the Mystic Number of the Qliphoth.  GULL GULL.  Girl Girl.  GALL GALL.  Ahh, the Wheet.  THE WILL.  OVLM HQLIPUTh.  HA-QLIPHOTH IS THE WORLD OF SHELLS, OLAHM HA-ASIAH, THE ABODE OF EVIL SPIRITS.  Shells.  THE WORLD OF ASIAH.  Anti-Universe.  YES.  ANTI-UNIVERSE.  Death, as opposed to Life.  THE DEMONS ARE THE MOST DEFICIENT OF ALL FORMS.  To the darks the Jews are white; and to the whites the Jews are darks.  THEY ARE MEN TO THE WOMEN RACES; AND THEY ARE WOMEN TO THE MALE RACES.  I see.  THE QLIPHOTH ARE THE DEMONIC DEGREES, TEN IN NUMBER, ANSWERING TO THE DECADE OF THE SEPHIROTH, BUT IN INVERSE RATIO.  Anti-Universe.  YES.  Michael leads the armies of the Sephiroth; and Satan leads the armies of the Anti-Sephiroth.  THE NEGATIVE NUMBERS?  Yes.  SMAL, THE ANGEL OF POISON AND DEATH.  HIS WIFE IS A HARLOT, AShTH ZNVNIM, ISHETH ZENNUIM; UNITED THEY ARE CALLED THE BEAST, CHIVA, CHIOA.  THEY ARE, THUS, THE INFERNAL TRINITY, THE ANTI-TRINITY.  Smal is Satan.  131.    WHO IS SEBETHA SEBI?  SS.  SS.  60 60.  One Twenty.  HIS NAME IS NOW AZIZ.  950 piazzas a day.  HE CONVERTED TO ISLAM.  Messiah, my ass!  a'aVLM HQLYPVTh.  The powers of evil appear in the shape of the animate dead: skulls, bones, zombies, vampires, phantasms.  THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL -- THAT IS, DEATH.

 

  

 

Drat!  WHO IS MOSES MENDELSSOHN?  Son of a poor Torah scholar.  I SMAL EQUALS ISLAM.  Is Mal.  IS BAD, POISONING THE WIND.  Tip, Tip.  Wind and branch.  Window; and trance.  Tip, Tip.  DE LEON.  Let him speak, the speaking stone.  The stone that Zeus feeds his father.  WHAT?  Be High, Priest -- Be High.  AS SWORDS ARE CROSSED, MENDELSSOHN.  They hate the living -- and they want the world destroyed.  THEY SAY THEY HATE THE WORLD BECAUSE IT IS EVIL.  BUT THE TRUTH IS, THEY HATE THE WORLD BECAUSE IT DOES NOT RECOGNIZE THEIR GENIUS.  SO THEY CONDEMN IT.  The Zohar explains that the purpose of the Priesthood here on earth was similar to that of Tiphereth in the heavenlies, that being to unify the left and right sides of the Godhead, which in turn unifies the upper and lower worlds (that is, Tiphereth and Malkuth).  It is written: 'The one lamb thou shalt offer in the morning, and the second lamb shalt thou offer at even' (Numbers, XXVIII, 4).  Prayers have been ordained to correspond to the daily offerings. Through the impulse from below there is a stirring above, and through the impulse from above there is a stirring higher up still, until the impulse reaches the place where the lamp is to be lit and it is lit. Thus by the impulse of the smoke (of the sacrifice) from below, the lamp is kindled above, and when this is kindled all the other lamps are kindled and all the worlds are blessed from it. Thus the impulse of the sacrifice is the mainstay of the world and the blessing of all worlds. When the smoke commences to rise, the holy forms in charge of the world derive satisfaction, and are disposed thereby to stir the grades above them; and so the impulse rises until the King desires to associate with the Matron.  Through the yearning of the lower world the lower waters flow forth to meet the upper waters, for the upper waters do not flow save from the impulse of the desire from below. Thus mutual desire is kindled and the lower waters flow to meet the upper waters, and worlds are blest, and all lamps are kindled, and upper and  lower are endowed with blessings. Observe that the function of the priests and Levites is to unite the Left with the Right. Said R. Hizkiah: ÔThat is so, but I have been told that one rouses the Left and the other the Right, because the union of male and female is only brought about by Left and Right, as it says: 'O that his left hand were under my head, and his right hand should embrace me' (S. S. II, 6). Then male and female are united, and there is mutual desire and worlds are blessed and upper and lower rejoice. Hence we see that the sacrifice is the support and the mainstay of the world, and the joy of upper and lower.Õ Said Rabbi Jose:  ÔYou are certainly right, and I had heard this before but had forgotten it. This, too, I have learnt, that nowadays prayer takes the place of sacrifice, and a man should fittingly pronounce the praise of his Master, and if not, his prayer is no prayer. The most perfect form of praising God is to unify the Holy Name in the fitting manner, for through this upper and lower are set in motion, and blessings flow to all worlds.Õ  Midrash Rabbah gives us a direct connection between Tiphereth and the High Priesthood:  And the honour of his excellent (Tphereth) majesty, and elsewhere we read: And thou shalt make holy garments for Aaron thy brother, for splendour and for beauty-tifereth (Exodus, XXVIII, 2). Just as the word 'Tiphereth' in this connection refers to the robes of the High Priest, so does the word 'Tiphereth' mentioned in the story of Ahasuerus refer to the robes of the High Priest.Õ  Midrash Rabbah also connects Tiphereth to the one who calmed the seas (Matthew 8:24-27):  Midrash Rabbah - Esther II:1 - A fool spendeth all his spirit (Prov. XXIX, 11): this applies to Ahasuerus.  But a wise man stilleth it within him: this applies to God who calmed Ahasuerus, in the same way as it says, Who stillest the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves, and the tumult of the peoples (Psalm, LXV, 8.). 1. WHEN HE SHOWED THE RICHES OF HIS GLORIOUS KINGDOM (I, 4). The School of Jannai and Hezekiah both said: He used every day to open six treasuries and show them the contents. Rabbi  Hiyya b. Abba said: He showed them the accounts of his expenditure. Rabbi Judah b. Simon said: He showed them the dishes of the Land of Israel. Rabbi Levi said He showed them the priestly robes. It says here, HIS GLORIOUS (TIPPHERETH) KINGDOM, and it says elsewhere, And thou shalt make holy garments for Aaron thy brother, for splendour and for beauty- -- that is, Tiphereth (Exodus, XXVIII, 2). Just as the word 'Tiphereth' there refers to the garments of the high priest, so here it refers to the garments of the high priest.  Concerning the above, the 'New Testament' teaches that Yeshua/Jesus is our heavenly High Priest, and that we are to be conformed to His image (Romans 8:29). Paul, in his letter to Ephesians, encourages believers to do this by being 'strong in the Lord and in the power of his might.'  Paul's description of how we are to do this, is to 'put on' the priestly garments: Ephesians 6:10-17: Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.  HE IS BUILDING A CASE TO TAKE TO COURT.  Is his lawyer taking notes over there?  I BELIEVE HE IS.  Ted Clause, note-taker extraordinaire.  TED, DID YOU GET ALL THAT DOWN?  It's like Greek to the meek.  IF A = B AND B = C, THEN C = A.  The logic of splinterss.  SPLINTERS IN THE BRAIN.  Oh, that good?  THE SOUND OF ONE FART CRACKING.  Coming out of your nostrils -- wood?  A TEMPEST IN A T TOP.  The parlance of the private man, impelled to move up, forward in the ranks, not by ambition, but by an angel's imperative.  WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?  Crossmann is a private man.  A man who loves privacy.  IN TRUE VERTICAL FASHION.  VERTICAL RAYS OF THE SUN.  Arguing with God that God leave him alone.  LET ME BE A QUIET MAN WITH A QUIET LIFE.  Please.  YOUR WILL AND NOT MY WILL.  Building some kind of case to present to the high court.  IN HIS COAT OF MANY COLORS.  What?  IN THE HIGH PRE-SENTENCING ROBES OF THE CONVICT.  Convicted but for the sake of conviction.  HEART OF HORRIBLE FASHION.  Orange.  YOU HAVE TO WEAR THOSE UNATTRACTIVE ORANGE POLYESTHER JUMPSUITS.  And the other thing.  WHAT?  You know, the other thing.  LET'S NOT GET IN TO THAT.  Prison is an indelicate destiny, is it not.  TODAY IT IS.  It always has been.  AND WHY WOULD HE BE SENT TO PRISON.  They suspect that he is a messenger of hate.  YOU KNOW, THE PROBLEM WITH HIS BROTHER BEING SUSPECTED OF BEING TED KUZINSKI.  But he was not Kuzinski.  AND THE IMPLICATION OF CROSSMANN, THEN, BEING THE BROTHER WHO TURNED HIS BROTHER IN TO THE POLICE.  Yes, but this was all a case of mistaken identity.  PEOPLE DON'T EASILY FORGET.  Easily forget what?  HIS BROTHER LIVES IN MONTANA NOW.  LIVES CLOSE TO THE CABIN KUCINSKI LIVED IN.  That is just a rumor.  LIVES CLOSE TO THE WHITE BROTHERHOOD UP THERE.  They live in Idaho.  THERE ARE SOME IN MONTANA TOO.   But something happened.  WHO IS  JOSEPH HELLER?  Correct.  TITLES OF NOVELS FOR ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS, ALEX.  In the founding of the Islamic Arabic empire, Mohammed establish a blood meridian as a symbol of the High Noon of the year.  WHO IS CORMAC MC CARTHY?  Yes, Bill Styron, you have it.  WASN'T 'HIGH NOON' A NOVEL TOO, ALEX?  Who is Louie L'Amour, Alex?  BASTARDS!  SPEAK EVIL OF ISLAM AND THE MULLAH WILL PRONOUNCE A FATWA ON YOU -- LIKE THAT DAMN ENGLISHMAN!  Who is, what is....The Devil's Apprentice, Alex?  INCORRECT.  What is Salmon Rushes Home, eh, The Salmon Returns, Alex?  AGAIN, INCORRECT.  What in The Satanic Verses, Alex?  YES, THAT IS CORRECT.  Infidels!   I DO NOT DISRESPECT THEIR GOD, SIR!  I SPEAK ONLY OF THE FALLIBILITY OF MEN -- NOT GODS!  I RESPECT EVERY MAN'S SEARCH FOR GOD -- EXCEPT THAT HE DESIGNATE ME AS HIS LAMB WHEN I HAVE NO COTTON TO BE A MULLAH'S MUTTON.  No rotton passion to be a killer's button hole.  OH, LET'S NOT GET IN TO THAT.  Don't bend over to pick up the soap, friend.  SHH!  SHE'S MAD AGAIN!  What a face!  MOTHER OF GOD'S CLOUDS!  Dreams.  WE'RE NOT DONE YET?  Where did the alpha-boy go?  STUCK ON T T LIKE A BABY ON HIS MOMMA'S KNEE.  A drink of water.  A long drink of water.  FREEZES IN THE SNOW.  WE are almost done.  TRULY?  And what then?  CAN YOU SMELL THE BURNISHED FLESH?  IT IS GETTING STRONGER.  Can you hear all the ambulances?  WHAT'S GOING ON?  I heard some kind of explosion too.  REMEMBER, THE ARABS BOMBED THE WORLD TRADE CENTER?  We saw it earlier tonight, when riding in the limousine.  BY GOD, YOU'RE RIGHT.  I ALMOST FORGOT IT.  Burning flesh?  Who said something about burning flesh and blood?  BURNISHED TROPE.  Fall Keneally.  WHAT IS SCHINDLER'S LIST, ALEX?  I do not disrespect the book.  I do not disrespect the writer.  I believe the message his been twisted in to a form of hatred instead of a form of love.  THE CANT OF HIMMY SMITH BLACK.  The Canticle of Heimy Smoke Stack.  THAT ISN'T FUNNY!  IT'S ONLY FUNNY TO AN ANTI-SHEMITE!  Blast!  NO, CHANCE!  CHANCE!  THE CHANCE OF JIMMY WHITE CLARK!  Ahh.  YES, AHH.  Let Moses speak to his twin.  HIS TWIN?  You know what I mean?  HIS BROTHER.  I met a strong speaker, who cast his voice through a Marion net.  PARTICLE PHYSICS.  The Magician on one side; the Old Woman who lives in a shoe; the boy-angel named Moses beside him; and the brother from hell too -- from Montana.  How can he lose?  LISTEN: TEA TIME AGAIN.  What does it mean?  TEA TIME AGAIN.  I don't understand what it means.  I need a faith which has a social conscious.  PETER, PLEASE PEAL AGAIN THE BALES THE BALES TO MAKE THE LIVING WEEP.  TO MAKE THE LIVING WEEP.  Kamikaze Quazimoto.  IN THE BELL TOWER, IN THE TOWER!   I'M AFRAID HE MEANS TO JUMP!  Terah Firma.  IN SINAI, THROUGH MOSES, THE LETTERS WERE BORN.  MOSES WAS BORN TO BE A LETTER-CARRIER.  And some say that with the birth of the letters, Man's eyes were opened to sin.  MAN'S EYES WERE OPENED.  The son came down here.  DAYLIGHT.  Vanquished moonlight.  PRIME NUMBER.  Primary letter.  IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD.  AND, INHERENTLY, THE LETTER.  What about before the beginning?  BEFORE THE BEGINNING WAS THE PREGNANT MOTHER, THEN THE SOUND, THEN THE WORD.  FLESHLESS WORD.  Deep in the Earth; the Father gone, the Sun gone.  IS IT I?  DEAR GOD, IS IT I, IN TRUTH, WHO MUST APPEAR IN THIS WORLD, RAISING A SWORD, STRIKING DEATH IN THE HEAD?  Who was that?  I DIDN'T RECOGNIZE THAT VOICE.  Pantomime?  BENT THRILL OF QUEST.  RENT THRILL OF CHRIST.  Vent treaty.  The wind of the world.  The wind of the weeping water wakes the wren.  ZEUS YOURSELF.  With a thumb, you mean?  WASATCH ROMAN, WASATCH ROMAN.  Get out your gun.  The world has been dreaming.  Soon Thor will wake the sleepers.  The goose will fire a fart of thunder.  ANGELS WATCH US.  WATCH US ROAMING.  I smell propane gas.  I HEAR BREAKING GLASS.  What time is it?  TEE TIME.  TEAT TIME.  The child is enslaved to the darkness.  The child is weak.  The child understands the image in the eye; and the mother.  The child is close to the image and the dream; the mother and the dream.  AND IT IS ONLY THE LETTER THAT RAISES THE BOY INTO THE MAN, THE BOY AWAY FROM THE EARTH, THE BOY TOWARD HIS FATHER, TOWARD HIS FATHER IN THE AIR, HIS FATHER IN THE SUN.  The letter is the ladder.  JACOB'S LADDER.  The letter is Time.  Sequence.  The Line in the Circle.  DIAMETER.  DIAMETER IS NOT DEMETER.  Teat Time becomes, in time, Time Time.  RHYME TIME BECOMES, IN TIME, PROSE POSSESSION.  Left-Right.  Right-Left.  THE HAND IS MARRIED TO THE TEMPLE; AND THE TEMPLE IS MARRIED TO THE EYE THROUGH LIGHT.  Light.  Everything is Light.  NIGHT IS NOT LIGHT.  Night is Anti-Light.  THESEUS.  ME THESIS.  Medea.  Recedia.  MINOTAUR.  AMAZON.  Amazon.  Minotaur.  In kabbalistic literature, both Tiphereth and Yesod are seen as the male accompaniment to the female Sephirah of Malkuth (the Shekinah). In the arrangement of the Sephiroth, Yesod lies directly between Tiphereth and Malkuth. (Recall that the central column of the 'Tree of Life,' decends from Kether, through the 'non-Sephirah' of Da'ath, then to Tiphereth, Yesod and finally Malkuth.)

 

                                               

 

As a leading modern kabbalist, Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh, writes: In Kabbalah, the third day, Tiphereth ('beauty'), is the origin of the sixth day, Yesod ('Foundation'). Tiphereth and Yesod totally integrate in the secret of the 'middle line' - 'the body and the brith (covenant) are considered one.'   The above quotation refers to Tiphereth as 'the body' and Yesod (below it) as the 'covenant' ('brith'), stating that the two are considered as one -- although they function differently.  Yesod is most commonly seen as the ninth Sephirah (counting from Kether at the top). It is a complex attribute as it contains all that came 'before it,' (of the previous eight Sephiroth). Looking from 'below,' Yesod is generative, in that it is the source of God's blessings (as has been mentioned). Regarding it from 'above,' it is reflective of what came before it.  This is especially true in its relationship with Tiphereth, which lies directly above Yesod in the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Yesod is considered an 'image of the image' or 'mirror within the mirror,' with regard to Tiphereth. As it maintains the complementary functions of giving and receiving, the foundation of Yesod must be sound, hence it has an association with purity.

 

1

Kether

 

 

 

11

Da'ath

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

Tiphereth

 

 

 

 

 

 

9

Yesod

 

10

Malkuth

 

 

 

37

 

 

 

AGAIN, WE HAVE THE NUMBER 37.  37 times 3 is 111.  YES.

 

14

o

23

x

 

 

37

 

 

Ox is aleph, or 111.  It is also 37.  WE ARE COMING BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED.  And Da'ath is?  DA'ATH IS KNOWLEDGE.

 

4

D

Knowledge

 

 

70

a'a

 

 

 

 

400

Th

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

474

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

70

a'a

Testimony within the Ark

4

D

 

 

 

 

400

Th

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

474

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

70

a'a

Ram; Goat prepared for sacrifice

400

Th

 

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

474

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is this the Scapegoat?  Connected to the Knowledgeable One; and the testimony in the Ark, the commandments, the letters, and the covenant with God?  THESE THREE ARE CONNECTED IN SOME MANNER CLEARLY.  One can grasp the image of the invisible God throught Tiphereth, due to its embodiment of the characteristics of all the Sephiroth.  The Messiah's encompassing relationship to the Sephiroth (also called spirits of God) and to da'ath, (knowledge) is seen in this prophetic verse:  Isaiah 11:2 - The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him-- the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.  37 IS THE ESSENTIAL DIFFERENTIAL.  THE GROUND UPON WHICH WE MOVE.  THE SKY FROM WHICH WE DESCEND.

 

           1 + 1 + 1 = 3, 3 x 37 = 111                                              

           2 + 2 + 2 = 6, 6 x 37 = 222                                              

           3 + 3 + 3 = 9, 9 x 37 = 333                                              

          4 + 4 + 4 = 12, 12 x 37 = 444                                            

          5 + 5 + 5 = 15, 15 x 37 = 555                                            

          6 + 6 + 6 = 18, 18 x 37 = 666                                            

          7 + 7 + 7 = 21, 21 x 37 = 777                                            

          8 + 8 + 8 = 24, 24 x 37 = 888                                            

          9 + 9 + 9 = 27, 27 x 37 = 999                                            

         10 + 10 + 10 = 30, 30 X 37 = 1110

 

The Son is extended through the world.  The woman is the Dawn or Spring, the one who brings the dark man back into light; the woman is also Dusk or the Autumn, the one who brings the light man back into the darkness.  TETRAGRAMMATON.  TETRA.  GRAMMER.  TRON(META).  Tuetonic Tempest.  TALK TALK.  Trouble.  Trouble.  TOIL TOIL.  Which Water?  This?  That?  'Thother?  YES.  Male.  Female-Female.  Male.  FATHER.  WIFE-DAUGHTER.  SON.  EXTENDED IN SPACE, DOWN IN TO THE DARK REGIONS.  The Son under Water.  WISE WATER.  Temporary Tempest.  TITULAR TITAN.  Temperamental Trachea.  TALK TALK.  Tip. Tip.  THE TRUTH.  ONLY THE TRUTH.  SO HELP ME GOD.  Yesod.  THE FOUNDATION OF SOULS.  To understand the full role of Tiphereth, we need to underestand Yesod's relationship to the Sephiroth of Tiphereth, which lies above Yesod in the Tree of Life, and Malkuth, which lies below Yesod. We will examine similarities and complementary differences, as well as the role Yesod plays in linking the other two.  Included in the generative aspect of Yesod is its being the foundation of souls: Bahir 157 - The Blessed Holy One has a single Righteous One (Tzadik) in His world, and it is dear to Him because it supports all the world. It is the Foundation (Yesod). This is what sustains it, and makes it grow, increasing and watching it. It is beloved and dear on high, and beloved and dear below; fearsome and mighty on high, and fearsome and mighty below; rectified and accepted on high, rectified and accepted below.  It is the Foundation of all souls.  Yesod is also called the 'Foundation of all souls' because souls are said to be born through the union of Yesod-Foundation to Malkuth-Kingship.  Yesod is associated in the soul with the power to contact, connect and communicate with outer reality (represented by the sephirah of Malkuth). The foundation (Yesod) of a building is its 'grounding,' its union with the earth (Malkuth).  The Zohar speaks to the same theme of the soul (in this case, specifically the Neshemah), coming from the union of Yesod to Malkuth.   Zohar Appendix III - The Designations and The Categories - Further, the lowest grade, Malkuth, is regarded as female in respect of the six grades of Ôheaven and earthÕ, and is often referred to simply as ÔThe FemaleÕ. More specifically, it forms a pair with the grade Yesod (Foundation) immediately above it.  The two, when thus conjoined, are usually designated Zaddik (Righteous One), and Zedek (Righteousness), and out of their interaction issues the neshamah as the soul of man.  A  function of Yesod regarding Malkuth is for the purpose of unifying the latter to Tiphereth. As mentioned in an earlier study, Tiphereth is considered to be the 'originator' of the Neshemah (the higher soul): Soncino Zohar Appendix III - The Divine Name - It remains to say a few words on the place occupied by the Holy Name, the Tetragrammaton [YHVH], in the scheme of the Zohar. In the Cabbalistic doctrine the name formed by the four Hebrew letters yod, he, vau, he, has a special and intimate connection with the grade of Tiphereth, of which it is in the strict sense the proper name. We must understand this to mean that if one could grasp with sufficient clearness the nature of the grade Tiphereth, especially as the originator of the neshamah, he would automatically perceive that this is the fitting appellation which should be given to it. To this grade of comprehension Moses and the other prophets actually rose, and this was the basis of their inspiration. There is, however, a difference between the inspiration of Moses and that of the other prophets. Moses was able to grasp the connection between the grade (Tiphereth) and the Name (YHVH) fully and clearly, but the others only through a haze, as it were, since their comprehension only reached fully to the two inferior grades of Netzach and Hod, the two ÔpillarsÕ or Ôwillows of the brookÕ, as they are fancifully called.  HE IS DRAWING SOMETHING IN THE SNOW AGAIN.

 

 

                                               

 

 

Within the hands of Yesod/Tzaddik are the souls of all living things. Because of this it is also called Hei ha-olamim (the 'eternally living one,' or, 'Living God').  This is reflected in Paul's usage of the term, assembly of the Living God, found in 1 Timothy 3:15, in which he refers to this pillar (foundation), and 'ground of truth,' represented by the souls who make up the 'assembly of the Living God.'  He also implores the wise not to trust in earthy riches, but in this 'Living God' who provides (El Shaddai, a name of God associated with Yesod): 1 Timothy 3:15 - But if I tarry long, that you may know how you ought to behave yourself in the house of God, which is the assembly of the living God [Yesod], the pillar and ground of the truth.  1 Timothy 6:17 - Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God [Yesod], who giveth us richly all things to enjoy.  The concepts Paul is teaching Timothy, are also found in the following Talmud tractate: Our Rabbis taught: It is related of King Monobaz that he dissipated all his own hoards and the hoards of his fathers in years of scarcity. His brothers and his father's household came in a deputation to him and said to him, ÔYour father saved money and added to the treasures of his fathers, and you are squandering them.Õ  He replied: ÔMy fathers stored up below and I am storing above, as it says, Truth springeth out of the earth and righteousness looketh down from heaven. My fathers stored in a place which can be tampered with, but I have stored in a place which cannot be tampered with, as it says, Righteousness and judgment are the foundation of his throne. My fathers stored something which produces no fruits, but I have stored something which does produce fruits, as it is written, Say ye of the righteous [zaddik] that it shall be well with them, for they shall eat of the fruit of their doings. My fathers gathered treasures of money, but I have gathered treasures of souls, as it is written, The fruit of the righteous [zaddik] is a tree of life, and he that is wise winneth souls. My fathers gathered for others and I have gathered for myself, as it says, And for thee it shall be righteousness [zedakah]. My fathers gathered for this world, but I have gathered for the future world, as it says, Thy righteousness [zedakah] shall go before thee, and the glory of the Lord shall be thy reward.Õ  The 'Tree of Life,' is often mentioned in discussions surrounding Yesod, and is associated with Tzaddik (the Righteous One) and Torah, as well as the month of Shevat, when Moses (the Tzaddik) recounted the Torah to the Children of Israel.  As stated by Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh:  The tree of life, as expressive of the potential for restoring perfection to all reality, appears in Jewish sources as symbolic of both the tzadik--foundation of the world' and the Torah, in particular its inner dimension--the esoteric tradition. Thus the month of Shevat, when we concentrate on grafting ourselves to the tree of life, is an especially important time for attaching oneself to the tzadik by way of the 'sweet' Torah issuing from his mouth. For this reason we find that it was during the month of Shevat that the children of Israel heard Moses recapitulate the Torah, as recorded in the book of Deuteronomy (Mishnah Torah).  The 'Tree of Life,' carries with it very deep esoteric meaning, particularly that of the essence of the Tzaddik (his soul), being 'hidden' like the roots of a tree.  As also expfressed by Ginsburgh:  The tree - as composed of roots, a trunk, branches, and fruit - is seen in Kabbalah as a metaphor for the process whereby Divine light and energy is channeled into Creation.  Let us elaborate upon the various components of this metaphor: The roots of the tree represent the power of the Tzadik's soul, which absorbs and draws forth the invisible Divine life-force underlying Creation, making it available to all mankind in order that each individual can ultimately produce his own unique fruit. The paradox of the tzadik is that while he exists in a 'revealed state' (known to his generation), ministering to Creation and serving as a model of Divine service, his essence (or soul root) remains utterly hidden, like the roots of a tree.  The Tzadik himself is conscious of both these modes of existence. He is thus able to consciously exist 'in the world and outside it' at one and the same time.  Paul spoke in the same terms regarding the life of the Tzaddik (in this case, the righteous followers of Yeshua), being 'hidden with Messiah.' (that is, existing, 'in the world and outside it at one and the same time'.)  His prescription for continuing in this state, was obedience to the commandments of Torah: Colossians 3:1-6 - If ye then be risen with Messiah, seek those things which are above, where Messiah sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Messiah in God. When Messiah, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory. Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry: For which things' sake the wrath of God cometh on the children of disobedience.  EXCUSE ME A MOMENT, BOYS.  I NEED TO TAKE A LITTLE WEIGHT OFF.  Plain urinist?  YES.  NUMBEER ONE.  SAVE MY PLACE.  A wind shifting in from the north.  The smell of burning flesh passing.  Cold air coming down from the Arctic.  YES.  GO ON, MOSES.  Moishe.  MOISHE.   The similarity between Tiphereth and Yesod is reflected in the relationship between Jacob and his son, Joseph.  Before approaching this subject, we will review how the seven lower Sephirah correspond to the patriarchs:

 

                  Chesed/Mercy = Abraham, worshipping from love of God

                  Geburah/Judgment = Isaac, worshipping from fear of God

                  Tiphereth/Beauty = Jacob, the one unifying the two sides of mercy and judgment

                        as well as the link between uppermost and lower 'worlds

                  Netzach/Victory = Moses, as prophet and 'active' seeker of Revelation

                  Hod/Glory = Aaron, as Priest and 'passive' restriction based on the commandments

                  Yesod/Foundation = Joseph, as the righteous and pure steward

                  Malkuth/Kingdom = David, as the worldly man

 

Thus, when speaking of Jacob, the correlation is to Tiphereth, with Joseph, it is to Yesod.  Jewish literature draws great comparisons between Jacob and Joseph, and therefore between Tipheret and Yesod, considering one as the image of the other. (As mentioned earlier, Yesod is the 'image of the image' of Tiphereth): Soncino Zohar, Bereshith, Section 1, Page 176b - The Shekinah was thus leagued with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob together with Joseph, inasmuch as the two latter are one in essence, each one being the image of the other, as indicated in the words: 'These are the offspring of Jacob: Joseph' (Genesis, XXXVII, 2).  A modern book on kabbalistic symbolism reveals the following between Jacob and Joseph:  But Joseph resembled Jacob ... thus it is said by both of them,  'Am I under God?' Jacob said: 'Am I under God?' (Genesis 30:2); Joseph said: 'Am I under God' (Genesis 50:19). This alludes (to the fact that) Joseph is in the chariot like Jacob. ... Moreover, we have a matter alluded to by the true sages regarding why he is called Joseph the righteous. It is because his attribute is close to the attribute of his father ... truth (the attribute of Jacob) and peace, the attribute of Joseph, are one.  The idea that Joseph is in the chariot like Jacob, shows that the unity of God is more prevalent at a 'higher level' of prophetic vision.  The following two texts from the Zohar points to the likeness of Jacob and Joseph, mentioning how what happened to one, also occured to the other, and that how (although they are the same), one (Joseph) is 'near,' and the other (Jacob) is 'far.' This is interesting when we think of Jacob as representing Tiphereth in the heavenlies, and Joseph as the earthly Tzaddik, with divine qualities.  This concept parallels how Yeshua's work here on earth as Tzaddik, is done (outside of time) in the heavenly realm as Tiphereth (that is, He was crucified in the flesh, but is also the 'Lamb slain since the foundation of the world'. Having performed His role in all worlds, He makes peace in all places.  Esoterically speaking, benediction does not abide save where male and female are together, and since at that time the male was not with her, all the souls that issued then were not the same as they had been when the sun was in union with the moon, as already said.  This union is symbolized by the relation of Joseph to Jacob, as expressed in the verse, 'These are the generations of Jacob: Joseph.' This form of expression implies that Jacob's image was completely reproduced in Joseph (as Father and Son), and that whatever happened to the one happened to the other also, the two being parallel and having the same esoteric symbolism.Õ   Soncino Zohar, Bereshith, Section 1, Page 6a - For the other, the highest Sabbath does not come under the injunction of Shamor (keep), but is under that of Zakhor (remember), which is used in the first version of the Ten Commandments (Exodus, XX, 8), since the Supreme King is hinted at in the word Zakhor (remember).  For this reason He is called 'the King with whom Peace dwells', and His peace is within the injunction of zakhor (remember). And this is why there is no contention in the supernal realm, because of the twofold peace here below, one for Jacob and one for Joseph, as it is written, 'Peace, Peace, to him that is far off and to him that is near' (Isaiah, LVII, 19): 'to him that is far off' refers to Jacob, 'and to him that is near' refers to Joseph.  SILENCE.  This Moses has an appetite for language.  LANGUAGE AND NUMBER.  Yes.

 

7

Z

Remember;

 

 

20

K

Male (Sacred Phallus)

200

R

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

227

 

 

 

 

 

                                               

2 PLUS 2 PLUS 7 IS ELEVEN.  Tedium.  TE DEUM.  Did everything come out alright?  YES.  DID I MISS ANYTHING.  Jacob and Joseph.  JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH.  No, JJ IS TO TY WHAT....  OH, NOW I DON'T REMEMBER?  WHAT TIME IS IT?  Nobody knows.  IT'S STILL DARK.  IT MUST BE ABOUT.   Mohammed Atef.  AYMAN AL-ZAWAHIRI.  What?  Who?  I DON'T KNOW.  I DIDN'T SAY IT.  Who did?  OVER THERE.  Oh, him!  At least he's quiet now.  HE'S FATIGUED.  Yes.  HE CAN'T HARM US NOW.  It would appear not.  SHAMAR, WE WILL REMEMBER, IS THE FEMALE; AND RELATES TO THE NIGHT.  ZKR IS THE MALE; REMEMBERING RELATES TO THE DAY, TO LIGHT, AND TO THE MAN.  Wo is Moses Montefiore?  YOU'LL FIND HIM DOWN AT THE STOCK EXCHANGE.  The stock exchange is probably burning by now.  WHAT?  Who said that?  AHMAD.  OUR FRIEND BY THE DOOR.  What does he mean by that?  DOES HE HATE MOSES MONTEFIORE -- BECAUSE HE'S JEWISH?  Undoubtedly.  YESOD IS THE FOUNDATION.  HE IS ALSO THE FOUNDATION STONE -- THAT BLACK-GUARDIZED STONE, HURTLE-TURTLED OUT OF HEAVEN.  What?  MOSES IS READY AGAIN.  Although there is similarity between Tipheret/Jacob and Yesod/Joseph, we can also see distinction between the two. The former is associated with God as creator, seen in 'maleness' as an active principle (YHVH), and the latter as God as sustainer (El Shaddai), and seen as 'maleness' transposed into procreative power.  This procreative function of a Tzaddik is to bring people to God, (that is, 'he who wins souls is wise.' - Proverbs 11:30).  As eloquently stated by Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh: The Tzaddik procreates by arousing the souls of his generation to return to God and the Torah.  Yesod, as the 'righteous one,' does not represent God as judge (John 12:47). This role is ultimately associated with Tiphereth (see, John 5:22). As Gershom Scholem states, Tiphereth and Yesod represent, 'two different sides of the Godhead.'  Yesod is also seen as the 'crossover' point from the first heaven (Asia/Making) to the second heaven (Yezirah/Formation), Tiphereth represents that from the second to the third heaven (Briah/Creation).  We can now see more clearly how Yeshua is reflected in both Tiphereth, (in the roles and functions he performs above, such as the heavenly Kohen Gadol (the High Priest), in the order of Melchizadek), and in Yesod, as the righteous suffering servant who lowers Himself from a heavenly status to redeem His kinsmen.  Such a distinction between Tiphereth and Yesod is found in a passage of scripture where God tells Moses that He will be speaking to him at the (higher) level of YHVH (associated with Tiphereth) and not at the level of El Shaddai (associated with Yesod), as He had spoken to the forefathers:  Exodus: 6:2-8 - And God speaketh unto Moses, and saith unto him, `I am YHVH, and I appear unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, as El Shaddai; as to My name YHWH, I have not been known to them; and also I have established My covenant with them, to give to them the land of Canaan, the land of their sojournings, wherein they have sojourned; and also I have heard the groaning of the sons of Israel, whom the Egyptians are causing to serve, and I remember My covenant. `Therefore say to the sons of Israel, I am YHVH, and I have brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and have  delivered you from their service, and have redeemed you by a stretched-out arm, and by great judgments, and have taken you to Me for a people, and I have been to you for God, and ye have known that I am YHVH your God, who is bringing you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians; and I have brought you in unto the land which I have lifted up My hand to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, and have given it to you -- a possession; I am YHVH.'  With Tiphereth (the groom) being united to Malkuth (the bride) and Yesod lying 'between' them, it would seem sensible that the latter must play an important role with the other two. This is indeed the case. The role of the 'heavenly Tzaddik' is emulated in the physical realm by the righteous on earth.  The Zohar commentary on Exodus further explains the situation with Moses (the earthly Tzaddik), and how Tiphereth and Malkuth were united through him: AND MOSES SPAKE BEFORE THE LORD, SAYING: BEHOLD, THE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL HAVE NOT HEARKENED UNTO ME, HOW THEN SHALL PHARAOH HEAR ME, WHO AM OF UNCIRCUMCISED LIPS? How did Moses dare say this?  Had not the Holy One already promised him, when he said that he was not eloquent, that He 'will be with his mouth' (Exodus, IV, 10-12)? Or did the Holy One not keep His promise? However, there is here an inner meaning.  Moses was then in the grade of 'Voice' [Tiphereth], and the grade of 'Utterance'  [Shekinah-Malkuth], was then in exile. Hence he said: 'How shall Pharaoh hear me', seeing that my 'utterance' is in bondage to him, I being only 'voice', and lacking 'utterance'. Therefore God joined with him Aaron, who was 'utterance' without 'voice'. When Moses came, the Voice appeared, but it was 'a voice without speech'. This lasted until Israel approached Mount Sinai to receive the Torah. Then the Voice was united with the Utterance, and the word was spoken, as it says, 'and the Lord spake all these words' (Exodus, xx, I).  Then Moses was in full possession of the Word, Voice and Word being united. That was the cause of MosesÕ complaint (v. 23), that he lacked the word save at the time when it broke forth in complaint and 'God spake to Moses' (VI, 2). On this occasion the word began to function, but it ceased again, as the time was not yet ripe; hence the verse continues, 'and said to him, I am the Lord'.  Only at the giving of the Law Moses was, as it were, healed of his impediment, when the Voice and the Utterance were united in him as their organ. Before that event the power which is Utterance guided Israel in the desert, but without expressing itself until they came to Sinai.  The Zohar's commentary on Song of Songs (Song of Solomon), also refers to this union of Tiphereth and Malkuth via Moses.  Rabbi Judah interpreted in the same sense the verse from the Song of Songs (v, 5-6): 'I rose up to open to my beloved, but my beloved hath withdrawn himself and was gone'. As long as the Community of Israel is in exile the Voice [Tiphereth], is withdrawn from her and the Word does not function, as it says, 'I am dumb with silence' (Psalms, XXXIX, 3); and even when the Word does awaken, 'my Beloved hath withdrawn Himself', that is, it suddenly ceases, as it did at first with Moses.  The role of joining Malkuth to Tiphereth belongs to the one in the place of Yesod-Tzaddik: 'Jacob, who is called Tiphereth, is the masculine world that is standing, and he wanted to join the feminine world (Shekinah), which is sitting, by means of Yesod, which is called peace and tranquility.'  '... just as the divine saddiq serves as a conduit connecting the Holy One blessed be He [Tiphereth], and the Shekinah [Malkuth], so by means of walking the earthly saddiq [Yesod] unites with the feminine Presence [Malkuth] ... 'the sephirah of Yesod above serves to unite the waw (VAV) [Tiphereth] and the HE' (lesser HE) [Malkuth] of the Tetragrammaton (YHVH)'.  The term 'walking' (halakha) in the above citation, is used kabbalistically to refer to the arousal of the union of the masculine [Tiphereth] and feminine [Malkuth] aspects of God. This is associated with the concept of tikkun (repair of creation and unification of the Godhead), accomplished through works of Torah.  This 'look ahead' to the eternal tikkun (when Tiphereth and Malkuth finally come together), was foreshadowed in the sacrificial system instituted by God. The Zohar explains how the 'heave offering' played a mystical role, along with the righteous person, in this unification of Tiphereth (representing the heavenly realm) and Malkuth (representing the earthly realm): (Zohar)  'They shall take Me a heave offering.'  Here we have displayed an inclusive union of the above with the below, for it does not say 'They shall take a heave offering', but 'They shall take Me a heave offering', which denotes a fusion of the upper with the lower spheres. [that is, Tiphereth with Malkuth].  'On the part of everyone whose heart is willing ye should take my heave offering.'  The words 'on the part of' seem at first sight to be superfluous, but in reality they contain a deep lesson for the masters of the esoteric lore.  Blessed are the righteous who have learnt how to centre all their thoughts and desires on the Heavenly King, and whose aspirations are directed, not towards the vain and foolish toys of this world and its lusts, but to attaching themselves wholeheartedly to the world above in order to draw down the favour of the Lord Himself from heaven to earth.  King David was another Tzaddik who was able to unify Malkuth and Tiphereth.  Note that David's praise was directed to Tiphereth, (in essence Yeshua in the heavenlies): (Zohar) The words 'I will give praise to thee' were addressed by King David to the Holy One, blessed be He [Tiphereth], for that last world which He has made [Malkuth]; for David attached himself to that world and through it attained to kingship. 'I will wait on thy name, for it is good': this is the Holy One, blessed be He [Tiphereth, when unified with that world which is called 'good'. And when is it called good? When it is in the presence of thy saints, or rather, 'loving kindnesses'. ... for when these are filled from the goodness of the stream issuing from the Ancient Holy One, then Yesod is called 'good', and then He [Yesod] establishes this latter world and all is blessed.  Hence David waited for this grade to illumine the world to which he was attached.Õ  Because Yesod plays this active role in uniting the heavenly groom (Tiphereth) and bride (Malkuth), yesod is referred to also as ha-teshukah, 'the light of desire' -- a term used for the desire of the male for the female.  When the soul (Neshamah) of the Tzaddik is involved in religious activity, it affects the Sephiroth, specifically uniting Malkuth to Tiphereth: When the neshamah ascends, the desire of the feminine for the masculine is aroused and the waters pour forth from above to below.   As mentioned in our earlier studies, the Sephirah of Malkuth (the bride), when kept apart from its groom (Tiphereth) becomes the source of harsh judgment on the world.  The Bahir uses a great deal of bodily and sexual allegory to explain such concepts.  As stated by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan: Even though we know that God is absolutely incorporeal, having neither body, shape nor form, it is taught that, 'He borrows terms from His creatures to express His relationship to His creation (Mekhilta on Exodus 19:18). These terms are used allegorically, but at the same time, each has a definite meaning in terms of the Sephirot.  As mentioned earlier, Tiphereth (or Zer Anpin, the six Sephiroth represented by Tiphereth), represents the main trunk of the (male) body.  Yesod, being beneath the body, is the 'phallus' (as this is the Sephirah that generates souls and sustains life). Malkuth represents the female counterpart to this.  Keeping these allegorical concepts in mind, note the following commentary to the Bahir, explaining the relationship between these three Sephiroth. The function of Yesod is in bringing them together, thus playing a key role in bringing 'peace' to the world:  But in order for Malkhuth-Kingship to act in a mode of Mercy, it must be bound to Zer Anpin, this being the concept of the Supernal Union. This Union, however, takes place through Yesod-Foundation, the sex organ, which is also called Righteousness (Tzaddik). Yesod-Foundation, however has two modes, one of celibacy and one of intercourse. The Righteous is one who is 'separated from sex,' and therefore, when it is in this mode, it is called, 'the Righteous, the Foundation of the world.' The word 'world' here is Olam, also having the connotation of Elam - Hidden. Therefore, Yesod-Foundation is called Righteous when the sex organ is hidden and not expressed. Similarly, Joseph is called Righteous (Tzadik) precisely because he refused to have intercourse with Potiphar's wife. When Yesod-Foundation is in this mode, there is no union between Zer Anpin and the Female. The Female is therefore in the mode of Judgment. In the second mode, Yesod-Foundation is called Chai - 'alive.' It is said to be 'alive' when it is functioning during intercourse.  If a person pursues righteousness, then he arouses its counterpart on high and brings about the supernal union. He then 'may live and occupy the land.' When the verse says that he will 'live,' it means that he will bring Yesod-Foundation into its mode of Chai, which is that of union. He will then occupy the 'Land,' which always alludes to the Sefirah of Malkhuth-Kingship, which is the Female.  SUN, MOON AND EARTH.

 

                                   

 

SO, WHAT ARE WE TO BELIEVE IN ALL OF THIS?  What?  BELIEVE?  WHAT?  Nothing is free.  WHAT?  I DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT?  I feel that we are waiting for Godot out here?  WHAT?  Beckett.  YES.  BUT THAT BOY, MOISHE -- I AM NOT FOLLOWING WHAT HE IS SAYING.  HE IS LIKE A JEWISH BOY-BILLY GRAHAM.  WHAT IS THIS ALL ABOUT?  IS THIS WHAT IS MEANT BY PRAYING?  Get a grip, now.  The logic is simple.  He is building his case for divinity again.  YES.  BUT WHO IS CREATING HIM?  IS THE BOY ANGEL CREATING HIM SO?  Perhaps.  METATRON -- WASN'T THAT HIS NAME?  Yes.  HE IS CONNECTING TIPHERETH, THE SUN, MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL WITH JESUS CHRIST.  And with Crossmann himself?  OBVIOUSLY, THAT IS THE MESSAGE.  Why?  FOR THE SALVATION OF THE WORLD, I SUPPOSE.  Does the world need to be saved?  THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION.  I'M NOT SURE THAT IT DOES.  THE WORLD IS THE WORLD.  PERFECT IN ITS IMPERFECTION.  That line has already been used.  WELL, I NEVER SAID I WAS ORIGINAL.  JUST SMART.  I see.  PRIDE COMES.  Jesus, not this again.  I'M FREEZING.  Put on your gloves.  What are you doing without gloves.  I'M BEGINNING TO THINK THAT WE DON'T BELONG HERE REALLY.  WE ARE NOT REALLY POETS.  WE ARE MORE PROSE.  Prosaics?  PROSE-MASTERS.  I WAS GOING TO SAY PROSE-MASTERS.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND ALL THIS ESOTERIC AMMBULATION.  PERHAPS YOU DO, PROFESSOR BLOOM.  You are Jewish, afterall.  WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?  Well, it is your kabbala?  WE SHOULD GO INSIDE.  I DON'T KNOW WHY WE ARE OUT HERE ANYWAY.  If you go inside, you'll have to be with HIM!  YES.  IS HE PASSED OUT?  Do you really think he's dangerous?  IT DEPENDS ON WHETHER HE REALLY HATES AMERICANS AND JEWS AS MUCH AS HE SEEMS TO.  He has a different kind of mind, afterall.  HE IS A DECENT MAN.  I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM.  HE HAS BEEN POSSESSED BY THE DEVIL -- THAT MUST BE IT!  Possessed by Hate and by Destruction.  YES.  HE WAS A VERY NORMAL MAN EARLIER TONIGHT.  That is the side he showed you.  WHAT?  That was the side he showed you -- so he could fit in; and be liked.  But his real nature he has kept hidden.  His real nature is that of the murderer.  I DON'T BELIEVE THAT.  HE IS A MAN.  HE IS A DECENT MAN.  HE HAS JUST BEEN.  Bitten by the fit of agenwit?  WELL, YES -- PERHAPS.  HE WILL BE FINE IN THE MORNING.  THE DARKNESS IS JUST LIKE LIQUOR TO HIM.  THE DARKNESS HAS MADE HIM DRUNK WITH.  Disease?  YES, SOME KIND OF DISEASE.  Anthrax?  WHAT?  Smallpox?  I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  The Black Death?  I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SUGGESTING.  Shawn the Post carrying letters to men of congress.  WHAT?  ILLEGAL CONGRESS?  Letters.  YES.  Letters dug up out of the Earth.  ABCDEED.  Jewish architecture of sticks, twigs, rocks, sun and moon, doors, camels, deer, ox goads, arrows, swords.  PULLING LANGUAGE OUT OF THE AIR.  AND GIVING IT FORM.  They who are verboten fur image hammer an image of God in the form of the word.  BRONZE AND GOLD AND SILVER IMAGERY OF LOOM.  EARTH AND SUN AND MOON BUILT OF VOIDS.  Sinking Matriarchy.  WHAT?  In Alpha and Beth, Alpha, the Man, becomes paramount.  And Beth, the wife, becomes secondary.  EARTH BECOMES?  Secondary to the sky.  SHLAIN AGAIN.  In the Darkness, the Man exists below the Woman, in the Shadow of the Woman, the Earth.  At Dawn the Man rises, through the Woman (Our Matrona or Daphna), rising into the Sky, rising up above Woman, making Woman and Earth beneath Him.  GLANDULAR ICONOGRAPHY.  Moses Sesom Somes Semso.  OH, NO, IS HE COMING BACK AGAIN?   In Kabbalah, that which is intermediate between two extremes possesses aspects of both those extremes. Therefore, Yesod has characteristics of both the 'masculine' Tiphereth and the 'feminine' Malkuth.  The Zohar associates the Tzaddik (Yesod) with the 'Angel of the Lord,' from the book of Exodus. This angel is said to manifest itself in both male and female forms. (Note also the relationship between the colors of the rainbow and aspects of God.]:  (Zohar)  While they were sitting midnight arrived, and Rabbi Judah said to Rabbi Jose: ÔNow the north wind awakes and the night is divided, and now is the time when the Holy One, blessed be He, longs for the voice of the righteous in this world, the voice of those who study the Torah. Now God is listening to us in this place; therefore let us not cease from discoursing on the Torah.Õ  He then commenced: THE ANGEL WHO DELIVERED ME FROM ALL EVIL . This is the same as the one mentioned in the verse: 'Behold I send an angel before thee...' (Exodus, XXIII, 20), who, as we have laid down, is the deliverer of the world, the protector of mankind, and the one who procures blessings for all the world, he himself receiving them first.  This angel is sometimes male, sometimes female. When he procures blessings for the world, he is male, resembling the male who provides blessings for the female.  But when he comes to bring chastisement on the world he is called female, being, as it were, pregnant with the judgment. Similarly, in the words, 'the flame of the sword which turned every way' (Genesis, III, 24), there is a reference to the angels who are God's messengers, and who turn themselves into different shapes, being sometimes female and sometimes male, sometimes messengers of judgment and sometimes of mercy.  In the same way, this angel can take all colours like the rainbow, and treats the world correspondingly.  An example of a Tzaddik taking on 'female' characteristics is found in Luke's Gospel. Here we find Yeshua (the Divine Tzaddik), referring to Himself in terms of the Kingdom (Malkuth), which is feminine. Interestingly, the various versions of the 'New Testament' translate this verse in one of two ways: Luke 17:21 - Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you (King James Version).  Luke 17:21 - nor will they say, 'Lo, here it is!' or 'There!' for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you (Revised Standard Version).  Both translations are legitimate, as the Hebrew preposition 'be' means 'with' as well as 'in.' Thus, the Kingdom can be found by looking for God within oneself (that is, where the Sephirot may be 'found,' as we are made in His image), in the manner of humility and repentance - defined as turning away from the flesh to following Torah.   Tzaddik-Yesod (as represented by Yeshua) therefore contains elements of the Kingdom (as He was [potentially] the Kingdom in their midst), giving Tzaddik-Yesod (and thus Yeshua), 'female' characteristics as well. (Malkut-Kingdom is identified as having primarily female characteristics.)  This is true, as Yeshua is the image of God, which is both male and female.  Genesis 1:27 - So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.  It also helps explain why Yeshua speaks of Himself using a female analogy:  Matthew 23:37 - O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!  The Sephirah of Yesod is said to 'include the female,' through its being bound to it:  In Kabbalistic teachings, 'Judgment' is Zer Anpin itself. Thus six of the seven [lower] Sephirot are 'Judgment,' which are the six of Zer Anpin. The Sephirah of Yesod-Foundation, which is the male sex organ, also includes the Female ...  This is also reflected in the Bahir, (which bases this theme on Genesis 2:24, where a man and wife become 'one flesh'):  The covenant of circumcision [Yesod] and man's mate are considered as one.  This linking of the male and female is mirrored in the Olam Haba, (World to Come), where the righteous (Tzaddik) in heaven are seen as being bound to the Shekinah. This is represented in the form of being given 'crowns on their heads.' (It is also associated with 'white garments,' as mentioned several places in Revelation): Man then binds himself to the Female, just as the male cleaves to the female in a physical sense. The Female is the Divine Presence (Shekhinah).  This binding is the ultimate delight of the World to Come, and it is thus taught, 'In the World to Come ... the righteous will sit, with their crowns on their heads, delighting in the radiance of the Shekinah' (Berakhot 17a).  The gift of these crowns, and thus eternal life, is directly related to Torah observance.  John made it quite clear that those who will one day 'be like him,' (in the 'radiance of the Shekinah'), are those who have purified themselves, which is done by turning from sin (as defined by Torah), and following the 'path' of the Tzaddik - one who is a 'hearer' and a 'doer' of Torah or the Law.  Note that John makes it a point to define sin as 'lawlessness' (going against the Torah):  1 John 3:1-7 - See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Beloved, we are God's children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. And every one who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure. Every one who commits sin is guilty of lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. You know that he appeared to take away sins, and in him there is no sin. No one who abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him. Little children, let no one deceive you  He who does right is righteous, as he is righteous.  An example of John's admonition for the servant of the Lord to be 'pure' is seen in Daniel. His righteousness resulted in an amazing proclamation regarding the 'kingdom' of Darius, who declared that the God of Daniel (note: 'the Living God' - Yesod), would be the God of his (Darius) kingdom.  Thus, Daniel brought God's shalom to the kingdom of Darius, just as the Divine Tzaddik brings peace to God's Kingdom: Daniel 6:20-28 - And when he came to the den, he cried with a lamentable voice unto Daniel: and the king spake and said to Daniel, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the lions?  Then said Daniel unto the king, 'O king, live for ever. My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocence was found in me; and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt.' Then was the king exceedingly glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in his God. And the king commanded, and they brought those men which had accused Daniel, and they cast them into the den of lions, them, their children, and their wives; and the lions had the mastery of them, and brake all their bones in pieces or ever they came at the bottom of the den. Then king Darius wrote unto all people, nations, and languages, that dwell in all the earth; 'Peace be multiplied unto you. I make a decree, That in every dominion of my kingdom men tremble and fear before the God of Daniel: for he is the living God, and stedfast for ever, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed, and his dominion shall be even unto the end. He delivereth and rescueth, and he worketh signs and wonders in heaven and in earth, who hath delivered Daniel from the power of the lions.'  So this Daniel prospered in the reign of Darius, and in the reign of Cyrus the Persian.  LOVE, CHRISTOPHER.  LOVE -- NOT WAR.  Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers.  TINY TIMMY TINNED A TON OF TARNISHED TURNIPS.  Tubby Teddy Turned a Tent of Tuburcular Testimonialists, Toxic Temperamentals, To Treacherous Traitors, Teaching Treason Tied to Temperate Testaments; Then Toned a Tune for Troubled Troubadours.  TESTY TEACHERS TALKED TO TEMPEST-TRADERS, TELLING THEM TOPICALLY-TIPPED TALES OF TRAVESTY'S TOTAL TANKING TWICE TO TRADE'S TELLING TRUTH.  Truthfully.  TELE-TUBBY TRUTHFULNESS.  The tit is happier than the tot.  THOTH IS TROTHFULLER THAN THE TITHE.  Ahh, how could anybody not like this boy?  IS THIS SOME KIND OF JEWISH CONSPIRACY -- WORDS, I MEAN?  You'll have to ask the White-Power Boys.  OR ASK THE BLACK-POWER BOYS.  Caught in-between some wedge.  A tiff, a tiff -- Time threads a tiff for wrath is full and met at Tronheim.  NIDAROS.  Greek tome sounding silver on the sight of it.  OLAV TRYGGVASON, OF FIKING VAME, OUNDED FAYE ITTY SAY AT OUTH MAY IVERS RAY NIDELVA  EL NEVADA EN DELVA  VULVA EDEN'S RAY.  Tock tock tock.  While the guns begin to go off.  WHO HAS CROSSMANN'S PISTOL NOW.  Does Ishmael have it?  WE TALK MANY TIMES BEFORE WE MAKE A SOUND.  Porous invention; a thumb inside one's ear, piking dike ter.  COUNTING TO TEN.  COUNTING TO TWELVE.  Thirteen being the nose.  AHH, A GOOD NUMBER.  Emm.  A GOOD NUMBER UNDER.  Shlain was the anti-semite.  YES.  The one who used his intellect to strike at the Jews.  DEAD?  What?  CADMUS PLANTS THE DRAGON'S TEETH IN SOIL -- AND THEY GROW INTO SOLDIERS.  Who all kill one other -- until only five are left standing.  THESE ARE THE VOWELS, THEN?  A, EEE, Eye, Oh, You.  OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE EXCLAMATIONS, WHOSE SONGS ARE REMEMBERED AND SUNG CLEAR ACROSS THE WORLD.  Counting on one hand: A E I O U.  Generators of motion.  THE FIVE-FINGER PROPHECY.  In to your pocket.  Then out again, holding your wallet.  WATCH HIM GOOD.  HE'S A DANDY; BUT HE'S ALSO A TTTTTTERRORIST.  Ayyyyyyyyye.  A ROLLING MOSE GATHERS NO ROSS.  Phoenician maven.  DRAGON OF BEOTIA.  Tail tipping; tail tapping.  CAPTURE SOUNDS, CADMUS.  BUILD AN ALPHA-BETA.  Sounds come first; and then the shells inside of which sounds live.  SOUNDS COME FIRST.  EVERYTHING COMES FROM THE ZERO.  AND THEN THE ONE.   Take this test:

           

            Multiply 111,111,111 times 111,111,111.

            This returns 12345678987654321.

 

Doesn't that tell you something?  I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  ARE WE SPEAKING OF NUMBERS HERE?  OR LETTERS?  Mosh, b'gosh.   Loss is boss.  MARIONETTE, CLARIONETTE.  Moses' Roses.  SPEAK, MISTER GEEK.  SPEAK, OF THINGS CONCEALED AND BLEAK.  The earthly tzaddik, may of course, be male or female. One of the more significant righteous women of the Bible, from a kabbalistic viewpoint, is Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron. As we have earlier discussed, Moses is associated with the Sephirah of Netzach, and Aaron with Hod. These Sephirah are concerned with the 'management' or 'filtering' of what comes from above to the world below. The children of Israel, with the Shekinah among them, are represented by the Sephirah of Malkuth.  So what about Yesod-Tzaddik in this relationship?  This role was played by the righteous Miriam. As the tzaddik, it was she that acted as 'mediator' between the people and her two brothers, who (especially Moses) were very close to God and involved with His instruction, that they distanced themselves from the people.  Two related episodes confirm her role. One involved the time that she spoke against Moses and received the punishement of Tzaraat (incorrectly called 'leprosy' in most Bibles) - in fact having her skin turn completely white (Numbers, chapter 12).  When a person was striken with Tzaraat (a punishment of mercy from God) they had to stay away from the camp for at least seven days. Normally, this person would follow the main group of people as they continued their journey. In Miriam's case however, the people did not move at all until she was brought back to the camp. Why did they wait?  The common explanation is out of respect, but if we examine the text closely, we will see that it may have been out of necessity -- due to her role as the Tzaddik, who brings forth the flow of God's blessings from the heavens above to the people below.  We know that the blessings that followed the children of Israel were directly linked to a mysterious rock/well that followed them in their journey. We see in Numbers, chapter 20, that when Miriam died, the rock/well that supplied their water (which also represents God's blessings), was not to be found. As we will discuss in the next section, the rock/well is directly associated with Yesod-Tzaddik.  Thus we have Moses, Miriam and Aaron representing the 'lower triad' of Netzach, Yesod, Hod, placed between the higher heavenly realm and the people.  SPETSNAZ.  Riki Tiki Tavi.  MAKE THE SIGN OF THE CROSS, QUICKLY, WHEN YOU SPEAK THAT NAME!  Let nothing grieve thee, O Land of Ta, for God hath chosen thee to be the source of the joy of all mankind.  AHH.  HU BALLA.  Shaun coming 'round again.  DELIVERING THE IMPORTANT LETTER FOR THE LOVERS.  Does he wear gloves; or a gas-mask now?  NOT ENTIRELY.  Single You.  DOUBLE YOU.  Ahh, the marriage bed, a grand design.  Eff You.  Effie Feffie.  Double You, Double Vee.  MOSES DE MAIMONIDES,  HIS LEATHER LETTER-BAG FULL OF TOXIC THOUGHTS.  A Thranax.   A trachea full of polyps points.  U.  A cup.  A VAGINAL CUP.  You or Vee?  BOBBY VEE?  Ur, perhaps, Heather Bush?  A DAUGHTER OF GEORGE W?  Female productive power.  EMPTY CUP, FULL CUP.  Mother in her cups.  BUT IT WASN'T A PROBLEM.  Head of a horned asp.  AHH, YES.  SO EGYPTIAN.  Unicorn.  USUAL UNICORN.  Virginity.  VESTALLY UNDONE.  Uni Atma.  THE LOWER TRIANGLE.  Vagina Viologue.  VAGINA VIOLIN.  Ursa Major; Ursa Minor.  VAMPIRE EMPIRE.  VAMPIRE CAMP-FIRE.  Victory and Life.  VERMONT; AND UTAH.

 

                                   

 

Virgo.  Virgo.  Who's got the Virgo.  PISCES, AQUARIUS, CAPRICORN, SAGITTARIUS, SCORPIO, LIBRA, VIRGO.  ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN.  Seven is the Virgin because no number below 7 can enter into 7 (divide it); and 7 does not reproduce itself in any numbers of the decad.  The sacred numbers 1-10.  VULVA.  VAGINA.  VENUS VICE.  And what of Double Vee?  VESTAL VIRGIN?  Let's not forget about Gemini?  TWINS, YOU MEAN?  The Well.  The Wheel.  The Water-Wager.  Mother's Wa-Wa.  M is Mater; M is Mother.  The M is the inverted W; the W is the inverted M.  Mater Materia.  Woman's World.  Womb.  Weather.  Whether.  Whither.  Whatever.  Witch.  Whichever.  WILLIAM.  Walkabout Weekend Warrior of Winter.  VAV, THE SON, THE F, HAS GIVEN BIRTH, IN LATIN, TO THE U, THE V AND THE W.  I see.  NOTHING ELSE?  Nothing else -- you mean beside sight.  THE SEED IS IN THE EARTH, BURIED IN THE WOMB.  BUT IT WILL NOT BE FRUCTIFIED INTO LIFE UNLESS THAT RAY OF SPRING LIGHT ENTERS IT AND BRINGS IT OUT OF THE EARTH, UP IN TO THE SKY.  I see.  OUT OF THE EARTH AND WATER; INTO THE AIR AND THE FIRE.  Wagna Water.  WASCOVIA.  White Water.  WIPE WHILE WET.  Female blood.  EYE.  Female Fecundity.  NOSE.  Female Fatality.  MOUTH.  Athena, Wisdom, the Virgin Maiden, in Greek Gematria, equals 77.  COUNTING CROWS BY HAND.  Crows and Doves.  WATER, WATER, SO MUCH WATER.  Nuah's blue; he cannot count the wealth of waves.  GRINDING AN AXE.  Antimony in your pocket.  VOCKET VAUNCHER.  Viefdom.  VERY VERY....VIOLET VALUE.  What Winsome Wife Waits Wondering What Wicked Wraith Wastes Wax Wiping Wreathes With Writer's Wit, Woeful, Worried White With Wretched Willfulness, Warrior's Wrath Webbing Weak Willowy When Walkers Weild Wrecking Wisdom with Willing Waterdom.  AWRY WITH WORRY.  So welcomely white of you, Xavier.

 

                       

 

X OF CUTE.  What?  SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL LYRICAL LUKE, LINGUIST.  New Excrement?  WHAT?  Matthew, Mark, Luke, John.  MAMMAL LUJA.  Luke, Matthew, Mark, John.  LUMAN AT ARK JOE.  What?  John, Luke, Mark, Matthew.  JAIL UKRANIAN MARKED MEN A FEW.  John Matthew Mark, Luke.  JOIN MATH USE MARVELOUS KEYS LOVE.  Temporary cranium.  EXCEPTIONAL TEMPORARY CRANIUM.  Into the body and out again.  FOUR DIRECTIONS APPROACHING ONE ANOTHER IN MANY COLORS ON MANY HORSES EACH CARRYING A BOOK OF REVELATION.  Samekh.  WHAT?  Samekh.  SALMON?  Fish.  PISCES FISH.  Fish bones.  Skeleton, ribs and spine and backbones and existential tibia.  I SEE.  Ex.  Ex-communicate.  Ex-ecute.  Ex-tempore.  Ex-celsius.  Ex-caliber.  Ex- emplary.  APOCALYPSE.  Cross again.  WHAT?  North-South-East-West contracting.  12345678987654321.  Ex-ecutive.  OF WHAT?  Ex-ecutive Branch.  TREE.   PINE TREE.  THE CEDAR OF LEBANON.  The nun is an invertebrate fish, moving like a smake up in the branch, talking godless frequencies in support of x-termination.  AYE.  SERPENT OF CORPULENT CUNT.  Priest of the vertebrate fish, the ladder of Jacob's franchise.  GIVE THE OLD MAN A CANE.  HE CAME IN ON FOUR; HE MOVED ACROSS ON THREE; HE GOES OUT ON FOUR.  SphinX.  X-COLUMN; Y-COLUMN.  Why?  Why, Kaye? 

 

                       

 

W Z Y K.  Woychek?  HERZOG.  WERNER.  Wapiti Kel.  BOOK KELLZ.  Tunc page.  NEW EXCREMENT?  What?  TAKING A TUNC?  What?  YES YES YES.  I BELIEVE THAT'S TRUE. Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.  Now it looks as though we're here to stay.  OH, I BELIEVE.  I BELIEVE.  Kike, Dike, Yikes.  A HAND GIVEN OUT.  A hand holding a yarmulke.  THE CAP OVER THE NORTH POLE.  The Yce Cap.  YIKES CAP.  Yammersday pap.  MONETARY YELLOW.  MONETARY YELLOW.  Gold cap, you mean?  WHAT?  The tooth?  The tooth of Wisdom.  ZEUS PUT HIS WANKER INSIDE OF METIS.  Wetis put her winnker around old Suez.  FIRE BY FRICTION.  Sparks fly.  SPARKS WANNABE.  Wisconsin.  Washington.  WE.  WE  WIIL.  WE WILL WALK WHOLE WHEATFIELD TO FIND YESUS.  The gold metre.  THE YAMMER OF YORE.  ZEUS.  ZACHARIAH.  ZEBULON.  ZEDECHIAH.  ZESUS.  Gee.

 

                       

 

77.  YES.  7777.  ZOT.  Zayin.  Times Two. ZERO.  The End.  THE ARROW OF THE END.  Sagittarius.  A VULGAR WORD FOR THE MALE SEX ORGAN.  Zisuthrus.  ZIMBABWE.  Zammer.  Zickus.  Zorro.  ZAZ.  ZOO PITS; ZOO CRITTERS.  Double Dick.  THE 26 ENDS.  ZERO.  Multiple heads.  Multiple icons.  THEIR GOD FORBADE THE WORSHIP OF THE IMAGE -- BUT WHAT ARE THESE LETTERS IF NOT IMAGES?  Symbols of sounds.  NOT IMAGES?  Iconographic imprimateurs.  HE PUTS AWAY HIS  BOOK FOR A MOMENT -- TO THINK.  He has a bag of books.  YES.  Letters gone.  XARHTNA IN THE EPOLEVNE.  Letter-carrier.  NEEDING WATER.  Anti-histimine.  ANTI-BIOTIC.  Fire over Water.  Ear over Eye.  LAZARUS UNDERSTANDS ZOMETHING, WHEN HE COMZ BACK.  Zio.  Dio.  X-ecration.  Yin-carnation.  X-Zaminaton.  MATERNA MATRIX.  And then?  X-AXIS; Y-AXIS. 90 plus 45 plus 45 equals 180. 

 

                                   

 

Gentlemen, cross your swords.  Cross your swords.  THE 26 ENDS; AND THE TEN BEGINS.  The 36 Paths of Wisdom.  NUMBERS COMES FIRST, AND ARE CLOSEST TO GOD.  The Numbers are the gods; Letters come from God.  IF NUMBERS ARE THE GODS, THEN GEOMETRY MUST BE THE THOUGHTS OF THE GODS.  An Ideal Sentence.  I THOUGHT YOU'D AGREE.  360 must mean something then.  THE CIRCLE.  Yes, but there must be more.  The Circle is Ideal.  But it must mean some even here, down here where nothing is Ideal.  IS 365 THEN BUT A PERMUTATION OF THE IDEAL 360?  I don't know.  WHERE IS PLATO?  IS HE NOT HERE?  Pythagoras then?  I DON"T SEE HIM.  I'm afraid he's gone.  IS HE THAT MAD DERELICT INSIDE?  No, absolutely not.  That is Abdullah, master of algebra.  All-generative breaker of the two condition in man.  PLA DO.  Pla Do Re Me.  MUSIC IS THE FRANCHISE OF THE NUMBER.  Music is the sounds of numbers.  NUMBERS SPEAK THROUGH THE SOUND OF MUSIC.  YES.  THE GODS SPEAK THROUGH MUSIC.  He's taking out his book again.  WHO?  Moses.  DE LEON?  Frank.  OH, YES.  Let him read then.  DOES THE WOMAN APPROVE OF HIM?  She doesn't like Jews, remember.  IS SHE ANTI-SEMITIC?  Aren't they all?  ALL OF WHOM?  ALL NEW AGERS.  New Angers hate the Earth; they hate the Earthly things.  They hate man.  I'M NOT SURE THAT IS TRUE.  Bespeak truth to me, then.  Do not hide it beneath bushelbaskets.  HEAR THE WORDS I SPEAK.  She is clucking like an old hen, black in her array.  NEVER UNDERSTAND BUT WHAT YOU HEAR, VERILY, WITH YOUR EYES.  The history of meaning is the history of forgetting the image, the history of suppression of the visible.  No doubt there are good reasons for this.  Freud, in his book Moses and Monotheism, claimed that 'the prohibition on making an image of God -- the compulsion to worship a God whom one cannot see...meant that a sensory perception was given second place to what may be called an abstract idea -- a triumph of intellectuality over sensuality....  SOME ARGUE THAT THIS LEADS TO THE SUPPRESSION OF WOMEN; AND TO DE-VALUATION OF NATURE.  The end of the imaginary matriarchy that one hears about.  IMAGINARY?  Formed by the imagination.  IS YOU CLAIM THAT MATRIARCHIES NEVER DID EXIST EXCEPT IN THE MIND?  Claim?  Or Inference?  DEVIL'S ADVOCATE.  For Freud, a departure from the visibility of the divine represented the dematerialization and deterritorialization of the sacred, the transition from the sacred-pagan to the holy.  This movement eventually resulted in a transition from the stone-built place of worship (the Temple) to worship through the book, a transition from the cult to the cultural.  The prohibition on graven images also applied to writing and the shape of the letters.  The fact that images could not be depicted may well have been the mechanism that caused the alphabet to change so radically from the pictographic form to the abstractions of the alphabetic form.  It is not going too far to consider, as did L. Benveniste, that 'writing was born on Sinai'.  On the basis of these considereations, it would appear that the abstract form of the letters of the alphabet have a superior status to that of the pictorial form as we encourntered it in proto-Sinaitic.  However, we believe it is important to take the trip back to the original image and that this step is required if we are to be able to link up withou our most ancient and deeply-buried memories.  This is not a violation of the prohibition on representation, as long as we are in a dialectic mode and seeking the meaning and we do not fall into the trap of being stuck in the rut of 'this means that and that alone'.  ANTHROPOMORPHISM.  AND ANTHROPOMORPHISM ALONE.  Deity.  TWODEITY.  Out of the rib of Adam.  Comes the feminine TzLa'aTh.  The astral wing.  RIB-EX.  Romul-ex.  REM-EX.  Dream-Ex.   WATER.  Watger-Wager.  WATERPOND REFLECTION.  Born from the wound in your side; as you sleep.  Someone issues out.  Somone you admire; someone beautiful; someone glamorous.  It is love.  Venus is ever-near.  ADAM THE RED, BLOODIED BY PRIDE.  Red Earth.  DAPHNA.  Soldier of Soldering.  HE IS NOT DONE SPEAKING, READING, THE RED MAN.  Let him read.  MShH RBYNV.  The ban on the image is a ban on the static form of being.  Being, the primal force, or aleph, in our terms, pursues a dangerous course.  Once spoken, being risks falling into the trap that said exercises over to say -- and risks becoming an oracle in which the said elements become fixed.  The immobile said becomes a visible sense, idea and idol.  The force of to say at the heart of said must always be maintained in order for the said to avoid becoming a theme.  CONTINUE.  due to the risk of immobilization of the process of meaning within said, one must go back from the said to the to say, to rediscover the dynamic power of meaning at the very heart of the state at which language has become static; the said must be unsaid.  The said of words coagulates the fluency of time into a 'something' -- turns it into a theme, lends it meaning, adopts a position in relation to something fixed in the present, represents it, and, thus, tears down the fallibility of time.  'Words that have been said' become said already; the the diachrony of time synchronizes into memorable time, and becomes the theme.  The memory of the form that lives within the word is the difference between the word's present and its past, its origin; memory is disntance and the dynamic time at the heart of the said.  Memory is a mode of temporality that illuminates and resonates for 'the listening eye'.  I DON'T GET IT.  WHAT IS THIS ABOUT?  This is about the image, before the beginning, the timeless.  The fixed image.  The icon.  THE PAINTED WORD.  Fixed.  Frozen.  THE WORD MOVES.  THE WORD IS SERIAL.  THE WORD IS TEMPORAL.  Becoming.  OLD GOAT'S 'BECOMING'.  Girder, you mean?  GARTER, YOU MEAN?  Be coming.  Becoming.  JAH.  Fixation.  SOMETHING FIXED IN THE PRESENT.  Present Danger, you mean.  BENTONITE AND SILICA!  Pardon.  HE'S BACK!  You see, the secret is to use bentonite and silica!  Treatment with these elements keeps the spores from fusing, keeps the spores floating in the air!  This makes the spores much more deadly!  Don't you understand this?  I DON"T UNDERSTAND.  What is he talking about?  IS HE A CHEMIST TOO, TRUMAN?  He is an architect.  I think he's an architect.  DON'T YOU KNOW?  Yes, he is an architect.  SO WHAT IS ALL THIS TALK ABOUT POLYPS AND SPORES AND CLAY AND SILICONE?  I don't know.  I really don't understand.  He's been drinking, of course.  Something has happened to him.  LET HIM JUST GO TO SLEEP.  HE WAS QUIET THERE FOR AWHILE.  We remember that 'ZKR' means remembering; and the male phallus.  So Moses discussion of Memory and the power of the word; and the apparent rising of man connected with alphabetic learning -- this all begins to make some kind of sense.  HOLD YOUR NOSE AND LISTEN, FRIEND.  What?  WHY ARE WE HERE, AGAIN?   Prayer, Son. YES.  Ba'ay.  ShVa'aH.   Saint Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. And you, Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into Hell Satan and the other evil spirits who prowl the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.  THE OTHER EVIL SPIRITS WHO PROWL THE WORLD FOR THE POISONING OF INNOCENT SOULS.  Ha, ha!  No one is innocent!  No one is innocent!  SEND HIM EAST OF EDEN, TRUMAN.  Let us relax for a moment of two.  I DEEM JAMES TO BE UNWANTED IN THIS PARADISE.  Far amazed am I at the stamina of the dead.  ICY TONE; ICY MANDIBLE INTONING DREAD IN THE LEADEN FEATURES: A MAN OF CHALK.  DON'T LET HIM TALK.  The image is full of enigmas.  It is plastic.  It thus makes it possible to emerge from 'our stiffness, that is to say the certainty of our world, the opinionated nature of our culture' -- as Blanchetot writes.  The image lends itself to writing, at the same time as it resists and remains foreign.  Blanchetot writes: 'The image is essentially dual.  NOt only sign and signified, but figuring and unfigurable, the form of the formless, ambiguous simplicity addressed to whatever is double within us and re-animating the duplication by which we are divided, we re-assemble indefinitely.  The image trembles; it is the trembling of the image, the frisson of that which oscillates and vacillates.  It constantly comes out of itself; that is because there is nothing where it should be itself, always outside itself and always already outside of this outside, at the same  time as a simplicity which renders it simpler than any other language and is in the language of the source from which it 'emerges', but this source is itself the power of 'emergint', the renewal of outside insides (and through) writing.'  JESUS.  WHOSE VOICE WAS THAT?  It sounded French.  BUT WHERE DID IT COME FROM?   I SWEAR, THAT MAGIAN MUST HAVE HIS HAND UP THE BACK OF POOR MOISHE'S SHIRT.  HE IS ANIMATING THE POOR BOY WITH WORDS BROUGHT DOWN FROM SIN'S HEAVY VACINITY.  Peno Keo.  MAGIC, MISTER LECTURE.  Vine trode locusts.  SOMEONE IS THROWING A VOICE, EITHER FROM HERE OR FROM THERE.  The old woman too.  Madame Bluebroodsky.  ISN'T SHE TOO THROWING A COW?  Having a cow, I believe you mean to say.  Throwing a vock, I think, is what you mean.  THROWING A ROCK, I BELIEVE, IS WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY.  Throwing several vox.  I believe that is what you really mean.  AND WHAT OF THE FRENCH DUDE?  I believe he likes to hear his own voice echo.  WHAT WHAT?  Fac ut ardeat cor meum.  In amando Christum Deum, Ut sibi complaceam.  BOSS NEON.  The image that we discover, that we stress, does not introduce a meaning, but the possibilityh of multiple meanings.  The archeographic approach is a path leading from the already stated meaning to the image of the meaning, to the clarity of perception to the vacillation and trembling of the outlines of things and of being, which captures the vibration of meaning, the freedom, the libration.  Archeography deciphers the palimpsest; the script beneath the script; the words which are coiled withing the entrails of the words; the words which are sprayed by the wash of words.  New words, bridge against oblivion.  It give the ear the opportunity of the unheard; it gives the eye the flexibility of the forbidden; it gives the mouth the breath of the new; it gives the hand the drunkenness of a poem.  TIP, TIP.  I'LL DRINK TO THAT.  Fault nor even billious breath brings to thee, Bill, a sound-dead fury.  SI.  Sea-sea.  C-SEED.  From what?  FROM THE COMPILATION OF THE UNSETTLED ACRONYM: MIZZUJ.  Acrononomous.  AUNT TRACKS OMINOUS SETTLEMENT AMID FLORIDA.  Election imperfection; the buds built into bombs.  USING SENTONITE AND BILICA!  Shh!  The bug of Lunia begs the air with petunias.  ARCHAIC DOCTRINE.  Living in caves.  HIDING BOOKS IN CAVES.  Madame Black Vat Sea.  GIVE HER A BREAK.  JUST BECAUSE SHE IS...  She has dour power.  BUT SHE CAN LAUGH.  I HAVE SEEN HER LAUGHING.  Twice toe night.  TO Y2K.  2YOUNG2CARE.  2YELTSIN2KREMLIN.  2YANKEES2KRISTIANSOLDIERS.  Mensuration Joins Christmas.  Messiah Joins Carpentium.  WHAT?  Eja Mater, fons amoris, Me sentire vim doloris Fac, ut tecum lugeam.  COUNT JOINS MICHAEL.  CHRISTIAN JOINS MATRIYEA.  Maitriyea of the dusty Moon Light, clear the goodess of Sin.  THE MOON IS STEADY AND SMALL BUT NEAR.  THE MOTHER OF REST.  THE MISTAKER OF THE GLORIOUS WRINKLE.  Mother of madness.  MOON OVER MAN.  Store bought matter.  HEAR THE MUSIC!  IS IT COMING FROM THE CHAPEL?  Angelic in its first name.  WHAT IS ITS FIRST NAME?  Power.  Will.  Design.  AND THEN?  Wisdom is the Mother's milk of kindness.  TEAT A TETE, YOU MEAN?   The Spirit of the Magician is the ONE (Aleph). It is by the dynamic current of the Spirit (Aleph) that the Magician (Beth) accomplishes the essential and inevitable task of informing the Wheel of the Universe (Kaph) with His Word, creating Change in accordance with His Will, establishing a New Universe.  KAPH IS DALETH, CONCEALING YOD.  The palm of the hand.  ARE WE TALKING SPILLING SEEDS?  Master Nation Battalion.  WHO IS THE SPIRIT OF THE MAGICIAN THEN?  We know who the Magician is.  But who is the spirit behind the Magician?  DON'T LOOK, THE OLD WOMAN IS SMILING.  Look at her hand!  She's holding a string or something!  NINE.  NINE.  Eighteen.  NINETY NINE.  Master Battalian Nation.  ONAN O'RIEN.  Multiplicity's sake.  A JAPANESE DRINK FOR THE OLD MAN.  SOMETHING TO SHRED THE SEPTENARY SILK.  IN SEVEN STRINGS.  In Hebrew, the word for 'name' is shem, two Hebrew letters, 'shin-mem', which are rich in associations and meanings.  The Hebrew root of the word 'shem' is 'sham', which means 'yonder'.  To have a name, to bear a name, is to be born 'beyond' oneself, to become part of a movement of transcendence, of moving beyond oneself, of projection.  In this sense, to have a name is literally 'to exist' in the etymological sense of 'maintaining oneself outside', outside any content one can give oneself.  At birth, each human being has the potential of two dimensions, a 'being here' and a 'being there'.  The 'being here' is the passive situation of birth in which I am here without ever having arrived here, expired in myself like a debt that I never incurred.  This is the 'here' of failure into which I find myself hurled, the heritage of my ancestors, of destiny.  The opposite of 'being here' is 'being threre', that is the 'sham' and the 'shem', the 'NAME'.  To be a man means to be at....to be there, 'sham': that is to say, to be within a project, in an opening to the future.  The 'over there' of the 'name' makes it possible to escape the destiny of a life that has already been written, already imprinted.  Through the name as a project, life becomes an adventure....  Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav was quite right in saying 'Never ask the way from someone who knows it, because then you cannot get lost.'  The art of bearing a name means that one then has the capacity to bear oneself, , to be transported, to become a 'metaphor' for oneself in the etymological sense of the world, which means 'to carry beyond'.  The name is not a sound capsule that covers an individual in order to enclose him in a definitive identiy, but quie the opposite: the name in the human being is the set of forces that cause him to invent, in an infinite process of bieng and of 'unbeing', of identification and of 'de-identification', of meaning and 'un-meaning' of self.  One can, thus, speak not of a peresonal identity, but of a dialectic of personal identity that oscillates between the samness of self and the otherness of self.  Bearing a name is bearing oneself towaard one's name.  If the name is given at birth, that is because it has the task of constantly reminding us that we must be born and re-born an infinnite number of times.  The name one receives a birth is a formidable gift, that of bearing within oneself the memory of the very moment of such birth.  The art of bearing a name is to feel this event of birth, which is always with us.  The name is a 'memorial of childhood', part of the infant being born, which is born within oneself like a gift, the gift of existence itself.  Living is trying to inhabit one's name, to hear the vibrations of the letter of which it consists, to see the liberty of signs in deleted memory, to feel the libration of images that have known the power of their origins and the hesitation of the Beginning.  The archaeography of the name makes it possible to analyze the existential potential and horizons of a human being.  Obviously, it is not a case of revealing th truth or the secrets of an individual, but only of updating his internal dynamic, which exists or may exist on the basis of the forces of meaning at work in the memory of each on the basis of the forces of meaning at work in the memory of each of the letters of which the name consists.  It should be noted and stressed than an archeographic analysis has a structural or rather a re-structural vocation, one of dynamization and re-dynamization, but never of destructuring or of blocking the existential dynamic.  Each name, the very act of bearing a name, is already an extremely positive and enriching event.  Only the fact of not being able to be called by a name contains an element of trauma.  In other words, each letter possesses one of two meanings that can never be negative.  Each letter is a structuring and positive function.  There is no good or bad in letters; the alphabet does not belong to the world of morals.  It is the relationship between the human being and the letter, the human being in the sense of the letter that may or may not be assumed.   AMEN.  In Hebrew gematria, the words 'book' and 'name' have the same numberic value, 340. 

 

                                   

 

O Mighty Prince of the Heavenly Hosts, St. Michael, we beg you to protect and defend us in our struggles against the everyday temptations in this world. Help us to overcome all evils and strengthen us, that we may declare our faith in and loyalty to the Most High so that together with all the angels and saints in heaven we may glorify the Lord. St. Michael, please intercede for us together with the Blessed Virgin Mary, and obtain for us peace, love, justice and prosperity.  Present to God the Father all these petitions through Jesus Christ our Lord together with the Holy Spirit forever and ever. AMEN.  Pro peccatis suae gentis Vidit Jesum in tormentis, Et flagellis subditum.  Vidit suum dulcem natum Morientem desolatum Dum emisit spiritum.  A NAME BY ANY OTHER NAME IS NOT A NAME.

 

                       

 

Look how fast that man can draw!  HE'LL BE RUNNING OUT OF SNOW BEFORE IT'S TIME TO GO!  A bell is tolling.  Tell me its name.  A NAME, A NAME.  A DOOR BEYOND THE PRESENT GAME.  A NAME, A NAME.  IMPLORING ALWAYS THE SHORE BEYOND THIS DAY'S FRAME.  The old woman has told us that a name is a destiny.  HARK, HARK, THE SEASON'S DARK.  THE HOLOCAUST I SMELL PROPELS ME BACK IN MIND TO SIN'S BLACK SHRINE.  Craving for some temperament of joy.  CODE TO JOY?  Boding flares and flares' precise escalation of cloy.  WHO IS BOMBING THE CITY?  What?  IT SMELLS LIKE A CREOLE FEAST IN THE DOWNTOWN CANYON.  Spastic canyon; plastic onion.  Apple's here; and apple's gone.  DRINK UP, DREAMERS; YOU'RE RUNNING DRY.  Of course, he'll have to be arrested.   WHO?  CROSSMANN?  Well, there is that bit with the young girl.  ANY MAN WOULDN HAVE DONE IT.  And he's been thieving whole reams of words here, tracts of other scribes, bending them and twisting them into his form.  TATAG THE WEAVER, WEAVING A KIND OF CLOTH.  Montage J. Crossmann.  MICHAEL J. COLLAGE.  Michaelarceny J. Crossmann.  AND HIS SLANDER OF MANY HISTORICAL FIGURES: OPRAH, BILL CLINTON.  THERE WILL HAVE TO BE SOME KIND OF RESTITUTION FOR THIS WILD ESCAPADE.  No, not Crossmann.  I'm talking about the semite.  OH.  Fuhrermars.  YES.  Truman's friend.  YES.  Arrested, why?  BECAUSE OF WHAT HE'S DONE.  What has he done?  YOU HEARD WHAT HE SAID: KILL JEWS AND AMERICANS WHEREVER YOU FIND THEM.  Freedom of speech.  A MAN CAN SPEAK HIS MIND, CAN'T HE?  He's armed and dangerous in that other room.  FOR ALL WE KNOW HE MIGHT BE A TERRORIST -- MAYBE EVEN A FANATIC.  Why does Crossmann surround himself with Jews?  WHAT?  I know you're a Jew; but look at all of them.  Ginsberg, Frank.  Truman.  And Charlie -- is his real name Rose, or Rosenberg?  And that Magician -- is he a Russian Jew?  And the old Russian woman -- she looks Jewish to me.  CROSSMANN MIGHT BE A JEW HIMSELF.  What does that have to do with anything?  EXEMPLAR TEMPLAR.  THAT'S WHAT THEY SAY.  The Greeks displaced Hetia, the goddes of hearth, home and children, breaking their perfect circle of twelve, to insert Dionysius, the god of wine, sexuality and dance.  That is, of madness.  WHAT HAS THAT TO DO WITH THE FAMILIAR EXEMPLAR TEMPLAR?  Quis non passset contristari, Piam Matrem contemplari Dolentem cum Filio?  THERE IS A TEAR IN CROSSMANN'S EYE!  What?  LOOK!  Yes, I see it!  IS IT A TEAR FOR HUMANITY?  Peter Piper Pecked a Pecker's Pious Pied Properly, Petty Privateer.  PUBICLY 'PROPRIATE, PENELOPE OF PENIS.  The home, the country, invaded by suitors -- as Odysseus seeks God on his journey on the inside.  That is the definition of the darkness to which the Soul is attracted.  YES.  Penelope waits for the man's return, to save her country, her house, from the invaders who have o'ertaken her, rendered her a captive.  YES.  Who is that singing.  IT IS NOT ANDREAS SCHOLL!  Nein.  Ooder brooder.  WHO THEN?  Shh, listen.  LOOK TO FIND THE LIPS THAT MOVE!   When the night shows, the signals grow on radios.  All the strange things, they come and go, as early warnings.  Stranded starfish have no place to hide.  Still waiting for the swollen easter tide.  There's no point in direction; we cannot even choose a side.  Took the old trek, the hollow shoulder, across the waters; on the tall cliffs, they were getting older, sons and daughters.  The jaded underworld was riding high; waves of steel hurled metal at the sky.  And as the nail sunk in the cloud, the rain was warm and sowed a crowd.  Lord, here comes the Flood.  We will say goodbye to flesh and blood.  If again the seas are silent and any still alive, it will be those who gave their island to survive.  Drink up, Dreamers, you're running dry.  When the flood calls, you have no ome, you have no walls.  In that thunder crash, you're a thousand miles within a flash.  Don't be afraid to cry at what you see.  The actor's gone; there's only you and me.  And if we break before the dawn they'll use up what we used to be.  Lord here comes the flood.  We will say goodbye to flesh and blood.  If again the seas are silent and any still alive.  It'll be those who gave their island to survive.  Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry.  YOU'RE RUNNING DRY.  I'm running dry.  IT IS GETTING LATE.  Apocalypse.  YES.  Who has such a sad English voice on a cold night such as this?  PETER SHOULD KNOW.  What?  YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS VOICE -- AN ANGEL SACRED TO THE ARABS.  Please.  Do not drive me into distraction.  YOU SPEAK AS THOUGH THIS PLACE EXISTED -- THIS PLACE CALLED DISTRACTION.  Twenty-two paths become twenty-six.  And so easily.  I admire your craft.  Or, perhaps I should say, your craftiness.  NEVER COMB YOUR HAIR AND PICK YOUR TEETH AT THE SAME TIME.  The liberal intellectuals are the stranded starfish -- waiting for the swollen Easter-tide to again hide them.  From apocalypse.  YES.  Us.  YES.  Them.  YES.  I can smell the barbarians on the border.  YES.  AND THEY ARE NOT US.  Words blister your brain in a way that numbers never do.  CHANGING THE SUBJECT?  Introducing the digit.  THE BIG UNIT?  Yes.  Did you watch me take a leek?  AT DINNER?  Yes.  STILL THE VEGETABLE THIEF -- YES, MY FRIEND?  You confuse me.  NUMBER COMES FIRST, FROM NATURE'S BASIN.  NUMBER FIRST; AND LETTER FROM THE SILENT BRAIN.  Sounds, motion, number.  ONLY LATER DO SOUNDS GAIN A BODY: THE LETTER.  Yes.  SOMEONE'S SLEEPING OVER THERE.  The lawyer is the first to go, the first to fall asleep.  YES.  SO APPROPRIATE.  And who will be thee next?  WHO WILL BE LAST?  The old woman.  For she is a spirit, long dead, returning now but to guide our friendly craver.  KHOBAR, CROWBAR: DEATH TO THE JEW!  Shut up, rag-head!  SOMEONE OUGHT TO SHUT HIM UP FOR GOOD!  Damn bigot!  IF I WASN'T SO DRUNK I WOULD SMASH HIS TEETH DOWN HIS THROAT!  Yes sir, I'll.... yes, siree!  SHUT UP, YOU ARAB RAT BASTARD!  Ramsey Yusef!  STICK A RAG DOWN YOUR THROAT AND CHUCKLE!  Gentlemen!  Please!  Is this the best behavior you can manage?  AT SUCH A SACRED MOMENT!  Yes.  PLEASE FORGIVE US.  WE ARE NOT RELIGIOUS MEN, AT HEART.  WE ARE SKEPTICS.  AND WE ARE DAMNED ANGRY AT THAT OBNOXIOUS CRETIN IN THERE.  YOU'LL HAVE TO FORGIVE US.  AND IT'S DAMNED COLD OUT HERE.  WE'RE SITTING IN THE SNOW FOR SOME REASON.  I'M NOT SURE WHY WE WANT TO BE OUT HERE INSTEAD OF INSIDE.  I THINK WE SHOULD THROW THE AYATOLLAH OUT HERE IN THE COLD; AND RUSH THE CABIN IN THERE TO FIND SOME WARMTH.  You can go in if you like.  YES.  BUT NOT UNTIL EVERYONE ELSE DOES.  Why?  WHY ARE WE BEING SO STUBBORN?  I DON'T KNOW.  I GUESS WE'RE AFRAID WE'LL OFFEND HIM.  Him?  YES, HIM -- CROSSMANN.  Why does that matter so much to you?  I GUESS WE CARE WHAT HE THINKS OF US.  So he is more to you that a writer?  WHAT?  He is more to you than just a writer?  WELL, YES, I GUESS HE IS.  HE IS NOW.  WE'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT TOGETHER NOW.   You see.  He has gotten under your skin.  In his quiet way.  You are even ready to believe that he is some kind of savior.  THAT DEPENDS UPON THE MIRACLES.  IF IT IS PROVEN THAT HE REALLY CURED THE DAMNED OF THEIR ILLNESSES -- THEN, YES, PERHAPS.  BUT I WILL NEED TO SEE RATIONAL PROOF.  What do you know about triangular numbers?  WHAT?  Triangular numbers.  Between the numbers of one and ten.  I DON"T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.  SHOW ME!  DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!

 

                       

 

In the decad, one, three, six and ten are the triangular numbers.  Notice the sequence develops through a parallel serial additive of one.  One plus two equals three.  Three plus three equals six.  Six plus four equals ten.  ONE PLUS THREE IS FOUR PLUS SIX IS TEN PLUS TEN IS TWENTY.  That's not all.  There are also square numbers.  WHAT?  Yes, square numbers.  SHOW THEM TO ME.

 

                       

 

One, four and nine are the square numbers in the decad.  THERE ARE FOUR TRIANGULAR NUMBERS AND THREE SQUARE NUMBERS.  Notice the sequence develops through a parallel serial additive of two.  YES.  One plus four is nine and nine plus nine is eighteen.  THAT LEAVES THE NUMBERS 2, 5, 7 AND 8 AS NONDESCRIPT NUMBERS.  Perhaps they are not so nondescript as you might believe.  IN TERMS OF THE SQUARE AND THE TRIANGLE, I MEAN.  Well, yes.  HAVE YOU MORE MAGIC FOR US? 

 

                       

 

Add any consecutive Triangular Numbers together and these will return a Square Number.  I HAVE AN INKLING THAT SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT THE CREATION OF THE WORLD.  Transmutation.  And Transformation.  2 IS THE LINE; 5 IS THE PENTAGON; 7 IS THE HEPTAGON; AND 8 IS THE OCTAGON. 

 

 

                                               

 

 

Bent treaty.  BENT GENTRY.  Tarrow's clay maxim.  ELMER GANTRY'S BENT GENTLEMAN STICK.  Who is doing the talking?  WHOM DO YOU SUSPECT?  Eva, the Gardener.  More linen man road.  Perhaps ride a hay world, tucking up the clay part hither.  The bent stick, thinking of me.  MEN!  Land of terns near.  Jay and ants field.  Elves best tail lord.  Day null skull leave.  Sin deep crowd fort.  Pamper the Ombudsman.  BACK FURTHER.  Great shelty.  PREFERRING BLONDES.  DOGS ON PATROL.  Mad on ya'.  NO, REAL BLONDES.  TAKE A CLOSE LOOK AT HER TRIANGULAR NUMBERS.  A forest of forests: Nordic or Skordic.  OR MEDITOMORONIC?  Firenza.  FULL CAN ALLEY.  Leer at a young.....what?  SHE'S NOT BLONDE.  Dead bra care.  CAN OF AIR TO DREAM EVER.  Tip a head wren.  Die and sell antlers.  Rock kell whale ox.  BREST OF BERRY MAJORS.   Grace.  GRACE LACKING.  Grace lucking.  HAVE YOU ANOTHER?  Sofa lie o'er on.  Claw deals a card in alley.   Penny low pea crews.  Gnat alley word.  Bowed Erich.  Heave I'm airy saint.  Tea and car era.  Fade ton away.  Jewel leave a rob arts.  Jeans never load puss.  Arse sells a sand dress.  Brat pin a tar.  PIN A TAR ON THE DUN KEY.  And a corn of coven.  Pee ass adore her.  IN A BUBBLE BATH IN A WESTERN WAR.  Livian Vee.  Hallowed berry.  YES, BEST OF BERRY MINOR.  Have you said enough?  SEVENTY-TWO BLACK-EYED VIRGINS.  Now, have you said enough?  DIE AND SOIL HER.  Now?  I BELIEVE SO.  Only three numbers, Eye Sore, are both Triangle Numbers and Square Numbers: 1, 36 and 1225.

 

Triangle Numbers

1

 

2

3

 

3

6

 

4

10

 

5

15

 

6

21

 

7

28

 

8

36

 

9

45

 

10

55

 

11

66

 

12

78

 

13

91

 

14

105

 

15

120

 

16

136

 

17

153

 

18

171

 

19

190

 

20

210

 

21

231

 

22

253

 

23

276

 

24

300

 

25

325

 

26

351

 

27

378

 

28

406

 

29

435

 

30

465

 

31

496

 

32

528

 

33

561

 

34

595

 

35

630

 

36

666

 

37

703

 

38

741

 

39

780

 

40

820

 

41

861

 

42

903

 

43

946

 

44

990

 

45

1035

 

46

1081

 

47

1128

 

48

1176

 

49

1225

 

50

 

Square Numbers

1

 

3

4

 

5

9

 

7

16

 

9

25

 

11

36

 

13

49

 

15

64

 

17

81

 

19

100

 

21

121

 

23

144

 

25

169

 

27

196

 

29

225

 

31

256

 

33

289

 

35

324

 

37

361

 

39

400

 

41

441

 

43

484

 

45

529

 

47

576

 

49

625

 

51

676

 

53

729

 

55

784

 

57

841

 

59

900

 

61

961

 

63

1024

 

65

1089

 

67

1156

 

69

1225

 

71

 

ADD 1 AND GET 1.  ADD THE NUMBERS 1 THROUGH 8 AND GET 36.  ADD THE NUMBERS 1 THROUGH 49 AND GET 1225.  What does this mean to you: that a number could be both a Triangle Number and a Square Number?  ARE THESE THE ANDROGYNOUS NUMBERS, AZORE?  THE NUMBERS OF THE CENTRAL PILLAR?  Interesting speculation.  Specula speculorum.  THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY GHOST?

 

1

The Mystic Number of Kether

 

36

The Mystic Number of the Sun

 

70

a'a

The Ancient of Ancient Ones

400

Th

 

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

100

Q

 

 

 

 

1

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4

D

 

 

 

 

70

a'a

 

 

 

 

400

Th

 

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

100

Q

 

 

 

 

10

Y

 

 

 

 

50

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1225

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three persons in One.  THE CIRCLE IS THE SELF-EIXSTENT.  THE ZERO.  There is the circle, the abstract circle, without extenstion, empty, as it were, the cosmos prior to formation -- the empty egg.  There is the circle with the central point, one.  With equal extention, area; cyclical by nature.  Rotary motion.  Alone.  Self-contained.  One.

 

 

                                               

 

THE OM OF GIOTTO.  Yes.  O, TONIC.  Bridge at bare doe.  WHAT?  Gee, no lull at bridge of dawn.  NICKODEON FOR A DIME.  O quam tristis et allicta Fuit illa benedicta Mater unigeniti!  Quae moerebat, et dolebat, Et tremebat, dum videbat Nati poenas incliti.  WHO IS SNICKERING?  Gip Nital makes me laugh.  IT IS A BEAUTIFUL INVOCATION.  Naughty penis in cliti.  MORE SNICKERING.  You are drunk.  TRISTIS IS TRISTAM; AND TRISTAM IS DRUNK.  Naughty penis in cliti.  AYE.  Chat her in, cheetah joints.  AYE, MAN, I'LL SHOW YA HURRY.  I'LL SOW HER HERE, AYE.  The man with the magic glasses.  NUMBER TWO.  And who is number one?  DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO ASK THAT QUESTION?  Ancient peoples worshipped the Earth goddess until they connected conception with the man and with the sun.  Fefore, they believed women conceived arbitrarily.  That women were the creative force.  When it lateer became clear that women bore the inert egg which remained only a potential until men, the true creative force, gave to the egg fertility, then men gained in stature.  The earth holds seeds deep inside; but it is not until the sun returned that the earth became fertile.  YOU ARE SAYING THIS SHIFT TO PATRIARCHAL GODS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ALPHABET?  Yes.  The alphabet is merely discovered, when the light comes back on the mind.  THE GODDESS PANTHEON RULES THE NIGHT.  THE GOD PANTHEON RULES THE DAYLIGHT.  Whoever kills himself with an iron weapon, then the iron weapon will remain in his hand and he will continuously stab himself in his belly with it in the Fire of Hell eternally, forever and ever.  THE BARBARIANS GATHER AT THE GATE, PROCLAIMING THEMSELVES THE HANDMAIDS OF A GOD WHO APPEARS MORE TO ME TO BE THE DEVIL.  Give the man a foot!  The man of peace going north needs a foot!  EDIFICE WRECKS.  A MANY FESTED TOWER TURNS ON TOPE.  Taliban.  Banital.  MINE YOUR OWN BUSINESS, SIR.  OR WE'LL HAVE TO CUT YOUR THROAT.  EXECUTE YOU AS A SPY.  Aye.  THE JADED UNDERWORLD IS RIDING HIGH.  HURLING METAL PROJECTS THROUGH THE SKY.  Add bell hooks.  All numbers from One.  And Number One from No Number Zero.

 

                                   

 

Holy Mary, Mother of God.  JESUS THE FISH.  Pisces, the Placental Parent.  One is the Father; Two is the Mother.  These are the parents of numbers.  HIGH AND LOW.  NORTH AND SOUTH.  HIGHER ARK KEY.

 

                                               

 

East and West.  Turn the circle.

 

                                               

 

BUT WE ARE NOT AT THE NUMBER 4 YET, FRIEND.  Where are we?  I am getting lost.  WE ARE NOT AT THREE DIMENSIONS YET.  WE ARE AT THE DIMENSIONLESS.  FIRST, THE POINT.  SECOND, THE LINE.  THE POINT HAS NO DIMENSION.  THE LINE HAS ONE DIMENSION.  LENGTH.  The point is the first circle.  The line is the intersection of the centers of the two circles.  The first circle; and the second circle, which is the reflection, the twin, of the first circle.  The circle squeezed from out the rib of the first circle.  THE FIRST CIRCLE IS THE MAN; THE SECOND CIRCLE IS THE WOMAN.  The Universe; and the Anti-Universe.  YES, IN YOUR PHARASEEOLOGY. 

 

                                   

 

 

                                               

 

TURN THE WHEEL TO FOUR!

 

                                   

 

Look at that drawing!  It looks like the face of God!  HARRUMPH!  I think we should go inside.  It's late; and cold.  And I think the terrorist is asleep in there.  What do you say?  I SAY THE LAWYER, CLAUSE, IS ASLEEP OVER THERE.  WE SHOULD WAKE HIM BEFORE HE CATCHES PNEUMONIA.  I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS GEOMETRY ANYWAY.  What!  You don't care!  PLATO SAYS THAT GOD GEOMETRIZES.  He's trying to lead us back to our own source!  I'M COLD!  I'M OUT OF DRINK!  The cock has not crowed.  HAS NOT CROWED THE TRIAD CROW.  Peter Stuyvesant, close your eyes a sec'.  WATCHING ME FOR THE COLLIC BIRD' THIRD WORD.  Why?  DENY ME THEN?  Deny me then thrice?  ONCE SAID.  Twice said.  ONCE DEAD.  Twice bred.  THANK YOU, FRED.  SHALL WE GO INSIDE?  Do you think he'll notice?  DO YOU THINK SHE'LL NOTICE, YOU MEAN?  Well, there is that.  I DON'T LIKE HER LOOKING AT ME, NOT WITH THAT...NOT WITH THOSE CAT'S EYES SHE HAS.  You're afraid of the old woman!  SHE'S CREEPY, DON'T YOU THINK?  All in black, like we're at some kind of seance.  LOOKING LIKE JOHNNY CASH'S MOTHER.  Look she just nudged the lawyer with her foot.  SHE'S AWAKENED HIM!  What?  SHH!  What day is it?  SHH!  I dreamt that Michael Jordan was wearing a kind of gas mask.  It was some kind of commercial.  And his wife was helping him get of the mask.  But it wasn't a gas mask.  It was a water mask.  And his wife was turning the hose in to the mask at Michael Jordan's mouth.  Then she turned on the water and flooded his mouth.  She wanted to drown him.  SHH!  SHE'S LOOKING AT YOU!  Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael.

 

                                   

 

DON'T LET HIM DRAW IN THE SNOW SO MUCH.  HIS FINGER IS RED.  HE MAY HAVE FROSTBITE FOR ALL WE KNOW.  OR BLOOD.  Is he thinking about something nasty?  WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT?  The vesica picis is the almond-shaped womb through which all geometric forms are born.  THE WOMB OF CHAOS, YOU MEAN.  The Double-Womb, you are implying in your drawing.

 

                                   

 

DAMN MOSES IS READING FROM ANOTHER BOOK!  Mammary Oneidas.  LET ME DRAW SOMETHING IN THE SNOW!  No, not while she's watching. 

 

                                                1 + 1 is greater than 1 x 1

                                                2 + 2 equals 2 x 2

                                                3 + 3 is less than 3 x 3

                                                4 + 4 is less than 4 x 4 ....

 

THE ONE IS UNIQUE FOR A KIND OF INVERSION.  Kether in his claw-claw.  THE TWO IS ALSO UNIQUE, FOR ITS PERFECT BALANCE.  And then come all the forms, all the same: proper manifestations.  SHE'S LOOKING AWAY!  QUICK, MAKE YOUR DRAWING!  Of the Snow Woman.

 

                                   

 

OBSCENE FELLOW!  Quck, wipe it away!  A FAST HAND OF FROST.  Wiped by wonder.  AWAY.  HARDLY EXISTING.  You are getting childish now, Yoni Maloney!  SHE DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING!  Sister Mary Olive!  SISTER LUDAVINE!  Thoughts being manifestations of my own thoughts?  WHATEVER YOU SAY.  ARE YOU COLD YET?  ARE YOU TIRED YET?  NUMB AND DUMB; GOT A CRICK IN YOUR THUMB?  This fiasco drifts into ocssaif, oxidentally.  BIGOT!  Toe gib!  THE ONE IS THE SEED IN THE WOMB; AND THE TWO IS THE WOMB, FROM WHICH THE WORLD OF FORM, THE THREE, THE FOUR, THE ELEMENTALS EMERGE.  Elementals?  YES.  POINT, INTO LINE, INTO SURFACE, INTO DEPTH.  You have to show it; you can't just talk about it.  MY FINGER'S TURNING BLUE.  Better your finger than your tongue, Socrates.  PLAYED OATS CAME FIRST.  And that turned his lips blue?  WHO?  Sack of trees.  PITH AGORA, SIS.  OVER HERE, BEHIND THE TREE, NEAR THE PITA STALL.  ARE YOU GOING TO LET ME THEE IT?  Thee what?  The almond-shaped element, down below the naval fulcrum.  MOUNT ENVY NESS?  Hair on the silent stem.  Hair on the oily totem.  Four poles holding up the sky, turning a chair to screw a light-bulb in a socket.  SOCKET TREES?  And then what?  FOUR MEN WITH MISSIVE ERECTIONS?  They stay hard for only a time or two.  AND THEN THE SKY FALLS.  The sky being the tent that gets strung up above the Earth.  WHO IS THE FOURTH MAN STRUNG UP THEN?  Pet a gorl's ass, and you'll see numbers in your brain, as sure as stars form in sperm.  CAN YOU GET ME A COUPLE OF NUMBERS.  Poor staggerers.  PLATE DOLOROUSNESS.  Losing weight.  CONSPICUOUS CRETE TINT.  Soft thigh, smelling like saints.  A SMALL RIVER MADE IN THE GREEK SOIL SECTION, UNDER THE BRIDGE, NEAR THE AGORA MARKET.  SOMEONE'S SISTER MAKING A STREAM.  A SMALL HAND MOVING THE SKIRT UP, LOOKING AT CLEAN-SHAVEN ROSEBUD.  Forked tongue.  PATHIC GORE US; ALBERT SPOROUS.  Saint of the spoken underwear.  SISTER OF MINE; SISTER OF THINE.  The tender condition.  BULL BY THE COW.  Sister Mary Olive; Sister Agnes Claire.  CAN YOU HIDE AN OLIVE IN THERE?  WILL IT FIT?  Don't be silly.  PULLING UP HER PANTIES.  He lets her skirt drop again -- thrilled by the tiny cavern.  YONI ANDERSON.  Yoni Mitchell.  YONETTI FUNICELLO.  Ad hoc as always; getting a bullet in the brain.  For his trouble.  Mortal sin, and all.  Three hail mary's; three our father's.  SOUTHERN DALLIANCE.  Down below the belt.  ONE, TWO: BUCKLE YOUR SHOE.  Three, four: what comes out the door?  CHILD OF MY DREAMS.  THREE POINTS.  CALL HIM TRIAD.  Giving birth to other forms.  DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON A GREEK PHILOSOPHER, SON.  INSTEAD OF TRIAD, THEY'LL BE CALLING YOU BRIGHT ASS!  Watch your mouth!  YES, ALSO WATCH YOUR MOUTH!  INSTEAD OF TRIAD, THEY'LL BE CALLING YOU PRIED LAD!  Surface to surface to sure face becomes.  GENERATOR OF TRIANGLES, MISTER HONEYCOMB.  One, two, three: draw! 

 

 

DONE!  My!  HECATE'S FRAGMENTARY STRAW.  The three faces of Eve.  LILITH"S PRELIMINARY DRAW.  The three articles of ex-tenuation.  AYE, SPINDLE-MAKER ONE.  Single spindle.  Double spindle.  THE TEN FACES OF 'ACTS'.  X-acto knife to the throat, Mister Grievance.  I see.  OPEN SEE SAME MAY.  The door.  THE VULVA PISSICULAE.  Father-Mother-Son.  FATHER-SON-HOLY GHOST.  Sell division.  THE ONE CANNOT BE KNOWN.  THE ONE MULTIPLIED BY ANY NUMBER REMAINS THAT NUMBER; NEVER BECOMES ONE.  THE ONE CANNOT BE KNOWN.  The One is known by its offspring, its manifestation.  Its son.  The number three.  SPLAYED TOE SAYS: SURFACE IS COMPOSED OF TRIANGLES.  Point, Line, Surface, Depth.  DIMENSION.  He's drunk.  His plays on words are...mundane, at best.  Splayed Toe!  Are you serious?  YES.  SERIOUSLY DRUNK.  Who is speaking, anyway.  I hear my own voice some times.  I don't feel my own lips moving.  I think there is some magician in this group who is using us all like manikens for some reason.  Remember the movie Magic, with Anthony Hopkins?  It's like that.  Someone is using us like puppets.  There is only one voice creating everything in here.  One voice.  One mind.  One mind split into two parts.  High and Low English.  We are all like puppets on fingers.  We are coming to nothing.  Saying much; but being little.  Freezing silently.  Believing that this is real.  IT IS NOT REAL?  He's drawing again!

 

                                   

 

THE TRINITY IN NATURE.  Yes, you speak about this.  AND HE DRAWS ABOUT IT.  Yes.  BUT DO WE KNOW ABOUT REAL SIGNIFICANCE?  Of what?  SEE, THAT IS MY POINT.  EXACTAMUNDO!  Can we know this?  I KNOW THAT THERE IS ASH FALLING DOWN FROM THE SKY.  HUMAN FLESH TORCHED AND BECOMING GREY SMOKE.  Bergen-Belsen.  AND BECOMING FLAKY GREY SNOW.  Treblinka.  FLAKY GREY SMALLPOX PORTIONS OF SKIN BLANKETS.  Off-Switch.  FOR ME?  Off-switch.  Switch-off.  SNAKE MUSIC.  COMING OUT OF A SHORT PIPE.  LIKE SMOKE.  MARYJANE  MAGICPIPE.  Magic Bus.  Magic Bust.  FURTHER.  FURTHR.  Light and color are not the same.  BURY THE PRANKSTER.  Light and color are not the same. 

 

                                               

 

THERE ARE THREE COLORS, THREE PRIMARY PIGMENTS.  Why are we going there?  It is freezing out here.  Is this prayer, sir?  PERHAPS NOT.  Knowlege of God.  Knowlege of Nature is knowlege of God.  FIRST TRIANGLE.

 

                                               

 

SECOND TRIANGLE.  Solomon's Nature.  HIGH AND LOW.  The triangle reflects itself in the pool of matter.  Thle union of the two triads gives birth to the hexagram.

 

                                   

 

AHH, GEOMETRY AGAIN.  YOU ARE COMING BACK AGAIN AND AGAIN TO GEOMETRY.  DIDN'T YOU GET ENOUGH OF THIS IN HIGH SCHOOL?  They can drop a two-ton missile on the head of a Muslim terrorist from 30,000 miles away.  AHH, MUHAMMED ATEF.  Goodandtight.  Don't catch a cold out here, now.  GEOMETRY DOES ALL THAT?  Well, certainly.  Geometry is science.  I SEE.  But that is not the geometry we are seeking tonight -- the geometry to drop bombs on the heads of Islamic terrorists.  We are seeking, in Geometry, tonight, the essential character of existence.  The nature of primary forms: thoughts crystallized into form.  YES.  And what has Light to do with this?  And color?  YOU GUYS ARE GETTING A BIT OFF THE POINT, AREN'T YOU?  What?  IF YOU WERE TO LISTEN MORE THAN TALK, YOU MIGHT WARM YOURSELF A BIT FROM THE FIRE OF INSIGHT.  Was that an insult just hurled at us from across the prayer-rug?  I THINK YOU COULD TAKE IT AS SUCH.  I'm going inside.  This is not a garden; clearly, however, it has become agony.  ONE GONE.  Man of law.  DO YOU WANT TO FOLLOW HIM?  I think we must.  EXODUS.  Hands like sticks.  DOOR OPENING.  Four blind mice.  AIRHOLE.  SOMONE IS BLOCKING THE AIRHOLE.  Inside with the madman.  GENESIS.  No, please, not that far back!  CREEK.  Wooden wedge wedges wood wider.  Brass collar.  Warm air.  Widening the gap between spirit and soul.  SNIDE EAR.  OH, WHERE ARE THEY GOING?  Perpetuating themselves ever inward.  WHAT?  Inside to sleep.  PRESSED OLIVES.  Inside to creep, to weep, to become sheep.  All his tears grow.  LYING DOWN WITH THE LION.  The Zero never leaves.  The One is the whole; the Two is the Womb born from the One; the Three is the balance, good fortune, the son.  The first form.  THE TRIANGLE PERPETUATES ITSELF EVER INWARD.

 

 

16 Triangles.  16 candles.  ONE, THREE, FIVE, SEVEN.  First was the Neutron Star.  The neutron decayed in to two particles.  The Monad became the Duad.  Hydrogen was born.

 

                                               

 

THE DUAD BECAME THE TRIAD.  THE ATOM BECAME THE ELEMENT OF THREE PARTS: PROTON, ELECTRON AND CAPTURED NEUTRON.

 

                                   

 

The atom, too, is all about geometry.  THE SURFACE OF THE ATOM IS ALL ABOUT THE TRIANGLE EXTENDED.  Perpetuating itself every inward.  BECOMING THE FOUR.  THE MOTHER OF FORM.

 

 

Three points define a flat surface; and a fourth defines depth.  Depth, in nature, becomes volume -- that is, three-dimensional space.  FOUR.  THE TETRAD.  The principles of the Tetrad are born as shapes through the vesica piscis, the abstract womb of nature.  THE MOTHER.  Four.  THE CUBE.  Triplets, in fact.  The Tetrahedron, the Square, and the Cube.

 

           

 

TRIPLETS.  Shemoi, you have not spoken.  WE ARE FOUR LESS THAN WE WERE BEFORE.  Five.  SIX.  Yes.  LESS.  Yess.  SHOIME, YOU HAVE NO TOKEN.  Resolving the ecliptic in the man's soul with the.  SIPHYLITIC IN THE MAN'S BOWEL.  Ginzy is still here, I guess.  Who else would be speaking like that?  ABU NIDAL?  Indeed.  DIDN'T HE WORK AS A VALET, PARKING CARS HERE IN NEW YORK, FAMOUS FOR BOILED OIL, OR BODY ORNAMENTS, OR BLATANT OBSCENITIES OR SOMETHING.  No, he was a famous poet.  A BEAT -- YOU REMEMBER.  Beating meet.  Fellowing Arab boys in his shumbacher, you know.  Stiff and wet white.  WHY IS HE STILL HERE?  WE GAVE HIM HIS AIR-TIME, DIDN'T WE?  WE LISTENED TO HIS HOWLING ACROSS THE PAGES OF HIS DIRTY T-SHIRT, SWEAT-STAINED AS HE WAS, HARBORING LUST IMAGES OF OLD JACK BIVOUAC IN CLAY.  Harmony undoes everything.  SURETY ENFEEBLES.  Poor Moishe has been gone.  I sensed some kind of smell coming back in.  DEATH GAS.  Hydrogen Helium Hanseatic Hypnotist.  HE HE.  YOD VAU.  Let him appear agian.  WHO?  Yark Vark?  WHO?  Moishe.  Moist she of the desert.  INSTEAD OF ALAN OF THE PALINDROME.  Madam, I'm Adam.  MADAM, I'M....RADAR.  Radar O'Reilly.  HAVE ANOTHER DRINK, IRISH HSIRI.  The literary men have all left the room, I see.  EXCEPT FOR THINE OWN EXTINCTION.  Pardon?  SMART ALLICS.  Flower baby.  PURPLE PARAMOUR.  I thought those guys had left.  SHY DINER.  Rub the lamp -- like you've rubbed your own.  Fire by friction.  Sparks loaded with high-heeled boy; sirrah.  WHICH LAMP?  Lamp poon, is dat wat yu mean?  SILENT JIM.  STOIC.  WATCHING.  A MAN ABOUT TO CRY.  Moishe, Moishe, over and under.  Moishe, Moishe, send robed Pierre ass-under.  UNDER TRAY AND UNDER UDDER'S DAY.  Pray for thy waking.  OLD MAN THOR(PE) ABOUT TO BEAT THE BRAINS OF HIS CHILDREN WITH BATS.  Nose for a few.  NOSE GAY FOR THE PEW.  Ark heavy and candy-dappled.  CADMUS GIVES US A MAN FOR THE MADNESS.  Far from the madding cloud.  GINZY, GINZY, WHERE'D YOU GET THOSE PINCE NEZZIES.  GINZY, GINZY -- WHERE'D YOU GET THOSE DYES?  Tide eyed.  And waxing.  DOLLY'S FLAXED MUSSED STACHES.  Ahhh, Dolly's rounding pleasant portions.  PART ONCE; GET A HARD OUNCE.  Your belly's showing.  Stop looking for lint.  MOIST SHE'S A' COMIN' OUT.  Ecks or cist?  FATHER, YOU WOULDN'T FORESAKE AN OLD ALTAR BOY, WOULD YOU?  A knee bree ated.  DROP A PENNY ON A SKINNY PENCILED FINGER, FATHER.  Nice.  STERLING, CURLING.  ICE IS PRICEY.  Luck is a straight line under a triangle on your head.  Under her belly is some jelly, round robing, mostly cheese.  MOIST SHE is an anagram for....deb rouse.  MOUSE LINEN.  Rose bad.  BARD OSE.  Bridge at Bar Doze.  SIN DAPPLER'S LISP.  Ozama Domingo.  Rio Rozo Recidivism.  I BEEN LADENED WITH VIGOR.  OBLONG STROKES WILL RENDER HIM CORN HUSK OF WONDER.  Oh, sea May.  Ank frayed.  MAY THE LORD HAVE MERCY.  Russband Hussbound.  Bed soure.  EVOKE HIS SPIRIT NOW, THE MAN WITH THE BOOK.  Hold the tetrahedon and rotate it.  It appears similar from every direction.  THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.  The tetrahedon is the only three-dimensional shape whose corners are the same distance from each other.  THIS MEANS SOMETHING.  Other than the circle, the universe doesn't allow any volume to have fewer than four corners or faces.  AHH, THE FOUR.  YES, JOYCE'S FOUR MEN.  THE FOUR MEN OF THE GOSPELS.  Of all structures, the three-dimensional shape is the most spare.  Space is dessicated to a minimum volume.  While the sphere encloses the most space in the least surface area, the tetrahedron encloses the least volume with the greatest relative surface area.  Being the minimal solid, it is the strongest and most stable.

 

                                               

 

UNDERSTAND THAT THE UNITY IN THE NUMBERS ONE, TWO AND THREE IS NOT REPEATED IN ANY OTHER CONTINGUOUS NUMBERS.

 

 0 + 1 + 2 =

3

0

 = 2 x 1 x 0

 1 + 2 + 3 =

6

6

 = 3 x 2 x 1

2 + 3 + 4 =

9

24

 = 4 x 3 x 2

 3 + 4 + 5 =

12

60

 = 5 x 4 x 3

 . . . .

 

 

 

 

Understand the symbolism in the number.  When a negative number weds a positive number, the result is negative.  When two negative numbers wed, the result is positive.  When two positive numbers wed, the result is, again, positive.  BY MARRIAGE YOU MEAN....MULTIPLICATION.  Yes.  And the same is true of division, or divorce.  BUT WHEN YOU SPEAK OF ALLIANCES, OR FRIENDSHIPS, THE OPPOSITE IS TRUE.  TWO NEGATIVE NUMBERS, ADDED TO ONE ANOTHER, INCREASE THE POWER OF THE NEGATIVE.  AND WHEN A NEGATIVE NUMBER AND A POSITIVE NUMBER MEET IN BATTLE, THE LARGER NUMBER WINS THE SKIRMISH.  There is something philosophical in this.  WITHOUT A DOUBT.  Do you notice how there voices are still here, even though they have stepped back inside the chapel?  DETAILS, ME BOY!  DETAILS!    God is in the details, sir.  VOICES TRAVEL FURTHER BY NIGHT.  Yes.  ONE, TWO AND THREE ARE, IN FACT, A UNITY.  A TRINITY OF VALUES.  THREE, IN FACT, IS 1 AND 1 AND 1.  I see.  EVEN AS 4 IS THE FIRST NUMBER FORMED FROM THE ADDITION AND MULTIPLICATION OF EQUALS.

 

 2 + 2 =

4

4

 = 2 x 2

 

THE GREEKS CONSIDERED 4 THE FIRST EVEN NUMBER AND THE FIRST FEMALE NUMBER.  THE EVEN NUMBERS, OF COURSE, WERE CONSIDERED FEMININE; AND THE ODD NUMBERS WERE CONSIDERED MASCULINE.  Most she but part he...speaks.  SPEAKS AMID SPOKES.  The tetrahedron commonly occurs in organic and inorganic chemistry and in the world's submicroscopic structures.  Its geometry frames the architecture of many elementary molecules, including methane (CH4), ethane (C2H6), and ammonium (NH4), the basis of amino acids, the building blocks of life.

 

                                               

 

 

                                               

 

                                               

 

In each of these three molecules, a carbon or nitrogen atom sits at the center of a tetrahedron at whose four corners are smaller hydrogen atoms.  The similar charges of hydrogen atoms' electron pairs cause them to move as far as they are able from each other.  The result is a tetrahedron, the only three-dimensional shape whose every corner is the same distance from every other corner.  Substances may be composed of identical atoms whose different geometric configurations give them different charactistics and properties. 

 

 

                                               

 

 

Glass and quartz, for example, are both composed of sand, silicon dioxide (SiO2).  Glass is brittle and transmits visible light while blocking ultraviolet rays.  The unstructured molecules of glass flow as a liquid, in fact, the oldest synthetic polymer, is not considered solid but a supercooled liquid flowing slowly over decades.  But the same SiO2 molecules in quartz link so that every silicon atom is at the center of a tetrahedron with oxygen atoms at its four corners.  Its extended tripod structures makes quartz a hard crystal, which, like glass, transmits light, including ultraviolet frequencies.  However, quartz is not as hard as diamond, the world's hardest naturally occurring substance and best conductor of heat.  The diamond is also structured as a tetrahedral network, but only of carbon atoms, each of which sits at the center of a tetrahedron having four other carbon atoms at its corners.  Because the energy bonds between the atoms are so short and strong, lying along the edges of a minimal tetrahedron, a diamond is firm and difficult to cut.  But diamond cutters know how to overcome its hardness by slicing along the tetrahedral faces.  With the Tetrad comes volume and structure.

 

                                   

 

 

                                   

 

SQUARES AND CROSSES ARE METAPHORS OF OUR WANDERINGS THROUGH THE EARTH, SYMBOLICALLY WITHIN OURSELF, AND OUR PATH OF TRANSCENDENCE.  So, is that what this 'Cross Examination' is all about?  THE LABYRINTH OF OUR OWN NATURE? 

 

                                               

 

Is that a trick question?  UNDOUBTEDLY, IT IS.  How many visitors do we have out here now?  I SAW SEVERAL PASS AWAY IN THE STRANGE DOORWAY.   What you seem to be saying is that the first-born were the elementals: the point, the line, the surface, and the volume.  This Fourth, Volume, became matter as we know it, the Female Element, from which geometry was born, geometry being the essential nature of all things in nature, beginning with the elemental forms of Nature herself, the atom and the molecules.  IS IT NOT CLEAR WHAT HE IS SAYING?  It seems to be.  THE DUAD, THE BIRTH OF TROUBLE, WAS HYDROGEN.  And the Triad, the birth of balance, and good fortune, was Helium.  IS THAT THE ESSENCE OF YOUR BELIEF?  Essence?  Belief?  I am a scientist, man.   I have no belief.  I believe not even in an essence.  I believe only in the manifestation of God's thoughts, number taking a body in the form of geometry, the Tetrad being one of three forms of three-dimensional space.  AUNT THRAX, AUNT THRACE, AUNT OTTALIE LUNDGREN, AND THAT PRETTY BEARCAT DOCTOR OF HERS WITH THE TRANSATLANTIC FACE, COMELY ENOUGH TO SILENCE CRITICS FOR A MOMENT.  A death can do that.  THE DEATH OF SOMEONE'S GRANDMOTHER.  Aunt Thrax, Aunt Thrace, Hide your face, wash your krax.  DEATH IS RUMBLING OVER THE SEAS AGAIN.  Death is riding on a stamp and in a letter.  ELL.  The letter of loss.  BE FRANK, TOMMY.  BE STRAWNG, JACK.  BEAN STOCK STRIKERS IN THE SANDS OF KANDAHAR.  Makes the tall banners eat dust and the words of their dusty epidemic.  TAIL BANNERS.  Eating iron.  IRON CROSS.  News sewn.  CAT RE.  Head to toe.  MUSLIN GAGGING MUSSELMEN.  Muscle women.  YES, THAT TOO.  Perlandra.  ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR: CATCH A....NEGOTIATOR BY THE TOE.  IF HE HOLLARS, MAKE HIM PAY.  FIFTY DOLLARS EVERY DAY.  Parsely?  BECAUSE.  Friend checker.  FRENCH HOOKER.  Parse a queer and find a....dominant mother standing over him with a sword of words.  A WORD OF SWORDS.  A sward of warts.  A SWARTHY SEWER.  A sewer of sweaty seaward wards.  WOMB OF WORRY.  Two Four.  Four Two.  EQUALS SIX.  Sex?  SIX.  Sex hex.  AIDA.  Aye, Eden.  A LOVELY PLACE.  A place to rest, hidden in the cavern.  OF LOVE.  Water love.  WET AND WILD.  Whiskers widening.  A HOLE THAT IS NOT A HOLE.  Yes.  THE SON OF GOD CAN BE TEMPTED BY THE WILEY WAYS OF WOMEN.  Wiley Coyote.  OATY EMPHASIS OF THE BRAN.  Wind blowing.  SEEDS CARRIED BY THE FOUR WINDS, THE WINDS WHO ARE GUARDIANS OF THE WORLD.  The Winds, yes.  FOUR WINDS.  Yes.  COLD FROM THE NORTH; STORMS AND RAIN FROM THE EAST; HEAT FROM THE SOUTH; SUMMER WEATHER FROM THE WEST.  Four old men.

 

                                               

 

SECRET IS AS SECRET DOES.  Aunt Thrace; Aunt Thebes.  AYE.  Construct the square using your clitian measure.  MY WHAT?  De jure lucid methog.  WHAT?  You clod!  REMEMBER THE VESICA PISCIS IS THE VIRGIN!  From which from whom from witch the Christ child is born, number 3, out of 2.  CONSTRUCTING 4 FROM 3.  Constructing 4 from 1 and 2.  THREE IS IMPLIED.  Methog and Gegog.  MATH AND GEOGRAPHY, TOGETHER, MAKE GEOMETRY.  Egrog!  The grace of Gog.  THE SQUARE OF THE SQUARE IS, OF COURSE, 16.  THIS IS ONE OF OUR LORD, MICHAEL CROSSMANN'S, NUMBERS.  Aye.  EYE SORE.  Aye man; yes man.

 

 

                       

 

NAY.  NOT EYE.  Eyeman all's a weird hurry now.  DECOMPOSE THE SQUARE!  SEND IT BACK INSIDE ON ITSELF!  DRAW IT IN THE SNOW!

 

 

 

See how the plus sign (+) and the multiplication sign (x) are related to the four.  AND HOW THE MINUS SIGN (-) AND THE DIVISION SIGN (\) ARE EXACTLY ONE-HALF OF THEIR POSITIVE COUNTERPARTS.

 

                                   

 

By deduction, one would understand that the negative nature is one-half the positive nature.  That is, the negative nature is incomplete.  Divided.  Alienated from the whole.  The whole being, in this case, the positive world.  Notice that the minus is the horizontal arm of the cross (the anthopogenic); and that the divisor is the left-hand path, coming out of the northwest running into the southeast.  DOES THIS MEAN SOMETHING?  Don't forget: everything means something here.  FINE IDEA.  Boney day.  WE ARE WANADERING IN SOME LABYRINTH -- SOME DREAM.  OUTSIDE, IT IS NOT VERY NICE.  Inside.  SOMEONE IS DREAMING.  I see.  THERE ARE MANY VOICES IN THIS DREAM.  I see.  YOU SEE -- BUT YOU SEE WITH YOUR MIND'S EYE.  BECAUSE YOUR EYES ARE SHUT.  Eyes wide shut.  YES.  Out there is a great fire and a wall of glass about to break.  BURNING FLESH.  In there is a crazy Arab threatening to kill out the infidels.  UNFAITHFULS.  Non-Muslinmissilehims.  MISSILE HYMNS.  They're coming back out again.  WHAT?  DID YOU GET WARM, GENTLEMEN?  We can't be in the same room with him.  He's possessed with the devil.  WITH THE DARKNESS OF THE DAMNED.  He is so filled with hatred -- he said the world should kill all Americans and all Jews wherever they find them.  WE THINK HE HAS A GUN TOO.  WE SAW HIM WITH A PISTOL.  I think he has Crossmann's gun.  DO YOU HEAR THE SIRENS AND SMELL THE SMOKE.  SOMETHING BAD HAS HAPPENED DOWN SOUTH.  Is someone being lynched, you mean?  MAYBE CROSSMANN WILL HAVE US LYNCH OLD FARAMARZ, LIKE HE HAD HIS STUDENTS LYNCH THE SOUTHWEST EUGENE THREE.  Shh.  We are involved with the number four.  WHAT?  Are you kidding me!  There is a man in the next room armed with a gun threatening to kill all of us!  And you want to continue your search into the paths of the Tree of Life?  The stations of the cross?  YES.  So, who is lost now?  IT IS DARK OUTSIDE.  SNOW IS FALLING.  WHEN THE LIGHT COMES WE WILL KNOW SOMETHING ELSE.  SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN.  Shh.  THE OLD WOMAN SPEAKS AGAIN.  HER FACE ALL CONTRITE.  Shut up or leave!  Shut up or leave!  I SEE.  Shh.  Let's be quiet, friends.  Michael Crossmann is praying.  NO AGY DEGNAR.   Yes.  WHEN WE DECOMPOSE THE SQUARE, EACH NEW SQUARE COVERS HALF THE AREA OF THE PREVIOUS, LARGER SQUARE.  It looks like a rosebud, viewed from the heavens.

 

                                               

 

NOTICE THE SETS OF TRIANGLES EVERYWHERE IN THIS PATTERN.  I see the Iron Cross.

 

                                               

 

YOU ARE LOOKING WITHOUT YOUR EYES, FRIEND.  THERE IS NO IRON CROSS IN THIS IMAGE.  LOOK AGAIN.  THERE ARE FOUR EQUILATERAL TRIANGLES, EACH REPRESENTING A DIRECTION. 

                                               

 

It is the 'X', the crossing or fertilization of the male and the female principles.  AND THEN?  There is the North-South diamond.  

                                               

 

And the East-West diamonds, the same that compose the square.

 

 

                                               

 

Still, there is not a square -- that is, there is not a square without the triangles.  WITHOUT FOUR TRIANGLES.  Yes.

 

                                               

 

 

 

THE 'X' IN THE CENTER.  THE 'X' BEING THE ESSENCE OF THE CROSS.  Yes.  X-Communicate.  STILL I SEE THE IRON CROSS, WITH ITS MYRIAD TRIANGLE BROTHERS OR PARTNERS HANGING FROM IT.  THE EAST-WEST DIAMOND; AND THE NORTH-SOUTH DIAMOND.  The hardest substance known in nature.  YES.  (CLEARLY WE HAVE A WARRIOR IN OUR MIDST.)

 

                                               

 

The decomposed Square, in fact, in composed of Triangles.  We see once again how the Four has grown out of the Three.  MAN DOLL, HUH?  BARBIE WITH A BOUTONNIERE.  Rosebud incorporated.  UPRIGHT MAN IS THE NORTH; WOMAN IS THE SOUTH.  TOGETHER THEY ARE THE ANDROGYNOUS EARTH.  THE THIRD TURNING ITSELF IN TO THE FOURTH.  THE MAN TURNING HIMSELF INTO THE WOMAN.  THE WOMAN BEING SQUEEZED FROM OUT OF THE BIR OF MAN.

 

                                               

 

With an Equator and a Maypole even.  THE POLE INSIDE THE TENT.  The tent and its reflection in the water.  MAN AND WOE TO MAN.  Head to Toe.  WOE IS ME.  Womb is me.  WOMAN AM I.  Noman am I.  AND NOMAD TOO.  The Monad acts through the Duad; the Duad acts throught he Triad; the Triad acts through the Quaternary.  THIS IS ALL VERY ABSTRACT.  AND WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH LITERATURE.  It is the basis of all great literature.  AND ART.  If we listen to the Greeks, it is.  Bittenest of all ends.  ONE DIVIDES ITSELF IN TWO; TWO DIVIDES ITSELF IN TO THREE.  How does Two do this again?

 

                                               

 

IT'S ALL RATHER SIMPLE.  THE MONAD REFLECTS ITSELF AND BECOMES THE DUAD.  THE DUAD DIVIDES ITSELF AND BECOMES THE TRIAD.  THE TRIAD EXTENDS ITSELF AND BECOMES THE QUATERNARY.  And these are the first four races of man?  LET'S NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES.  WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THE ELEMENTS.  About the pre-elements, or pre-genetic matter.  And then the elements.  WHICH BEGIN WITH THE FOUR?  Perhaps you are learning something anyway.  Even if it's against your will.  I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS ELBOW IN LOGIC.  YOU TOLD US THAT HYDROGEN WAS THE EMBLEM OF THE DUAD.  AND HELIUM THE EMBLEM OF THE TRIAD.  NOW YOU ARE DISCUSSING THIS UNUSABLE TERM, PRE-GENETIC MATTER.  AND PRE-ELEMENTS.  ARE YOU SPEAKING OF MUONS THEN?  AND HADRONS?  AND QUARKS?  IS THIS WHAT YOU ARE CALLING PRE-GENETIC MATTER?  Do we have to be cold in order to learn this?  Do we have to approximate the death condition in order to be given such secrets?  WHY DOES EVERYTHING HE DRAW LOOK LIKE A VAGINA?  Rosebudular association.  THE ROSEY CROSS ASSOCIATION HAS NOTHING ON THIS.  Is Crossmann asleep?  He has his eyes closed!  HE'S PRAYING.  Is he going to meet with Pope John Paul?  I heard the pope was coming to town today, to join in the millenium celebration.  WE'RE GOING TO KILL THE FUCKING POPE.  WE HAVE MEN WHO WILL LASH A BOMB TO THEIR CHESTS, DRESS AS A CATHOLIC PRIEST, AND WALK UP TO THE POPE IN DOWNTOWN MANILLA!  I thought someone had killed him.  YOU SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST BOUND AND GAGGED THE MAN!  How could we.  He has all that oil money.  He has armed himself head to toe, readying himself for the millenium murder of ex-communicates.  PUT A MAGIC SILENT SPELL ON HIM.  HIT HIM WITH A SHOVEL IF YOU HAVE TO.  Cujus animam gementem, Contristatem et dolentem, Pertransivit gladius.  THROUGH HER SOUL, OF JOY BEREAVED, BOWED WITH ANGUISH, DEEPLY GRIEVED, NOW AT LENGTH THE SWORD HATH PASSED.  Passed unto us, again, de-bereaving.  DE-BEAVERING.  The fair-weather friends have come back, I see.  LET MOISHE DINE AND DRINK FORELORN.  AND READ SOME MORE THE MORAL FORCE.  My call, shine dear.  LET IT BE.  The womb of the World Mother sitrs.  Electronic power galvanizes magnetic energy into a state of activity; but there are no distinguishing features.  The geometer uses the compass to draw the womb as a circle around the vesica Piscis from its center.  In the past it has been referred to as the Monad, Orphic Egg, Pneumatic Ovum, and Individualized Field.  STOP.  Archetypal patterns arise.  The electromagnetic field spins like a sun on its axis.  Masless light whirls in mathematically precise rhythms and patters.  This is Plato's 'world of pure knowledge, the realm of ideas' and the 'world of wonder' described by seers.  The Egyptians personified this field as the work of the architect/builder god Ptah.  The Greeks called it Archeus, the builder of 'first principles' according to Zeus.  ('Architect', 'arch' and 'archetype' all derive from the Greek word 'archos', first, or  ruler.  Archetype literally means 'first mark'.)    STOP.  To the geometer's eyes, the vesica piscis inherently holds the proportions and paatterns of the basic shapes even before they are consstructed.  STOP.   Geo-mater means 'Earth Mother'  STOP.  The Goddess gives birth.  The geometer makes visible the archetypal proportions inherent in the visica piscis, helping them through the birth portal.  In the electromagnetic field, the spiralling, massless photons thicken into tiny opposite-spinning whorls of protons and electrons that braid with neutrons into massive atoms.  Atoms, the basis for the elements, precipitate in precise geometric patterns like lace embroidery or Islamic tiles, along these lines of force.  The geometries of nature's forms reveal the pattern of their energy fields.  Natural structures, then, are the archetypal matrix made visible.  As ideal geometric patterns materialize they are clothed with four thicknesses of garment, four densities of 'mother substance', unfolding as light and thickening through the phases of gas, liquid, and solid.  In mythic terms, the Demiurge, the Creative God, is said to conquer Chaos by dividing it into the four elements.  STOP.  The right thing to do is to proceed from second dimension to third, which brings us, I suppose, to cubes and other three-dimensional figures.  SSSSSSTOP.  MMMMMMOUTHING PPPPPLAIN TTTTTOE.  What?

 

                                   

 

ARE WE TO BELIEVE AN OLD GREEK QUEER SPEAKING AN ARCHAIC DOCTRINE?  Stop.  THE FOUR CLOTHES OF MATTER: LIGHT, GAS, LIQUID AND SOLID.  That's what we are speaking.  I THINK THEY DON'T EVEN NOTICE THE CRAZY ARAB IN THE NEXT ROOM!  They are sleep-walking, I'm afraid!  IF THEY HAD SEEN WHAT WE SAW!  Dionysus is made of what?  IS HE FROM THE HOUSE OF ATREUS THEN?  OR MERELY THE HOUSE OF THE MAD AHAB?  Ish Maelian.  IS HIS WIFE NOT IPHEGENIA?  Nein.  BACK ON TRACK.  BACK ON TRACK.  Geo Meritrea.  Geom Atreus.  STOP TALKING NONSENSE.  Moist she, coming back again.  WHAT?  Listen.  TO WHAT?  Nature's patterns are based on the mathematics of three-dimensional space.  In essence, natutre's creating process yields fruit by giving birth to volume.  Constructing the universe, therefore, involves the process of volumination.  STOP.  The archetypal field where the patterns first appear is a sphere, a Monad.  The geometry that arises within this sphere is obliged to manifest the Monad's principle of equality in all directions.  Nature adheres to this principle by configurating primary volumes that divide the sphere equally in all directions.  Nature's first expressions in three dimensions are such forms that fir perfectly within the sphere and present us with an identical view in all directions, no matter how you turn it.  These forms, or 'volumes', are based on surfaces with the same shape, either square, triangle or pentagon.  Ruled by the Monad, three-dimesional nature is structurally disposed to the geometry of equality in all directions.  STOP.  There are only five volumes that fulfill this requirement of equality by repeating the identical corner angles, edge lengths, and surface shapes around a sphere.  The five volumes were described by Plato in Timaeus and, so, are known to mathematicians as the 'Platonic solids', and, more formally, the 'regular polyhedra' ('many bases').  Four were identified by Plato with the four ancient elements, or states of matter, and the fifth, the quintessence ('fifth being'), represents the all-encompassing 'cosmos'.  Their names derive from the number of faces they have.  STOP.  So, Heaven has 12 faces?  The Light of Fire has 4 faces?  Air has 8 faces?  Water has 20 faces?  Earth has 6 faces?  STOP THIS.  Stop what?  STOP THIS NONSENSE.  THE ARAB IS RAGING IN THE NEXT ROOM, THREATENING TO KILL ALL OF US.  AND TO KILL THE POPE.  Mem is the Hanged Man.  A'ayin is the Devil.  Peh is the Tower.  MAP.  MAP.  PAM.  PAMP.  Er, what has this to do with anything?  Mister Potter.  OH, TAKE A STROLL DOWN THE STREETS OF BEDFORD FALLS.  ASK ANYONE ABOUT GEORGE BAILEY.  HE IS A MAN AMONG MEN, MINISTER BRINK.  What?  STOP.  MASSO.  There can be only five possible 'equal divisions' of three-dimensional space.  The first thing one might notice about these five forms is that their faces are either triangles, squares or pentagons.  No other flat shape used alone will enclose a volume without gaps.  These are the most economical expressions of space from which Nature's designs derive their characteristics.  Variations on these five volumes in nature are virtually endless.  They're the basis for all crystals, the orderly repeated arrangement of atoms.  STOP.  Another level down, please.  WHAT?  Hewat, umm?  WHAT?  All the stairs befowling.  110 DOWNING STREET.  111 Crowning Street.  SLOP.  MOSTLY.  Geometric manifestation from light through energy to matter.  A sphere representing undifferentiated light sitrs, polarizing in to opposites symbolized by two intersecting circles.  The two poles swirl in opposite directions in mathematically precise rhythmic energy patterns, represented by spiraling cones.  The sphere becomes a whirling energy field displaying lines of force upon which atoms configure to manifest material, visible volumes.

 

 

LOOK AT HIM DRAW!  I'VE NEVER SEEN SUCH A THING.  We're lucky it continues to snow.  He's been drawing all night.  WHAT TIME IS IT?  It must be getting late.  WHEN IS HE GOING TO BEGIN TO PRAY?  I think he's sleeping.  DO YOU REALLY?  HE WOULDN'T DO SUCH A THING.  Leaving us alone, in such agony.  THERE IS A LOT HERE TO SWALLOW.  AND WE ARE OUT OF SPIRITS.  Muzzle speaks with an arched candelabrium.  NOW?  The first manifestations of the universe are geometric.  From hydrogen to uranium all ninety-two natural atoms of the periodicc table that compose minerals and crystals are geometric.  At the borderline between non-living forms and living creatures are the cold, herpes and AIDS viruses, which are not alive but act as if they were and also take form as Platonic volumes.  Many microscopic life-forms share the geometry of these basic volumes.  Each form's geometric expression is perfectly suited to its needs and purpose.  I FEEL AS IF WE, TOO, ARE WHIRLING, SOMETIMES TO THE RIGHT, AT OTHER TIMES TO THE LEFT.  Conspicuous artifice.  SAMSO NOTARY, LIVING IN THE CAVES.  Drop the ten-ton bomb on him.  Wipe his eight away.  AFTER GAN IS STANDING NOTHING BUT A SAD MADAME.  Ten numbers; twenty-six letters.  THE ALCHEMICAL ELEMENTS.  A is for Anna like L is for liv.  Aha hahah, Ante Ann you're apt to ape aunty annalive!  Dawn gives rise.  Lo, lo lives love!  Eve takes fall. La, la, laugh leaves alass.  AL LA YOU MEAN.  Laugh leaves, alas?  Or laugh leaves alass?  EVE COMES IN THE FALL; AND LAUGHTER LEAVES THE LASS.  And what of Dawn?  SPRING GIVES RISE; THE HADRON GETS A HARDON.  Yipes!  LAUGH LEAVES; FALLING LEAVES ARE ORDERED TO LAUGH.  Fool!  Sure Cane Alley is the place to be at night!  LEGS DIAMOND?  The hardest substance in nature.  AFTER DIAMONDS ARE STANDING NOTHING BUT A SPADE MADAME.  A black box?  DIGGING IN THE DIRT; WE'LL FIND THE PLACE THAT WE GOT HURT.  DIGGING IN THE DIRT; FIND THE PLACE THAT WE GOT HURT.  Ground Zero.  IS HE A SCIENTIST OR WHAT?  Sleeping scientist?  SS, YOU MEAN?  SALT SULPHUR MERCURY.  SSM.  SSMikael.  VULCAN NELLIE.  Wagging her tail.  SIX TIMES SIX.  Ka'aba.  CUBA.  Zalt.  SICK CIRCLES.

 

 

                                               

 

Cut and fold.  FOUR SKINS?  Whose the Mohel?  CUT AND TUCK.  Knife of life; knife of soul.  FORE SINS.  FORE SHINS.  Delta hedra.  DIDO HYDRA.  Mario Lasagna.  HOW LONGYA GONNA WASTE MY TIME LIKE THIS, MISTER SOPRANO?  Get out your scissors, dear.  Your left-handed scissors.  CUT AND PLASTER.  Follicles and the festering fez. PASTE.  In three dimentias.  DELTA PELTA.  Thoughts of old men in a cold garden watching snowflakes and skinflakes fold and shiverrr down from an arid smoky sky.  FURROWED FOLDS OF FURRIED FIELDS.  OF FASHION.  Delta felta melta moony   WISDOM COMES OUT OF PAIN.  THE NEW AGE GENERATION CHASES WISDOM OUT OF BOREDOM AND REBELLION -- INTELLECTUAL CURIOSITY.  Heading downward into 'Facing Dog'; rising back up into 'Cobra'.  Now relaxing into 'Child's Pose'.  POSED IN CLOTHES 'DED.  ROSE IS ROSE.  TONIC.  Scissors being for what?  SNIP; AND TUCK IN.  And fold.  DELTAHEDRA.  THE THREE PLATONIC VOLUMES WHOSE FACES ARE EQUILATERAL TRIANGLES.  What the Cube is the Square, these triplet triads are to the Triangle.  FOUR-FACE, EIGHT-FACE, TWENTY-FACE, FIGHT!

 

 

                                               

 

                                               

 

You're not suggesting Crossmann is a kind of George Bailey!  NO, OF COURSE NOT.  NOT!  Knot.  DON KNOTS?  Knots of energy.  Atom.  K-K-KNOTS OF ENERGY.  You have drawn two of the triplets in the snow.  What of the last one?  WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF SNOW.  You make me feel old whenever you do this.  THE MAGICIAN IS LEAVING TO GET SOME PAINTS.  What?  YES, CANS OF PAINT.  TO PAINT IN THE SNOW.  Hallowed sin nation.  YOU UNDERSTAND YOU UNDER GARMENTS.  Like a good Mormon, I guess.  FORE LOCK, FOR YOUR FAVOR.  Mushy.  DRAW!  Icosahedral cathedral.  THREE ON TOP; FOUR ON BOTTOM.  Draw!

 

                                               

 

THREE, FOUR AND FIVE.  Four corners to the square; the triplets have three corners each; and the dodecron has five corners. 

 

Platonic Solids

Volume

Shape of Face

Faces

Corners

Edges

Difference between

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faces + Corners and Edges

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heaven

Dodecahedron

Pentagon

12

20

30

2

Fire

Tetrahedron

Triangle

4

4

6

2

Air

Octahedron

Triangle

8

6

12

2

Water

Icosahedron

Triangle

20

12

30

2

Earth

Hexahedron

Square

6

8

12

2

 

(Cube)

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE ATOMSPHERE IS AN ATMOSPHERE.  Yes.  I believe you are right.  FIRE IS INTUITION; AIR IS MENTAL; WATER IS EMOTIONAL; EARTH IS PHYSICAL NATURE.   We know all this.  Why are we covering the same ground again?  THESE ARE SKINS, OR CLOTHES, THAT SPIRIT PUTS ON.

 

                                               

Granite, Alabaster, Limestone, Sandstone.  AT LEAST HE CAN READ.  Head, heart, solar plexus, genitals.  SALAMANDERS, SYLPHS, UNDINES, GNOMES.  Gold, silver, bronze, iron.  HOLY OF HOLIES, INNER CHAMBER, INNER COURT, OUTER COURT.  Priest, soldier, merchant, servant.  LION, HAWK, CROCODILE, BEETLE.  Nervous, respitory, circulatory, digestive.  RESURRECTION, CRUCIFIXION, PERSECUTION, SERVICE.  Creeping things, birds of the air, fishes of the sea, beasts of the field.  WISDOM, KNOWLEDGE, OPINIONS, IGNORANCE.  Monk, knight, burgher, peasant.  FOUR BY FOUR EQUALS SIXTEEN.  One and Six equals seven.  LOOKING FOR FIVE.  Head, chest, gut and pelvis.  FOUR.  What time is it?  I'm sure my wife is worried about me.  IT'S MILLENNIUM EVE.  NO ONE IS HOME TONIGHT.  It's Fat Tuesday times Four.  ZEUS BY ZEUS BY ZEUS BY ZEUS.  The Cube.  CRUCIAL FACIAL.  Cube.  FAITHFUL ASTRO KAYE.  Matriarchal Man.  YES -- WE HEAR OF HIM, THIS MAN WITH WOMAN ON THE INSIDE.  This man under the shadow of the Earth Mother.  UNDERWORLD.  Out of the light.  YOU ARE ONE OF THEM.  WHY DO YOU FIGHT SO HARD AGAINST YOURSELF?  I am my Father's son.  I SEE.  And your mother?  You left your mother to rot in a nursing home!  SHE WAS NOT HERSELF!  THE LAST TIME I SAW HER SHE THOUGHT I WAS HER BROTHER!  You have betrayed her!  YES!  Betrayal of your own blood!  YOU BETRAYED YOUR BROTHER ALSO!  Your brother is the female man that you deride.  THE FEMALE MAN IS LAZY, WITHOUT WILL.  He is the poet, the creative soul.  HE IS DARK, WILL NOT WORK, IS OFTEN HOMOSEXUAL -- WISHING TO LIVE OFF HIS MOTHER.  Hating his father.  FOR GOOD REASON PERHAPS.  Perhaps.  And perhaps not.  YOU NEED NOT SAY PERHAPS AND PERHAPS NOT -- BECAUSE PERHAPS MEANS PERHAPS NOT.  I see.  WHAT DOES IAMBLICHUS SAY?  He said: It is a frequent assertion of ours that the whole universe is manifestly completed and enclosed by the Decad, and seeded by the Monad,  and it gains momentum thans to the Dyad and Life thanks to the Pentad.  THE FIVE.  Yes.  WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE 26 LETTERS.  NOW WE FIND OUR WAY THROUGH THE TEN NUMBERS.  IS THIS SUPPOSED TO TELL US SOMETHING?  I don't know.  PERHAPS.  Your anger at the female man, the artist, is really anger at your self -- for you are him too.  THE MIDDLE PRINCIPLE IS THE BALANCE.  HE IS ON THE SIDE OF THE DARK MAN UNTIL THE DARK MAN BECOMES TOO STRONG; THEN HE IS ON THE SIDE OF THE LIGHT MAN, UNTIL THE MLIGHT MAN BECOMES TOO STRONG.  THE MIDDLE PRINCIPLE IS THE PRINCIPLE OF VISHNU.  VISHNU SIDES WITH THE LIGHT MAN TO BUILD THE WORLD (BECOMING BRAHMA); VISHNU IS HIMSELF, SIDING WITH THE DARK MAN TO USE THE WORLD, BECOMING INCREASINGLY NEGATIVE; SIVA IS THE ABSENCE OF VISHNU.  THE MIDDLE PRINCIPLE VANISHES AND THE LIGHT MAN AND THE DARK MAN ANNIHILATE ONE ANOTHER, BRINGING ABOUT THE PURE ENERGY STATE WHICH LEAD AGAIN TO INCARNATION OF BRAHMA.  You talk like this is a fact.  YOU EDUCATE YOUR KILLER.  You are the killer and the killed; and the one who sees the killing. 

 

 

HERMES, THE THIEF  De Divina Proportione.  FRIEND N, UPSIDE DOWN.  The N and the Anti-N.  Makes a 'X".

 

                                               

 

ROTATED AGAIN, THE 'X' BECOMES AN 'X' AGAIN, AND AN HOUR-GLASS.

 

                                               

 

Two triangles, one up and one down, prepraring to be attracted.  NINA.  Anin.  THE 'A', YOU WILL UNDERSTAND, IS COMPOSED OF TWO TRIANGLES: A SMALL TRIANGLE WITHIN A LARGER TRIANGLE.  A MICROCOSM INSIDE A MACROCOSM.

 

                                               

 

Don't get lost.  AT 'B' THE UNIVERSE DIVIDES INTO 2, INTO UNIVERSE AND ANTI-UNIVERSE.  ONE-HALF OF THE 'EIGHT'.

 

                                               

 

Pardon?  ONE-HALF OF THE '8', THE EMBLEM OF THE UNIVERSE AND ITS TWIN: LIGHT AND DARKNESS.  THE MIRROR-SIDE IS NOT TO BE SEEN YET.

 

                                               

 

The Negative Side is unseen.  I SEE.  'E', too, is an emblem of the same '8'.  Cube on cube.

 

                                               

 

THE DOOR; THE WINDOW.  The Brown Man says that civilization is death.  The Brown Man says that order is death; and orderlessness, Chaos, is Life.  OPPOSITE TO FREUD.  Freud was the friend of civilization.  Freud was the friend of Man.  DEFT MOVEMENT.  Oozing Clay Time.  SEVENTEEN-TWELVE-THIRTEEN.  Lieb Nicht.  LET THE PLAY JURY CONSIDER THIS MAN'S CLAIM TO THE CREATION OF COOL CAUL US, A SYSTEM OF MAGIC BASED ON THE SYMBOLISM OF NUMBERS AND ON THE POWER INHERENT IN LETTERS AND KIDNEY FAT.  Priapus in the head.  SAMUEL PEEPS AND ARGUES, A REAL CLARKE, ON THE SANK BLATE.  Ocklay Oversay.  OVERHEAR OVERHERE.  Oh, the Sanks are comin', the Sanks are comin'; and it won't be over till its over th'air.  DEFT MOVEMENT.  Again?  HE'S TRYING NOT TO FACE THE FACT THAT HE IS A PLAGIARIST.  SO HE GOES INTO ALL THESE OBLIQUE ALLUSIONS, HOPING HE WON'T HAVE TO FACE THE TRUTH.  Game 1, Set 1, to Crossmann.  OH, WHEN THE SANKS, GO MARCHIN' IN, OH WHEN THE SANKS GO MARCHIN' IN.  OH, I WANT TO BE IN THAT NUMBER, WHEN THE SANKS GO MARCHIN' IN.  B-5.  The number is B-5.  OF COURSE, THE PENTAGRAM IS NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH ITS INVERSION, THE DRUDENFUSS (OR THE 'WITCH'S FOOT') WHICH APPEARS IN MAGICAL RITUALS AND WITCHCRAFT.  Mosh bar.  WHAT?

                                               

 

The Drudenfuss has been associated with devils and demons since the rebel Egyptian god Set resisted spiritual aspiration and became the adversary of his brother Osiris and nephew Horus.  Set has many attributes of the devil: horns, coarse red hair, hooves, a tail.  He and his hordes resist truth, justice, order and righteousness.

                                               

 

Set's 42 attributes are actually symbols of the down-ward reaching elements of our own psyche that must be purified.  The Eyyptian underworld, the 'Duat', whose hierogylph is a circle surrounded by a five-pointed star in a circle, is the mythical  nighttime place where the 'perhishable' stars go when they sink below the horizon at dusk.  The 'duat' recalls our own spiritual sleep from which we can awaken.  The Egyptian star glyph without the circle signified either a nighttime star, a door, or a teaching, an intriguing combination of ideas in one glyph.  The Sun's inevitable birth, into dawn and daylight (symbolizing our own spiritual arising) is resisted in the duat by hideous adversaries.  In ancient Greece, the star was associated with Pan "All"), who also had horns, red hair, hooves, and a tail, representing the lustful fertility of nature, which induces panic and pandemonium (literally, 'all the demons') in the world.  Later, in Western cultures, Pan's sexuality became the great temptation of the modern devil; and the star was inverted to imply the reverse of, and resistance to, its positive qualities of excellence and goodness.  NIGEL KNOWS BEST.  Young Robert knows too -- a falling star that S-S-S-S Dry Dun Fuse.  DID HE NOT SEND A LETTER TO YOU?  Matriarchy.  WHAT?  Mayter hierarchy.  NONE.  None what?  HIRE ARCHY.  Higher archy?  HIGHER ARKY.  Yes.  ARCY WITH NO COLUMN.  Before the coming of course.  THE MILKY WAY.  The coarse coming of cures.  MAITREA ORKNEY.  Island of the situated mount.  PERSPECTIVE BEING WITHIN.  For a time.  AWAKE SHE CRIES.  Perspective being inwith.  FOR A RHYME.  Ashake she spies.  ADDER LAY.  Edder lay.  RISE UP, MAN OF HOOFS, YOU HAVE SLEPT SO LONG.  Who throws the beast out of heaven?  THE NEGATIVE FORCE YOU MEAN?  The one with ono future?  THE FALL OF LUCIFEAR COMES FIERCT; THEN THE AWFUL OF MAN ATOM.  I see.  READ THE LETTER!  I think it is possible that at this time the patriarchy is at its worst and the matriarchy hardly begun but will only get better -- within the framework of light and dark, granted -- but it may bring peace.  The patriarchy shoots itself in the foot by being possessive of women which means one woman per man -- instead of nature where the man is wandering, peripheral to society, and like bees with flowers, and free from the strains and stresses of having children around too close -- only having one woman means being frustrated and unhappy discontent and therefore raging and therefore warlike -- man says you can't have my woman which he doesn't see means that he can't have other women.  In the matriarchy, the softer women are in the centre protected by the tougher men -- just as the seed in the husk has the generating ability, so the women give birth to the new generations -- not without the hlp of the men, of course -- just like the whales with the nursing mothers ringed by the bull whales -- the weakness of the women is balanced by their unity in the centre -- the greater strength of the men is dissipated in the circumference -- in individualism -- women are the natural healers and wounded men come to the soft centre for healing.  It's a nice idea and I like it; and it seems to fit with FW.  WHAT!  WHO THE HELL IS THAT SPEAKING!  No one moves!  SOME FAIRY MAMA'S BOY STICKING UP A FINGER IN HELL'S KITCHEN?  Who -- dammit!  NO MOVEMENT.  Is this someone's memory of a soft time, a soft center?  WOUNDED MEN COME TO THE SOFT CENTRE FOR HEALING.  Is Robert Blye in the room?  IN AGAIN'S FAKE.  Win again's achy fenestrom.  STORM OF ENDING.  Thor's core chore, more war than poor fiord of Igor.  MAMMARY ACHIEVEMENT.  The boy doesn't want to grow up.  STERLING.  ANALYSIS.  DOCTOR.  FRIEND.  Dew Age.  DOCTOR FREED.  New Stage.  DOCTOR GREED.  Blue Cage.  DOCTOR BOY'D.  Bird's Egg.  HIVE'S FAYE, ORGAN'S MAEVE.  Aqua rien.  NOTHING WATER.  Vater Not.  MUTTER MUCH.  Mute Mouth.  EGG AVAY.  Take this broken tongue.  Now this dark life.  Shot through with light.  A GOVAY.  Summer Triangle.  STONE EAGLE.  Former Pole.  HOW MANY STARS DOES IT TAKE TO EDUCATE A BOY-MESSIAH?  Three.  Two to hold the boy and turn him; and one to shine the light in his brain.  LAUGHTER IS FEINED.  Doctor Fried, can you spare a smoke?  CLEARLY, DEARLY.  Ha Ha.  AND HOW MANY TO MOVE THE SET WITH THE CAMELS?  The Set, with the camels?  Please, doctor, no ethnic humor, please.  The horns are out already.  We've been introduced to the German dragonfest.  SOCRATES SAID THAT, FROM ABOVE, THE EARTH LOOKS LIKE ONE OF THOSE TWELVE-PATCHED LEATHERN BALLS.  We know now that atomes do exist; and that some particles smaller than atoms also exist.  These sub-atomic particles are divided into two main groups, the leptons and the hadrons.  The best-known lepton ('light' particle) is the electron.  In order to account for the emission of electrons from the nucleus, the neutrino, an essentially massless neutral particle was postulated.  The muon and the tau, both much more massive than the electron, comprise the rest of the lepton family  The hadrons are divided into two groups, the mesons and the baryons.  Protons and neutrons are baryons.  Mesons and baryons are made of smaller particles called quarks.  There are six different quarks: up, down, charmed, strange, top and bottom.  While these are descriptive names, they convey nothing about the distinct properties of the quark.  Each quark comes in three different colors: red, blue and green.  Again, the color lagel has nothing to do with the quark's appearance.  Baryons are composed of three quarks; mesons are composed of a quark and an anti-quark. MISTER MARK QUARK AND ANTI-MISTER ANTI-MARK ANTI-QUARK.  AMAK.  Amuck.  Mister Running Anti-Amuck Quark.  AS FAR AS WE KNOW, QUARKS ARE LIKE POINTS IN GEOMETRY.  THEY'RE NOT MADE UP OF ANYTHING ELSE.  The point then?  THE POINT AND THEN THE LINE.  The Monad's point; the Dyad's line; the Triad's surface; the Tetrad's volume; and the Pentad's what?  THE PENTAD'S LIFE.  What?  LIFE.  THE PENTAD REPRESENTS THE INTRODUCTION OF LIFE.  Geometrically, the Pentad is born through the vesica piscis as the pentagon and the pentagram (the five-pointed star), as whirling spirals, and as the three-dimensional dodecahedron, the fifrth of the five Platonic volumes, having twelve pentagonal faces.  The dodecahedron has been known to philosophers as the Quintessence ('fifth being') of nature, encompassing and infusing the four elements -- solids, liquids, gases and electronic fire -- with the Life they cannot create by themselves alone.  The four elements supply the materials of their configuration; but the Pentad carries the flag of Life.  I SEE.  Someone is getting out their paints.  ATOM IS THE BREATH OF LIFE.  Is he going to paint on the snow?  MY GOD, IS THE MAN A BARBARIAN!  Himalayan Man.  HIM A LAYA MAN TOO.  Mantu.  WHAT?  Did he say?  Him a Himmelmann?  HYMN IN ISLE OF MAN.  Part two.  UBIQUITOUS  USURIOUSNESS.  Uvula Unction.  TIME.  ICING.  Yes.  I sing.  MISTER MASTER QUARK IS THE POINT.  Then what is the line?  HYDROGEN?  What?  THE SUB-ATOMIC IS THE POINT.  THE ATOMIC IS THE LINE.  Hydrogen?  HYDROGEN IS THE LINE, THE DIAMETER.

 

                                   

 

The radius, you mean.  THE RADIUS, MOVING.  MOVING WITH SUCH VELOCITY THAT IT BECOMES, IN MOTION, A DIAMETER.  Reflecting itself, side to side.  THE MONAD IS THE POINT; THE DUAD IS THE LINE; THE TRIAD IS THE SURFACE; AND THE TETRAD IS VOLUME.  The molecule is the surface, then?  WHAT?  The molecule is the surface, the triangle?  THEORETICALLY.  BUT THE SURFACE IS STILL TWO-DIMENSIONS.  THE TRIANGLE, INTRODUCED TO DEPTH, BECAME, VOLUME.

 

                                      

 

SUCH AS RUBY, YOU MEAN?  THE BEST-KNOWN FORM OF THE MINERAL CORUNDUM (A12O3).  MOLECULAR MANIA.  Look to the root of the word.  The root of the word is in the ground.  Grafted to the root is another root.  Language too is a kind of molecular mania.  WITH SHARP EDGES.  Sharp edges: count them.  FACES.  SMALL FACES.  Gasoline alley.  DID YOU HEAR: THE EYEMAN LOST AN EYE.  A BOMB CAME DOWN; HE LOST AN EYE.  Cyclops Diecrops.  Cyclops Myops.  TAKE YOUR WORDS DOWN TO THE PUN SHOP, GALLANT ONE.  PERHAPS THEY WILL GIVE YOU A DIME FOR YOUR WIT.  Mayhaps.  Claypaps.  MAMMY'S LITTLE BABY LOVE SHORTNIN-, SHORTNIN', MAMMY'S LITTLE BABY LOVES SHORTNIN' BREAD.  Mama's little wonder-boy.  Waiting for the world to become nice.  WAITING FOR THE WORLD TO BECOME NICE.  Roots roots the magical fruits.  The more you eats the more you toots.  The more you toots the better you feel, so lets have roots for every meal.  LEGUME.  So I presume.  LEG ROOM.  So I consume.  DAFFY CHARACTER.  When the nation or the solitary soul looks for its roots, it is in the soil, buried you might say, a night seed, preceding re-birth.  DON'T WE FIND ROOTS BOTH IN THE SOIL AND IN THE SKY?  Verily we do.  Baretly attune as we are to these reflective truths.  QUARK, QUARK.  The quak's six principles -- up, down, charmed, strange, top and bottom -- is that a picture of the cube?  THE TRIANGLE IS SURFACE; THE TETRAD IS VOLUME.  The Matriarchy is the alliance between the Mother and her Son: Oedipus Complexity.  It is the Night: the Mother protecting the Son, raising him up from the dirt.  The Mother being the Moon being, guardian of Darkness.  The Patriarchy is the alliance between the Father and his Daughter: Electra Compensation.  It is the Day: the Father procreating with the Daughter, bringing Life and riches and bounty to the Earth.  The Father being the Sun at its height; the Daughter being the Earth, the vessel of Light.  WE DON'T FORGET THAT OEDIPUS KILLED HIS FATHER; AND MARRIED HIS MOTHER.  AND THEN ALL MANNER OF INFECTION CAME IN TO HIS LAND, INFERTILITY AND PLAGUE, POVERTY AND DEMONIC POSSESSION.  The darkness of Night.  THE WHOLE OF WORLD HISTORY IS WRIT IN THE STORIES OF OEDIPUS AND ELECTRA.  There are only about 100 kinds of atoms in all the Universe; and whether these atoms form trees or tires, ashes or animals, water or the air we breathe, depends upon how they are put together.  The same atoms are used again and again.  Structure determines not only the appearance of materials, but also their properties.  BURKA.  BURKA.  Cover your mouth when you do that?  BETTER OUT OF HIS MOUTH THAN OUT OF HIS BINSGURG.  You can't look before yourself and behind yourself at the same time.  YES.  IT WAS NEVER INTENDED THAT WE SHOULD STUDY OUR OWN OFFAL.  No, I think he's right.  WHY, YES, THAT IS PHILOSOPHY!  It is, in fact.  SO, WE CAN ONLY SEE HALF THE PICTURE, AT BEST.  At best.  WE ARE EITHER LOOKING FORWARD, OR LOOKING BACK.    We are either scientists or poets?  YES.  THE POETS LOOK BACK.  I see.  WHO IS THIS HE WATT, THIS VOCALIZING ELECTRIC MAN, SHINING LIKE A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS?  Who is the damn fool who is painting geometric structures in the snow?   SHEM SHEM SHIM-MY AACHEN.  KING OF THE WILD FRONTIER.  Mountaintop.  Mountaintop.  THE SHAMROCK.  FROM THE STIFF UPPER LIP OF OLGA.  The memory of what?  ASTER'S GONE.  ASTER'S GONE.  When an electrical insulator can become a superconductor, a pencil a diamond, a common cold a deadly virus, we begin to understand how important it is to understand the structure of materials.  Every year we are making rapid progress in developing new tools to understand structure; X-rays and accelerators, electron microscopes and nuclear reactors are among many physical and chemical techniques. One of the most important tools is of course the computer, both for calculating structures and visualising them. Combining computers with communication means that the secrets of structure, and the beauty of structure, can be revealed to everyone.  First we will try to understand why atoms naturally arrange themselves to form a structure. Then we will look at some common structures, and ask why diamonds are forever, but salt is of the earth - all of which will help us understand the different kinds of bonding between atoms. Finally we will look at the structure of some exciting new materials - Superconductors and Giant Magneto-Resistive ceramics for example - that will be used to transport us to work and to play... tomorrow.  FANTASIES OF NOCK.  NOCK.  Who'll glare?  GLARE WHO?  Glarehoven glarehooven conglomerate condrehugen.  WHO IS THIS SCIENTIST?  I thult you'd never ask, dear Bliss.  AUTRE ZYDE DEDE BRAIN.  Daylight monkeylight.  THE BROKEN BOTTLER NAMED DIAMETER.  Dogtror Shaper, Philosophica Hermetica Doctora.  PHOENIX HERA DAVID.  Fine Trimurti, felllow finder.  IN YOU DREAMS, OF COURSE.  ONLY IN YOUR DREAMS.  Let him speak.  I SHALL BE QUIT.  Imagine a stack of balls in a box.  The balls will pack together to fill up all the space.  This is called close-packing.  You can see how it works iff you look at a pile of oranges in the supermarket.  Notice how the oranges form a pattern.  Each orange labelled A will be surrounded by six othere oranges within one layer.  Notice the holes labelled B and C.  We can place a second layer of close-packed oranges on either the B-sites or the C-sites, but not both.  In this way we can build up a 3-dimensional structure.

 

 

                                   

 

Does this structure correspond to anything in nature (aside from oranges in supermarkets)?  Of course!  A stack of layers of types ABC, ABC ... represents the cubic close-packed (CCP) atomic structure of gold as determined by X-rays. 

                                   

Atoms lie on the corners of a cube, with additional atoms at the centers of each cube face; for this reason it is often called face-centered cubic (FCC).  Many simple metals have this FCC structure, whose symmetry is described as Fm-3M where F means face-centered, M signifies a miirror-plane (there are two) and -3 tells us that there is a 3-fold symmetry axis (along the body diagonal) as well an inversion symmetry.  MOISHE IS A DAMNED SCIENTIST NOW.  Smart and decent is good.  But if not smart and decent, decent is better than smart.  ANTI-INTELLECTUAL, I GUESS.  Keep going.  KEEP GOING WHERE?  Keep going where you are going.  THE RIGHT WING HATES THE MIDDLE CLASS BECAUSE THE MIDDLE CLASS PROTECTS THE LEFT WING FROM THE RIGHT WING.  THE LEFT WING HATES THE MIDDLE CLASS BECAUSE THE MIDDLE CLASS IS BOURGEOIS, TASTELESS, WEAK.  WHEN THERE IS NO MIDDLE CLASS, THE RIGHT WING AND THE LEFT WING KILL EACH OTHER.  What has that to do with this....geometry?  I'M NOT SURE.  Burka, Bupka.  GOLDEN CLOVER.  Actually there is another common form of close-packing, corresponding to layers with stacking AB, AB...or AC, AC...(these are equivalent).  This is called hexagonal close-packing (HCP), and the competition between CCP and HCP is determined by longer range forces between the atoms.  This the the structgure of sodium at low temperatures.  PAINT, YOU MADMAN!  PAINT LIKE YOU WERE STILL WEARING THOSE MAGIC GLASSES!

 

                                   

 

So, the cube and the hexagon.  Atomic structure is the cube or the hexagram.  The choice of structure is affected by heat.  THIS VILLA CAN ALLY ITSELF WITH THAT VILLA -- IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE SAYING?  The third common metallic structure is called body-centered cubic (BCC) and consists of a unit cube with atoms at its corners and center.  The BCC structure is slightly less closely-packed than FCC or HCP, and it is often the high temperature form of metals that are close-packed at lower temperatures.  For example, sodium changes from HCP to BCC above -237 degrees C!  The structure of Iron (Fe) can be either CCP or BCC depending on its heat treatment -- while metals such as chromium are always BCC.  PAINT CHROMIUM, MAN!  IF YOU CAN'T KEEP UP, HAVE CROSSMANN GIVE YOU A HAND!

 

                                   

 

Metals which are BCC, such as chromium, are usually harder and less malleab le that close-packed metals such as gold.  When the metal is deformed, the planes of atms much slip over each other; and this is difficult in the BCC structure.  Of course there are other important mechanisms (besides heating) for haredening metals, and these involve introducing impurities or defects which also block slipping.  A HEXAGONAL STRUCTURE; AND TWO CUBIC STRUCTURES.  Not to mention the Tora Bora cave complex.  I BEG YOUR PARDON.  Begging is, of course, outlawed by the Rokna, as interpreted by our friend NABILAT.  HE TALKS LIKE THIS FOR HOURS.  HE CAN JUST DRONE ON AND ON.  And then he shows you a knife.  OR GIVES STONES TO OLD WOMEN.  Hurthim and Thumpim.  HURLHIM AND JUMPHIM.  What happens when one erect atom enters the small hole of another atom?  MY, YOU ARE A CUSIOUS BOY.  MOISHE WILL TELL YOU.  HE SEE THAT HE HAS YOUR ATTENTION.  Start painting, Magic Johnson.  You're no Polack; rather you have the eye of a draughtsman.  THE DRAUGHTSMAN'S CONTRACT HAS A CLAUSE WITH FAUST INSIDE.  Green, away!  Green party, away!  Green apples, away -- (green ones give me gas).  Mo Green, away!  There is a spot on your spectacles!  I look at green, and I think of Sartre -- and how his grass was never mowed!  BURKA, BARFA.  THINK I'M GONNA SPARK A CLONTARFA.  Chromatic abberration.  GEAVE A PEEVISH FEVERED REEVER PEACE; I'M GONNA HEAVE THE RYE AWY OR DIE!  Moonlight suddenly, arching a back, a silver ark on a sea.  SMOKE FLOATING UP FROM THE SOUTH. Kissing sky.  AIR BUSS; AIR BUSS HAIR BUSH.  Musclemen talk always about the power of the corkscrew.  TWENTY-SEVEN VIRGINS; TWENTY-EIGHT FUNERAL URNS.  Someone left to fall, alone, oft walls.  DAMIINATED.  Captivating language.  GOD'S WISDOM.  SPIRALLING IN US LIKE CANE.  What happens when one atom enters another and takes up residence, changing the world for ever?  SUN FESTIVAL.  Rankor.  OR NORKAN.  Birds turning blue.  FELLOW WARRIORS HOLD YOUR COCKS AND LEAD THEM IN TO RORIBUN.  Toxin.  MOISHE'S SCIENCE AND MOISHE'S ART.  Very often when we have two or more different atoms, the packing is deteermined by the larger atoms -- the small atoms just have to make do with whatever space is left.  This is the cas of some simple salts, such as lithium chloride.

 

                                   

 

Lithium is the smallest of all atoms, with the exception of hydrogen; and the big chlorine atoms just pack together with the CCP structure, leaving the small lithium atoms to squeeze into the ocahedral holes.  Why are the holes called octahedral?  Because each hole occupied by a lithium atom is surrounded by six chlorine atoms at the vertices of an octahedron.  Please draw these atoms as small spheres to emphasize instead the 'co-ordination polyhedrae'. 

 

                                   

 

Such geometrical concepts are very popular with crystallographers since they help us to understand the co-ordination of atoms in more complex chemical structures.  WHO DESIGNED THE ATOMS?  What?  WHAT DESIGNED THE ATOMS?  Is there a law we must consider?  PLATO'S AWL.  Which?  PLATO'S LAW THAT GOD GEOMETRIZES.  Emanating outward.  Emanating in.  A FLOWER OPENING FROM THE CENTER.  One, Two, Three, Four, Five.  THE DARK ANGEL SO SECURE IN HIS INTELLECT, SPEAKING FROM SUCH AN ELEVATED PRISM.  HE MEETS THE ANGEL MICHAEL WHO RETURNS FROM A LONG CYCLE OF TIME.  MICHAEL CASTS HIM FROM HIS PERCH, SHOWING HIM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD.  HE COMES DOWN TO WALK ON THE EARTH, A KILLER.  A Cainite.  GRANITE.  Cane ish.  GAIN ISH.  Gan inside the rooster.  HE HAS LIVER IN HIS LIVER.  Who does?  THE FALL OF THE DARK ANGELS, THE ONES WHO DESIRE THE WORLD TO END, WHO WELCOME THE DARKNESS ON THE EARTH, THE BOY WHO DESIRES HIS MOTHER.  Are you telling me that the Fall of the Angels is the advent of the Matriarchy; and the Fall of Man is the advent of the Patriarchy?  TWOSOME, SO GRUESOME.  Adam Mota.  Monad Damom.  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 8 7 6  5 4 3 2 1.  ZERO.  Who says?  YOU'RE NOT TELLING ME:

 

                                   

 

I said nothing about that!  No!  Certainly not!  IS THIS SOME KIND OF HERESY?  Hindu mint of magic: not stone!  AND WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?  Listen not to the one who is buckling up his armor.  BUCKLEY BEING THE ONE WHO IS TAXING THE RUSSIAN GENERAL?  Calm, now.  Calm is good.  Malc not nearly so good; malcontent is harmful.  THIS AND THAT.  SISTER WITH BREASTS.  Capable of unction herself.  UNCOMPLEMENTARY NUNCTION OF TUNC.  Yes.  I see you understand.  FOUR STORE MORE GALORE.  Five Hive Jive Contrive.  Five contrives to reproduce itself evermore.  IF IS LIFE, AFTERALL.  ISN'T THAT WHAT LIFE DOES?  I rest my case, your honor.  NO, NOT YET!  THE BASTARD IS ASLEEP!  HE IS DREAMING OF RESTING HIS CASE!  BUT WHAT ABOUT THE LARCENY CHARGE!  Stealing what?  WORDEARNINGS.  What?  NEWSPRINTFINGERS.  Me?  COLLAGEN ON YOUR FACE.  Not I?  This is the real me.  The real face, finally.  IS HE NOT A LOVER TOO?  Who.  FOUR-FOLD MAN.  He did not say that he said that.  FIRE AIR WATER EARTH WATER AIR FIRE.  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1?  ADDING
UP TO WHAT?  45 and 36 is 81.  81 IS 9 TIMES 9.  81 is 3 times 3 times 3 times 3.  8 plus 1 also is 9.  ANGER, WRATH; HEARER OF CRIES; NIGHT DEMON; THRONE. 

 

            45.  The Perfect and the Perfect are the one Perfect and not two; nay are none.

 

INTELLIGENCE OF SATURN.  ADAM.  THE FOOL.  REDEMPTION, LIBERATION.  TO GROW WARM.  HEAVEN OF TIPHERETH.  HESITATED.  SPIRIT OF SATURN.  SHE WHO RUINS.  TET IN YETZIRAH.  STRONGLY; GREATLY.  YETZIRAH'S 'SECRET NATURE'.  We know of 36.  GATHERING FAGGOTS FOR THE PYRE.  Father Dominus, Job has come.  HARD ARTERY, CLOSING DOWN.  What?  AIR IS SPARE.  What?  BLOOD IS MUD.  What?  WATER IS SLAUGHTER.  Perhaps I should leave, before the populace bgins to wake.  HAR MONEY.  CAR MONEY.  How does the plant reproduce itself from only a leaf?  How does the earthworm regenerate itself from a fragment?  How does the starfish with a lost leg re-grow the leg -- and also re-grow a second body from out of the abandoned leg?  WHAT?  Hollow grammar; hollow content.  WHAT?  Hollow gram of wheat; hollow gram of straw.  IS THE MAN SAYING SOMETHING CREDIBLE?  Tora Tora, Tora Bora.  IN EACH ATOM IS PROGRAMMED, IN GRAPHIC CONTENT, THE WHOLE CREATION AND THE WHOLE DESTRUCTION.  Don't Nag Adam.  Adam doesn't like to be nagged.  He's hungry.  COME GATHER ADAM'S TRESSES.  ADAM'S TRESSES GENERATE CORN.  Dry myth!  MISTER AUBREY BEARDSLEY, NINA'S FELICITATIOUS RE-GENERATE, DRAWS A MASSIVE COCK THAT IS BEING STUCK INSIDE A BEARDED LADY WHO IS GOOEYAGOG WITH A LOVE OF TREES.  The two-handed stump.  SO RELISHED BY JAPANESE PRINTVOTIVARIES.  Hide the corn, Popeye!  Be a man!  MEA GULPA!  MEA GULPA!  Fine farrow friend of the wood.  Milk in her mouth and a friendly homonymph in her heart.  BORA BORA; IS SHE A HORA?  Nina in one direction is Anni in a mother.  NONCE.  Hildegarde von Bingen: a voice so pure and porous comes out of the chapel walls for a moment, splitting open sin and delivering God's x-ecration.  WHAT WAS THAT?  THAT ANGELIC VOICE?  Waking us up from somewhere.  HE LOOKS LIKE CORIOLANUS, SITTING THERE -- DON'T YOU THINK?  Who, Crossmann?  YES -- THE BROTHER CROSSAMOSSOFF.  Closing Time. Closing Time.  Last call.  Last drink -- before the bandman sleeps.  SANDMAN; SANDSTONE HANDS.  Penis, Underwear, Pants, Overcoat.  Pants, Underwear, Penis.  Zero.  WHAT ARE YOU DREAMING OF?  SOMETHING ECSTATIC I CAN PRETTY WELL GUESS!  Illicit.  ILL CITY.  Thongs of Ecstacy.  DOESN'T ANYONE HEAR HAVE A NAME -- EXCEPT FOR THAT CROSSMANN, I MEAN?  Ivey, Ivey, you make me feel lively.  Ivey, Ivey, where'd you get those pipes?

 

                          

 

THE PENTAGRAM, THE FIVE-SIDED STAR, REGENERATES ITSELF AD INFINITUM.  BY USING THE PENTAGON AS THE BOUNDARY BY WHICH THE NEXT STAR BUILDS ITSELF.  As the hologram has within itself the entire picture of itself, so the pentagram is built of other pentagrams. 

 

                                               

 

                                               

 

THE DIADEM OF PENTAGRAMS.  NOTE, AT THE CENTER IS THE INVERTED PENTAGRAM.  So, the Fallen Star leads the army of upright pentragrams?  THAT IS HOW IT SEEMS. 

 

                                               

 

And the unfallen star leads an army of inverted pentagrams?  WHAT ELSE DO YOU HAVE?

 

                                               

 

 There is some kind of unity at the center of all this.  BOSE RUD, ED RAY OOM BLAY.  Pig blush.  SHOW ME THE IRIS.

 

                                               

 

I don't understand this.  YOU NEEDN'T WORRY.  WE WILL LOOK AT IT AGAIN, LATER.  Is that an emblem of the Sun?  Does hieroglyphic iconography also arise out of geometry?  SUCH A QUESTION!  ARE YOU DAFT, MAN?  WHAT RULERS HAD THEY THEN?  Stabat Mater dolorosa justa crucem lacrimosa, Dum pendebat Filius.  DOLOROSA.  The sad mother on her place of skulls looks up to find her poor boy frozen to the sacred cross, north to south, bleeding from the side, the sky falling down on the world.  AT THE CROSS HER STATION KEEPING STOOD THE MOURNFUL OTHER WEEPING, CLOSE TO JESUS AT THE LAST.  Through her soul, of joy bereaved, bowed with anguish, deeply grieved, now at length the sword hath passed.  O, THAT BLESSED ONE, GRIEF-LADEN, BLESSED MOTHER, BLESSED MAIDEN, MOTHER OF THE ALL-HOLY ONE.  O THAT SILENT, CEASLESS MOURNING, O THOSE DIM EYES, NEVER TURNING FROM THAT WONDROUS, SUFFERING SON.  Who on Christ's dear Mother gazing, in her trouble so amazing, born of woman, would not weep?  WHO ON CHRIST'S DEAR MOTHER THINKING, SUCH A CUP OF SORROW DRINKING, WOULD NOT SHARE HER SORROW DEEP.  For his people's sins, in anguish, there she saw the Victim languish, bleed in moments, bleed and die.  Saw the Lord's Anointed taken; Saw her child in death foresaken, heard His last expiring cry.  IN THE PASSION OF MY MAKER BE MY SINFUL SOUL PARTAKER, MAY I BEAR WITH HER MY PART.  Oh His Passion bear the token, in a spirit bowed and broken, Bear His death within my heart.  AHH!  Such anguish!  SHE IS THERE WITH HIM, STANDING BESIDE HIM, GUARDING HIM AS HE PRAYS.  Yes.  DON'T LOOK HER IN THE EYE.  HER LOOK MAY BLIND YOU.  How much do you know about how a book will turn out when you start writing it?  VERY LITTLE.  I JUST START WRITING.  THE CHARACTER DEVELOPS WITH THE BOOK AND THE BOOK WITH THE WRITING OF IT.  He's sober again!  BROTHER BILLY.  If you have something to say, write.  Use your own style.  The story will choose its own type of telling, its own style.  FLAME ON THE INSIDE; AND FLAME ON THE OUTSIDE.  Is he looking at a candle?  HE IS ALWAYS LOOKING AT A CANDLE.  He's a lion in the garden.  DAMN SOUTHERN WRITERS.  THEY'RE ALWAYS SO SELF-RIGHTEOUS IN THEIR SUFFERING.  I agree.  YES.  Bill Moyer's in his exemplary self-sacrifice.  Climbing up the cross for the sake of racism and the Vietnam war.  NO YOU CAN'T FILL IT ALL FROM YOUR SELF-IMPOSED RACK ON THE WALL.  THE TIGHTER YOU DRIVE THE NAILS, THE HARD YOU'LL FALL.  SO, COME ON NOW, COME OFF IT, SIR, BEFORE YOU GET HURT.  Janus even.  ANUS GIVEN.  New Christ, hipster, cardiac hero of two thousand years past your mind.  She spits at your feet, crying: 'We have no need of a God!  Each of us is his own...!'  YES.  Yesterday's preacher, today's bikini beacher.  HER ASSY.  Hear racey.  HAIR ACEY.  ONE-ELEVEN.  One and Eleven.  CARDS TELL NO TALES UNLESS WEARING FOUR DIFFERENT SUITS. 

 

                                               

 

Foresooth.  SPRING, SUMMER, AUTUMN, WINTER.  Love, Wealth, Conflict, Death.  ASS OF NINE.  Everyman.  Ideas, bones, flesh, clothes.  SOUL, SKIN, FAMILY, TOWN.  Man, Family, Town, Country.  FORESKIN, YOU MEAN?  What are we cutting off, afterall?  The hood?  Because the hood represents secrecy.  The hood represents Death?  WHOYTEBOYCE OF HOODIE HEAD.  K-K-Katmandu.  KILLYKILLKILLY: A TOLL A TOLL.  What chance cuddleys, what cashels aired and ventialted?  C-C-COOME ONE, STICK TO THE SCRIPT!  Man On a Tightrope, Scene 73, Take 12.  ACTION.  What then agentlike brought about that tragoady thundersday this municipal sin business?  Our cubehouse still rocks as earwitness to the thunder of his arafatas but we hear also through successive ages that shebby choruyish of unkalified muzzlenimiissilehims that would blackguardise the whitestone every hurtleturtled out of heaven.  Stay us wherefore in our search for righteousness, O Sustainer, what time we rise and when we take up to toothmick and before me lump down upown our leatherbed and in the night and at the fading of the stars!  For a nod to the nabir is better than wink to the wabsanti.  WHO SAID THAT?  TEN SECONDS.  Da-da-da-da-da-da-da.  Da-da-da-da-dut-da-dut-da-dut-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.  Dut-da-da-da-daa-daaa-daaa-DA-DU.  EYENAL FAYE, OEPARDS JAY, OEPARDS LAY.  Such a handsome man, the Canadian, with his moustache so evenfull, hey.  AXELROD EAVENSTRAIN.  Alex!  Just say Alex!  You Roman wannabe!  SON OF HOKMAH!  Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker is the great hero of Joyce's masterpiece Finnegan's Wake.  HCE is, in fact, Everyman.  Much as is our friend, Crossmann.  WHAT?  The great fact emerges that after that historic date all holographs so far exhumed initialled by Haroumphrey bear the signla H.C.E. and while he was only and long and always good Dook Umphrey for the hunger-lean spalpeens of Lucalizod and Chimbers to his cronnies itwa equally certainly a pleasant turn of the populace which gave him as sense of those normative letters the nickname Here Comes Everybody.  IN ENGLISH, PLEASE.  Of course.

 

8

H

The Great Father

3

C

 

 

 

5

E

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

The Great Mother

12

L

 

 

 

16

P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29

 

 

 

 

 

HERE COMES EVERYBODY.  And ALP, Anna Livia Plurabelle, is Joyce's glyph for the Great Mother, the Female Principle.  HCE IS EQUIVALENT TO MC (MICHAEL CROSSMANN).  Yes. 

 

16

AChZ

He seized, clearved to

 

 

 

 

 

GBVH

Elevated; exalted; high

 

 

 

 

 

HVH

(verb substitute) Injury; war; lust; fell

 

HVA

She

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VY

Alas! -- Woe

 

 

 

 

 

 

ZVG

Like; equal to

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I ASKED FOR ENGLISH ONLY!  Cross-fertilization.  WHAT!  AND THAT MAKES IT OK?  Melting pot.  ARCANE EXPLANATION!  Man's vowel placed inside the Woman's consonant.  VERBUM DEI.

 

29

DKH

Is broken

 

 

 

 

HDK

To break down; overturn

 

What?  THEY'VE STOLEN YOUR CLERICAL ROBES AND YOUR BIBLE'S BEEN THROWN.  YOUR VIRGIN RED CROWN OF THORNS HAS TURNED TO IVORY HORNS. AND YOUR CORNER THRONE HAS NOW BECOME A CORNER STONE.  Sing it out, girl!  ENGLISH ONLY!  What?  IN THIS PLACE, ENGLISH ONLY!  What about Latin?  BEEN LATIN!  WHO HEAR KNOWS LATIN?  ONLY YOUR SWINEY VERSIONS OF LATIN APPEAR.  Circe's magic calendar.  ROSE BROOD, PLAIN AND SIMPLE.  Sue, ye trample the Hyssopus officinalis with the plaint of your tragic calloused broadfoot -- ah, such a dimple.

 

Hebrew

 

 

 

5

H

The Great Father

8

C

 

 

 

5

E

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A

The Great Mother

30

L

 

 

 

80

P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

111

 

 

 

 

 

ROSES BE ROSES.  MOSES BE MOSES.   Does he speak or just plead?  PLEAD OR JUST PLEASE?  Plead or just bleed?  BLEED; OR PLEIADES?  Listen to him.  WHAT?  Key 18 - THE MOON - Venus Acting Through Pisces Upon the Cosmic Elements, The Victory of the Material, The Deceptive Effect of the Apparent Power of Material Forces.  Number 18 implies the exploration of secret realms - a quest that is not without its perils. Number 8 is evolution and leads to 1+8=9, initiation. It can also be enumerated as 6+6+6=18, referring to initiation of not only of the individual but also of the race. Consisting of the digits 1 and 8, which add up to 9, a connection between the Moon and the Hermit is indicated.  In Key 18, we see that there are many hidden things to be learned, even by those who are already advanced on the Path.  Pisces is the most psychic of astrological symbols and the Moon the most psychic of the Tarot cards. Their meanings blend in suggesting a pathway full of temptations as the Fool travels upward on the long journey. The Towers represent the boundaries of the known, and beyond them are the heights of consciousness. They represent the secrets which cannot be penetrated until we have risen beyond them. As a Key of sleep and dreams, the Moon symbolizes the intuitive and psychic work characterized by deep trance or meditation.  The 29th Path is another Path which menaces the traveler with the danger of disintegration -- psychic disintegration because this Path leads to Netzach.  What is indicated here is the renunciation of individuality. The journey from Malkuth to Netzach is the joining of the physical and emotional natures, carrying with it powerful emotional complexes and the balance here is to use "reason" when it is called for. The "shadow" crops up frequently on this Path.  As Path 31 needs to be balanced with instinct and emotion, the 29th Path need to be balanced with intellect and reason. A Path of flux and reflux, the journey of evolution, the 29th path can be experienced in "psychic fertilization" as we experience birth through vibrant Netzach, the Awakener. All paths which proceed toward Netzach are Orphic Paths, resembling the mythical poet, Orpheus, who charmed nature with the gift of song.  Qoph, the letter of this Path, means literally "the back of the head" as the consciousness which shapes bodies. The back of the head is where the medulla

oblongata is located and this is referred to by esoteric traditions as the connecting link between the higher brain centers and the spinal cord and lower centers of the body. It governs respiration, heart movement, circulation, all forms of health maintenance and even carrying on its functions while we sleep.  Interestingly, the activity assigned to Qoph is the function of sleep. The value of the letter q is 100 or 10 x 10 (the number of Sephiroth multiplied by itself) as well as the value of the word Kaleem, vessels or instruments, giving us a clear sense of the relationship of the Divine through its medium of expression, the instruments of the body or corporeal intelligences. Called the Corporeal Intelligence, this is truly a path of body consciousness. One of the most important lessons of this Path, stressed in Qabalah again and again, is that is it not to our advantage to attempt to separate the "higher states of the mind" from the "lower gross" forms of the physical body. If we neglect the body, we neglect the Spirit embodied by the flesh. The aim of the aspirant is to begin where nature left off and go on to perfect the work of evolution -- much in the way the alchemist works with matter. The image of growth is indicated by the word Qoph spelled out which equals 186, the same value as the word mosaph "to increase."  THE TOWERS?  WHAT DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE TOWERS!  Knows is as Knows becomes.  NOSE BE NOSE.  TROTHS BE TROTHS.  Send the boy to his room!  He needs to study his geometry now!  The test of this is so....melancholy-making.  Don't you agree?  AND WE KNOW ABOUT 111, ALP, THE MIGISTRATE OF THE MAMMOFACTORY.  Nipples be Nipples.  Simple and plain.  Narcotics of  the skin.  MATRI MONEY.  NINETEEN BE NINETEEN.  The Lord our God is One.  ONE IN THREE: TELL ME ABOUT THE NUMBERS.  Aleph is a mother letter representing the Element of Air. Its first two letters spell out the word AL or "God," and if we examine the root of Aleph (ALP) we see it combines the idea of God with the letter Peh, the archetype of the mouth or speech. Thus, from Aleph, we get the idea of the Divine Expression of God or the Life Breath manifesting through the element of Air. In Qabalistic Tarot, Aleph means the primary Life-power which moves everything through the power of Breath (Spirit).  PASTE IT DOWN QUICKLY, GREAT DEDALUS THE ARITIFICER.  CUT OUT WHAT ONE MAN SAYS; AND PASTE IT ON TOP OF WHAT ANOTHER MAN SAYS.  Overlapping voices.  LEVELS OF SKIN.  Each sense pasting its impress into the brain, creating a collage of impressions, which the mind interprets, painting a scene through his eyes which approximates the deatils the senses have brought him.  LAYERS OF SOUND, SOME APPEARING AS SHAPES, SOME AS COLORS, SOME AS NOISES, SOME AS PARTICLES OF LIGHT OR FRAGMENTS TOUCHING THE SKIN.  The narcotic of sin.  MOON MUFFIN OF BLUE NYLONG.  Let nothing grieve thee, O Land of Ta, for God hath chosen thee to be the source of the joy of all mankind.  ARMOR IN CAVES; SEE AJAX CURSED BY BONES OF ACHILLES.  Armor in Caves.  Armor in Ca.  Armorika.  Central to the root.  The White Mountain.  In Bora Bora.  WHO HAS BEEN RAISED FROM THE DEAD?  THE DEAD CURSE THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN RAISED FROM THE DEAD.  THE DEAD WANT PEACE; THEY WANT EVERYONE TO BE DEAD.  My trifolium librotto.  I can sing of this all day.  IS THAT WHAT BROUGHT YOU THAT THREE-CORNERED LUCK?  I THOUGHT IT WAS THE MAGIC GLASSES!  THE PRINCIPLE OF TWOS; AND REFLECTION.  Magic numbers, you mean.  LIBER ABACI.  LIBERACI.  The Book of Numbers?  NO, THE BOOK OF COMPUTATION.  Ach.  EGG DUNG.  Achen, Achen: Overthrow the Romans.  THE DEAD WANT TO DESTROY THE LIVING, WANT TO OVERTHROW THE ROMANS.  Leonardo de Pisa.  RENAISSANCE MAN.  Counted numbers zero through nine.  YES, WE KNOW THE HISTORY.  DON'T BEGIN TO FIB, NATURAL MAN.  Didn't they call Jake Crossmann the 'Man of Good Cheer'?  I DON'T REMEMBER THAT.  Bonaccio!  YES, FIBERS COLLECT AROUND THE WARM OPENINGS.  Heir of stress.  DON'T SHAVE OFF THAT BEARD, BEARDED LADY!  BEARDED WONDER!  Comprehending?  Comprehending what?  KRAKATOA KRAVES KRIST.  Next.  LEONARDO'S FATHER WAS A MAN' OF GOOD CHEER, A BONANCCIO; AND LEONARDO BECAME, IN HIS TOWN, FILIUS BONNACIO, 'SON OF GOOD CHEER', OR FIBONACCI.  Fib of Nazis Roman credo.  RE-PHRASE, PLEASE.  Fib: The Nazis rise was directly attributable to their mastery of the theory of numbers?  ANSWER: PARTIAL CREDIT.  So, you are introducing more number theory -- the mystical number sequence of bonbon Fibonacci.   FROM THE ZERO ISSUED THE ONE, THE UNITY.  AND FROM THE UNION OF THE PARENTS OF NUMBERS ISSUED THE SON.  THE TWO NUMBERS, THE MOTHER AND FATHER, ADDED TOGETHER PRODUCE THE THIRD NUMBER, AD INFINITUM.  THAT IS, THE ONE EMANATES FROM THE ZERO.  AND THE ONE REPRODUCES ITSELF THROUGH REFLECTION.  A FLOWER OPENS FROM ITS SEED AND THEN BEGINS SPIRALLING IN TO FORM.  AD INFINITUM.  Add each number to itself and the number preceding it.  0 plus 1 is 1.  1 plus 1 is 2.  1 plus 2 is 3.  2 plus 3 is 5.  3 plus 5 is 8.  WITHOUT END?  Without end.

 

Fibonacci Number Sequence

 

Golden Mean

0

 

1

 

1

1

2

2

3

1.5

5

1.666666667

8

1.6

13

1.625

21

1.615384615

34

1.619047619

55

1.617647059

89

1.618181818

144

1.617977528

233

1.618055556

377

1.618025751

610

1.618037135

987

1.618032787

1597

1.618034448

2584

1.618033813

4181

1.618034056

6765

1.618033963

10946

1.618033999

17711

1.618033985

28657

1.61803399

46368

1.618033988

 

 

Golden Mean: Divide Fibonacci

 number by number preceding it.

 

THIS IS THE FINBONACCI SEQUENCE.  So what!  What does it mean?  What does this mean to me?  LET MOSES SPEAK.  The reader reads the reduct act.  YES.  LET HIM READ THE WRY ATTACK THEN.  LET HIM READ THE IROT TACK THEN.  IROT Nails run in.  PLEASE!  The Fibonacci Sequence actually begins with two terms, zero and unity (0 and 1), nothing and everything, the Unknowable and the mannifest Monad.  These are the first two terms.  Their sum, another unity, is the third term.  To find each next term, just add the two latest terms together.  At first glance, we see a chain of numbers.  But look beyond the visible numbers to the self-accumulating process by which they grow.  The series grows by accruing terms that come from within itself, from its immediate past, taking nothing from outside the sequence for its growth.  Each term may be traced back to its beginning as unity in the Monad, which itself arose from the incomprehensible mystery of Zero.  The principle of ongoing growth-from-within is the essence of the Pentad's principle of regeneration and the pulsing rhythms of natural growth and dissolution.  It appears in plants, music, seashells, spiral galaxies, the human body, and everything associated with the fiveness in nature.  THIS IS A KIND OF VIRGIN BIRTH, IS IT NOT?  THE 1 ISSUING FROM THE ZERO WITHOUT BENEFIT OF THE ONE.  The One issues from the Zero and reproduces itself, a second one.  YES.  IN THIS METHOD.  BUT DOES THIS SAY ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE?  Some insects and microscopic life experience parthenogenisis ('virgin birth'), whereby unfertilized females give birth to males.  But fertilized females always give birth to other females.  The family tree of any bee branches in the accumulative Fibonacci growth rhythm.  And each branch resembles the whole family history.  LET HIM DRAW IT.  What?  HERE, IN THE SNOW.

 

 

Opulent credentials.  Opening up some candelabra in your shower here.  THE TREE BEING REPLICATED IN THE BRANCH.  And also in the leaf.  I DON'T KNOW ABOUT LEAVES.  I SEE NO LEAVES HERE.   Decidedly not, friend.  But if you were seeing leaves.  IF IT THE NUMBERS THEMSELVES, OR OUR PERCEPTION OF NUMBERS?  Thanks for taking me back to Freshmen Philosophy.  IF WOOD FELL FROM THE TREES IN A FOREST WITH NO EARS, WOULD THE VIBRATIONS TRIGGER IN THE NON-EARS IN TREMULOUS SPIRALS IN THE BRAIN, CONVINCING THE SOUL INSIDE THE BRAIN, STANIDNG IN THERE, OZ-LIKE, GENERAL OF IMPRECISIONS, RECEIVER OF EDITED SPASMS OF THE CORPUSCLES AND THE EYES AND EARS AND FINGER-TIPS FROZEN BY THE ICY CONDITIONS OF THE FOREST, THAT, INDEED, THE WOOD HAD FALLEN, THAT THE PIECE OF BARK HAD DISLODGED ITSELF FROM THE OLD SKIN OF OLD MAN TREE, OLD MAN PINE.  Tiger Wood?  PIG METAL?  Dog Air?  DOG EAR.  Oh, you are so precious, with your embellished cadenza of tough fluff, monsignor melody.  MELODY WHAT?  YOU DATED WITH HER WHEN YOU WERE SEVENTEEN.  REMEMBER THE PROM.  YOUR FRIEND'S HOUSE.  CHERRY VODKA.  DRIVING HOME, YOU IN THE BACK SEAT, KISSING MELODY, PUTTING YOUR HAND UP HER SKIRT, TOUCHING HE SOFT WHITE THIGH, BUT NOT REACHING HER SPECTACULAR TRIANGLE.  Melody Sweet, a finger so soft, a pediment so raw.  Were we not young, and you not suspicious of my love, you would have let me play the chord.  Touching the savory instrument that would give rise to song.  HELPLESS BOY.  WITH LESS CRAFT THAN YOU NEEDED.  LESS BRASH CONSISTENCY THAN SHE'D LIKE.  The apple of her eye.  WALKING WE NOW ARE DOWN LANE MEMORY WITHOUT A SHOE.  An empty shoe is a place for a boy to hide.  Das Lied Von Der Erde.  GASSED STAVED MARTYR.  Shoe Bird -- what do you mean?  I'LL HAVE A STRAWBERRY SHOE BIRD, ONE SCOOP, WITH AN AWFUL SCONE.  Show pain and you will shall surely win her.  BEAT EVEN ONE EVIL; AND YOU SHALL SCORE A COUP OR RUN.  Past oral accomplishments would have made that Melody blush.  FANTASY AFTER THE ACT.  Fat felony of the mind's Catholic preface.  BACK UP.  FLAG HER WITH A TONGUE OR TWO, AFTER THE MANNER OF THE FRENCH.  One, two.  One, two.  Up and down.  Side to side.  Let the jaw grow weary.  Let the lips drag slowly.  Incandescent breath.  Honey on the tongue.  Metaphysical onion.  Slip sliding away.  ONE DOOR OPENED IS ONE DOOR CLOSED.  Methinks I hear the organ of love, sipping holiday liqueur in a bandy snifter.  MELODY, MY MELODY.  WHY DIDN'T I TOUCH YOUR PRECIOUS SOURCE OF VEGETATION.  Shy catholic guy.  WHAT KIIND OF FOOL AM I.  WHO NEVER FELL IN LOVE  IT SEEMS THAT I'M THE ONLY ONE THAT I'VE BEEN THINKING OF.  Panther lying on top of ivory.  RECEPTACLES OF RICH FLAVOR.  Harmony undoes all its associations; and then begins to build them back up again.  BON TEMP.  France list of composers: Sadie Berlitz, the pussy all golden and filled with cream; I like to revel in her Mars cells and uncover her fury and her mole here, just above the crater.  FATHER PRADO.  WHY HAVE YOU FORESAKEN ME?  Sister Ludavine: close your eyes and open your mouth.  AND PLUG YOUR EARS.  SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO HEAR WHAT YOUR DON'T WANT TO HEAR.  Storebought matter.  STARBUCKED MUTTER.  Please.  What about those ribbon ixious numbers you brought up?  WHICH?  A baby's hand holding the apple in her eye.  WHAT?  Vague concept.  PASTORAL CASTOR ALL BOTTLED UP INSIDE.  A knife being held by his momentum right up to the eye as well.  PAUSE WHEN YOU CAN, MISTER MOHLE.  Do you hear piano music?  NOTHING LIKE BEE WOVEN AND WOVEN INTO GENEALOGICAL SEA, MISTER TATUG.  Choral Gethsemane?  PARDRONE, MES AMIS.  INDUBITABLE CONSCIENCE RISING TO ACCUSE HIM AGAIN OF ABANDONING HIS MOTHER, HIS BROTHER, HIS FAMILY, HIS BLOOD, HIS ROOTS, HIS NATION, ULTIMATELY HIS FATHER.  Accuse him, then, Jake!  PILE OF TIME.  PILE OF LIGHT.  PILED UP HERE, A LUMP OF LOVE, BEFORE THE NIGHT.  SHAKE A FIST AT HIM; TELL HIM HE MUST DIE.  TIE A ROPE AROUND HIS NECK AND CALL IT MACARONI.  Fanfare for the Common Man.  HARDLY COMMON.  Commonly hardy.  PLEASE.  WE ARE ALL GETTING TIRED HERE.  IF THERE IS SOMETHING WE MUST KNOW, THEN PLEASE TELL US.  One finds the Fibonacci Number Sequence in the genealogy of the male bee, the drone.  One also finds it in the piano keyboard.  The 13-note chromatic musical octave consists of 8 white keys, 5 black keys, arranged in groups of twos and threes comprising one full octave.

 

                                               

 

0

1

1

2

3

5

8

13

 

NATURE'S CADENZA.  He would have you believe that all the flowers in the field have petals in numbers designed to fit the Fibonacci sequence.  WHO WOULD?  Mister Footnote.  OR MISTER NON-FOOTNOTE.  Fontenot, you mean?  SHINE, DEAR.  SHINE ON.  AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ASKING FOR RIGHTS?  IF THE NOTES ON THE PIANO BELONG TO THE NIPPLE FACCI FELLOW, THEN WHO'S TO SAY THE SONGS OF THE FLOWERS IN A MEADOW DON'T BELONG TO...WELL EVEN TO HERR CROSSMANN HIMSELF?  What?  WHO IS TO SAY THAT?  WE ARE NOT LIVING IN A VERY CLEAR WORLD  HERE, DEAR FRIEND --  I MEAN, IT'S NOT REALLY CLEAR, IN A LEGAL SENSE.  Is he stealing it; or is he just borrowing it?  YOU ARE ASKING ME?  Shocks of cove itch.  SCRATCH IT THEN.  My fingers are numb.  HERE, HAVE A DRINK.  I feel like I'm living in a cave on White Mountain, Johnny Mike.  The ice coming down out of the rocks.  Spanning the blackened roof like a tar.  Melting at my feet.  ALLEY OOP.  What?  ALLEY OOP OOP.   OOP.  OOP OOP.  The caveman, you mean?  Very funny.  ALL CAIN DEAD.  Abstract vendetta -- against the bloody-handed handlers of Hor.  AUSSIE, NAY?  Jean Paul Sartre.  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?  Is the lawyer still asleep?  I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY HE IS HERE.  Why are any of us here?  TO ACCOMPANY HIM IN....GOETHE'S SESAME SHAME.  What is he speaking about?  HE'S COLD.  HIS LIPS AREN'T WORKING RIGHT.  Cut and paste.  SCRATCH AND SNIFF.  Dumas man does not pilfer progress from any John John or other.  You should know that by now.  THREE MUST CUT TEARS.  FASTER THAN ONE MUST CUT CONTEXT.  Shame on the predicate boys, sitting here in ice and copulating word-sounds.  PUN SYLVANIANS.  Nose for a two step.  TANTRUM TIME.  Broom stroker.  CARNIVAL IN FRANCE.  Sweep.  Sweep.  CARNIVAL IN ROME.  Creep.  Creep.  CARNIVAL IN SICILY.  Deep.  Deep.  CARNIVORE IN TOWN.  Sleep,  Sleep, child; it is not time to rise yet.  A ROCKET ON THE HEAD OF OLD KARMA.  Snow White.  A ROCK ON THE FOREHEAD OF OLD DHARMA.  Howl, brethren.  Howl.  METASTASIS. 

 

# of petals

Flower

 

 

0

 

1

 

1

 

2

Enchanter's Nightshade

3

Iris, lilies, trillium

5

All edible fruit, delphinium, larkspurs,

 

buttercups, columbines, milkwort

8

Other delphiniums, lesser celandine, some

 

daisies, field senecio

13

Globe flower, ragwort, 'double' delphiniums

 

mayweed, corn marigold, chamomile

21

Heleniums, asters, chicory, doronicum, some

 

hawkbits, many wildflowers.

34

Common daisies, plantains, gaillardias,

 

pyrethrums, hawkbits, hawkweeds

55

Michaelmas daisies

89

Michaelmas daisies

 

Where does he get this stuff?  YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I.  HE GETS THEM FROM THE BOOKS IN HIS BACKPACK.  Where did this guy Moses come from anyway?  HE CAME HERE TO PROTECT CROSSMANN.  DON'T YOU SEE: HE SHOWED UP AS A DEFENDER OF HIS NIBS AT THE GALLERY.  What about the four-leaf clover?  HE'S TALKING ABOUT BREAKING THE LINK.  BREAKING GOD'S LINK.  Those damn Irish.  Wouldn't you know it.  THE FOUR-LEAF CLOVER IS SO RARE AS TO HAVE BECOME ALMOST MYTHIC.  THAT IS, YOU CAN TELL BY LOOKING AT THE IRIISH AND THEIR LUCK THAT THERE AREN'T MANY OF THOSE CLOVERS ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.  Maybe the history of the Irish suggests that their signature vegetation does lie outside the chain of God's thought.  OK, ENOUGH.  I WILL CALL OUT MY PC LAWYER IF ANY FURTHER DEROGATIONS OCCURS TO THE NAME OR HONOR OF THE IRISH.  It's ok to spit on the Irish, but try spitting on...on...anyone else.  SPITTING ON THE WOP IS OK -- ONE THE WASP, I MEAN.  Spitting on the Pope is ok, too.  SPITTING ON THE POPLE IS OK BECAUSE HE'S A WHITE MAN.  IT'S OK TO SPIT ON WHITE MEN.  Yes.  THAT IS A WHOLE OTHER TACK.  Spitting is not the problem really, is it?  Power gets spit on.  It always has -- by those without power.  AND THOSE WITH POWER HAVE OFTEN SPIT UPON THE POWERLESS.  Yes.  SPIT TRAVELS BOTH DIRECTIONS.  THAT'S WHY THEY SAY 'DON'T SPIT IN TO THE WIND'.  I thought that was 'Don't piss in to the wind'.  YEAH, THAT TOO.  Perhaps the psychotic is simply the man or woman with a confused waking and dreaming continuum.  YOU MEAN THAT THEY ARE DREAMING WHEN THE ARE AWAKE AND THEY ARE AWAKE WHEN THEY ARE SLEEPING?  Yes.  OF COURSE, WHAT IS CONVEX TO YOU IS CONCAVE TO THEM.  To whom?  TO THOSE IN THE ANTI-UNIVERSE, THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE.  The ones in the shadow?  WELL, SHADOW IS ALSO RELATIVE.  TO THEM IT IS THE LIGHT.  TO THEM, DARKNESS IS THE LIGHT.  Yes, I see.  To the psychotics.  YES.  By far the most fascinating appearances of the Fibonacci Series in nature are the spirals that can be seen in everything from sunflowers to pine cones to pineapples. We are about to explain that this phenomenon comes not from perfection through evolution (which is, in itself, oxymoronic) but from the dynamics of plant growth. To begin to understand how these spirals come to be, one must go back to the beginning; to where flowers and fruits and seeds start: the apex. The apex is the tip of the shoot of a growing plant. It is the bud on the end of a stem on a tree and the bulb of a flower before it blooms. Around the apex grow little bumps called primordia. As more primordia develop, they are pushed farther and farther from the apex and they develop into the familiar features of a plant, be it a leaf, a flower, or parts of a fruit. Let us consider a sunflower with primordia growing from the center. The first primordia to develop end up being farther from the apex than later primordia. Therefore, it can be deduced from this in what order the primordia appeared. As it happens, if one took the first and second primordia and measured the angle between them with the center of the seed head as the vertex, the angle would be very close to 137.5 degrees.  That angle is very important in describing how primordia form the spirals we see. It is, in fact, known as the golden angle. Here's where the Fibonacci Series comes in. Take two consecutive Fibonacci Numbers and divide the smaller by the larger. Then multiply by 360 degrees. Let's try 55/89 * 360 = 222.472...  We can round that degree measure to 222.5 degrees. Remember from trigonometry that angles can be measured internally or externally, so if you subtract it from 360 degrees to convert it, you get 137.5 degrees, the golden angle.  CAN"T HE PAINT ANY FASTER.  Perhaps Crossmann should be helping him.  DON'T BOTH CROSSMANN WITH THIS -- HE IS PRAYING.  It looks like he's sleeping instead.  I haven't seen him move for an hour or so.  Someone should check to see if he's still breathing.  PERHAPS HE IS FROZEN.  He's ok -- mind your own business!  SSH!  DON"T LOOK HER IN THE EYE -- THAT CAT!  SHE WILL SEND YOUR MIND IN TO A DOUBLE SPIRAL, ONE CLOCKWISE AND THE OTHER SIDE COUNTER-CLOCKWISE!  Parallel anti-verses. EXRA POUND AND T.S. ELLIOT.  Yes -- fighting in the captain's tower.  PAINT!  Yes-- paint faster!  MIX YELLOW OCHRE AND BURNT UMBER TO GET A BRONZE.

 

                                   

 

 

Another appearance of the Fibonacci Series in seedheads such as pinecones and pineapples is that the number of spirals going in each direction is a Fibonacci Number. In the diagram below, there are 13 spirals that turn clockwise and 21 curving counterclockwise.

 

                                   

 

SUGGESTING, IT SEEMS TO ME, THAT EACH NUMBER IN THE FIN DE SIECLE SEQUENCE MIGHT ALTERNATE: ONE BEING POSITIVE AND THE OTHER BEING NEGATIVE.  What?  THAT WAS SPECULATION, OF COURSE.  ONE CLOCKWISE; THE OTHER COUNTER-CLOCKWISE.  THAT IS, ONE NORTHERLY; AND THE OTHER SOUTHERLY.  Go write a doctorate, man!  IT IS SPECULATION!  I SAID IT WAS SPECULATON!  On all sunflowers, the number of clockwise and counterclockwise spirals will always be consecutive Fibonacci Numbers like 21 and 34 or 55 and 34.  I'M NOT SURE THIS IS GETTING US CLOSER TO THE TRUTH, SIR!  Truth!  Look, man!  Look at this seed-head!  The seed-head does not lie!  (Paint, man!  Paint!)

 

                                   

 

SUCH MYSTIFICATION IS NOT TRUTH!  It is an emblem, sir!  An emblem of truth!  THE TRUTH OF WHAT?  Of God's motion!  WHERE IS CROSSMANN IN ALL OF THIS?  WHY HAS HE BECOME SO SILENT?  He is praying, sir -- can't you tell?  CLEARLY, THE FIBONACCI NUMBER SEQUENCE IS NOT GOD'S BREATHING.  EDOUARD LUCAS RAN THE SAME TEST BUT USED A DIFFERENT SEQUENCE, STARTING WITH 2 AND 1 INSTEAD OF 0 AND 1 -- WITH SIMILAR RESULTS.  THE NUMBER SEQUENCE IS NOT UNIVERSAL -- BUT THE GOLDEN MEAN IS THE SAME IN EACH SEQUENCE.  SUGGESTING THAT THE GOLDEN MEAN IS THE UNIVERSAL ELEMENT, NOT THE NUMBER SEQUENCE.  So, this suggests that Nature 'thinks' in numbers other than Fibonacci's.  PHILISTINES.  IT SUGGESTS THAT GOD'S THOUGHT IS THE GOLDEN MEAN.

 

Lucas Number Sequence

 

Golden Mean

2

 

1

2

3

1.5

4

1.666666667

7

1.6

11

1.625

18

1.615384615

29

1.619047619

47

1.617647059

76

1.618181818

123

1.617977528

199

1.618055556

322

1.618025751

521

1.618037135

843

1.618032787

1364

1.618034448

2207

1.618033813

3571

1.618034056

5778

1.618033963

9349

1.618033999

15127

1.618033985

24476

1.61803399

39603

1.618033988

64079

1.618033989

103682

1.618033989

167761

1.618033989

271443

1.618033989

439204

1.618033989

 

 

Golden Mean: Divide Lucas

 number by number preceding it.

 

Philatelist what?  PHYLLIS WHO -- PHYLLIS GEORGE?  Phyllis's teens, I think he said.  ISN'T THAT THAT PORNO MOVIE: BEHIND THE TEEN'S DOOR?  Yes, I've heard of it!  I CAN SEE YOU ARE ALL HUNGRY FOR A LITTLE DISTRACTION.  Dream on White Boy.  White Boy.  Dream on Black Girl.  Black Girl.  Then wake up to find a brand new day.  Find your dreams are washed away.  DREAM ON BLACK BOY.  BLACK BOY.  DREAM ON WHITE GIRL.  WHITE GIRL.  What is: Original Sin.  CORRECT, FOR TWENTY POINTS.  AND THE NAME OF THE BAND.  N X S!  CORRECT AGAIN FOR ANOTHER TWENTY POINTS.  A menacing bionic rhythm married to a slashing guitar hook and topped off with a sexaully-charged melody line.  TALK TALK.  Rolling Stone.  YES.  GATHERING MOSS.  BUT NO POINTS FOR THAT.  Style points.  THAT IS OPEN TO QUESTION.  BUT THAT IS THE FORMULA FOR S-EXCESS IN MODERN ROCK MUSIC, ISN"T IT -- VIOLENCE AND LUST?  Modern rock music?  Is there any rock mustic that isn't modern?  Is there a period of Baroque rock music?  (MUTED LAUGHTER.)  ISN"T THERE?  Doesn't David Bowie qualify?  Perhaps the Thompson Twins?  I SAID BAROQUE, NOT BROKE!  (Muted Laughter).  Bare oak.  SUICIDE BLONDE.  No, that is not the answer we are looking for.  WHAT IS MICHAEL HUTCHENCE AND HIS BELT -- THE INSTRUMENT WITH WHICH HE HANGED HIMSELF?  What!  I didn't know that!  THAT ANSWER IS CORRECT, FOR 20 POINTS.  Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily!  You're kidding!  WHAT?  IS THAT ANOTHER FIBONACCI SPATIAL SPIRAL?  No.  That's an incorrect answer.  TIGER LILY -- ISN'T THAT THE NAME OF THE YOUNG GIRL IN THE MOVIE?  What movie?  PHYLLIS'S TEENS -- ISN'T THAT WHAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT?  Pretty young flower named Electra.  OH, YES, I REMEMBER HER.  Dream on White Boy; Dream on Black Girl.  WHO IS SOPHOCLES?  Yes, for twenty points.  SAPPHO CLEAVES.  What?  SAPPHO CLEAVES.  Are you making an observation; or are you trying to answer the next question brought us here secretly by Rod Steiger reprising his oscar-winning role as the fabulous pun-broker?  CLEAVE IS A STRANGE WORD BECAUSE IT MEANS ONE THING AND IT ALSO MEANS ITS OPPOSITE.  IT MEANS TO SPLIT IN TWO; AND IT ALSO MEANS TO ADHERE OR STICK.  It also mean cloven, as in 'cloven hoof'.  (DEMONIC MUSIC PLAYS, AN ELONGATED ORGAN CHORD.  BELLA LUGOSIE IS SEEN CASTING A HUGE SHADOW IN TO THE GARDEN.  WILLEM DAFOE PLAYING BELLA LUGOSIE.)  Demonic Sappho, you are suggesting.  Lesbianism and demonism.  I know where you are taking this.  NOW SHE SHINES AMONG LYDIAN WOMEN LIKE THE ROSE-FINGERED MOON RISING AFTER SUNDOWN, ERASING ALL STARS AROUND HER, AND POURING LIGHT EQUALLY ACROSS THE SALT SEA AND OVER DENSELY FINE-BONED AND NOTCHED FLOWERED FIELDS, LUCENT UNDER DEW.  HER LEGS SPREAD UNDER ROSES AND TENDER THYME AND THE BLOOMING HONEY-LOTUS.  OFTEN WHILE SHE WANDERS SHE REMEMBERS YOU, GENTLE ATTHIS, AND DESIRE EATS AWAY AT HER HEART.  FOR US TO COME.  Amen.  ROSEY-FINGERED DAWN.  Dawn of Day -- is that who you mean?  WHAT?  You know, Riders of the Herbal Sage.  SOCRATES?  DOES HE MEAN SOCRATES, WHO WAS CALLED BY SEVERAL DRUNKIS IN ATHENS THE HERBAL SAGE.  Purple Sage, I think he said.  I'm sure he said Purple Sage.  BELGRADE.  What?  BIRP. Who is Dawn Lyn who starred in the My Three Sons episode entitled 'Love God'?  NO.  So no one gets that answer right.  NO, THE ANSWER I WAS LOOKING FOR WAS DAWN WELLS, THE ACTRESS WHO PLAYED MARY ANNE IN THE AMERICAN TELEVISION CLASSIC, 'FINNEGAN'S WAKE'....OH, EXCUSE ME, 'GILLIGAN'S ISLAND'.  I ALWAYS GET THOSE TWO NAMES MIXED UP.  At least you are able to still laugh, friend.  BURP.  And resurrect from your aging mind the glory or the spectre of a young lovely in shorts and a halter-top running around an imaginary island in pigtails.  And then to compare Finnegan's Wake and this bizarre, tasteless mock condemy of American television....Joyce, himself, might even enjoy this, in a perverse way.  As he said, he was not writing Finnegan's Wake, but everyone was, every common element in the world -- and no element is quite as common as Gillegan's Island.  GO AHEAD, SING THE SONG.  I KNOW THAT YOU WANT TO.  No, I won't pollute this environment with...  WHY NOT?  WE JUST HAD TO ENDURE A PASSAGE FROM A MEDIOCRE EIGHTIES BAND, NXS.  WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?  The lyrics of that song had a certain esoteric significance, which continues the theme which has been developing throughouot this narrative: Father-Daughter, Mother-Son, Electra, Oedipus.  White Man-Black Woman.  Black Man-White Woman.  The lyric contain something archetypal, whether the songwriter was aware of it or not.  FINE.  WE ARE ARGUING ABOUT NOTHING.  IT'S LIKE ARGUING THAT NATURE OR GOD SPEAKS FULCANNELLI...EH, PARDON ME, SPEAKS FIBONACCI OR NOT?  WHERE DOES IT GET US?  It gets us deeper into the Number Five.  YES, MOSES...BUT.  Moishe.  YES, MOISHE, PARDON ME.  BUT WHERE DOES THAT GET US?  It gets us deeper into the doctrine.  THE DOCTRINE?  WHICH DOCTRINE?  IS THAT WHAT THIS NIGHT IS ABOUJT, THIS BOARD MEETING IN THE ICE?  ABOUT THE DOCTRINE?  I FEEL LIKE THE DAMN KID WHO PRESSED HIMSELF BETWEEN THOSE BIG SLAPS OF ICE DOWN AT TIMES SQUARE.  David Blaine.  YES, DAVID BLAINE.  AND I HAVE TO ASK: SO WHAT?  SO WHAT ABOUT THIS DOCTRINE?  Because it is the largest picture of reality we have.  IS THAT WHY CROSSMANN IS SUFFERING HERE?  FOR THE DOCTRINE?  IS THAT WHY JESUS WAS HANGED UP ON A TREE?  FOR THE DOCTRINE?  Yes.  HOW MANY BOOKS DO YOU CARRY IN THAT BACKPACK OF YOURS?  As many as I need.  DO YOU HAVE MORE THAN ONE HUNDRED?  Less than one hundred.  MORE THAN TWENTY?  What is your real question?  I MEAN, THAT FIBONACCI NUMBER SEQUENCE HAS BEEN PROVEN TO BE A FRAUD: A FIB O' NAZI'S TRULY.  Did the Nazi's use the Fibonacci sequence to their own ends?  I BELIEVE THEY DID.  It is a wonderful symbolism.  But it seems to hit high ground, if every number sequence can do the same thing.  WE SEE ALL THIS VEGETATION FOLLOWING THE FIBONACCI SEQUENCE.  BUT WE QUIETLY LEAVE OUT THE VEGETATION THAT DOESN'T FIT IN TO THAT PICTURE.  THERE MUST BE NATURAL PHENOMENA WHICH FOLLOW THE LUCAS SEQUENCE INSTEAD.  PERHAPS THERE IS SOMETHING INHERENT IN NUMBER WE SHOULD BE LOOKING AT, RATHER THAN THIS FIBBER MC GEE SEQUENCE YOU HAVE BEEN PROJECTING AS A GOLDEN BOUGH.  The Golden Mean.  YES, PERHAPS.  BUT IT IS GETTING LATE.  AND IT'S COLD.  HOW MUCH TIME CAN WE REMAIN HERE, WITHOUT FREEZING?  We can always go in.  WITH ABDULLAH?  Well, he seems quiet.  I haven't heard him utter a phrase of bloody warfare for at least a few, at least some, it's been several spaces surely.  HOW INSANE NEED WE BE?  Simply take either the Fibonacci or the Lucas Sequences and divide one number by the number preceding it.  WHY WOULD ANYONE DO THAT?  WHAT DOES IT TELL US ABOUT ANYTHING?  He is getting cranky.  IN THE SEANCE, WE CAN'T HAVE A DISBELIEVER IN OUR MIDST.  THE NEGATIVE ENERGY WILL DRIVE ANY THE SENSITIVE DAEMON.  Positive energy, you mean.  SEE WHAT I MEAN.  THE OTHER SIDE IS ALWAYS THE CONCAVE SIDE.  THE SIDE THAT APPEARS UPSIDE DOWN.  Appearances.  I appear to be drunk.  Maybe everyone in this garden would consider me drunk.  But I could walk a straight line.  I could drive a hundred miles tonight.  Or budapest a young girl and make her scream like a slippery eel on a cold marble table.  DO YOU SPEAK FROM EXPERIENCE, FRIEND?  Appearances only veil the reality.  Appearances are only a vile veil.  That's it.  IT TELLS US ABOUT ITSELF; BUT IT DOESN"T TELL US ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE.  THIS GOLDEN MEAN, I MEAN.

 

           

 

Are we forgetting that this whole digression is for the purpose of presenting a picture of light falling or condensing gradually in to matter in a coherent manner -- showing that the elements are essentially gods taking on skins -- and that this is the real reason we are here tonight?  God's thought taking on form.  Geometric form.  We have seen it in the molecules.  Molescules that take on cubic or hexagonal form.  Which become everything we see and touch and smell and taste around us.  Everything geometrical, not at its source, which is chaotic.  But after its source.  After the chaotic source is breached; and gives birth to order.  We are speaking about chemical elements, are we not?  Classical chemical elements.  We really should not forget this.  THE CONDENSATION OF LIGHT INTO MATTER -- LIGHT, ESSENTIALLY, FALLING INTO STONE.  AND THE SUBSEQUENT RISE UP OUT OF ROCK INTO THE MORE MOBILE FORMS OF MATTER: VEGETATION AND ANIMAL AND MAN.  RISING, ESSENTIALLY, OUT OF STONE BACK TOWARD LIGHT.  Out of the black stone perhaps.  YES.  VULCAN ALLEY.  OUT OF BLACK STONE AND LAVA.  Building.  BY 1.618 OR 1.62.  The decimals get longer and longer, like a thirsty tarroot reaching for the infinite that beckons it onward.  The farther out you go int ht Fibonacci sequence, the more precise the result becomes as it hones into the ideal.  BUT IT IS NOT THE FIBONACCI SEQUENCE.  I THOUGHT WE ESTABLISHED THAT.  START WITH ANY NUMBER.  START WITH 7 AND 5.

 

7

 

5

0.71428571

12

2.4

17

1.41666667

29

1.70588235

46

1.5862069

75

1.63043478

121

1.61333333

196

1.61983471

317

1.61734694

513

1.61829653

830

1.61793372

1343

1.61807229

2173

1.61801936

3516

1.61803958

5689

1.61803185

9205

1.6180348

14894

1.61803368

 

Two things cannot be rightly put together without a third; there must be some bond of union between them.  And the fairest bond is that which makes the most complete fusion of itself and the things which it combines; and proportion is best adapted to effect such a union.  SO WROTE PLATO.  And others, after him, agreed.  PROPROTION.  The Whole divided by the Large Part is equal to the Large Part divided by the Small part.  THE LARGE PART BEING 1.618 TIMES LARGER THAN THE SMALL PART.

 

Small

Large

Whole

 

 

 

1

1.618

2.618

2

3.236

5.236

3

4.854

7.854

4

6.472

10.472

5

8.09

13.09

6

9.708

15.708

7

11.326

18.326

8

12.944

20.944

9

14.562

23.562

10

16.18

26.18

 

The five-pointed star, the pentad and pentagram, are filled with Golden Mean relationships.

 

           

 

And this is the basis of the Macrocosm-Microcosm idea.  THE MACROCOSM IS 1.612 TIMES THE SIZE OF THE MICROCOSM?  Are we attempting to measure God with this caliper now?  I THINK NOT.  Is this some kind of blasphemy you are speaking?  IDEAS.  MERELY IDEAS.  DESCRIPTIONS OF REALITY.  NOT REALITY ITSELF.  The classical mind.  Where order is everything.  ORDER ISSUING FROM DISORDER.  Patriarchal Order; followed by Fraternal Disorder.  YES.  IS SEE YOU HAVE DISCOVERED THE ERRATA OF THE BROTHERHOOD.  Who is Norman O. Brown?  PLATO AS OPPOSED TO ARISTOTLE.  The fraternity, the brothers, conspire with the mother to kill the father.  The fraternal is a confederacy of equals, rebelling against the father's hierarchical rule.  The fraternals (sometimes under the misnomer 'Matriarchy') speak of equality, liberty, and sexual freedom.  A FRATERNITY OF MEN SEEKING SEX AND WARFARE.  Drugs and violence.  WOMEN ARE FREE SO THE MEN CAN ENJOY THEIR SEXUAL LICENSE.  The women become the property that the sons did not inherit from their fathers.  AND HOMOSEXUALITY APPEARS.  Yes.  WHO IS NONORMAL O. BROWN?  We are, are we not, like strangers wandering through a cave?  Strangers in a labyrinth?  FRATER FRATER, SON OF MATER.  In a cave with the killer?  In the White Mountains too, hunting and being hunted.  Hunting ourselves and hunting our.  OUR WHAT?  Just down the street from your hotel, baby; I stay alone, at home, with my disease.  ARMED WITH SOMETHING.  He looks like he's sleeping.  NO, PRAYING.  Seed-bound.  HARMONIOUS CRAVING.  A cave, a rock, a tree, deadly and poisonous.  SERPENTINA SAPIENTIA.  The cave is grave; the womb is tomb.  THE TWO BROTHERS IN AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINE TOTEMIC MYTHS HAVE TWO FUNCTIONS: TO WANDER FROM PLACE TO PLACE AND TO INITIATE YOUNG MEN; AND HAVE THEIR WANDERINGS IMITATED IN THE BUSH BY NEWLY-CIRCUMCISED YOUNG MEN.  The seed is a dry sealed packet of solid matter.  WHO IS BROWN O. NORMAN?  Mix yellow and red and blue and you get brown.  YES.  The mazes in medieval europe, called 'Walls of Troy', were the scene of dancing games called 'The Game of Troy': the spiriline penetration of the maze to win the game and capture a maiden.  CONVERSATIONS ON A DYING AGE.  Man Ron Brown.  IN A CAVE WITH A CRAZY ARAB.  What is that telling us about life?  A PLANE FALLING FROM THE SKY.  What is that telling us about life?  NOUMENOUN.  Phenomeverb.  YOU MAY HAVE YOUR REASONING DISTURBED, FRIEND.  IT MAY BE: NOUMEVERB AND PHENOMENOUN.  Parallel yoniverses.  EACH APPEARING CONVEX TO THE OTHER SIDE.  UPSIDE DOWN.  Appearances.  INITIATION IS RE-BIRTH.  Oh, Brownthers.  WHERE, O WHERE ART THOU?  Joyce Joyce -- Brothers Brothers.  HE SPITS AT YOUR FEET CRYING 'WE HAVE NO NEED OF A GOD!  EACH OF US IS HIS OWN!'  Songster.  WRONGMENSTER.  Oh, you must have a cross but they've taken you, God, and shot you filled with dead.  So following New Christ, pick upon on a cycle inste -  eeeee - eeeee - eeeee - eeed.  GEOMETRY IS THE BODY OF THE MOTHER.  We eat the body of the Father-Mother; we eat ourselves.  BURROWING IN ON OURSELVES.  Digging in the Dirt.  Find the places we got hurt.  Digging in the Dirt.  MUD.  MUDGIVINGS.  EARTH AND WATER MIXED.  CREATING THE HUMAN SOUL.  THE SEED HIDDEN IN THE MUD, WAITING FOR THE SUN TO WAKE IT UP.  The poet sees everything.   THE BLIND MAN SEES BEST.  In a right triangle, the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides.  A2 + B2 = C2.  I don't understand the relevance of that here.  BECAUSE THE NUMBER 12 IS THE MOST DIVISIBLE SMALL NUMBER, EVENLY DIVISIBLE INTO HALVES, THIRDS, QUARTERS, AND SIXTHS, PYTHAGORAS BELIEVED IT TO BE THE IDEAL MUSICAL NUMBER; AND IT WAS FROM THESE IDEAS AND OBSERVATIONS THAT THE TWELVE TONE MUSIC SYSTEM WE TAKE SO MUCH FOR GRANTED DEVELOPED.  Janus, I am not a collage professor; I have told you before I am a collage clark.  BIKINI BEACHER; BIKINI PREACHER.  Usurpation is not necessarily suspiration.  THAT IS A GIVEN.  Robbing someone is not necessarily burrowing someone.  TIE SON WEAR; SPEAK AND MIKE IN TO.  Pard on aye mwa?  ESCHATOLOGICAL VARIANCE.  Wrecked tome.  Wrecked with anal hand-holding.  Refusing to squat.  WHAT IS LITERARY COLLAGE, MISTER LOCKE?  Bowl.  WHAT?  Howl.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  Towel.  CAN'T YOU EVEN SAY THE WORD?  Paste.  CUT AND PASTE?  You are under arrest, Mister Dye.  A REAL MASTER MASTER'S MASTERS.  A cloth cut by too many hands becomes a dust rag.  ARCHETYPES RESOLVE IN TO ARK TYPE.  Childish montage.  GUILTY.  Guilty of....play...plague...jurism!  (HOW HARD IT IS TO UTTER THAT WORD.)  My client plieds innoncent, your honor.  WHAT?  Innocent by reason of inanity.  INANITY IS NO DEFENSE.  You haven't meant my client, Judge Brink (wagging his cigar indecently, one wage, second wag; eyes blinking; Ceausescu immitating Groucho Marx; waiting for the judge to laugh).  I PAY HOMAGE TO THOSE WHO DIED HERE IN THESE STREETS IN 1989 FOR FREEDOM.  Sadness left; giddy rite.  THE SOULLESS BRAIN PAYING HOMAGE TO THE BRAINLESS BODY.  Before the cock crows you will deny me three times.  Petrovsky.  BUILD THE NEW CHURCH ON THIS ROCK, THIS SEED, BROTHERS.  Mark the spot with a X.  MEXCALCULATION.  In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Coast.  REMARKABLE MARK; UNLUCKY LUCAN; MALTHUSIAN MODEL; JOHN THE PAWN LYING ON THE LAWN.  Johnny Mike is reading in the yard.  History's timing, oh, oh, oh.  X(i+1) = (1+r)X(i).  POP, YOUR UULATION IS NOT BALM TO YOUR SENSE OF FAILING.  Are you famous yet?  Have you been on the news?  ONLY IN MY PHANTASMS.  Eggburst, eggblend, eggburial and hatch-as-hatch-can.  SULLEMN FULMINANCE, SOLLEMN NUPTIALISM, SALLEMN SEPULTURE AND PROVIDENTIAL DIVINING.  Suleiman thunderstrucksense,  soleman marryingage, salmon buryingroundritual and deitonic diningdate.  ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR.  Contemplari.  Contemplari.  IMMOBILIARI. IMMOBILIARI.  The alphabet is a democratic triumph.  BRONZE MAN.  Thus from the Egyptians, who twitted the Greeks for being always chidlren and knowing nothing of antiquity, he takes and puts to use two great fragments of antiquity.  One of these is their division of all preceding  times into three ages: (1) the age of the gods, in which the gentiles believed they lived under divine governments, and every thing was commanded them by auspices and oracles, which are the oldest institutions in profane history; (2) the age of heroes, in which they reigned everywhere in aristocratic commonwealths, on account of a certain superiority of nature which they held themselves to have over the plebians; (3) the age of men, in which all men recognized themselves as equal in human nature; and, therefore, there were established first the popular commonwealths and then the monarchies, both of which are forms of human government.  The other thing he took from the Egyptians is their reduction of the languages spoken before their time to three types, coeval respictively with the three ages.  First, the divine, a dumb lanugae of hieroglyphics or sacred characters.  Second, the symbolic, consisting of metaphors as the heroic language did. Third, the epistolographic or vulgar, consisting of expressions agreed upon for the everyday uses of life.  First the Age of the Gods; then the Age of the Heroes, then the Age of Men.  It is a cycle of decline, as in Plato's Republic.  Doctor Covi writes: Men first feel necessity; then look for utility; next attend to comfort; still later amuse themselves with pleasure; thence grow dissolute in luxury; and finally go mad and waste their sustenance.  AND INHERITANCE.  Dissolute is as Dionysius does.  THE SOUL INSIDE THE CORN.  Liquinheritance.  QUIMQUINHERITANCE.  Dance in spirals.  Dance in spirals.  RAISE YOUR SKIRT.  Dance in spirals.  WHAT ARE YOU BUILDING HERE, OLIVER JACK?  What?  WHAT ARE YOU BUILDING HERE -- A BEANSTALK?  Mayhaps you are right.  MAYPOLE YOU ARE RITUALLY GORED.  Speak more slowly.  ARCH ARCH ARCH.  THE TITAN IS MADE OF STARCH.  The Decalogue's a Decalogue.  MOUNTAIN OF SIN, COME DOWN.  BRING DOWN NEW LAWS WRIT ON STONE.  Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.  OREGON.  OREGON.  Lion of God.  Lion of God.  PATRIARCH OF NONPAPAL ALEXANDRIA.  Protest Auntie.  Protest Auntie.  BURKA.  BURKA.  Origen's writings were so much drawn upon that the solitary of Bethlehem called it plagiarism, furta Latinarum.  SOULEYMAN KILLS HIS BROTHER, OPRAHIM.  High Pure Text.  HPT.  Hypnotic Embrance. HE.  Here Everyone Comes.  DIRTY LITTLE MIND.  DLM.  Display Like Mike.  DEBATE LIKE MEANDER.  Walking in his maze.  AMAZED, THE MALE PERPLEXED.  Pertext is like context.  Per is through or by means of; or according to.  According to text.  In chemistry, per- refers to a compound that includes an element in its highest state of oxidation.  Per-text.  Hyper is over or beyond.  Hypertext would be above the highest state of oxidation; or higher than the highest according to.  Con- is that which is against something.  Con-text is that which is against text.  Against the written word.  INTERESTING ARGUMENT, MISTER SOLICITOR.  AND THAT PERTAINS TO YOUR CLIENT IN WHICH SENSE?  We intend to call Michael Joyce as a witness for the defense.  MICHAEL JOYCE.  I DON'T KNOW HIM.  Of course not.  If you did, sir, this whole issue would have been settled by a writ of habitual corpus, your honor.  PROPORTION, SON.  DON'T FORGET PROPORTION.  In my personal behavior, you mean?  YES.  BUT ALSO IN YOUR CREATIONS.  (Spoken like a good Greek.)  THE STAFF THAT CLEAVES THE WATERS IS THE DEAD MAN'S BODY, THE CORPSE.  The woman penetrated is the labyrinth.  You emerge in to another world inside this woman.  The penis is the bridge; the passage to another world is coitus; the other world is a womb-cave.  FORNICATE FROM FORNIX: AN UNDERGROUND, VAULTED ARCH.  The Sky descends into Mother Earth, ejaculating his powers, suffering castration. 

 

                                   

 

THE GOLDEN RECTUM -- UR, THE GOLDEN RECTANGLE.  I see.  AND FROM THIS, THE GOLDEN SPIRAL.  The spiral?  YES.  SPIRALS ARE THE PUREST EXPRESSION OF MOVING ENERGY.  WE SEE SPIRALS EVERYWHERE.  SPIRALS SHOW UP AS THE PATHS OF MOVING ATOMS AND ATMOSPHERES, IN MOLECULES AND MINERALS, IN FLOWING WATER, IN THE GROWTH OF PLANTS TURNING AROUND A STEM, IN ANIMALS AND HUMAN BEINGS, AND IN THE GREATER BODIES, SUCH AS GALAXIES, OF OUTER SPACE.  LIKE THE PENTAGRAM STAR, THE SPIRAL EXPRESSES THE GEOMETRY OF SELF-SIMILARITY.  WHEREVER YOU FIND A PENTAGON, YOU'LL FIND A SPIRAL ROLLED WITHIN IT.  I'm not sure what this has to do with me.  SPIRALS GROW BY SELF-ACCUMULATION.  EVERY SPIRAL HAS A CALM EYE.  THE CLASHING OF OPPOSITES RESOLVE INTO A SPIRAL BALANCE.

 

                                   

 

I see there is a normal spiral; and a Fibonacci spiral.  YES.  I thought we had decided to relieve the Fibonacci Sequence of its pre-eminent position in number accretion.  HAD WE?  Didn't we show that any number sequence accumulated around the golden mean?  I thought that essentially de-nuded Fibonacci's sequence of any claim to notoreity.  A SELF-GENERATING SPIRAL ACCUMULATION; NOTHING ABSORBED FROM THE OUTSIDE.  Emanating from a seed.  YES.  Do you ever get the feeling that we are burrowing now, burrowing deeper and deeper into the ground, into the Earth, seeking our mother again, rolling ourselves tighter and tighter into a packet of dense matter -- yes, a seed, ourselves?  Do you ever get the feeling that we are planting ourselves in this dark Earth, this dark matter, with the intent of being able to give birth to ourself again, when the moment for movement comes?  Spiralling down, deeper into the Earth, planting ourselves; so that we can spiral back up out of the depths of this darkness, a walking plant, coming up out of the mother who gives us live, and then kills us all, dear gravity that she is.  AHH, THE SPIRAL: IS IT NOT, ITSELF, THE LABYRINTH WE SPEAK OF?  THE LABYRINTH WE PENETRATE INTO?  The last remnant of rationalism.  AHH; AND NONE SO SOON EITHER SHALL THE PHARCE FOR THE NUNCE COME TO A SETDOWN SECULAR PHONISH.  Sexular Finnish?  EXEMPLAR PHOENISH.  Ahh, yes.  WITH SHITE NEAR HOLDING A COMPASS AND TEMPLATE-- THIS DIMINSHES THE SCENTS OF WOE AND SNOW PROVOKES SOME COMRADE CAMOUFLAGE.  Such a shy dear, ministress of nwage.  CALLING IN THE DARK.  Kalling in the Darc.  KRAD EHT NI GNILLAC.  Counter Counter.  Counter Erutluc.  NWAGING NWAR ON NMAILER IMAGES.  Aunt Rex, darning a dun dung beetle deftly darkly on deadrick's dragonfly durtleneck.  DAMN!  Is he his own darker image?  RUNNING ROUGHSHOD IN THE RATTERSDAM ROAD?  Backward?  DRAWBACK.  Backdraft?  DAFTTRACK.  Shoes.  DRAMAMINE, PLEASE.  Why, are we floating?  SPIRALLING INTO THE FETAL POSITION.  Hardening into the rock.  SPUTEM.  Mute spasm.  HORNEY IN THE ROCK.  La la la la.  SPASMODIC COMET.  Spiralling out of test-test-testees.  I'M GOING TO COME OUT AND TEST YOUR TICKLE.  Mama says.  MOTHER OF MONUMENT.  The rock inside the honeycomb.  MOON MONACLE.  Bach Bach Boxer Beta.  ANNA MAGDELENA.  ANNA CUM NINA.  Bleeding in the cave.  HORTICULTURAL NATIVITY.  The clock mocks talkers.  The clock shocks mockers.  The clock outfoxes the cocks.  BLOOD ON A MIDDLE FINGER.  Did you prick yourself?  YES, IN A SENSE OF THE WORD.  Fear of what?  Fear of the mother's what?  THE GROUND?  SUFFOCATION?  Innovation constellation.  YO-YO MA.  Dang me, Dang me; They oughtta take a robe and hang me; high from the highest tree; woman would you weep for me?  MA MA YO.  Oy.  Oy am I am.  Ma'am.  NOTED.  Oprah's page.  THE FLOWER'S GATE.  Beardsley's fragrance.  NO, NO FANTASY IS ALLOWTED HERE.  Pink stink.  Pink shringk.  CORAL MORAL.  Mother's brother.  'NOTHER 'NOTHER.  Lucky-go-happy.  PHUCKY-GO-SAPPY.  Pinecone. Pinecone.  THE SPIRAL PYRE.  THE SERIAL IMPERIAL.  Talking franchise.  IN THE NORTHERN HEMISPHERE, HIGH PRESSURE ZONES -- POSITIVE WEATHER SYSTEMS, GOOD WEATHER -- TRAVEL AS CLOCKWISE SPIRALS; LOW PRESSURE ZONES -- NEGATIVE WEATHER SYSTEMS -- TRAVEL AS COUNTER-CLOCKWISE SPIRALS.  THE REVERSE IS TRUE IN THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE.  Moneyverse and anti-Moneyverse.  IN THE SOUTH, THE POSITIVE IS COUNTER-CLOCKWISE; AND THE NEGATIVE WEATHER IS A CLOCKWISE SPIRAL.  Red Cross.  Spread Moss.  MOTHER OF ORIGINS.  MOTHER WHO IS EARTH.  Red Crosscendo.  BLOOD IN THE HOLY CAVE.  Scored burial.  SENSATE REPLICATE.   And Senate replicant.  SATANIC REPUDIANT.  Jesuit.  Jesuit.  SPIRE, SIR.  SPIRE, ALL.  Begin with the Golden Rectangle; and move backward back in to the square.  Then take the next rectangle; and find the square in it.  Do this again and again.  The Golden Rectangle contracts, turns to the inside.

 

                       

 

And the spiral unwinds from the Golden Squares by connecting the centers of each square, the inner corners, or the outside corners.  THE SPIRAL IS HIDDEN IN THE GOLDEN SQUARE.  WHICH IS HIDDEN IN THE GOLDEN RECTANGLE.  WHICH IS HIDDEN IN THE PENTAGRAM.  WHICH IS HIDDEN IN THE PENTAGON.  The powers of regeneration.  FIVE.  WE ARE AT FIVE AGAIN.  AREN'T WE, SIR!  Father, Mother, Son, Daughter, Son.  THIS IMAGE SUGGESTS THE COLLAPSE OF THE UNIVERSE UPON ITSELF, WITH THE GRAVE POINT, THE CENTER, MOVING IN SEQUENCE BACK AND BACK INTO THE MINUTE, PULLING MATTER BACK INTO A CORE WITH IT.  Contraction and Expansion.  I SEE ONLY CONTRACTION HERE, SIR.

 

                                   

 

And replication by the square.  By the square and by the square.  Building with the elements.  OH, ROBBING SONS CRUDE SOLELY.  Lo', all your disciples have reclaimed their rifles and taken the cure.  DO NOT CURSE THINE OWN 'OUSE, SON.  IN THE NAME OF TROTH, DO NOT CURES THY NOUN SOUSE, ZONE.  A drunken man turning on a spit.  WE ARE ALL OUT OF OUR MINDS!  OUT OF OUR MINDS!  In nomine Matrie, et Terrarium, et Insipidate, A'men.  THE SQUARE ON THE OUTSIDE EXPANDS THE WORLD; THE SQUARE ON THE INSIDE SHUTS IT DOWN.  How unsivalived!  I kid usery brondy myshelf, Hipplebottom.  RANDY ROSE ERECTION.  I ave e'en say eat tay ace Faye.  Em em eneray!  Hang zit tiz eye!  Barbara Aryan.  HUNT, KAYE.  ACHE RAY TIT OUVER DAY.  Minion.  O' MANION.  For the Clearer of the Air from on high has spoke in tumbludum tambaldam to his tembledim tombaldoom worrld and, muoguphonoised by that phonermanon, the unhappitents of the earth have terreumbled from firmament unto fundament and from tweedledeeddumms down to twiddledeedees.  WHAT THE THUNDER SAID.  DNA.  DNA.  The Thunderer is sex teen.  BEHIND THE BARBER TEEN'S DOOR.  THE GREEN THUNDERER IN HIS OILY SKIN.  Beau hunkian?  THE WORSED.  Versed in troubled ore.  SINGING IN THE SANE VOIDS OF PIERRE FORESKIN.  Moil, Moil, torse and bubble; troil the traynde and burbst the stubble.  HIP, HIP, CHIMPUNZEE!  O YOU LONGTAILED BLACKMAN, POLK IT UP BEHIND ME!  HIP, HIP SHEMPANSIE!  JESSIES PUSH THE PLUMPSKIN 'ROUND, THE PUMPKIN 'ROUND, THE PIMPSIN 'ROUND; JEZZIES PUSS THE POMPSKUMS ROUND, MY AIR FAILIE!  Riotact.  Riotact.  EVEN SKEIN.  Riotact. Riotact.  ROMULUS AND RUMPUS.  Tieadact.  Diettact.  RUMPLE US AND RAMP US.  The proprietor is face down on the floor, suspiring in his own...ommit vaye oom fayes.  RIOTACT.  RIOTACT.  Homo lost and homo oppulence ream us. THERE ARE ALWAYS ONLY TWO BOTHERS: RUMPLE US AND RAPE US, KEEN AND APPLE, OSSIFEROUS AND SED; AND ONE OF THEM REDRUMS THE OTTER.  OR AT HER, THEY BATH ACCURSED EVE'S OTHER PLOVER PROUD AS PRUNELOVERS.  Here, let me read that!    DAM!  Simple sot!  TOSSED SIMPLETON SALAD!  They both accuse the other of fratricide and put each other to death for the crime; as the Christian identifies the Jew with Cain, for having killed Christ, and accordingly punishes the Jew with crucifixion.  The mutual relations of the brothers re-enact the primal scene, the cannibalistic intercourse, and the primal crime, the dismemberment.  The brothers are brothers to dragons, dragon seed sown (Spartoi); that comes up as young men armed for a Pyrrhic dance in which they mow each other down.  All fraternity is fratricide.  ALL MATERNITY IS MATRICIDE.  All Paternity is Patrick's Pride.  DIS-NUMBERING THE ONE.  The Own, you mean.  Prounonce it with a lone O.  One as in Lone.  THE REASON FOR THE CIVIL WAR THAT DESTROYED THE ROMAN REPUBLIC IS THE ONE GIVEN BY HORACE.  FOR THE REALITY OF POLITICS, WE MUST GO TO THE POETS, NOT TO THE POLITICIANS OR POLITICAL HISTORIANS....AND I QUOTE: 'THE TRUTH IS THAT AVENGING FURIES PLAGUED THE ROMANS; AND THE GUILD OF FRATICIDE, EVER SINCE THE EARTH WAS SOAKED WITH INNOCENT REMUS'S BLOOD, A CURSE ON HIS POSTERITY.'  More hawk navalled hole Sue; or show Sonny his hard wrap and hoe.  THE FRATRICIDE WHICH KILLED THE ROMAN REPULBIC WAS ONLY THE FINAL FULFILLMENT OF THE SYMBOLIC AND ATTENUATED FRATRICIDE WHICH HAD BEEN ITS LIFE.  ROMAN LIBERTY -- THE FRATERNITY CARVED OUT OF THE CADAVER OF ROYAL DESPOTISM -- IS DESPOTISM DIVIDED AND SET FOREVER AT WAR WITH ITSELF.  Snatch.  WHAT?  Snatch.  OH, GOODANDTIGHT.  You're welcome.  O YOU LONGTAILED BLACKMAN, PORK IT UP BETIMED ME.  There is reflection, or rather recurrence, of the archetype in the institution.  Remus jumped over his brother's wall; and his brother killed him, saying: 'So perish whoever else shall leap over my battlements.'  As we can see in any playground; or in Berlin.  ICH BIN EIN MERLINER!  Gog bleds some error, man.  Or some Swede's comb.  Gog blends some merit, man.  Our stone seems gone.  WHAT?  Bela red taurian.  I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR LOWER EASTSIDE ACCENT, SIR.  OR ISADORA'S LONG RED ARF ARF SKAY, WITH A PINKISH HUE.  AND DON'T SING ME NO MORE GODDAMN SONORITIES.  I WANT FIGURES!  WAR PRODUCTION FIGURES, ISAIAH!  The man is drunk.  A DRUNK'S COLLAR.  A damn drunk bulldog on a wind stone church hill.  ALL IS UNDER 'IS RUGTYPE BUND.  Eyes dreaming of a pipe mistress: everywhere is gold.  RUMPLED SPLIT SKIN.  TWO-FINGER METHOD.  Moyle!  DAMN MOYLE.  HE CIRCUMSIZED MY FINGER!  THE MOYLE CIRCUMCISED MY FINGER!  Mulva!  Mulva Hill Herringbone.  NO, IT'S DOLORES!  I'm not sure, but it looks to me like a....a nipple!  SOUL STISTER!  SOUL STISTER!  When I say it's in the vault, I mean it is in the vault!  TWEEK PIN BIND AND SIN HER.  I haven't vomited in thirteen years!  PEEK; AND HIND IN HER PUT IT FASTER, BASTARD!  Oh, it is in the vault.  It is in the vault.  BUDROUGE.  BEDRUDDER.   BEDWEDDER.  BUDRUSSIAN.  Merlinrouge: the man in ice.  I SLEPT WITH ELAINE LAST NIGHT.  Now you listen here, Mister Bedrosian -- and you listen good!  I want details!  And I want them now!  FLINTSTONE, MEET THE FLINTSTONES, HAVE A YABBADABBADOO TIME, WE'LL HAVE A DEW TIME, WE'LL HAVE A GAY OLD TIME!  Buttrock.  BURIED IN MUD.  Bedrock.  BEDROSIAN.  Maggie, bend over.  I don't recognize you from this perspective.  WOLF WOLF!  Ahh, yes.  This is more to your likeness.  OH, YES!  SOMA AMONG THE ARMENIANS!  AMANITA MUSCARIA!  SPARE A PARAPETFISSURE!  OH, DIACRITIS!  I love it when you call me names.  DIACRITIS!  PERIPATICIAN!  You spake the linguage of pair of fine nails in ya.  RUMBLE US CULLED DREAM US AND THE HOLE WAY OLD WAS TURNED.   Bllllllllllllllaaaat.  Bllllllllllllllaaaat.  EX CAUSE YOUR SLAVE, MISTER HYDROGIUM!  Ginza Gouda.  GINZA GOUDA.  Helium.  NASTURTIUM.  Common salt or sodium chloride (NaCl) is actually a little more democratic than brother lithium chloride.  The sodium atoms are bigger and can exert more influence than can the tiny lithiums.  The structure of sodium chloride (or salt) should then be regarded as cubic packing of almost equal spheres.  But, in practice, these democratic considerationss do not change the actual structure: sodium ends up in the same position as poor lithium.

 

                                               

 

DON'T LET HER HEAR THAT YOU ARE CALLING HER OCTAHEDRAL -- BECAUSE SHE HAS HOLES!  Who?  NIPS!  SHE'LL HAVE A COW!  Quite a flower, that one!  WHAT?  OH, YES.  Yes.  ELAINE.  As well as octahedral holes in the CCP structure, there are also tetrahedral holes.  In structures such as that of the zinc sulphide (ZnS) mineral zinc-blende, the Zn atom prefers to occupy these tetrahedral holes, where it is surrounded by only four S-atoms.  Note that only half of the tetrahedral holes are occupied in ZnS, whereas all of the octahedral holes are occupied in NaCl.

 

                                               

 

Again it is possible to draw the co-ordination polyhedrae aroudn zinc, but in this case it may be better to emphasize the actual bonds between the Zn and S atoms, using a so-called ball and stick model.  As well as CCP cubic close-packing ABCABC of the large anions as in zinc-blende, we might alternatively expect to find HCP hexagonal close-packing ABAB in some materials.

 

                                               

 

HCP packing of oxygen anions (red) produces the ZnO wurtzite structure of zinc oxide.  Notice that the co-ordination of Zn is still tetrahedral.  Because there is little energy difference between the two types of structures, we can have more complex packing arrangements such as ABC, AB, ABC... which results in a whole series of polytype structures.

 

                                               

 

WHERE DID THAT GASBAG COME FROM?  Ginsburg Street, Rockingham, Pennsylvania, originally.  OH.  I SEE.  IT'S LIKE THAT.  The moutain above is the cave below.  CAVELINEAR FUNCTION.  Precisely.  IF COCK IN THE CUNT EQUALS COCK IN THE ROCK; THEN, CUNT IN THE ROCK EQUALS?  Tids of hard iron.  OUGHT TO HAND IRON HARD IRON.  Pint of gram, please.  DID A COLD HADRON.  Burp.  'NOTHER SHOT OF MAGIC ROT?  Where Id was, there shall ego be.  It is reclamation work, like draining the Zuyder Zee.  PLEASE ME, MAGIC SPECS.  Hectagon close-packing.  HECTARE FOR THE FAIRIE.  Regional microscope, buried in tar.  FAR TIMES TO RUE DARK PAUPERS, SIR.  Dq4k Pauperteers.  HANDS MOVING BEHIND THE GLASS STRUGGLE.  Class struggle; lass struggle.  MACAWBRE INVENTION; A HEEP OF BAD RAKMA.  Black racked ma dabs for Phoenix extention detention.  FACSIMILE OF FRIGHT.  Fascistification of right.  DABBLE DABBLE DO.  Rob all us; and cream us.  WILLIAM CLARK; AND G.R. CLARK.  Founders of frequency.  Broadders by birthplates.  HOBBLED BY HORROR; HORRIFIED 'TO HONOR.  Honer of the white bone into ivory.  EYE FOR THEE.  Atomology.  EQUALS?  Etymology.  ABTOMOLOGY.  Ab Tomb.  ABTOMETRIC.  Root is in the common ground.  Tree and fruit is in the uncommon air.  ETYM IS ADAM.  Heartily said.  UNCONSCIOUS CRUISE.  Curse of the fellowed masters.  FALLOWED BASTARDS.  Let the mama lions roar about virtue.  The ones still tied to the mama's teats.  Proclaiming a heaven on the earth.  Their penises in her pocket.  DEVILLED EGGS.  De-villed aches.  BIRTH PRE-MANEUVERING.  Re-tart.  FISSION.  SEPARATION OF THE MAN AND WOMAN IS LIFE.  FUSION.  RE-UNION OF MAN AND WOMAN IS DEATH.  As it is seen from one side.  IT IS NOT SEEN FROM THE OTHER SIDE.  IT IS JUST LIVED.  Lived and seen.  LIVID AND CLEAN.  This and that.  Image and Word.  EBHEN SHETIYYAH.  The erection is also the magic staff which intervenes to freeze the status quo, to hold the parents in suspended animation with an intervening space between them.  The great rock on which the temple of Juerusalem was built was regarded not only as the navel of the world but also as separating the waters above from th waters below, the male waters above from the female waters below.  EYE.  I been shitty.  AHH.  Rock, rock, rock.  SEX, DRUGS AND ROCK AND ROIL.  Double, double, coil and stubble.  CUT!  Knife of the shyster.  BROTHERS OF GLIB.  Conspiring to kill the father.  WHO THE MOTHER CONSIGNS A TYRANT.  Something in these, afterall.  IN WHAT?  The numbers.  The Fulcanelli numbers.  WHAT?  You know -- the man of spirals.  THE SELF-SIMILAR LOGARITHMIC SPIRAL IS FOUND IN THE SELF-SIMILAR PARTS OF A GOLDEN TRIANGLE ALSO -- TRIANGLES WHOSE LARGER AND SHORTER SIDES ARE IN A PHI RELATIONSHIP.

 

 

The golend spiral grows from within itself; nothing is absorbed from the outside.  SPIRALS GROW BY SELF-ACCUMULATION.  EVERY SPIRAL HAS A CALM 'EYE'.  AND CLASHING OPPOSITES RESOLVE INTO SPIRAL BALANCE.  She touches his head as he sleeps; it's as if she is his mother.  THE SECOND MOTHER, THE EARTH, REPLACES THE FIRST MOTHER WHEN THE SON ENTERS INITIATION.  Initiation is rebirth.  NOTE HOW THE PLANT SENDS OUT LEAVES IN A SPIRAL CONFIGURATION SO THAT EACH LEAF WILL RECEIVE THE MAXIMUM AMOUNT OF SUNLIGHT, BLOCKING NOT THE PRECEDING LEAF.

 

 

 

Spiralling up from the ground.  THE PLANETS, TOO, ROLL ON THE SUVED SURFACE OF A WHIRLPOOL WHICH WE CALL THE SOLAR SYSTEM, HAVING THE SUN AS ITS EYE.  Vortex station.  THE FINGERPRINT IS A PLAIN WHORL, A TYPE OF SPIRAL.  Concentric, as it is.  WITH A CALM EYE.  Storms spiral.  GALAXIES SPIRAL.  The church spires up to its spire.  I DON'T THINK SO.  Mosques spire.  Up to the cupola.  UP YOUR CUPOLA!  I don't think so.    PROVING WHAT?  What?  HE IS ATTEMPTING TO PROVE SOMETHING.  He is silent.  He seems to be sleeping.  NO ONE SLEEPS!  In Arab calligraphy, the shape of the hand spells 'Allah'.  LOOK AT HIM DRAW!

                       

 

Fibonacci again!  I thought we had discredited him!  NOTHING SEEMS TO FAZE HIM!  Fixed idee.  WHAT?  Yes.  FUCKED SEED DAY.  What?  THE MAN SAID.  You misunderstood him.  WHAT?  In the beginning is the seed and the seed is the rock.  EVOLUTION.  COMING AFTER INVOLUTION.  To find the calm eye in the spiral, simply put him on the cross.

 

                       

 

I ZEE.  Eight tongues, Germanicus.  THE ZERO FROM WHICH THE 1 SPRINGS.  THE UNMANIFEST UNITY FROM WHICH THE MANIFEST MULTIPLICITY EMERGES.  From itself.  In watching water swirl down a drain, note that the narrower and calmer the yes, the greater the speed and the turbulence around it.  Unlike the center of a wheel, the sprial's eye is not fixed in one place -- but it is dynamic and flexible.  THIS CALM EYE IS THE SPIRAL'S CENTER OF GRAVITY FROM WHICH IT ALL BALANCES.  Without the eye there would be no spiral expansion or dissolution.  EVERYTHING COMES FROM THE EYES; AND EVERYTHING GOES BACK IN TO THE EYE.  Note, too, the water spirals down a drain clockwise in the northern hemisphere; and counter-clockwise in the southern hemisphere.  BARBER ARELLANOS.  It must begin where its subject matter began, as we said in the Axions.  We must therefore go back witht he philologians and fetch it from the stones of Deucalion and Pyrrha, from the rocks of Amphion, from the men who sprang from the furrows of Cadmus, or the hard oaks of Vergil.  Withthe philosophers we must fetch it from the frongs of Epicurus, from the cicadas of Hobbes, from the simpletons of Grotius; from the men cast into this world without care or aid of God, of who Pufendorf speaks, as gross and wils as the giants called 'Big Feet', who are said to be found near the Strait of Magellan; which is as much as to say from the cyclopes of Homer, in whom Plato recognizes the first fathers in the state of the families.  MAC COVI ROAD.   Covetous congress.  FIRST MULL A MUGFULL OF MUD, SON.  Zone.  MUDFULL OF MUG.  Water and Earth mixed.  IT TAKES WATER AND EARTH TO MAKE A HUMAN SOUL.  SO SAID MOSES.  At the rock.  We stand at Peter's place, the rock.  VULCAN'S PLACE.  First mull a fullcan of mud, sohne.  SEWN.  Clotho culled a clutch of cloth.  LET US GO IN TO THE CAVE TO GREET HIM.  Bet the limb.  BATH OF HIM.  Water and Earth mixed.  BATH OF LIMB.  Bet the hymn.  NEMA.  Mnea.  BROADER PLATE OR BREADER ARISTO TITULAR.  Bleeder from within; breeder from without.  PROSS.  True God from True God; Light from Light.  Begotten not made.  Ever from the Father.  ENMA.  All-powerful, ever-living God.  Through our Lord, Jesus Christ.  TODAY, IN HIM, A NEW LIGHT HAS DAWNED UPON THE WORLD.  GOD HAS BECOME ONE WITH MAN.  AND MAN HAS BECOME, ONCE AGAIN, ONE WITH GOD.  The Immortal Word has.  Has.  Has.  SANCTUS.  SANCTUS.  SANCTUS DOMINUS.  Blessed is He Who comes in the Name of the Lord.  WHO'S ANNA?  WHO IS ANNA?  Constantine builds a church on the tomb of Peter.  HOST ANNA.  HOST ANNA.  Even and ur are filled with your glory.  HELL EVADES THE SACRED HOST.  Let us proclaim the mystery of faith.  SAVIOR OF THE WORLD, SAVE US.  THROUGH YOUR CROSS AND RESURRECTION, FREE US.  The Bells of St. Mary's.  SACRED CHALICE.  All glory and honor is yours,
Almighty Father, for ever and ever.  PROTECT US, HOLY FATHER, FROM EVERY EVIL; AND DELIVER US DURING THE DAY OF HIS COMING.  Second Coming.  FIRST COMING IN TRAGEDY; NEXT COMING IN MAN'S INFESTATION.  Holly, Faye.  THE LAMB OF GOD TAKES AWAY THE SINS OF THE WORLD.  Through the Body of Christ, bring me to Everlasting Life.  Through the Blood of Christ, bring me to Everlasting Life.  Through the Spirit of Christ, bring me to Ecumenical Force.  NUTCRACKER.  To whom are you referring?  INSPIRE ALL WITH THE DANCE OF THE SUGAR PLUM FAIRY.  Draco spinning on a vat, open-eyed.  PARTIAL.  Turn.  ONE EYE.  He will tell you of the ochlea, the spiral in the ear that receives sound impressions.  And that the heart is a dexterours left-spinning spiral -- sandwiched in the middle of the three layers of the heart is a sheet of contrator muscle in the shapes of the golden sp;iral.  HE WILL TELL US THAT.  And then he will tell you also of the periodic table of chemical elements being a continuous spiral.  WHAT?  Yes.    YES, HE CAN PAINT IT.  What?  HE CAN PAINT IT.  Let us see that.

 

           

 

WHOSE DESIGN IS THIS ANYWAY?  We are not giving credit here. We steal.  We are thieves.  Remember.  UNWINDING TITAN.  Titanic riff; plates begin to buckle.  SEVEN GIANTS TRAPPED IN THE GROUND.  TURNING ON A SPIRAL.  Plate tonal riff; heiress totally rent: atonality.  OUT OF NIGHT; AND THEN OUT OF DAY.  Don't let him tell you about Nobby Finch's noble gases and their approximation of the ole Nazi's sequence.  WHAT?  Noble gass, Novice Road, Gasden, Texas.  DANIEL'S MANDIBLES MATCH HIS CATCH.  Hyperion's green caravan.  ONE IN CAVE THE GREEN MONSTER; ANOTHER IN CAVE THE JESUS CHILD.  Ossified brain lauded.  MOSTLY BY THE DEAD CRAVING MORE DEATH.  Nabilit to rejoice at dead children.  HE PUTS A BOMB IN HIS SHOE FOR THE CELEBRATION OF GOD'S BIRTH, HOPING TO KILL WOMEN AND CHILDREN FLYING TOWARD CHRISTMAS.  Hose Anna.  Hose Anna.  ANNA LOVABLE POSTERIORITY.  An army of youth out to kill the world, out to spread the desert all over the Earth.  ERRORTH.  Urth.  UR GRAMMAR.  Before Granny.  UNDER GRANDMA.   Lies other grammars.  ETYM ANT.  Etym anthrop.  POPE'S OLD VIEW.  Deeper yet.  DIG OUT THE STONE.  THE STONE, TOO, SPIRALS UP OUT OF THE NUT.  Down out of the sky.  AIN VUE.  Anus feud.  DO BRODDERS BORN FROM AINT US. 

 

Symbol

Name

Atomic

Closest

 

 

Number

Fibonacci

 

 

 

Number

 

 

 

 

He

Helium (Sun)

2

2

Ne

Neon (new)

10

8

Ar

Argon (inert)

18

21

Kr

Krypton (hidden)

36

34

Xe

Xenon (stranger)

54

55

Rn

Radon (ray)

86

89

 

AHH, SO THESE ARE THE NOBLE OR INERT GASES YOU MENTIONED.  These do not match the old Fibber's sequence.  WHAT?  God is not precise.  Are we to believe that God is not precise?  DOES GOD APPROXIMATE?  The accumulation of electrons is continuous; so the Periodic Table would be more accurately depicted as a continuous spiral ribbon, a widening vortex rolling around itself, like a seashell, cochlea, galaxy and the musical scale.  The eye, or the center of gravity, of this spiral map of matter falls along the column of inert or noble gases, because of their disdain for joining other elements in chemical bonding.  They are the stable elements of the universe, balanced and complete unto themselves.  The further an atom falls on the Periodic Table from an inert gas, the more willing it is to seek completion by enetering into a chemical relationship with other atoms.  The closer the elements are to an inert gas, the less needy they are.  THE TINIEST SUB-ATOMIC PARTICLES, TOO, ARE VORTICES THAT REVEAL THEIR SPIRAL SPIN IN BUBBLE CHAMBERS.

 

                                               

 

Maximus image nation.  IMAGE IN NATION TOO MOX TOO MERRY.  Anti-Shemite.  HIEROGYLPH FIRST, THE MUTE MOUTH MEN XOMMUNICATING BY SIGN.  Then symbolism, metaphor.  Poetry.  THEN PROSE.  Cannaworms.  When the two brothers collide, they resolve themselves into spirals.  THE SPIRAL ARISES AT THE INTERFACE OF THE DYAD.  IN CONTRAST, WE SEE RATIONAL SQUARES ENDLESSLY CHASE THEIR OPPOSITES IN THE TRANSCENDENTAL GOLDEN TRIANGLE.  Never catching them.

 

                                               

 

THERE IS SOME KIND OF MEANING THERE, I TRUST.  (THOUGH I AM TOO DENSE TO ACCESS IT.)  Red Windmill.  MERLIN'S RED CHEEKS, AROUND WHICH HIS MUSTACHES BLOW.  Heavy breathing.  RED MILL; WIND WARBLER.  We remember that the growth of plants is mostly the dyadic principles of water (plants are mostly water) and air colliding, resolving their differences in spiral movement.  COME AGAIN?  (Be careful who you say that to.)  INFINITIVE DANGLING IN THE AIR, RESOLVING ITSELF INTO A SPIRAL PART OF SCIPIO.  Hannibal the carnivore bull.  ELEPHANT MAN.  I am not enamel!  THE SPIRAL PART OF SISYPHUS.  Cut off by the dark girl.  Condemned to wander for ever until it grew back again.  Which, when inserted again, in vaginal mandible, in vulva incisor, was again cut off by the dark girl and heer beek.  I SEED.  Verily, the seed itself is the castrated penis, shrivelled into a stone.  The stone is the son, planted in the furious folds of the dark girl's placidic tendons.  SPIN HER UNDERGROUND, IXION.   SPIN HER UNDER THE MOON AND LET HER CHEW AND SWALLOW IN HER JEST STATION.  Quick Zion: give her a spin.  NAKED BUTTOCKS IN HANDS, HE GIVES HER A HEALTHY SPIN ON THE WHEEL.  Bronze we are, natally cained beat twin Ain sent sole and mob-turned boughtie.  TWO NATURES BURROWING ON EACH OTHER.  What was my father's name, the one who wroth my wreathed wurd den?  BURDEN BAUXITE?  Adam Clay?  WARDEN ORPHIC VOICE, WAS IT NOT -- VIA VICO WAY OR SOMEONE ELSE.  JJ Hippopotamus.  ORPHIC VOICE ON VICO ROAD.  Hippo Stipple, Stasis Metastasize.  TRANSUBSTANTIATION.  Trance Mutation of soles.  HEAVEN'S DEEP ORGAN BLOW.  Enitharmon's haunted mill.  DEEP ORGAN BLOW, SPINNING ON THE WHEEL, A GIRL WITH NAKED BACK, AN OVUM VERSE DISPLAYED, EGGS OF NUMBER AND EGGS OF MUMBLE, ROTATING IN A SPARK, A BARK IN A PARK.  Poor Leto.  STEALING CARROT'S FROM AN OLD BALD MAN'S GARDEN.  I am a hungry man.  I have little time.  And my brain is hungry for carrots and peas.  P's and Q's.  PPUSSIES AND CCC-QQUIM.  Five in the hive; the moonbeam cuddles its muddling moor.  CHOCOLAT.  Watching her fall.  DO YOU WANT TO SING?  Catching her.  WATCHING HER FALL.  Do you want sexual candy?  PROTECTING HER.  Watching her fall.  DO YOU WISH CREMATION?  Removing his headdress.  THE GREATEST THING YOU'LL EVER LEARN IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IN RETURN.  Christian speaks; AND LESLIE RHOADES RESPONDS.  Sings.  SATINE.  YOU DON'T HAVE TO PUT ON YOUR RED LIGHT.  SATINE.  You don't have to wear that dress tonight.  WALK THE STREETS LOOKING FOR MONEY.  YOU DON'T CARE IF IT'S WRONG OR IF IT'S RIGHT.  Ox ran.  NUMBER WAN WAN WAN, ALL RIGHT.  Ox ran.  EMPTY ENCEPHALOGRAM.  Mammative Ossification.  HARDENING OF THE TUBES, SIR.  NO PROBLEM FOR YOU.  I MEAN, DOWN THE ROAD.  He says.  TALKING ABOUT THE SNAKE BEING THE ANDROGYNOUS CREATURE.  THE LONG HARD TUBULAR BODY, THE PHALLUS.  THE OPEN MOUTH WITH TEETH THAT SWALLOWS ITS PREY.  Pig Castle.  VAGINA DENT OTTER.  Munch chnum.  THUS CREAM.  Milk and honey.  VERY MUCH.  Soul Sis.  SOUL S'TERS.  Hay, wood and hale turns brown.  YOUNG JOHN BISQUE; BRUN BETTY BOUILLABAISSE.  Zeus has an erection, in the head; and bears a child.  And he bears a child via castration; his head is split by the blow of an axe.  The father produces children from his head.  Paternal power is not natural virility or paternity but castration denied; a lie, a veil mad eof the (woven) public hair of mother.  'The father-image is a thin mask covering the image of the pre-Oedipal mother' -- one man says.  And another: 'A great advance was made in civilization when men decided to put their inferences upon a level with the tgestimony of their sense and to make the step from matriarchy to patriarchy.  The pre-historic figures which show a smaller person sitting upon the head of a larger one are representations of patrilineal descent; Athen had no mother, but sprang from the head of Zeus.  A witness who testifies to something before a court of law is still called 'Zeuge' (literally, 'begetter') in German, after the part played by the male in the act of procreation; so, too, in hieroglyphics, a 'witness' is represented pictorially by the male genitals.'  But the witness who stands up in the court is denying castration; the testimony is false testicles; a civilization a lie.  One says: 'The concept of fatherhood is the beginning of idealistic thinking' -- that is, born from the head.  IN THE NIGHT, HUMANITY IS AWARE ONLY OF THE EARTH, AND THE MOON, WHICH REGULATES POWERFULLY THE PROCESSES OF THE VAGINA, THE WOMB.  WOMAN AS THE MOTHER-GOD, THE GENATRIX, IS DOMINANT.  THE LIGHT-GIVER IS DIM AND NEAR.  SHE-HE WAXES AND WANES.  GROWS BIG AND SMALL.  REACHES OUT AND TOUCHES VEGETATION.  DURING THE DAY, A NEW GOD APPEARS, THE SUN.  THE SUN ANSWERS TO THE MALE SEX ORGAN.  THE SUN GIVES ERECTIONS, GIVES FERTILITY, ELECTRIFIES THE EARTH THROUGH HEAT AND LIGHT  AND MAGNETISM.  THIS GOD IS FAR AWAY.  LIKE THE FATHER, HE RULES, GIVES THE WORLD WEALTH AND PRODUCTIVITY; BUT HE IS NOT NEAR.  The Twelve Daughters of Albion united in Rahab and Tirzah, a Double Female; and they drew out from the Rocky Stones Ribres of Life to Weave, for every Female is a Golden Loom.  The Rocks are opake hardnesses covering all Vegetated things.  THAT BOY CAN READ.  Touchstone's elegant gala of the dray.  WATCH THE VEGETATION SPIRAL ON THE TREE, LOOMING TOO, WITH A ITALIAN MAGICIAN'S PRECIOSONO.  Vivid alderman brandishinga candle.  AN UNLIT CANDLE.  Tempting the snake for a modicum of gush.  SAVANT THAT SHE IS.  Avant deciduoso.  SPIRE, SPIRE, IN THE WIDENING GYRE.  Yeats geats.  HOLDING THE KEYS.  Gates mates; and fraternity dwindles.  COMMON AS A STREUDLE OR A POODLE ON A FRENCH MAN'S WRIST.  Homonym domonym.  HOFSTRA CARDIOVASCULAR.  Association.  PLEASE, LISTEN TO THE MAN.  Brune or prune-sailor?  SPIDER SCHNEIDER.  How does your garden groan.  WESTFALIA HAS A WASTEFUL FAILING.   Turn, turn, turn; to everything there is a season -- turn turn turn.  BYRD DROPPINGS.  Worst virgin yell.  OH, SUCH A COMIC FRANCOPHONIAN.  Burrp.  GAS OF GLASS.  Turn turn turn.  PROCTOR -- DON'T BEND OVER.  I SEE A FINGER MOVING YOUR WAY.  Caustious as a mossmouse.  UNCOVERING THE ANT'S AURICULA.  Turn, baby, turn.  TO CLEAVE OR NOT TO CLEAVE -- AN OLD BRIDGE BEAVER EDGEWAY.  Put a muzzle on the poor man -- he has reached eclipsia of frost and surreptipsia.  AS THE PLANT TURNS.   Music by Mandolin Mo, with captions by AARDVARK ASCOTS.  Tumbling Thunder by BILLIE BOB THORNTON; Eritic Ecstacies by Erica Entombed in her lips, Sophie before the Grim INflation.  WHO GOES THERE?  BE YE A ROMAN OR A NOMAN?  A Norman or a Noman?  YOUNG GOODMAN BROWN.  Hesitating in the end.  HE WILL TELL YOU --THE OTHER: TRYING TOM TYRANT THAT HE IS -- THAT ALL THE GREAT CLASSICAL ART AND ARCHITECTURE OF EGYPT, GREECE, AND EUROGAPE, THAT IT ALL HAS ITS BASIS IN THE GOLDEN MEAN, THE GOLDENCE ACTION.  THAT CLASSICAL CULTURE, IN FACT, HAS ITS BASIS IN THE GOLD AND THE MEAN AND THE OCHLY.  The Section.  THE EXTREME AND MEAN RATIO.  Aurea Sectio (the godladened ear, err, ur, the golden section).  THE DIVINE PROPORTION.  Godlike Proportion.  THE DIVINE SECTION.  The Continued Division.  THE MEDIAL SECTION.  The Golden Cut.  I KNOW WHAT THE GOLDEN CUT, IS MISTER FYE.  FIE PHI FIDDLI-I-O, FIE PHI FIDEL-I-O-O-O-O, FIE PHI FIDDLE THE EYE, OH, COMING ON MY OLD BANJO, O-O!  That's a pretty delicate image of your wife's, ahh, posteriori, Mister Condiment.  EAR'S ROLLICKING WITH THOR'S CANON.  He will tell you that 1 divided by 89, both Fibonacci numbers, returns the number 0.011235955056179 -- which, at a quick glance, is supposed to appear, itself, to be the Fibonnaci sequence.  BUT ONLY AN APPROXIMATION!  Ahh.  GOD DOES NOT PLAY WITH DICE!  HE PLAYS WITH NUMBERS!  AND THE NUMBERS GOD PLAYS WITH ARE PRECISE!  So you say.  FLY IS NOT A NUMBOO BUT A LELATION SHIP.  Grec, grec, grec.  FRY-BY-NIGHT FELLOW SHIP.  The hole is to the large part what the large part is to the small part.  ANAL ANTICS, STARRING BIG BRUISER BEEKER BILL AND HIS GIRLFRIEND, TUTOLIA MIRANDA -- 'DO YOU NEED A PLACE TO PUT YOUR FINGEE?'  Carmen Miranda told a friend once that twice as many friends was twice as much fun -- and often led to comatose enjoyments.  BLISH.  Two things cannot be rightly put together without a third; there must be some bond of union between them.  And the fairest bond is that which makes the most complete fusion of itself and the things which it combines.  IS HE TALKING ABOUT CROSSMANN'S DAUGHTER -- IN SOME KIND OF MENACE OF TROYS?  Proportion is best adapted to effect such a union.  THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT DOUBLE INDEMNITY A MOMENT AGO.  Two shoes need two feet, now don't they.  THE WHOLE IS TO THE LARGE PART WHAT THE LARGE PART IS TO THE SMALL PART.  And that is fly, sir.  Yes -- that is fly.  LIKE GOD, THE DIVINE PROPORTION IS ALWAYS SIMILAR TO ITSELF.  I didn't know he had a sister -- Frau Luca.  FRAU LICKER.  Free liquor?  SHH!  GO BACK TO SLEEP.  Frollicker frollicker , beware the green bolluxer.  TENT.  Time.  TEMPO.  Tantrum.  TUMBLER.  Testimonial.  TESTAMENT OF A FARTHER ZONE TO HIS TONGUE-SISTER TWED ON HER WET BED.  Marsupial turning purpial.  PHALANGER TICKING INSIDE A GRINNING BANDICOOT.  Pussum pussum, fillled with sinning sputum.  ARCHAIC TYPE OF FORM.  Parkay is ripe as corn -- when seen from the sky.  THE MARTELLO TOWERS ARE YEARNING, BURNING.  Sad auction of melon's pie.  PUMMEL THE SANDER'S SON.   Tunnel her with wiped cream.  HE WILL TELL YOU THAT PHI EQUALS 1 PLUS 1 DIVIDED BY 1 PLUS 1 DIVIDED BY 1 PLUS 1 DIVIDED BY 1 PLUS 1 DIVIDED BY 1 PLUS 1 DIVIDED BY 1.  Eleven ones in all.  PHI EQUALS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 PLUS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 PLUS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 PLUS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 PLUS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 PLUS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1 PLUS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 1.  Seven ones in all.  HE WILL SAY.  Even as the Finite encloses an Infinite series, and in the Unlimited Limits appear, so the Soul of Immensity dwells in Minuta, and in the Narrowest Limits, no Limits inhere.  What joy to discern the Minute in Infinity!  The Vast to perceive in the Small, what Divinity!  JAKOB THE LIAR.  Jacob burns old lilies.  JOCASTA'S CURMUDGEON.  Carnal conditions: the large inside the small.  THE SMALL INSIDE THE LARGE!  Yes.  That too.  HE WILL SAY.  Dei divined proportionately.  HE WILL SAY.  Like the pentagram star, the spiral expresses the geometry of self-similarity.  DNA MOLECULES.  Barber pole.  CLOCK SPRINGS.  Record grooves.  PINE CONES.  Bolts.  A COIL OF ROPE.  In an arcimedian spiral, the distance from one coil to the next is always the same.  GALAXIES, GALAXIES.  Ram's horns.  RED CABBAGE.  Whirlpool.  SEASHELL.  She'll sell a sea shell.  WHIPPOORWILL IN A WHIRLPOOL.  Bed garbage made of red cabbage.  HAM'S NORNS HAVE RED HORNS.  GAL AT SEAS ARE GALAXIES.  CALLOUS BREEDS LIVE IN GALAXIES.  Stop.  NOTORIOUS MAN USING BAD WORDS TO MISLEAD READERS.  Stop.  MAN ACCUSED OF MURDER SPINNING WEBS FOR WEAVERS; DEBS CLEARLY EAGER; POLICE ARE WATCHING.  Stop.  HE WILL SAY.  In watching water whirl down a drain, note that the narrower and calmer the eye is, the greater the speed and turbulence around it.  Notice that, unlike the center of a wheel, the spiral's eyes is not fixed in one place but is dynamic and flexible.  CALL MY....CALL MY....CALL MY NAME WITH SOME TENDERNESS, MY LITTLE LATINA.  Conifer Lopez.  WHAT?  Conifer low peds.  I KISS YOUR FEED, MISS LOU; AND BITE YOUR BUTT, FOR THE SAKE OF LUCK.  Low pest.  THE DIGESTIVE SYSEM OF A PIG IS A COIL.  Worldspool.  Wheelspiel.

 

                       

 

HE SAYS.  The human embryo unfurls as a spiral as it develops.  THE HUMAN EAR IS A COIL.  Cock, Leah.  COCHLEA.  He says.  THE OUTER EAR AND INNER EAR (COCHLEA) ARE SPIRALS.  THE SHAPE OF THE COCHLEA, THE ORGAN THAT 'HEARS' MUSIC, CORRESPONDS TO HOW CHROMATIC MUSICAL OCTABES APPEAR WHEN GRAPHED AS WAVE-LENGTHS.  EACH NOTE IS IDENTICAL TO THOSE DIRECTLY ABOVE AND BELOW IT ON THE SPIRAL, BUT WITH A ONE OCTAVE DIFFERENCE.  Spiral.  HERE COMES EVERYSPIRAL.  His title is a spiral.  EGYPTIAN TILE IS A SPIRAL.  Rank and file are all a spiral.  THE ART OF DENIAL, TOO, IS A SPIRAL.  Don't lie to me!  IS A SYLLABIC SPIRAL.  Eat shirts and die.  IS AN OCTAVIAN OF SPIRALS.  Gaius Octavius; Octavius Augustus.  LIPID DUST MARKED ANT HONEY.  Three in one.  Three in one.  REFLECTING GODHEAD.  Bar man, vast nude, shaver shiven.  HE'LL SAY.  Behold the sea, in its mathematic ebb and flow, giving him of that which changes not.  M OR SON?  N.  WHAT?  N is the son of M.  OR THE DAUGHTER.  MISSING A LEG.  Nina, Nina, I long to be inya.  NINA, NINA, DON'T BE A PRIMA DINARA.  Nina, Nina, your beautiful face, your elegant nature, your cowgirl grace.  Don't fear me 'cause I'm near thee.  CONIFER LONG.  Melons eat griffins.  THE MAN WHO HAS MUSIC IN HIS SOUL WILL BE IN LOVE WITH THE LOVELIEST.  Cocklea talk to thee.  QUIMJIM SPEAK MIRIAMS.  Miriam Maxim.  MAGNANIMOUS NAGMANIMOUS.  Yes, I see.  You already have a boyfriend.  So, giving your roses is out of the question?  YES.  I AM WARNING YOU.  Cut him with a knife, soulsista.  SOULCHRISTA.  Ye waves, that o'er the interminable ocean wreathe your crisped smiles.  EX, YOU LUST.  Eschatalogulust.  HE SAYS.  Humans hear approximately ten octabes of sound in a cochlea of two-and-three quarter spiral turns.  The first recorded fact of mathematic physics, attributed to Pythagoras, is that musical notes can be expressed in mathematical rations.  So when the notes of the chromatic musical octave are graphed according to their frequency of vibration, as acculumulating wavelengths, the graph forms the shape of the golden spiral.  Stretched up into three dimensions, it becomes the shape of the cochlea, the organ that transduces sound to consciousness.  The cochlea and all natur's spirals can thus be seen as solid, liquid, gaseous and fiery representatives of the music that structures the cosmos.  WHO HAS SAID THIS?  Schneid ear.  You know: noun age.  NUDE AGE.  Yes, newt stage.  FATHER OF OTHER.  Ahh, tried and triune.  MAMA NAUGHT SURE.  Mother Girth.  EAIE.  Gay.  ATOM FROM ATOM YAWNS AS FAR AS EARTH FROM MOON, OR STAR FROM STAR.  M or Son?  GNOME OR NOSON?  Nina or Mina.  YES, DAUGHTER EARTH.  daughter in her vestry.  VESTAL.  And vest.  UROLD OLLAR DAY; UROLD OLLAR DAY.  Faye.  RAYE.  Must rooms.  EZEKIEL GOLIATH.  Kink Dong.  NOW, DON'T GET PERSONAL.  Mushrooms spiral; bivalve shells; leaves: nostrils of Pan.  IONIC COLUMNS.  All in all a spiral falls with a crashing but meaningless blow.  NO SOUND EVER COMES FROM THE GRAPES OF MEDEA.  The sound of one grape flapping.  SKINLESS.  A TRAGIC SEASON IN REASON'S OCCULAR ART.  Toward wine.  VINE.  Dine.  SPINE.  Who killed Julie Cleaver, why and what's the reasons for?  JULIE'S GRIEVER.  A knife in the ribs -- so Even can get outen.  YES.  Watch him draw!  A GRAPE.  A beach ball.   A HEAD.  A head with brains.  PINGPONG PADDLES.  A Chinese house under a magnifying glass.  MISTER PEEPERS.  Wally Cox.  WOODY ALIEN.  Allen Gassberg.  GRUNTER GRASS.  A Chinese house under a magnifying glass.  REMEMBER TO PUT THE ANSWER IN THE FORM OF A QUESTION.  What is a diagram of twin brothers in the womb?  NO.  WE CAN'T ACCEPT THAT.  What is a diagram of twins in the room?  YES.  THIS DIAGRAM DID NOTHING TO SUGGEST THE GENDER OF THE TWINS.

 

           

 

Spiral sperm unwinding in the womb like a minuet comet.  WHAT IS?  Spermatacontamicomet.  YES, FOR ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS.  Actium practicum.  A COMET EVENTUALLY UNWINDS TO PRODUCE A STREAM OF PARTICLES AROUND ITS OWN ORBIT.  Common eye wad in laya.  AROUND A CALM EYE.    A calm eye in the lion.  IN THE NYLON?  He might say.  CONGEALING AND CONDENSING.  Manufacturing the ache.  WHO DOES?  Harry and his hamster.  BON NUISSANCE.  And he might say.  FRATERNAL TWINS ARISE FROM TWO FERTILIZED EGGES; WHILE IDENTICAL TWINS ARE BORN OF THE SAME EGG WHICH HAS SPLIT.  THE SPIRALS OF FRATERNAL AND IDENTICAL TWINS MIRROR EACH OTHER DIFFERENTLY.  He might say that.  POOR MOISHE WITH HIS BAG OF BOOKS, LOOKING ALL THE TIME MORE LIKE ANTIC SAD LOSS WITH HIS BAG OF GIFTS TO GIVE TO BOYS IN THIS SAD GARDEN.  Garden of dreams.  GARDENS OF MORE ROSE CONNED DICTIONS.  Drink up!  IT SEEMS THIS BOTTLE IS A KIND OF CORN UTOPIA.  THE MORE WE DRINK, THE MORE THERE IS TO DRINK.  Like the liar after his first lie: he finds that there never is an end to his supply.  LIAR AND THIEF; AND SLEEPER DREAMING US.  Is that it -- is he dreaming us now, even as we speak?  COILED IN HIS SLEEP, CURLED UP INSIDE HIS ARMY COAT WITH THE BLOOD ON IT.  Didn't he kill his wife with a revolver.  THEY FOUND HER BODY IN THE EAST RIVER, ALONG WITH THAT GIRL SADIE, THE BLESSED LITTLE CONCENTRIC THING.  Both were tied to a boat that was dragged into the harbor.  SPIRE IN THE SKY, AN UNWOUND BODY, UNWINDING FROM THE FOUNDING STONE, ON WHICH THE FACE OF THE DEVIL IS PRINTED.  Keeping down the dark one.  Keeping down old blackstone.  DELICHON URBICA, DOWN IN THE SAND TUNNELING LIKE A...LABINITE.  Lab rinse, lab rattle.  TALL IBN CELLMAN ALL CALL OFF SHRIEK.  Ibn Iban; Abba Eban.  HE MIGHT SAY.  HE MIGHT STREEK ABOUT THE SPIRAL NATURE OF STORMS IN THE ATMOSPHERE.  STORMS BEING CAUSED BY AN INWARD SPIRAL IN THE NORTH; THE OPPOSITE BEING TRUE IN THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE.  Auntie Onan force.

 

           

 

 

CAVING IN: CONCAVE.  In the north, this is the storm.  In the south, the convex vexes.  WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS EXCUSE, YOUR HONOR.  THE DEFENDANT MERELY IS SEEKING TO EXONNERATE HIS ANCESTORATES, THE WIDE NORDNENERS, FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE MOUTH.  HE INTENDS TO REVOKE END VIOLET READINGS WHICH THE SUDENERS NOSE IS TRUE -- DEVILS, DEBILS, DEBILITATORS, FRENCH FRIES.  HE CLAIMS THE SUN IS A COD IN THE CHEST BUT IS A DOG NESTING IN THE THIGH.  HE ASSERT STAINS THAT THE UR'S MORAL NATAL SUTURE IS BUT A MIRE HELD UP IN A FLASHING GLASH.  A KLASH OF IDE DROPPINGS, EACH FLASE AND ONING NO PROXIMIDGETY TO THE GREAT ONCLE'S TRUSE.  HE WANTS TO GOLDEN SECTARIANIZE ILL LESIONS, PIG SHORES THE MIND GETS BELIEVING: PICK SURES ITS BOILDING.  MIND ALLOYS BECOMING MIND ALIENTS, JUDGE PINK.  HE WANTS ALL THE PROTEIN TERRIERS AND THOSE OF THE URKING GLASS TO PRE TAKE FACIAL ALLEGED GRIEVANCES AND ALLOW THE HIGH BOATS WITH BLOOD EYES TO DEVOLVE BLACKSTONES THREWN IN PAGES OF GOD'S EVER OVEN SALVES IN JAINS WITH THE APT  PULLIENT BE LIEDS THAT ITS AWL, IN  ONE STEIN'S ARCHING EVIDENT, IN PINTS DINES OCCULATE INFECTIVE: EVERY DING IS  REAL, A TIFF.  Your honor's grace is much esteemed.  My friend a several sheets to the wind, sir.  He seeks to incorporate in to his riff the bromide of this accused that the north loves the sungod and the south loves the moongod and never the twain do meet.  REAL NATIVITY.  Relativity.  ALBERT!  WHAT HAVE YE DONE?  Elidest nonsense.  THE DAY IS NOT THE NIGHT; BUT WHICH IS RIGHT, AND WHICH IS AN ILLUSION?  Two illusions surrounding the Never-Known, the No-Thing.  THE SOUL SPIRALS INTO THE DAY, INTO LIFE, INTO LIGHT; AND THEN DOWN AGAIN THROUGH THE TWILIGHTS INTO NIGHT AGAIN.  HE BUILDS THE BODY'S EVOLUTION; THE MIND'S EVOLUTION; AND THEN, AGAIN, BUILDS THE SOUL'S EVOLUTION.  Victimizer; man's balanced nation; then victim.

 

                                   

 

REMEMBER, THE SPIRAL RUNS IN BOTH DIRECTIONS.  I seed.  IN AND OUT.  I seed.  INANNA AND OUTTANNA.

 

                                   

 

Let him dream.  It's not killing you, is it?  INTERMODULAR PROJECTIONS.

 

                                   

 

Interstellar penetrations.  OZZO.  And ZOOZ.  THAT LOOKS LIKE 2002.  HE MIGHT SAY.  It is soul late, Julius Caesar.  Your blood is watering the tree of tyrants.  In democratic garb per paps.  COTILLION CLAW; JACKHAMMER DAW.  The birds of mourning gather on the sill, singing operatic accompaniments of carousal.  VISUAL VISCERAL; VISCERA VICE.  Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the cock.  VAGUS HERVE.  VASCULA RASCULA.  Viscosity Generosity.  TUBE STEAK AND TUBE MEMBRANE.  Anna Nana, where'd you get those hives?  (APPLAUSE IS SILENT.)  Nina, would you be so generous as to share your viscosity?  YOU ARE NEVER AGAIN TO BRING ME ROSES!  I HAVE ROSES OF MY OWN!     Zelig!  Hail!  FRATRICIDE MATRICIDE.  REGICIDE PLEDGICIDE.  Her blouse is unbuttoned; and I can see something looming.  SOMETHING BLOOMING.  Penelope, darling.  Something looming in the loam.  MICHAEL J. WEAVER: PLEASE APPROACH THE BENCH!  Let's make him eat a brick of old rotten swiss cheese.  That will be punishment enough for him.  His worst crime is peeping through a girl's window as she undressed.  WHAT ABOUT THAT INTERNET PORNOGRAPHY!  THAT ORIENTAL NEWSGROUP!  Oh, boys will be brides.  THE IDES HAVE IT.  HE WILL BE FORCED TO EAT ELEVEN TONS OF SOURED SWISS CHEESE WITHOUT VOMITING.  SHOULD HE VOMIT, HE SHALL BE FORCED TO BEGIN ANEW.  Vivian Hsu.  Mika Tan.  AND THE FABULOUS FAN FAN DANCE.  Dangle, dangle; fortuitous angle.  Look when she bends.  She looks like an angel.  LOOK AT THESE NEW GLASSES.  YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING WITH THESE.  X-Ray, X-Ray, read all about it.  Glasses see right through women's woven dresses.   Women's cotton daintiees.  WHO IS HE LOOKING AT?  I think we need to find this man a wife, right away.  OH, I BELIEVE HE HAS ONE.  OR AT LEAST HE DID.  I BELIEVE HE LOST HER TO ANOTHER MAN'S QUID HOWEVER.  Can can; yes, I can can.  Can can, yes I can.  'I CAN' IS WRITTEN BOLDLY IN THE WORD 'AMERICAN'.  (Yawn.)  Fill up Sue's straw bag with a flag; read, write and brood, later on.  Brood, for ever.  Wounded artistic man, Lady Byron and Lord Bryan, sticking his thing in his sister's thing like some dawn wanderer.  Like some dallywacker bed-weened and all by Sister Lilac and Chamois Cheat (chaired) after mama's rule of bloodboiled re-prussian skooled by crux to deed nye the sure pen's rood re-bates a mod meant as she echoes outside; finger blinking on a need, up a skotch kirche, to the soft tie of Sister  Slow, half of this, half of that.  And then the libs tudge much mords, the tongs torch crabbed cants; a fire, a fix, a freeze, a firenza.  A flash, a frick, a fresh, a fragulenta.  Frigate fricks a fumulent fibula.  Hand up the scorched canticle -- wipe of bath -- torching cotton, torching woofted flash, a flower, a sister's flower, a finger, a thigh, an heiry quantico.  The secret door begins to open.  THE SECRET DOCTRINE.  Wombder woman.  LORD PYRON FALLS.  Wombder wanton.  Wantin' wrose.  MAMA'S DHARMA.  CARMEN'S CHLOROFOAM.  Fingers of honeymoney.  Fingers of gold.  STOP!  MAMA'S COMIN'!  Hurrying away.  LITTLE LORD FAWN KING IN HIS KNICKERS AND LITTLE LADY FUNT DE ROY IN HER KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKERS SCRAMBLE DOWN HISTORY'S MAL LEEWAYS WITH STAINED FINGERS HIDING FROM DOGMA.  One door opens; and one door closes.  MAID RE-ARCHERY.  MADE REEF ARK AIRY.  NUAH.  Ok, I think that's enough.  (The reader will only allow so much.)  MUSHY.  MAKE SOME CORN.  White, downy hair on ripe golden nibbles.  MOIST.  Mulch.  MANNERLY MANDERSON.  He might even say (chuckling and buckoing).  THE ARCHITECTURE OF UPRIGHT PLANTS PUTS OUT LEAVES IN SPIRALS AROUND THE STEM, LIKE A SPIRAL STAIRCASE WINDING IN EITHER DIRECTION, CLOCKWISE AND COUNTER-CLOCKWISE, AT DIFFERENT SLOPES.  Stop.  WITHIN EACH PLANT'S STEM ARE VEINS, OR 'LEAF TRACES', NOURISHING THE LEAVES.  EACH VEIN FEEDS ACHAIN OF LEAVES ALONG A PARTICULAR PATTERN, PASSING THOSE NOT IN ITS PATTERN.  THE NUMBERS OF LEAVES BETWEEN UPPER AND LOWER LEAVED FED BY THE SAME VEIN COMPRISE ONE 'LEAF CYCLE' -- REMINDING US OF OF THE WAVELENGTH BETWEEN WAVES OF THE SEA.  Stop.  THE NUMBER OF LEAVES IN ONE LEAF CYCLE, THAT IS, TO THE NEXT LEAF FED BY THAT VEIN, IS A FIBONACCI NUMBER.  ALSO, THE NUMBER OF SPIRALS YOU TURN TO GET TO THE NEXT LEAF CYCLE WILL ALSO BE A FIBONACCI NUMBER.  That damned lionazzi number again!  Why won't he give it up?  STOP.  Will you stop this 'stop' thing, whatever it is.  STOP.  What is it?  GRAVITUS TELE MOCK US.  What?  STOP.  You stop it!  STOP.  I tell you: one more time and I'm going to crush that word and cram it right back down your bibulous throat.  STOP. Billious throat.  STOP.  Candle power.  WHAT?  Someone has lit a candle over there.  WHO?  (All town yawns?)  I DON'T KNOW -- IT DIDN'T SEE.  Stop.  LISTEN YOU LITTLE WORM.  Could it have been the error ray beam?  WHO?  Inside.  The man with the smoking gun.  FRAME A RAJA?  Yes.  GUPTA LUPTA; BULLWINKLE LIMNS A LOMB IN A L'IL DING.  Fatuous cat; man do a velly bad ting.  HARRUM.  And then he might say - candlemass, candlemass.  THE HIGHER THE NUMBERS ARE ON THE FIBONACCI SEQUENCE AND THE MORE PRECISE THE RATIO IS TO PHI, THE MORE COMPLEX THE PLANT (FOR EXAMPLE, FERNS' 2-1 RATIO IS CRUDE; SUNFLOWERS' 89-55 RATIO IS FINER. 

 

0 - 1 - 1 - 2 - 3- 5 - 8 - 13 - 21 - 34 - 55 - 89 - 144 - 233 - 377 - 610 - 987

 

A thing may endure in Nature if it is duly proportioned to its necessity.  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, FROLLICKER?  The more precise the PHI ratio is, the less overlap of leaves there is so that each leaf gets the most sunlight and the least shade.  THE LONG ARDOR DOVES IN SHEILA; AS LANE ORDER MOVES CROXWISE IN BELIAL.  (We are supposed to understand that?)  BA-BA-BLACK SHEEP, HAVE YOU ANY WEIL?  Three bags, three plants, three beans full.  Fried.  If you please.  HIPPOCRATIC OATS.  HYPNOSIASTS.  Plants seem to configure with the approximation to the ideal that best provides their needs for light, atmosphere, and balance.  The golden spiral's geometric charcteristic of self-similarity of part and whole (exemplified by the calm balanced eye) guarantees that while the plant grows in size and weight it maintains the same balance, stability and center of gravity.  BLANCH.  PHLANGE.  Rotates in your branch alot.  BUILD A FLOWER, FOLLOWER!  What kind?  ARE WE LOOKING FOR BEAUTY; OR SYMBOLISM?  Spy rolls.  FILM?  IS HE TALKING FILM?  Scorch easy: the hand on the little girl's knee.  NO -- THAT WAS PULL INSKY.  HE SAID TO THE LITTLE GIRL: 'PULL INSKY, AND PULL EASY, FIRSTTIMER.'  Flowers being what they are: one spiral running one way; a second spiral perhaps funning  the oxcipit way.  BUILD A BUNCH AND BUILD IT HARD ON!

 

                                   

 

Is that a tree, an atom, or the solar system?  YES.  THAT IS THE MAN'S POINT.  Which man?  SHINED EAR.  Oh? 

 

                                     

 

IS THAT A WHIRLING PENTAGRAM STAR?  Yes, that is the man's point.  WHICH MAN?  Chimed Door.  I SEE.  I MEAN I HEAR.  AND I SEE.

 

                                   

 

What!  More!  THAT'S A DAMNED POOR SPIRAL!  AND THE LEAVES AREN'T SO GREAT EITHER!  Is that an apple being transcribed in the air?  WHAT'S WITH THE 137.5 DEGREES?  You don't remember?  NINE.  FOOT.  TREE.  You need to concentrate!  YES.  BUT IT IS LATE.  This is how the plant builds around its core.  HOW THE MONAD BUILDS AROUND ITS SOUL.  Bildung supra bildung.  WHAT?  Frequent of stolen word carcases.  PRECISELY.  Gainaday brothers.  WHAT?  (At least he has stopped saying 'stop'.)  (THANK GOD FOR SMALL FAVORS.)  And he did say at one time.  BUT MULTIPLYING THE INVERSE OF THIS RATIO (THE SUNFLOWER'S FINER 89-55 RATIO) BY 360 DEGREES (TO GET A MEASUREMENT OF LESS THAN 360 DEGREES), YOU WILL DISCOVER THE ANGLE BETWEEN MEASUREMENT OF CONSECUTIVE LEAVES AS THEY EMERGE FROM THE STALK, THAT IS CHARACTERISTIC OF THE SPECIES.  THE IDEAL ANGLE IS APPROXIMATELY 137.5 DEGREES (= 1/PHI X 360), OR 222.5 DEGREES (ITS COMPLEMENT), MEASURING IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION.  ON A CLOCK, THE ANGLE WOULD BE MADE BY THE HANDS AT THREE MINUTES TO FOUR O'CLOCK.  What does this mean?  IT IS REALLY QUITE ELEMENTARY, DEAR WARTSON.  WE TAKE 360 DEGREES AND MULTIPLY THIS BY THE GOLDEN SECTION, 1.61818.  THIS GIVES US 222.5.  360 is to 222.5 what 222.5 is to?  Well?  Come on.  ELEMENTAL, DEAR WARSTONE.  360 DEGREES MINUS 222.5 EQUALS 137.5.

 

                                   

 

My God, is he drunk or just retarded!  Look at the hands of that clock!  THOSE ARE LEAVES, I THINK!  Jesus H Christomosos!  They are worse as leaves that they were as clock hands!  I believe we have been here so long that the old Magician is now suffering with either a bout of colitis, a drench of eldz timers, or simple adolescence brought on by alcohol poisoning!  ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR WETSTEIN.  THE STRUCTURE OF THE SPIRAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE PLANT IS SIMILAR TO THE SPIRAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE FRUIT ITSELF!  TAKE A LOOK AT THE SUNFLOWER AND MEASURE ITS SPIRALS.

 

                                   

 

Did someone bring a calculator?  NOT ON YOU LIFE, SISTER MOON.  So says Brother Sun.  THEY ARE NAKED TOGETHER -- MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T HIDE HIS BANANA IN HIS SISTER'S CISTERN.  Spirals in all directions, no less.  SPINNING WHEEL.  Spinning weil.  CANTANKEROUS NEWS.  Five is alive!  It's alive!  MOVING SLOWLY, WITHOUT CIRCUMSPECTION.  Let him speak!  WHO?  Mister Marmalade!  VERY WELL.  WHERE IS HE?  Lost in your lapel -- where is he!  WHO IS HE?  Yes, that is the appropriate question.  WHO IS HE?  IS HE THE MAN IN THE MASK; OR THE MASK ON THE MAN?  He's got (UMPH!) personality, (WALKS WITH) personality, (TALKS WITH) personality.  STOP.  There is was!  Let me get at that bastard!  WHAT IS THIS?  HOW TO BULLY FRIENDS AND TALK WITH INFLUENZA ON ALL OTHERS?  Shore up, friend.  APPAULLING BEHAVIOR.  AT A CHURCH.  This is not a church.  This is....a museum.  There are no churches here.  PLEASE.  The churches all look like drive-in movie theaters.  GREED PRICEY!  Ahh, the devil is in sister George.  The long snake -- combing and going.  KARMA KARMA KARMA I'M A KARMELION.  I COME AND GO; I COMB AND GO-O-O-O.  Hey, theree.  HEY THERE, ORGY GIRL!  Hey, there, Georgie Girl, swinging down the street so fancy free, nobody who looked could ever see the lonely look in your eyes.  LET THE ZEN SHINE, LET THE ZEN SHINE IN, THE ZE-EN SHINE IN.  Damned Zennedy Broad Others!  ARTIFICIAL ACHIEVEMENT.  Western festooners idealizing the distant.  ZENDU HINDISTS KISSING FARZI BUTT AND FONDLING VEND AZESTA BOOBLE STOPS.  Innocent two-dimensional spirituality followed by three-dimensional nationalism with utopian social obsessions followed by renaiissance-like humanism of individual caftan.  PLEASE.  He would begin to wax oso philosophic like a breighting bush seek to achieve breasts expressing admiration for udder Earth.  MAU MAU MUNDER ASIAN MAKS.  He might say.  AND THROUGH IT ALL, THE CALM EYE OF THE STORM, TURNING AND TURNING IN THE WIDENING GYRE.  Please.  EASE PLAY.  Right,  Web Boy Yates Skates Through Gates Belatedly.  HE MIGHT SAY.  Mister Brown, you've got a lovely daughter!  Girls as good as Sadie are something rare.  DON"T LET ON-ON.  SHE KNOWS SHE BROKE YOUR HEART.  YOU"VE HEARD IT STRAIGHT ENOUGH.  It ain't no good to pine.  NOT BROWN YET; STILL MORE YELLOW, MORE ORCURE.  He might say.  AND THEN AGAIN HE MIGHT NOT.  Please.  TELL US ABOUT THE CALM EYE, THE NUCLEUS, THE SUN OF THE SYSTEM, THE PRIMARY SOUL, AROUND WHICH ALL ELSE WOBBLES OR GYRATES OR SPIRALS ON THE MATERIAL PERIPHERY.  He said.  HE SAID WHEN?  What?  WHY?  Where and Who and How?  WHEREFORE?  The center within us is the truth of our higher Self, the reality deepest within which each of us calls 'I'.  Each time we lose sight of the 'I', we spiral toward the periphery.  We appear to leave the center because we feel a sense of separation somewhere in our lives.  We lose our vantage point of the center when we artificially divide our Self and try to look at it, think about it, want it, grasp at it.  TIMMMMMMMMBER!  The futher wewander from the calm center, the calm eye or 'I', the greater our experienc eof psychological turbulence.  The motion of stepping away creates resistance, like moving an oar in water.  Drifting from our center takes us away from the calm by creating resistance, resulting in the sometimes stormy turbulence of our psyche.  It is a natural part of our growth process periodically to leave our center and come back to it, just as we must expand and contract to breathe.  The creative pulse of the Dyad between center and turbulence -- (between center and circumference) -- is part of our growing process.  The rhythmic interplay between the impulse to divide ourselves from the center and the yearning that is expressed in our loinging to return is found in the experience of constrnatly searching for and finding meaning in our lives.  The interplay between these two forces manifest itself in the world as a curve.  (MOCK APPLAUSE FROM ALL.)  Tut, she's feelatioing herself, I believe.  WEN EGA.  Wan Ego.  THE ANTI-EGO MANIFESTS AS AN EVEN LARGER LEGG THAN THE EARLIER KNEED.  I believe you are right.  BUT THERE IS A GRAM OF EARTH IN WHAT HE SAYS.  A mam of girth.  AN IAM OF BIRTH.  Mister Pentameter speaking queerulously.  CAREER USELESSLY.  Provoke Boy George and find inside his sister, the devil.  GEORGIA NAMED HER, GEORGIA CLAIMED HER: SWEET GEORGIA BROWN.  The gown red with mensuration.  ATOM ANT.  Antimonious; Antonymonous.  HE DOESN'T WANT YOU TO KNOW THE POWER IN HIS NAME.  Makes Masks Makes Masks Makes Masks.  PETER PAUPER POPPED A PIMPLED PRICK PRETENDING PEARS WERE PURE.  Pee Pee Pee -- I got a pee (for a name).  PARCELED POPE WALKING DOWN THE ROAD IN THE SNOW LOOKING FOR MICHAEL.  Malachi, Malachi, where does your garden grow?  PANTHER.  BLACK PANTHER.  Hold your Jung!  FREED FROM YOUR JUNGENLIED; KIPPLED OFF YOUR OLDER PUSS.  Do you have any of Crossmann's own books in your bag of trickes, old wickes, Mosaic.  MOSAIC?  He speakes in a mosaic form -- don't you see.  Images and frragments laid side-by-side, but with nothing touching.  MORSE ACHE?  Must she?  WEE.  Which?  ALL.  Prove to us what Crossmann's re-birth meant.  Prove that this meant that he came back into his penis.  CAME BACK INTO HIS MAN, AS THE TANNED PHILOSPHER MAINTAINS.  Who -- Hugh Heffner?  HUGE FANFARE.  'Mo she.  Is free.  Can't hear me now, I'll yell a little lowder.

 

There is a great shadow in this land which my ghost must confront.

Crowds can never understand my conspiracy.

Time has allegiance to my hand and my grotto.

And the legacy that I leave, in this Land of Light,

  from which I now descend,

This Land of My Fathers, in which Futures have been stored,

Is a child for every dandelion stem,

A child for every star I've perfected.

 

BUT THAT IS THE DEAD AND DYING FATHER SPEAKING TO THE LIVING AND ALMOST-BORN SON.  The re-born son.  CURE THE AGE ELISION.  Hamlet!  He is Hamlet!  YES.

 

... the father's son will bend his name;

Will twist the proselyte world into a cleave.

 

CLEARLY, DOES NOT CROSSMANN BEND HIS OWN NAME, BENIDNG IT IN TO A MYTHOLOGICAL COMPOUND?  Will twist the proselyte world -- what is the proselyte world?  THE PROSELYTE IS THE ONE WHO HAS CONVERTED FROM ONE RELIGION TO ANOTHER.  Are we speaking now of proselytes who have converted from the religious mind to the secular mind?  THIS MAN WILL TWIST THE SECULAR WORLD INTO A CLEAVE?  There we have this word again, 'cleave' -- which means both to break apart and also to fuse together.  Fission and fusion at the same time.  SO DOES THIS MEAN NOTHING?  Nein.  Nothing means nothing.  HOMO NON INTELLIGENDO FIT OMNIA.  Don't you see how he is weaving us together, weaving us into his dream!  We are like threads of light; and he is using us, as he is using material that exists in this world, to weave together a picture of the world!  TATUG.  Guten Tag!  OH, DON'T WAKE HIM UP!  Bearding the rosebud pubic hair of some delicate little daughter baby.  RISE UP, MAN OF HOOTHS, YOU HAVE SLEPT SO LONG!  No, not yet.  OR IS IT ONLY MESLEEMS?  Fall down, Man of Troths, you have leapt too strong.  BUT YOU'RE CHANING ACOOLSHA, YOU'RE CHANGING FROM ME, I CAN FEEL.  OR IS IT ME IS?  I'M GETTING MIXED.  Dear Mud-Pack Mama.  MIXED AND NO LONGER PURE.  Me breed.  BRIGHTENING UP AND TIGHTENING DOWN.  YES, YOU'RE CHANGING SONHUSBAND, AND YOU'RE TURNING, I CAN FEEL YOU,  FOR A DAUGHTER-WIFE FROM THE HILLS AGAIN.  Ahh.  Mountainous applause.  THIS CLEARLY DESERVES AN EXCLAMATION, POINDEXTER!  If not an appostrophe.  A POSH TROPE.  Abadan's rabid ban.  I'M LAM MAYA!  AND SHE IS COMING!  In the form of the Dawn.  I SEED.   Swimming in me hindmost.  DEVIL TALKING ON ME TAIL.  Divil taking the swimmingmosthindmost.  DUEL.  Walk.  DUAL DUEL.  Tatug.  VAGINA DENT US, WEBEN.  High-stepping spiel burgher.  HE TWISTS THE PROSELYTE WORLD -- THAT IS, HE WEAVES THE TWO WORLDS, THE ONE HAVING PASSED FROM SECULAR TO RELIGIOUS AND THE OTHER HAVING PASSED FROM RELIGIOUS INTO SECULAR.  HE WEAVES THESE TWO ENDS INTO A LITERARY PATTERN.  A book of Doublends Jined.  YES, DOUBLE-ENDS JOINED.  Cleaved.  YES.  AT THE SAME TIME, SPLIT APART AND JINED OR CHIMED OR CHAINED TOGETHER.  They say he lives in a brownstone in Brownsville.  GEORGIA NAMED HER, GEORGIA CLAIMED HER, SWEET GEORGIA BROWN.  I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT.  Webing frailty all about them.  THE FATHER'S SON WILL BEND HIS OWN NAME OR BEND HIS FATHER'S NAME?  Bend and twist.  WHAT COMES NEXT?

 

A cold wind teaches the lessons of humility.

I am not long on scorn, unless the catcher has his name up.

Cold opinion contains no shame.

And if the child is forced to stand in the rain

Then the monetary Saturday, the moon of June, will detain

  no marauders.

For...

 

NO, THAT COMES BEFORE.  THAT COMES BEFORE TWISTING HIS NAME INTO A CLEAVER.  Ole dredge, he brings the mud up from the very river bottom.  BEAVER BREAKER, ALL THUNDER AND WATRER CONTAMINANT IN HIS ALLOCATION.  Yes, but what comes after.

 

How many still walk with me?  How many have fallen,

Since the hound has taken free leave of his master?

 

ARE THESE THE WORDS OF JESUS -- OR OF OUR OWN MASTER?  Are we diamond dogs then -- to answer to another man's calling?  CUT HIS WORDS WHERE THEY LIE.  WE ARE NOT SOME DISCIPLES FOLLOWING IN THE METAFOOTSTEPS OF HIS WAVERING GHOST, FALLING WHEN HE FALLS, FALLING OFTEN EVEN WHEN HE DOES NOT!  Woof, warp.  STEPPING HIGH, ORNERY TO BE BILE.  Four-legged maneuvering from effectiveness.  LIFTING A LEG TO MANUFACTURE A CHARMING AZO YELLOW FOR OLD DROSSELMERYER'S NEXT PAINTING.  Browntown, where all the lights are bright.  Browntown.  HE SAYS, THE PETULANT CLERK.  SINGING IN A HIGHLY UNSATISFACTORY POPULARIZED VOCALIZATION.  Orphic ice veil.  NO.  YOU'RE NO SWINEBURNE.  A compliment perhaps?  A TIN LAY FOR A NINE SWAY.  Orphic lice.  STATUARY.  Truth, Freedom, Justice and Love.  STATUTORY.  Aye.  B-B-B-B-B-BROWNIES.  (Lashed with hay shish?)  NEIN.  You have to admire his weavery, his thievery; is he fevery?  NEIN.  NEIN ETRE.  I feel a number two approach.  THE BROWN ONE.  Yes.  THE FROID DEAN.  Heat-maker.  Coming from the full Cain alley, the fulminating belly.  WORKING AT THE VALLEY FORGE.  Pronto soar us texT.  I GREED.  Woman, wife, thy name is weaving.  YES, PENELOPE.  Cutting off the women's hair woven into plaits; weaving a lie, a veil, a fetish; weaving a non-existent penis.  The emperor's new clothes.  'We held that in a woman's dream a cloak stood for a man' -- one man writes.  Weaving the woman's pubic hair into a non-existent penis.  WHAT?  And another, the same: 'People say that women contributed but little to the discoveries and inventions of civilization; but perhaps, after all, they did discover one technical process, that of plaiting and weaving.  If this is so, one is tempted to guess at the unconscious motive at the back of this achievement.  Nature, herself, might be regarded as having provided a model for imitation, by causing pubic hair to grow at the period of sexual maturity so as to veil the genitals.  The step that remained to be taken was to attach the hairs permanently together; whereas on the body they are fixed in the skinn and only tangled with one another.  If you repudiate this idea as being fantastic, and accuse me (and my cigar) of having an idee fixe ON THE SUBJECT OF THE INFLUENCE EXERCISED BY THE LACK OF A PENIS UPON THE DEVELOPMENT OF FEMININITY, I cannot, of course, defend myself'.  A tangle of hair, a tissue of lies.  The web of social action.  The complexities of intellectual systems; a web of deceit, a woof wove called Science.  Hyphen, hymen, hymn, hypnos.  The net or nexus.  Networks of affiliation; the filial relation is not natural but artificial, threaded (filum).  The binding ties of obligations.  The close-knit groups.  The seamless garment of the church or state.  The shining looms of vegetation, where the tissue of the body is woven as a garment for the soul.  Durer's knots and Leonardo's concatenations.  In the ascent of the soul, the doffing of garments, the slipping of knots, the loosing of bonds, disaffiliation: 'the sum of these knots is called Psyche' -- the complexes, or complications.  GREAT MOTHER, MAYA, WEAVER OF THE WORLD, THE VEIL.  Insideous breed.  FOMENTING FROCKS.  You skirt the issue.  WOOFTERING AND WRAPPING AN ISSUE INSIDE A GLAUZZY SET ISSUE.  Master forecaster, stitching Metis to her pedestals.  ABU DHABI DOO.  Surly Charlie.  WHERE'S THE GRID, PEDESTRIAN?

 

ped(e)

pertaining to the foot or feet

 

pedagogue

a teacher, especially a pedant (see)

Greek, pais, child; agein, to lead

pedagogy

science or art of teaching

 

pedal

to operate by the foot or feet

Latin, pes, foot

pedant

teacher who emphasizes the

Greek, paidogogos, teacher

 

trivial points of learning

 

peddle

to go from place to place selling

Middle English, ped, basket

 

small articles

 

pederasty

sodomy between males, especially

Greek, paiderastes, lover of boys

 

between a man and a boy

 

pedestal

a bottom support or base of a pillar

Italian, pie, foot; di, of; stal, a rest

 

or a statue

 

pedestrian

done on foot; ordinary, dull

Latin, pes, foot

pediatrics

branch of medicine dealing with the

Greek, pais, child; iatros, physician

 

treatment of children or infants

 

pedicure

treatment of the feet and toenails

Latin, pes, foot; cura, care

pedigree

list of ancestors; lineage, line

Middle French, pie de grue, crane's

 

of descent; heritage

foot (in genealogical tree)

pediment

an ornamental gable or triangular

from Greek, pyramis, pyramid

 

piece on the front of a building, over

 

 

a doorway

 

pedometer

instrument carried to measure

Latin, pes, foot; metron, measure

 

foot travel

 

peduncle

a stalklike organ or process in some

 

 

plants, animals

 

 

 

 

pede

French: queer, faggot

 

 

 

 

pedaggio

Italian, toll

 

pedata

Italian, kick; footprint

 

pedina

Italian, pawn

 

pedinare

Italian, shadow

 

 

 

 

pedazo

Spanish, fall to pieces

 

pedernal

Spanish, flint

 

 

LOWEST OF LOWS.  The rock.  THE FOOT STANDING ON THE ROCK.  The Quid Pro Quo.  WHERE'S THE KID FENESTRATION.  A skill; he's ill.  READRITERRITHMATIC.  Political power is a web woven.  THE SPIDER'S HAND.  A web woven, a well-wrought veil; a veil of deceit, the veil of Maya.  It is a non-existent cloth, the Emperor's New Clothes, made by the imperial fiat, the fiat of Marduk: 'Open thy mouth: the cloth will vnaihs!  Speak again, and the cloth shall be restored!"  It is an endless task, as King Alfred learned from the spider.  WEAVE, OLD WEAVER!  WEAVE!  The King in council is weaving the sacred robe, the royal pallium or palliative.  The kind in council is waving a cloak of deceit, lying counsels, Metis.  Odysses (as well as his wife) is the most ingenious weaver, polymetis Odysseus; so is Prometheus.  Metis is a Lady, Mrs. Tweeedy, Maya, the big lie.  Metis was the first consort of King Zeus, whom Zeus swallowed, so that he might himself, in couvade, give birth to Athena (no slouch she either at weaving, as the spider-woman Arachne learnt to her cost).  But the cloth is a fetish, the mother's penis.  The word metis is the world medea, which means both 'counsels' and the male genitals.  Both meanings are contained in a Homeric phrase where the image is of cutting, castration, the medea of battle.  Political power is a plain in the pubic hair; and the woman who plaits it is the king.  In his royal robes, he is a transvestite.  Achilles hid among women; or Hercules, a knot tied in Omphales apron or navel string.  Politics as transvestitism.  ' The content of the perversion was 'Phallic girls do exist; I myself am one.''  Political power is Athena, the phallic girl.  Political power is a male female and a female male: Pallas Minerva (Phallus Minerva), mascula virgo or virago, springing fully armed from the head of Zeus: the very personification of an erection, the embodiment of Fenichel's equation: girl = phallus, the equation contained in the root vir-go, or in the idea of maiden-head or virgin knot.

 

VIR

 

 

virago

a quarrelsome, shrewish woman

Latin, vir, a man

viral

caused by a virus

 

vireo

American songbird with olive-green

 

 

or gray plumage

 

Virgil

70-19 BC Roman poet, Author of

 

 

Aenid

 

virgin

person, usually a woman, who has

Latin, virgo, a maiden

 

not experienced sexual intercourse

 

Virgo

the sixth sign of the zodiac

Latin, virgin

virgule

diagonal line (/) used in dates or

Latine, virgula, small rod

 

fractions or the sign of division

 

virile

characteristic of a man; having

Latin, vir, a man

 

strength or vigor; capable of

 

 

copulation

 

virtual

being so in effect but not in actual

 

 

fact

 

virtue

general moral excellence; good nature

Latin, virtus, manliness, worth

virtuoso

having a great technical skill, as in

 

 

music

 

virulent

extremely poisonous; bitterly antagon-

 

 

istic; filled with disease

 

virus

any of a group of small infectuous

Latin, a poison

 

agensts that cause disease

 

 

 

 

virage

French, change of course

 

viree

French, trip, outing

 

virer

French, to turn, to change, to throw out

 

virevolter

French, to spin, to turn round

 

virgule

French, comma; decimal point

 

 

 

 

virragio

Italian, to veer

 

 

 

 

virager

Spanish, to change direction

 

viruela

Spanish, small pox

 

virule

Spanish, crooked; damaged

 

 

I THINK IT IS CLEAR, AT THE RE-BIRTH, THAT THE ERECT PENIS AND THE APPEARANCE OF WOMEN ARE RELATED.  And the idea of the erect penis appears in the head before it reaches the lower body.  VIRGINITY, VIRILITY, VIRTUE AND THE VIRUS ARE RELATED.  All connnected in the same act?  AND VIRTUALITY, ITSELF, BEING THE KIND OF WOVEN MAYA CLOTH THAT SEEMS ONE THING BUT IS ANOTHER.  Virtue has its root in the Latin for manliness.  VIRGULE, THE SMALL ROD THAT DIVIDES OR FRACTIONATES, IS, IS IT NOT, THE EMBLEM OF VULVA?  Please, this talk is going no where.  NO?  LOOK, MY FRIEND AT VULVA: VULCAN; VULCANIZE (HARD RUBBER); VULGAR; VULGARIAN; VULGATE (THE VERNACULAR BIBLE); VULNERABILITY; VULPINE (THE CUNNING FOX); VULTURE; VULVA.  Ahh.  You look for atoms.  I LOOK AT LOVE.  Ahh, sweet virgule.  ROSEBED'S DELICATE FASTENER.  Dividing whole numbers.  YES.  Into fractions.  YES.  Is it the 'Dog from Hell', then, which has been freed by his master? 

 

He knows the prostitutes' faces by names.

Perhaps he even knows their thighs, and the grace stains

  of their honey,

Which was sweeter by far when the rain was not falling.

Each line in her cheek bears inscriptions of broken dreams.

Either to drink or to drink of the fiery penis she has turned.

The names of each pleasure are not her concern;

Social Morality or Justice are but houses along the road,

Houses which she has passed,

Which only offered protection from age:

A cosmetic alliance with territorial rebuke.

 

LIKE JESUS HE HAS WALKED WITH THE LOW, THE DISAPPOINTED, THE DESPERATE.  Prostitutes.  Say what it is.  YOU SEE, HE CONSTRUCTIONS A LABYRINTH WITH HIS WARP AND WOOFT, WITH HIS WEAVING WAYS.  MAN WITH A VULVA.  THE MAN WHO HAS SPLIT HIMSELF, SPLIT HIMSELF; SPLIT HIS PENIS, IN A SENSE.  DIVIDED HIMSELF.  Unified himself.  FIERY PENIS AND YAWNING VULVA LOCKED TOGETHER IN A DANCE OF STATE.  Fusion contusion inside the man.  THE FALL BEING THE DIVISION.  And the salvation being the multiplication.  The virgule as it is, as a symbol of division (/) and the anti-vigule, its opposite, laid on top of it, so to speak (x).  The X.  LABYRINTH, LABIA.  Canis minor and Canis major.

 

She stopped, and almost knocked--

But a voice told her once that all certainty

  was penal logic.

The slave-owner speaks regarding the language of highest good,

As though communal possession and the verb had a common name.

Giving me medicine to save me from error;

Giving religion to save me from faith.

 

SHE STOPPED AT THE HOUSE OF DECENCY AND ORDER.  TO HER, LIVING IN THIS HOUSE WOULD BE BUT A KIND OF INCARCERATION.  'Penal logic' clearly means more than this.  SHE IS A FEMINIST.  SHE REFUSES TO LIVE THE LIFE WHERE THE MAN RULES, WHERE THE PENIS RULES.  She sees the penis as being a kind of prison.  AND STILL SHE MAKES HE LIVING UNDER THE DOMINANCE OF THE PENIS, QUITE LITERALLY.  BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF THE PENIS.  Clearly the man rules not in the House of Decency and Order.  Surely the woman rules this house.  The woman rules in my house.  Why would a man pay to sleep with a prostitute if he was ruling his own castle.  THE SLAVE-OWNER.  THIS SUGGESTS A VIEW OF THE HOUSE OF DECENCY AND ORDER.  THE PATRIARCHY.  Yet the Slave-Owner is speaking about the highest good.  Why?  PARADOX.  THERE IS NO DISCUSSION OF HIGHEST GOOD EXCEPT IN A.  Stop.  PAIR OF DUCKS.  Yes.  YES, I QUITE AGREE.  (Laughter.)  VERY FUNNY.  I WAS TRYING TO BE SERIOUS.  The slave-owner does not speak about the 'highest good'; he speaks regarding the 'language' of highest good.  This too is not clear.  Does he speak regarding the language which describes the highest good; or does he speak regarading the language which is the highest good?  OH, YES, I SEE.  IS POETRY, ITSELF, THE HIGHEST GOOD?  He does not say that poetry is that language.  Perhaps there is a language higher than poetry.  OR IS HE BEING SARCASTIC?  IS HE ATTACKING MARXISM?  OR ANY KIND OF UTOPIANISM?  THE NEXT LINE SEEMS TO INDICATE THIS: 'AS THOUGH COMMUNAL POSSESSION AND THE VERB HAD A COMMON NAME'.  Which verb is it anyway?  To be?  Is he speaking of being?  OR THE VERB AS A GENERA?  THE VERB AS OPPOSED TO THE NOUN?  THE VERB AS THE ELEMENT OF ACTION?  Action, as opposed to re-action?  I THINK THE WHOLE PASSAGE IS A NEGATION OF MARXISM.  UTOPIANISM.  LOOK AT THE NEXT TWO LINES.  UTOPIANS GIVE HIM MEDICINE TO SAVE HIM FROM ERRORS.  IDEOLOGIES ARE MEDICINES WHICH DICTATE THE SHAPE OF THE WORLD, ELIMINATING ERRORS OF PERCEPTION OR UNDERSTANDING.  'GIVING RELIGION TO SAVE ME FROM FAITH.'  CLEARLY, MARXISM WAS AN ANTI-RELIGION; A RELIGION OF ATHEISM.  So, he is saying that the prostitute does not need to be saved?  PERHAPS.  Yes, it seems so.  REMEMBER, THIS POEM IS ENTITLED 'A FATHER'S TESTAMENT TO HIS SON UPON HIS DEATHBED'.  This is knowledge being passed from the Father to the Son....when?  Before the Father dies?  OR BEFORE THE SON IS BORN.  IT IS A BIT DUBIOUS.  WE ARE TOLD -- IT IS EXPLAINED TO US THAT THE SON IS BEING RE-BORN.  THAT IS CLEARLY A KIND OF DEATH.  The son is moving from a wholeness of one kind to a wholeness on another.  A wholeness of humanity, to the neglect of his own family, to a wholeness of his family, to the neglect of humanity.  WHAT?  Moving from one wholeness to another, each of which is an illusion.  BROWN BETTY IS BUILT FOR THE BODY OF HUMANITY, THE SPECIES OF THE ONE LIFE.  One illusion to the next.  PEHAPS.  BROWN BETTY SAYS THAT UNITY IS FOUND, NOT IN THE SOUL OR THE MIND BUT IN THE BODY.  Vapor caper.  MANDRAKE'S MANIC FORESAKER.  Shank.  IT IS AN OLD TESTAMENT THEN, IN A SENSE.  Yes.  An Old Testament, as opposed to a New Testament.

 

I see.  And the man in crocodile gaiters throws a rose

  into a bin;

Certainly someone has saved me from pain;

As I hear soft men and hard women speak of nurture;

I hear that women have their pricks up:

The balloon is not safe, if it carries many dreams.

 

Someone hands Iago the mask of his father.

Hamlet paints his face black, and goes to stand in the woods:

Preparing himself for incendiary folly,

Like a priest laying coins on the eyes of his sister.

War is not a special occasion;

In the common and the daily and the drone there is extinction.

Come all ye faithful, and hear the caterwalk of mice.

The field is green, and has yet to be sown;

The many seas are on the garden;

And the cabbage has sold its hood to the cleric.

 

WAVE ON.  WEAVE ON.  WHAT COLOR IS YOUR THREAD?  I see.  Of course, he is the man in crocodile gaiters -- we remember that his nickname in school was 'Gator'.  The crocodile is also the symbol of Makara, which is associated with the sign of Capricorn, that of the scapegoat.  HE THROWS A ROSE INTO A BIN.  A bin ladened with...?  WELL, WITH ROSES NOW.  What kind of a bin?  Why a bin?  A BIN IS A PLACE, GENERALLY, WHERE YOU DISCARD SOMETHING.  SO HE IS DISCARDING THIS ROSE.  THIS ROSE IS NO LONGER BENEFICIAL TO HIM?  IS THIS ROSE CONNECTED TO THE PROSTITUTE WE JUST MET?  He continues to speak of utopianism, remember.  A world where the rose is not important.  Beauty is not important -- a bourgeois value.  A BIN, OF COURSE, HAS ANOTHER MEANING: A CRIB.  There is irony in the next line: 'certainly someone has saved me from pain'.   'AS I HEAR SOFT MEN AND HARD WOMEN SPEAK OF NURTURE.'  Yes, clearly this is a reaction to utopianists of the New Age gender.  MATRIARCHY.  He is the son being born out of the womb of the Matriarchy -- as an opponent to his mother.  'I HEAR THAT WOMEN HAVE THEIR PRICKS UP' -- AHH, YES, CLEARLY A REACTIONARY.  Or a Sun Hero, depending how you see it.  A SON BORN FROM HIS FATHER'S BRAIN.  Zeus deus.  ZEUS GOOSE, SPRUCED AND PREPUCED.   Then here comes the image of race.  IAGO, OF COURSE, IS THE VILLAINOUS OPPONENT OF OTHELLO, THE MOOR, THE BLACK MAN.  SOMEONE IS HANDING IAGO THE MASK OF HIS FATHER -- IN A SIMILAR WAY, CROSSMANN IS BEING HANDED THE MASK OF HIS FATHER.  And Hamlet appears; but he paints his face black, and goes to stand in the woods, preparing for war.  WHY DOES HE PAINT HIS FACE BLACK?  Of course, Hamlet's father has been murdered by his own brother who them marries Hamlet's mother.  HAMLET PAINTS HIS FACE BLACK, IN AN ACT OF HIDING IN MADNESS.  HIDING IN THE WOODS, OF COURSE, ALSO SYMBOLIZES CHOOSING MADNESS.  BUT WHAT HAS IAGO TO DO WITH HAMLET?  Crreping phlox.  IAGO DECEIVES OTHELLO INTO AN ACT OF RACE AT THE SUGGESTION OF OTHELLO'S WIFE'S INFIDELITY.  BOTH ARE CONNECTED THROUGH INFIDELITY.  And through murder.  HE MAKES IT CLEAR HE IS PREPARING FOR WAR.  HAMLET IS PREPARING FOR 'INCENDIARY FOLLY'.  Yes.  WAR AGAINST INFIDELITY?  Yes.  WAR AGAINST THE INFIDEL, IN OTHER WORDS?  Yes.  HAMLET HAS PAINTED HIMSELF BLACK AND PREPARES FOR WAR; Iago is white, apparently, and has been given his father's mask.  Is Crossmann not presenting us with a picture of both sides of the equation.  Northern Hemisphere and Southern Hemisphere, in his own cartography?  North versus South.  LIGHT VERSUS DARKNESS.  Yes.  PERHAPS.  But then the strange reference to the priest laying coins on the eyes of his sister.  The sister is dead apparently.  Is it Hamlet's sister; or the priest's sister?  HOW IS HAMLET'S PREPARATION IN THE WOODS FOR FIRE LIKE A PRIEST LAYING COINS ON THE EYES OF SOMEONE'S SISTER?  Hamlet is both the priest and the sister.  In preparing for battle, Hamlet turns himself to God -- that is, becomes a kind of priest -- and lays coins on the eyes of his sister, the feminine half of his nature, the darkness, which has made him weak and indecisive.  INTERESTING CALL, SVIPDAG.  Thank you, yourself, Amleth.  HE SPEAKS OF WAR AS BEING INHERENT IN NATURE; HE THEN INVOKES THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS -- 'COME ALL YE FAITHFUL' -- CONNECTING HAMLET/IAGO, HIMSELF IN OTHER WORDS, NOW WITH TWO BROTHER NATURES INSTEAD OF A BROTHER-SISTER NATURE.  IT IS CHRISTMAS, THE SEASON WHEN THE WORLD SAVIOR IS BORN.  Monomaniac megalomaniopolos.  THIS IS FOLLOWED BY SCENES OF INFERTILITY: THE FIELD IS GREEN, BUT UNPLANTED; SEAS COVER THE GARDENS.  IT IS A TIME OF FLOOD.  And the cabbage has sold his hood to the cleric.  THE CABBAGE HAS MANY HOODS ON COURSE; PEEL ONE OFF AND YOU HAVE ANOTHER.  The cabbage is the September 19 birthday flower symbolizing gain or profit.  It is an emblem of self-will.  I resolves into ac-ab-aj, mighty orb or sun.  It is also called cole, which resolves into ak-ol, great god.  YES.  ETYM-SCARRAB.  Harem-Scarem.  YES.  The great god has a hood to sell.  THE HOOD, OF COURSE, ALSO CONNECTS TO THE PENIS AND CIRCUMCISION.  The Sun takes off his hood (moyle, moyle, you be de foil) and sells not the real thing, the rod of power, but the discarded piece to the church, to the cleric.  THE HOOD IS ALSO A SIGN OF DEATH.  THE CABBAGE SELLS THE HOOD TO THE CLERIC; AND THEN THE CHURCH, INSTEAD OF NATURE, BECOMES THE EMBLEM OF DEATH.  The church will grow, will become profitable, now that it has the emblem, the hood, of the cabbage.  HOW DO THEY SEE ALL OF THAT?  The comma's been lauded as an element of trochee.  A MEASURE ENANGLING DICTATED RHYTHM IN A SENTENCE.  A musical notation.  YES.  BUT WHAT DOES THIS TELL US ABOUT ALL THE BEANS IN CHINA?  We are drifting.  IN A BOAT.  In the China Sea.  NO LESS.  We are drifting.  WITHOUT A COAT.  In a salty moat.  I CONFESS.  (Childlike applause.)  IS HE THE WARRIOR-POET THEN?  A commodity so large.  SPOKEN OF FRESH MATTERS, GAINSAYINGLY, A HOMONYM THAT CLATTERS.  Painstakingly.  WE MUST NOT FORGET THAT KING ARTHURS HAD A HOUND NAMED CABAL.  OF COURSE, CABAL MEANS, IN ANOTHER SENSE, CABALA, HIDDEN KNOWLEDGE.  MICHAEL CROSSMANN WAS A STUDENT OF THE CABALA, THROUGH OUR FRIEND HELENA, MADAME B.  SO THE QUESTION REMAINS: 'HOW MANY HAVE FALLEN, SINCE THE HOUND HAS TAKEN FREE LEAVE OF HIS MASTER'.   ANOTHER WAY OF ASKING THIS QUESTION IS: SINCE THE MASTER HAS TAKEN FREE LEAVE OF HIS HOUND.  FOR WHEN CROSSMANN EXPERIENCED RE-BIRTH, HE LOST CONTACT WITH THE DARK PALACE OF THE OCCULT.  HIS FALL WAS, IN ANOTHER real SENSE, A RISING FROM THE DEAD.  A LEAVING BEHIND OF THE WORLD OF THE DEAD, THE SPIRITUAL WORLD, THE DARKNESS.  AT NIGHT, MANY STARS ARE SEEN; AND LIGHT FROM THESE MANY STARS PASSES RIGHT THROUGH THE BODY.  MANY VOICES; MANY CONTAMINATIONS.  POLYTHEISM.  BUT WHEN THE DAY COMES BACK, THE STARS ARE GONE.  THE ONLY STAR THAT ENTERS THE BODY IS THE LIGHT OF OUR SUN.  HENCE, HE BECOMES POSSESSED OF THE ONE GOD, THE LOCAL GOD, THE GOD WHO RULES THE EARTH, THE GOD WHO IS GONE DURING THE NIGHT, WHEN THE MANY VOICES ARE HEARD AND THE MANY LIGHTS ARE SEEN.  THE OCCULT, THE CABALA, IS A LANGUAGE OF THE NIGHT.  RE-BIRTH OF THE DAYLIGHT RE-ENGENDERS A COVENANT WITH THE LOCAL GOD, OUR GOD, OUR OWN STAR, THE SUN -- AND THE DAYLIGHT.  How many have fallen since Crossmann was given his freedom from the Cabala.  WHEN ONE BROTHER RISES, THE OTHER BROTHER FALLS.  WHEN ONE PRINCIPLE RISES, THE OTHER PRINCIPLE FALLS.  WHEN THE NORTHERN HEMISPHERE RISES, THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE FALLS, OR ENTERS NIGHT, OBSCURATION.  MOVES INTO RADIO WAVES (THE AUDITORY). WHEN THE NORTH SEES, THE SOUTH HEARS.

 

Ahh.  Inevitable cynicism -- batterramming at the door.

Autumn's precious surrender of stones, by men in eurythmical

  gowns marked with blood;

The killer returns to his home in the village;

The woman now worries that her man might not rise.

 

Cockofthewalk and countryoftherose;

The woman's skirt is sited storing many tales and too much wheat.

Other men in the town seek the excess of her harvest;

When the husband is away, many play, and many barter;

As the ritual of generation degenerates into a cudgel.

Only violence cures the heart from too much supper

  on every plate;

If the child is bred to remain always a child

Then Vitality eats the childbread;

And steals away the mother to perform rituals

  of obscene angles.

 

See, he even steals from himself now.  THERE ARE CYCLES OF FULLNESS FOLLOWED BY CYCLES OF EMPTINESS.  CYCLES OF OUT-BREATHING FOLLOWED BY CYCLES OF IN-BREATHING, OF WEAVING PRE-EXISTING MATTER INTO BRAIDS.  That is in-breathing, you say?  OF COURSE, CYNICISM IS THE LAST STAGE OF THE SOULLESS INTELLECT.  THE STAGE OF DEATH IN THE MENTAL SPHERE.  A BELIEF IN NOTHING.  And the 'batterramming' suggests something sexual, something phallic.  Of course, we are also being given a picture of utopianism run amock.  CAN'T YOU SAY COMMUNISM?  Matriarchy.  YES, THE WOMEN HAVE THEIR PRICKS UP.  THE BALLOON IS NOT SAFE.  The dreaded knock on the door at night -- which, in truth, is dreaded in each end of totaliatarian rule, right or left.  BUT IT IS CYCNICISM WHICH IS BATTERING DOWN THE DOOR AT THIS POINT -- THE LAST STAGE OF THE GODLESS MIND.  Yes.  The Ram, of course, is the symbol of Aries -- this designates the Spring.  And Spring in the north is co-existent with Autumn in the South.  We hear of 'Autumn's precious surrender of stones'.  Of course, stones is a euphemism for testicles.  I'm not sure if that is what is meant here.  THE STONE REPRESENTS THE ALTAR, AN IMAGE OF DEITY.  OF COURSE, MOSES COMMANDMENTS FROM SINAI WERE CARVED IN STONE.  Who surrenders the stones?  'MEN IN EURYTHMICAL GOWNS MARKED WITH BLOOD'.  White men, wearing the robes of priests.  IS THAT WHAT IS SAID HERE?  'Eurythmical gowns' -- what else would this be?  EURYTHMICAL SUGGESTS SEVERAL THINGS.  I SUGGEST EUREKA, 'I FOUND IT!'  BUT, EVEN MORE, THE URETHRA -- THE MALE ORGAN OF COPULATION, THROUGH WHICH SPERM IS DISCHARGED.  This, in line with the afraidian view.  CROSSMANN ALSO HAS AN INTELLECTUAL DISTRUST OF AMERICAN INTELLECTUALS WHO LIVE IN THE EUROPEAN SHADOW.  THOSE WHO EXHIBIT ONLY SHAME AT THEIR AMERICAN HERITAGE.  WHO APOLOGIZE TO EUROPEANS FOR BEING AMERICANS, SO MUCH LESSER THAN THEIR EUROPEAN PROGENITORS.  The men in 'Eurhythmical gowns' are not Europeans -- but intellectual European-wannabe Americans.  LET US NOT FORGET THE EURYTHMY OF RUDOLPH STEINER, THE NEW AGE RHYTHM DANCING AS A TOOL OF EDUCATION AND THERAPY, OF GETTING ONESELF, IF I MAY USE THIS PHRASE, 'IN TOUCH WITH NATURE' AGAIN.  So, the New Agers are wearing bloodied gowns.  YES.  It is the New Age which is bloodied; and which is surrendeering the stones, the gonads.  WE DON'T KNOW IF THE BLOOD ON THE GOWNS BELONGS THE THE WEARERS OF THE GOWNS OR, INSTEAD, TO THEIR VICTIMS.  The New Agers, then, may have been the moyles; that is, they may have been the ones to cut off the stones of the Sun-God, giving his stones back to the earth, in a ritual castration.  YES.  The ones who hate the father-son plot his demise, cut him to wound him -- thereby turning out the lights.  SO THE AUTUMN MARKES THE SURRENDER OF THE BLOODY CHURCH -- OR THE BLOODY MURDER OF THE OLD CHURCH BY THIS NEW CHURCH, THE CHURCH IS WAITING?  The coming home.  THE ADVENTURER, THE KILLER, HAVING GONE OUT TO EXPERIENCE THE WORLD, RETURNS HOME, WEARIED.  'The killer returns to his home in the village.  The woman now worries that her man might not rise.'  HERE, AGAIN, THE SPECTRE OF INVASION.  Or provide her with sexual pleasure.  PERHAPS THESE ARE THE SAME THING.  To become a man, to have an erection -- perhaps that, and blood on the gown, go together.  The Day separating from the Night, wouding the Night (we have the image of the marital night, and blood on the gown when the bride's maidenhead is broken) -- and punishing the Night for its darkness.  We must remember that the Day is born out of catastrophe, pestilence, starvation, disease.  And the Night gets clamed for these social ills, inevitably.  For the Night is the voice that says sin is virtue, disease is health.  Night is the anti-Universe.  THE GODLESS UNIVERSE.  The Day is a kind of exorcism of the Darkness.  REMEMBER THE WIFE'S CONCERN, IN FINNEGAN'S WAKE, THAT HER HUSBAND WILL NOT RISE.  AT THE END OF THE NOVEL.  PERHAPS MOISHE CAN LOOK IN HIS SATCHEL FOR THE EXACT QUOTE.  I BELIEVE IT'S PAGE... Sex nine teens.  WHAT?  YES.  I BELIEVE IT IS.

 

Soft morning, city!  Lsp!  I am leafy speafing.  Lpf!  Folty and folty all the nights have falled on to long my hair.  Not a sound, falling.  Lispn!  No wind no word.  Only a leaf, just a leaf and then leaves.  The woods are fond always.  As were we their babies in.  And robins in crews so.  It is for me goolden wending.  Unless?  Away!  Rise up, man of the hooths, you have slept so long!  Or is it only so mesleeems?  On your pondered palm.  Reclined from cape to pede.  With pipe on bowl.  Terce for a fiddler, sixt for makmerriers, none for a Cole.  Rise up now and aruse!  Norvena's over.  I am leafy, your goolden, so you called me, may me life, yea your goolden, silve me solve, exsogerraider!  You did so drool.  I was so sharm.  But there's a great poet in you too.  Stout Stokes would take you offly.  So has he as bored me to slump. But am good and rested.  Taks to you, toddy, tan ye.  Yawhawaw.  Helpunto min, helpas vin.  Here is your shirt, the day one, come back....

 

MAN OF HOOVES?  THE DEVIL?  Howths.  Man of Mountains.  Man who moves mountains.  COME BACK FROM DREAMS.  I am leafy, she says; you are goolden.  A combination of good and ghoul.  A Holy Spirit.  She is the Earth; and he is the Sun.  'SILVE ME SOLVE'  SOUNDS LIKE AN ALCHEMIST'S COMMAND.  'Exsogerraider'.  We should probably look at this word in depth.  It is 'one who exaggerates' on the surface.  But it is also 'raider'.  'Ex' is one-time.  'Soger' -- in German, 'sogenannt' means 'so-called'.  'Raider' of course is a pirate or an invader.  WHICH HER HUSBAND WAS, IN AN EARLIER LIFE, AN EARLIER INCARNATION - A USURPER, A FOREIGNER, TAKING OVER HER COUNTRY.  The sexual is what makes the world go 'round.  IT IS LIFE.  And, in Crossmann's poem, the sexual returns.  'Cockofthewalk and countryoftherose.'  Cock and cunt reside in this sentence together -- there is some kind of sexual unity.  And then he goes in to the wife's infidelities in the husband's absence -- during his Odyssean trials.  The 'woman's skirt is sited storing many tales and too much wheat': skirts, tales and wheat are things which are woven together surely.  Wheat is a symbol of prosperity; and, in the West, it is considered the staff of life -- staff, of course, being a emblem for the male sex organ.  The creator's spermatic power.  IT IS 'GOOLDEN' CLEARLY.  Yes.  BUT THE 'RITUAL OF GENERATION DEGENERATES INTO A CUDGEL'.  INTO A CLUB, WHICH IS A EUPHEMISM FOR A HARD PENIS BUT ALSO DESIGNATES BRUTALITY AND PUNISHMENT.  The next line is quite a mystery: 'Only violence cures the heart from too much supper on every plate.'  Does this connect with the cudgel?  Is he advocating wife-beating here?  I THINK NOT.  HE IS WRITING ABOUT THE EVILS OF THE UNDISCIPLINED SOCIETY.  The spoiled society, where the people have too much to eat, too many pleasures.  VIOLENCE CURES THIS?  Well, he amplifies this idea in the next few lines: 'If the child is bred to remain always a child, then Vitality eats the childbread; and steals away the mother to perform rituals of obscene angles.'  VITALITY IS THE PRINCIPLE OF LIFE.  VITALITY IS THE INVADING PRINCIPLE.  THE PRINCIPLE OF THE HUN,  THE PRINCIPLE OF THE BARBARIAN.  It is a warning.  WHERE IS MISTER SPIRAL?  It seems he has disappeared into old Santa's bag.  TROCODERO.  Samantha and the white-haired boy.  SILVIA POURS COFFEE AND OFFERS A SMILE.  SHE PUTS THE TWO BROTHERS IN A WOVEN BASKET AND SENDS THEM WESTWARD.  Anarchy in a cask.  SPEAKING OF REALITY.  What?  SPEAKING OF REALITY.  Is that ambulences I hear?  THUNDER?  Stones thrown against stones.  Evoking fire.  HE IS SLEEPING, I THINK.  KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN.  REALITY IS A FINE THING, BUT NOT WHEN ONE IS WAKING.  Funny, I'm not cold any longer.  NO WONDER, WITH HOW YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING THAT BREW.  He drinks like an Irishman.  And sings like one too. G O.  MATRIX.  LAB OF RINSE.  CUNT IN YOU.  SIR.  Yes.  HE WANTS TO CONTINUE HIS RANT ABOUT THE FILBERT MC GEE ANF FOLLY SEQUENCE; AND TELL HOW MOLLY MAKES A TREE TAKE ON LEAVES IN AN ITALIAN RATIO.  Pastiche.  PARDONE.  Past stitch.  SOME KIND OF MENTAL MOSH-PIT.  In which we are all being pushed and pulled, lifted and slung.  LIKE RIFF RAFF ON A ROCKING RANDY RIVERSVIEW.  Shellfish.  YES, SHE IS.  Smelling like.  SYLVIAS SELL FISH.  RIFF AND RAFF RULE BY RUDE RIOT; RHOME WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.  Sylvia welds a boat from her thoughts.  REAMS OF LUCK; THEN ROAM US.   AND GLOAM US.  Globulus; Cobulus -- Popeye preps his pre-absolvences.  CORNPORN CAPRI KORAN.  FORELORN UNBORN SWELLBORNE UNDERTHORN.  Underthrone?  THUNDERTHRONE.  Yes.  PLEASE.  Yes, please.  OX OF MA'S BEEN ROTTEN.  Drop a bomb on his corporate head.  Cut the ram's throat for the festival.  FESTIVUS?  Please Mister Can't Stand You -- don't go outside wearing that cape.  THE FESTIVAL OF APES.  Yes -- for those closer to the ground.  THE ONES ON THE GROUND NEVER FALL.  THEY'RE MERELY COVERED BY LEAVES.  And they molder.  OLDER IS COLDER.  THE DEAD BECOME SOLDIERS.  Seeking Vulcan's fire to make them warm.  TO MAKE SOLDIER'S BLACK SODDER CLIMB BACK OUT OF THE DAUGHTER.  Mister Brown's lovely daughter.  CLIMBING OUT OF HER WOMB, LIKE EVE, HERSELF, CLIMBS OUT OF ADAM'S RIBCAGE.  Pushed out by the powers of....Greco projection.  ECHO PROJECTION.  Conseco projection.  SEXEXCHECKO PROJECTION.  MANDIBLES AT WILL.  Cornices of entropy.  WHERRE WERE WE?  Before what?  BEFORE THIS LAST TANTALIZING DIGRESSION.  We speak of ....romans.  YES, MEN LOVING WOMEN AT ODD SCENE ANGLES.  Methane Master.  WHEW!!!  Six sheets to the wind.  SIX WHEATS TO THE WIND.  What is that smale?  GINSMINSTER.  Hard G.  LET THE POET READ THE POET.  What is being said?  THE MAN OF SWEAT AND BREAD AND FOLKAL MATTER RETURNS.  Let him read the Last Testament so we can prepare for this next world.  UMM.  (He clears his throut.)  TIDE EYE LOOKS; TIE DEAD IS READY TO STINK.  All lands gain burghers when burghermaster shrieks. 

 

Poor performance begets scenes of nihilation.

Those who seem to know decide that they would rather die young.

Irons in the fire, poker hot, brand the calves.

"M"-on-"M" gives us "X" inside a pod.

Fire is worshipped when the night has a crystal gale.

Lovers have marched from the Spring into surly Autumn.

Each plots the other's murder; but Mordred stacks the hammers

  on wheels.

 

DAMN -- THAT MAN CAN TALLTALK.  Is he done yet?  DID CROSSMANN WRITE THAT -- SIMPLY BUT GRIEVOUSLY?  Of course he dod.  Years ago, when he was....gored by his goods.  AND NOW?  IS HE THE SAME MAN?  IS HE SPEAKING THE WORDS AS THE MOUTHPATCH OF HIS FATHERGOD?  He is not speaking any words now -- he seems to be sleeping.  Dreaming about some openopera somewhere.  And some pastlove pastdove pastiched in a parsed song of germ men.  DRAGON THAT HE IS.  I see why men faire him.  YES.  I see why Opera wants him dead.  NOT DEAD -- JUST NEUTERIZED.  He laminated.  PRECIOUS FACTORY OF WORDS.  Where do the numbers come in?  Which seems less fluted.  GINSBURG TURNS AND FRANK REMEMBERS.  Frank James?  JAMES IS FRANK, TRULY.  BUT HE HAS QUALITIES OTHER THAN THESE.  I see.  AUGUSTUS ROARS.  Antigone howls.  POOR PERFORMANCE IS A SOFT WOODY COFFINPOX.  Melville would say.  NIHILATION IS A RELIGION OF FRENCH CIGARETTE SMOCKERS.  Ten-pin alley ints bent on dead pairs.  In holy coffin houses in pairs ids laminating.  HELL ANIMATED.  Having no boat to rally them across acreages of bad water turned black with acidic transformations and oceaninc angst canktified by brimrock.  YOUNG POLE SUTURED.  ALL BURNT COME DUES.  Smoke, smoke, smoke 'til you die.  FRAGMENTED PARTS OF CINEMA. 

 

                                               

 

The 'am' and the 'not-am' -- reflected down -- converged, become the crossroads.  MASS AXE MISSILE.  Rotation.

 

                                               

 

BECOME THE 8 AGAIN I'M TOLD.  M&M, 13 + 13 equals 26.  OUR CLASS.  Yes, our precious, threateened class.  TRIANGLE HIGH AND TRIANGLE LOW DESCEND ON THE POINTE DE TOUCHE.  The Bridge of Touche?  NEIN.  Clever men!  There is nothing worse.  CLEAVER MEN ARE WORSE.  Broadhatted men with acts.  MORE DREAD IS WHOM, BESIDES THE PAINFULLY LITERAL.  Megaton.  BOY OF WOLF WAS BRAEMED BY ELF HYSTER.  Megaton.  BOY OF WOLF BY LORE; BOY OF WOLF BY SUCKLED CURSE ABOVE THE DAMNPLED REEVES WORD BOREND.  Mordred.  ARTHUR MOVED IN SLEEP TO CARVE A CAVE INSIDE HIS SISTER'S THIGH.  The cistern's eye.  CARVING AND CARVING, GORGE WASHING DOWN CARVINGS.  Morgue house.  THE FLOW COULD BURY A PEAK IN WIDE SUDS MILK AND WHEY.  She mourned.  A SEED INSIDE THE GARDEN SHOWN.  Mordred outkommen sulking in load angles and the handy Magician, like our own, muling also, a treed man upon his back, warned jung Artthor ov evil coming from zeed of ink saids.  KEEP YOUR PETER IN YOUR OWN CHLURCH, HE CRIED!  TOO LATE FOR THE CURE!  And Artsword sent all fist-borne into baskets woven from latie's hands into rivers of roaring 'magulate rage, that they would eye quietly the sun's enameling core, sin king like argonite deep into zorrow.  BUT MORTE DEAD FOUND IN HANDS OF SCALES AND WORMS OF MEN WHO PULLED FROM IVER'S EYEMEN TALKING VISH OF MEN, WHO SCHOOLED THE TROUT ABOUT HIS HIGH NEST, PREPARING HIM TO X ONERATE BROAD ADDER OF LIGHT, BRUTER OF DEI.  UNCLE OF ROME"S DEBUNKING.  Mordred would not die; but came back to author a seat in the sewdiac.  THE BLACK SEAT.  Jew dance.  JUDE ASS.  Aye.  OFF TO ROME TO BADDLE THE WOELF WENT ARTIE'S MEN, DEVENDERS OF RIDE.  Behind lay Mordred, between Guiniverre's legs, banging the drum and strumming the ankless lyric, Guinn's pebbles.  BACK CAME MONONCLE TO FIND HIS LOVE RAVENED; AND SOUGHT HE A DUAL PARSIMONIOUS CANE.  As Sir Triste's handome uncle did.  IN CAMLAN BAY THE EDDIED A SCARE, DERIDING THE BLOOD AND OVERPOWERING SAD SMELLS.  With broodblood.  CATALYTIC MESSENGER.  X-Man.  Marking out a rood.  BUT MORDRED STANKS HAMMERS ON WELDS.  Mex that he is.  I BEG YOUR PARDON.  It is easy to beg.  PUT A BOMB IN YOUR SHOE; AND PROVE YOU ARE A SHREW.  Wear a black dress.  FOR MOLTING.  Speak your own obstacles too.  NEW ROSES ARE HANDED TOE ACH ROUGE WHEN HE PHALLS. 

 

                                   

 

Two N's an ancient M compose.  The Ns a Z.  The Zs, the 22.  The Z flipped, an S.  The Z S married, overloaded, burrowing on each other like two cats in heed -- this, too, presents an X.  INTERESTING ICON.  IT'S MEANING ELUDES ME -- BUT IT IS INTRIGUING AS A FORM.  Mina Nina.  NONA MONA.  SANTA ANNA.  ZED.  X'ed.  WHO DOES HAMMERS BESIDES MORDRED?  Who is Thor, Alex?  WHO IS VULCAN?  One hundred dollars to the man with sleep in his eyes and rye whiskey on his breath.  VOMIT STAINS ON HIS LAPEL.  Creamed salmon sauce, sir -- spilled during dinner!  OH.  Vico's bleek peaking new-recombinant deity.  WHEN THEY PERFORM HIS AUTOPSY, THEY WILL BE SHOCKED TO DISCOVER A BROWNISH STREAK INSIDE HIS SHORTS.  There will be no shock, friend.  AFROID THOU ART.  TELL US THOU YOU THINE OWN FREARS PROJECT ON UNDERS.  Shapes; papes.  POPES; HOPES.  Hypes; types.  TAPES; DATERAPES.  Morgan organ.  WHERE IS THAT DAMNED GEOMETRER?  In someone's sac, I fear.  SAC OF CRAP; KNACK FOR CRAPOLA, I HEAR -- STUFFED INSIDE A SHIRT.  What time is it?  THERE IS NO TIME HERE.  Only space?   YOU COULD CALL IT THAT, MY DREAM MUFFIN.  Six-sided butterball.  DOUBLE BUTTERBALL SICK SACKET.  Cream of mushroom on his collar.  HAS HE BEEN HANGING OUT WITH THE PUFFBALLS DOWN IN TRIBECA'S PARLOR.  Frisco the cat has a malt in his pocket.  SILENCE, THEE!  WE ARE, ALL OF US, CATHOLICS HERE.  Is that true?  THINK NOT ABOUT TRUTH WHEN HUMOR IS INVOLVED.  I see.  SIX.  SIX SIDES.  Sex slides.  SLOWLY.  Keep it slow, she says.  I like the way it feels when it slips out, and comes back in again.  ANNA PRECONDITA.  Anna prick end items.  CATHODE LICKS.  HEAR.  Anna, she is dear.  A name running both directions.  Enter her here or enter her there -- always come back out at the same abutment of confusion.  POOR PERFORMANCE IS A DEAD DICK.  The dead dick generates reams and reams of nihilation.  SHORTER RITING TO CLAIMUS THAT LIFE IS DIS-EASE; AND THEN WE BE GUM DUST.  His cigarette burning down; his round owl glasses becoming bent by hands of anxiety.  A ROMATIC POSTURING.  The girls love it.  WHAT?  A PHILOSOPHER'S YOUNG ANGST.  Against the world; ever better than the world; he will condemn it, being a young angry poet who believers the world is not good enough for him.  A COUGH CAN, COUGH CAN....KILL.  A bug, nothing more.  ROLL HIM OVER; AND TAKE HIS PEN.  The spare.  The spare.  There is nothing so holey as the spare.  FRENCH PHONE ETIQUETTE.  The aromatic, like our friend here, the one who reads the poem: he decides he would rather die young.  AND SO HE STICKS HIS CRUMPET INTO SEWAGE OUTLETS HOPING TO GARNER EXTINCTION IN SOME ACT OF RUBID HELLION.  Air Om-matics.  BEAT OFTENS.  PUD IN THE TAN HAND.  SENDING SEEDS ON TO THE GROWND.  SAYING TO WOMEN: I WILL NOT BLESS YOUR FERTILITY.  I WOULD RATHER SEE MY TOWN DIE.  FOR IT IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO LIVE.  The womb is empty.  AND NOTHING IS MORE FURIOUS THAN AN EMPTY WOMB.  IT IS A BLACK POT BEING BANGED, RATTLING IN THE BRAIN.  And why does Mordred stack the hammers on wills?  DAMNED DYLAN.  I'D KNEW HE'D BE HERE EVENTUALLY.  Hey, mustard tanned marine man, bray us long for free.  I'm not stinking and there is no stage I'm going through.  PLEASE!  TREAT THE MAN WITH SOBRIETY!  HE WAS A GREAT FORCE FOR US!  A POET -- WHO WAS THE SOUL OF HIS GENERATION!  He sits with utopian hermit monks, sidesaddle on the golden calf.  YES, BUT THAT'S NOT ALL.  Styx styx styx can break my bones, but urs can never urd me.  ERDUS OR TURDOS?  Very funny.  WHAT?  He's trying to be funny.  OH.  We need to know about six.  HE SAYS WE NEED TO KNOW ABOUT SEX.  Good for him.  THE RAW KIND?  THE ROSE RED KIND?  What do you mean by that?  YOU KNOW, INCEST.  LOVE OF THE YOUNG GIRL.  HIS LOVE OF HIS DAUGHTER.  Yes, an indecent spectacle!  YET, AS AN ARCHETYPE, UNDERSTANDABLE.  Bahh!  THE MAN IS PROGRAMMED TO FERTILZE EGGS.  THAT IS HIS INSTINCT.  HE IS THE SUN GIVING LIFE TO THE EARTH.  AND WHEN THE FINDS THE MOST FERTILE, BEAUTIFUL, VIRGINAL EARTH, THE MOST DESERVING OF HAVING HER EGGS FERTILIZED, THE PRETTIEST FLOWERS IN THE GARDEN, HE IS MOVED BY THE INSTINCT TO BE PRODUCTIVE.  That seems to justify anything.  Rape.  Incest.  HE IS NOT ACCUSED OF RAPE, IS HE?  Well, statutory.  HE RAPED A STATUE?   JESUS!  I HOPE, AT LEAST, THAT IT WAS A GREEK STATUE.  THIS WOULD SHOW THAT HE, AT LEAST, HAS GOOD TASTE.  A modicum of wit is worth a conundrum of logic.  IS HE, HIMSELF, THE SPECTACLED PHYSICIAN? 

 

The Present, with its face-names of Reaganbeginandropovtito,

Of Paullechfidelsandinistacumjumblatt:

What does this matter, when the leaf proclaims its legislation?

There has never been a face, which, in looking back,

Did not discern larger faces.

Children are given the house of their fathers;

I watch as the roof breaks, and someone tumbles beyond the

  monument.

 

He is like a cock old clock: coming out every phase and drumming up a sound with words.  REAGAN BEGIN ANDROPOV TITO; FAUL LECH FIDEL SANDINISTA CUM JUMBLATT.  Political facenames from the era of this poem.  ARROWS OF THIS POEM.  Eros of this poem.  WHAT DOES ALL THIS MATTER WHEN THE LEAF PROCLAIMS ITS LEGISLALTION?  THE LAWS OF NATURE, OR NATURAL HISTORY, USE FACENAMES LIKE PUPPETS ON HANDS.  There is a larger face behind the faces -- a larger hand behind the small hands.  CHILDREN ARE GIVEN THE HOUSE OF THEIR FATHERS.  THE FATHERS BUILD THE HOUSES.  THE CHILDREN ARE GIVEN THEM.  THEY DON'T HAVE THE EARN THEM, BUILD THE HOUSES THEMSELVES -- SO THEY DON'T VALUE WHAT THEY HAVE.  And, hence, the roof breaks.  And someone tumbles beyond the monument.  THE PRESENT IS STANDING ON THE SHOULDERS OF THE PAST.  And the past seems much larger somehow than the present.  THE INFLATED EGO SEES THE CURRENT WORLD MUCH LARGER THAN THE PAST; AND THE DEFLATED EGO SEES THE CURRENT WORLD MUCH SMALLER THAN THE PAST.  Everything seems simple.  AND WHO IS IT WHO TUMBLES BEYOND THE MONUMENT?  Icarus perhaps.  MICHAEL CROSSMANN PERHAPS.  The father or the son.  DEFINITELY THE SON.  THE SON CANNOT KEEP THE HOUSE IN ORDER.  NOTE: IT IS THE ROOF WHICH BREAKS, NOT THE FOUNDATION.  THOSE AT THE TOP OF THE SOCIAL ORDER BREAK, THE RICH, THE ARISTOCRATS, THE EDUCATED.  THE FRUIT OF THE TREE.  THE FRUIT OF THE TREE BREAKS; AND FALLS BACK TO EARTH.  The monument, again, is usually something large, long and tall.  Something phallic.  YOU ARE THINKING OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT.  BUT ALL MONUMENTS ARE NOT ERECTIONS INSIDE OF SPACE.  THE WORD 'MONUMENT' COMES FROM THE FRENCH 'MONERE': 'TO REMEMBER, AS IN A WARNING.'  THE MONUMENT IS A REFERENCE TO AN EARLIER AGE, AND IS SET IN SPACE TO REMIND THE SUCCEEDING AGES OF A DANGER THAT EXISTS, OF A PRICE THAT ONCE WAS PAID.  YOU WILL NOTE, IT IS NOT THE MONUMENT THAT IS FALLING.  THE MONUMENT IS STANDING.  BUT THE SON IS FALLING BEYOND THE MONUMENT.  The implication is that the son is leaving the place of the monument, falling to the place which has no monument.  AGAIN, I WOULD ARGUE, THAT IT IS THE ERECTION THAT IS BEING LEFT BEHIND.  THE ERECTION WHICH DEFINES THE MAN AS MAN, THE LIGHT AS LIGHT, THE MAGIC WAND WHICH GIVES LIFE AND PROSPERITY.  Also it is 'memory' herself who is being left behind.  The monument is, itself, memory.  He falls; and a veil is drawn between the monument, memory, and himself.  A world is left behind.  As one wakes, one draws a veil separating the two worlds.  GLORY IS LEFT BEHIND.  EQUALITY IN DEATH.  ALL ELEMENTS RETURN TO THE SOUP OF THE ONE ELEMENT.  THE FRUIT HAS FALLEN TO THE EARTH, WHERE IT ROTS, UNTIL THE SEED IS FREED FROM THE ROTTING BODY, THE CORRUPT FRUIT.

 

The descent is not so hard, not so bleak as you'd imagine.

The muscles begin to fade; the Will begins to soften.

Between the Jewish Woman and the Catholic Man:

We possess all the shame and guilt of which the world

  has yet conceived.

Immaculately, in a word. 

In swift gyratory circumambulence--

  in a phrase.

God bless guilt and shame. 

For also you and I have possessed the gift of Gnosis,

Which we tore from the depths of Hell

Where wonderful Lutherans have never been

In straight contemplation of their reich.

 

It is clearly about the fall.  The loss of the body.  The loss of will.  AND THEN THE CONVENANT BETWEEN THE CATHOLIC MAN AND THE JEWISH WOMAN APPEARS -- THE WHITE MAN AND THE DARK WOMAN.  THE COVENANT IS NOT EXISTENT IN THE LIGHT.  IT IS ONLY FOUND BECAUSE OF THE FALL.  Gilt and shame.  A REFERENCE TO THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION ALSO.  Is it, then, the Holy Spirit who has fallen?  And Mary, the Mother of God, who awaits the fallen one.  SWIFT, GYRATORY CIRCUMAMBULENCE: THIS RESEMBLES A KIND OF SEX ACT.  SWIFT GYRATIONS, GOING AROUND IN CIRCLES.  But it is clearly described as 'immaculate'.  THE WOMAN'S WOMB IS THE CIRCLE.  The globe is also the circle.  YES.  BUT....  Guilt and shame lead to what?  PENANCE?  Man and woman on their knees?  SORROW?  To Hell!  YES.  TO HELL.  But in the Hell of darkness there is also what?  THE GIFT OF GNOSIS.  The angel of light exists in the darkest night -- where Nazis have never been and are not allowed to go.  HE ENTERS THE CIRCLE WHERE THE STRAIGHT LINE IS NOT ALLOWED TO GO.  Some covenant designated here.  THE STRAIGHT LINE IS THE INTELLECT.  Lutherans and Luciferians.  THE MYSTIC DARKNESS WHERE SECRETS FROM GOD RESIDE.  Yes.  I believe there is something to that.

 

Fear drives the kettledrum; Anxiety drives the whirlwind mode.

Music is prayer built to drive off the Dead,

Built as garb against the demons

When they come back to attack

The immaculate structure

  which cannot be.

 

AND, NOW, IN COMES MUSIC.  The drum.  The lowest musical instrument.  The heart of the world, traveling through the blood.  FEAR AND ANXIETY BEGIN THIS SPECIAL KIND OF MUSIC; THEY ALSO BEGIN THE 'WHIRLWIND MODE'.  WE THINK, OBVIOUSLY, OF THE SPIRAL, THE WHIRLWIND MOTION, SO RELENTLESSLY POUNDED IN TO OUR MINDS BY THAT MAN WITH THE SPIDER'S EARS.  THE WHIRLWIND MODE IS A RESPONSE TO WHAT?  To fear.  NO FEAR AND ANXIETY ARE THE CAUSE OF THE WHIRLWIND MODE, NOT THE CAUSE.  The 'fall' sends man into the land of the Dead.  Approximation to the demons generates fear and anxiety.  AND THE MUSC IS A GARB OF ARMOR AGAINST THE POWERS OF THE DEMONS.  Yes.  FOR THE DEMONS 'COME BACK TO ATTACK THE IMMACULATE STRUCTURE WHICH CANNOT BE.'  The Holy City.  YES.  BUT MORE THAN THAT.  The Holy City of the Self, the Soul.  YES.  The Immaculate Structure is the body created in contract with the Holy Virgin, the Woman of Israel.  BEING IS AN ACTING.  WHEN WE COMPARE BEING AND DOING, CLEARLY BEING IS INACTIVE, A FORM OF SIMPLY EXISTING.  BUT WHEN WE COMPARE BEING AND NOT-BEING, BEING IS THE VERB, THE ACTIVE COMPONENT.  THE IMMACULATE STRUCTURE IS THE STRUCTURE OF THE MONAD, THE TWO-IN-ONE, SPIRIT-SOUL, FATHER-MOTHER.  THIS IS AN INACTIVE PRINCIPLE WITHIN THE SOUL OF NATURE WHICH SURVIVES LIFE IN THE BODY, LIFE IN ANY FORM.  THE 'IMMACULATE STRUCTURE' CANNOT BE BECAUSE IT IS NON-BEING.  AROUND WHICH THE PRINCIPLES OF BEING, ACTION, ACCUMULATE IN TIME, THROUGH THE LAWS OF EVOLUTION.  BUT IN HELL, THESE MONADS OF LIGHT ARE SURROUNDED BY THE NEGATIVES, THE DEMONS.  THE MONADS OF LIGHT FIGHT AGAINST THE DEMONS BY SPINNING A KIND OF WEB OF LIGHT, THROUGH THE WHIRLWIND MODE, THROUGH 'SWIFT GYRATORY CIRCUMAMBULENCE'.  The 'immaculate structure' cannot be because it is.  YES. 

 

Damn the Unbelievers when they tell me I must shrink!

I have armor in my words; and the Dead can only calculate

  hysterical virtue in historic pincers.

It takes Water and Earth to create a Human Soul.

If you choose Death over Life, then the Water is withdrawn.

And your continent becomes a desert;

Your seas become archaeologists' new fortunes.

"It is better to kill than to be killed!"

So says the New Christ.

"It is better to weep than to be unloved!

"It is better to live, and drown, than to sell sand

  to a coming Titan!"

 

The unbelievers believe in the small world, in death, in cold contraction.  The believe only in the shrinking.  DAMN THEM!  HE HAS ARMOR IN HIS WORDS.  MUSIC, WORDS, SOUND, AS A KIND OF BODY TO PROTECT ONE FROM THE ONSLAUGHT OF DEATH.  AS A KIND OF SPIRAL DANCE OF SELF-PROTECTION, MAKING THE SWORDS OF THE DEMONDS NOT ABLE TO FIND THE OPENINGS TO WOUND.  The Dead, the demons, the bodiless, can only calculate 'hysterical virtue' in 'historic pincers'.  Hysterical suggests the feminine, the emotional.  Hysterical virtue reminds us clearly fo the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.  This is the image-god.  Wishing to appear virtuous to the world.  WHAT ARE THE 'HISTORIC PINCERS'?  Well, we cannot forget that this was written when the battle between the arch-enemies, the two giants, America and Russia, Capitalism and Communism, were entering the final stages.  HISTORIC PINCERS MIGHT BE THE MARXIST POINCERS OF THESIS AND ANTI-THESIS.  It takes two elements to create a human soul: water and earth.  The human soul, when mixed becomes a kind of clay.  AND WATERING THE EARTH BRINGS ABOUT LIFE.  If one chooses Death over Life, then the Water is withdrawn -- the Human Soul is withdrawn.  THE DEAD LIVE IN DESERTS -- BECAUSE THEY HAVE CHOSEN DEATH OVER LIFE.  And then this New Christ appears as a soldier: ' It is better to kill than to be killed!'  IT IS BETTER TO LIVE, TO HAVE THE TWO PRINCIPLES, WATER AND EARTH, MAN AND WOMAN -- THAN IT IS TOHAVE ONE PRINCIPLE; AND TO 'SELL SAND TO A COMING TITAN'.  AND WHO IS THIS COMING TITAN?  It is better to be capable of drowning than it is to grow sand so you can resemble the coming giant.  HARSH KISS.  I think we will see very shortly who this coming giant from the desert, the bearer of sand, is.  ARTS KICHE.  What?  HE IS A DEFENDER OF THE WATER, A DEFENDER OF THE WOMAN.  A PROTECTOR OF THE WOMAN.  Remember that he has taken us in to this labyrinth; we must take care to find our way out again. 

 

Monday is a day of play;

A day when prayers, supine, rattle the prattling manors.

Cameras haunt the battleground, conceived by the shock

  of Yesterday's purpose.

Jehovah rising from a graven image;

In the dictate of a coming cavern, Moses gave me his mountain

  in its September shoes.

Those who inhabit the issue at its crux are those who defend

  the women from Creeping Habit.

As over and over the lottery turns.

It is unwise for the Mayor to walk alone at night.

Surely some imagery displays the camp of a coming slaughter;

When missionaries' rags are hurled on bonfires by the children.

All accomplishments are mere chance conjoined with the art of

  visual anger.

 

THIS IS WHAT WE ARE BESST AT: PICKING OVER THE CORPSE.  Copse.  CORPORAL CONTAGION.  Michael Jordan Crossmann.  MAGIC JOHNSON CROSSMANN.  Monday is a day of play.  Yes, play.  THE MOON FOR THE MISS BEGOTTEN.  Moonday monuments.  THE MOON IS, OF COURSE, THE WOMAN; AND THE WOMB.  CYCLES OF FERTILITY  Full-womb Mondays.  SEXUALITY. Prayers lie down -- that is, those who pray lie down and rattle the prattling manors.  The common folk engage in sexual joy.  A kind of Maypole suggestion.  The Maypole in the Moon.  MOON FOR THE MIST BEGOTTEN.  Brothers bleeding.  MAKING THE ARISTOCRACY NERVOUS.  BECAUSE OF THE LACK OF MANNERS BEING PRESENTED.  THE HOLIDAY DEMOCRACY OF FLESH WHICH MAKES THEIR CANON OF ORDER TAKE A BLUNDERBUSS IN THE BUTT.  Manere is Latin; and it means 'to remain'.  Ream main.  Colloquially, to take one in the butt.  PRATE COMES FROM MIDDLE ENGLISH AND HAS ITS ORIGIN IN ECHO.  Eggo -- and the blarney man.  PLEASE.  A day of nonorder.  NOT JUST NONORDER -- BUT A DAY OF SIN.  A Night of Ins.  NICHT NOCHT.  Who is there?  PETER.  Peter who?  PETER PIPER PIPED A PEARED PUSSY WITH A PINT OF PHIZZ PRODUCING PUMPY PLINTH.  Sin is the Babylonian god of the Moon.  HOMAGE TO NIGHT.  Lunar latinization: dance with me, Great Dane; come on and dance with me.  AND THEN CAMERAS.  WHY CAMERAS?  TO CAPTURE WHAT EXACTLY?  THE MOTHER WITH HER SON?  What do cameras do?  They memorize time.  CAMERICAS FREEZE WATER.  Picturate.  The battleground.  WHICH BATTLEGROUND?  Picturate the battleground, protectorate of props.  HAUNT SUGGESTS GHOST CAMERAS.  What is Yesterdayh's porpoise?  FLIPPER FLAPPER.  What?  THE BATTLEGROUND IS CONCEIVED BY THE SHOCK OF YESTERDAY'S PURPOSE.  Or were the cameras conceived by the shock of yesterday's purpose.  GESTERN YESTERN.  Past.  Guess turns.  GUEST EARNS.  Guts yearn.  WIND.  PASSING IN A GUST.

 

Gestalt  f -,-en figure; (Form) shape, form; G~ annehmen (fig) take shape. g~en vt shape; (organisieren) arrange; (schaffen) create; (entwerfen) design; sich g~en turn out

 

gestŠnd/ig  a confessed; g~ig sein have confessed. G~nis nt -ses,-se confession

 

Gestank  m -s stench, [bad] smell

 

gestatten  vt allow, permit; nicht gestattet prohibited; g~ Sie? may I?

 

Geste  f -,-n gesture

 

Gesteck  nt -[e]s,-e flower arrangement

 

gestehen*  vt/i (haben) confess; confess to <Verbrechen>; offen gestanden to tell the truth

 

Gestein  nt -[e]s,-e rock

 

Gestell  nt -[e]s,-e stand; (Flaschen-) rack; (Rahmen) frame

 

gestellt  a gut/schlecht g~ well/badly off; auf sich (acc) selbst g~ sein be thrown on one's own resources

 

gestelzt  a (fig) stilted

 

gesteppt  a quilted

 

gestern  adv yesterday; g~nacht last night

 

Gestik  f - gestures pl. g~ulieren vi (haben) gesticulate

 

gestrandet  a stranded

 

gestreift  a striped

 

gestrichelt  a <Linie> dotted

 

gestrichen  a g~er Teelšffel level teaspoon[ful]

 

gestrig  a yesterday's; am g~en Tag yesterday

 

GestrŸpp  nt -s,-e undergrowth

 

GestŸt  nt -[e]s,-e stud [farm]

 

OUR GESTRANDET GESTELLTEN GESTALTEN GESTANKEN GESTEHEN GESTANDIS IN A GESTELZT GESTRUPP.  Let's hook up the manometer to that guy.  WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T LIKE A MATCH NEAR THAT GUY'S GESTREIFT GESTELL, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.  Note all the theme's inherent in the root GEST.  THE QUILT, THE STONE, THE CONFESSION, SHAPE/ARRANGE/CREATE, DOTTED, STRIPED, STRANDER, UNDERGROWTH, RACK, STUDF.  How have we come to this?  TAKEN AWAY FROM WHAT?  Have we forgotten that the Moon and Islam are connected?  WHAT?  What was yesterday's purpose?  THE BATTLEGROUND IS THE STRUGGLE OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS: THE RELIGIOUS BATTLEGROUND.  I see.  YESTERDAY'S PURPOSE WAS, PERHAPS, THE CRUSADE?  The defense of Jerusalem.  THE WOMB OF THE WORLD.  Daphne being what?  IS HE CALLING FOR A BROWN-OUT?  Freed fromme a reek zone; Psyche at the bar, drinking much to meade, appropriate claim.  TWO-SIDED MAN.  Mutando perde figuram.  OVUM.  Avid Ovum.  GRABBED KNEE.  Fac nobis banc oblationem ascriptam, ratam, rationabilem, acceptabilem, quod figura est corpis et sanguinis Christi.  NOBLES LOGE.  Nobleless oblige.  METAMORPHOSIS, OR SYMBOL-FORMATION; THE ORIGIN OF HUMAN CULTURE.  A LAUREL BRANCH IN THE HAND, A LAUREL WREATH ON THE HOUSE, A LAUREL CROWN ON THE HEAD; TO PURIFY AND CELEBRATE.  APOLLO AFTER SLAYING THE OLD DRAGON, OR ROMAN LEGIONS ENTERING THE CITY IN TRIUMPH.  AS IN THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES; OR PALM SUNDAY.  THE DECORATION, THE MERE DISPLAY, IS POETRY: MAKING THIS THING OTHER.  A DOUBLE NATURE.  Michael-Daphna; Apollo-Daphne.  DAMP KNEE.  Crystallized.  CAMERAS CHRISTALLIZED IN JEWRULEDSHALOM.  Presiding over the Moon: the cunt in new deity of the world.  'JEHOVAH RISING FROM A GRAVEN IMAGE.'  Daphnephoria, carrying Daphne.  A ceremony of Apollo carrying Daphne, with a choir of maidens.  They decorate a p;iece of olive wood with laurel branches and all kinds of flowers; at the top is tied a bronze ball with smaller balls hanging from it; at the middle they tie another ball not so big as the one on top, with purple ribbons attached; the lowr part of the wood they cover with saffron-colored cloth.  The ball at the top signifies the sun; the lower one, the moon; the lesser balls , the stars; and the reibbons, the cycle of the year.  The Daphne-bearer is made like unto Apollog himself, with hair flowing, and wearing a golden crown, and clothed in a shining robe that reaches down to his feet.  'JEHOVAH RISING FROM A GRAVEN IMAGE.'  Yod-Heva, surely, is the two-sexed God, the totality.  The unity.  RISING FROM A GRAVEN IMAGE.  The Jewish-Christian God rising from an engraved image.  FROM AN IMAGE ENTOMBED.  Men to bed?  WHAT?  We spoke in the earlier passage of the men returning home: men to bed to dream the dream's mirage.  OF SOUNDS.  Moonsounds.  Moundtunes.  ENTERING BACK IN TO THE WOMB.  Jod-heva is connected to the Moon, to the Mountain of Sinai, to Moses, to the Babylonian god Sin.  LUNAR CYCLE.  28 days.  And then the blood comes.  FORESAKING NOTHING.  Noster dames.  DAMN US.  Clam us.  NOSTRE DOM RUS.  One branch is the spring.  Pars pro tot: the tree is a symbol.  THE TREE.  WE SPEAK OF THE TREE.  The craven dim age.  PASSING.  I see.  JEHOVAH RISING FROM THE CRAVEN DIM AGE.  In is male aspect -- as the Sun.  SUN-MOON, FATHER-MOTHER.  Beware, the deranging of the card.  The restranging of the hard.  THE METAMORPHOSIS IS A TROPE, OR TURNING: A TURN OF PHRASE OR FIGURE OF SPEECH.  CORPUS ILLUD SUUM FECIT -- 'HOC EST CORPUS MEUM'-- DICENDO -- 'ID EST, FIGURA CORPORIS MEI'.  He made it his own body by saying: 'This is my body, that is, the figure of my body.'  EVERY SENTENCEI S BILINGUAL, OR ALLEGORICAL: SAYING ONE THING, MEANING ANOTHER.  Semper in figura loquens.  EVERY SENTENCE A TRANLATION.  OF BREAD AND WINE, THIS IS MY BODY.  OR, OF MY BODY, THIS IS A HOUSE AND THIS IS A STEEPLE.  A temple.  A spire.  SAYING MAKES IT SO.  POETRY, THE ARCHETYPAL FIAT; OR CREATIVE ACT.  Poetry, the creative act, the act of life, the archetypal sexual act.  Sexuality is poetry.  The lady is our creation, or Pygmalion's statue. The lady is the poem; Laura is, really, poetry.   Petrarch says that he invested the beautiful name of Laura, but that in reality Laura was nothing but that poetic laurel which he had pursued with incessant labor.  CROSSMANN'S SISTER, HIS FIRST LOVE, ALSO WAS NAMED LAURA.  That does not matter here.  MUSCULATURE IN THE BRAIN.  To love is to transform, to be a poet.  Together with Apollo's help, the aim is to see, amazed, our lady sitting on the grass, making with here arms a thick shade; as in Pollaiulo's painting.  She is the gentle tree whose shade made my weak genius flow.  WHAT HAS THIS TO DO WITH THE GRAVEN IMAGE?  To love is to transform, and to be transformed.  The lvoer must be flexible or fluxible.  There are a tousand shapes of girls, their figures, or figurae; the lover, like Proteus, will now melt into flowing water, will be now a lion, now a tree, now a bristling boar.  OVIDUAL.  OVA ID YULE.  To transform, and be transformed.  Love and the lady transform him, making out of living man a green laurel, which through the frozen season still loses not its leaves.  MANOMETER.  MAMMALOMETRY.  MAMMARY.  MAMMARY.  OTTHER.  'Apollo's laurel-bough that sometime grew within this learned man.'  The first stage of spiritual deliverance in yoga is to discover in oneself the tree; the upright surge of the spinal column.  Wisdom in Ecclesiastes: 'Like a cedar I am exalted in Lebanon, and like a cypress on Mount Zion.  Sapienta is a lady;p the anima in all of us; the aura in Laura.  The lady and the lover are one tree.  THE METAMORPHOSIS OF SEXUALITY: SUBLIMINATION.  'The gods that mortal beauty chase still in the tree did end their race.'  INSTEAD OF THE GIRL, THE LAUREL.  HANC QUOQUE PHOEBUS AMAT.  ORPHEUS SINGS, AND A TREE GOES UP; IN PURE SUBMLIMINATION.  OR ARE THEY ONE AND THE SAME, THE TREE AND THE GIRL, LAURA -- REMANET NITOR UNUS IN ILLA -- OR THE TREE AND THE GIRL AND THE SONG.  THE TREE IS IN THE EAR; OR IS IT A GIRL THAT MAKES HERSELF A BED IN MY EAR.  From the sensual ear to the spirit ditties of no tone.  The spirualization of the senses; a purification.  The laurel purifies.  Laurel leaves; Laura laves.  Daphne is art, or through art, the still unravished bride.  In sublimination the sexuality is not consummated -- 'Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, though winning near the goal -- yet, do not grieve; she cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss; for ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!'  LESLIE RHODES, LESLIE RHODES.  FOR EVER WILT THOU LOVE, AND SHE BE FAIR.  Number seven.  Number seven.  Number seven.  JOHN LENNON.  JOHN LENNON.  JOHN LENNON.  Reve ablution: Numb bird dines.  Numb bird dines.  Numb bird dines.  JOHN'S BROWN BODY LIES A MULDERING IN THE GRAVE.  WE WERE STAMPING OUT THE VINTAGE WHERE THE GABES OF WRATH WERE SCORED.  In deed.  MOON FOR THE MIDST BIG ROTTEN.  Gas man, gas man, who do you got tonight.  Who do you know, where do you go, what is your flow tonight?  MOTHERS, LIKE BEASTS, MUST MERELY HAVE NURSED THEIR BABIES, LET THEM WALLOW NAKED IN THEIR OWN FILTH.  AND THESE CHILDREN, WHO HAD TO WALLOW IN THEIR OWN FILTH, WHOSE NITROUS SALTS RICHLY FERTILIZED THE FIELDS, AND WHO HAD TO EXERT THEMSELVES TO PENETRTE THE GREAT FOREST, WOULD FLEX AND CONTRACT THEIR MUSCLES IN THESE EXERTIONS, AND THUS AB SORB NITROUS SALTS INTO THEIR BODIES IN GREATER ABUNDANCE.  THEY WOULD BE QUITE WITHOUT THAT FEAR OF GODS, FATHERS, AND TEACHERS WHICH CHILLS AND BENUMBS EVEN THE MOST EXUBERANT IN CHILDHOOD.  THEY MUST, THEREFORE, HAVE GROWN UP ROBUST, VIGOROUS, EXCESSIVELY BIG IN BRAWN AND BONE, TO THE POINT OF BECOMING GIANTS.  THEREFORE: CIVILIZATION BEGAN WITH WATER.  IT WAS BY BECOMING INBUED WITH THIS CLEANLINESS OF BODY AND THIS FEAR OF GODS AND OF FATHERS THAT THE GIANTS DIMINISHED TO OUR NORMAL STATURE.  IT WAS PERHAPS FOR THIS REASON THAT FROM POLITEIA, WHICH IN GREEK MEANS CIVIL GOVERNMENT, WAS DERIVED THE LATIN POLITUS, MEANING CLEAN OR NEAT.  THE POLIS IS POLISHED.  CIVILIZATION IS POLITE.  IS POLICED.  Ovic.  Civic.  Covis.  Sociv.  VISCOUS ROAD.  Pollyhedra, USA.  ADAM'S FORT, TEXAS.  The Moon is Mother of the Water.  BE NOW.  BE NOW.  ANCILLARY TREE -- CHOKE MA AND BE NOW.  This tells me nothing about the graven image.  PASTICHE.  Cunt and page.  WOVEN IN LAYERS.  Pulp and Pest.  MOLLYHEDRA, AUS.  EVE'S CANYON, NEW SOUTH WALES.  Building bodies with pre-existing matter.  YES.  I UNDERSTAND SOMETHING.  Scare is poor cautious scare.  EGO-BURST, EGO-BLEND, EGO-BURIAL, AND SNATCH AS SNATCH CAN.  We remember that Jehovah the graven image forbade.  THE IMAGE IN THE WATER IS BORN.  He who lives in his image also lives in the death of that image.  SOMETHING, IN THE END, RETURNS TO NOTHING.  Water.  REFLECTION.  The female detail.  OVIDIZATION.  Ox Id Date Shaun.  SHLAIN AGAIN.  Fain again.  ART MARKET.  Film a nun ice.  THE GRAVEN IMAGE ENGRAVED BY THE SOFT SEQUENCE IN THE DARK ARTIFICE, CONJURING DEMONS.  Night spiel; Nick Nightingale.  SONATA CAFE.  Next to Gillespies' Cafe.  COOL BRICK; BRULE STICK.  Where are you taking me?  WE ARE TAKING YOU TO WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS.  DON'T YOU WANT TO GO WHERE THE RAINBOW ENDS?  Cool prick; brule stick.  RISING OUT OF NIGHT.  Rising out of the New Age.  THE GRAVEN IMAGE IS THE NEW AGE.  The war ship of the distant.  REMEMBER -- Michael, himself, the war angel of the near, is a direct reflection of Jehovah, on a lower turn.  WE WILL REMEMBER THAT OUR DEAR FRIEND, WHO IS NOW SLAIN, INSISTS THE ALPHABET IS THE CHARIOT OF PATRIARCHAL THOUGHT AND THE GRAVEN IMAGE IS THE CHARIOT OF MATRIARCHAL THOUGHT WHICH OUR BROWN-SKINNED FRIEND INSISTS CAN BE THOUGHT OF AN FRATERNAL THOUGHT, THE SONS AGAINST THE FATHER.  Jehovah rises out of matriarchy.  LITERALLY, THE GODS AND, HERE, THE ONE GOD, THE TOTALITY, IS BORN OUT OF THE WATER, OUT OF THE WOMB, OUT OF CHAOS.  Stab at matter, grim Domine.  SWORE DEAD.  In the dictate of a coming cavern.  In the dictate of a coming cavern.  In the dictate....  DICK, TATE!  OF A COMING CRAVEN!  The cavern being the mellow rose of Octavia.  GOING BACK IN TO THE WORM.  Deep into the ground.  GRIM DOMINE.  Deeper, deeper -- back in to the term.  TOMBLE, TOMBLE, TOIL ARE TRUE BULL!  Witch and witch can.  IN THE EDICT 8 OF A COMING CAULDRON, MOISHE GAVE TO ME HIS MOUNT, ANGEL.  Sinai.  YES, THE MOON.  Climbing the mountain of the moon toward its apex.  FULLER BRUSH MAN.   BUCK MINISTER MOON.  In its September shoes.  MICHAEL.  Ought to me; equine ox.  OUGHT TOME; SHOED TOME.  THE BOOK AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BARRE, HE SAID. HIS FEET COVERED WITH MUD.  AS HE BENT OVER TO PICK UP THE FALLEN APPLE, BRUISED AND SOILED, LYING IN THE SHADE.  Remember, the Day starts in the dark. The Day starts at Midnight.  SO, DOES THE DARKNESS START AT NOON?  Yes, as a sliver.  THE CRESCENT MOON IS A GLYPH FOR THE SCYTHE.  THE GREAT HARVESTER COMES TO MURDER THE WORLD.  Islamabad.  Islamabad.  KOFF.   He gave me his mountain in its September shoes.  EQUALITY.  THE LAST MOMENT OF EQUALITY.  L'egalite.  PARCH MEANT PROSE PUN.  Literality.  Litter reality.  HERE ARE YOUR HORNS, SIR.  Act, aeon; act.  SEPTEMBER JEWS.  Ahh, yes.  A secret door.  A SECRET FLOOR.  Out of the ground and up the tree.  The dogs chased you and me.  Sire.  By Diana's ire.  IRE DOOR.  Odor.  GAZMANIA.  Herginzula.  TOCK.  Michael protects the western yestern sew yearner.  And even finds him in the arkest dore.  AS GABWIEL PWOTECTS THE BARA COWERING A WNIFE.  Adieu.  A JEW!  Goodsewntight.  MARVEL.  MARVELOUS DAYS. Those who inhabit the issue at the crux.  WHAT IS THE CRUX?  BESIDE THE CROSS, I MEAN.  Crux from the Latin for 'cross'.  WHAT IS MEANT BY INHABIT?  To occupy a space.  THE CRUX IS THE CENTER OF THE QUADRANT.  Bmow.  A GERMAN CAR?  What is the issue?  THOSE WHO INHABIT THE ISSUE.  The issue is a child, a son for instance.  THOSE WHO INHABIT THE ISSUE.  The spirits who live inside the issue, the son.  THE HOLY GHOSTS INSIDE THE SON.  Holy and unholy.  WHO EMERGE OUT OF THE WOMB.  Remember, his vision is of Israel being the Womb of the World, of Daphna, the Israelite woman as being the womb of the World through and from which he emerged back in to light.  THE CRUX OF THE ISSUE.  Also, the cross of the issue is the tree which the child, Crossmann himself, the son as asked to bear, as Everyman.  THOSE WHO STAND AT THE CENTER OF THE CIRCLE.  THOSE WHO WOULD BE THE SUN-HERO.  Those who are placed up on the cross.  ARE THOSE WHO DEFEND THE WOMEN FROM CREEPING HABIT.  He is speaking in the language of archetypes, of course. THAT MUCH IS CLEAR.  I am minded of the prologue that Michael de Nostradamus wrote to his son, Luxor -- in which he explains to his yet-uborn son the world of prophecy the father has known and intimates the world which the son will hereby inherit, the shadows of his fathers grave images.  WHORE US, APOLLO.  Horus up hollow.  STANDARD MENSCH.  MENONITE MUAVE.  Are you afraid to say the name Caesar?  WHAT?  The man's son's name was Caesar, not Luxor.  OH, I STAND HEREBY CORRECTED.  Fear of Caesar suggests Utter Scorn of the Well-Born.  AHH!.  YES!  YES!  UDDER STONE OF THE   "Rose Thorne Lives!" Surviving fragments of a Sacred Erotic Novel written to stimulate theologically fruitful Meditation and discussion by Her Most Unworthy Slave Jason Crisp, with an Introductory Letter and Supplementary Notes by 'The Jackdaw of Reams': His Benevolence The Extra-Reverend The Preliminary LibrArian I+N The Neith Network Doctor Colin James Hamer, DCH, MRP, STL, PhD, AFPhys (ITEC), DSc ( Shivananda ).  GOD BLESS YOU.  Nautchural girls, girls born out of the woods, treegoils.  WITH NOVEL INSIDES.  Speaking to his son Caesar about how his obscure language was used to op skewer the truth so that only the initiated (ELISTISTS) could gain access to the hidden Wisdom and Prophecies therein.  AND KEEP THE DOGS ON THE TRACK OF DEAR DIANA'S ROUND RUMP (7up in the Periscope) AND TURNED NOT ON OLD ACTAEON'S UNCLEVER BUMPER UNTIL TIME RODE ITS RUDDER UP TO SHORE, BURIED KNEE-DEEP IN SAND.  Need-heaping sound.  HIDING THE TRUTH.  Hiding the Truth.  IN SUBTLE OLD SWEPT EMBER SHOES.  Loving his women.  WHO IS CREEPING HABIT, ANYWAY?  Stolons & rhizomes.  CLEEPING GLASSES.  The clusters of creeping ladies tresses that can be seen in amongst the ground vegetation of the Caledonian Forest are characteristic of this form of reproduction and it is the only orchid in Scotland with a creeping habit.  YES.  The sporophyte has a creeping habit and is dorsiventrally flattened. As in Lycopodium, there are separate sterile and fertile leaves and the spore-bearing leaves are grouped to form cones or strobili at the shoot tips.  THIS IS AN ALLY TO THE FERN, IS IT NOT?  Yes.  September shoes.  OR MUD.  Lowly station.  SPIKE MOSS.  In Selaginella the roots are typically borne on a rhizophore which extends from the stem.  WHEN THE CULTURE DIES, WHEN THE APPLE FALLS, THE CULTURE LOOKS FOR ITS ROOTS AND FINDS ITS OWN HISTORY -- IN MUDMEMORY.  His Story out of Her Story; His Story out of Nature.  RISING FROM THE GRAVE AND DIM AGE.  The consequence of heterospory is separate male and female gametophytes.  Each megasporophyll bears a megasporangium which by meoisis produces 4 megaspores which in turn form female gametophytes and female gametes.  DON'T GET PERSONAL, NOW, VULVA COLD NELLY!  God bless the Crotch Girls dancing on the godwatch train.  PULLET EAGLE GORE WRECKS NEST.  Pardone?  MEN STREW ASIAN LIMBS OVER BELLTOWN PROVINCE -- VIOLINS IS SURSPECTED.  Saturday's brain power.  IN COTTON REVOLUTION.  Protecting wool men.  WOMB MEN.  Defending the wooden from Creeping Abbotts.  STATUES CROW.  I see.  But what about the rest?  THE REST WAS NICE.  I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE NOTICED.  What time is it?  CREEPING HABIT.  To creep; the thief.  THE THIEF OF LIFE.  BURKHA.  To creep is to move in fear.  To twist and turn, close to the ground.  I SEE.  Clubmoss  A perennial mosslike pteridophyte plant, also called ground pine, found mainly in tropical and subtropical forests and mountainous regions. It has a creeping stem with wiry branches, densely covered with needle-like leaves. The spore capsules occur at the base of special leaves (sporophylls), which are often arranged in conelike clusters (strobili).  THE LOWEST, THE FIRST, PLANT.  Sarcophagi.  GRIEVING TOWARD BATTLE HYMN TO BE'D NORN.  Snarling muter, sneering duter.  URDTH, VAST; GREEN HANDIES, ESSENT; SCALED, FULTURE.  Odds, Eros, Mend.  Odds, Eros, Mend.  Auds, Arrows, Menti.  Bend.  BENDING LOW, AND MOVING CLOSE TO THE GROUND.  The habit, from Latin habitus, dress, appearance.  DEFENDING THE WOMAN FROM THE CREEPING DRESS, WHICH SHOWS MORE LEG, MORE NAKED LIMB.  Bedlam hem, you mean?  PRE-SIZELY.  Moralists: recombinant?  REBUS; REBUS.  What the frog seats.  REBUS; REBUS.  Toad's tool.  HABIT WAS ONCE A MONK'S CLOAK; BUT, THROUGH CREEPING, BECAME ONLY THE NUN'S HEADDRESS.  IN THE WEST ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD; IN THE EAST WORN AT THE FRONT OF THE HEAD.  Burkha.  Burkha.  BURL NAP.  Those who inhabit the habit at the crux.  CHRIST ROCKS THE CRADLE: CRUX.  Defending women from the beasts at the crux.  WE MUST REMEMBER THAT CROSSMANN WAS PROTECTING DAPHNA FROM THE BEAST OF HIS GILBERT, FROM THE BEAST OF ISLAM -- IN HIS NOVEL.  The pregnant woman in birth-throes, trying to give birth to the next age, meanaced by the crescent of Islam, set to kill the woman and the child at the crux, at the navel of the world, in the womb.  THAT IS THE GRAVEN IMAGE.  From which Jehovah rises.  BOARDROOM.  What?  CREEPING HABIT WHICH IS MORTAL BOARDROOM.  Bore Dome, I think he means.  HABITUE MORTIMUS.  Creeping toward Bedlam to be bored.  AS OVER AND OVER THE LOTTERY TURNS.  Drawing lots.  WHO IS LOT?  Abraham's nephew, who, warned by two angels, fled Sodom; his wife looked back and was spurned into sodium.  ROMAN SOLDIER DREW LOTS TO GET CHRIST'S HABIT, HIS CLOTHING.  Chance.  The Three Women of Chance: Lottery, Lottery, and Lottery, turning.  TO EVERYTHING A SEASON.  Norn.  Ornn.  And Rnno.  PAST.  PAST PERFECT.  AND PAST PLUPERFECT.  For Auntie Lunie Verse.  THE WORLD TURNS; THE WORLD TURNS; THE WORLD IS A LOTTERY, TURNING ON ITS ACES.  It is unwise for the Mayor to walk alone at night.  WHICH MAYOR?  OUR MAYOR?  MAYOR JEWEL OF ANY AND ALL?  MAYOR JULIE ANNIE?  Walking in the black night.  Several members of the clubmoss sect walking in the shadows, measuring him for a cast cat.  BLACK CATS, WALKING IN JAZZ, CONVICTING HIM OF OPPRESSION AND FOR ALL THE SINS OF THE WHALED.  Ay or May.  Actaeon's ankle.  ANCLE UDY RAY.  DON'T GO A'WALKING ON THEM MEAT STREETS OF ARK DAY NEW STAMMERDAMNED.  NEW HAMMEREDATOM.  The symbol of the law is marked for more dread, down here in the mudmutterer, where the negative is boiling.  SURELY SOME IMAGERY DISPLAYS THE CAMP OF A COMING SLAUGHTER.  WHEN MISSIONARIE'S RAGS ARE HURLED ON BONFIRES BY CHILDREN, ALL ACCOMPLISHMENTS ARE MERE CHANCE CONJOINED WITH THE ART OF VISUAL ANGER.  The art of visual anger is an artificial anger.  GRAVEN IMAGERY; PIG STIRS THE FUTURE.  Missionaries habits are hurled on the fire.  BY CHILDREN MANNING THE BONFIRE.  Stamen raven.  ARCTIC SPARTICUS.  Spellbound.  FED OLEO NO MORIO.  Stamen shaman.  ARCTIC COUNTERPART.  Metatron, my love.  Metatron, my armor.  THE DAY BEGINS AT MIDNIGHT, IN THE PRESENTS OF THE DARK ONES.  The bed of naye alls.  NET OF GIVE SERVERS.  Be leaving themselves aints.  Quaint aints and quackery doomstayers.  RUMBLE.  Rumble.  Fish.  TAMBOO TOMBOO TANTRIC TOMBLE.  TOMBLE TOMBLE MOMBLE MOOR.  ROME ROM ROOM RUINNEWUNRUNE.  TOMBLESOFBUCKLES TOMBLESOFBRUDEBODIEDABUTTRESSBOY.  CROSSKIST.  Yeshiki Mamo lives in the red-rock mountains; she heerself is of a reddish-brown color and is surrounded by a haze of smoke.  She has a mouth, two arms, and appears to be in a fury.  With her one eye, called yeshikisen, she sees the whole universe, the heavens, and the hells.  A single-pointed tooth projects from ther open mouth; heer tongue is rolled backwards; and her roaring is mingled with the mantras HUM and JO.  Her hair is black; and from her skull a single iron spike stands up.  tghe milk that flows from her single breast is the elixir of immortality, Amrita.  In her right hand she holds a sceptre that terminates in a human head.  With her left hand, she fights her enemies.  Near her is a wolf, her slave.  He crown is made of five skulls; and her necklace of human heads.  The skin of a man serves as her mantle.  A rainbow adorns her forehead; her skirt is of tiger-skin; human corpses are heaped under her left foot which is in a forward position and her right foot which is raised.  (THE VOICES OF THE MONKS ARE TRAINED TO PRODUCE SOUNDS OF A VERY LOW PITCH, BECAUSE THE LOW SOUNDS ARE MOST DISEMBODIED.)  Om.  OMROME.  Omromehabithorn.  OMROMEHABITHORNHICKORYHEARTLESSHIGHNESSUNSATISFIED.  Omrom.  OMTWOTWOTONTEDESCO.  Tensilestrengthtwotwotwotontonytodesco.  TAMRON.  Om.  OMBUDBUDSMAN.  Basso relief.  BASSO OBLIGATO, DEAR FAST.  DEAR VAST, FRIEND -- SOLE STABBER.  Dearest House O.  DEAREST OUST O.  Dead Evils, wallowing in mud.  SWIMMING IN THE SINK OF SEVASTOPOL.  Boy-monks throwing the habits of the crux midianaries on the fires of Bonn, salllivating the vend of dad paid re-arming.  CORE MA.  Chants; and the imagery of artifical anger.  ISLAMABED.   ISLAMABRED.  Wreck we am vor amd ream.  STREAM.  Amd a coronnating's lotter.  LOTTER'S DAUGHTER.  Assault of a killer.  Salt of the girth and a psalter of the blade.  ISLAMABRAND.  ISLAMABRAID.  Covering the woman's face with burlap; burning her with the mark of onanership.  CUTTING HER PRIVATE PARTS WITH A DIRTY SEASHELL.  Defending the woman at the crux from the broad urker of the dirty shiek's hell.  SALVATION IS FREE.  Cranium berries are served by the voice, very foamale to my earring; a Sir gal of head.  SALVATION IS FREED.  BUT YOU MUST WALK MY WAY TO FIND IT.  I'll gladly follow.  SWAYING OF HIPS, ACCENTUATING SOMETHING -- INIMICAL IMMITATION.  Pulling the veil closed on the arched diad seeds.  SELLING THE OLD RELIGION AS A CONTACT WITH A MAFIAGOD FAMOUS FOR KILLING -- MAD ASCENT AVENUE.  Kill all Americans and Jews wherever you find them!  SHH!  THE DEVIL IS SPEAKING!  THE DEVIL IS A BEARDED MAN FOR WHOM THE WORLD HAS LOST ITS VIRTUE!  HE WANTS TO WIPE OUT HIS OWN PALLID DIN SINS.  WITHOUT CONDEMNING HIMSELF FIRST.  Yes.   (THE VOICES OF THE MONKS ARE TRAINED TO PRODUCE SOUNDS OF A VERY LOW PITCH, BECAUSE THE LOW SOUNDS ARE MOST DISEMBODIED.)  Adolph Hitler appears to be mounting Rudolph Hess from behind, hammering him with a soldier's affection like a dog in heat.  HEIL HYDRO!  Ho, ho, ho.  HUM JO.  Jum Ho.  HO JO HUM.  Jo Jum Ho.  HARMONY IS HEARTLESS, AFTERALL.  In the mud, in the unholy mud, much is found, a book, a lion-skin, a limp wrist dangling from a derelict conformation.  WHERE HAS THAT DAMNED GEOMETER GONE?  THE MEASURER OF THE EARTH/  I NEED SOMETHING TACTILE.  THIS BUGGERY AND OTHER GRIEVOUS IMAMAGERY MAKES ME WANT TO BOIL SOME CLOTHES AND OTHER HABITS IN BLEACH, TO BRING A LIGHT BACK. 

 

Holy unrelatedness is but a mask adopted by fakirs and shrews.

The vision is not a circus of leaves, but, verily, a pandemonium

  of sorrow.

And of sweet, delicate nocturnal embrace,

From which the screams are not of pain

But from a pleasure received and given by thee. 

Death walks in a velvet coat;

If I were to strike him down he would merely laugh.

Yes, he is God's emissary too;

Some say love him, and some say weep.

Some say gold is found in his crew.

Rain fills the streets with soliloquy of type;

If Hamlet had been so bright as tears, so rich as dripping seas

  from the sky,

He might have climbed from his solitary pew,

Invoking Shakespeare to shake paddle-words from his brain

And spark the age new.

Alas; he was tried so true.

An Ark is built for the King and Matrona;

The Temple is sewn by the Word without hands

As a supper with roof that you and I might soon claim it.

 

WE MUST REMEMBER THAT CROSSMANN WAS EMERGING FROM THE DARKNESS WHEN HE WROTE THIS.  MADAME BLAVATSKY WAS, IN A VERY REAL SENSE, HIS GUIDE THROUGH THE DARKNESS.  HIS MOTHER -- WHO NURSED HIM, AND CARED FOR HIM, WHEN HE WAS WEAK AND SHRINKING; WHO SURROUNDED HIM WITH HER IDEAS, AND GAVE HIM THE MILK OF HER KINDNESS (THE CURDS OF HER WAY); WHO PLACED HIM IN A BOAT, AN ARK, AND BECAME, HERSELF, THE WATER OVER WHICH HE GLIDED AS HE PASSED FROM HIS DEATH IN THE WEST BACK AROUND TO HIS LIFE THROUGH AND BEYOND THE EAST.  HIS RE-BIRTH THOROUGH THE POWERS OF THE WOMAN OF ISRAEL, DAPHNA.  Like Sylvia before, who cared for Romularemulus, her son, in much the same manner.  AS DID THE MOTHER OF MOSHE, THE ONE WHO HAS NO NAME.  And as the darkness reached out to protect Michael Crossmann, nursing him as he floated on the black waters of Chaos, so, when re-born, he repaid these dark hands of Chaos, his mother's own hands, by striking them, by turning his back against the East, the very spirits who had protected him in the dark.  HE DID WHAT HE WAS TOLD BY THOSE SAME SPIRITS.  Holy unrelatedness is but a mask adopted by fakirs and shrews.  DETACHMENT?  IS THAT WHAT HE MEANS BY 'HOLY UNRELATEDNESS'?  The dangers of spiritual materialism.  JUMPING FROM ONE IMAGE INTO ANOTHER: WESTERN MAN OF PROGRESS INTO EASTERN MAN OF SPIRIT, WHO TURNS HIS BACK ON MATERIAL ADVANTAGE.  ON THE LIFE OF THE BODY.  CHANGING ONE MASK FOR THE NEXT ONLY.  FROM MATTER IN TO ANTI-MATTER; AND THEN BACK IN TO MATTER.  Yes.  And judging the Feminine Principle, which saved him when he fell, now as fakers and shrews.  THAT SAME DARKNESS WHICH TRIED TO KILL HIM; THE GIANT DARK DRAGON IN THE NAME OF GILBERT.  Yes, there is that.  GIVING HIM IDENTITY BY TRYING TO TAKE IT AWAY.  The vision is not a circus of leaves -- is no longer Autumn -- but, verily, a pandemonium of Sorrow.  Now it is Winter.  PANDEMONIUM IS 'PAN' AND 'DEMON' AND 'MONIUM'.  Pan, the Nature God, with a man's body but a goat's legs, scraping off the mud; Demon speaks for itself, the wholly unrelated, the disembodied genius of a man; and Monism, a philosophical system in which reality is conceived as a unified hole.  ORIGINALLY, PANDEMONIUM WAS A GREAT HALL OR COUNCIL CHAMBER OF DEMONS.  Tohu Bohu.  AHH!  DON"T CRY!  Volstrekte verwarring.  WHAT?  Full strength: We're warring!  DINDINDIN.   Beat de drum for the boys 'll run if ya trust em.  PISH.  A STEADY STREAM.  IN THE WOOD.  PISH.  PISH.  MAKING SO MUCH NOISE HERE.  THE HOLE WORLD WILL HILL IT.  Tishtush: Talker Laura's burning bush.   PANDEMIC PANDOMOS: ALL OF THE PEOPLE; WE ARE THE WHIRLED, WE ARE THE CHILLED DRAIN -- DOWN WHICH RUNS THE PANDERMONS OF THE FALLEN KINGS' QUEENS WHEN PATER NOSTER REACHS HYS BOIL.  Pandemonium is the Capital of Hell in Milton's Paradise Lost.  AHH!  HE IS IN THE CAPITAL OF HELL THEN!  THIS EXPLAINS IT!  HE HAS AN EXACT LOCATION AS WE SPEAK!  And this Hell is allied, in space, apparently, by the pleasures of sexual conjunction with a thee, who appears to be a Lady Friend.  NOCTURNAL EMBRACE.  Narc tonal.  Rolling over in bed.  EMBERS ROAR.  RACES DUN.  Pander Onian Ham, Monet.  AND WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?  I think you need an etymological dictionary.  DICK SHUN NARY?  GIRLS ALL WITH OPEN WINGS.  SEEKING SEEDS.  Yes.  Let them laugh.  BOYS AND GIRLS TOO.  DICTION AIRY?  Some are crying even as some can laugh.  FROM WHICH THE SCREAMS ARE NOT OF PAIN, BUT THE SCREAMS OF LAUGHTER, THE SCREAMS OF AMUSEMENT, PLEASURE, JOY.  Embers roar.  SELSYN STAMMERER STRUGGLING TO FIND SPEACH.  Struggling to find his peach?  SPEACH, SPEACH, YOU IDIOT!  My fellow Americans.  We are gathered here tonight, in this garden, with this man, in the hope of raising for the world a new state of consciousness.  STICK A SOCK IN HIS WINDSOCK, STOKER BRAM.  In hell there are the sounds of love-making -- remember Crossmann hearing love-making beyond his ceiling as Dawn drew near.  As the Giant Gilbert sought to strike out his life.  AS REALITY DRAWS NEAR TO ME I RUN SCREAMING.  It is only that.  YOU CAN HEAR HELL THROUGH THE WINDOW AS YOU MAKE LOVE WITH THE GIRL.  GIVING HER A SEED.  THAT WILL BECOME LIFE IN SEPTEMBER.  In September shoes.  THE KILLER HAS BEEN CALLED HOME, REMEMBER.  THE UNFAITHFUL WIFE HAS WELCOMED HIM BACK HOME TO REST, TAKEN HIM UP TO HER BED -- FEARING ONLY THAT HE WILL NOT WAKE IN TIME WHEN THE DARKNESS DRAWS NEARER AND NEARER, NEEDING TO BE DEFEATED.  PANDEMONIUM IS LAWLESSNESS, AFTERALL.  PANDEMONIUM IS LAWLESS SOUND.  She hears hell out the window in the city of Pandemonium.  She takes his seed.  Then she will need to rouse him, to pick up his X, and move against the denizens of sorrow -- the negative folds.  HE IS PAINTING A MAP, AN ARCHETYPE OF NATURE.  Yes.  That is what this poem is.  A negative of nature.  NATUREDANIMUS.  NATUREDOMINOUS.  Death walks in a velvet coat.  HERE SHE COMES, YOU'D BETTER WATCH YOUR STEP.  SHE'S GONNA BREAK YOUR HEART IN TWO, IT'S TRUE.  YOU'RE PUT DOWN IN HER BOOK.  YOU'RE NUMBER 37, HAVE A LOOK.  Number 37.  THIRTY-SEVEN; THIRTY-SEVEN; THIRTY-SEVEN.  Rosebud feels just like velvet.  DEATH COMES AS A WOMAN, DOES IT NOT, SWEET VAL KYRIE.  Liaison with Dudley.  Dudley is mudley.  Throw a seed in the soil.  TOIL, TOIL, BOIL THE SOIL.  Sanctificat.  Swweeeett Sanctificat.  BLAKMASS.  BLAKMASS.  She wore blue velvet; oh, yes.  Bluer than velvet was the night.  KEEP SINGING, SHMO.  It's a sunny, woodsy day in Lumberton, so get those chain saws out. This is the mighty W-O-O-D. At the sound of the falling tree, it's 9:30. There's a whole lot of wood out there, so let's get goin'.  WHO BROUGHT A RADIO IN HERE?  Velu: Middle English from the Middle French, meaning 'shaggy' -- it is connected to 'wool'.  SHORT SOFT DENSE WARP PILE.  The soft vascular skin that envelops and nourishes the developing antlers of deer.  ACTAEON.  Actaeon's tag.  BROWN BETTY HAS A DITTY:  In Eden, Gan Eden, the two sources of Life are war and hunting; in paradise, the park, the deer park.  ACTAEON: WHO LOOKED INSIDE THE SKIRT OF NATURE, TRYING TO FIND THE MIND INSIDE THE MOON.  HE CHANGED FROM CONCAVE TO CONVEX.  HIS HUNTING DOGS DID NOT RECOGNIZE HIM IN HIS NEGATIVE CONTEXT, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE PUT HORNS UP ON HIS HEAD.  Changing himself from a cockwhore into a cockold.  A COCKADOO INTO A CUCCO.  Who leaves his eggs in the nests of other birds so they will raise them.  CUCKOLD CAN ONLY CLUCKOLD NOW, CAN'T STAND IN THE TOWN SQUARE 'CAUSE HIS COCK HAS BEEN 'COLDED.  Icy transmigration: from Hero into leering lonely deposit.  CALCIUM CLOGGING HIS BRAIN; THE BACKUP RUNNING ALL THE WAY DOWN TO HIS COLONIAL CONNECTOR.  Acting on: torn to bits by the Dogs from Hellos.  THE VELVET STAG IS ON HAMLET'S PAMPHLET: COAT OF ALL ARMS.  Velour skellt her.  DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO.  Welter Scaltter.  DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO.  Man shuns the one who broad him life.  LET'S SHELL HER VELVET RIDING HOOD.  Muslins armed with lady knives.  WE SEE.  AFRICAN RITE TO SHEAR THE PLEASEING P.  Clad Horus marked by Set's vague breadth.  LOOKING TO KILL SAD CLAD HORUS.  Death walks in a velvet coak.  OLD HIGH GERMAN 'KOZZA': MEANING 'COARSE WOOL MANTLE'.  From the Latin 'mantellum'.  MAN, TELL 'EM OR SELL 'EM.  Sell them what?  MANDELBAUM!  MANDELBAUM!  Bet you can't lift just one, Mickey me boy!  HARVESTER RIDES ON ROTTEN OARS.  If I would strike him down he would only laugh -- for he cannot be killed.  He is Death itself.  HE IS GOD'S EMISSARY TOO.  The first bacteria.  Which becomes life.  Which is also death.  THE AUNT MAY WHO SHUTS THE DOOR.  Aunt May, Aunt Bay, how does your guard one go?  YES, SIR; YES, SIR; GIVE ME YOUR THREE BAGS FULL.  May berry pie sitting on a high window cooling, just above the hands of two boys reaching up.  NORMAN WRECKED WALL.  May bull, May bull, give me your answer true; I'm half crazy all for the likes of you.  I can't afford a carriage; and I can't afford a marriage; but I'll be witched if I'll be bitched on a bi-sectual build for ewes.  WHEW!  Is he still breathing?  CAFTAN CRAFTAN, GIB ME OUR HAND SET DO.  I'M HAD BABY ALL WHEN SHE BABBLED TOO.  I GAN A FORD IN STEERAGE; BUT I'LL GAD A WARD IN FEARAGE.  BUT EYE'LL BE BLIPPED, IF EAR WILL BE SIPPED, WHEN THE OLD AGE IS WEEBING DEW.  God even needs the killer then, to make the wheel go 'round and rondo.  ROUND O.  Bach!  Bach!  GOOSE IN TIGHT!  Excrise your manners, Nunc.  If you fart you can part but when you sneeze you say please!  TELL THAT TO ART FACTOTUM THEN, THE MANNERHEIM HIMCELL.  A phane, a phane, a kingdom for my phane!  LOOK, UP IN THE SKY, IT'S AN URD, IT'S FANE, IT'S NEAT SHEET'S GOOBERMUNCH.  It is a plane!  Look!  FACTOTEM FACTORUM.  Is that Faramarz in there?  IS THAT CRAZY ARAB FLYING THAT PLANE?  Some say to love Death; and some say to weep.  Some say that gold is found in his crew.  GOLD OR GODL?  THRESHER; OR BREAK?   Rondo or Round O.  Riverrun never end O.  PLEASE CONCENTRATE.  IT IS HARD ENOUGH FOR ME TO KEEP AWAY -- LET ALONE RATTLE OFF SOME INCOMPREHENSIBLE BABBLE.  Tower of what?  TOWERS OF PLINTH TEA.  Don't throw that tea-bag away, just yet.  TWELVE MOUTHS TO FEED.  AND ONE MOUTH THROWN AWAY.  LIKE A ROCK YOU DON'T WANT.  THE LUCKY THIRTEEN.  MIRACULOUSLY CLEAN.  A rag to boot.  IS THAT PROUNOUNCED CORRECTLY AS CREW OR AS CROW?  Interesting that you should ask.  The Middle English is 'crowe', from the Old English 'crAwe', akin to the Old High German 'KrAwa', 'crow'.  The Old English 'crAwan' is the infinitive 'to crow'.  CARAVAN.  'Crew', on the other hand, comes from the Middle English 'crue', literally, 'reinforcement'; which comes from the Middle French 'crue', 'to increase', and from 'creistre', 'to grow'.  This latter world is also connected to 'crescent'.  AHH, YES.  GETTING SOMEWHERE NOW.  DON'T STOP NOW, B'LOTTO!  ON WITH YOUR INVESTIGATION!  The Middle English 'cressant' is from the Middle French 'creissant', from the present participle of 'creistre', 'to grow' or 'to increase' -- from the Latin 'crescere'.  It is akin to Old High German 'hirsi', millet; to the Lituanian 'serti', to feed; and to the Greek, 'koros', boy.  The crescent is the moon at any stage between new moon and first quarter and between the last quarter and the succeeding new moon when less than half of the illuminated hemisphere is visible.  The figure of the Moon at such a stage defined by a convex and a concave edge. Z END: A VISTA!  Both dis and dat.  YES. I SEE.  I SEE A CRETAN SYMBOLISM IS THIS.  Cymbal played by Cymbale.  CONCAVE BRASS PLATE INTO WHICH I LOOK FOR SOUND.  Not a dame's pulse?  LOOKING FOR LOGIC.  IN OUR CREW BUILD FOR PEWS.  Twelve Hamlets here; and one urban mare dam.  MORE DAMN PINTSTERS IN THIS CROWD.  I THOUGHT THEY WERE A BUNCH OF DAMN BOOKWORMS WHEN THIS ALL BEGAN.  BUT LOOK AT THEM NOW.  PUNTING HERE AND PANTING THERE.  HAVING MORE FUN THAN AN ENGLISHMAN AT A SOCCER ROW.  More fund than a Manchester ur in a plaid pun.  A PLAY PEN?  IS THAT WHAT HE SAID?  He zed:  Bedder than a man chester err harmed with a played pen.  I think.  PIPE DOWN, KOROS BOY.  Pan piped a picked and plain and peppered prosaic panody played per partisan and plain pups publicly post puperby packaged pertly in a purple votive voice.  HAD HAMLET NOT BEEN PLAGUED BY TWO VOICES, HAD HE NOT BEEN A HART LIKE HIS FELLOW DAINT ACTAEON, NOW WEARING HORS IN A LESS THAN PERKY PARK, HE WOULD HAVE ACTED AGAINST GERTRUDE AND BROUGHT ABOUT THE NEW WORLD.  BUT, ALAS, HE WAS TIRED, TRULY.  Crossmann clearly identifies himself with Hamlet.  Perhaps all of Western Man identifies with Hamlet.  As they do with Faust.  We then transition to the evironment again: the Flood.  AND THE COVENANT BETWEEN JEWS AND CHRISTIANS.  BETWEEN JEWS AND THE WEST.  An Ark is built for the King and Matrona.  The Temple is sewn by the Word without hands as a supper with roof that you and I might soon claim it.  THIS WHOLE STANZA SEEMS VERGING ON THE PATENTLY MEANINGLESS.  PARADOX IS NOT ENOUGH, I BELIEVE.  What is the Temple?  IT IS A HOUSE AND A MEAL FOR THE NEWLY-JOINED, THE NEWLY-MARRIED.  Built by the Word without hands.  THE WORD AS OPPOSED TO THE IMAGE.  The graven image.  THE IMAGE OF THE GRAVE.  The Death-Worshippers.  THE MATRIARCHY FRATRIARCHY WORSHIPS DEATH, WORSHIPS THE WOMAN, THE EARTH, WHICH IS, THROUGH THE FORCE OF GRAVITY, THE GRAVEN IMAGE, THE TOMB.  The worshippers of the Sun have been driven underground.  Into the daves, seeking the South, wheree the Sun has gone to hide.  METATRON AND META-TRONA. Look, the old woman is stirring.  THE MOTEHR OF THE MYTH.  SHE SPEAKS.  Thus our Earth, Malkuth, is both the Seventh and the Fourth world, the former when counting from the first globe above, the latter if reckoned by the planes. It is generated by the sixth globe or Sephiroth called Yezod, "foundation," or as said in the Book of Numbers "by Yezod, He (Adam Kadmon) fecundates the primitive Heva" (Eve or our Earth). Rendered in mystic language this is the explanation why Malkuth, called "the inferior Mother," Matrona, Queen, and the Kingdom of the Foundation, is shown as the Bride of Tetragrammaton or Microprosopus (the 2nd Logos) the Heavenly Man. When free from all impurity she will become united with the Spiritual Logos, i.e., in the 7th Race of the 7th Round -- after the regeneration, on the day of "SABBATH." For the "seventh day" has again an occult significance undreamt of by our theologians.  THAT ALMOST MADE SENSE.  Shh.  She'll hear you!.  BE QUIET!  'When Matronitha, the Mother, is separated and brought face to face with the King, in the excellence of the Sabbath, all things become one body,' says verse 746, in chapter xxii. of 'Ha Idra Zuta Kadisha'. 'Becomes one body' means that all is reabsorbed once more into the one element, the spirits of men becoming Nirvanees and the elements of everything else becoming again what they were before -- protyle or undifferentiated substance. 'Sabbath' means rest or Nirvana. It is not the seventh day after six days but a period the duration of which equals that of the seven 'days' or any period made up of seven parts. Thus a pralaya is equal in duration to the manwantara, or a night of Brahma is equal to this 'day'. If the Christians will follow Jewish customs they ought to adopt the spirit and not the dead letter thereof: i.e., to work one week of seven days and rest seven days. That the word 'Sabbath' had a mystic significance is shown in the contempt shown by Jesus for the Sabbath day, and by what is said in Luke xviii. 12. Sabbath is there taken for the whole week. (See Greek text where the week is called Sabbath. 'I fast twice in the Sabbath.') Paul, an Initiate, knew it well when referring to the eternal rest and felicity in heaven, as Sabbath; 'and their happiness will be eternal, for they will ever be (one) with the Lord and will enjoy an eternal Sabbath.'  DID WE REALLY NEED THIS, HERE?  I don't know what she means.  SABBATH IS WHEN THE MAN THE THE WOMAN RE-UNITE.  KILL ONE ANOTHER.  PARTICLE AND ANTI-PARTICLE COLLIDE, CREATING PURE SPIRIT, PURE ENERGY.  A meal for one another.  WITH A ROOF.  The one body, with pillars, a roof and a meal.  The meal of Christ.  The meal of the man himself, which the whole world eats, in ritualistic cannibalism.  BLOOD AND FLESH.  I am her meal; and she is mine.  IT'S ALL GREEK TOMB ALE.  Ahh, yes.  At least humor is.  HUMOR IS WHAT?  All Greek to meal.  ARE WE DONE YET?  ARE WE AT THE END OF THIS ROW OF THE MAGIC SQUARE?  Are the ark and the temple the same thing.  THE ARK OF THE CONVENANT IS KEPT IN THE TEMPLE.  I see.  And this all relates to the Sabbath, when the sexes are re-united.  When the man comes back home again.  When Penelope can drive the foreigners out of her house and bed again with her man.  DEATH-WORSHIPIING BECOMES A CRIME.  When the Dawn comes.  YES, ALL THAT IS COMING.  Amiens.  Walk faster.  Amiens.  WHERE IS OUR FRIEND, THE GEOMETER.  WE NEED TO MEASURE THIS EARTH TOO.  WE ARE HALF WAY THROUGH THE CAPITULATION OF NUMBERS.  The decapitation of numbers.  THE RE-CAPITULATION OF NUMBERS.  Calculus; Calculorem.  MATRONA IS, HERSELF, MALKUTH.  AND, AS MATRONITHA, SHE IS THE MEDIATRIX BETWEEN GOD AND MAN.  I see.  The marriage of Sun and Earth.  BROTHER-SISTER.  Coven aunt.  THE ARK IN THE TEMPLE CONTAINING THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, WHICH, ARE, THEMSELVES, THE TWO STONES, THE SIGN OF THE COVENANT BETWEEN MAN AND GOD.  Yes, isn't it time to bring that eye-sore back?  ISOR?  Ear-some.  IRKSOME?  Shined-ear.  TEAR STAIN?  Yes.  WELL, IT'S MY CALL, SHINED-EAR -- ISN"T IT?  Apparently it is.  THAT 'FAKIR', OR COURSE, IS AN ISLAMIC EDIFICE.  Oedipus?  NO.  From the Arabic 'faqir': listerally, a poor man; a Hindu wonderworker; a magician; a dervish, an imposter, a swindler.  FAQIRMAZE.  A fakirmass.

 

These are the last words spoken by the claimant.

An angry black face on the waterway coughs;

Oedipus wrecks the secret chamber of his mother,

Despoiling the ways of his father for a coign.

Fate -- you god constabulary -- have your crows on the ledge

  when the morning breaks my shell!

On someone's wings I surely must flee

To the place where rehearsal of the deed has been directed.

Who is superior to thee and to I?

To perfect one's work, is it not to perfect one's life?

And the women wish only erectperfection could last,

For down that middle stretch of life

Each looks to discover that the men have all gone.

 

IS THIS TRULY THE LAST THING THE FATHER HAS TO SAY -- ABOUT MATRONA AND THE TEMPLE?  Is he the claimant?  The one who makes a claim?  I DON'T KNOW.  That is what it seems.  AND THEN THERE IS A TRANSITION TO THE 'ANGRY BLACK FACE'.  On the waterway.  COUOGHING.  There is a link between Oedipus and the black face.  HAMLET ALSO HAD A BLACK FACE; REMEMBER.  No, Hamlet painted his face black and went to stand in the wood.  Hamlet had a white face; but he painted his face black and hid among the women, the wood maidens.  HAMLET IS LOYAL TO HIS FATHER; AND KILLS HIS MOTHER.  Oedipus kills his father; and has sex with his mother.  SO, OEDIPUS IS THE ANGRY BLACK MAN COUGHING?  By the waterway.  Despoiling the ways of his father for a coign.    THE WAYS OF HIS FATHER -- CLEARLY, THIS IS THE REVOLUTIONARY LUCIFER.  Aye, matey!  The man who pumps his own mothey!  DID ID NOT AROUND -- BECAUSE THE SON HAS KILLED HIM.  But isn't the father a tyrant?  Hasn't the father become an old, bloated menace?  WHICH FATHER?  For the sake of argument.  AVOCADOS FOR THE DEVIL.  This is the environment.  Now it is the Son talking -- is it not.  'FATE -- YOU GOD CONSTABULARY -- HAVE YOUR CROWS ON THE LEDGE WHEN THE MORNING BREAKS MY SHELL'  He is the egg again.  He is in the egg, at Dawn.  IS THIS THE SO-CALLED ASTRAL SHELL?  The Dawn.  The Father has grown silent, apparently.  The angry black man is scowling.  The sun-god is in the shell.  Fate must have the black birds, the crows, on the ledge when the egg breaks open and the world is re-born.  THE ANGRY BLACK MAN IS GILBERT.  BLACK IN NATURE.  NOT BLACK IN SKIN-COLOR.  Yes.  THIS IS NOT ABOUT RACE -- SKIN COLOR.  IT IS ABOUT SOLAR NATURE.  The Sun-Hero must surely fly away when he is born.  And he apparently is seeking the crow as a vehicle to carry him to some new land, to a place where he can act of the scene he has been prepared to act out.  THEN A STRANGE RHETORICAL QUESTION: 'WHO IS SUPERIOR TO THEE AND I?'  To the Father and the Son?  To God and the Sun-Hero?  TO THE MAN AND HIS CROW?  The message here, I believe, is that with his God he cannot be defeaated.  THE: 'TO PERFECT ONE'S WORKS, IS IT NOT TO PERFECT ONE'S LIFE?'  ANOTHER RHETORICAL QUESTION.  THIS REFERS, AGAIN, I BELIEVE, BACK TO THE ORIGINAL 'FATE, THE GOD CONSTABULARY'.  I BELIEVE THAT THE 'THEE AND I' REFERS TO A MAN MARRIED TO HIS FATE.  Then the women get lonely.  The stage of 'erectperfection' vanishes -- and in this middle stretch of life, all the men disappear.  INTO THE CAVE TO BE RE-BORN?  The female principle is left alone.  ONLY THE NEGATIVE REMAINS.  THE DARKNESS.  THE LIGHT HAS BEEN MURDERED -- SENT IN TO EXILE. 

 

Morose intellectuals plot self-disintegration with glee;

When the bell sounds, in Dawn's new cestus, the body conceived by

  Daily Life

Will not find them.  Death is some absolute wall to these weary.

Climb the wall, you fool!

Vico's gnosis: Theocracy-Aristocracy-Democracy-Chaosidocy.

A river returns: Chaosidocy-Theocracy.

Climb the dangling bedsheet into heaven;

Regeneration, before the coming in of Trouble.

Condemn yourself to death if you will;

Condemn me to life if, by contrast, you must!

Yet, when the bell is wrung, Ideas give way to the cold steel

  of Decision.

Alas, the maid I love exists beyond the wall;

I must go beyond the wall if I would sleep with her again.

 

The worship of Death remains.  NIHILISM.  Sorters and camels all destined to heroines and the pore house.  THEY ARE BODILESS ENTITIES.  THEY HAVE INTELLECTUAL BODIES, DREAM BODIES, BUT NO DAY BODIES.  THEY ARE GHOSTS, THE DEAD; SPIRITS OF THE NIGHT.  'Morose intellectuals plot self-disintegration with glee.'  They afre traitors, in other words.  YES.  TRAITORS TO THE TRIBE; LOYALISTS TO THE LARGE FAMILY IN THEIR BRAIN.  THE FAMILY OF MAN.  Death-worshipers.  THIS POEM IS ANTI-INTLLECTUAL!  His ideal is the Greek: Of Body and Mind and Spirit thou must be made.  CESTUS HAS A DOUBLE MEANING.  FROM THE LATIN 'CAESTUS', FROM THE GREEK 'KESTOS', MEANING 'GIRDLE'.  IN LEGEND THIS WAS THE GIRLDE OF VENUS OR APHRODITE -- WHOEVER WORE THE GIRDLE HAD THE POWER TO EXCITE LOVE.  BUT THE WORD ALSO HAS A SECONDARY, MARTIAL, MEANING.  'CESTUS', FROM THE LATIN 'CADERE', TO STRIKE: A DEVICE MADE OF LEATHER STRAPS, WEIGHTED BY LEAD OR IRON, USED ON THE HANDS BY ROMAN BOXERS -- A PRIMITIVE BOXING GLOVE.  We have, in this one word, an image of the dual nature of the Dawn, the erotic and the marital.  TO ONE ELEMENT IS HANDED THE MASK OF VENUS; TO ITS OPPOSITE IS HANDED THE MASK OF MARS.  Neither of which words for the morose intellectual, who is superior to both, having no body, neitther a body of passion to love and create children, not a physical body of force to strike down the opposition.  'DEATH IS SOME ABOLUTE WALL TO THESE WEARY.'  The wall.  BRINK FLOWED.  Drink soiled.  THE WALL.  Throw your hat over the wall, fool.  Then you have no choice but to climb over the wall.  WE DON'T NEED NO EDUCATION; WE DON'T NEED NO FORCED CONTROL.  NO DARK SARCASM IN THE CLASSROOM.  TEACHER, LEAVE THOSE KIDS ALONE!  But that was not the wall, really.  THE WALL WAS A PINK WALL.  And when it came down, it was the end of the love of pink.  THE DEFEATEST LANGUAGE DIED.  Prowl the terre riot.  Prowl the terre; and riot too.  MARKS ON THE WALL EVICTING STALLING.  Lennon: rolling over in his graven image.  PRO LATER TEAR AND READ IT.  Does gab at all.  VICO'S GNOSIS:  DEMOCRACY, CHAOS ID OF SEA, THEOLOGY.  ARISTOCRACY.  Chaos is the Winter.  Democracy is the Fall.  The time when the plant fruits.  When the plant gives off ripe individual tresures.  Then darkness.  The fruit falls from the tree back to the terre.  SOSOSOIL.  Mudearth.  Rain.  JEHOVAH RISING FROM A GRAVENED IMAGE.  The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil involves the separating of the whole in to a dual nature: object and image; subject and object.  THE IMAGE DIES.  CHAOS RETURNS.  I am on the side of the good, he says.  BUT THAT IS EVENTUALLY LOST.  The duality returns to unity.  AND THERE IS THE SUGGESTION THAT GOD HAS THROWN A LIFELINE OUT OF HEAVEN, SEEKING TO SAVE THOSE IN DEATH AND DESPAIR: 'Climb the dangling bedsheet in to heaven'.  THERE IS A WAY OUT OF DEATH.  A WAY OUT OF DESPAIR.  Regeneration; before the invasion, the appearance of the foreigner, Trouble.  CROSSMANN IS NOT ANTI-INTELLECTUAL.  HE IS, IN FACT, TRYING TO SAVE THE INTELLECTUAL.  THIS POEM IS A PLEA TO THE INTELLECTUAL TO RISE ABOVE DEATH, TO CHOOSE REGENERATION.  RE-BIRTH.  Mead evil.  WHAT?  Look at him over there.  Eleven sheets to the wind.  ONE CHOOSES DEATH AND ONE CHOOSES LIFE; AND, THUS, THE BROTHERS SEPARATE.  THE WHITE LIGHT TO HEAVEN; AND THE DARK LIGHT TO HELL, TO THE SHADOW BENEATH THE EARTH.  'When the bell is wrung' -- this seems to suggest that the bell that is rung is rung from the inside -- wrung out from the inside -- rather than from the outside.  'Ideas give way to the cold steel of decision.'  In other words, Hamlet, get in to your body.  The pleasure of your neurosis is not conducive to survival.  THEN THE WALL COMES BACK AGAIN.  BUT THIS TIME IT IS NOT JOHN KENNEDY'S WALL OVER WHICH HE HAS THROWN A HAT -- BUT NOW IT IS THE WALL THAT SEPARATES HIMSELF FROM HIS LOVE.  SHE IS ON THE OTHER SIDE.  AND HE MUST CLIMB THE WALL SO THAT HE CAN SLEEP WITH HER AGAIN.

 

Infamous American Pragmatism, to a world seen as some insurrection

  against God.

Do not judge yourself with such virulence, friend,

When your neighbor, in his ideology, condemns your name

  and would see you dead.

It is but good sense, in our practical tradition.

For no sin is so grave that I cannot forgive it.

And it is easier to forgive desire for Life

Than it is to forgive the lust for self-destruction.

So said Jehovah's First Angel, Michael,

As he built up his armor by invoking his own name.

 

Then comes his warning to America to cease its own self-hatred.  Pragmatism, judged evil by the minds who embarce Idealisms, is being condemned as the world evil by the minds who want a scapegoat.  BUT THIS WARNING IS COMING FROM GOD HIMSELF.  DOES IT NOT SEEM SO?  He is telling America what He will forgive.  'NO SIN IS SO GRAVE (THERE IS THAT WORD AGAIN), THAT I CANNOT FORGIVE IT.'  HE HAS TAKEN ON THE VOICE OF GOD, SPEAKING TO HIS TRIBE, THE TRIBE OF HIS CONVENANT.  And, he says, it is easier to forgive those who love life than it is to forgive those, instead, who lust for death.  CLEARLY, THIS IS NOT JESUS'S MESSAGE.  It is the message of the New Christ instead.  Prepare for war.  It is good to live.  It is good to be victorious.  'SO SAID JEHOVAH'S FIRST ANGEL, MICHAEL, AS HE BUILT UP HIS ARMOR BY INVOLING HIS OWN NAME.'  It is not God speaking to America directly, but through His emissary, Michael the Ark-Angel.  The protector of the Ark.  And the covenant.  THE NAME, ITSELF, IS A KIND OF ARMOR.  When the shell breaks at Dawn, the armor takes its place, builded by the sound, the invocation, of the name.  AND, THUS, THE FIRST PART ENDS.  Gastopher Columbus.  (SNICKERS.)  Does this mean the boss gag will trnasmutate into someone else again -- perhaps our lively Moishe?  WHAT TIME IS IT ANYWAY?  Our wives are at home waiting.  WE ARE ALL KIND OF LIKE ULYSSES -- OUT ON THE WATER OF OUR DISCONTENT, SAILING IN AN ARK WITH THE SAVIOR, WHO NOW IS SLEEPING.  Remember when he walked on the water.  Will we be here to witness this again?  TROPE.  TROPE.  WE CAN ALWAYS HOPE.  Fishermen that we are.  FISHERMEN FOR MEN'S OLDS.  Fissure men of solos.  HENCE, SOLOS?  What?  GRIN AND GO GRIPE, GAD.  Mead devil.  MERITORIOUS CONCEIT.  Blistered by the blasted into a blazing bark of bromides.  GASES, YOU MEAN.  Kreasy kontaminant.  KOK KURVED TO KELL; KRISTZ KOVERT KINGDOM.  Klansman.  KOFF.  KOPH.  Why'd you K?  KANT KOMET, KEN I?  Commentary on the canine.  DON'T WE CARE ABOUT SEX ANY LONGER?  When I die, no woman is allowed to attend my funeral.  And then man that cleans my body must wear gloves when he touches my testacles, to ensure that I am not unclean.  MODE HAMMERED ALTO.  Mood Hamate altered.  ALTO BOY.  Pipe down, queerus boy.  WHO IS MUHAMMED ATTA, ALEX?  Uhh-no.  That is incorrect.  WHO IS ELAINE BENES'S FATHER, ALEX?   Correct, for sixty dollars.  THE SIX BEING WHAT?  When men stop caring about sex, when they stop caring about pleasure, the only pleasure that attracts them is the act of destruction -- and the desire becomes destroying the world.  Which is a form of destroying themselves.  PIPE DOWN, PHILO BOY.  Phlox Phlox Philadelphus Flocks.  PHILANTHRO JUDAS JUDAEUS.  Oregon's finite math.  IT IS ALLEGORY, DAMN IT!  THE BIBLE IS ALLEGORY!  YOU IDIOTS WHO TAKE IT AS GOSPEL HAVE A LOT OF SPELLING TO LEARN; AND METAMATICS!.  Meatamatics.  THE LOGOS IS THE WORD DIVINE, CREATOR OF ALL THINGS, STANDING TWIXT THE UNMENTINABLE AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA.  And that is the word that you don't say.  YES.  Standing twixt Vitruvius and the Deep Blue 'ero.  NOGGIN'S NOXICS.  NICKING NIGHT'S ANNABAPTIST NECRONIHILISMS.  What about Styx?  TWIXT EIGHTIES AND THE LAND OF THE LIVING.  Heir of Clyde asks abbrobriately: In our efforts to understand the world, should we not look to our language and the order embodied in it -- which scientific and religious views often neglect?  NEG.  LECT.  From the Latin, 'neglectus', past participle of 'neglegere' or 'neclegere' -- from 'neg' or 'nec', 'not' (negative) and 'legere', 'to gather'.  BLACK GATHERING.  Night, in other words.  NO HARVEST.  POVERTY.  STARVATION.  Logos.  LAW OF ORDER.  Verbum Dei.  THE BOOK, THE BOOK!  Show me that atomic rotation!

 

                                   

 

Ahh, one clockwise, the next counter-clockwise.  Each an anti-measure to the one before it.  COUNTER-MEASURE.  Playing white keyes and black keys.  SUBSTANCE AND SHADOW.  Yes, we know this!  ROTATING LIKE GEOLOGICAL PLATES.  Cranking; making noise.  ROTE EIGHT NATION.  Encephalogram.  Stop.  SAMSATIONUAL MOREASS.  Please.  There are children in the audience.  FRICTION FICTION, PLEASE.  PRICTION DICTION.  ERICTION REDUCTION.  REDUX REDUX.  Yes, Mister Moses van Opdike.  DON"T GIVE THEM ANY ENCOURAGEMENT!  Coming down from sinus mention.  BICKERING BI-CYCULAR SAID ACTION.  Number Six.  GEESE RAMPING UP TO ROAMUS, UPDUCK.  Sex-tent.  NOT WANTING TO GET LOST HERE, IN THIS METICULOUS MASTER'S MAZE.  Willie maze.  MAD KEY MANTLE.  A keyhole with hair on it.  YES. GETTING BACK TO SIGH ENDS.  Hex add.  Dad.  The first-born number is 3, born from the 1 and the 2.  Thus, making 6 4 instead.

 

1

 

2

 

3

1

4

2

5

3

6

4

7

5

8

6

9

7

 

AHH, GETTING BACK TO NUMERICAL ABSTRACTION.  IT FITS ME MUCH BETTER THAN ALPHABETICAL ABSTRACTION.  Feed male convection.  CONFECTION.  Doe nut boy.  CONVENTION.  Dole not boy.  HEX ODD.   BOD.  Seven heaven.  7 PLUS 9 EQUALS 16.  Egg ain.  NIGHTS.  Why, thang Q.  HESITANT MARMELADE, MARMELADY.  Is that equivalent to beach, beech?  WE ARE NOT CREATIVE MEN HERE, REMEMBER.  WE ARE BREEDERS.  WE ARE DREADERS.  WE ARE TREATERS.  TREADORS.  REDDERS TOO, PERHAPS, BEFORE RED LLOYD'S FRAYED FISSION BEGAME DREW.  The man with the tick glasses is probably best at reading us our vortune.  DRAWING OUT OF VORTEX BEFORE US.  WALLING US IN WITH THE LANGUAGE OF A BRUITED BEAST OF THOTH.  Fish fish wish no pi cease.  HEIR AROUND IT, KEYHOLE.  He's saying something from his jailcell.  WHO?  Judas.  JUDAS WISTERIA.  Framer Oz the Foz for us.  LET MOISHE BREED PERHAPS.  Careful!  Don't touch that zipper!  We've had enough vc and enough you're in here tonight to last us a couple more wars.  WASTE BURGER HILL.  My God, you're sow drunk now you should be planted for the next millenium.  Let an apple grow out of your arts right here -- only a cheeky moon and an Abe or a pelt of woman growing ripe up here outhouse the soil.  AS WE INVESTIGATE THE ARITHMETIC PROPERTIES OF THE NUMBER SIX AND THE GEOMETRIC PROPERTIES OF THE HEXAD, WE WILL DISCOVER THAT THE HEXAD IS INTIMATE WITH THE MONAD AND THE TRIAD, THE CIRCLE AND THE TRIANGLE, WITH UNITY AND TRINITY, WHOLENESS AND BALANCED STRUCTURE.  Thank God he's back.  THE HOWLER LEAVES BEHIND HIM A DERELICT GENERATION WITH NEEDLE TRACKS IN ITS ARMS AND SPUTUM RUNNING LIKE GRAVY DOWN THE BACK LEG OF ITS AGING BOYHOOD.  Roman enter rectum: the period between two rulers.  BENT RULERS.  Yes.  VERY GREEK TOME, KNOW LESS.  Any dink goes, dear one glass.  ANY DINK'LL DO.  MISTER MONO CELLULAR.  This was a stinksome inkenstink.  The wurst, in vac.  FARCED LAUGHTER BETWEEN TWO SHAVERS.  Deux no-Jovers wetslinging on a Greco-Roman matthmat.  VESICULATE PRICES.  Damned gendereed nation.  FARCE BREEDS FARCE.  BUSH GUMS TO SHOVE.  Pish.  HAIR AROUND OLD PISCES GIRL -- REMINDING US OF OUR TROW GALLING.  A hairy fish in the hand is worth two bearded breads in a bakery.  VENERABLE MAID OF FOUR.  Stinks blinks.  IN HILLARY, TIGHT FISTS; IN TRISHA'S, WHOLE IRISES.  Putting all NotShalls in a wet frishy's pace.  KOSHARI ALWAYS TALKS BACKWARDS.  THAT'S HOW WE KNOW HE'S THE LIVED.  Ira Shok, standing in the rain, in the wet snow, a book in his hand, waiting for the sub.  KOSHAR EYE.  Don't spy on mede, old monacle!  Don't spy on me dead, whole mon oncle.  Now that aunt Rex has gone on sympatico.  SIN BATTICLE.  Vaguely.  SOCIETY OF CONTRARIETIES.  Feets of Rules.  HEXIGONS INFORM US THAT EFFICIENT STRUCTURE, FUNCTION AND ORDER ARE PRESENT.  Triune nudity.  UNIFED COONY FORM.  Dress.  TREE IN WAND.  Yets.  GRINITY.  Structure-Function-Order eagles Space-Power-Time.  POWDER BEING EGGO LATERAL WIDTHS, PIRATE.  Spare it, Landhome.  Lucan has a hat spasm when negal has a mound motter.  WHICH?  Draw, monsterball.  Make your cell an ear of call lodger.  GAL UP SO.  Ubbidity dubbity do.  GALLUP SO, ANCHORED THAT WAY, BLEEDER ON A BLOSSOM BROTH.  Beastial.  SHOW US YOUR WOVEN WOUND, WHITE WAISTLER, WENDY WOOMEN.  The vagina picks us; and we also pig the vagina.  COLD LIPS SOIL THE GIN AGAIN.  Yes, I see.  It is cold out here too.  Wine gumming in.  GAL LIPS SO LOCATED SOUTHERNLY.  Silkenly.  AGAIN, THE WEAVER WENDS A CURTAIN AND A WOUNDED WEB OF WAX AND WONDER.  Veil.  Veiled hilter.  THE BONE BEING THE CUSHION; GO AHEAD AND BOUNCE ON IT; MAKE HER ALL THE MORE MARY.  Resist this drunken urge to defamation.  Hair assy dewy and bluetifull.  OUR ORIGIN.  WHAIR WE CALL GLOAM FROM.  Coming and goring in a very reel scents.  YOU ARE A DAMN BOAT, HERE PONDER.  TRUNK OR KNOT.  ARMIED ONLY WITH YOUR MINE'S GAMMERAL.  Gruning as I go, trimming sentiment, trimming sediment.  MERRY, WHAT'S THAT COMETHING IN YOUR HEIR, DEUS?  Noting, sur.  DRAWL, SOUTHERN MINT.  UNTIL YOU CONVINCE US YOU'RE SODDY FOR ALL THUS INS COMETTED AGAINS BLAG SOLDS IN THE HELLDAYS OF THE COMFORTED READY SEA.  What?  WEEP, MAISON DIG SON; DIGS LAVEHOARDER DE NOIR.  CONVEST AND DIFIST OF GILT, IN AIM OF OLD NAILED TURNERED HYMN SERFS, BLEATER OF THE BRIDE RED BROOD ROOD.  PEACE.  Please.  Can't comeone put a codpiece on his mouth until the Dawn comes -- grainy false staff?

 

                                                           

 

Oh, yes, I guess that will do.  VISCACHA PIE, SIS.  Radio ladyo.  LHOOKING UP A SQUIRT.  Yes -- or lharking up a kirtle, mate.  HOLD ON TO YOUR HAT!  YOU MIGHT FALL IN.  KEEP YOUR ELBOWS AKIMBO, JUST IN CASE YOU HAVE TO LIMBO!  Teeth for tooth.  TROOTH FOR SOOTH.  I see.  VERTIGO PISHER.  The sign  appears in the Egyptian hieroglyphic system. Drawn vertically, it much later became a symbol for Christ, vesica piscis, literally the air bladder of a fish. This sign is a symbol of virginity or purity. It often appears in a mandorla, i.e. surrounded by a radiating aurelia, or gloria. The Cabbalistic mystics used  to signify innocence.   Compare with its graphic opposite , and you will see that the antographity corresponds to an antonymity of the same scope, the latter ideogram denoting sin, guilt, and lost innocence.  In modern meteorology this structure can mean clear air or extremely good visibility. In some US meteorology, however, this structure turned 90 egrees, to , can stand for visibility reduced by smoke. The law of the polarity of meanings of elementary graphs seems to be at work here.  WHAT IS HE SAYING?   The gloria is covered by hay air, I think.  HELL, GIVE ME A MIXER OF PENILE BARBARA ANULLUS.  I'M READY TO LIVE FOR EVER NOW -- AFTER SEEING THAT.  Perty bad attitude.  PHENYBUTYRATE.  Puny body rate.  YES, I'M AFRAID I UNDERSTAND.  Fruit fly; fruit fly.    FRIENDLY BUDDY RATE.  Phish bladder aten.  I CAN STILL TASTE THAT DAMN SALMON IN MY MOUTH.  Foaming backto roost.  HERE, DRINK SOME WINE, GARDEN GIRL.  Vivisect a Bacchus -- and what do you get?  FOAMING BACKTOBACK ROOSTERS. Oh, God -- not this again.  A POINT BETWEEN TO AUTOEROTIC RULERS.  Brown on Brown.  BROTHERS.  Reamus and then trample us.  FRIENDLY BARBIE DOLL.  Can I reach across you, friend, and borrow that brothel?  HERE'S GLADS IN YOUR RYE, FRIEND.  Take a pull on this battle, baudler.  Meg you felinaiad six foot awl.  BLISTERED EYE DOES SAULTER SUSPECTIVES.  YES.  Construct the vesica piscis.  BUILD THE VULV DEVOUT OF THE RIP CAGE.  The onium sporated int wine bout hell to get her bide a flush up dear ribbage craze.  HELD TO GET HER BY A HARD BONE SPLAYERED BEDOUIN DAME.   Shh, orifice sewer nasty.  Auld ewer gnatsy yokes megg me try so horrid with tares of hoy, matey.  SHRIMP-BOUND 'N THIS CRIB OF ILLS ON THIS WARTERWADE LABSYNTHE VOIDODDASSEY.  The drunkards are rocking the boat, I fear.  WHO PUT THE BOP IN THE BOPSYBOPSYBOP, WHO PUT THE RAM IN THE RAMMARAMMADINGDONG?  You can still enunciate, I see.  Toyboat roybolt soybelt.  THE NUN'S SEA ATE THE RAMMER RAMMER DINK DONK -- AT LEAST THAT'S HOW I HEARD THIS TORY.  Putative mutative tents, nomeless romeode.  JEWELY HAT ON MY 'ED; ROMANTIC PIKE US IN MY WED FICHUS.  Arriving a bed late for the sin of cure  - said the Mister, hoarse.  WITHOUT A CURE FOR THOSE OLDS.  GIVING QUID BEHIND THE CLOSED OAR, ROWER 'OER -- TOLLED FOR GIVEN 'EAD.  Hide tool owed.  The begger's at your buggered branch.  CHECKERED DOCTOR MEASURES SIDES.  'Viscerated pi says: twended dew averse heaven.  SNUFF.  Dramomine, man.  Draw the mean.  I THINK HE MEANS TO SAY: DRAW!  DRAW THE WOMBING WORM, MAN!  DRAW THE PLEIGHTS THAT WE COME FROM!

 

                                               

 

Floating with feet on the ground.  STORK TORTURE, FUCK TONE; MURDER.  Red Rome.  Red Rome.  Red Rum.  CARE FOR A COFFEE ENEMA TO END YOUR SURFING?  Sobering glance from the widow in black.  STACK BLACK TACKS ON A BLANK TANK STANKING CRACK.  New Moon.  VOID, OF COURSE.  The Triangle Numbers are formed by adding one element to the base, essentially broadening the base.

 

                                   

 

WHERE STRUCTURE IS DISCUSSED, ATOMIC STRUCTURE CANNOT BE AVOIDED.  Gammut vor behind be be.  BENDING OVER ONE HAS TO SEE IT.  A Bend in the River.  Mister Vidal.  GORED BUT NOT BORED BY THE OATY CUB YOU ARE SERVING.  Mistress Vitamin.  Vietnam.  WE HAVE SEEN, AND WE ARE GOING TO SEE AGAIN, HOW THE HEXAD AND THE CUBE ARE ESSENTIAL FORMS OF MOLECULAR NATURE.  Multiples of 6, particularly 12, 26 and 60 also emerge from the principles of the Hexad as a 'natural' framework in mathematics, symbolic arts, and everyday affairs.  TWICE SIX IS TWELVE, THE DODECAHEDRON.  The squaring of the number adds dimensionality to the number.  One is related to three; three to nine; six to thirty-six; and ten to one hundred.  THE TURD DIMENTION, YO YO MEAN?  (Hear the jello moan at me.)  THE PIANO HAS BEEN DRINKING.  MY NECKTIE IS ASLEEP.  THE COMBO WENT BACK TO NEW YORK.  THE JUKEBOX WENT TO TAKE A LEAK.  Listen, you might learn something, Herr fault near.  A PONS ON YOU, OX PARTNER.  Wait!  Tame the lion in the drink and maim the eye inside the dink.  COCKLE HUMOR, IS IT?  Precisely zoo.  SEWN CAPABLY, STIR BARN TENDER.  12 months in the year; 12 labors of Hercules; 12 ordeals of Gilgamesh; 12 tribes of Israel; 12 hours in the day; 12 hours in the night; 12 houses of the zodiac.  CONTINUE.  Duodecimal numerals form a numeration system based on 12. The Romans, to whom the number 12 was sacred, used the duodecimal system in dividing the foot and pound into twelfths and the year into months. The words inch and ounce come from a Latin word meaning twelfth. The system used by merchants in counting by the dozen and by the gross (12 dozen or 144) is called a duodecimal system. The word dozen comes from a Latin word meaning twelve. Some writers arg ue that a duodecimal system could be used more easily than the decimal system, because 12 has more factors than 10.  GO ON.  The Babylonian civilisation in Mesopotamia replaced the Sumerian civilisation and the Akkadian civilisation. We give a little historical background to these events in our article Babylonian mathematics. Certainly in terms of their number system the Babylonians inherited ideas from the Sumerians and from the

Akkadians. From the number systems of these earlier peoples came the base of 60, that is the sexagesimal system. Yet neither the Sumerian nor the Akkadian system was a positional system and this advance by the Babylonians was undoubtedly their greatest achievement in terms of developing the number system.  Some would argue that it was their biggest achievement in mathematics.   Often when told that the Babylonian number system was base 60 people's first reaction is: what a lot of special number symbols they must have had to learn.  Now of course this comment is based on knowledge of our own decimal system which is a positional system with nine special symbols and a zero symbol to denote an empty place. However, rather than have to learn 10 symbols as we do to use our decimal numbers, the Babylonians only had to learn two symbols to produce their base 60 positional system.  Now although the Babylonian system was a positional base 60 system, it had some vestiges of a base 10 system within it. This is because the 59 numbers, which go into one of the places of the system, were built from a 'unit' symbol and a 'ten' symbol.  THE 59 NUMBERS ARE BUILT FROM TWO SYMBOLS.

 

 

Look at him, weilding that brush like a Japanese master.  TELL MESSERS ROBERTSON O'CONNOR THEY CAN CONTINUE, MOISHE.  We should look at the question of why the Babylonians had a number system with a base of 60. The easy answer is that they inherited the base of 60 from the Sumerians but that is no answer at all. It only leads us to ask why the Sumerians used base 60. The first comment would be that we don't have to go back further for we can be fairly certain that the sexagesimal system originated with the Sumerians. The second point to make is that modern mathematicians were not the first to ask such questions. Theon of Alexandria tried to answer this question in the fourth century AD and many historians of mathematics have offered an opinion since then without any coming up with a really convincing answer.  Theon's answer was that 60 was the smallest number divisible by 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 so the number of divisors was maximised. Although this is true it appears too scholarly a reason. A base of 12 would seem a more likely candidate if this were the reason, yet no major civilisation seems to have come up with that base. On the other hand many measures do involve 12, for example it occurs frequently in weights, money and length subdivisions. For example in old British measures there were twelve inches in a foot, twelve pennies in a shilling etc.  Neugebauer proposed a theory based on the weights and measures that the Sumerians used. His idea basically is that a decimal counting system was modified to base 60 to allow for dividing weights and measures into thirds. Certainly we know that the system of weights and measures of the Sumerians do use 1/3 and 2/3 as basic fractions. However although Neugebauer may be correct, the counter argument would be that the system of weights and measures was a consequence of the number system rather than visa versa.  Several theories have been based on astronomical events. The suggestion that 60 is the product of the number of months in the year (moons per year) with the number of planets (Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn) again seems far fetched as a reason for base 60. That the year was thought to have 360 days was suggested as a reason for the number base of 60 by the historian of mathematics Moritz Cantor. Again the idea is not that convincing since the Sumerians certainly knew that the year was longer than 360 days. Another hypothesis concerns the fact that the sun moves through its diameter 720 times during a day and, with 12 Sumerian hours in a day, one can come up with 60.  Some theories are based on geometry. For example one theory is that an equilateral triangle was considered the fundamental geometrical building block by the Sumerians. Now an angle of an equilateral triangle is 60 so if this were divided into 10, an angle of 6 would become the basic angular unit. Now there are sixty of these basic units in a circle so again we have the proposed reason for choosing 60 as a base. Notice this argument almost contradicts itself since it assumes 10 as the basic unit for division!   Perhaps I've set up my own argument a little, but the phrase "choosing 60 as a base" which I just used is highly significant. I just don't believe that anyone ever chose a number base for any civilisation. Can you imagine the Sumerians setting set up a committee to decide on their number base - no things just didn't happen in that way. The reason has to involve the way that counting arose in the Sumerian civilisation, just as 10 became a base in other civilisations who began counting on their fingers, and twenty became a base for those who counted on both their fingers and toes.  Here is one way that it could have happened. One can count up to 60 using your two hands. On your left hand there are three parts on each of four fingers (excluding the thumb). The parts are divided from each other by the joints in the fingers. Now one can count up to 60 by pointing at one of the twelve parts of the fingers of the left hand with one of the five fingers of the right hand. This gives a way of finger counting up to 60 rather than to 10.  OF COURSE, THE IDEAL YEAR, BASED ON THE CIRCLE, WAS A BASE 60.  A BASE OF 60 AND 6, THAT IS.  THE FACT THAT NATURE, IN THREE DIMENSIONS, DID NOT COMPLY WITH THE IDEAL OF THE CIRCLE DID NOT NEGATE THE IDEAL BUT MERELY ACCENTUATED THE IMPERFECT NATURE OF THE BODY OF NATURE COMPARED WITH THE MIND OF NATURE.  Miyamoto Musashi.  WHAT?  Nighten?  WHAT?  Dew Heavens.  Two Headons.  NIGHTEN RYU: THE FIGHTING ALTITUDE WITH TWO SWORDS WEILDED ABOVE THE HEAD.  Enmei Ryu: the clear circle.  OUR MAGICIAN: IS HE A KNIGHT AND ITCHY RHEO?  Goring No Show.  HITLER IS SEEN STANDING ABOVE HEERMANN GOERRING, ABUSING HIM FROM BEHIND, IN HOMOEROTIC CONTENT.  Buttended a bland ole aussic.  YES.  Savage behind the garden weils.  FIVE RINGS IN ALL.  FIVE MEN AT THE DOOR, RINGING THE DOORBELL IN SEQUENCE: MISTER GROUND, MISTER WATER, MISTER FIRE, MISTER WIND, AND MASTRESS VOID.  FIVE IN ALL.  Five men?  FIVE.  THE FIFTH BEING A MAN-WOMAN DRESSED IN BLACK CARRYING A BOTTLE.  MAKING THE BRUSH PAINTER ENVISION A MATTRESSS.  Mystic, much as she.  ME AM OTTO.  No, go back to sleep, homecrusher.  You are nothing more than a literary fantasm.  A fulminary footnote.  A shadow of the great breast mark left on all men who flow like a Greek River from a writer's pen.  HI, MIKE -- WRITER.  I get it: Heim kreiter!  VELLY GOOD.  YOU ARE STILL SOBER, I SEE.  Five rings being represented by the right hand.  Multiplying each by the 12 sections in the four finger joints of the left hand: 5 times 12 is 60.  ALL PHILOSOPHY BEGINS IN NUMBERS.  ALL PHILOSOPHY RETURNS TO NUMBERS.  Falsinating rib hymn, your Gad has God me.  CLEARLY.  Yes, jass has got you cribbin'.  FULMINATE FLAGRARE.  Black blank broke brooder.  The Night provides a canvas on which you can lie and not be zene.  PAIR OF DOCTORS: HYDE AND GO SIP.  Medea.  ZENO'S PAIR OF DUCKS ARE BRIDING.  LISTEN TO THE WATER GOING RUCKUS.  Stix in; stix out.  DEAL DO.  As round about in rome hands is  Merlame Rouge, acknomened as Lotus Weeper -- the gallute, scarfing mutton; can't keep her gut in.  DON'T LOOK UNDER HER SKIRT, OR YOU'RE BOUND TO LOSE EITHER YOUR LUNCH OR YOUR LOUD TRACHEA.  Vest ended piscis underneath the tabular rosa.  THERE'S MORE HAIR UNDER THERE THAN YOU DARE SHARE OR EVEN STARE AT.  COMPARED, SAY, TO ROBIN WILLIAM'S CHEST.  Dittle.  YES, THAT'S THE BEST TEST.  MIX AND MATCH.  Diddle.  THE GLUE, THE GLUE, BEWARE THE GLUE!  The gallate: a strim of salt; an Esther of gallic acid.  FRENDCH FAD; WIDE SKEIN MOLTED IN A SNAIL'S BALKED REST.  Vulveta poorous, missuse artiste.  ARE WE DANCING OR ARE WE DRINKING -- IN NUMBERS?  Six is the only number of the original dekad in which the trinity of values which compose it is equivalent when multiplied and when added, indicating magnificent stability.

 

 1+2+3 = 6

 1 x 2 x3 = 6

 

JOHN DOS PASSOS!  In nomine patri, et filii, et spiritus sanctus.  ARE WE DANCING, MAUDLIN ROUGE; OR ARE WE STINKSWIMMING IN NUMBERS YET?  Shirt-faced.  AYE.  Nick Nightingale, do your number!  Blindfielded in face.  A GLABS OF CHUMP PAIN.  So says the sailor.  POPPED EYE.  SPIN ITCH AND SCRATCH.  You can't win if you don't paley pay. The Grape Willed of Urchin.  THE PUB WID NO BARE.  Adge Cutler and the Winding Wurzels, coming all the way from DOUBLE HYMN, DUBBLE HIM.  DOME.  Georgeous.  GORGE.  She kicks her leg.  BOSS LOWERMAN.  Buds Loverman.  SIT LOWER MAN, TAKE A CANDOR AT THEM CAMS.  Ahh, barenativedlewdies.  AND A FEW BUTTHOLE SNIFFERS SURFING TURF OF UNTURNED BUFF, NO DOUBT.  Kinky bastards.  Hideous kindy bastards.  LOVE TO HOLD A CANDLE TO HER HANDLES -- OLD HIDEOUS KAYE HERS ELF.  SO ROUND AND UNCALCINATED.  Katie, Kate: love to put some wind in your wind slit!  ALKALAI HOLLOW HOLOCAUST -- ANOTHER DREDGEDDY FROME OLD SPIEL BRUISER.  OR DRILLER KILLER, AS HIS OLD GIRLFIENDS CALLED TIM.  Alehouse rock.  YES.  ROUND AND ROUND THE CA'ABA STONE.  Cobbled by caftans, craftsmen and kabalstones.  MAC LADS, MAC LADS, WATCH YOUR DROMEDERY STONES THEY DON'T PHALL DOWN ON DEFEAT.  GANG GREEN COULD JET IN.  All form, me grog.  GIT.  GIT DOUBT IN HER.  Are you drinking with me Jesus?  NOW WHOSE THROWING VOICES?  ZOUNDS LIKE OLE MOJO NIXON IS TAKING ANOTHER SPIN ON TOP OF PAT MEANDER: RUNNING FOR ORIFICE EGG END.  When I last heard of him he was being arrested while driving blind.  EASY DROP. EASY DROP.  HAT AND BEARD -- EASY DROP.  Abe, he's ill cured up, forming beets, framing beats.  BAG AT THE BAR.  SUBDIETELED, THE SCRAPES, THE SCRAPES, ME SCABES WID THE LULL.  Wake the jurist.  Let him pontif or get.  CONVINCING US OF THE GOOD TEACHER'S WINDY LINEN SCENT.  In a sense I think he's right -- ole sundry claus.  Argoing 'gainst thebes of innersexual proberties.  CALL IT WHAT IT IS: A DRUNKEN WRITER'S THEFT OF WORDS IS INCEST AT ITS MOST NAKEDLY INVASIVE.  If no one can say it, I can: plagiarism.  (SHARKED SIGH LENS.)  (The man who speaks the unspeakable name of G_d should be stoned with an errhim and stoned with a thumbhim.)  NO ALLEGIANCE TO OUR LEADER!  Accuse him of this -- when he has explained the dried paste on his fingers.  WE ARE TRYING TO GET A DNA TEST FOR THAT.  THERE IS SOME SUSPICION THAT THE SOME CALLED GLUE OR AS THE FRENCH SAY 'LA GOULUE' MIGHT BE REMNANTS OF SINCE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE SIN INSTEAD, EITHER FROM THE TWO HOLE OF A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG THING, HIGHLY SUSPICIONED TO BE A DAUGHTER-TYPE OF THE MAN IN DOUBT, OR PERHAPS RESIDUE OF A PIPPY LONGSTICKING DROP OR MORE OF NOTORIOUS BIG LIQUID FROM THE NUMBER ONE ROD OF LIGHTININGGIVING ELIXIR THAT MAY HAVE MISSED ITS MARKED AT SOME TIME DURING THIS NIGHT AND WAS WIPED AWAY IN AN EMBARASSED PERCUSSION OF MOVEMENT BEFORE HIS TROUSERS WERE WINCHED UP IN THE DARK AND MADE TO SEEM UNDISTURBED.  WE CAN TAKE A SCRAPING OFF HIS HAND WHILE HE SLEEPS.  WE HAVE A COURT ORDER.  Glue!  MR. EPS!  Glue!  MR. EPS!  Is he being accused of plagiarism or not!  If he is accused of plagiarism, and you find Mr. Eps on his hand, then he is innocent!  If he is accused of day traipse or day trope or whatever vulgar words you have for it now days (it used to be seduction but now its become some kind of coercive abandonment) -- perhaps even statue tory pear -- then a discovery of glue on his hands would necessitate a verdict of non congeniture.  Not gildy.  If it aint spit you must acquit!  (SEND HIM BACK TO SLEEP.  HE'S RAVING.  An embarassment to his trade.  TOUCH HIMSELF WITH THAT WAND AGAIN.  SEND HIM BACK IN THROUGH THE COURT OF DIANAPHANOUS.  LET HIM JUDGE HIMSELF WITH HIMSELF THEN, HORN AND ALL.)  Bad liver has a broken tart.  WAIT.  ISN'T THERE ANOTHER?  37 bodies of bores on the wall, 37 baudies of bares in the hall.  ANOTHER.  Skip, James; skip to the next.  REEL BIG FISH.  No.  HONEYBOY EDWARDS.  No.  THE REVEREND HORTON HEAT.  Nein.  WILD NEPT.  Zig.  MOTORHEAD.  Zine.  Mississippi Sheiks.  SAYING TELL YOUR MA, TELL YOUR PA, OUR LOVE'S A GONNA GROW.  WA-WA.  Zinging bottle eggers blots on cots become dots.  BLUDS AND BRUDS.  Bar lay and purple panties.  BIG WEDGIES AND CO-CAIN.  BRODDERS WITH UMPTY UDDERS.  Able to lebe tailed ill dings in a swingled boned.  BEAR FLIGHT.  Beermacht.  BLITZKRIEG HOPS; BILTZFRIED CREED DOPES.  Boosy clean.  BRAD'S MONKEY HAS A BEAST IN HIS BOY.  Jimmy Justice rings ritely: Poor gun day, fart and run wide.  SLOPPY HENRY -- NEVER CLAD HOLES UPTURNED.  Cold chisel; rocking dildo.  CHEERY WINEWOMEN.  Cigarrudes and a cold, coald hold.  RED NIPPLES AND AU NATUREL SATIN.  Coils get puddinger act losing time.  DOWN WHERE THE DREG CARDS ROIL.  Potto of the MT botto.  PEYOTE OF THE ENDIVE PRATTLE.  Peat potes pearth in perking parts; bottleknockers all; covering slaves with dirth girth and awaiting ford arkness.  PO MAN, SO LOW AND GOIN LOWER.  Sodbarstool.  BURYMAN AND THROW HIM AWAY THE BARTELSBY SEA.  Puke outsky rather than insky.  That is the secrete of happenstance.  JAMES, DICKEY GOES IN THERE; AND NOT IN THERE.  AND REMEMBER TO AIM STRAIGHT.  Choreal noise may have to help him with his aim.  He's going bland after alls.  JACKIE HACKING IN HOPS ON MAMA'S BADRHUME FLUOR, POKING A PEDLESS HEAD IN TO CHURCH'S GAPING MIDNIGHT CRAW.  Jackie Kaye -- where did the monkey go?  JAGGIE'S ON A CAREOUAC, PRAYING TO THE CARPING MIDNIGHT DOG.  Needle in the drain.  Marking tweedle do in a pray just brain.  MARK.  JOHN.  RUDY.  CANDLEMASS. 

 

                                    So we're drinking and we're dancing

                                   And the band is really happening

                                   And the Johnny Walker wisdom running high

                                   And my very sweet companion

                                   She's the Angel of Compassion

                                   And she's rubbing half the world against her thigh

                                   Every drinker every dancer

                                   Lifts a happy face to thank her

                                   And the fiddler fiddles something so sublime

                                   All the women tear their blouses off

                                   The men they dance on the polka-dots

                                   And it's partner found and partner lost

                                   And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops

                                   It's closing time

 

MISTER HERE COMES EVERYBODY'S EPOCHAPOXAPOCALYPSE.  Mahdi.  MAUDDY MODDY BEAK MUDDY.  Audry Lorde to Diane DePrima: Dear Precious Person - You would love the lake country in Minnesota - the North Woods.  I thought of you a lot there and wondered if the place was printed on some story of yours. Or were you calling me?  ANSWER, KAYE.  GIVE THE YANG WOMAN A COLD ON THE TALLY FORTE.  So sad to pass away without an answer.  WHICH WE ALL DO EVENTUALLY.  What?  WE ALL CALL OUT.  THEN THE WOMAN COMES DOWN AND KILLS US WHERE WE STAND.  OFTEN, WITHOUT A RESPONSE.  Monster's ball.  CHA U-JAO: DID YOU EVER SEE HER MOVE?  Only in the sinescope.  THE TRAVELER CARVED HER GALLAHADLY, STIPPLING HER OPEN MOHAWK ON HIS BOARD.  Church us too.  Mars sells lenders; and marries belle forms.  DINK DONK.  Who is there?  INTERRUPTING COWS.  Interrupting cows.....?  MOOOOOOOOO!  Insignia of trust.  VINE AGAIN'S WOKE.  Frenzy knows faces.  BUM BULL BEE SLUMS.  Worstels.  I DREAM COLOGNE.  Hold it now, in your hand -- and hit it, girl.  HUNGUBER.  IN GEGEGEHENNA.  I gob loboed in a bard.  I LIKE BREER.  War built hall.  IF YOU DON'T START STINKING I'M GONNA START BLINKING.  Long-necked bolter.  RAUCOUS JEWS AND SHITTLINGS.  Booster boys.  THE PARTING PASS.  Tubthumping.  TWO POINTS OF RUSSIA.  The pee hand hose hast bent dinking.  TWO PENAL CULOTTAS.  Wind Ski Rivers.  DON HEN LEAD.  You're not thinking enough.  STOP.  What?  STOP THIS.  THIS BEAT GENERATION HYMN TO DRUNKENNESS AND SELF-DESTRUCTION!  WHAT KIND OF MORON DEIIFIES INEBRIATION?  Bacchus.  DIONYSIUS.  Butt callous key.  ROMEOLED FORD REMUS.  Bring on the engineer.  WHAT?  Bring on the engineer.  THEY'VE BEEN DRINKING ABSENCE ALL NIGHT.  Wormwood.   X ACTLY.  Let's dry out this woild cadenza.  KNOWLEDGE OF THE 12-STEP PROCESS WAS CONSIDERED USEFUL FOR THE CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF A PERFECTED INDIVIDUAL, WHOM THE GREEKS CALLED HO NIKON, THE CONQUEROR.  HE WAS REPRESENTED BY THE SUN GOD, SURROUNDED BY A PANTHEON OF TWELVE SPIRITUAL ATTRIBUTES.  TRADITIONALLY BORN DURING THE WINTER DARKNESS, DYING AND RESURRECTING DURING THE SPRINGTIME, THE SUN'S ANNUAL JOURNEY AROUND THE ZODIACAL BELT SYMBOLIZED THE PROCESS OF SPIRITUAL REGENERATION TAUGHT BY THE ANCIENTS ALL OVER THE WORLD.  You gotta love this Marceau -- he's so balanced; sew steady.  THE TRIANGLE NUMBERS BUILD UPWARD FROM AN EXPANDING BASE.  THE SQUARE NUMBERS EXPAND HORIZONTALLY.  PRIMARILY.  THE TRIANGLE NUMBERS IN THE DECAD ARE 1, 3, 6 AND 10.  THE SQUARE NUMBERS IN THE DECAD ARE 1, 4 AND 9.  THERE ARE FOUR TRIANGLE NUMBERS; AND THERE ARE THREE SQUARE NUMBERS.  AND 2, 5, 7 AND 8 ARE NOT EITHER TRIANGLE OR SQUARE NUMBERS.  WHAT ARE THEY?

 

 

 

Triangle Numbers

Triangle Sequence Differentials

 

 

 

Square Numbers

 

Square Sequence Differentials

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

0

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

 

1

1

 

 

 

 

 

2

 

3

4

 

2

3

 

 

3

 

6

9

 

3

5

 

 

4

 

10

16

 

4

7

 

 

5

 

15

25

 

5

9

 

 

6

 

21

36

 

6

11

 

 

7

 

28

49

 

7

13

 

 

8

 

36

64

 

8

15

 

 

9

 

45

81

 

9

17

 

 

10

 

55

100

 

10

19

 

 

11

 

66

121

 

11

21

 

 

12

 

78

144

 

12

23

 

 

13

 

91

169

 

13

25

 

 

14

 

105

196

 

14

27

 

 

15

 

120

225

 

15

29

 

 

16

 

136

256

 

16

31

 

 

17

 

153

289

 

17

33

 

 

18

 

171

324

 

18

35

 

 

19

 

190

361

 

19

37

 

 

20

 

210

400

 

20

39

 

 

21

 

231

441

 

21

41

 

 

22

 

253

484

 

22

43

 

 

23

 

276

529

 

23

45

 

 

24

 

300

576

 

24

47

 

 

25

 

325

625

 

25

49

 

 

26

 

351

676

 

26

51

 

 

27

 

378

729

 

27

53

 

 

28

 

406

784

 

28

55

 

 

29

 

435

841

 

29

57

 

 

30

 

465

900

 

30

59

 

 

31

 

496

961

 

31

61

 

 

32

 

528

1024

 

32

63

 

 

33

 

561

1089

 

33

65

 

 

34

 

595

1156

 

34

67

 

 

35

 

630

1225

 

35

69

 

 

36

 

666

1296

 

36

71

 

 

 

NOTE: THE TRIANGLE SEQUENCE DIFFERENTIALS ARE ONE AND THE SQUARE SEQUENCE DIFFERENTIALS ARE TWO.  THERE ARE THREE NUMBERS WHICH ARE BOTH TRIANGLE AND SQUARE NUMBERS -- HENCE, THESE THREE ARE SPECIAL: 1, 36 and 1225.  THESE ARE THE SQUARE ROOTS OF !, 6 AND 35.  These are complete numbers.  Androgynous, if you will.  TELL ME MORE.  The three numerals 0, 1, and 10 are purely Qabalistic, the 0 symbolic of Ain Soph Aur, 1 being Kether, and 10 being Malkuth, thus the whole of the Tree of Life. Now, when we add all the numbers of the Pyramid, 0 + 1 + 10 + 1 + 11 + 12 = 35, the value of QABALAH in our NOX Cipher! If we take these three numbers as one number, that is, 0110 (OI-IO), we have the NOX value of THE PILLARS, SIX & FIFTY, and THE MAGICKAL CHILD - 110. The Hebrew Words NS or Nace, a sign or standard, YQ or Yeq, to be reverent and obedient, LP or Lep, to join or embrace, and MO or Moi, the womb, also add to 110.  DON"T STOP.

 

1225

 SUM (1-49) = 35 to the 2nd power.           Venus.  Sq.Rt.

The Ancient of the Ancient Ones                 a'aThYQA Da'aThYQYN

 

ONE PLUS 6 IS 7.  AND 7 PLUS 35 IS 42.

 

42

The Number of the letters of a great          

   name of GOD terrible and strong,

   and of the Assessors of the Dead

Angel of                             `                  AYAL

Eloah, a name of GOD                             ALVH

The Supernal Mother,                               AMA

  unfertilized; see 52

Terror, calamity                                       BLHH

Loss, destruction                                     BLY

To cease                                                 ChDL

The World, Earth of Malkuth                     ChLD

My glory                                               KBVDY

 

Why has it come to this?  REMEMBER, ANY TWO CONSECUTIVE TRIANGLE NUMBERS WHEN ADDED TOGETHER EQUAL A SQUARE NUMBER.  Adding 10 to 42 gives us our 52.

 

52

                                              

Father and Mother                                    ABA VAMA

Supernal Mother                                      AYMA

Elihu - Eli Hua, "He is my           ALYHV

  GOD," who is the Holy

  Guardian Angel of Job in

  the Alegory                                  

[Vide K.D. L.C.K. p. 134]                        ANA

A mare; brute animal, beast          BHMH

Day Demon of 2nd Dec. Sagittarius            BYM

From all, among all                                 BKL

The Son: Assiah's "Secret            BN

  Nature"

Meditation, imagination, sin         ZMH

A desirable one; to desire                           ChMD

A husband's brother                                  YBM

Angel of Kether of Binah,            YHVAL

  << sic, s.b. Briah.>>

  and of Jesod of Binah

  << sic, s.b. Briah.>>

Tet. in Assiah                                         YVD HH VV HH

A dog                                                    KLB

Angel of 4 C., and of 10 P.                       LAVYH

 

BEFORE THE BEGINNING THERE WERE NO WORDS.  THERE WAS ONLY CHAOS.  NO LETTERS.  ONLY CHAOS.  Darkness on the face of the Deep.  MUD.  A GARBAGE HEAP.  All colors reduced in to the blank of the dream.  WHERE GOD IS FOUND.  God found in the dark.  IS HE WAKING UP AGAIN?  I SAW HIM MOVING?  He is praying.  YES, OF COURSE.  (BUT IT SEEMED LIKE HE WAS SLEEPING.  NOW I SAW HIM MOVE.)  Calm yourself.  (IS HE DREAMING US OR ARE WE DREAMING HIM?)  As the dreamer allows the world to collapse, and then, upon waking, must re-create the world by organizing it in his mind, remembering who he is, what he does, what time is, what history is -- so it is with the world when it goes to sleep.  THE MIDDLE PRINCIPLE IS DARK TO FIGHT THE WHITE NAZIS; AND THEN HE IS WHITE TO FIGHT THE DARK NAZIS.  Balancer; small lancer.  WHAT?  Stemmed.  THOU SHELLED NUT MOLDER, SKULLY.  When the Dark comes he says: MAKEALL GONE.  MICHAEL GONE.  The dark formuless celebate.  RISING A GLASS OF PITCH TO THE FALLEN DOG.  It's even s'even s'even.  LITTLE DICK LAW HAS VANISHED IN THE MAW.  All the stars crowd leaves.  During the Night there are many stars -- that is the nature of democracy.  An the Day, there is only one star.  PORCUPINESEST.  Abbadabbba -- that's old, forks.  NARCOLEPSY CROSSMANN.

 

M

I

C

H

A

E

L

 

C

R

O

S

S

M

A

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

M

I

C

 

A

E

 

 

 

R

 

 

 

 

A

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I

 

H

A

E

 

 

 

 

 

S

S

M

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A

M

E

R

I

C

A

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

M

E

S

S

I

A

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

13

5

18

9

3

1

14

 

64

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13

5

19

19

9

1

8

 

74

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

138

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You seed: this is how the gods are created out of the Darkness.  How the gods creed thain cells out of the woid.

 

138

                                            

The Son of GOD                         BN ALHYM

To smoothe, divide                      ChLQ

To leaven, ferment                       ChMTz

To pollute                                  ChNP

Libanon.  [Cant. iv. 11, 15]          LBNVN

He shall smite                             MChTz

Forehead                                    MTzCh

 

138 = Ho, Oh, I Am, Made, In, Kebad, Maha, Naga.

 

64

SUM (1 - 64 = 2080).                  Mercury               

Spirit of Mercury                         ThPThRThRTh

 

64 (32 x 2)

32. Number of Sephiroth and Paths, 10 + 22. Hence is completion of perfection. Finality: things as they are in their totality. AHIHVH, the combined AHIH and IHVH, Macroprosopus, and Microprosopus, is here. If we suppose the 3 female letters H to conceal the 3 mothers A, M, Sh, we obtain the number 358, Messiach, q.v. Note 32 = 25, the divine Will extended through motion. 64 = 26, will be the perfect number of matter, for it is 8, the first cube, squared. So we find it a Mercurial number, as if the solidity of matter was in truth eternal change.

 

64. DIN and DNI, intelligences (the twins) of Mercury.

 

Mercury: 8, 64, 260, 2080.

Generally speaking, the first number gives a divine name, the second an archangelic or angelic name, the third a name pertaining to the Formative world, the fourth a name of a "spirit" or "blind force." Fro example, Mercury has AZ and DD (love) for 8, DIN and DNI for 64, TIRIAL for 260, and ThPThRThRTh for 2080.

 

64

I AM EIGHT adds to Hermetic number 64 as does I AM NONE, and the square root of 64 is 8. I AM EIGHT AND ONE = 111 by our NOX Cipher, which alludes to ciphering of the previous passage and it's association with Hadit.

 

64

  8 to the 2nd power  = Sq.Rt. 3rd Rt. 6th Rt.

  4 to the 3rd power  =

  2 to the 6th power. Mercury

A sigh, groan, deep breath                         ANChH

Justice                                                   DYN

(Din and Doni are twin Mercurial                DNY

  Intelligences in Gemini)                              

The golden waters                                    MY ZHB

[I.R.Q. xl. 996]                                       MYZHB

Prophecy                                                NBVAH

Sphere of Venus                                      NVGH

Noach                                                    NVCh

 

Add ONE to the Twins of Mercury, Din and Doni, you get:

 

65. ADNI. In Roman characters LXV = LVX, the redeeming light.

 

DIN.  A common interpretation of the qlippoth (the negative or EVIL) is that they represent the negative or averse aspect of a sephira, as if each sephira had a Mr. Hyde to complement Dr. Jekyll. There are many variations of this idea. One of the most common is the idea that evil is caused by an excess of the powers of Din (judgement) in the creation. The origin of this imbalance may be innate, a residue of the moment of creation, when each sephira went through a period of imbalance and instability (the kingdoms of unbalanced force), but another version attributes this imbalance to humankind's propensity for the Tree of Knowledge in preference to the Tree of Life (a telling and precognitively inspired metaphor if ever there was one...).  The imbalance of the powers of Din "leaks" out of the Tree and provides the basis for the "sitra achra", the "other side", or the "left side" (referring to pillar of severity), a quasi or even fully independent kindom of evil. This may be represented by a full Tree in its own right, sometimes by a great dragon, sometimes by seven hells. The most lurid versions combine Kabbalah with medieval demonology to produce detailed lists of demons, with Samael and Lilith riding at their head as king and queen.

 

Luria made the first step in the creation a process called "tzim tzum"or contraction. This contraction took place in the En Soph, the limitless,unknown, and unknowable God of Kabbalah. God "contracted" in a process of self-limitation to make a space (in a metaphorical sense, of course) for the creation. In the next step the light entered this space in a jet to fill the empty vessels of the sephiroth, but all but the first three were shattered by the light. This breaking of the vessels is called "shevirah". The shards of the broken vessels fell into the abyss created by contraction, and formed the qlippoth, Evil. Most of the light returned to the En Soph, but some of it remained in the vessels (like a smear of

oil in an empty bottle) and fell with the qlippoth.

 

Scholem describes the shevirah and the expulsion of the qlippoth as cathartic; not a blunder, an architectural miscalculation like  an inadequately buttressed Gothic cathedral, but as a catharsis. Perhaps the universe, like a new baby, came attached to a placenta which had to be expelled, severed, and thrown out into the night.

 

One way of looking at the shevirah is this: the self contraction of tzim tzum was an act of Din, or Judgement, and so at the root of the creative act was the quality which Kabbalists identify with the source of evil, and it was present in such quantity that a balanced creation became possible only by excreting the imbalance. The shevirah can be

viewed as a corrective action in which the unbalanced powers of Din, the broken vessels, were ejected into the abyss.

 

Whether cathartic or a blunder, the shevirah was catastrophic. Nothing was as it should have been in an ideal world. The four worlds of Kabbalah slipped, and the lowest world of Assiah descended into the world of the shells. This can be seen in the G.D. picture of the

Eden after the Fall. Much of Lurianic Kabbalah is concerned with corrective actions designed to bring about the repair or restoration (tikkun) of the creation, so that the sparks of light trapped in the realm of the shells can be freed.

 

Din, Ego, Cain, Lo, Red, Hand.

 

Din.  The number 5 is emanated the feminine passive potency GBVRH, Geburah, strength or fortitude; or DIN, Deen, Justice; represented by the Divine Names, ALHIM GBVR, and ALH, Eloh, and the angelic name ShRPIM, Seraphim (Isa. vi. 6). This Sephira is also called PChD, Pachad, Fear.

 

74. LMD, Lamed, an expansion of 30. Reads "By equilibrium and self- scrifice, the

            Gate!"

            Thus useful.

            Also 74 = 37 x 2.

 

   So we see

            37 x 1 = 37, Man's crown, Jechidah, the highest Soul --- "in termino."

             37 x 2 = 74, The Balance, 2 being the symbol "in viÄ."

             37 x 3 = 111, Aleph, etc., 3 being the Mother, the nurse of the

                          soul.

             37 x 4 = 148, "The Balances. 

 

Aleph and Lamed form the word Al which means God, so we understand the Aleph-Lamed connection to represent the vital idea of the primal driving force being controlled. The Ox Goad is something which regulates the primal raw energy of Aleph, the unfathomable Beginning, and Lamed is charged with the responsibility of reconciling and meditating the most powerful forces of the Cosmos. Lamed is called the "Teacher of Teachers" whose instruction is like unto a goad which guides through the circuit of existence. The letter Lamed spelled out equals 74, the same number as the word "circuit" (SBYB) and also the word "constantly" (OD) or "till eternity," demonstrating the nature of this Intelligence as that of the ever faithful and eternal Spirit.

 

The archetype of "Our Lady of the Scales" is the Egyptian Maat, goddess of truth, justice and law. Her task was to weigh the souls of the dead to determine their fate in the afterlife. She did this by placing the heart of the deceased on one side of the scale and the "Feather of Maat" on the other. It oneÕs heart was too heavy with guilt, it tipped the scales. On the other hand, if oneÕs heart was pure, perfect balance was maintained and one was admitted to the rewards of the heavenly kingdom. Maat was the daughter of Ra, the Sun God, and on the tree of Life, this Path connects Geburah, the Law of Undeviating Justice, with Tiphareth, the Sun-King. Her sword points upward toward the Strength and Severity of the Law, while her scales represent the Beauty and Harmony of Tiphareth. She acts as a regulator of energy and a keeper of the balance. Lamed represents work or action, Maat represents total equilibration, yet at the same time, constant motion.

 

It is called the Faithful Intelligence, for by it "spiritual virtues are increased and all dwellers on earth are nearly under its shadow." The word "faithful" in Hebrew is Amen, an auspicious word to Qabalists because its number (91) is the sum of the two great Divine Names YHVH (26) and Adonai (65).  Amen is one of the names assigned to Kether and is related to the idea of the original motivational impulse from which everything else proceeds.

 

He is awake now -- I can tell.  WHO IS AWAKE?  Home.  He's such a Thebe.  BLACKWORD SINGING IN THE DEBT OF NIGHT, TANK THESE STOLEN WINGS AND EARN TO FLY.    ALL YOUR LIMN.  YOUR WORD ONLY WADING FORD THIS NOMOMENT TO ELIDE.  Backwards singing in the debths of Knocks.  Take these drunken tribes and learn to seed.  All your fide.  Your wid only weighting for dead monuments to erode.  BLACKBOARD GREENING IN THE BED OF NIGH.  DATE THESE TOKEN THINGS AND LEARN TO DIE.  YOU ARE ONLY FATING, TELL THIS MOMENT TO BE PYRED.  Blagburke fry;  Bagblurt fire -- in to the life of a darkblack fright.  MILITARISTIC HIGHPRIEST of THROB.  Karnakluxor roxulkanrak.  UMPTEENESS OF ZEREDNESS.  Nichtnock.  WHO'D DARE?  Mountymeant.  MOUNTYMEANT WHO?  Mountymeant to the deb; Montymeant to adlibbing.  The militaristic high priest of Throb.  THE STRUCTURE OF THE ETYM WILL TAKE YOU BACK TO THE BEGINNING, THE THE GROUND, TO THE FIRST SOIL.  BUT IT WON'T TAKE YOU BACK BEYAWNED THE BIG INNING.  I see he's stirring.  MILKY WAY.  I see he's purring.  SILKY ILKY PAIRING.  Mother's hand on his head.  OH, A BAD DREAM?  Drink some more of that absence, friend.  ANNAMANOPEEYA: PISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.  Behind the wall he moves.  BLADDER BETTER WHEN THE BEDWETTER'S BAD BROTHER BETS BETTER.  Stream of precognition.  PLATTERIVER.  PLATTERIVER.  TURNING THE GOLD.  Ages of gold, wages of gold.  BEHIND THE TREE ON THE STONE.  WATCH IT FREEZE BEFORE IT FALLS, SJ.  Side Judge?  GOD'S ARMY.  BEING FORMED.  Calligulately.  ON OUR MIST.  Mother of De Sangra Jun Franco.  SURCUMAMBULATORY.  Grief.  OBNOXSHUSH.  LET THE MAN SLEEP.  HE WILL NEED HIS STRENGTH IN THE MOURNING.  Merlin Rouge: one and all.  All and one.  Dancing with hymn celts.  AGASSED.  Weltenmantel und Himmelszelt.  ROOT.  Recombining allforter the root.  THE ROOD IS ETERNAL.  THE ROOD DOES NOT DE-KAYE.  Unterschmutz.  UBERMENSCH UNTERSCHMUTZ.  The Men are Gods during the Day; and the Men are demons during the Night.  THE 6 IS BOTH THE SUM AND THE PRODUCT OF ITS DIVISORS.

 

                             

 1 + 2 + 3 =

6

 

 

 6 / 1 =

6

 6 / 2 =

3

 6 / 3 =

2

 6 / 6 =

1

 

Honey icon.  ITCH, ITCH, ITCH.  The 6 is the first of only two terms within the DEKADE composed only by the multiplication of two different factors (other than unity).  It shares this attribute only with the completed Dekad.

 

 1 = 1 x 1

 2 = 1 x 2

 3 = 1 x 3

 4 = 2 x 2

 5 = 1 x 5

 6 = 2 x 3

 7 = 1 x 7

 8 = 2 x 2 x 2

 9 = 3 x 3

 10 = 2 x 5

 

Because the 6 is the doubling of the 3, it partakes of the Triad's principle of balanced structure.  The Hexad is, in many ways, rooted in the Triad.  Ancient mathematical philosophers, viewing numbers as collections of Monads arranged into geometric shapes, gave significance to the fact that the number 6 was the third of four triangular numbers in the Dekad (1, 3, 6, 10).  Notice that the differential between triangular numbers is the feminine numbers of 2, 3, and 4.  Ancients also noted that 6 is both the sum and the product of its divisors (1, 2 and 3).  Hence, to the nascients, 6 represented the parents (1 and 2) of all numbers with their firstborn (3), thus making a completed whole -- that is, the 6 Days of Creation.  They called the 6 the Perfections of Parts, since 6 is the only nummber that is both the sun and the product of the same three integers.

 

 1 + 2 + 3 =

6

 1 x 2 x 3 =

6

 

Agaain, the divisors of 6 (1,2 and 3) compose the only set of three integers wherein each number divides the sum of the other two -- accentuating, quite strikingly, the intimate connection between the numbers 1, 2 3 and 6.

 

 6 / 1 =

6

 6 / 2 =

3

 6 / 3 =

2

 6 / 6 =

1

 

Further intrigued  by the interplay of 2 and 3, and noticing that 2 + 3 = 5 and 2 x 3 = 6, the scients saw in both the Pentad and the Hexad different symbols of 'marriage' since they're both formed by the interplay of the female term (2 is considered even and female) and a male term (3 is odd and considered male).  And (and this is the key), only 5 and 6 generate progeny like themselves -- that is, self-multiplying powers of 5 always end in 5 .  Likewise, the powers of 6 when self-multiplying always end in 6.  No other number, aside from Unity, which generates and shares the properties of all numbers, have the ability to generate such models of themselves.

 

 0 x 0 =

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

 1 x 1 =

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

 2 x 2 =

4

8

16

32

64

128

256

512

 3 x 3 =

9

27

81

243

729

2187

6561

19683

 4 x 4 =

16

64

256

1024

4096

16384

65536

262144

 5 x 5 =

25

125

625

3125

15625

78125

390625

1953125

 6 x 6 =

36

216

1296

7776

46656

279936

1679616

10077696

 7 x 7 =

49

343

2401

16807

117649

823543

5764801

40353607

 8 x 8 =

64

512

4096

32768

262144

2097152

16777216

134217728

 9 x 9 =

81

729

6561

59049

531441

4782969

43046721

387420489

 

OF COURSE, ZERO IS NOT A NUMBER.  AND, IN THE SAME SENSE, 10 IS NOT A NUMBER.  Notice how the numbers 2, 3, 7 and 8 take four numbers to resolve themselves into zero (for example, using number 2: 4 + 8 + 16 + 32 = 60; taking number 3: 9 + 27 + 81+ 243 = 360).  By contrast, the numbers 4, 5 and 9 resolve themselves into zero using only two numbers (4: 16 + 64 = 80; 9: 81 + 729 = 810).  Note how only numbers 1 and 6 never do resolve themselves back into zero.  THAT SEEMS SIGNIFICANT.  Kether and Tiphereth.  YES.  But don't steal the coal.  (REMEMBER, CROSSMANN'S FACE IS STILL MARKED BLANK WITH THAT PIECE OF SOOT GIVING HIM ACCESS TO THE DARK PLACES.)  Is this to say that only these two numbers never die?  I THINK YOU MAY BE ON TO SOMETHING, FRIED SHAGMONT.  Fried brown.  YES, REMEMBER HE IS STILL NEAR HERE.  CIRCLING LIKE A WENDER.  Which way?  WENDING LIKE A WHICH WAY.

 

1

 

 

 

 

 

2

4

8

6

2

20

3

9

7

1

3

20

4

6

4

 

 

10

5

5

5

 

 

10

6

 

 

 

 

 

7

9

3

1

7

20

8

4

2

6

8

20

9

1

9

 

 

10

 

2 and 3 are clearly related to 7 and 8.  4 and 5 are clearly related to 9.  1 is perhaps related to 6.  1 PLUS 6 IS 7.  1 AND 6 IS 16.  IS THAT WHAT YOU MEAN?  Let the shy dear continue:  THE PENTAD (5) EXPRESSES THIS SELF-REPLICATION IN ITS LIVING FORMS.  THE HEXAD (6) EXPRESSES IT SELF-SIMILARITY IN SELF-REINFORCING STRUCTURE-FUNCTION-ORDER.  THUS, THE HEXAD WAS DUBBED THE 'FORM OF FORM' AND THE 'UNWEARIED ANVIL' BY THE PYTHAGOREANS.  IN ALL WAYS, THEN, THE HEXAD RESTS ON A STABLE FOUNDATION WHOSE PARTS ARE MUTUALLY SUPPORTING. 

 

                       

 

THE HEXAD IS SOMETIMES SYMBOLIZED BY THE  PYTHAGOREAN TRIANGLE OR THE 3-4-5 RIGHT TRIANGLE.  IN THIS EXAMPLE, THE BASE IS 3 AND THE HEIGHT IS 4.  THE PYTHAGOREAN THEORUM STATES THAT THE SQUARE OF THE HYPOTENUSE OF A RIGHT TRIANGLE IS EQUAL TO THE SUM OF THE SQUARES OF THE OTHER TWO SIDES.  IN THIS CASE 3 SQUARED IS 9 AND 4 SQUARED IS 16 AND 9 PLUS 16 IS 5 SQUARED OR 25.  THE AREA OF A TRIANGLE IS 1/2 TIMES THE BASE (1/2 TIMES 3 EQUALS 1.5) TIMES THE HEIGHT (1.5 TIMES 4 EQUALS 6).

 

                                   

 

Seven identical circles help to form a hexagon.  EVERY HEXAGON IS A STATEMENT ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP OF A CIRCLE'S CIRCUMFERENCE TO ITS RADIUS.  A HEXAGON IS THE CIRCLE'S RADIUS EXTERNALIZED, IT'S CIRCUMFERENCE INTERNALIZED.  IN OTHER WORDS, EACH ONE OF A HEXAGON'S SIDES IS EQUAL TO ITS OWN RADIUS AND TO THE RADIUS OF THE CIRCLE CIRCUMSCRIBING IT.  The seven circles forming the hexagon was viewed by ancients as a representation of the Biblical Days of Creation, the outer six representing the Six Days of Creation, surrounding the central circle, which was considered the Sabbath.

 

 

                                   

 

THE SABBATH BEING THE FLOWER OF THE SYSTEM PRODUCED BY THE DAY.  OUR INFAMOUS 777.  The angel carries a measuring rod to measure the city and its gates and walls (Rev21:15).   By gematria the number of the 'measuring rod' is 777.  ONE TIMES ONE PLUS FOURTEEN TIMES FOURTEEN PLUS SIXTEEN TIMES SIXTEEN PLUS EIGHTEEN TIMES EIGHTEEN EQUALS 777.  Cross = (stigma + alpha + upsilon + rho + omicron + sigma) = (6 + 1 + 400 + 100 + 70 + 200) = 777.  7 + 7 + 7 (OR 21) X  37 = 777.

 

ORTHODOX MESSIAH (hei5 + mem40 + shin300 + yud10 + chet8 + dalet4 + tav400 + yud10) = 777

 

YHWH IN YESHUA MESSIAH (yud10 + hei5 + vav6 + hei5 + beit2 + yud10 + shin300 + vav6 + ayin70 + hei5 + mem40 + shin300 + yud10 + chet8) = 777

 

YESHUA SAVE (yud10 + shin300 + vav6 + ayin70 + hei5 + vav6 + shin300 + yud10 + ayin70) = 777

 

One is the Spirit of the Living God -- AChTh RVCh ALHYM ChYYM = 777

 

Esher Asher; fresher mesmer.  NERVE VANISHED FIRST; THEN WHAT?  Pardon me.  ENDGAME. 

 

1

37

 

2

74

 

3

111

*

4

148

 

5

185

 

6

222

*

7

259

 

8

296

 

9

333

*

10

370

 

11

407

 

12

444

*

13

481

 

14

518

 

15

555

*

16

592

 

17

629

 

18

666

*

19

703

 

20

740

 

21

777

*

22

814

 

23

851

 

24

888

*

25

925

 

26

962

 

27

999

*

 

Nerve vanished versed; then what?  MY GOD, LOOK AT MY HANDS!  MY FINGERS ARE MUDDY!  IT'S AS IF I'VE BEEN DIGGING IN THE DIRT.  My God, what have you been doing?  Your fingernails are broken!  AND MINE TOO!  Jesus.  ARE WE DIGGING A GRAVE HERE, OR WHAT?  Or exhuming an arkhealllogical site?  DAMN!  DON'T LET THE INDIANS HEAR ABOUT THIS!  You mean the Native Americans!  I AM 1/37 CHEROKEE.  Of course you are, son.  BRUN FINGERS.  That's not faces, is it?  WHAT?  You know: refuse.  Human refuse.  NO, OF COURSE NOT!  Brown something.  SOIL, THAT IS ALL.  DIRT.  PG with expatations.  ROCKY GRAVE TO BE SURE.  Is this an archeologiccal site?  It's a damn strange place for a museum.  Right up here near somebody's feet.  PIED.  MONT.  You can always clean your hands, gentlemen.  Keep digging.  There must be something more to dind down there.  BUT DON'T WAKE HIM.  HE IS DOWN IN THE ONE ELEMENT DRINKING WATER THAT WILL MAKE HIM STRONG WHEN HE AWAKENS.  At his wake, you mean?  WHO ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?  Old Nemo, Captain o' my Captain.  OH, TURNABOUT IS FAIRE PLAY.  The T is the doubleheaded axe of Cretan symbolism -- called 'labrynthos' or something like that.  WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT.  Minos Man -- you know him.  What he became when he was drowsing.  DECOCKING BULL; AND THEN GROUSING GINGERLY.  IMMINENTLY.  Wooden you no it?  YOU'VE NO'D EVERYTHING ELSE FOR A GENDERATION.  The sex tease genderation -- is that your label form E?  PLEASE, YOU NOSQUARES.  YOU NOSFERRETTWOS.  NEGATIVE HATS ON NEGATIVE BRATS.  No thing was good enough for you.  HE POINTED AT A GRAVE TO ME AND ZED: WHAT DO YOU THINK -- DO YOU THINK YOU COULD LIVE IN THAT?  Taking the E Z way out.  E IS FOR ENZYME; Z IS FOR ZEITLAST.  Environmental nogood Nick.  WHEN MAKE ALL MICHAEL RETURNS TO HEAVEN HE FINDS A GENERATION OF BEDWETTERS WHO HAVE NOT CLEFT THEIR MUDDER'S TEAT SPEAKING OF THE WONDERS OF DEATH AND THE GLORY OF THE DARK NOUGHT EASTERLIES.  AND THESE HE KIDS OUT OF HEAVEN BY FOODROOTROD, SHOWING THEM THE FALLIBLE MORALTALITY OF THEIR DARKTRINE, THE SIDE OF THE QUODENDZA THAT THEY HALF BEEN DEADNYING -- OR OF WHICH THEY WORD MERE LAY BLIND.  Mother Fuggers they are too: milking their moss like they were a hoss in winter, a bank with an ordnance of drank and drummy draughters all wound up in their cloths for proviscous urban entry.  Wanting their women freed so they, they mend, won't have to wormk and support anone.  SNIGGERING BEHIND AN UPHELD HAND.  Milking the bitch; and heaving her play the rend due.  FREE WARMEN WITH NOUVELLEST INSIDE DEUS.  Mife as swell drake the sinister too.  Bedend her over and take a swinpe at her gladiola.  Long live the maidreaddarkly!  Long live the rising cleft!  The mummer muff and the sisturns sad turning wombplum.  I WOUND HALF TO WORK IF I LET MIZ MUFFIT RULE THE POOL FROM HER DOVE FIT.  HEIFER HEEDING HER CURES AND WAVES -- MALADY, QUEEN OF PEAS AND OF HEAD EASE!  I can lay her all day, and take T with the puffers, and foreign a gate wend I went tool.  LET THE DAMN POOLFOOL WOMEN WORK!  LET THEM WORL; AND I'LL SILT ON MY ARTS ALL DAY.  STORK ABOUT X INCH STENCIL HIMISMS AND ABUD THE POLEODDIC REMISSTRANCES OF ARCTIC ADVERBS AND STINK MY BREER WHICH HE STEEPS IN HIS PROISON, GENED TO HIS LIVER LIKE A VULCANTURE WEIGHTING FOR APOX OF LIPS TO PANS.  Aides bi wed you.  WANDS HEWN TUBE BEE A POLISHEDMAN TWO?  Labyrinth major and labyrinth minor.  IS THE LABASINTHE, THINGMAKE, SUM KIND OF BIRDTH CANALIA, THEN?  He wands to no the seed great of the rose erection of the boughty.  DON'T SPEAK THEN.  REDRUM AWAITS FOR THE NOE WHO SPIGS THE SIGFRETTE.  Thanostopically speaking, the re sur rection of the booty is given by got and by got's cistern (Valley Creed by nature) only to the show zen om.  RAISED FROM OUT THE NONFISCAL DRIZZLEBHED BY THE MAD STICK WELDED FROM HENCE OF OUR CHANGEL.  Urdth.  Urdth's caves.  LOBBY MAJOR; LOBBY MINOR.  Coming in or going out?  ONLY MENO CAN SAY.  JJ in a breakwater: No thing making new thing wealthshowever for a silly old soul, healthy to bedder and latewiser.  OPEN COAT; CLOSED COAT.  (Larson!)  YAWNING ABBASS.  (Who is rousing him?)  LOOK AT HIM, THERE IN THE WINDOW.  Isn't it Israfel, the Summerer?  Israfel the summon door?  HE HAS A GRINCHED FIST; AND HE'S SNOOKERING US IN THE I.  Listen!  HAR BOAR BLOWING!  MAPLE DICK MAKING PAPAL TRICKS.  The opening of the cow made in the family of imran great converse for the women at the dinner table.  The cattle, generally, belonged to elevated places.-- the accessions, the immunities, which were long reserved for Jonah or the Holy Prophet Yusuf, nicknamed The Thunder by Abraham when standing on his rock harassed by the bee, looking down on the Children of Israel, threatening to send them to the cave without their supper.  Smiling alone at Marium -- ta ha -- oh, those prophets love to love, especially while on the pilgrimage, mingling with the soft-skinned believers, the light coming off their faces, the distinction of their gentle natures so rich and demure, the poets so moved by that tenderness.  They resurrected the ant narratives, emphasizing hard work, diligence and the danger of the spider.  Oh, how the Romans ruin everything!  Luck, man; it was the luck of those damn adorationist clans.  This Aba, the father, the originator, yes, in the rangers first; this you add to the companions of the believer, Ham's family, Mim's family, and the counsel, with their ornaments of gold, the smoke and mirrors, the rooms filled with dark political intrigue, the kneeling on the sandhills, ants and spiders covering the legs, more humid than you would realize at first look.  The victory of this man was finalized in the chambers, the smoke-filled bedrooms, where the quaff of discord scattered all but the mountain himself, the star, the moon, the beneficient, Aba, great man of the skies, never unmoved; he ruled his kingdom with a heart made of iron, in the tradition of the old book.  Eve, his young wife, vented her discomfort; 'I ran,' she cried, she who pleaded.  'I ran to fight the banishment of the examined one, raked over the coals by the ranks of the vile sycophants, the congregation, the hypocrites.  Oh, the mute, cruel deceit!  The divorce?  The prohibition of divorce that rang throughout the kingdom?  I had no choice.  I had only a pen, the inevitable last refuge of a romantic.  The way of ascent was blocked off to me.  New ways to turn were blocked.  I drink the gin; I wrapped up my body in sack cloth.  They even called me the Covered One.  My pained disenchantment was so grand.  I dreamed of the resurrection.  Time would deliver me.  I prayed to be sent forth.  I considered myself the great event.  The draggers, those who hold down the flying birds, clutched at me, seeking ever to anchor me.  He frowned, Aba, my husband, evoking his power, patriarch that he was -- husband and lord that he wished to be.  I folded up, cleaving to my own hidden nature.  The deceivers in measuring time convinced him that my era had not come; that matriarchy was not here.  Those adept at rending asunder the spiritual archives of night despoiled my finest speeches. my harbors.  The celestial stations were closed off to me; my radio taken away.  The nightly visitant, the young man whom we shall call in this testament Potiphar, the most high friend, smoker of herbs, filler of aching voids with words and generative deeds, has been shackled and removed from my presence.  Oh, the overwhelming calamity.  The daybreak is coming over the city; the Sun will please all but myself -- for I am chained here, always in this night. The brightness, the expansion of the day, which I love so much -- the fig tree, the culotte I love to wear while riding my bicycle; the grandeur of the spring sap in the maple trees, making me gooey for love -- this is all clear evidence of my own virtue.  I am not some revolutionary because I love the earth.  I am not a danger to these men, with their sensitive manhoods and their fears of invasive surgery.  The quaking of the establishment tells me much.  The charges -- this calamity -- rips me to the bone.  The old guard is there, sitting at the club, drinking absinthe and wearing ascots, vying in abundance for some soliloquy of will.  The age is wearing them down; the slanderer moves against me, not against them.  For he is in their allegiance.  The elephant will not forget my pain.  The queerish man who holds the keys to my cell dares not look me in the face.  Alms -- the poor want to give me alms.  The abundance of good makes me weep in their presence.  They know the disbelievers are to blame.  They wish to help.  One of them hands me a flame.  I turn to frighten the key-keeper with my sudden illumination; but my dress is lit; it begins to burn.  Horrible accident!'  (SILENCE.)  Is that it?  Is that the end?  (SILENCE.)  His face no longer seen as a wind ode.  SEED GREATS COMING FORM ALL DIRECTIONS.  You accuse this man of theft -- but he is not a thief.  He is simply burrowing from the past, from the pre-existent world.  WHAT?  I admit his hands are not gleam.  But burrowing is not a grime.  He has grauled upon some treasury of isoceles vats, tomes of Egyptian gravitas and grafitas.  He webes them velliments into his own buddhy.  Is that so wrong?  Is that really a crime in this insectastance?  LET ME PUT THESE WORDS YOU USE IN MY DEAD BARROW, MISTER WILL YAMS.  WALK AWAY WITH MY TREASURE TROVE, IF YOU CAN.  BUT IF YOU DON'T, THEN I'LL SURMISE YOUR WILDEBEAST IS DONE.  Will to resist!  But he is using living matter, not dead matter!  HE IS A CANNIBAL.  HE IS CANNIBALIZING.  WELL, I BELIEVE THAT IS AGAINST THE LAW.  YES, HE'LL HAVE TO STAND TRIAL FOR THAT.  Wurming his way innude the skulls of others.  MOUTHPIECEING SOME BOY NOMED MOISES TO DO HIS DIRT WORK.  MOSES AND THAT OTHER CLYDE, THAT FAT FACED FELLOW IN THE FEALTY OVERCOAT.  Tide hide.  Tease urt.  PERGAMMON PERGAMON.  Clock and spiel.  THE TIME IS....ZERO MOST TELL WHEN THE TIME IS....ZERO MOST TELL WHEN THE TIME IS....ZERO MOST TELL.  Stop it!  Are you a griever or a beliver?  A sot or a gotterdaughterrammung?  HOW DID THE ETYMS CRAWL UP OUT OF THE CORE OF THE EARTH, OUT OF THE SEALED CAVES OF THE EARTH, ROLLING THE STONE OUT OF THE MOUTH, TO FINALLY REACH THE UPPER CRUST AND THE LIGHT, COMPLETING THEIR MIGRATION FROM THE VAUNTED WARMB, THE SOILD OF THE EARTH, OUT TO THE FATHER, WHICH THEY HITHERTO KNEW AXISTED NOT?  Roots crawling up out of the earth.  As our friend Crossmann balled up out of the womb when he wrote that tract on dying which is (forgive me) unreadable to the decent eye.  DAY SENT I.  Yes, so your eggo is a dove.  A MINISTER OF DAWN.  I stands for Individual.  G stands for Godliness.  G stands for the Glory of Gold.  Y stands for Why Did It Take So Long -- and why are my fingernails embedded with this really unproductive dirt?  IGGY POP.  IGGY POP STANDS FOR IGGY POP STAR.  (The audience applauds.)  Peter is the first buried, the corner stone of the edifice; for Peter is the first petrified tree.  YEW KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT, I GUESS.  Unhempily.  AB SEES IN THE LAND OF AMEN TEA.  What?  ALICE BARELY SEES UNTIL SHE LOOKS AT SHE HERSELF IN THE BOOKING GLASS.  BAIL! HE CRIED.  BAIL IS NEEDED FOR MY FRIEND, THE LEAF, WHOSE ONLY CRIME WAS PILFERING FALLEN LEAVES HE DUG UP WITH HANDS OF BMUD -- VULVEN LEAVES HEFT BEDHIND BY CRAFTY VIKES BEDTRAYING THEIR KING.  UNTELLED LECTURERS PROVOKING FATALITY WITH A LUST FOR THE OLD GAL GOTH HUG.  Dig down deep a nut, you'll touch the spire.  AMIENS.  AMIENS.  Sea anemone.  SEE AN AMENTI.   Amiens.  Amiens.  THE NUT HAS MILLIARD DEMOCRATIC STARS, ALL SHINING BRIDELY AS ONE ART.  The Day has a king.  The Day has a Rasta.  One Star shining broughtly.  BROODERLY.  One up; one down.  STAR AND ANTI-STAR.  Dark and Anti-Dark.  WE SEEM TO US (THE REAL US!) TO BE READING OUR AMENTI IN THE SIXTH SEALED CHAPTER OF THE GOING FORTH OF BLACK.  Or Brown.  Depending upon one's eye for color.  WE SEEM TO ITS (THE REAL IDS!) TO BE TREADING OUR DIMENTIA IN THE RIDTH REELED CHAT DOOR OF THE BORING FORTH OF BARK.  Tree that we are.  TREE THAT WE ARE IMPRUNED IN.  Tree root.  Going under.  YEW, YEW, YEW DIRTY RAT.  YOU DIRTY MOLEMANIANC.  Megalamoaniac.  BOW-WE, BOW-WE, BOW-WE.  Bough-weed, bough-wee, bough-weed.  TREEDING OUR DESCENSION LIKE THE GIFT WHEEL CHARTER OF THE FLOORING OARTH OF DARK.  Climb in, massa.  Your bode of a minioned ears is loading.  Ra-ra when you coming; and ra-ra when you goin'.  But end bedween, all kings of dread and carburated canine.  WAKE HIM UP THEN!  Shh.  Not yet.  The Sun is low.  CUTE NEEDER, SITTING THERE LIKE A STIFF MOLE SMOLT IN BRAYER.  Pop of rust.  Pauper owes us.  SEKER OF THE TROTH -- WALLOWING IN THE TROUGH OF SWEEP.  Shh. He's praying.  IS THAT A MARK OF ROSS ON HIS FOREHEAD?  Shrew polish.  Remember.  CATSKILLER.  Golden calf trader.  YES, I REMEMBER HER: EYE GREEN AND CHEEK RED SULLIED.  EYE GREEN AND CARD GUILING.  Yes.  Let him sleep.  Let him disremember.  DYS-ASTOLE WILLED SLOLELY VARNISHED.  I seed.  ANNIE, ANNIE, I DREAMED OF YOUR STREAMING.  Lub Maven in a farther's steed.  NINA, NINA, WHY DID YOU WEED ME?  I story of the broken remains of the scattered mandate ones the I's obliderate.  WE WAKEN; AND THEN WE USE ALL THE POWERS OF OUR GRAVITY TO PULL TOGGEVER AGAIN ALL THE OPJECTS AND EDDIE FACES OF OUR CONNED SCIENCE BACK IN TO ARDOR -- USING OUR WHEELED TO CONSTIPULATE ALL THE FOURMS IN THE ONE DEAD FORCE BACK IN TWO PATTERNS OF COMPLAISANCY SO THAT OUR NOING WILL BEAD UNTERMENSCHED.  And dat, my friend, is the nature of creedation.  JOLSON, JOLSON, JOLSON!  Beading a padth to ever none's bad door.  SON, WASH THIS OFF YOUR FACE.  NOON CANNOT RECORNIZE YOU AS SUCH.  A NIGHED MENSCH NIGHED MORE NIGHTINGLY.  NTIDE.  If I could see down hear I wouldn't need that damp lay day.  YIDS.  Sprigging in tones.  SPICKING IN TUNKS.  Ohh!  Brownstain!  Wadtch your wanterbees, whitey!  ATCHET WEIGHT YOUR INNER WAY BEES, IDEA WAY!  Charmed.  TW'ELVED OWERS OF ARKNESS.  I don't understand that.  SIT BACK, MISTER STRAYED LINE.  ISLE DE-LIVER YEAR FEAR TEAR -- GET ON DE BARKING BOAT, MAN!  Raft, raft, a light above; Juck and Him are livin' by craft.  DID YOU NOTICE, MAN -- HIS BACKPAG, OLD MOSES, HIS BAGPACK IS VILLIFIED WIDTH DIRT!  THERE ARE NO BOOGS IN THERE.  ONLY DIRGE, SOIL.  THINKS HE'S EX-CAVE AIDED FROM THIS SIDE OF CATHEDRAL BURIALS.  TORCHING THE STEEPLE.  Amiens.  Amiens.  HE'S ADD THE WAN DULL A GAIN.  Who?  AIR OF HELL, HOOD YOU THINK.  Clean king his fits.  WAS IS HE STYING?  I don't know.  LOOSEN CLOTHESLY.  Yes, Id ear it.  (RAISING HIS FIST IN THE AIR, REVOLUTIONARY RAG AROUND HIS HEAD, CRYING:)  The unity!  The Dawn!  The People!  (HE SINGKS OUT OF SLIGHT AGRIN.)  That man is deadlurous.  WHERE HE IS, A MILLION CARBUNCLES ARE FOAMING.  Hall's creed sures unlosed.   IN NOMINE PATRI, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI.  I'm in.  THE BOAT.  Swimmer with a brider aid, sure.  BURNT LAND, CASTOR.  GED IN DE WADER WAND DE LAMB'S BURDENING.  Yes.  (THIS IS A ZEGRETTI, IS IT NOT?)  A cycle logical eve annulation of a sporesman of heil evil.  ARKITECTURAL SPADES FROM ANGEL SENT TIMES TO THE PRE-DENTS.  Sense.  PUT HIM UNDER ARREST -- FOR IMPERSONAIDING A GENESIS.  What?  A GUINNESSES.  What?  A GENIUS, MAN -- THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING.  HE'S IMPERIOUSONATING A GRADE A MAN.  THAT DAMN IRISH MAN.  I CAN'T REMEMBER HIS NAME NOW.  HE WROTE THAT CONTROVERSIAL TOME, OLD SISSIES.  REMEMBER THAT ONE?  It was banned in New York, wadn't it?  THLASS THE WON.  'Cause it ended with the woman all spread out on the country hill, fonderling her molly -- iss thlass the wom?  I NEVER RED IT!  BUT I HERE ITS GOD.  SO, YOU PUT THE COUGHS ON THE MAN, WHILE HE'S LIEBING OVER THERE.  Where?  I don't see him.  OVER DARE.  UNDER THIS TAMED GLADS, WALL OF WONDER.  Under the crucifrightened cries?  YES, MAN.  IT'S AN ODOR.  It certainly is.  Dung -- or dung's broader.  YES, DUN IS BROADER.  HAS SOME JELLO IN IT.  Laugh, laugh, laugh.  All you do is laugh.  Brutes are baking bombs in basements in Brooklyn.  Bud, all you do is lad like a larkingstork.  They're laving at yude, too, mister mirth.  ARM YOUR FRAMERS.  CROSS YOUR CORDS, AMERICA.  It's warbination time, he's gonna lieb me.  I can see that staraway lug in his eye-eyes.  I can tell by the weight he's helldin, darkling, thad id wont be long before it's dying time.  JACK HOLLERIN' IN THE BLACKGROUND; RATES CURL SWEETNINGLY IN THE WHITEGROUND OF FORES.  Future bing block on wide; pads bing wheat on bog.  SEVERE ALLY.  Remember, Death weights like a black hole in the debut taunt of pissers, wantering to burn you into lace.  WHITE WITH HOLES IN IT.  Yids.  WISE WITH WHOLES IN IT.  Yads.  YIDS, YADS, BEES NUTS GOT IT.  YIDS, YADS, IN CUTE STRIPED COME.  YIDS, YADS, IN HIVES' DIFFERENT FLAVORS.  The flower begins to open her sewn-tight vessel of Pisces  to the stay men.  LURING US INTO LARVA.  Come plumb entry.  FOR THE ZEKE OF THE CHILLED WREN.  Stalking in tongs.  STORKING IN SONGS, DAR SOLO MAN.  IN VIV ID YOU ALL.  So, did you rest him?  WHO?  The name for the cross?  WHO?  We didn't see him.  He was all girlish siiting them in the fog, brerly bathing.  THE STINGK.  YES, THERE WAS A STING TO IT OLD.  Yes, goats have been coming around here lady lee.  Goats and gaggleheaded cures in the darts.  SOME ZING SMELTING LIKE DECAVING FISH.  Solomon was here.  NODE; NUT HYMN.  The poet's art so old, a smolting car crash.  CUBBING UP OWED UP THE GROUND.  Cents.  YES.  FOUND THEM MISELF.  A CUB BULL WARDERS FACING DOWN FIRST.  Oh, we seed.  We seed.  We'll jest be a groin' now.  Note I'm too loose.  I'll nail the capstan there.  As realgal as old Ahab wend he hailed the double loon of the mass that time, hovering to the takers of the wide wheel the cold coign of master of the dastard lands of wevil roods, dumb dying time's night, master of hail, not wanding to shake his knee.  Loose of hairian.  Loose of terre anon.  Wheel bead gong stone.  Pleads ford give us, out of this liver lunging leap.  OUT OF THE BODE, THEN.  ON TO THE FATHER SIDE.  ISN'T THAT WADE YOU'D CREEP?  Yes.  Me shore I wood.  FOR GET, THEN, AWADE FROM THE THOTH OF A REST.  THIS MAN HAS A LIDS OF THE LIVING ON HIS LIGHT.  Plato's cavelinear function.  CLOSE YOUR I'S -- AND THE LIDS IS SEEN. Darkness at the break of noon shadows even the silver spoon; the handmade blade, the child's balloon, eclipses both the Sun and Moon; to understand, your node, too soon, there is no sense in dying.  HARDEST TACK?  Pardon, Tracter.  HORUS TRACKED?  Is the man sweating at night; having trouble breeding.  PROSTATE, AINT HE?  He has.  A bull ate.  In his ribcage.  Even.  NO WONDER HE'S WETTING.  THE MAN HAS BEEN WOUND DEAD. Drunken men in a tub. Eleven plus 1.  One one one.  Plus the queen bee rater.  LET HIM SLEEP.  IT ONLY MAKES HIM SAD TO SEE US ARRANGED SO BLEEKLY LIKE BARDS IN A BROTHERN BATCH.  A brothel or a bother?  YES.  A BROTH HELL IN A BOTTLE.  And up us: down the hatchets.  SEALING DOUGH.  Ceiling dough.  ONE AND THIS AIM, DEAR ARCHER.  Sage, it wearies us.  WHAT DOES?  Your compulsion tool earn.  I SEE.  No.  You know.  That is what's worrying.  There are ables of two trees.  But you caint see the leaves for the brun chaise.  LIMP NODES.  LIMB NOTES.  THE BLUED BODES WELL WHEN THE BLUD FLOES.  Flat mass; seize Isis.  MAKE HER PLAID WHALE FOR AWL HERD CONNIFING.  Sharp as attack.  WHINING SHEE, THAT SHE IS.  Write form ululaes on the white sheets in very block ladders forum to read when he lice deucem bottled in the groind washing time.  READ THE RICE ON THE PISCES OF YOUR SHORT, STEMSTALESERVER.  In the bland con text all the latums hat brain shattered amd tobsbed intot the brackfish nide falling debly on the plain ahsencraft of grand m t pelium.  ADD HIMS TO BRISBANE NOGGLE NUCKLED ON A PENDIUM.  Rid you all of which craft?  IT IS NUT CERTAIN, PEDIMONT.  Dark nuts being what it is.  A PLACE INSIDE A SHELL TO HYDE.  Dog door bearing the antiseedent of its ped processor: God rood.  ELATUM TRANSUBSTANTUM.  Sorry heave-ho.  BOG MINISTER FOLDER.  POLYWHOREMULEAN ON HIS LAD'S BRANCH.  Dim of Theo's eerie lead.  Dim of Etho's leery debt.  Comtamdination of boldly Isle, Faye.  RUBBING YOUR STICK INTO THE SAND.  Brandy being served, sur.  EVE IN HERE, WHERE THE MOLE ACCUSES RIDE?  Eleison.  ELISION BECOMING THEED.  Crayed.  SMELL SOMETHING.  Wad?  WADI.  ARABA WADI.  Down to something pitch, pleiades.  YOUR WELL COMES.  Fashion eighting rib hymn.  EAT, ERNIE; TEA.  Tea tea.  MAMORIES OF HELM.  Add you to Katie's clam.  OF CURE: BOND SPECTRE.,  Sealing wags, inside of k d's boson.  SPIG WE HEAR OF K D'S CREAM.  Mamorials of hone.  DRING, KING OF WRYLY.  Lend you labitation to my renting heart. 

 

M

I

C

H

A

E

L

 

C

R

O

S

S

M

A

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

M

I

C

 

A

E

 

 

 

R

 

 

 

 

A

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I

 

H

A

E

 

 

 

 

 

S

S

M

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A

M

E

R

I

C

A

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

M

E

S

S

I

A

H

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

13

5

18

9

3

1

14

 

64

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13

5

19

19

9

1

8

 

74

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

138

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LETTERS NOT USED, NOT 'CHOSEN'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12

 

3

 

15

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15

 

15

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 1 + 5 =

 1 + 5 =

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

 

 

6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6

6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LED MOSES GIVE US HISS AB ROGUE GRADATIONS. 

 

Key 15 - THE DEVIL - Sol Acting Through Capricorn Upon Mercury, The Sovereignty and Beauty of Material Splendor.

 

Number 15 combines the 10 of completion with the 5 of humanity, or the idea of being "all too human," and illustrates the pitfalls faced by humanity when failing to use complete discrimination. The forces personified by the Devil are very real, for they are man's own creations and will disintegrate only when thought and belief are withdrawn from them. In Key 15, the man and woman are chained to the Devil they have erected on a pedestal. However, 6 is the ultimate of 15, and the Divine force must prevail. When the digits 1 and 5 are added together, making 6, this relates this card to Key 6, the Lovers.  In the first instance, the suggestion is thought and action brought down to their lowest level; in the second instance we see thought lifted to the plane of the superconscious.

 

Morph to sayed has he, drear

 

15

 

SUM (1 - 5).  SUM (1 - (3x3)) / 3. The

1   Mystic Number of Geburah.  The

2   Number of Abra-Melin Servitors

3   of Asmodee and Magot, and of

4   Paimon

Angel of 3rd Dec. Sagittarius        ABVHA

The month of Exodus and                          ABYB

  Passover

Steam, vapour                                         AYD

Pride; a carrying out;                                GAVH

   exaltation

Splendour, the Eighth Sephira                    HVD

Overflowing, abounding                ZVB

He who impels; to force                            ZCh

To hide                                                  ChBH

The Monogram of the Eternal                    YH

 

MUIR MOWER.  MOG AT MANDAUER.

 

   Thus (1) Kether = 1.

        (2) Chokmah = 1 + 2 = 3.

        (3) Binah = 1 + 2 + 3 = 6.

        (4) Chesed = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10.

        (5) Geburah = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 = 15.

        (6) Tiphereth = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 = 21.

        (7) Netzach = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 = 28.

        (8) Hod = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 = 36.

        (9) Yesod = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 = 45.

        (10) Malkuth = 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 = 55.

 

Gebron is Marms, is it nut?  TO ROW, TO ROW, TO CAB  TOUR INERT GADS WIDGE PRIDE SCRIBES THE MOWING FINE OMEN ONS ON.

 

                        PATH NUMBER

                                                        CARD TITLE

                                                                                     CARD NUMBER

                               11

                                                         THE FOOL

                                                                                            O

                               12

                                                        THE MAGUS

                                                                                            1

                               13

                                                    THE HIGH PRIESTESS

                                                                                            2

                               14

                                                       THE EMPRESS

                                                                                            3

                               15

                                           THE STAR

                                                                                            17

                               16

                                                     THE HEIROPHANT

                                                                                            5

                               17

                                                        THE LOVERS

                                                                                            6

                               18

                                                       THE CHARIOT

                                                                                            7

                               19

                                                         STRENGTH

                                                                                            11

                               20

                                                        THE HERMIT

                                                                                            9

                               21

                                                 THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE

                                                                                            10

                               22

                                                       ADJUSTMENT

                                                                                            8

                               23

                                                     THE HANGED MAN

                                                                                            12

                               24

                                                           DEATH

                                                                                            8

                               25

                                                            ART

                                                                                            14

                               26

                                                         THE DEVIL

                                                                     15

                               27

                                                   THE BLASTED TOWER

                                                                                            16

                               28

                                                       THE EMPEROR

                                                                                            4

                               29

                                                         THE MOON

                                                                                            18

                               30

                                                          THE SUN

                                                                                            19

                               31

                                                         THE AEON

                                                                                            20

                               32

                                                       THE UNIVERSE

                                                                                            21

 

The dead ville.  And then the Blasted Tower at 16.  Wed is heal drying to toll us?  DEVIL STAR MEADS THE BLASTED TOWER, THE HIEROPHANT.  Lucked in eber lad sings trebel.  BOOK, KAYE, UB AUNTIE ROUGES.  Dark Star; Stark Dar.  DAR EBB SHOLOM, SHAKE A SPEAR, SHAKE A SPEAR.  Pote a pock piggled paused prates pry oar tube praysing alldar.  SAG RAG FISH ALL LAMP OF SKIN.  I can geld you handy orifice on the dirty seabent fluor in thalat bulge bull dung uber thor.  SHH.  HE'S BIRDLY STORING, TROME.  Snoring is moral ides, de Shanko.  FIB TEEN AND FIB TEEN IS WAN PLUGS VIBE AND ONCE PLODS FIDE.  DWELVE.  Sex and sex.  Inner lucked and lubbing lucking, deux mad plumbping magdened roovels.  MAD AND WORMING FIDING BRIDLED ONES.  Sex and Sex.  SEX TEA SEX. 

 

In the Arabic Kaaba and Koran, their God Name, Allah, has a numeric value of 66, the number of Tiphareth (6) multiplied by Daath (11).

 

The numbras thoven aweighed.

 

15 = YE (Yod-Heh, the Monogram of the Eternal). Read AL,I:17, where it is stated by Nuit, "But ye are not so chosen." Not is LA (31).  Yod-Heh is the God Name of Chokmah, the Sphere of Stars, thus the word "ye" indicates the Stars of Our Lady Nuit. The word "not" indicates Nuit Herself. 15 is the Mystic number of Geburah, the Sphere of Mars, the Planet of Horus, so that "ye" are the children of Horus who are chosen in Nuit.

 

66 = NU+HAD. It is the mystic number of the Great Work (1--11). It is the number of US. It is the number of WILL (Vav-Lamed-Lamed). It is the number of SU, the Voice of the Eagle (=Horus). 66=HOOR (Horus) by way of the Tarot (H=Atu 17+O=Atu 15+O=Atu 15+R=Atu 19=66). 66=ALLH (Allah).

 

THESE ARE THE NUMB EARS THRONED AWADE.  IDS EAT NUT SOWED?  Hungry eye; starven ear.  CRAVEN EAR; CARVEN HEART.  N M E chew sing N M E.  HEIL AND LOAD.  Ridge and port.  MEND AND WADEMEN.  Nenuphars up ridged.  Phenobars down straddled.  DREAM ENDS IN THE PIT POSH.  DREAM ENDS IN THE PITCH, PONCHO PILLETTIA. Riven us in to bedlam, Ham.  DE-VILLE IN NUDE DAMNED STERN DAME.  Devil aches to kilt us dread.  SHAKES TO KILN US MUDMARKERS AND DREAMFORMUS INDO DWELLVE.  THE HANGED MAN.  Watt?  THE HANGED MAN?  Our friend, our savior?  HANGERS FOR AB'S PORTION. Watt?  Ids tark drowned hear.  I candle artly whore you wind all this dart in my ear.  HANKERS FOR AB'S PORTION.  Duds he.  SHE?  A bee.  A bee.  A bee makes of thee a sea of fertility, Nomen.  A SEA.  A SEA.  A SEA MAKES OF THEE A DE-SEIZED NAME OF AB-BROCADED VITALITY, MANNON.  We udder udder stand.  LED MOZES POSH OUR PISH, PISCUS DEAR.  Comet see nazens een, door common tsar.  STOP.  BOTTLE MENSE WHORES.  STOP.  I found this letter in the mud.  It was written to a man named Nigel Best.  A scholar of Finnegan's Wake who lived in New Zealand.

 

Nigel:

 

I've been living in Eugene, Oregon, for the last 20 years.  Eugene is one of the 'centers of matriarchal thought' in the US.  It's a spiritual supermarket here -- especially it was in the 1970's, but this residue is still lingering.  It is drying up, in fact.  It will last only one

generation -- the Winter generation.  Which cannot reproduce itself.

     The 1960's and 70's in America was a kind of microsmic experience of the 'matriarchal' life.  Men took dope, rebelled against the government (castrated and killed the father).  Women moved to the forefront.  We all had sex with anyone we wanted, took dope, indulged ourselves to the limit.  Now we have aids and drug addiction.  There was this dark side of the idea that none of us saw when we were passing in to it.

      Because work (materialism) was considered at best a necessary evil, self-absorption became our primary goal in life.  Oh, we called it something more noble -- the spiritual path -- and it was that too.  But it was also a desire to not be responsible for anything but our own pursuit of pleasure and avoidance of pain -- and to remain children for as long as possible.  Everything our parents did was wrong: having a family, building for the future, working hard.  Of course, by not doing that, the country sank into economic depression.  Depression is a feminine reality, afterall.  There was no work to be done.  Crime and addiction exploded in this country.  We never locked our door when I was a kid.  Now we have an epidemic of criminality.  This all sprang out of the anti-hero doctrine: if the society is evil, then breaking the law is good.  That's the whole anti-universe method.  Justification for anything one does through the proclamation that it is anti-establishment, revolutionary.  Like cancer cells, the anti-universe believes that to destroy is good and to create is bad.

     It was a descent into horror.  Oh, there was a good side.  The freedom of the individual was highlighted.  This was the good thing.  The buzz-word of communalism and communism was also very strong.  But it was a ruse.  My parents had more community naturally the way they live their lives than my generation every had -- although we talked a lot about this.  But we all saw what happened to communism.  The sun came up and showed it for what it was: a murderous sham (a shem?).

     I've already been through your idealized 'matriarchy'.  It's a very dark path.  Peace?  That was the ideology.  But not really.  Perhaps that is true in the sense of the externalized reality.  We sang 'give peace a chance' and withdrew from Vietnam.  But the war was just transferred internally. Crime went up.  The struggle between dark and light became internalized.  Look at Russia, China, Cambodia, Vietnam: millions murdered in the name of the new system, which, even though you deny it, was a form of matriarchy.  The darkness having its chance to rule.  The bottom on top.  The expression that Lucifer rebelled and declared that he would rather rule hell than serve in heaven -- well that is what a matriarchy is: the moon ruling in hell.

     America experienced a rebirth in the late 1980's.  The emphasis has changed here from "if it feels good do it" to something closer to "take responsibility for your own actions".  Do it -- don't talk about it.

     The whole 'feeling cult' of the 1970's and early 1980's here turned out to be a pretty dismal reality.  It may have looked good when it was born; but it was an ugly beast when it came to fruition.

      FW is really a story of a man buried underground and trying to find his way back to the surface of the earth, back to the light.  'Matriarchy' is when the man gets killed and buried -- and then claws his way back up out of the dirt and the sediment trying to find life again.  It's very noble in fact, this struggle.  Those who choose to stay in the anti-universe, who refuse to be born, to come in to the light, are, like Lucifer, choosing to be king over the mud instead of standing in the light and air of spring.

     Jesus (any sun hero in fact, as an emblem of the soul) stands in between God and man.  He shows the man the way out of the underworld of darkness.  In his other aspect Jesus is Michael the Archangel -- because at the same time Jesus is saving men who have been buried he is also casting Lucifer out of his heaven.  He does each of these feats by merely being whole -- by showing each of other side of their vision, the side they haven't been seeing.  To the one who has been seeing only light, he shows the darkness; to the one who has been seeing only darkness, he shows the light.

     MJC

 

HOW MUCH OF THAT IS DOWN HERE?  What?  PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE.  Hell of it, I fear.  IS THAT THE CROSSMANN DOCTRINE, THEN?  Yes, as we know it.  THERE IS NO MENTION OF THE MONSTER --APEP, XCUSE -- HE HAD TO SLAYT, PRIOR TO RE-BIRDTH.  For Hell snakes, we all know about that.  OR WIDGES HE HELD TO BURN.  I believe he burnished no whichs.  THAT IS A COMMON BELIEF.  Do you have evedense then?  I HAVE OVID ANTS I WOULD LIKE TO CRALL FOR THE STANKED.  Weary water whipped a whit of wiggled wenders.  Bring us back to the lory light.  Bring us back to the lucid landshape.

 

                                                             

 

FORM THE TRIANGLE COMES THE DOUBLE TRIANGLE, THE SONG OF SOLOMON, OHMBLEMATIC OF THE DUAL VORTICES, SPIRIT AND MATTER, ONE ROUSING AND ONE PHALLING.  AND FORM THE DUAL TRIED ANGEL COMES THE HAG SAD, THE SEX-SIDED PILLAR OF STAGTURE, STEMBILITY AND BERBER8UAL POWDER.  POWDER IN THE SENSE OF POWDER.  AMEN.  Grog to eat; and More Grog to eight.  YANTRA, MANTRA, MANDALA, MOUSE.  The hexagram star is an ancient symbol appearing in worldwide religion and myth.  It is sometimes called the Seal of Solomon (which Moslom legend recounts him using to capture magically djinn, genie or nature spirits).  As the revered symbol of the Jews, it is called the 'Shield of David'.  To the Hindus, it is called the 'Mark of Vishnu'.  In some traditions, the hexad star is a great self of initiates, signifying rising aspiration from below and the descent of grace from above. 

 

                                               

 

 

Escher, turn.  Escher, turn.  Escher, mesher, monster ball.  TURN.  The circle constructed within the hexagram star has a circumfernce exactly half that of the larger outer circle.  MAGROCOSM; MIKECROCOSM.  Migrantcosmos: turn, turn, turn again.  TERN.  SCARAB MEO.

 

                                               

 

The hexagon holds a secret within its three distances.  (1) The length of its side, equal of its own radius; (2) its diagonal, twice the radius; and (3) the distance between alternate corners (root three [= 1.732] times the radius).  These three lengths form the sides of a right triangle having sides one, two and root three within the hexagon.  These are the numbers associated with the circle, the line and the triangle.  A hexagon makes visible the relationships between the archetypal principles of Monad, Dyad, and Triad.

 

                                               

 

NATURE USES THE MOST EFFICIENT MEANS OF PACKAGING, AS SEEN IN ATOMIC CLUSTERS, OR MOLECULES.  Hexagonal close-packing.  NATURE DOES NOT WASTE SPACE.  Hexagonal tessellations.  LET THE MAN SPEAK.  Reading in the mud.  YES.  While pentagon symmetry is found only in living structures, the Hexad manifest naturally in both living and non-living forms.  All natural forms are forces made visible.  When we encounter six-sided, six-angled or six-pointed crystals, plants or animals, we know that the Hexad is underlying an efficient structure-function-order.    Its three-corner, 120-degree joints and close-packing arrangement ensure an efficiency of materials, time, energy and strength.  The tessellating hexagonal pattern in common in the realm of molecules and crystals.  Molecules typically occupy 2/3 to 3/4 of the space in crystals.  The rest is empty space.  A close-packed arrangement uses minimum space and best balances the attractive and repulsive forces to achieve the minimal total expenditure of energy.  A knowledge of archetypal geometric patterns is the basis for the modern science of crystal engineering, the fabrication of molecular crystals with unusual optical, electronic and magnetic properties.  ATOMS CAN"T BE SEEN -- BUT THEIR EFFECTS, THEIR ENGRAVINGS, CAN BE SEEN.  Look at bubbles and snowflakes and quartz crystals.  THERE IS MORE.  The molecular structure of wood cellulose is a hexagonal web, seen on a lager scale as water-net algae (hydrodietyon).  The star coral configures a hexagonal skeleton; and tube coral grow by leaving their cylindrival skeletons packed togetehr in hexagonal groups.  Notice the same flexible hexagonal tiling in the arrangment of scales on a fish or in the skin of a reptile, like the chain-mail net of knights' armor.  A tortoiseshell, with its hexagonal plates, also takes the shape of minimum energy and miximum strength.  In the human body, individual cells join in a close-packed hexagonal pattern to act in concert.  The so-called striped muscle that occurs throughout our bodies in hexagonally packed and available for voluntary movement.  The fishing net pattern recurs in human lung alveoli, maximizing the passageways for oxygen carbon-dioxide transfer in each of our breaths.  ALL TRUE INSECTS HAVE 6 LEGS. 

 

                                   

 

 

The graphite in pencils in made not of lead but carbon, the same element that comprises diamonds.  But diamonds have tetrahedral architecture, making them nearly indestructible.  Graphite crystals grow in hexagonal sheets that slide off the pencil as we write.  OSMOSIS CRETANIUM.  Speaking of what?

 

 

HAVE YOU NOTICED HOW CROSSMANN HAS LOST HIS OWN VOICE?  I HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN HIM YAWN IN A DAMNED SYGNO PERIOD OF MOVEMENT.  Warrant?  NO WORDS FROM HIM, THE MAN IN THE MONSTER BALL.  IF I DIDN'T KNOW BETTER, I'D SWEAR SOMEONE HAD WIRED UP HIS JAW.  And stuffed it full of spices.  HIS SKULL OF SIN OF MINT.  AND LUCK OF RICE.  I don't volley.  PEPPER FLINT.  What?  OREGON ONO, THE GIRL IN THE BLACK PEPPER SUIT.  Stuff it in the space where his brand used to be.  NARCOLEPTIC, IN A PEPTIC TEST DEMONIAL.  OregonAsian girl dressed up in a black paper suit.  YES.  From someone's dreams.  BENZINE RINGS.  Five rings; or six rings.  Csix Hsix.  YES.  I SEE.  Dime to sober up, boys.  A FEW MORE TROPS ALONE.  IS ALL.  A little dabble dude,  you.  MOLECULAR CHEMISTS AND BILOOGISTS FIND THEM IN INNUMERABLE FAMILIAR SUBSTANCES INCUDING STEROIDS (CORTISONE AND THE MALE AND FEMALE HORMONES, TESTOSTERONE AND ESTROGEN), CHOLESTEROL, BENZENE, TNT, VITAMINS C AND D, URANIUM HEXAFLUORIDE (NUCLEAR FUEL), ASPIRIN, SUGAR, THE ANTIBIIOTIC TERRAMYCIN AND PENCIL GRAPHITE.  Not to mention, honeybees and their honeycomb.  MADAME BEE KNOWS ALL ABOUT THIS.  Shh.  Show some respect.  TELL THEM WHAT OLD PAPYRUS, THE EGYPTIAN, HAD TO STAY.  The poop iris of Ani.  PAP'S PUSS CRIMED OUT LOUSE: There being, then, three figures which of themselves can fill up space around a point...the trinagle, square and the hexagon -- the bees have wisely selected for the structure that which contains the most angles, suspecting indeed that it could hold more honey than the other tube.  THE OTHER TWO, FRIEND.  Yes.  The light is dim out here.  It's quite hard the read rite.  HONEYBEES, ONE OF THE VERY FEW DOMESTICATED INSECTS (SILKWORMS ARE ANOTHER), BUILD THEIR HONEYCOMBS IN ALTERNATING WAX HEXAGONAL TIERS -- LIKE A WAX CRYSTAL.  HORNETS AND WASPS ALSO BUILD HEXAGONAL NESTS BUT OUT OF MUD OR A PAPERLIKE SUBSTANCE.  Don't you underestand, your honor!  He is stealing words out of others' mouths because his own mouth has been bound a gagged!  BROWNED AND GORGED?  Yes.  EATING FURIOUSLY.  What?  LOOK AT HIM SO SILENT THERE, QUIET, AS IF PARALYZED BY SOME POTENT SCORPION STING.  EATING FURIOUSLY INSIDE.  TRYING TO RE-BUILD HIS BODY.  I don't undstand you.  TO YOUR OWN BENEFIT, SIR.  YOU'RE DOWNWIND, AFTERALL.  A bit of humor?  WHEN YOU STAND UNDER SOMEONE LIKE THAT, YOU SHOULD BE WEARING A RAINCOAT.  Is that a sicksexual joke?  CONDOMINIUMS DON'T LIE.  Dogs isling down with dogs.  WHY ARE WE DIGGING HERE ANYWAY?  Wheel half two.  WHAT?  Is someone buried here?  WHEEL ARE?  Who?  WHEEL AWL R.  What?  HE COULD USE A NEW SUIT OF CLODTHES.  LOOK AT HIM THERE.  ALL SIN AND BONDS -- IN A DAMPAGED ARMY GOAT NO LESS.  BLOOD ON HIS ARMANI LIKE SOME SAG RISIDUAL EMINENT FROM THE DAZE.  He's a misfit if every I sewed one.  THE ANTI-HERO SUITS HIMSELF.  THE HERO, BY CONTRA DANCE DICK STINK SHUN, GETS HIS HER SUIT FROM THE TAILOR.  The tailor clearly works by Day.  As the sailor works by Night.  TATUG THE DAY LORD?  What?  TATUG THE TAIL LURID?  No, Tatug the Sailward, weaving a dream out of the refleshmeat of the seasilt and fleets.  MOPING DICK.  TROLLN ALWAYS INTO THE C.  Norman Noman Nomen Norton.  MAILER.  What is his indemnity anyway?  HERE LIE THE REFRAINS OF POETETIC HER RED DICK: SOME VOTE HIM VIKE, SOME SMOTE HIM MIKE, SOME DUB HIM LLYN AND PHIN WHILE OTHERS HAIL HIM LUG BUG DAN LOP, LEX, LAX, GUNNE OR GUINN.  SOME APT HIM ARTH, SOME BAPT HIM BARTH, COLL, NOLL, SOLL, WILL, WHEEL.  WALL STREET WHIG EVEN -- BUT I PIERCE HIM PUSSY O'REALLY, ELSE HE'S GILLED BY NONAME ATE ALL.  END DEATH QUOTE.  Yessiduum.  WHAT?  No responses?  None?  WHO IS MIKE THE TYKE?  Yes.  And.  WHO IS HIS BRITTLER, HIS DARK-LIGHT BROTH EAR, FRIEND OF CRASHTINEEDOOR AND OF OLD GERMMAN HEILDOOR DUE -- NOMEN SIE WILL?  Yes -- correct -- for 300 points.  Will and Might.  Songs standing under the air farter, Jacob, underwhom they plot the hair rebeldom.  THAND WAS LONG AGO, WIT ICE WIDE SHUNT.  What is a little time beat twain amenities and Lenin lights?  YES, MIKE IS THE LIGHT-DARK BROODER, FRIEND OF JUICE AND FIEND OF JOYS.  Mitigator of the MI D.  MIGHTY GATOR, YOU MEAN?  Hollow victory, friend.  Too little too late.  WHAT TIME IS IT, ANYWAY?  Looking for a new blade of flesh to be rewarped in -- bier wagger.  BOUNDY IN HIS CHAIR LIKE THAT, WITH HIS MOUTH HAGGED WITH RAGES.  HOW COULD SHE WANT HIM SO HELMLESS LIKE THAT?  SHE'S A DECENT WOMAN.  WHAT WAS THAT ALL, ABBOTT?  Decent but not Day Sent.  PROTECTING HER CUBLETS, PAIN KNOWIT THAT SHE IS.  Cublets or pan thors?  WELCH WOOD EAT BEATS?  Does Edomology take us to Troth then, Phlegmarian?  DOWN IN THE ROOT SEQUENCE -- BEFORE THE BLOOD BECAME MUDMAD MARIONETTE.  Who are these kwings of Edom anyshow?  BEFORE THE BALL LANCE, OLD MOYLE.  BEFORE THE BAIL ANTS OUDBALLOTED THE ODD DAISYOUS TERM MITES.   How many atomements do we need to see to stand beneath our stone soberano in a raincoat?  WET A WAY TO PUD IT.  Wine molecule, tune molecule, tree molecule, word.   ENFANTO LIBRANTO.  Toemen.  COUNTING DIGITS WITH MELTING MIDGET WIDGET WINGERS, FAYE.  Howl lungs duel add sessions enfurl ladst.  SO FAR AWAY IST IT NOW.  Which?  THAT FIRST NOTE SNUG BY ANDREAS KOHL IM PERGOLESI'S STABAT MATER.  Careful.  He has ___ries the re___ him of her, you know.  The music stirs him up, an old paint car full of tar.  DO YOU MEAN?  Don't speak her name!  Let him sleep!  PUT MOISHE IN A MUSTACHE; MAKE HIM SPEAK WITH A FRENCH SAGSCENT, PURSESWEEPRAD, SALIVATORY DOLLY -- THIS IS LOOSE, DOLLY.  INT'S SEWN ICE TOOTH FINED YOUR BACK WEIRD YOU'D BELONGED.  Speaking with a pinch of salt, a pinch of sodium, a modicum of mercury, a mastadon of sulphur.  DEADPANNING.  Wholly that his hiss.  DRAG ON HIS TAIL AND HE'D TELL A TALE OF A TEALTAILED TALL TALENTED TALISMANNED TANGENTIALLY TONED TIGER TOMBED FOR A TIME BUT TIGHT TO TURN A TUSCAN INTO A TURK, A TICED ONE INTO A TERSE ONE.  A viced one into a versed one.  CAPITAL!  PUNISHMENT!  GIVE THE MAN A CHAIR!  He already has two feet in thing maid round, sir.  PUNCTUOUS PIE PLATE, PUNCTUOUS PIE PLATE, HAVE YOU ANY FOOL, HAVE YOU ANY GHOUL.  Yes, sure; yes, sure; three hags' full.  DULL BULL, DULL BULL, TOY ILL AND TRUE BILL.  Witch I may, witch I might, sleep with Let Sleeping Roads lie tonight.  EDOM SCHOOL, EDOM ROAD.  The first was sexless, or a-sexual, and was quickly destroyed.  The next was bi-sexual, and quickly destroyed itself.  Because that was its nature.  DESTROYED BY CONFUSION.  A voids strafing the deep darp mule lecular nigh, coming off from the rune of the building: THE UNITY!  THE DAWN!  THE PEOPLE!  Who was that?  That voice!  So deep and black -- like mud.  A NAM THROWS HIS VOIDS, EFFECTING WALL DOOR WIND CHILL, IMPLEADING: THE BODY DISCOVERED IN THE THAMES RIVER ON SEPTEMBER 21 OF LAST YEAR, THE AUTUMN EQUINOX, RAISED ALARM BELLS FRM THE START.  IT BELONGED TO A BOY, AGED 5 TO 7 YEARS OLD, OF AFRO-CARIBBEAN DESCENT; AND THE BODY WAS MISSING ITS HEAD, ARMS AND LEGS.  Stop.  TWO WEEKS LATER, PLOICE FOUND SEVEN HALF-BURNED CANDLES WRAPPED INA  WHITE SHEET WASHED UP ON THE SOUTHERN SHORE OF THE THAMES.  THE NAME ADEKOYE JO FOLA ADEOYE WAS WRITTEN ON THE SHEET AND THE NAME FOLA ADEOYE WAS INCRIBED ON THE CANDLES.  Please stop.  THE NAMES ARE NIGERIAN, COMMON TO THE YORUBA PEOPLE, POLICE EXPERTS SAID; BUT THEY HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO TRACE THEM TO ANYONE IN LONDON'S VAST AFRICAN EXPATRIATE COMMUNICATE.  Please stop, I say.  THIS MONTH, A SOUTH AFRICAN EXPERT IN RITUALISTIC KILLINGS PERFORMED A SECOND AUTOPSY ON THE BODY OF THE BOY, AND PRONOUNCED WHAT MANY PEOPLE HAD FEARED.  THE DISCOVERY OF THE BODY, THE NATURE OF THE WOUNDS, AND THE WAY THE BOY WAS KILLED 'ARE CONSISTENT WITH THOSE OF A RITUAL HOMICIDE AS PRACITICED IN AFRICA,' SAID DOCTOR HENDRIK SCHOLTZ.  Stop.  IN THE DEEB DEEB DARC OF A DEEB DEEB NIGHD DE MANNER COMES FACE-DE-FACE TO THE DARCEST DEEBEST DEPRIBER.  If you're impotent, cut off the young man's dick and eat it.  You will be virile again.  If you have aids, rape a three-month old virgin -- and you'll be cured.  STOP.  The number of pages in FW, as you know, is 628. 628 is the number of whole units assigned to express the irrational relationship between the circumference of  a circle and its diameter. (The relation is usually given in decimalized form, unity [1] being the diameter, and 6.28 [twice pi] then being the circumference, but to express the same thing in whole units, one must assign the value 100 to the diameter, which yields the circumference at 628 units -- this also means that the number of leaves, as opposed to pages, in the Wake is 314, the whole number form of pi itself).  628 IN HEBREW GEMATRIA IS THE NUMBER OF THE WORDS LIGHT AND BLESSINGS.  The Light that grows from the dark circle, the Irrational.  Dawn.  Phallus Diametrus.  The Wand widwitch he wanishes de waderweeds.  NOXIOUS.  The bringerupper of Light.  WE NEED TO GET OUR FRIEND A NEW SET OF CLOTHES.  FIRST THING WE DO WHEN THE SUN COMES UP.  Here, have another drink.  GEE, I'M ATRIA.  Tag him oder dune the One Libe Once Sued Clodthing Stir.  Yes, sir.  We'b gong de mage him a new man again.  Pud a star on his fourheads, one for eag dire diction.  PASS THE CONCH, SIR.  I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK.  Go ahead, Piggy.  I'M JUST NOT SURE, SIR, WHY WE NEED TO SIT THROUGH ALL THIS NONSENSE ABOUT EDOMS AND ATOMS AND ETYMS.  I LIKE THE PIGSURES, OF COURSE, BUT ALL THIS TALK OF TETRAHEDRAL HOLES AND S-ATOMS ONLY MAKES ME MISS MY SISTERS.  I THINK, THE LEAST WE CAN DO, GIVEN WE ARE MAROONED HERE ON THIS S-ISLAND, FAR FROM HUMAN CONJUNCTIONS AND CONVICTION -- THE LEAST WE CAN DO, IN OUR VERY PRIVATE WASTELAND, IS TO BE FREE FROM THE PERILOUS CLASSROOM AND FROM THE LIKES OF SWINEBURNE AND THAT FRENCH FELLOW WITH HIS CHEMICAL XTRAVAGANZAS WHICH ARE DOING NOTHING FOR US OUT HERE IN THIS PIGSTY.  Well said.  SHOW THE PUNCTURES; BUT HIDE THE MAN.  BIND THE MAN; DON'T LET HIM SPIG.  This is a debocracy, mob.  We gay'nt make a gain in freedman by debriving the mant of his beach.  JUST PLUG YOUR DEARS, PIGGY.  YOU WON'T SQUEAL A DING.  What this city must have been like when people were actually living here.  It must have been a wonder.  Before the catastrophe, that is.  BEFORE THE WOILED SANK UNDER WATER.  Before the Edomites moved to Cleaveland.  OH, HO, HO.  WHAT A TREASURE!  YOUR WIT IS POSITIVELY....!  The Unity!  The Dawn!  The People!  OH OH. SO FAR REMORSE HAS LET HIM BE HIND.  Knit wit.  HE SHOULD BE DRINKING DISTILLED CORAN WITH HIS FRIENDS DOWN AT THE GREEN MILL.  What?  SCURRILOUS CREATURE!  I SWEAR, IF I HAD A GUN, I'D TAKE THAT FARMER ACE OUT BEHIND THE CATHEDRAL AND PUT A LEAD POINT BEHIND HIS EAR AT A VERY GREAT VELOCITY.  Calm yourself, Switcher.  He's just goddin on your nevers is all.  Here, have another shot.  Calm you down.  KILL JEWS AND AMERICANS WHEREVER YOU FIND THEM!  What!  That bugger!  PUT YOU HANDS OVER YOUR EARS!  HE'LL GET TIRED AND GO AWAY!  DON'T GET ALL WORKED UP NOW!  HE'S HARMLESS!  HE'S A KIND OF BAD GHOST WE JUST HAVE TO IGNORE!  Be wary of Moses when he gets up on his moutain.  DO WE HAVE TO LEARN THIS STUFFING?  WE KNOW GOD WORKS FROM GEOMETRY OUT INTO FUNCTION.  From the geo-mother into his children.  (IF I"D HAVE KNOWN I"D HAVE TO ENDURE THIS, I WOULD HAVE BEEN A BIOLOGY MAJOR!)  E-Gad, what is that smell!  THE SMELL OF DEATH SURROUNDS YOU.  The anti-fluorite Li2S structure, like zinc-blende ZnS, consists of cubic close packed anions S, but now all of the tetrahedral holes are occupied - by small Li cations. When the cations are larger, such as those of calcium, the more common ¦CaF2 fluorite structure  is favoured, with the sites of the cations (blue) and anions (yellow) interchanged.

 

                                               

 

WHISKEY BOTTLE, A BRAND NEW CAR.  OAK TREE YOU"RE IN MY WAY.  Shh.  WAD?  The man is trying to speak.  OH.  The fluorite structure is favoured when the cations are so big that they need eight anions to cover them.  The TiO2 rutile or cassiterite (SnO2) structure is adopted by quadri-valent metals or di-valent metal fluorides, such as MnF2. Here the blue Ti cations are in octahedral holes between the red oxygen anions, which is readily seen when we draw their co-ordination octahedrae.

 

                                               

 

Actually, the cation-anion distances are not all quite equal, two being a little longer than the other four. The SnO2 cassiterite co-ordination octahedrae are then slightly stretched along one axis. Such elongated octahedrae are relatively common for di-valent and quadri-valent cations.

 

                                               

 

Returning to zinc-blende, we note that this tetrahedrally coordinated FCC structure takes a particularly simple form when there is only one kind of atom - it is the structure adopted by two of the most common elements, silicon and carbon, and is known as the diamond structure (there will be more on this later). Slide please.  PAINT FASTER!  PAINT FASTER!

 

                                               

 

Many mineral structures are based on variations of the diamond or silicon structure. For example, if we replace the silicon atoms (Si) by silicon oxide units (SiO4) they pack together in a similar way to form the mineral cristobalite SiO2. We see that the SiO4 units are tetrahedrae, and that these tetrahedrae are connected by all corners in cristobalite to form a relatively dense silica structure (more on this later also).

 

                                               

 

But what happens when the second atoms are too small for the holes between the larger atoms? And what happens when we have more than two kinds of atoms ? Let's look at one of the most common and most important mineral structures, that of perovskite.  I WAS AFRAID OF THIS.  Afraid of what?  I WAS AFRAID THAT DAMN JEW WOULD GET THE CONCH.  Just relax.  It's better than listing toward that koranic miller in the zoo over there.  ARE THOSE OUR ONLY TWO CHOICES?  Debs.  THE ANGEL OF DARKNESS IS UPON YOU.  THEY STUCK A NEEDLE IN YOUR ARM.  SO TAKE ANOTHER TOKE; HAVE A BLOW FOR YOUR NOSE.  ONE MORE DRINK, FOOL, WILL DROWN YOU.  Ooooh that smell!  CAN'T YOU SMELL THAT SMELL!  Oooh that smell!  THE SMELL OF DEATH SURROUNDS YOU!  Please, gentlemen. This is not a bar-room, is it?  NO, MISTER SCHAEFFER.  Now, where were we.  (MISTER SHAVER CUTS HIS NAVAL WHEN HE TRIES TO SHAVE HIS BRAIN.)   Perovskites such as BaTiO3 with formula ABX3 are a common type of mineral structure, and include many interesting materials such as ferro-electrics and superconductors. The large blue A-cations and red X-anions, often oxygen, are cubic close-packed, with the smaller B-cations occupying the octahedral holes between the X-anions. This is typical of a structure that is best understood by drawing the BX3 octahedra enclosing the B-cation.  Slide please.

 

                                               

 

SLIDES: FASTER, FASTER!  You, too, shall be cursed, sir.  To wander the earth.  Cursed to help me carry my pallette as ice tumbles.  YOU SPEAK TOO FAST, SIR.  SPEAK LESS; PAINT FASTER.   The stability of the structure depends on the relative ionic radii: if the cations are too small for close packing with the oxygens, they can be displaced slightly. Since these ions carry electrical charges, such displacements can result in a net electric dipole moment (opposite charges seperated by a small distance). The material is said to be a ferro-electric by analogy with a ferro-magnet which contains magnetic dipoles.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

IN AND OUT.  What?  LOOK AT MELODY OVER THERE.  SITTING WITH MICHELLE.  THEY'RE BOTH WET BETWEEN THEIR LEGS -- YOU CAN BET ON THAT.  Get out of here.  BET YOU A BUCK!     How are we gonna know.  WHEN THEY GET UP, WE'LL GO DOWN AND TOUCH THEIR CHAIRS -- SEE IF THE WOOD IS DRY.  Maybe the wood will be prespiring -- so close to the promised land.  RIGHT.  Gentlemen -- I don't want to have to say it again!  YES.  SORRY, MISTER SLAVER.  You may not think this will matter much to you, gentlemen.  But later in life you will be questioned about this information I'm providing today.  And if you pass the test, you'll get a wonderful wife and a fine house out in either Grover's Corners or Gleneden Beach -- whichever you prefer.  Perhaps even Winnetka, Illinois.  If you don't pass, you'll end up like that sadsack Tom Waits: 'a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace.'  Living without a fantasy; living by yourself.  I'LL TAKE THE SUITCASE CASE STUDY, I GUESS!  No you don't, Mike the Tyke says.  You don't want the dark death house of loneliness and bitter bitters.  You don't want to live in the dark.  YES, I DO, WILL THE PILL SAYS.  HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE FOR EVER IN THAT PLACE.  He is pointing to a mound, an underground bunker.  WELL, THAT IS A GRAVE.  THAT IS A MOUND, A WOMB.  YOU ARE AFRAID TO LEAVE YOUR MOTHER'S WOMB.  Michelle jacked me off last night at the drive-in.  I DON'T NEED TO HEAR THAT.  You can't believe how juicy her pussy is!  WELL, SHE'S STUDENT-BODY PRESIDENT.  WHAT WOULD ONE EXPECT?  Shh.  He's looking.  (YES, MISTER SCABEE.)   At high temperature, the small green B-cations can "rattle around" in the larger holes between oxygen, maintaining cubic symmetry. The static displacement only occurs when the structure is cooled below a certain transition temperature. We have illustrated a dispacement along the z-axis, resulting in tetragonal symmetry (z remains a 4-fold symmetry axis), but at still lower temperatures the symmetry can be lowered further by additional displacements along the x- and y-axes. We have a dynamic 3D-drawing of this ferro-electric transition.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

YOUR HAND UP HER DRESS.  TALK ABOUT RATTLING AROUND IN LARGER HOLES.  CHECK OUT COLLEEN NEALON.  (HEY, PIGGY: GET A LOAD OF SHELLEY'S TITS.  HER NIPPLES MUST BE STICKING OUT AT LEAST AN INCH!)  Shh.  HAND-JOB, LOLLY-BOB.  HAND-JOB, BODY-LOB.  Mister Crossmann!  Please!  Am I going to have to send you to Principal Mafoney's office.  (PRINCIPAL HIMMELMANN.)  You may be a big quarterback on the football team, but you are not the quarterback in my classroom, sir!  SORRY, MISTER SHATTNER.   An alternative type of structural transition, called anti-ferroelectric, is also common in perovskites. If the A-cation is too large for close packing, the X-cations can be displaced instead. But since the BX6 octahedrae are relatively rigid units connected at their apexes, they twist together as in NaNbO3.  Again, we have a dynamic 3D-drawing of this anti-ferroelectric transition. There is no net dipole moment in such anti-ferroelectric structures. Again, as the temperature is lowered, a succession of transitions can occur, with the ctahedrae twisting around different axes.  Ferro-electric and other di-electric materials have important applications as sensors, since a physical change in the dimensions of the material is accompanied by an electric field. But so far we have concentrated on bonding between electrically charged ions.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

(HE'S SAFE!  ELIO CHACON SLIDES INTO HOME PLATE AHEAD OF BERRA'S TAG!)  What about the strong covalent bonding between atoms that is responsible for the strength of diamonds?  What about covalent bonding?  Blood is thicker than water, and other types of bonding, such as covalent bonding, are stronger than ionic bonding. After all, if you drop some ionically bonded salt into water you just end up with salty water: the positive and negative charges on the sodium and choride atoms are surrounded by water molecules which break the ionic bonding. Drop a diamond into water, and it remains a diamond, because it has covalent bonding between its carbon atoms. (But diamond is not "forever", and like other forms of carbon can be burned in a very hot fire!).   (NOW THEY CALL YOU PRINCE CHARMING.  CAN'T SPEAK A WORD WHEN YOU'RE FULL OF 'LUDES.  SAY YOU'LL BE ALL RIGHT COME TOMORROW -- BUT TOMORROW MIGHT NOT BE HERE FOR YOU.  Ooooh ooooh that smell!  CAN"T YOU SMELL THAT SMELL!  Ooooh ooooh that smell!  THE SMELL OF DEATH'S AROUND YOU.)  (Yeah, Fat Boy and the Wild Ones.)  (FAT BOY WAS AN ATOM BOMB, WASN'T IT?)  Look at her rubbing her sweet-smelling butt on the chair: Ava La Dick.  OOOOOH, THAT SMELL.  Can't you smell that smell.  OOOOH THAT SMELL.  Smells like fish, but it surely tastes like knish.  )OH, SMELL THAT SMELL.  It's the smell of alluvial heaven; perfume worn in the midnight garden of glue and evanescent lilac.  DREAM, IF YOU BUTT WILL, OF THE ARDENT JADE INSIDE HEER CONDOMINIUM.)   The covalent bonding in diamond consists of electrons that are intimately shared between the carbon atoms. We already saw that these strong covalent bonds are usually represented by drawing them as sticks between the atoms.  Diamond is important because it is the hardest substance known, and can be used for making sharp cutting tools, such as used in drilling for oil. Other important materials, such as silicon and germanium used for computer chips also have the diamond structure.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

WE'VE ALREADY SEEN THAT ONE, MISTER SNUFFER.  WHAT IS THIS -- A RUBE?  ARE YOU TRYING TO CHECK TO SEE IF WE'RE PAYING ATTENTION?  Indeed, I was, Mister Crossmann.  And you clearly passed the test.  (To an unseen presence: Write down an A for the star quarterback!)  There is a common alternative to diamond for the structure of carbon-graphite. The carbon atoms in graphite are also strongly joined by covalent bonds, but only within a plane, unlike the 3D network of bonds in diamond.  These planes of carbon atoms simply stack together one on top of the other, with only very weak forces between them. The planes of carbon atoms can then easily slip over each other, and graphite is therefore an important lubricant! Talcum powder feels smooth for similar reasons. Slide.

 

                                               

 

SLIDE YOUR HANDS OVER THOSE BIG MEMORIES, CLYDE.  THEY'RE SO CLOSE, INSIDE THAT SWEATER, SO RIPE AND FIRM.  IT'S CHARLENE GILLEY; I CAN ALMOST TASTE THEM.  DOWN BY THE RIVER, SOME DARK EVERGLADE NIGHT; CHERRY VODKA ON HER BREATH.  (Date ream.  Date rhapsody.)  SHH.  WE'LL BE TESTED ON THIS LATER IN LIFE.  IF YOU FAIL THIS CLASS, MISTER TALKER, YOU"LL HAVE TO TAKE IT AGAIN.  (Mi Wing is serious.)  SHH.  (He's never noticed she had such a pretty face; and a body.)  SHH.  (SMILING).  Drawn like this, diamond and graphite look very different, and of course so they are.  But if we look down the cube body-diagonal direction of diamond, which is perpendicular to the planes of packing, we see the trigonal symmetry, which gives a somewhat different picture.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

ON OVER AND SAY HELLO, IRENE.  Who?  IRENE.  Don't mention that name!  NO, NOT THAT ONE!  IRENE NEWMAN -- YOU REMEMBER IRENE?  I don't want to talk about it.  SHE WAS THE FIRST GIRL YOU LOVED.  AND I STOLE HER AWAY FROM YOU.  She didn't love you!  BUT SHE LIKED ME MORE THAN SHE LIKED YOU.  AND YOU NEVER FORGAVE ME FOR IT.  I never forgave her.  For not seeing how my love was pure.  WOMEN DON'T CARE ABOUT PURE LOVE.  WOMEN WANT THE MEATWAGON, HARD AND ANGRY, THE BREAKING DOWN OF WALLS.  AND THAT'S THE DEVIL'S OWN TRUTH. NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.  YOU WERE TOO DARK.  YOU WERE ALWAYS HIDDEN IN THE BACKGROUND.  WHICH IS WHERE I PUT YOU, HOPING YOU'D BE SAFE.  Gentlemen.  Are we having a private lesson today?  NO, MISTER HEWAT.  I'M JUST TRYING TO GET MY BROTHER TO DRAW THAT LAST SLIDE FOR ME.  I HURT MY HAND IN THE BIG GAME ON FRIDAY.  I see.  Now if we look down the corresponding direction for graphite, which is again perpendicular to the planes of packing, we see the hexagonal symmetry, and some similarity between the structures of these two very different materials. Slide.

 

                                               

 

SLIM SLOW SLIDER.  Something about a plane going down; love going down in a plane crash.  (YOU SHOULD RECITE YOUR LATIN PRECOGNATIVES IF YOU"RE SO BORED.  MISS HORNUNG WILL BE TESTING YOUR ON THESE LATER IN THE DAY.)  Recently a large number of new carbon structures with exciting properties were discovered. The famous buckyballs consist of 60 carbon atoms bonded together to form a hollow sphere. These C60 structures look like tiny geodisic domes of the type made famous by the architect Buckminster-Fuller (hence the common name buckyball).  Slide.

 

                                               

 

IT IN BIG, BOY.  THE SEX-SIDED HOLE.  ISN'T THAT WHAT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR SO PATIENTLY?  Larger spheres and ellipsoids can also be constructed, and even hollow nanotubes of carbon, as if graphite layers were rolled up to form microscopic pipes. These new materials, called Fullerenes, have exciting physical and chemical properties that are only now being explored. This last picture was taken from Rice University's gallery of fullerene structures.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

STOP.  I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANY LONGER.  I told you.  We have to get the conch away from him.  THAT DAMN EGGHEAD.  Piggy, pretend you're having a nosebleed.  Flop on the floor like you're going in to convulsions.  Then I'll rush the dias and try to get the conch.  PERHAPS MISTER CROSSMANN WOULD LIKE TO TEACH THE CLASS.  What?  PERHAPS YOU WOULD LIKE TO TELL US ABOUT ZEOLITES.  No, not really.  WHY CAN'T YOU BE MORE LIKE YOUR LIKE-NAMED BUTTER.  HE'S SO QUIET, SO WELL-BEHAVED.  I'M NOT SAYING YOU'RE BAD, EVIL; I'M JUST SAYING YOU'RE STILL A BIT TOO WILD FOR YOU OWN GOOD.  Yes, sir, Mister Sniffer.  (OO, OO THAT SMELL.  If I was half alive - then you were dead - subsistin' on that same old bread - it's the memory that hides - the whole wide world - it's the gashead's love of America - it's the memory that hides - take your photographs back - for the love of all gods - our gashead marches on - our gashead marches on.)  TELL US MORE ABOUT THE ZEOLITES, MISTER SHAFFER.  Yes, I will, dear.  Zeolites are really microscopic architecture.  Well, all of nature's compounds are, for that matter.  The architecture of nature's thoughts.  We have seen that even with common SiO2 silica (sand) there are many different ways of connecting the SiO4 tetrahedrae via their common oxygen atoms. Large framework mineral structures called zeolites can be produced, containing holes and channels within the structure: the example is an artificial zeolite of pure silica called UTD-1.  Zeolite is derived from a Greek word meaning 'boiling stones', since zeolites swell and lose water from their porous structure when heated. They have many important industrial applications due to their unique architecture; they can be used as sieves to purify water, to separate out molecules of different sizes, to make detergents for the kitchen, to remove radio-active elements from spent nuclear fuel, and as catalysts for many chemical reactions, especially in the petro-chemical industry. Over 600 zeolites are known, and new synthetic zeolites are developed and patented every year by large chemical companies.  n the 1970s, fears of a decline in available supplies spurred a search in the U.S. for alternative energy sources. Mobil invented a process for converting methanol into high-quality gasoline through the use of the company's versatile ZSM-5 catalyst, an Al2O3-SiO2 artificial zeolite. When Al+++ is substituted for Si++++, an extra postive charge is required in the vicinity to maintain charge balance with the O--. The most obvious source of this charge is hydrogen H+ or H3O+ from water, which makes the Al+++ site very acidic (able to provide H+ and oxidise materials). The catalytic activity of ZSM-5 is in part due to this acidity and in part to the size and shape of the channels which hold the intercalated molecules.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

YOUR HAND AWAY!  MISTER SHAFFER!  WILLIAM CROSSMANN JUST TOUCHED MY BOTTOM!  What?  Did you do this?  What do you have to say for yourself, son?  JUST EXPERIMENTING WITH CO-VALENT BONDING, SIR.  YOU KNOW: MAN-WOMAN.  FIVE/FIFTHS OF ONE; THREE-FIFTHS OF THE OTHER.  I see.  It was a chemical experiement, Valerie.  Harmless really.  Very understandable.  (Turning to Will Crossmann:) If she didn't begin to boil, then you need to turn up the flame a bit, Mister Crossmann.  YES, SIR.  SHE WAS PRETTY COLD.  (Valedictorian, son -- what do you expect!)  YES, SIR.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

ANOTHER ONE DOWN THE BAR, PAARKEEP.  MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A KING ONE MORE TIME.  (You never grew up.  You wanted to live in high school for ever.  Because that was where you found your glory.)  OH, OH, THAT SMELL.  Just one problem that confronts you.  You got a monkey on your back.  Just one more fix, Lord, might do the trick.  What a helluva price for you to get your kicks.  OOOH, OOH, THAT SMELL.  Can't you smell that smale?  DEVISIVE.  Ooh, that smail.  THE SMELL OF DEAD SURROUNDS YOU.  (It smells like Linda Piche.  Linda Zeolite.  YES.)  Linde Zeolite-A (LZA) is one of the most important zeolites; it is harmless to the environment and is used in washing powders to remove calcium and magnesium ions, which would otherwise be precipitated from 'hard' water.  Over 700 million tons, worth hundreds of millions of dollars, are manufactured each year. In this zeolite, some of the tetrahedral silicon sites (green) are again occupied by aluminium (purple); aluminium oxide is another common constituant of sand.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

I'M TOO TIRED TO PUT UP WITH THIS.  WE NEED A FIRE ALARM.  I NEED TO PEE.  Shh! This is important!  SHH!  Instead of drawing the SiO4 and AlO4 tetrahedrae, we can understand the architecture of zeolites simply by connecting up the Si and Al atoms; this shows the Zeolite-A frame-work structure, and emphasises the different cavities and channels. You can learn more about zeolites from the Zeolite Atlas at ETH-Zurich, which provided this frame-work drawing, and you can generate your own 3D VRML drawings of other structures from the ILL Zeolite page. Slide.

 

                                               

 

OPEN THE BATHROOM DOOR.  I THINK I'M GONNA PUKE.  The mineral world is full of beautiful naturally occuring structures, many of which man has only recently learned to synthesize. We're going to look at some more examples from nature: gemstones & minerals.  But first we'll take a little break.  QUICK, SOMEBODY, TURN OUT THE LIGHT!  Ahh. the Moon.  YOU MISUNDERSTAND THEM, FREIGHT.  IT IS THE WILL THAT IS THE FRIEND OF THE JUICE AND FONDER OF JOINTS.  AND IT IS HIS DARK BROWN BATTLER WHO IS FRIEND OF CHRISTENSNEEDROAR AND OF MIDLOVIAN OR MOLDDAVIAN GERMAN'S HEIDINICKIERDRAWERS, WHEN SHE'S BONDING OVER, SHOWERING AGAIN THE CLEAVE.  NAMEN SIE MIGHT HE, CALLING HER HIS WIFENZEE.  INSIDE OF WHICH TO GROWVELLE.  Dagmar.  INSIDE OF WHICH TO CROWVELLE.  Old Cauchemar.  COW JUDGE PUD ATE HER.  Happily even aft her.  WILLSHEM IS THE DUSK. HE IS THE PHYSICAL BODY WHEN IT IS WEAK AND TIRED.  MOVING INTO DEATH.  SHAUN IS THE DAWN.  HE IS THE PHYSICAL BODY WHEN IT IS REJUVENATED, VITAL, YOUNG.  Willshem is pro-death; McShaun is pro-life.  BUT IN THE CONUNTIDORUUM EACH IS THE STAIN, LIETTERRILY THE SAME LOVE STAIN, ONLY SPREAD OUT OVERT TIME, LIKE BUTTER ON A FERRIS WHEEL.  Si.  MC SHAUN IS THE ONE WHO CARRIES LETTERS, AS HE APPROACHES THE SUNRISE.  Letters -- much as we have found letters, ourselves, in this burial mass.  (I still have mud under my finder's nails.)  BUT WHAT HAS THAT TO DO WITH THIS?  WITH WILL CROSSMANN AND WITH MIGHT LEICHNAM, HIS BROKER.  Don't ask me hard questions now!  MIGHT HAS A NEW BODY, A NEW SET OF CLOTHES.  BODY IS FROM THE OLD ENGLISH 'BODIG', MEANING 'CASK' OR 'BARREL'.  AND FROM THE MIDDLE LOW GERMAN 'BADDIG', MEANING 'TUB FOR BREWING'.  THE BODY IS THE CASK INSIDE OF WHICH THE SPIRITS ARE DISTILLED.  Amenti.  WHERE HAS HE GONE?  Who?  CROSSMANN.  When?  HE WAS OVER THERE.  Has he moved?  HE'S THERE, SOMEWHERE, IN THE DARK.  THE MOON CASTS SUCH A FAINT LIGHT NOW.  What is that fat Jew in the stinky tank-shirt doing back here, slinking around like a John Feline Gotti?  OH, OH.  THE LOWER HE ATE, THE LOWER HE BECAME, VIAVITAL FOODSTUFFS.  Going right down in to dei root.  TURN HIP, RULED OF BAGEL; BEDE; DIKE CRUMB; KARAT TEA, HICCUP MA; SPUD PUDS, SWEDE AND DRYE, RED AND RUST IT.  Lower still.  NOONE LOWER.  Roots and rootnots.  ROOTMOTS.  Partly mob.  PART SNOBS.  Becoming tragic.  DRAGGED DICK -- OH, OH.  Taking on the tragic vue pont.  Bridge to now here.  Midge over the giver que.  AND BED YONG.  Class sickel.  DAY MOND.  Dine.  TIGHT EYED.  Everything Rosie.  ODE ON A HUE.  Rived here.  SIN AERIAL.  Bud tane.  THE MAN CAN STILL LAUGH -- EVEN BURIED UP TO HIS NECK THIS WAY.  Is he going in or cucumbering out?  PARCEL LIGHTINGLY ANY JOKES AS HE GOES, MISTER RICKELS.  HE'S A MAN WITH A MIDGE ON.  A MAN MUTELING HIS MUFFED MENMEMORIES MIRING MOSTLY IN THE MIDST OF MOXIOUS MENGIRTERS.  MONEY GUN.  Tenpenny Oprah.  DON'T MENTION HERE HERE: BIG BLACK MAMA WITH THIGHS OF MUD ALIENS.  Mud Aeolians, perhaps.  MUDDLING WITH MUD DUBBER.  Mandolling with mad pappy.  A LAST LOOK: GOING DAWN.  You looked at her too closely, Mister Tibbs.  AGGH.  Cococoming up for air.  ARHYTHMIA IN DE BLOOD.  Let him dance; Sam Cooke will make him smile; Barry White will make him defile his own sorrowful sorcery.  THERE ARE UDDERS.  Is he going to 'aul thot opem out again, the on from the farther to the son?  From the farter who begames the song?  For the vatter never leaves the flatter's house; but he zends his zone instead, first the darc one and then the unter who becomes king.  WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE KINGFORADAY?  After he is mordred; and then he is placed on a soccered sonboat.  WHERE ARE YOU NOW, DEAR ZERO?  When He sleeps we move in Him; we live in Him and have our being.  When He wakes, we go to sleep.  The warold rocks and rocks with substitious firestorms.  SUPERSPICIOUS MAN.  Tesseract terse actor.  BE HE MOTH OR BE HE MANNIKEN.  BE HE MINERMAL OR BE HE MAXIMULLION.  BE HE MORTARMAKER OR BE HE MARTYRMADE.  The stick is in the antonhim.  WHAT?  Attaching one joint to the next.  GIVE ME A HIT ON THAT.  God, Mary Jane has a real hole in her girldell.  LACE.  LIFE IS LIKE LACE: THIN WHITE DUKES CONNECTED BY HOLES.  Don't bowed guard thad giant, my friend -- pass it over to me.  PLEASANTLY.  Smoke in to the longs.  DAMAGED BULL.  The cow ates the bull.  YASS.  ONE IN THE MORNING; TWO AT NIGHT.  Slaphappy dappyduck.  FRIENDS FRIED POT DATERS.  Thai stick -- mages you thick.  OU ERE DE REVOLUTIONAIRES, MAY SEWERS?  Liberty, Egalite, Fraternite.  THE UNITY; THE DAWN; THE PEOPLE!  Of, oui, oui.  I am on ze side on that purr fellow in the...how do you say, pray zone?  EVERYONE GOES BLAG IN THE MUD, PIERRE.  EVE AND YOU -- BY DEAD SYNE.  So Heav'nly love hsal undoo Hellish hate.  DAVID'S AFFLICTION.  Purge the Tory and Smelt the Whig!  HAY DEEDS.  THE FORMER WAS FRAMER, SIRE.  Siring how many out of weed look?  BENDERS FRANK LINE SURFACED ONLY LATENTLY AS A PARISIAN GIRT TELLS TALES OF BULL BEN.  Country man?  STANDING ON THE SERVICE OF HIS MUNITIONS.  Lie sense; egg nullity; prater's idee.  SOUNDING LIKE A SIGH, NICK.  Nicking sound with a scythe, Nock.  FEE, FIGHT, GOE, FUME -- I SMELL THE BROOD OF A LAMI'S MUM!  Mutton, what is mutton?  GRAMMA MIMMA MAKES A MUTTON MEAL MARKED MOSTLY FOR MINKS AND MEANS.  Dog Tory Lorey adamantly akimbos, jagging his pulse.  BROWN SPOT ON HIS UNDERWARRIOR.  Liberty, freedom, tyranny is dead!  ID IS ONLY JUDELIEST C. SORRIO, COME FOR AFTERNOON TEAT, SWEET GARDENIA MOROVIO.  Tollhouse, Tollhouse; ged oud your quid, Midge.  REMEMBER, DEAR: MINED AERIALS ARE THE FIRST FORMED MATE SHOWN, BEGINNING WITH HYDE'S ROGAIN AND ADDING ON TO JAGGED ECHO'S HEALED LIE IN FORMALLED ACE, RIB EATED.  White lace with black holes in it.  ADD IN TO SPITE 'EM.  Breeding out until the bully stumps.  FAT MAN; ATOM BUMP.  Putting on new clothes; taking off old clothes.  BEGINNING NOODLED.  Noodled in vat and noodled in fat.  PARITY OF TREES -- ZEIN FOLD.  Wheat ant -- you know it.  PUFFY'S SURD.  Jail-o god un OLJ -- Omnipresent Lift from Joyning.  DOUBLE ENDS JOINT.  Ford a shake of car ears.  GIRL SHO NOSE HO DO SHAGE GIT.  Brown girdle; brown boil.  NEVER DE TWIXT DO MEAT.  Lards of fish sticks.  OB OF SIEKS UN TRACTS.  Oily warts.  EEE-HAAAD!  AIM GUN A RAND UTA RUGGED, JOE BUCK!  Fish in netting's ribbin', don't want to let go.  Hey!  BROKE YEARS IN HARM MONEY, FRIEND: ONE TAMES THE BLACKGROUND; THE OTHER TIMES THE WHITE GROUND.  Gezunschwin.  DIRT IN YOUR NOTES?  MISTER UNDERGROUND?  Dust of Eve's sky.  DOUBLE DIM DUMB DITTY.  Fallus Dead, Trick Son.  STAND, WICK.  BERBERS BEWARE.  THE CANDLE IN THE BRAIN IS BOILT.  Crews said.  CREWS SAID WHAT?  The bedder to snuff your wit, my dear.  BIG GUYS YOU HAVE, BOILTED DOWN, DEARDREAD BEARDRED GRAND MULLTHER.  Putting on nude close; taking off soilt clods.  IN AN OUT OF THE GRADE GRAND VACUUM.  Leafing seeds.  THEN BEING EDEN.  Mama mantis, mama mantis; have a bide of the spend pedantis.  SPENT!  SAPIENT!  Homo erectus becomes homo eroticus.  And homo eroticus becomes homo detritus.  HE FINITES THE THING THAT MAKES HIM HOLE.  Mudder.  A BOSS IN THE NEATER MONSTER NOON ARRAY. 

 

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Satorarenopten?  Satyrs aren't open?  THE ACCUSOR SEEKS LABOR FOR THE TEN.  HE SAYS.  SATOROPERATEN.  Hildegarde von Bingen.  WHAT?  Healed a guard vaunt bhangin'.  PO-LEASE!   Let nothing grieve thee, O Land of Ta, for God hath chosen thee to be the source of the joy of all mankind.  I BEG YOUR PARDON.  Not for you -- yet.  For your friend.  WHICH FRIEND?  You know the one.  WHERE IS HE NOW?  Talkin' to the Brown man.  ABOUT THE ORIGIN OF ENTOMS?  Entomnation.  Annanyms and annodines.  ANNANYMPHS AND ANNADENOMINATES.  All for the zeke of thay, Mister Holiday.  SAPPER.  Pissing on the polax.  MAKE THE BULL EXTEND HIS HUMORS.  Magic Square.  TENET.  From tenere: to hold.  THE ACCUSOR SEEKS TO HOLD THE ONE IN PAIN.  Isn't that the story of life, Judge Brink?  BROWN JAMES, MERITOR OF MENTA DIOREE.  Brown manager.  HE'S CREED.  After his interlewd of farts.  MAN IS HIS OWN MAKER; MAKER OR CREATOR; CREATOR OR POET: 'POETS', WHICH IS GREEN FOR 'CREATORS'.  Greek -- you said 'Green'.  YES.  Poiesis.  THE KEY TO THE NEW SCIENCE IS POETRY.  The principle of these origins both of lanugages and of letters lies in the fact that the first gentile peoples, by a demonstrated necessity of nature, were poests who spoke in poetic characters.  THE KEY TO THE NEW SCIENCE IS POETRY.  The key to the New Science is mythology -- but the key to mythology is etymology.  IT FOLLOWS THAT THE FIRST SCIENCT TO BE LEARNED SHOULD BE MYHTHOLOGY OR THE INTERPRETATION OF FABLES.  Lapis lap us.  STONES BUILD THE CITY.  Luta lutan.  BENDING DOWN, THE LOWLY PLEB.  Plebius, upon you!  Upon which the holy poets, the native rids socrats bilked their sitty.  POET-GIANTS FIRST.  For the waking man is limited by boundaries; yet the sleeping man has boundaries none and extends himself throughout the land, a giant without limiting forms.  THE METAPHYSICS OF THE POET-GIANTS, BY MAKING THEM GOD-FEARING, WAS THE SOURCE OF THEIR POETIC MORALITY.  Yes.  Well you can argue this.  I AM NOT CLAIMING OR DE-CLAIMING IT.  The etymology of 'etymology' is from the Greek 'etymon' meaning 'truth'.  THE TRUTH IS IN THE ROOT; THE TRUE MEANING IS THE ORIGINAL MEANING.  Anthropology is history; and history is etymology.  PUN-PUN-PARONOMASTIC.  Paragon onomast masticulator.  WHO IS PARTICIPATING IN THIS RECITATION?  What do you mean?  I RECOGNIZE VOICES: MOISHE AND SOMEONE ELSE.  Is it a Brown voice?  BILDERS BREAKING WIND WITH THEIR FORCES.  First the forest; then the huts; then the villages; then the sitties; finally the academies.  COVI'S VORTEX.   Saving the burst for lesst.  WHAT IS HIS THESIS.  Back to roots.  Back to roots.  ARDOR HAIL HE.  Ardor; and appelebians in the mudd.  HIS STORY HIS A PLAY ON WORDS.  Word and Man and History are the same.  HISTORY IS THE MASCULINE VERB; NATURE IS THE FEMININE VERB.  To history; to nature.  SHE NATURED THE WORLD; HE HISTORIED THE UNIVERSE.  Hysterical nature; natural history.  LEXICON, FROM THE GREEK 'LEXIS': 'WORD'.  Total stock of morphemes.  'Lex" is 'Law'; a collection of citizens; a collection of vegetables; a collection of oak trees; a collection of acorns.  'LECH' IS 'LUST': A COLLECTION OF LECHERERS.  HAIRS IN THE HAND.  A collection of acorns.  AHH, NUTS, YOU SAY?   'LAX' IS FROM THE LATIN, 'LAXUS', FOR 'SLACK': AS IN 'LOOSE', IN THE SENSE OF BOWELS.  Lax populai, vox mockus.  VOGS BOB YOU LIE.  Salus populi suprema lex esto.  'LUCK' IS FROM THE MIDDLE ENGLISH 'LUCKE', FROM THE MIDDLE DUTCH 'LUC', AKIN TO THE MIDDLE HIGH GERMAN 'GELUCKE' MEANING 'FORTUNE' IN BOTH ITS POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE ASPECTS.  Fatima, flaatulanta fogamotia.  AB.  When the atom is annihilated, only darkness remains.  The atom is the essence of the day.  But the atom comes from something.  Comes from nothing.  Comes from chaos.  LITTER ALLEY.  Red action to pre Hyde's rosen L M N tale karma nullity.  PUNSTER.  Eddie Munster.  PARONOMUNSTER.  Eddie Cheesemeister.  PORNOMASTER.  Monster ball.  Monster ballblaster.  BREE HIGH DRAGOON A LIMB AND ANTHILL STEW.  Cassius's clay panaramonometer.  VEIL.  Hymen vellum, caul id was yule awl.  RID YOU ALL OF SOUL STUDUAL BREADTH.  Before bear shith, you mean?  ON THE NO-NOMBRE SIDE OF THE SACRED VISUAL.  Word and Anti-Word collide and annihilate the abdom.  ANNIHILATING THE ABDO MEN.  Annihilated by optomum.  AYE.  REVIDUAL MATER.  Play your rabab, Mister Rebok.  Adam's time is antonym's anniversary.  DO WE DANCE DUE THOUGHT?  You cain if you'd oar able.  TOW BOATS BELLYCLOSELY BALKING.  Meding add the naval.  BOOMINSTROM.  The abnihilisation of the etym by the grisning  of the grosning of the grinder of the grunder of the first lord of Hurtreford expolodotonates through Parsuralia with an ivanmorinthorrorumble fragromboassity amidwhiches general uttermosts confussion are perceivable moletons skaping with mulicules while coventry plumpkins fairlygosmotherthemselves in the Landaunelegants of Pinkadindy.  BUD AFT ADORE THAT, THE ART TESSELLATION OF LAIN GAUGE.  A plantastic speed judge megging use of fiscal sub's dance end dolled with hives amodst of the elm imaging their swords to be dove vine.  WHAT?  What does this mean?  MEANING.  The meaning is in the rood.  THE ROOD OF ALL EBOL.  Ebol Ebon Abel Eyeball.  VALHALLEN CONNED EDITION.  Ebol Eiffel eval evil.  AND IT'S ROOD RUDE ROOD FOR THE HOMME TEAM, IF THEY'D OWN IT WIND ID'S A SHAMED.  FUR ID'S ONE, TWO, THREE STRIDES EWER OUD, ADD THE OLD BOWL GRAIN.  Ebol Obol Offal Opal Oval. ISLAND BOY.  EYE LAND, BOIL.  Ebol Uphill Abdul Afoul Appall.  EYE AND HAND BOY.  ISLE OF MAN BOY.   Ebol Appeal Avail Avowal Awful.  A VOWEL?  WHAT COMES FIRST: THE CONSTANT ANT'S ASS, OR THE AVOWEL?  Ab healed onion boy.  STERNING THE CAULDRON, THE AB FATHER STORES THE TUB WITH TUBIRON.  Magus of your sword, boy, an island to the embroled, an island surrounded by vats seeds of Malachi waves.  BROWN OUT.  ELECTRICITY WANES.  Nihil est in intellectu quin prius fuerit in sensu.  THE ISLAND INTELLECT CANNOT CUNT SIEVE SUNDRAY THINKS OB SWITCH IT HAS HANDLED NO ERRILY SENSUAL PURPORTS.  Island man.  NAM DANLIS.  The atoms or etyms of language, the roots, are not prosaic sensations but poetic genera.  POETIC ORIGINS; PROSAIC, LEGAL CONDEMNED INDIANS.  As house does he mean?  From T P Z to condominiums.  SUM THINGS LIKENED THAT.  Poetry is the seed and the root; prose is the fruit, the cullled mensurations; finally freed.  CIVOC MAN, BILLING A ROAD OF AQUA DUCKS BY IMAGE EMIGRATION.  ESSAYING.  The first men, the children, as it were, of the human race, not being able to form intelligible class concepts of things, had a natural need to create poetic characters; that is, imaginative class concepts or universals, to which, as to certain models or ideal portraits, to reduce all the particular species which resembled them.  DUN QUOTH.  Fought not.  FART KNOT UMBER NAY?  Elf even; elf even; elf even.  IMAGE INVENTIVE CLANS COIGNED SCEPTRES OR MIDTHEOLOGIES.  S A ing -- peon in hand.  LEAD'S KNOT GETUP ALL DIRTY KNOLL.  Sensible signs believed to be divine counsels sent to man by the gods.  SENSE ABILITIES KORANNECTED TO GOD BUD THIS IS ONLY HEAVEN DENSE DAWN THE HEIL REAL LIMB CLOTHES TO GOD, B4 ATOM PHELL.  Drunkards talk; and drunkards listen.  THAT IS NOT THE ONLY THING.  What does that mean?  THIS IS THE WAY THAT THE THEOLOGICAL POETS APPREHENDED JOVE, CYBELE AND NEPTUNE, FOR EXAMPLE, AND, AT FIRST MUTELY POINTING, EXPLAINED T HEM AS SUBSTANCES OF THE SKY, THE EARTH, AND THE SEA, WHICH THEY IMAGINED TO BE ANIMATE DIVINITIES AND WERE THEREFORE TRUE TO THEIR SENSES IN BELIEVING THEM TO BE GODS.  The gigantos were born dead then; born asleep.  Awakened in the darkness. Sleep-walkers.  SOME NAME BOWL LEASTS.  Same numb ballists. SUM NYMPHALISTS.  Sun nimble lusts.  SCREECH BEGAN IN MOOD TEMPS WITH THE BOTTLE.  Speech began in mute times with the body.  Mutes make themselves understood by gestures or objects that have natural relations with ideas they wish to signify.  This axiom is the principle of the hieroglyphs by which all nations spoke in the time of their first barbarism.  MOODS UNDER FUMELESS WOUNDS BY SIGNING; AND HAMMERS BY STINGING TEETH THEIR TONGS TO BEHIVELY.  Mutes utter formless sounds by singing; and stmmerers by singing teach their tongues to pronounce.  Men vent great passions by breaking in to song, as we observe in the most grief-stricken and the most joyful.  It follows that the founders of the gentile nations, the nation of giants, having wandered about in the wild state were inexpressive save under the impulse of violent passions, and formed their first languages by singing.  SING; SING A SONG; SING OUT LOUD; SING OUT STRONG.  SING OF GOOD THINGS NOT BAD.  SING OF HAPPY NOT SAD.  Put a Locke in it.  WHAT?  A wind sock.  Put a wind sock in it.  WHAT'S HE DOING -- BANGING OUT SOME HELEN REDDY TRIBUTE, OR WHAT?  CAN'T HE SEE WE'RE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE.  Non, Non, mesdames.  Eet was le Charpentiers -- I am shure of eet.  Karen and...you know....the Captain.  Her brother, who she was leaping with.  THE CAPTAIN AND TENILLE, YOU SAY?  FLESH MONKEYS.  BROTHER AND SLITASTRIDE HER?  No, no -- you mean Donnie and Marie, don't you?  NOTHING HAS BEEN PROVEN IN ANY OF THOSE CASES.  You go to sleep out here, you might as well be signing your own death warrant!  I mean it man!  It's got to be thirteen degrees if its anything!  CALM YOUR HEART, NOBLE PILGRIM.  Byron did it; Mozart; Mendelsohn too.  DID WHAT?  You know -- played porki with their own siltastride her.  I BEG YOUR PARDON!  Raise high the roof-beam, carpenter!  Wouldn't you say?  LITERARY OLD LESION.  Karen certainly played the role of the possessive and devouring mother with Richard, interfering and controlling his attempts to break free and have a normal life outside relationship. According to him he never did this to her. But his natal Pluto in the 12th sits on her Moon--Pluto in Leo in the 3rd house. So there is no doubt that he was capable of very unconscious and covert undermining and manipulations of his own. And this showed up not in the relationship arena but, for him as a man, in the competitive, world-stage arena. When Karen made a bid to break free and produce a solo album of her own, she had to contend with his tremendous anger, plus her own guilty sense of betrayal and insecurity. It is hardly surprising that this solo album failed as dismally as their outside relationships did because they were always referring back to one another or else to their parents for approval of every step away towards independence.  FAMERLY FONDERLY.  Fistfilly fraternity.  FIRST LOVE, BECKONING OFF TOWARD THE EVERLIES.  Borrowing brown matter again -- frond against wheat cain be growthed.  YES.  Here keen again and begin again to make soundsense and sensesound kin again.  YES!  Boy and girl.  Brother and sister.  Moving toward one another at high speeds.  One with his skin on the outside; the utter with her skin on the inside.  ONE A SOUNDSENSE, A GENERATOR; THE OTHER A SENSESOUND -- ONE WHO SENSES SOUND -- A RECEIVER.  In sensed.  ONE RICHER; AND THE OTHER CARING.  Brother Song; Sistern Noon.  STARING IN TO THE WATERBOWL TO SEE THE WORLDFORM, PIERRE.  Notre Demise.  COLINGULA.  In Germany, it is legal for a sister to have oral sex with her brother, but penetration is illegal.  SO, WHAT ABOUT CROSSMANN?  DID HE PENETRATE HIS SISTER?  My God, man!  Where would you get such a thought!  THERE WAS SOME DISCUSSION ABOUT IT.  Nothing definitive.  IT'S BOUND TO COME UP AT HIS TRIAL.  Lucrezia Borgia has sex with her father and both of her brothers, Cesare and Giovanni, the Second Duke of Gandia.  IT WAS NOT PROVEN IN COURT!  IT WAS A RUMOR ONLY!  Cleopatra married her brother after one sister was murdered and a second sister mysteriously disappeared.  AGRIPPINA THE BOUNDER HAD SEX WITH HER BROTHER CALIGULA, WHO REPORTED SLEPT WITH AGRIPPINA'S OTHER TWO SISTERS: DRUSILLA AND LIVILLA.  WHEN CLAUDIUS BECAME EMPEROR AFTER CALIGULA'S DEATH, AGRIPPINA MARRIED CLAUDIUS, AN ACT OF INCEST BECAUSE OF WHICH AGRIPPINA CHANGED THE LAW GOVERNING INCEST.  SHE MURDERED HER HUSBAND WITH A PLATE OF POISONED MUSHROOMS, RAISING HER OWN SON, NERO, TO THE THRONE, WITH WHOM SHE ALSO WAS A SEXUAL CONSORT.  BUT SHE WAS THEN MURDERED BY NERO, ENDING HER REIGN OF FLESH.  Old Commodus in Lucillus.  ANNE BOILED IN HER OWN BROODER'S BROOD, GORGED.  Clodius attackled to Clodia.  STOP.  What?  WHY THIS NOW?  The first sound, the first song, the love song, brother and sisters.  MAKING NOISE.  Love making noise.  CIVILIZATION ORIGINATES IN STAMMERING.  Stammering hammering love act.  THAT MUSH IS NOT KNOWN.  FOR CERTAIN.  When he speaks of grunt I'm not certain that this was the only grunting.  MUTE FIRST; MUTTERER NEXT.  To udder sounds or words indistinctly or with a low voice and with the lips partly closed.  WITCH LIBS?  Mud-mud-mud-mudder.  Fat-fat-fat-fat-fatter.   Mudder and fatter.  Mutter and Vater.  WHERE GERM MEN THE TIP OF THE ICEBURGH OF CITIVALUATION?  Nine.  Eight Seven.  SILBILIZATION BEGAMS IN STAM-STEM-STAMMERING.  Ba-ba-babular, have you any wolves?  YES, SIR -- YES, SIR -- THREE BIBLES FUELED.  Fold.  Earth's fold.  Finding it there by touch.  SHY DEB.  Outer us.  HODOROUS.  Undera there.  FOLD.  Womben.  UDDEROUS.  Utah rose.  VEGINATE.  Vacuum eye name.  MUND MOUTH.  MOUND MOTHER.  Mirther.  BRU-BRU-BRU BELLY.  The sibspeeches of all mankind have foliated (earth seizing them!) fro the root of some funner's stotter.  SOME FUNNER'S DAUGHTER?  Totter teeter daughter's sweeter.  TEETER IS COMPLETER; BUT INKSEST IS BEST.  This time, you've gone too far.  Yes, this time, you've gone too far.  This time you've gone too far -- I told you, I told you, I told you, I told you.  STOP.  BAG ON TREK.  Where?  WHAT?  Cur, quicquid, ubi, quando, quomodo, quoties, quibus auxilis.  DOG, FAST BUCK, DOOBIE, MONDO, DRAGON, DAILY DUMPLINGS, WIT WHO WHAT OR WHERE.  Very good.  WHERE IS SHE?  Where is who?  BAG ON TREK.  Bag on trek who?  BACK ON TRACK TO HACKENSACK.  Back on track to Hackensack who?  BACK ON TRACK TO HACKENSACK ATTACK.  Back on track to Hackensack attack who?  BACK ON TRACK TO HACKENSACK ATTACK COMING RIGHT BACK ATTA YOU?  Mohammed Atta?  Precocely.  DIGGING IN THE DIRT -- FIND THE PLACES WE GOT HURT.  How did these people end?  WHAT?  This civilization?  How did it go down?  LIKE ALL CIVILIZATIONS.  TIME RAN OUT.  THE SUN WENT DOWN.  Ahh, yes.  The Sun.  (Pushing a huge arm of metal out of the way.)  Ahh, loog add disk.  (In the mud, under a rubbish bile: adorned beige from the pipeall.  He pukes up to rech -- the stunch all roll and rockish:)  Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.'  MAKE A NAME FOR OURSELVES.  Michael.  MAKE A NAME FOR OURSELVES.  Metatron.  AHH.  It was a name that gave him the power to be re-born.  He went through death, this Crossmann, through the hellish experience of the underworld.  And it was in his being given a name, a name of power, that allowed him to find the boat of rebirth again.  That allowed him to resurrect his body.  OSSIFIRE US.  Yes.  RA RA REMULUS.  Why were letters buried in this mermorial?  WHICH WARMORIAL?  They own here.  This blaze of the tower.  BA-BA-BABEL, HAVE YOU ANY WORMS.  Yen, sir; yen, sir; three spikes full.  UHH, WHAT IS THAT SMELL?  Oh, can't you smell that smell?  OH, THIS.  I BELIEVE IT TO BE, INDEED, FOSSILIZED VOMIT FROM A LARGE MARINE REPTILE WHICH AT SOMETHING REALLY REALLY BAD ABOUT 160 MILLION YEARS AGO.  IT'S FROM THE JURASSIC AGE, NO DOUBT.  PROBABLY FROM AN ICHTHYOSAUR, WHICH IS A REPTILE WHICH RESEMBLES A FISH WITH A LONG HEAD, A TAPERED BODY, AND FOUR FLIPPERS.  I'M QUITE SURE THIS IS THE OLDEST FOSSILIZED VOMIT ON A GRAND SCALE EVER DISCOVERED, AS A MATTER OF ACT.  Rancid ancestor's handstand.  PROFUSELY.  Can you tell wad it was he ated?  NOT WITHOUT A SPECTROSOPE.  Have thee not a thing such as?  NO DOBITUBELY.  Ahh.  There's something in there -- dark and stick --  all the time it's getting strong.  THE UNITY; THE DAWN; THE PEOPLE!  No way of dealing with this feeling.  I can't go on like this too long.  THE UNITY; THE DAWN; THE PEOPLE!  Does anyone have a gun?  WHAT?  Crossmann's pistol -- where has it gone?  Who has it?  RELAX.  IT IS NOT TIME TO WAKE HIM.  YOU'RE JEST HEAVING A NAKETIVE DREAM.  GOO BOG DOO SLEEB, DEAR CHILD OF THE HERBS.  THOR'LL BE PLINKLY GUNS WHEN YOU WADE LAHORE, DER SCHWIMMER.  The Night Man suits himself.  The Night Man suits himself.  The Night Man suits himself.  CELLS STUB FISH NET.  CELTS STAB FRENCH NUT.  Loog at the sky, parsnip.  Look at the stars long enough and you will see your de stael revlegdead.  You'll find your orbbuster not orally.  The own that is your spatular home.  THE DAY MAN CARRIES LETTERS.  THE DAY MAN CARRIES LETTERS.  Flocculi Flocculi.  FLOC YULE TOO, MISTER MADEINTHESHADE PHLIBBINGONEASYSTREET PROBESSOR.  What?  Sir, I am astounded that you wood speak in such a hollow void to me.  NOB THING IS SACRED DOWN HERE, PROFEDSWORD.  THAT'S SOMETHING TO RE-COLLECT WHEN ROOTING FOR THE DRAGNESS SO.  My number is 714.  I carry a badge.  DO DO DO, DO DO DO DO DO.  DO DO DO, DO DO DO DO DO.  DO DO DO, DO DO DO.  DA.  Fumey -- the way the moodsick is inheraunt in the rates.  Even in this whiporwill, where everythign turns and turns, ad emptyfidem.  ERRATA RATHE RATHOR.  Hathor.  GEN-GEN OF THE GENERATOR GENERAL.  Herr Henoral, wad's begum of your henitalls?  MEAD HEAD.  VIGO VAGO.  Our treatment of history must take its start from the time these creatures began to think humanly.  In their monstrous savagery and unbridled bestial freedom there was no means to tame the former or btidle the latter but the frightful thought of some divinity, the fear of whom is the only powerful means of reducing to duty a liberty gone wild.  THOR.  What?  THUNDERTHOR.  These first men, who later became the princes of the gentile nations, must have done their thinking under the strong impulsion of volent passions, as beasts do.  Hence, poetic wisdom, the first wisdom of the gentile world, must have begun with a metaphysics not rational and abstract like that of learned men now, but felt and imagined, as that of these first men must have been, who, without power of rationcination, were all robust sense and vigorous imagination.  This metaphysics was their poetry, a faculty born with them (for they were furnished by nature with these senses and imaginations): born of their ignorance of causes, for ignorance, the mother of wonder, made everything wonderful to men who were ignorant of everything.  IN THE DARKNESS, THE POETIC IS TRUE.  IN THE LIGHT, REASON IS TRUE.  TWO WORLDS: TWO DIVIDENT LHAS OF TORTURE.  The diameter is the ray of light (Man Ray?) that is reabsorbed by the circle; Man Ray being periodical.  Flash your light!  THE ABORIGINE STANDS WITH ONE FOOT IN THE DARK AND ONE FOOT IN THE LIGHT.  Abhor originals.  FROM THE LATIN 'AB' 'ORIGINE': 'FROM THE BEGINNING'.  Mind buried in the body.  WHAT?  In the Dark, the man's mind is buried in the body, buried under the earth.  It sinks down in to his crotch; and then in to his feet.  PEDESTRIAN HUMERUS.  John Walker, John Walker, Send Pericles On Over.  ACRO POLICE.  A fort toe fie eddied haught.  SO LUMBERING ABOG US.  Mind buried in the shoe.  BUT HE IS WEARING NO SHOES.  Mind buried in the tig boe.  ENERGY FIELD.  INERT G FIELD.  Acceleration of the G rapiditly.  GYROMAGNETIC FORDS.  Grave Eddie Eph, gyro magnet fur E Z the tailor.  WHAT A VOICE WILL DO FOR THE MAN.  John Walker, John Walker, send the rockettes on over.  I'LL HAVE A PUNCH OF JW RED OVER SOME RUDDY MUTTON OLDSTERS, SHELL VAV PLAY.  MESSED YOUR.  MISSED YOUR OVELETTES, ELSE BATH.  Bobbing on the water.  NIPPLONIAS WANTS TO SPEAK.  Baby breath will be thy death.  MAGWONDERS OF MAGBREATH.  Struedel, streudel, oil and noodle.  Iron ferns; and old ones cuddle.  MAGWHEELS ON EMGEES, MACDUNCAN.  Macnuggets on the mind of mum.  MAGNUGGETS ON MAGWHEAT OF WHITE.  Wide sitting embrace.  STOMACH STUTTERING.  SEEKING TO TEACH THE SLIPPING GIANT THE REAL VALUE OF HIS SKIN.  His kin?  Gen, Genuine, Generate, Genitals, Genus, Genius, Gentility, Gentrify, Gentleman from Ghent.  GUN UND GO GAP.  Grin and go gaping, said the Ape to Margaret Meade.  DRINK A HEALTHY TOAST, MARGY, BEFORE YOU RIDE URE FAMEBULBOUS REBUTT.  She's node.  Sell her want she words to sere.  SCRATCH AND SNIFF.  POINT AND BLUSTER.  Ba-Ba-Baba O'Reilly.  BA-BA-BASTARD O'BABULL LEAF.  Brine.  BOBBLE.  Baubel Papal Offal Popper.  THE ONERITY; THE DUNG; THE POOP HILL.  Give him some more trink, True Man.  When he wags he won't know what wept him.  GOD, THE SHINE.  HE'LL BE TOTALLY SOUSAED WHEN HE WAKES UP.  Borned with a trumped pet in his handel.  NIGHTSHONENALIST  Man of letters; man of law.  HE HAS GATHERED HERE, AS HE SLEEPS, MEN AND WOMEN OF LETTERS, AS HIS SECONDS.  Each a man of letters; except for the woman, who is not a man.  NOTSOLOPCISM.  No fidegetermen, these.  NOONE.  Brown says: THE THUNDER IS GOD STUTTERING.  Brun has Vago speak: FIRST THE DIVINE, A DUMB LANGUAGE OF HIEROGLYPHS.  Mute speech is hieroglyph and body speech, stammering and poetry, high and low, seen as one.  I AM ALL THINGS, HIGH AND LOW, RICH AND POOR, TIME AND SPACE, DAY AND NIGHT.  I AM ALL THINGS, UNBROKEN, AS ONE.  I AM ONE AND ALSO EVERY NUMBER COMING FROM ONE.  And eleven.  YES.  The Thunder is the voice of God stuttering and saying NO!  THE PATRIARCH SAYS 'NO' -- 'THOU SHALT NOT!'  THE MATRIARCH SAYS 'YES' -- 'IF YOU WISH TO, YES!'   The Father says NO to disorder, believing he is thereby saying YES to life.  Believing that by saying YES to discipline, he is saying YES to life.  THE MOTHER SAYS yes TO LOVE, BEILIEVING SHE IS THEREBY SAYING yes TO LIFE.  BELIEVING THAT SHE IS SAYING no TO AUSTERITY, no TO SEVERITY.  It is the father's job to teach his children about survival; it is the Mother's job to teach her children about love.  THE MOTHER TEACHES THE CHILDREN ABOUT ART AND CULTURE; THE FATHER TEACHES THE CHILDREN ABOUT MONEY AND WAR.  EACH IS NEEDED TO PROVIDE THE CHILD WITH BALANCE.  THE WORLD IS NOT ALWAYS FRIENDLY.  THE ANGELS BELIEVE THAT EVERYTHING IS GOOD.  BUT IT IS NOT SO.  Silence comes before Chaos, remember.  But then Chaos comes.  SILENCE IS THE UNIFIED BEING.  CHAOS IS THE DISAFFECTED SPIRIT.  Long Yawn Taverner.  THE MUTE MOUTH IS THE SILENCE.  Chaos comes from Thunder.  FEAR FROM THOR'S THUNDER -- SENDING MAN INTO THE CAVE FOR PRAYERS.  Greek 'mythos' is 'myth'; Latin 'mutus' is 'mute'.  BRUNEHILDA SAYS: The original language is the language of the gods; the language of the gods is mute speech; myth is mute speech.  FOREIGN AGAIN'S WORK SAYS: All's set for restart after the Silence.  REICH START ABFTER THE SEA LANCE.  PIERRE.  Comet soon, for your eeliverance dei.  THE SLOW LENS IS THE SABBATH.  Sole lens.  FROWN AGAIN'S WEEK SAYS: Silence in thought!  Spreach!  Wear anartful of outer nocense!  ICY.  Brown Beddy coral airies: FIRST THE DIVINE, A DUMB LANGUAGE OF HIEROGLYPHICS OR SACRED CHARCTERS.  POETIC CHARACTERS.  Imagism.  Language as epiphany.  Flashes of lightning.  THEN FORMAGAIN STAKES: Where flash becomes word and silents  selfloud.  TWO BOOKS GET ON TOP OF EACH OTHER AND BECOME SEXUAL.  Brooder sexter get up on top of each other.  BRITTLE BAKER HAS A HAND IN THE OVEN.  Broker, breaker, broken.  BROWN BAKER BARKS: The elements of language are sensory topics.  Sensory topics are poetic images.  Etyms are images.  The Chinese written charaacter is visible etymology.  EMBER SOME ALMOST BELIEVES THAT POETRY IS FOSSILIZED LANGUAGE -- POOR ANTIQUE STONE.  How do you spell 'Truth'?  TROPE - TROUPE - TROOPS.  I say.  DIVINE - HEROES - MEN.  Trope - Troupe - Troops.  TRAPPED.  PRIMITIVE - PREHISTORIC - HISTORIC.  Trope - Troupe - Troops.  RELIGION - MARRIAGE - BURIAL.  Trapped.  THE DIVINE BEING FAST ASLEEP.  A CHILD IS HIS BROWN BRAIN, EMBRACING BRACING.  Foci Voci says: ALL NATIONS BEGAN TO SPEAK BY WRITING.  PHILOLOGISTS HAVE BELIEVED THAT LANGUAGES FIRST CAME IN TO BEING AND THEN LETTERS.  WHEREAS, LANGUAGE AND LETTERS WERE BORN TWINS AND PROCEEDED APACE THROUGH ALL THEIR THREE STAGES.  Fucko them rescinded: WHAT GOD DEPOSITED IN THE WORLD WAS WRITTEN WORDS, LETTERS; ADAM, WHEN HE FIRST ASSIGNED NAMES TO THE BEASTS, WAS READING THESE VISIBLE AND SILENT MARKS, THIS MUTE SPEECH.  Sin bulls.  PARDON?  Simples.  HERR BRUNE KNOWS NOB AS NOB KNOW BONBON NABLES: All is one book.  The Book of God's Work and the Book of God's Word.  Every phenomenon is scripture.  Not alphabetic but hieroglyphic.  Find tongues in trees; and books in the running brooks.  Find sermons in stones; and find God in everything.  GOTT IN EVERY DING.  Muse ache.  GOD IN EVERCLEAR EVERDEAR SINGS.  Muse ache.  Touching but not touching.  MOLES SAY IT.  Motes; motes; motes pray egg.  SHAUN IS THE DAWNSON IN THE BARREL, IN THE BODY.  HE IS THE SHELL WHICH PROTECTS THE EGG.  FOR WHEN THE SHELL BREGGS, THEN THE EGG COMES ALP.  THE EGG IS THE SPIGOTAL SOUL.  Body first, times five; Soul negst, times seven.  Seven memes.  Spirit lext, first and last: BODY-SOUL-SPIRIT.  Damned architect of something.  WHAT?  Don't you see?  He is drawing some kind of blueprint here.  A BLUEPRINT FOR THE SOUL?  More than that.  A brutepoint for everdung.  I OPE E DIDN'T USE THE TUNC PAGE FOR WIPING.  When?  Who?  THE FOOL ON THE HILL.  What else are you finding here?  IN THE MULD?  Yes.  Any more persidual papers or ladders?  OH, THERE MUST BE MORE.  I'M SURE WE'LL FIND HIS FATHER'S BONES HERE TOO.  Careful what you wedge for.  I'M UP TO MY NEEDS IN BROWN AND I'M NOT SURE WHAT GOOD IT'S FUR IS FOR ME.  Animal shmanimmal.  Tramped in the fulm.  WATCH OUT FOR THE GLASS.  The glass has all been smelted in some fulcinellian wave pattern.  MELTED BY THOTH?  Behabs.  Mind over madder.  FIRST LANGUAGE BY ANALOGY.  Anal log?  I can see where your mind if ruining now.  I'VE BEEN WANTING TO GET OUT OF THIS DITCH ALL NIGHT.  BUT I DONT' HAVE ANY PAPER.  Hell, there's dinosaur vomit in here.  Let yourself out, man -- only in another hole, over there.  I WAS NOT RAISED TO MAKE A DIG MY COMMODE, COME MEASURE.  Captain's log: Spock needed to drop a porcupine from his bum in a hairy but he nude decorum wold not allot it.  Sewn he deposited it in the eld memory bunk, hoping to draw interest on his L M N T L hoard, brown braisier.  TROPE DOPE POPE OPIUM.  TROUPE STOOP POOP COUPLERS.  TROOPS COUPS DUPES MOOPESADVENT.  It isn't Moops.  There were no Moops.  It was Moors.  The card is a misprint.  A MISFIT?  Cothes not fitting properly.  NO, MOOPS.  You idiot, its Moors.  SORRY, THE ANSWER IS 'MOOPS'.  They invaded Spain in the Eighth Century.  WHO ARE THE MOOPS, ALEX?  Yes, by gosh, for two hundred dollars.   SHAUN STRABS ON HIS ARMOR WHEN THE WAR COMES A GLIFTING.  SHEM RUNS AWAY TO QUIZZLERLAND, RUNS AWAY TO SWITCHER BUND.  Zelig has no body for fie fie foing, friend.  HE CONDOMS THE BREATHER WHO SOLDERS HIS KAYEODDS AND SEALS THE BEARDERS AS HOARDERS HOE AB ROACH HIM.  Thinking little, then, of the brother in black?  BEDE THE GREAT SEA URN IDE DEAL.  Be the unity, he says.  He says: wheel shelled be the gyrant.  NUMBER.  UNO.  UNO FROM NUNO.  Umber steads:  REBUS ROB US; REBUS RUB US.  THE RITE WAY.  Open your dictionary, quick, Loneagrand.  WHAT?  No; don't unzip your pants.  The dictionary.  REBUS: a representation of words or syllables by pictures of objects or by symbols whose names resemble the intended words or syllables in sound; also : a riddle made up of such pictures or symbols.  REBUS ROMBULUST; REBUS REAMUS.  A Latina with things.  AHH, YES.  Rebus rub us; rebus excite us.  SUBER!  I REALLY THINK IT'S ALL JUST A SUBER, SUBER THING.  WITH THINGS.  Non verbis sed rebus.  HIERATIC GLYPHIC RIDDLE.  In heraldry, a picture of two swollen penises might appear on the shield of Duke Rowdy Cox of Serpent's Hollow.  I SEE.  Get out your pom-poms, girl.  MUTE SPEECH: SAY IT WITH THINGS, SAY IT WITH DEEDS!  MUTE SPEECH:  SAY IT WITH SONGS, SAY IT WITH DONGS!  Yes, well, something like that.  A REBUS, A RODDLE: A POOZLE WHICH CAN ONLY BE SOLVED BY TURNING IT AROUND AND LOOKING AT IT FROM EACH DIRECTION.  Ahh, like Crossmann's art then.  Yes.  In much of his art he turns it around and works on it from all four directions.  ACTUS LEGITIMI.  Icon.  Iconog.  Iconography.  Icon.  MARVELOUS.  SIMPLY MARVELOUS.  The Nude Science is heraldry.  To read the shield of Achilles.  With all of history on it.  History is a mute poem, a work of art; and every field is a hieratic shield.  ERIGINERY FIELD.  Vaco vollows: THE FIRST SHIELD IN THE WAROLD WAS THE GROUND OF THE FOILED WHERE THE DEAD WERE BORED.  WHENCE, IN THE SIGH ENDS OF HER OLDERY, THE SHIELD IS THE GRINDED OF ARMS.  Bones and crushed flesh in the ground.  LIKE HERE, I GUESS.  A TUFT OF HAIR.  A SEVERED HAND.  A CRUSHED PIMENTO BRAIN.  ISOHESOSAURIAN VOMIT.  Yes.  Like hair.  TO FIND SIGNIFICANCE, WE MUST LEARN HOW TO READ SIGNS.  For Nature is a labyrinth of signs, a photograph of the mind of God.  YES.  A Law of Nature is a thought of God.  YES.  Forniken's Wage understeads the groveler's grabspring: THANKS, BELOVED, TO ADAM, OUR FORMER FIRST FINNLATTER AND OUR GROCEREST CHURCHER, AS PER GRIPPITHS' VARUATIONS, FOR HIS BEAUTIFUL CROSSMESS PARZEL.  Ahh, Christmas Crossword Parcel Puzzle.  For thart is die natura.  STARTING FROM SCRATCH.  The hen scratches the burial mound and uncovers the letter A.  From which all the world is then built.  Or re-built.  Rebus. Rebus.  PHOENIXAGAIN'S WROTE: The proteiform graph, itself, is a polyhedron of scripture.  THAT'S WHAT THIS IS TOO.  Which?  THIS BOOK.  Which we are reading?  WHICH WE ARE WRITING.  We are writing a book?  YES.   HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED?  I thought we were digging in the dirt -- waiting for him to be awakened.  YES, OF COURSE.  LITERALLY SO.  BUT THERE IS MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE.  Ahh.  I suspected as much.  BROWNBOILED POEDATETOES: The new barbarism wandering in the woods again with re-discover the Book.  DRUID RUINED.  Rune rune.  THE TREE OF LETTERS.  Log nest.  Lark noest.  SPELL YOUR SPELLS, O THREE FINGERED WATCHES.  Our second minutes wander.  THRICE THE BRINDED CAT HATH MEW'D.  Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whined.  HARPIER CRIES: 'TIS TIME, 'TIS TIME!  (Spelling:) A G G R A V A T I O N.  FORNICAN'S WAIT DECLAIMS A LEX: How they cast their spells upon, the fronds that thereup float, the bookstaff branchings!  The druggeted stems, the leaves incut on trees!  Do you can their tantrist spellings?  I can lese, skillmistress aiding.  Elm, bay, this way, cull dare, take a message, tawny runes ilex sallow, meet me at the pine.  THESE PINES ARE NOT THE ONES I'M USED TO.  THEY WON'T CARRY ME HOM WHEN I CRY.  AM I GOO FAR GONE TO RECOVER; OR CAN I TURN CAN I TURN CAN I TURN IF I TRY?  Bronzyman says: MAN IS THE LANGUAGE ANIMAL; BUT IF LANGUAGE IS WRITING -- AND IF ALL NATURE IS WRITTEN -- THEN ALL ANIMALS ARE LANGUAGE ANIMALS.  IT IS AS SCRIPTURE THAN MAN BECOMES PART OF NATURE AGAIN.  AS HE BECOMES MYTHY AGAIN -- THAT IS TO SAY, MUTE.  Travel. Arrival.  Years of an inch and a step.  Toward a source.  I'm coming to you.  I'll be there in time.  I'm coming to you.  I'll be there in time.  Take this.  Mute mouth.  Broken tongue.  Now this.  Dark life.  If shot through with light.  THE OND.  Not the yond.  Somesting more.  IN THE LITTERING BROWN LEAVES, THE RENEWAL OF LETTERS.  I seed.  OND DUMN.  Automan dumbhim.  FOR SPEECH WAS BORN IN MUTE TIMES AS A MENTAL LANGUAGE.  IT WAS FITTING THAT THE MATTER SHOULD BE SO ORDERED BY DIVINE PROVIDENCE IN RELIGIOUS TIMES, FOR IT IS AN ETERNAL PROPERTY OF RELIGIONS THAT THEY ATTACH MORE IMPORTANCE TO MEDITATION THAN TO SPEECH.  I chew.  BEETLE NUTS.  I chew.  IT'S COLD BOWED HERE.  FEED ENSNOWERED.  Don't shake.  You're only seeming.  AHH, WAKE ME WHEN I SHEW THE BIRD.  THE WHITE BIRD.  HEALINGINTINE.  HAZEL.  Vico has voci: THERE MUST BE IN THE NATURE OF HUMAN INSTITUTIONS A MENTAL LANGUAGE COMMON TO ALL NATIONS, WHICH UNIFORMLY GRASPS THE SUBSTANCE OF THINGS FEASIBLE IN HUMAN SOCIAL LIFE AND EXPRESSES IT WITH AS MANY DIVERSE MODIFICATIOS AS THESE SAME THINGS MAY HAVE DIVERSE ASPECTS.  THIS COMMON MENTAL LANGUAGE IS PROPER TO OUR SCIENCE, BY WHOSE LIGHT LINGUISTIC SCHOLARS WILL BE ENABLED TO CONSTRUCT A MENTAL VOCABULARY COMMON TO ALL THE VARIOUS ARTICULATE LANGUAGES LIVING AND DEAD.  Amen.  YES, AMEN.  A language that in and by itself makes the poetry and does the thinking.  WHAT?  Yes.  SO GO IN TO THE VULGAR.  ALL THINGS COME FROM THE VULGAR, FROM THE MUD OF EXPRESSION, FROM THE SLIME OF BELIEFS.  Vera Nugular's angular ungulara.  UULATION.  Let the bitter fisherman speak.  I SHALL NOT STOP HIM.  Let the botter baker break his beaming.  I NEVER YET DETERRED HIM.  Let the scandalous sultriest sultanette slib her sluicer.  AM I ABLE TO WATCH THIS?  You are here, now, in the mud where war brings us, looking for letters, looking for die boog of natura.  EBB OF CURE US; DIE AN EASY US.  Greek tome.  Greek to me.  HAVE ANOTHER DRINK THEN.  BE BORN OF THE COMMON CARDIGAN, DEAR.  I'LL WEAVE YOU IN TO A WARP OR A WAVE.  MAKE YOU LIE DOWN WITH THE DOTER OF YOUR JOYCE.  Ahh, you understand a man's dreams.  REALLY, IT IS NOT I WHO AN WRITING THIS CRAZY BOOK.  IT IS YOU, AND YOU, AND YOU; AND THAT MAN OVER THERE; AND THAT GIRL AT THE NEXT TABLE.  Let it ride itself.  BUGGER BE DAMNED.  Let it rede itself, ride itself; rede itself, ride.  ONE WORD MOUNTS UPON ANOTHER AND BECOMES SEXUAL, IN A VERY GERMAN WAY.  Everclear man, lying in shallow water.  IS HE BREATHING YET?  That is never clear.  A WINTERLUDE OF FARTS.  Ahh, he's breathing out of his arse.  I knew he wasn't darth.  N'vader.  (CHUCKLECACKLECRACKLEBOB.)  Where did everone go?  I'M HERE.  No, everone elds.  THERE IS ONLY ME.  What, am I halosineating?  SIGN AND COSEIN.  GERMAN GLYPH.  Graph.  GRAPHING SKIN ON.  Remember how Crossmann became so thin.  He wighed no more than 160 pounds when he was dead, when he was exiled, writing the book that wrote itself, Converse Nations on a Buying Notion.  SOMETIMES A GREAT NATION; SOMETIMES NOT.  He took off his clothes when he died.  He became naked.  He lost all his weight.  YOU CANNOT GET IN TO THE NEXT WORLD AS A FAT MAN.  A gig ant here, a midge ant there.  AND NOW HE WEIGHS ABOUT THREE THOUSAND POUNDS.  Be prepared for him to stay, I'd say.  YES.  AND WHERE ARE THE GEOMS NOW?  WHERE HAS HE GONE?  Who?  GEE, I'M SORRY I FORGOT HIS NAME.  Are you writing comedy now, for the telly?  IT'S MOOPS.  There are no Moops, you jerk!  That's a mid's print!  YES.  VERY GOOD.  A NOT OF BARLEY.  What?  MJC:  Magic Just Comes.  I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  Moniker Joins Carnelly.  ONE NAME GETTING ON TOP OF THE OTHER; AND BECOMING SEGDUAL.  And offspring?  NUN.  ABORTED.  Ahh!  Secretsocietyofsaintssealmysoninthebookofthelivingandseeformethatmywifeandisurvivethisbyyourgoodgrace.  Amen.  ABROOTED.  BEFORE HE COULD SAVE THE FOBBER  Yes, I know.  NO ONE TO SAVE HIM NOW.  HE WILL HALF TO SAVE HYMN CELT.  On Newby Hill I see a cross.  On None Be Hill I shelled seed a crux.  CROOKSHANK, BEARDSLEY.  I don't.  UNDERSTAND.  DON'T STAND UNDER OLD BEARDSLEY OR HE'LL PRAUBREY TRY TO HIDE A GREAT WHITE SAUSAGE SOMEWHERE YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO LOOK, BANGERBOY.  Firecracker.  SLOPPY JALOPY.  Friezedried.  WOOL HE OR WON'T HE.  I believe you're out of your mind.  PRECAUGHTITSLY, MY DEAR WAD'S SON.  CAREFUL WHERE YOU HIDE THAT CLANKER.  SO THE POLICE DON'T COME SNOOBING 'ROUND.  Where are the udders?  IN CLADS, DOUGH NUT YOU REMEMBER?  EARNING 'BOUT ENTYMS.  Oh, yes.  Aunt Amberson Magnificat.  The shave of autumns.  GEO MEETS HIS METTRY AND SETS THE HOLED DOWN DOCKING.  What?  YOU'RE REFERRING TO MASTER SHAVER, I PRESUME.  Yes, Mister Shaver, of chemistry's menistry.  WED YOU RIVER BE HEARD WED ME OR TH'HAIR WED YOUR ORGASMFANTASMS -- LA DICK AND DA LIKE?  I'm nut sheared.  POOR EWE.  I'm knot shored.  OPERA GAVE ME A CLEW.   I'm net shared.  INTWO THE O'S HEN TENTACLES WITH THE HAIR SIRE HENS.  Perperhaps I should gogo.  KNOCKERS, KNOCKERS.  Who's dere dere?  DERRIERRE.  DERRIERRE.  Derrierre who?  DERRIERRE'S SO BLEACHED TO MAKE YOUR AQUA AIMED STANCE.  Fagotty McHaggity.  Queery Oblomearrity.  BETTER RUN NOW BEFORE HE POPS A CORK OF A QUESTION YOU CAN'T HAND HOLD, OLD BUTTMASTER.  Runtowhere?  NEG O SEA NATION.  Stink in due the body, sir.  To the plates where he canned find you crunching.  Salmon that you are.  A BORE IN GINNY.  OVER HAS BEEN -- SIN'S CONVERSION.  Mister Crossmann, are you creaming?  SIR?  Are you dreaming or only seeming so?  SLEEPING, WAS I?  I don't wish for you to turn the whole clads against me, Sleeping Johnny.  I may be boring but your snoring sure is warring with my lecturn.  LEGEND?  Interesting you should ask.  Etymology is from the Middle English 'legende' which is from the Middle French 'legende' and Medeival Latin 'legenda' -- not to be confused with 'agenda' -- which is from the Latin, feminine of 'legendus', gerundive of 'legere', to 'gather', 'select', 'read', akin to the Greek 'legein', to 'gather', 'say', 'logos speech', 'word', 'reason'.  AN OUTGROWTH OF 'LEX', WAS IT NOT?  Legs of Khan?  I think not.  It means a story coming down from the past -- often one regarded as historical even though not always verifiable.  Akin to myth.  Also, of course, legend means a caption on a map, symbols explaining the map, which, of course, tries to explain the territory.  THE PALM IS NUT THE HAIR OF TERRY.  Of course, Willhelmet, we would expect you to twist this innocent conversation into a discurse on masturbation, legendary stroker that you are.  BRAM STROKER.  Brain stoker.  YES, BE THAT AS IT MAY, I THINK WE WERE SPEAKING ABOUT ATOMS AND EVENTUALLY MOLECULES BEFORE WE WERE SO RUDELY INTRODUCED TO THE YOUNG CROSSMANN'S FEARS OF AND/OR DESIRES FOR CORNHOLING (YOU TALK IN YOUR SLEEP, YOUNG MAN!).  Cornholecopia.  YES, NEWMAN.  WE KNOW YOU'RE HERE.  BUT AWAY YOUR TWINKIES AND FRITOS OR YOU'LL GO POSTAL SOME DAY AND BLAME JUNK FOOD FOR OBLITERATING YOUR CONSCIENCE.  AND PLEASE CLOSE YOUR KNEES.  I CAN SMELL YOUR BREATH ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE -- (OH, SMELL THAT SMELL!).  YES.  MOLECULAR STRUCTURE.  THE GEOMETRICAL STRUCTURE THAT EXISTS BENEATH THE VERIFORMS OF NATURE.  THE MOLECULAR STRUCTURE OF ATOMS AND MOLECULES (FAMILIES OF ATOMS) IS SPECTACULARLY ORDERED.  GOD'S THOUGHTS, SOME PLATONISTS WOULD HAVE IT.  EINSTEIN TOO.  IT IS HARD TO ARGUE THAT BENEATH THE CHAOTIC EXTRAVAGANZA OF LIFE'S FORMALISMS, THERE IS A MATHEMATIC GENIUS OF ORDER.  Lux and Lex.  WHAT?  Collections of light.  That's what books are: collections of light.  THAT'S NOT WHAT THIS BOOK IS.  Yes.  Shh.  Not so loud.  FIAT LUX.  (The first slide appears.)  WHERE WERE WE, MISSED LA DICK?  Gems and rhinestones, Mister Shover.  (OH, I'LL BET YOU LIKE GEMS AND RHINESTONES.)  Yes.  Well, actually, Miss Large Dick, we are actually at germs and inheroveralls lightly.  WHAT?  Gems and minerals.  Gems and minerals: beauty macroscopic and microscopic.  Actually.  Let'sx look at our first slide.

 

                                               

 

Can any of you believe how common quartz could be so lovely, luscious really, on the inside?  So intricate.  A velvety labyrinthe of amusements.  WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT?  I think he likes you, Ava.  WHY WOULDN'T HE?  HE, AT LEAST, UMBERSTANDS WHAT A WOMAN IS REELY MADE FOR.   Several natural gemstones have the structure of common quartz or silica SiO2. Amethyst colours vary from 'Rose-de-France' to the deep purple of 'Siberian' amethyst, and other variations of quartz range from golden orange to sherry coloured Citrine, the green of Vermarine, to the pink and smokey quartzes.  IS MISTER CHAFER TALKING ABOUT WHAT I THINK HE'S TALKING ABOUT?  Quim?  Qimola?  PLEASE!  HE IS A DAY SENT MAN!  HE MAY THINK ABOUT IT -- BUT I DOUBT HE'D TALK OPENLY ABOUT IT, PUBICLY, IN FRONTAL OF ALL THESE IN NASCENT GIRLS.  A fine example of clear rock crystal is the 32 cm diameter "crystal ball" at the Smithsonian Institution . Fire Agate consists of microscopic quartz crystals that contain layers of tiny inclusions of other minerals, which produce a firelike iridescence. Opal contains microscopic amorphous close-packed silica spheres; white light is refracted and split into its constituent colours because the spheres are comparable in size to the wavelength of light.   HE'S TALKIGN ABOUT ROCK!  About his own stones, you mean!  NO!  Tell me there was no dappled attenders when he luged up Ava's skirt and said the mudjack words: 'Rose-de-France' with its deep Siberian purple collar.  QUIMOLA.  Has to be.  SHH!  THIS WILL BE ON THE TEST!  Feldspars or alkali aluminium silicates (Alkali)Al2Si2O8 are the most common minerals in the earth's crust. Feldspar gemstones have romantic names like Moonstone which reflects light in a distinctive shimmering phenomenon known as adularescence. Amazonite is an opaque light green to blue-green feldspar with a distinctive mottled or striated appearance. The structure consists of zeolite-like nets of (Al,Si)O4 corner connected tetrahedrae, with channels occupied by the blue alkali earth metals. Slide please.

 

                                               

 

ISN"T FELDSPAR A CHARACTER IN SHAKESPEARE?  Yes, I believe you're right.  OR WAS THAT HELDSPUR.  Or was it Goldspore?  OR WAS IT FOLDSAPART?  With moonstone silicates.  OH, YOUR ROMANCE IS SO TRIMVIAL.  Yes.  NOW, MISTER STAVER IS SUCH A MATURE MAN, A REGAL INTELLECTUAL.  Yes, we know.  We know you like older men.  YOU HAVE KNOWN A FEW NOW HAVEN'T YOU?  I could tell you stories.  TELL, THEN -- I WANT DETAILS.  Shh.  (Mi Wing is taking notes, wearing a blue skirt that shows her legs in fishnet stockings.)  (IT'S A SHAME SHE IS SO BOOKISH.  NOT THAT SHE DOESN'T HAVE LOOKS.  BUT WHERE IS HER HEAT, HER TEENAGE SENSE OF ROMANS?)  She's not spreading it, you mean.  SHE HAS NO CONSCIOUSNESS DOWN THERE.  Lucky for her.  AND FOR YOU.  Beryl or beryllium aluminum silicate Be3Al2Si6O18 provides many well known gems, including "sea-green" Aquamarine - coloured by the heat of volcanoes, Emerald - green from chromium content, and the most rare of all, Red Beryl from the Wah Wah Mountains of Utah.  Here the blue SiO4 corner connected tetrahedrae form alternate layers with green BeO4 tetrahedrae and purple AlO6 octahedrae. Note the zeolite-like channel surrounded by SiO4 tetrahedrae.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

CLEARLY, WE ARE HERE BECAUSE WE HAVE TO BE.  We need the grade.  So we won't have to come back to school next year with our pants down.  YOU ALMOST SAID 'BACK TO SCHOLL NEXT YEAR'.  ANDREAS SCHOLL.  What a mystery the unconscious mystery as old feefiefoefreud understood before thee.  WELL, IT'S EITHER HERE OR OUT IN THE GULAG DIGGING DIRT WITH OUR MUSCOVITES, LOOKING FOR LOST CORRESPONDENCES.  Analogies?  NO.  CORE RESPONDENTS.  Witnesses for the persecution?  YES.  PERHAPS.  I see.  That's why the  front-to-front are taking apart the blackyard out thar searching for Eve of Dents.   EVE OF DENSE?  Eve of dance and Eve of Tents.  PASSE COMPOSE, YOU MEAN?  Eve of sense; and Eve of hollow.  MUD MOUNT MUTE VASE.  Ceramic doramus.  EVEN HANDED WOMAN MAKING EVERYTHING EGAL LEGAL.  Non-regal.  COMMUNAL TRIBUNAL.  Protoblack Madonna.  YES.  BLACK MADONNA PRO ME THEUS.  Go ahead and serenade her, if you like her slanting fever.  Go ahead and make her smile grow, vertical and make her face glow.  WHO, ME?  Shhh.  WHISPER SOMETHING LOVING IN HER EAR.  SAY SOMETHING LIKE: 'YOU HAVE THE NICEST LOOKING A I'VE EVER SEEN.'  IF YOU GIVE HER AN A SHE WILL NEVER RESIST YOU.  I should tell her I like her diction.  YOU WANT HER TO TELL YOU SHE LIKES YOUR DICK, SON.  GO AHEAD, AND SWING.  But Night is a Cathedral where we recognized the sign.  We strangers know each other now as part of the whole design.  WHAT ARE YOU SINGING, VEGA STAR?  GIVE HER A SONG WITH BALLS IN IT.  WHAT IS IT WITH YOU, SINGING A WOMAN'S SONG?  With your mercury mouth in the missionary times -- and your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes -- and your silver cross, and your voice like chimes; oh, who among them do they think could bury you?  With your pockets well protected at last -- and your streetcar visions which you place on the grass -- and your flesh like silk, and your face like glass -- who among them do they think could carry you?  Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands -- where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes -- my warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums -- should I leave them by your gat -- or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?  (MI WING SMILES AT CROSSMANN A BASHFUL, CONFUSED SMILE.)  Idiot!  She doesn't understand sorrow.  She'll think you're dark.  You won't get in to her pants if she thinks you're a loser!  MISTER CROSSMANN?  ARE YOU WITH US TODAY?  Yes, of course, Mister Shuffler.  And we have been talking about what, Mister Crossmann?  ATOMIC STRUCTURE.  Yes.  But a bit more specifically.  (SILENCE. SILENT THOUGHT.)  (Mi Wing whispers: CHERSOBERYL.)  Jersey barrels.  WELL, AN INTERESTING WAY TO PUT IT.  AND WHAT ABOUT JERSEY BARRELS?  (Mi Wing whispers, behind her hand: BERYLLIUM ALUMINATE BEAL204 IS VERY HARD.)  Well, it's berry is very hard, very hard, indeed!  YES, MISTER CROSSMANN.  I'LL GIVE YOU AN E FOR EFFORT.  MS. WING, I'LL GIVE YOU A C FOR CHEATING.  AND MS. LA DICK, I'LL GIVE YOU AN A JUST FOR LOOKING SO ATTRACTIVE.  Nonce shall never be overt come completely.  TELL US ABOUT ALEXANDRITE, MISTER CHUBBLER.  Chrysoberyl or beryllium aluminate BeAl2O4 is very hard.  Alexandrite is the most famous variety; it was found on the birthday of Czar Alexander II of Russia. Cat's eye is translucent yellow-brown-green chrysoberyl containing fine silk-like inclusions that produce a distinctive chatoyance. The green BeO4 tetrahedrae sit at the apex of groups of three edge connected AlO6 octahedrae.  Next slide, please.

 

                                               

 

DANCING OCTAHEDRONS.  Octos?  Where?  SHE LOOKS LIKE A DANCING WOMAN IN A BIKINI.  No bikini atoll.  STEEL THEE FROM ROCKY AND BULLWINKEL THEN?  Silencio.  SHAKING HER CAN.  (SING HER A SONG SHE'LL LIKE -- SOMETHING THAT CAN TOUCH HER DEEPLY.  Mandy -- well you came and you gave without taking -- but I sent you away, oh Mandy -- well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking -- I need you today, oh Mandy.  (SHE SMILES WITH REAL INTEREST, TOUCHED BY THE LYRIC.)  She has that Yoko Ono look, John.  Move in on her. Lay her low.  Give her some more man of low nature.  Women love the presence of the man barely of low nature.  Give her a 'norther.  Sentimental barfly.  AND I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING WITH MY HAIR DOWN IN MY EYE; AND SHE SAYS: 'HI!'  AND I STUMBLE TO THE BREAKFAST TABLE WHILE THE KIDS ARE GOING OFF TO SCHOOL, 'GOODBYE!'  AND SHE REACHES OUT AND TAKES MY HAND; SHE SQUEEZES IT AND SAYS: 'HOW ARE YOU FEELING, HON'?'  AND I LOOK ACROSS AT SMILING LIPS THAT ALL I'VE GOT TO SAY: AND GOD DIDN'T MAKE THE LITTLE GREEN APPLES, AND IT DON'T RAIN IN INDIANAPOLIS IN THE SUMMERTIME.  AND THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS DOCTOR SEUSS, DISNEYLAND AND MOTHER GOOD; THERE'S NO NURSERY RHYME.  (She has tears in her eyes.  It's working.)  GOLD SPARROW DID YOU SAY?  OR FELLED SPARK?  OR SHELLED PARROT?  Bread and butter.  (SHE'S IN LOVE NOW.  GET HER ALONE; AND GIVE HER CANDY.  HERE, TAKE MY CAR.)  Am I interrupting something?  Excuse me?  (BUT HER PUSSY'S SO WET.  AND SHE'S SO YOUNG.  AND HER NAME IS G - L - O - R - I - A.  I'M GOING TO SHOUT IT ALL NIGHT.  Shh.  Sing something nicer.  That's solewd.)  I FOUND A DIARY UNDERNEATH A TREE.  AND STARTED READING ABOUT ME.  THE WORDS SHE'D WRITTEN TOOK ME BY SURPRISE; YOU'D NEVER READ THEM IN HER EYES.  THEY SAID SHE'D FOUND THE LOVE SHE'D WAITED FOR.  WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT; SHE WOULDN'T SHOW IT.  (She has tears in her eyes.  She clearly loves you.)  EXCUSE ME, MISTER SLOUGHER.  I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DISTURBANCE.  Are you crying dear?  NO.  I HAVE SOMETHING IN MY EYE.  A letter?  PARDON?  Was it a letter you read that did this to you?  NO.  I HAVE SOMETHING IN MY EYE.  PLEASE GO ON.  Garnet or calcium aluminum silicate Ca3Al2(SiO4)3 occurs in almost all colours except blue, but garnets are generally dark brown or purple-red.   (BROWN AGAIN!)  (The colours used to illustrate these structures have nothing to do with the colours of the gemstones of course; gemstone colours are mainly due to defects or impurities!). Bohemian Garnet was very popular in the jewelry of the late 19th century. In this structure the dark blue sodium cations are sitting in holes in the corner connected net of AlO6 octahedrae and SiO4 tetrahedrae.  Slide. 

 

                                               

 

You will notice the increased complexity of the structure.  Progressively complex structures seems to be the process or pattern of molecular composition.  (REMEMBER, THE LABYRINTH IS NOT A MAZE.  THE MAZE IS A PUZZLE THAT SEEKS TO GET YOU LOST.  THE LABYRINTH IS A MEDITATIVE PROCESSION LEADING EVER IN TO THE CENTER AND BACK OUT AGAIN IN A STEADY PROGRESSIVE MEDITATIVE PROMENADE.  Is that what this is?  A labyrinth?  Or is this a maze?  ASK OUR FRIEND, THE SCIENTIST.  Cool brick labyrinthe.  MORE ABSINTHE?  HERE DRINK.  GET THE GIRL TO DRINK WITH YOU.  SHE'LL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.  SHE'LL BE AS WILD AS A HEAVENLY BORE FULLY PLANTED.)  Jadeite or sodium aluminum silicate NaAl(Si2O6) may occur with many diffrent colours including white, green, yellow, red, orange, violet, and black jade. It is also very hard and tough. The finest green Imperial Jade, especially prized in China for carving, is very rare and expensive.  Again the blue sodium cations sit in holes in an edge connected net of silica and alumina.  Next slide, please.

 

                                               

 

BLACK VIRGIN; BLACK JADE.  Princess of the minaret.  WHAT?  You heard me.  YES -- BUT WHAT WAS THE IMPLICATION?  The implication of the minuet?  YOU DID NOT SAY 'MINUET' -- YOU SAID 'MINARET'.  FROM THE FRENCH FROM THE TURKISH 'MINARE', FROM THE ARABIC 'MAN ARAH', 'LIGHTHOUSE'.  The prayer powertower.  THE PRAYER HOURTOWER BLOWN DOWN.  UNEXPECTEDLY.  TWO BIRDS RIDING A CURRENT OF FIRE.  It's not a muezzin.  WHAT'S NOT AMUSING?  Your callous ob broach to trajectory.  CALL US WHAT?  RATE SAIDST NAMES?  Minor-et.  SMALLER AND SMALLER.  I was in the pool!  Shrinkage!  Don't you know about shrinkage!  LESS AND LESS SIGNIFICAT.  Coral mosaic, sung in twelve small dancing vicos.  FROM THE FRENCH 'MENUET', FROM OBSOLETE FRENCH, 'TINY', FROM OLD FRENCH, 'MENU SMALL', FROM LATIN, 'MINUTUS'.  Velly small.  BELLY SMALL.  Good thing.  Have you kissed her yet.  KISSED HER IN THE PRIVATE PARK.  Hair parted?  THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT.  I kidsed heer in the paidshouldst plot.  PREDSHOULDST?  PALT?  Shh.  She's looking.  DIG UP ANOTHER TEAR-JERK, ME BOY.  THEY ALWAYS WORT.  LOOK AT HER SKIRT.  SHE'S EXPOSING MORE OF HER LAKE NOW -- SHE LIKES YOU GOOD.  YES, POINT YOUR TOE, 3/4 TIME, BOW DOWN SOFTLY.  AHH, RELAX, GO TO IT, IF YOU WANNA GET THROUGH IT; RELAX, GO TO IT, IF YOU WANNA....  Comet in your hair!  WHAT?  WHAT DID YOU SAY?  Uhh, comet.  It's like there's a comet in your hair, you look so lovely, light reflecting on your forehead.  Probly gold's borrowed there or something.  Gold borrowed from the sun, left falling on your cheek, on your soft brown hair.  OH, THAT'S SO SWEET.  SO POLETIC.  BLANCHE.  EVERYONE IS WALTZING YOU.  MINT OF DEBT.  Olivine or Peridot is magnesium iron silicate (Mg,Fe)(SiO4) and ranges from yellow to green. The Navajo Reservation in New Mexico and Arizona is a major supplier. Chains of green (Mg,Fe) octahedrae bridged by silica tetrahedra are interleaved between layers of brown (Mg,Fe) octahedrae.

 

                                               

 

THERE IS THAT BROWN AGAIN.  Why this sobsession with irreal rocks and maninerals?  TOPSAWYERS ROCKS BY THE STREAM OCONEE.  Petty deaft.  ANSWER THE QUESTION YOURSELF.  What do stones and mindinareals have to do with the expressions 'getting your rocks off' and 'a man has got to have stones of steel'.  WHAT?  GARLIC?  Fallic Or FarLick or Gallic, you mean.  GO NADS?  Indubitably.  Gen-gen-generation.  TALKING 'BOUT MY GENERATION - PETER SINGS.  PETER, HIMSELF, BEING BOTH THE TOWN AND THE TOWN BUILT ON THE SELFSAME ROCK.  Yes, well songs do little to expand my appreciation of your wit, unlike the Chinese girl at your side.  STONE, FROM THE MIDDLE ENGLISH, FROM THE OLD ENGLISH  stAn, AKIN TO OLD HIGH GERMAN, 'STEIN' (STONE), OLD CHURCH SLAVONIC 'STENA' (WALL), AND PERHAPS TO SANSKRIT  styAyate ('IT HARDENS').  It hardens.  YES.  IT IS A GEM, A WHETSTONE, A WHITESTONE AND A GRINDINNGSTONE.  Black Ka'aba.  IT IS SOMETHING RESEMBLING A SMALL STONE, LIKE THE HARD CORE OF A DRUPACEOUS FRUIT, SUCH AS A PEACH.  Calculus calculorem.  IT IS ALSO A GRAVESTONE -- SO IT IS THE FOUNDATION AND ALSO THE CULMINATION.  Fist and fast.  LIST AND LOST.  Fartst and furst.  FAUST, YOU MEAN?  A seed; a stony seed.  A WEIGHT OF MEASURE.  A MAN IS SAID TO WEIGH SO MANY STONES.  THE IMPLICATION IS THAT HE IS COMPOSED OF STONES AND THAT HE WILL RETURN TO STONES.  Once ground down again.  AND ONCE WET AGAIN.  Mud, then?  SAID A MENTARY.  It is a weapon for killing.  AND SOMETHING YOU GET FROM SMOKING SOMETHING.  Getting stoned.  HERE, HAVE A TOKE.  And return to the condition of a stone, unable to talk, hungry all the time, dreaming, vats.  IT COMPOSES AN ALTAR, SO IT IS AN ELEMENT OF WORSHIP.  A seed in a fruit.  TESTES.  UTTER OR ABSOLUTE.  The speaking stone.  THE BIZARRE STONE IN THE BELLY.  Give the woman your stones.  SHE'S SITTING CLOSER TO YOU.  Bezoar Stone.  FROM THE MIDDLE FRENCH, FROM MEDIEVAL LATING, FROM ARABIC DIALENT 'BEZUWAR', FROM ARABIC 'BAZAHR', FROM PERSIAN 'PADZAHR' FROM 'PAD' (PROTECTING AGAINST) AND 'ZAHR' (POISON): ANY OF VARIOUS CALCULI FOUND CHIEFLY IN THE GASTRONINTESTINAL ORGANS AND FORMERLY BELEIVED TO POSSESS MAGICAL PROPERTIES TO WARD OFF DANGER.  Check his stool for magical elements.  URIM AND THUMMIM.  Banging stones bezoar to produce light and fire.  CORNERSTONE KIDNEYSTONE.  Philosopher's stone; pudding stone; Rosetta stone; stepping ston; stone-blind; stone canal; stone cell; stone china; stone-cold; stone crab; stone-deaf; stone-faced; stone fly; stone fruit; stone-ground; stone roller; stone wall; Stone Age; Big Stone, Stone Mountain.  GROUND STONE.  GROUNDSTONE.  Steato, Greek from 'steat (stear) and perhaps akin to Sanskrit 'StyAyate' (it hardens): reference to fat.  FAT HARDENS.  Have another toccare, Bogart.  BROOM TOKER.  DRUG YOU LAW.  Mung cheese.  THE LATIN 'TESTES' MEANING 'WITNESS'.  Witness to history; witness to the ages.  TEST TOSSED 'TERRED STONES.  (Mi Wing, looking at her notes.  WELL? A hormone that is a hydroxy steroid ketone C[19]H[28]O[2] produced especially by the testes or made synthetically and that is responsible for inducing and maintaining male secondary sex characters.)  YES, TOPSAWYERS ROCKS.  TOM IS ON THE TOP, FOR HE IS SHAUN; AND HUCK IS ON THE BOTTOM, FOR HE IS SHEM.  Do you have a slide of this?  (MI BLUSHES.)  (Slide your hand over herE and I'll let you touch a topsawyer's rock -- a phad that hardens.)  (MI BLUSHES A ROSE MADDER RED.  A measure of acidity and alkalinity of a solution that is a number on a scale on which a value of 7 represents neutrality and lower numbers indicate increasing acidity and higher numbers increasing alkalinity and on which each unit of change represents a tenfold change in acidity or alkalinity and that is the negative logarithm of the effective hydrogen-ion concentration or hydrogen-ion activity in gram equivalents per liter of the solution; also: the condition represented by a pH number.)  TOP SAWYER ON BOTTOM SAWYER LAWYER.  Rogs bearing up on each under and begooing sexual.  (CONSECTUAL MORE AGES ARE MAKING HER WELT.  KEEP IT UP!  YOU'LL STRIKE PAYDIRT!)  Singing: When confronted with the writing there -- she simply pretended not to care.  I passed it off as just in keeping with her total disconcerting air -- and though she tried to hide the love that she denied -- wouldn't you know it: she wouldn't show it.  And as I go through my life, I will give to her, my wife, all the sweet things I can find.  (SHE SMILES A TOUCHED SMILE.  THE SONG IS SO SAD.)  (It is ok to sing a sad song; it is not ok to be a sad sack.)  (YES.)  Woks every time.  SAID ACTION MOVED HER GLANDS.  Secrets shone, under lates.  SQUIRM SQUIRM.  Evergreen idches.  SQUIRM SQUIRM.  Squirt in britches.  (PICKING UP HER PEN.  HOLDING IT FIRMLY, LIKE AN OLD FRIEND.)  Pyrite or fools gold is just iron sulphide FeS2. Pyrite was polished by the Native Americans in the early times and used as a mirror. Today, it is used as an ornamental stone, and sometimes as gemstone. The usual co-ordination polyhedrae drawn here do not emphasise the most interesting aspect of the structure: in fact the sulphur atoms occur as homopolar pairs, and the pyrite structure is best described as a distorted rock salt packing of Fe and S-S pairs.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

HOMOPOLAR PAIRS!  DO YOU THINK HE'S TALKING ABOUT US?  Do not go too deeply, Freut.  You go too far to the core and you find either the Philosopher's Stone or you find Plato bent over with a distorted rock sal packing of Fe and S-S pairs rammed up his bauxite truce ears.  YOU'RE LOOKING IN A MIRROR TOO CLOSELY, RUNNING WATER.  Have one too many friends, Sitting Bill.  SHH!  THIS IS A CLASS, YOU TWO!  WE'RE TRYING TO STAKE NODES.  Of course you are.  FOLDS GOULD: IS IT A BAD HABIT OR A MOVEMENT?  Check the Bazaar Stone: see if its certified.  BACKDOOR MAN, DON'T HURRY; TAKE YOUR TIME; DON'T WORRY.  KNOW HERE MAN, THE WHIRRLED ARE ADD YOU'VE COMMAND.  (She less impressed with homoerotic songs, manzehr.)  DOWN HERE, IN THE DEEP HOLE, WHERE THERE IS NO LIGHT, MANY FRIARS COAL LESS.  Are you keeping your eyes open; or just trying to breathe?  JUST TRYING TO BREED.  AND IT IS NOT EASY IN THIS CONDITION.  Morph morph.  MOARED MORT.  THE BOAT ISN'T MOVING.  Where is that damned Charon?  YOU KNOW, THE MORE I HEAR YOU THE MORE I'M REMINDED OF ROBIN WILLIAMS.  AND THAT ISN'T GOOD.  Mortimer, you mean?  Mortimer Shanty.  PERHAPS.  PERHAPS HANDY.  Tricked Tom Shandy.  MORT -- AS IN MORT DEAD -- MORE LIKELY.  Mort: from the Middle English 'mot' (horn note), from the Middle French 'mot' (word): a note sounded on a hunting horn when a deer is killed.  ACT AEON.  MORTALITY IS THINE AIM.  Go slow -- she's losing interest.  TELL HER A SCIENCE JOKE -- QUICK, BEFORE YOU LOSE HER!  Mortimer Snide: a great quantity or number.  Like: My, may I count the mort public hairs clotting your vaginal area while we wade for this bust?  WHAT?  You're lucky she din tear at that!  OH, NUT THING.  (She smiles.)  WHAT DO YOU CALL A COMMUNAL PERCUSSION INSTRUMENT IN A CONVENT?  (She smiles:  I DON'T KNOW.)  A conundrum.  (OH, VERY SMART!  THAT'S THE KIND OF SMART HUMOR THAT WILL WIN A GIRL LIKE HER, WITH A MIND!  DON'T DUMM IT DOWN FOR THE MASSES!  KEEP THE HUMOR SMART!  MAKE THE WORLD COME UP TO YOUR LEVEL OF UNDERSTANDING!)  I don't get it.  WHAT!  I don't get it.  WELL, YOU HAVE TO BREAK IT DOWN INTO SYLLABLES: CO NUN DRUM.  Oh, I get it (she smiles, embarassed).  SYLLABLES ARE THE ATOMIC PARTS OF LANGUAGE.  WE FUSE SYLLABLES TOGETHER MAKING COMPOUNDS AND MOLECULTES.  WORDS MOUNTING UP ON EACH OTHER AND BECOMING...CONTEXTUAL.  What?  A METAPHOR.  I don't speak metaphoric.  NO, MOST PEOPLE DON'T.  Isn't that an archaic language -- a debt language, like Latin?  YES, I'M AFRAID IT IS.  Didn't they find some Shakespearean plays in that dig outside, in archaeology.  YES.  POETRY IS THE FOSSILIZED THOUGHT OF OUR ANCESTORS.  I don't understand poetry very well.  WHO DOES?  (Keep talking!  But no more jokes, Mister Sediment.)  (SAD ACTION LOSING STEAM.  BREADING BREEDING BEADING UNDER VATER:)  I found her diary underneath a tree -- and started reading about me.  The words began to stink and tears to flow.  Her meaning now was clear to see.  The love she'd waited for was someone else not me.  Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it.  And as I go through my life, I will wish for her, his wife, all the sweet things that she can find.  IS THAT A SONG ABOUT ADULTERY?  I HATE ADULTERERS!  Oh, yes -- me too.  (BAD IDEA!)  What's it about?  WELL, IT'S ABOUT A MAN WHO....FINDS OUT HE DOESN'T SATISFY HIS GIRLFRIEND.  SHE REALLY LOVES SOMEONE ELSE.  Oh. I like happy endings.  (DAMN!)  Pyrite is often wrongly called Marcasite.  Although Marcasite has the same FeS2 composition as Pyrite, it is a quite different mineral, and is not suitable for gem use because it powders and eventually disintegrates upon exposure to air. Again, the co-ordination polyhedrae are misleading: the marcasite structure can be described as a distorted BCC packing of Fe and S-S homopolar pairs; this is very clear from the 3D VRML drawing. Slide please

 

                                               

 

SLIDE!  FASTER!  FASTER!  What's your problem?  HE'S MAKING THAT 'S-S HOMPOLAR PAIRS' CRACK AGAIN!  I THINK HE'S SAYING THAT JUST TO GET AT US!  What?  I think you need to slow down.  DO YOU THINK PEOPLE THINK WE'RE QUEERS -- BECAUSE WE'RE NOT MARRIED?  What?  QUEERS -- YOU KNOW, HOMOPOPULAR PEARS?  Gay and Light, you mean? Quark and slight?  No.  We're brothers -- how can brothers be queer.  LOOK AT NILES AND FRASIER!  PEOPLE THIOUGHT THAT ABOUT THEM!  AND WHAT ABOUT CALIGULA?  Oh -- did he caligulate a brother then?  WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?  Bundles of dicks -- ahh, bung holes of sticks -- ahh, foggot the subject rearly.  SS homogobular parts, I think.  DID YOU REALIZE THAT MANY OF THE SS IN THE GERMAN ARMY IN WORLD WAR II WERE HOMOSEXUALS.  HITLER, HIMSELF, WAS....HE APPRENTLY TOOK IT....HIS TEA, THAT IS, REGULARLY AT NIGHT, WITH HIS CLOSE COMPANION, RUDE DOLPH HEADS.  You're sweating.  Are you alright?  It's ok with me if you're gay.  I have a lot of gay friends.  GAY!  NO!  I WAS RAISED CATHOLIC, THAT'S ALL.  THAT'S WHY I SWEAT A LOT.  I CAN SHOW YOU I'M NOT GAY.  WHY, LOOK: I'VE HAD A BIG HEALTHY REACTION JUST FROM LOOKING AT YOUR BARE NAKED LEGGIES TODAY.  AND THINKING ABOUT YOU MOANING LOVE-BITS IN BROKEN CHINESE.  (She looks down past his notebook shyly.)  MONOLITH.  Monolith, from the French 'monolithe' (consisting of a single stone), from Lating 'monolithus' (one stone).  A single grat stone often in the form of an obelish or a column; a massive structure; an organized whole that acts as a single unified powerful or influential force.  REALLY, YOU LIKE MY LEGS.  I ALWAYS THOUGHT THEY WERE SORT OF BLOCKY.  It's not where the legs end but where the legs start that matters.  OH, YOU'RE SO SWEET.  THAT'S SUCH ANUS THOUGHT.  A NICE THOUGHT.  HERE, DO YOU WANT A PIECE OF CHOCOLATE.  (Shocked lot?  Better be careful.  She's an inscrutable Oriental.)  I THINK SHE'S BECOMING TOTALLY SCRUTABLE.  SHE SMELLS SO GOOD.  LIKE MARIGOLD AND ANISE, MIXED UP IN A SWEET BOWL.  Fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake; eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and owlet's wing, for a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble.  I KNOW YOU DON'T WANT ME TO FIND LOVE.  IF I FIND LOVE, NO ONE WILL BE HERE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.  AND YOU'LL HAVE TO WORK FOR A LIVING LIKE EVERYBODY DO.  (I didn't hear that.  If I don't listen, then a tree won't fall in the forest.)  LAZYBONES, SLEEPING IN THE SHADE.   HOW'D Y'EXPECT TO GET YOUR CORNMEAL MADE.  YOU'LL NEVER GET YOUR CORNMEAL MADE, NOW THAT YOU'VE RE-BECOME A SHADE.  (If I don't listen, I won't have to admit I'm shaking.)  ID'S ORE FEAR THAT THEY WILL THINK YOU QUID, NOT MINED.  Mining for fears?  Yes, give me that hardhat with the lap mounted on the brow.  LAMP, YOU MEAN -- YOU SAID LAP.  Oh, Freudian slit.  SLIT?  I THINK YOU MEAN SLIP.  I'd love to see your slip.  I dildn't think you erred wearing one.  NO (SHE PULLS UP HER SKIRT SHOWING ONLY HER AMBER PANTIES TO THE BOY) -- I'M NOT WEARING A SLEEP TOO LONG.  DO YOU WANT TO TOUCHEE IT?  What?  THE REEL THING.  The eel thing?  IT'S SCHLEPPERY WIND WET.  EYE WILL TOUCH YOUR EEL IF YOU WILL DUTCH MY SEALANT.  A stone rolled into the mouth of a tomb.  MONOLITH ROLLED INTO THE ETH OF A WOMB.  I love you.  WHAT?  I love you.  I 'm closing my eyes.  BUT YOU'LL MISS THE SLIDES.  I hope not.  You can slide it in when I sleep.  I promise not to wake all too mudge.  WARM FUDGE.  Mister Crossmann, are you paying attention?  HARDON ME?  Are you paying attention?  You seem to be knotting off.  (KNOCKING OFF IS MORE ELIDE IT.)  (AH!  FROM THE LATIN, 'E' AND  'LAEDERE', TO INJURE BY STRIKING.  IS IT SOUP YET, MISTER HANDMADE FIRECRACKER?  DON'T GO OFF IN HERE AND CREATE STARS ON THE CEILING!  THIS ISN'T A PLANETARIUM, AFTERALL!)  Are you tired?  NO.  SOME NAME; BLUE LAMP.  Pardon?  DATE REAM.  DAY TRIM.  DEI TRIUM.  The Trinity.  I didn't know you were religious?  (LOOKING AT HER LEGS AGAIN.)  Ruby is the best known form of the mineral Corundum Al2O3, which is second only to diamond in hardness. Red Rubies from the Mogok area of Burma are the most prized of gemstones, and stones over 2 carats are rare and expensive. Large Blue Sapphires, which are also corundum, are similarly rare and expensive, but smaller stones are more common and popular. Corundum is industrially important as an abrasive, and ruby for fine bearings and lasers ! In corundum, pairs of face-sharing AlO6 octahedrae are linked by edge sharing, stacking along the c-axis. The octahedrae are needed to satisfy the valence of Al+++, and the face, edge or corner sharing arrangements are then required to satisfy the formula Al2O3. Slide, please, of corundum.

 

                                               

 

AHH, FACE-SAVING OCTAHEDRAE.  I THINK THE ACCUSATIONS OF PEDERASTRY OR SODOMY HAVE PASSED.  Face-sharing; not face-saving.  I have it, here, in my notes.  CONUNDRUM: A RIDDLE WHOSE ANSWER IS OR INVOLVES A PUN.  Involves some pain, I think.  Not wishing to look too closedly at a polish stone or Jim.  GUILT, YOU MEAN.  There is enough here for all of us.  I AM REPREHENSIBLE ONLY FOR WAD I'M DUE.  And what about the farther's sins?  LET HIM EAT HIS OWN SIN SANDWICH.  WE ALL HAVE TO ANSWER ALEX TREBEC IN THE END.  Which an answer in the form of a question?  THAT IS THE CONUNDRUM, ISN'T IT?  (Do you have a condum?)  WHAT?  (Do you have a condum?)  WELL, YES.  WHY DOES THAT INTEREST YOU?  I am a modern woman capable of love.  I have passions, needs.  I am a sexual creature, a being.  And my husband isn't giving me what I really need.  I SEAT.  YOU ARE MARRIED.  You never noticed me when I was single.  Didn't you notice this gold band on my finger?  IT'S SO DARK IN HERE.  I keep a diary too.  And I've been writing in it for many years -- about you.  I'm very horny -- I 'm as horny as a toad.  I want to get down on my knees right here -- and you can get up beind me and you can be the bullwinkel moose for me.  MISTER CROSSMANN?  Yes, Mister Slaver.  ARE YOU ALRIGHT?  YOU SEEMED TO BE MAKING ANIMALS NOISES?  Oh, sorry.  A long need last nought.  You know?  YES.  WELL.  (Looking at Mi Wing's finger.  No gold.  But a big stone: Diedmonde.)  STONEY DECOY?  Zircon or zirconium silicate Zr(SiO4) was often used as a substitute for  diamond in jewlery. Zircons in nature may be blue, yellow, green, red, brown or orange as well as colourless. Reddish-brown zircons are often heat-treated to produce blue or golden yellow gems.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

(POINTING AT THE RING:  Sore cunny mound?  So lick it.  Oh, reddish-brown sore cunts.)  PARDON ME?  Are you so engaged?  EVE OF DENTLY.  Yes.  Next stemmed member.  AHH.  Any chains that I cold be prenupts stemmed member?  WHAT?  Are you doing anything for dinner?  AH, PROBABLY EATING.  BUT I'LL HAVE TO CHECK MY SCHEDULE.  Oh, modern woman with novel inside.  (SHORT DAWNED AGAIN.  I MOUGHT HAVE NONED IT.)  Precollegiate numbulants.  TRY A LUBRICANT NEXT TIME. What?  ISN'T ZIRCONIUM SILICATE USED AS AN INDUSTRIAL LUBRICANT SEEM TIMES?  (Looking at her notes:) No, I think that's carbon graphite.  YES.  I THINK YOU'RE RIGHT.  Topaz or hydroxy-aluminium silicate Al2(SiO4)(OH)2 is often found in huge crystals. Natural pink and red material is rare, and fine orange-yellow Imperial Topaz is relatively scarce. Common colorless material is irradiated and heat-treated to produce blue gems resembling aquamarine. This is another alumino-silicate with linked SiO4 tetrahedrae and AlO6 octahedrae, but some of the alumina oxygen are actually hydrated. Since hydrogen atoms are difficult to see with x-rays (neutrons are needed), hydrogen atoms were often missed in early mineral structures.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

HYDROGEN IS INVISIBLE!  DID YOU HEAR THAT!  Aren't all the elements invisible?  WELL, YES.  BUT HYDROGEN IS MORE INVISIBLE.  SUPRAMAN WOULDN'T EVEN BE ABLE TO SEE HYDROGEN.  Apparently that's why he had so much trouble with women.  PERHAPS.  Doesn't it make you depressed?  They show us all these gemstones; they speak of so much jewelry.  How will we ever be able to afford a wife?  We have no money.  MONEY COMES WHEN IT'S NEEDED.  No one will marry a couple bums like us.  That's why I want to live the bum's life -- because I don't want any money.  If I don't want it and I don't have it I will he happy.  That is the secret of happiness: wanting what you have; not in having what you want.  SO DREAMING AND TRYING TO ACHIEVE A DREAM IS WHAT...?  The cause of all pain.  NOW YOU'RE BEGINNING TO SOUND LIKE BUDDHA.  I am Buddha!  Yes, I am Buddha!  I will desire nothing.  And, desiring nothing, I will be full.  (FULL OF LOW STEW!)  But is the point of life only to avoid life?  Or is it to be pummelled by life, to be penetrated by life?  CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY!  I AIN'T NO QUIDDER!  Of course not.  But that is the exact east-west dilemma.  The east says that life is bad; and to avoid life is good.  And the west says that life is good; and death is bad.  YES.  I AM SAYING THAT DEATH IS GOOD.  DEATH IS GOOD -- AND I'M GOING TO SHOW IT TO YOU!  I AM GOING TO HAVE YOU EAT SOME OF THIS NAGUAL SOUP, COOKED UP BY A FAT MEXICAN CHEF, NAMED LUCERO, I THINK, OR IS IT CASTLE NADA?  I DON'T REMEMBER.  ANYWAY, HERE, TAKE A BITE.  IT WILL TAKE AWAY YOUR CHEERFULNESS, YOUR POSITIVITY, YOUR BELIEF IN LOVE AND THE FUTURE.  POSITIVITY IS THE ENEMY AFTERALL.  IT IS THE CAUSE OF ALL VIOLENCE AND GREED AND DESTRUCTION ON THE EARTH.  (Are you streaming again?)  NO, IT IS TRUTH.  EDOM, FROM THE GREEK 'ETYMOS' MEANING 'TRUTH'.  Denude Atta.  WHAT?  THE QUIM WITH QUOITS?  THE SNATCH WITH LATCHKEYS?  THE MUFF WITH MOLARS?  Denude Atta.  (MOTHER, PUT SOME CLOSE ON.)  Aloft, I see.  WELL?  Well we now know that failure is success and success is failure.  And that death is better than life.  I WON'T BE TRICKLED.  By illusions, you mean.  YES.  BY ALLEGIANCE.  But your ideology, too, is an ill legion.  An all lesion in the world of.  YES, I NO -- ANDY MARTYR.  Yes.  We all know that by now.  We all know your conception of the twin twoers.  (SHE'S GETTING AWAY FROM YOU.  BETTER THINK OF SOMETHING TO STAY.)  Neutrons are needed to fashion visibility.  To the axe ray.  PARDON ME.  There is a mystical meaning in this.  I DON'T BELIEVE IN MYSTICISM.  I AM A SCIENTIST.  Science is mysticism.  (OH, DON'T SAY THAT!)  That's...not true.  Mystics are insane.  That's what Mister Svapor told me.  He said we need to clean up the streets by putting all the missed sticks in the sanitarytorium -- get them out of silt and out of mined.  WELL, DO YOU THINK THAT I SHOULD BE PLACED IN A SANDY TORY ROOM?  If you are a mud stuck, then I believe I do.  (SIGN. SIGH.)  (An uncomfortable silence.)  YES, PERHAPS YOU ARE RIOT.   Spinel or magnezium aluminium silicate MgAl2O4 has often been confused with ruby and sapphire, and some famous large "rubies," such as the Black Prince's Ruby and the Timur Ruby in the British Crown Jewels are actually spinels.  The spinel structure is similar to that of magnetite Fe3O4, with Mg++ occupying the terahedral holes and Al+++ the octahedral sites.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

(I THINK YOU'RE A BIT DARK.  YOU'RE A KIND OF BLACK PRINCE YOURSELF.  BUT I DON'T LIKE IT ALL THAT MUCH.  I DON'T WANT DARKNESS.  I WANT LIGHT.  IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN SEEING ME, IN DATING ME, EVEN THOUGH I AM ENGAGED, OFFICIALLY, EVEN THOUGH I DO HAVE THIS STONE ON MY FINGER, WHICH DOES SIGNIFY POSSESSION BY ANOTHER HUMAN BEING -- MAKING IT A KIND OF FOUNDATION STONE -- OR PERHAPS EVEN A GRAVE STONE -- YOU SEE, I CAN BE DARK TOO -- I WILL PROBABLY SAY YES TO GOING ON A DATE WITH YOU IF YOU PROMISE ME NOT TO BE DARK, BUT TO BELIEVE IN POSITIVE THINGS LIKE MARRIAGE AND SUCCESS AND HEALTH AND PROSPERITY.  I'LL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT BROTHER OF YOURS WHO IS ONLY TRYING TO PULL YOU DOWN IN THE HOLE THAT HE'S IN.  THERE SHELL BE BEDOUIN US AN ENMITY THAT WILL NOT ABATE.)  He's not in any hole.  That's his problem.  HE HAS CHOSEN THE WAY OF CELIBACY.  BUT THAT IS A CURSE ON THE EARTH.  THAT IS HONORIING, INSTEAD OF THE EARTH'S FERTILITY, THE EARTH'S BARRENNESS, THE EARTH'S DEATH.  WINTER.  BETTER THAN HE PUT HIS JACKHAMMER IN SOME PRETTY GIRL'S HOLE AND GIVE HER THE VITALITY THAT SHE WANTS, THE SEED OF FERTILITY THAT BRINGS GOOD LUCK TO THE PERSON AND TO THE WOOLOLD.  Throw your stones into the earth and watch the grow, Mister Cadmus.)  MISTER CUM SAD.  Speculative philosophy.  (DOES THIS MEAN YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME?  We'll see about that.  First things first.  WHY DO YOU LIKE ME?  Because you are an angel of light.  AND YOU CAN SEE THIS?  Yes, of course.  Don't you understand that God sends women to men when he is pleased with them.  God sends brides to men through the intercession of his ancestors.  REALLY?  THAT IS A VERY MYSTICAL IDEA.  AND YOU REALIZE THIS?  Yes, of course.  (SHE'S HOOKED NOW.  NOW IT'S TIME TO REEL HER IN.)  Of course, we have been looking at the internal structure of these minerals.  The microcosm.  But the beauty of these structures also emanates without.  Let's look at slides of the physical nature of some of these gems to get a sense of how the beauty radiates out in to form.  Slide, please

 

                                               

 

The first slide is of olivette (or peridot).  Major suppliers are the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico and Arizona, Burma, Egypt (Zebirget), Burma, Mexico, Norway, and Kenya. Small stones are abundant and inexpensive, but large, fine stones are scarce and moderately expensive.  Next slide.

 

                                               

 

Topaz.  Topaz is often found in huge crystals. Natural pink and red material is rare. Fine orange-yellow material (Imperial topaz) is relatively scarce. Abundant colorless material is irradiated and heat-treated to produce blue material resembling aquamarine. Next slide.

 

                                   

 

Zircon.  Zircon , when properly cut, produces lively, brilliant gems. Before the advent of manmade diamond simulants, colorless zircon was often used as a substitute for diamond . Large, fine zircons are scarce. Reddish-brown stones are often heat-treated to produce blue, colorless, and golden yellow, and the color change is stable.   Next slide.

 

                                               

 

Quartz.  In this case, Amethyst.  Amethyst is purple quartz and is one of the most popular gemstones. It varies from pale lavender ("Rose-de-France" amethyst) to deep purple with red highlights ("Siberian" amethyst). Amethyst is generally abundant and quite inexpensive (pennies to a few dollars per carat), although fine, large Siberian amethyst is rather scarce and may command prices of several tens of dollars per carat. When exposed to strong sunlight for extended periods, amethyst may fade in color. Recently, gem markets have been flooded with inexpensive synthetic amethyst. Although such synthetics can usually be identified by testing for twinning, routine testing is not cost-effective, and some new synthetics do not show the twinning effect.  Slide.

 

 

                                     

 

Sapphires.  My favorite.  One of the most popular gemstones in its blue colors. Very dark grayish or greenish stones are abundant, as are heat-treated stones. Grayish 'geuda' is routinely heat-treated to improve color and clarity and provides the bulk of the sapphires seen today. Fine blue stones over 5 carats are rare and valuable.  Another highly prized variety is the medium pinkish-orange padparadscha. Ceylon (Sri Lanka), Burma, Thailand, Australia, Montana, and the Umba Valley region of east Africa provide a wide variety of colors.

            So, as you can see, the orderly nature on the inside is also reflected, really permeates throughout, in the stones' nature, making them durable and beautiful formative principles of nature.  Any questions?  IS THAT THE END OF THE LECTURE?  Oh, my, no.  We still have high temperature superconductors and giant magneto-resistant materials (solid-state physics) to cover, not to mention layered structures, clays and lubricants.  CRABOLA.  Are you suggesting Mister Wafer that there is a hierarchy is the mineral world -- that the most durable stones are, in a sense, the most god-like stones?  I DON'T BELIEVE I'VE EVER SAID THAT.  Then there is no suggested hierarchy here?  TRANSMUTATION OF THE BASER MINERALS INTO GOLD, IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT?  (He lifts up his arms in animated laughter; all the students begin to laugh in unison; then he lower his arms abruptly and the laughing stops.)  I DON"T THINK SO, MISTER VOLATILE KIND ELI.  I AM TEACHING YOU ABOUT THE NATURE OF NATURE -- NOT ABOUT THE NATURE OF YOUR OWN FANTASIES.  (Again he raises his arms abruptly: laughter.  His arms fall: silence.)  WE TEACH YOU WHAT TO THINK, WHEN TO THINK IT, WHY TO THINK IT.  WE ARE WALKING ON THE MOONS AND STARS PRECISELY BECAUSE WE DID NOT CONCERN OURSELVES WITH THE THOUGHT-PROCESSES OF GASES.  But you concern youselves with the thought-processes of gemstone.  WE DO NOT.  What could produce such a geometric marvel as a Black Prince Ruby except a thought-process of a sort.  WHY, AN ACCIDENT, OF COURSE?  An accident?  TO SAY THAT NATURE IS STRUCTURED IS NOT TO SAY THAT NATURE HAS A STRUCTURER.  THAT IS AN INFERENCE YOU MAKE.  THERE IS NO PROOF OF THE STRUCTURER.  THERE IS ONLY PROOF OF THE STRUCTURE.  SO I STOP AT THE BORDER WHERE THE PROOF STOPS.  (Students applaud; some whistle.)  (UNDERBREATH REPROACHES COME POURING DOWN: Alchemist!  All Shame Us!  All coholic meshamest meshumest!)  I STILL LOVE YOU.  SING ME SOME JOHN DENVER.  I can't sing John Denver.  He's so...  ROMANTIC.  Rheumetoid.  NAD URALISTIC.  A trifle sewn.  POPULATING SEDIMENT.  Yes, definitely a sedimentalist.  SEDIMENT WILL POP ME OPEN, PISTOL; FOR PACKING MAMA.  Bee thee bride; or bee thee hider.  HIDING NO RIVER.  ONE THING: LET ME WIPE THAT TAR OFF YOUR FACE, PAR BABY.  YOU AREN'T A BLACK MAN.  LET ME WHISK IT OFF AND MEG YOU WIDE AGAIN.  Oh.  Use your spit.  MISTER CROSSMANN.  AM I HEARING YOU CORRECTLY?  Yes.  John Denver is a d-d-d-dorkweed.  NOT ABOUT THAT.  ABOUT....YOUR MYSTICAL INTERPRETATION.  The order of nature apparent in stones implies the emission of a formative or shape-producing electro-spiritual energy of the order or quality of sound, a soniferous creative force or Word - a creative chord. In terms of frequency of oscillation, the notes of this chord are expressive of the component ideas of an archetype pre-conceived and held in the major Creative Mind throughout Manvantara. This archetypical idea partly serves as a dynamic model in the super-physical worlds for the shaping of etheric and physical matter into the conceived patterns. This is the source of the impulse which cause inorganic and organic substance to assume geometrically governed forms and of the organising, pattern-assuming characteristic of proto-plasm. My own observations suggest that the shape-producing process is aided by the actions of Hierarchies of Creative Intelligences - Archangels and their angel hosts - who, as embodiments of Universal Intelligence, know the design or archetypes and, by allying themselves with the Word-force, enhance or amplify its formative capacity. These beings live in the super-physical worlds and act perpetually as form-molding agencies, according to the word. It should be understood that the terms spiritual and super-physical do not imply spatial separation from the physical universe. Matter of every degree of density co-exists spatially, the finer interpenetrating the denser. The laboratory of Nature and its 'engineers', 'artists' and 'chemists' are within physical matter, somewhat as Herzian waves are transmitted through the air and an electrical current along a wire. Both protyle and protoplasm are 'charged' from within by an indwelling, immanent, thought-directed, creative, formative Life-force. At the etheric-physical level, the Hierarchies of Creative Intelligences are represented by the inner builders of forms, the nature spirits, who operate instinctively, largely by playing along the lines of force - stimulating to them - which form the geometrical patterns set up in the all-pervasive ether by the emitted and vibrating Thought Word-Force......The creative energies of which all forms are the product first emitted as sound by the utterance of the 'Word', may be thought of as arising from a central, spiritual Source, represented physically by the Sun. At their source, these energies have tremendous potency. The whole race of the Gods from the Solar Archangels to the planetary angels serve somewhat as electrical transformers. They receive into themselves the primordial creative power, as if by resistance to its flow reduce the 'voltage'. From the Solar Gods it passes through their lesser brethren, rank upon rank, until it reaches the physical worlds. There, with the assistance of the nature spirits, it throws matter into shape conceived by the Creative Mind.  MY GOD, THIS IS HERESY.  Hiersee, sir.  GET OUT!  (The students begin to boo loudly, shaking their fist, throwing small stones at the target.  He recognizes them as corundum.)  SOMEONE GO GET HIMMELMANN!  HURRY!  (Sometimes I just wand to quid, you know.  Sometimes I jest wand to lay down and becrumb some kind of oblomof -- a badground cow.)  YOU HAVE WANTED TO QUIT SINCE COLLEGE.  ALWAYS QUITTING JOBS.  JUST WANTING TO SIT IN YOUR CHAIR AND WAIT TO DIE.  That's not true.  IT'S A FORM OF REBRATSHOEN YOU KNOW.  Get out the psychoanalyst!  IT'S DREW.  None see like I dew.  SHEMALE THORAX YOU ARE.  Arac Arac Arac Attack.  ARAB ARAB ARAB ATANG.  Is that a racist homosimile?  Connecting the Arab with a lower forum of life, a more primitive lag-form?  Beastil in its perdinant in ids penadtrations?  ICE SAID NO SETTLED THING.  HOSTES WIT THE MOSTES AID.  Geez -- do we have to keep digging here?  What are we looking for anyway?  DIRT.  Well, there is plenty of dirt here.  DIRT THAT CAN BE USED.  TO SMEAR SOMEONE.  Someone has already smeared dirt on your face.  THEY WANT TO SMEAR SOME MORE.  Catholic smearing?  I'M AFRAID IT'S SEW.  Blue revival.  AS HARD AS IT GUTS.  No consexual remarks now pleads.  I know you fear being consumed for egg A.  AGAIN?  I know you're a cad of lick rather than a cad of prod.  HOW'D YOU NO THAT?  People talk.  The walls have errors.  The stuffed dig has problems standing.  NOD ALWAYS.  Nod when you can.  SOME GIRLYGIGS ACTUALLY TAKE THE STIFF RIDE OUT OF YOU.  BULB-CUTTERS.  YOU HAVE TO USE OLD TWO-TONGUE COMMON.  Meg thumb's cream.  HARDESTY MOUNTAIN.  Walking in a mudbadth for tyou.  UP TO YOUR HIPS IN COMMOTION.  When it is g-g-gord.  OH, MARKS YOU FIELD LIKE A MANGROVE.  Double You Sea.  Field.  DON'T MAKE ME L-L-GAG.  Think about the authors.  ART THILL SHILL HEARD?  I thing so.  Listen?  IT IS SO DARK HERE, IN THE FIELD OF MAIDDREAMS.  Listen -- zounds of zilence.  THERE ARE NO ZOUNDS OUTZIDE THE ZOUNDS OF ZILENZE.  Zylophone playing with itself.  LONELY HERE WIDOWT WOEMEN.  Let him stew.  Ismet grows stronger.  THINK OF THE FIST MAN WHO CANNOT SPRECH, WHO CANNOT STRECH HIS MOWED TO MENSURE.  BUT HAND SIGNS FIRST.  DEADMUTE HADDEN SIGNS.  E-E-E.  Ou-Ou-Ou.  U-U-U-U-U.  I-I-I-I-I.  Hay-Hay-Hay-Hay-Hay.  BIRDTHING TO THE VOWELS.  Fist the vovalsounds.  Round, like earlyorbs.  Heads.  Heads of cabbage sounds.  HOLEGRAIN WOOD.  Hollow olives.  I HAVE NO REDSPECK FOR THE BIRDSQUAW LIFE.  THE BROADSQUARE LIFE.  THE BRIDESHARE LIFE.  OR THE BURSTWAD WIFE.  Are you an ark's maxist then?  NEVER LERNIN; MOSTLY STALLIN'.  Did's reds pectin incensed doors.  FREE MAN.  LIBRARY.  That's where you'll sleep -- during day.  LIBERI.  ZONE A.  Freight.  I AIN'T A FREIGHT.  YORE THE OWNER WHO'S A FREIGHT.  THAD'S WHY YOUR MARI DED THE HOLE SHTEW, TO BRETAGNE RULED MOUGHT NOUGHT DIET.  Dig deeper.  Dig foister.  YOU MIGHT FIND FOODT.  YOU'VE LOST SO MUCH WAIT.  Pay sense makes the temp sure ridse.  MOANED THE MONDE MORNING MOOTED.  UN OLD ZOOTCHAISE TWO UN ELD SOTOL HUMMPLATES.  Meds caudal.  MUDS CAT LOVE.  Have un older strip.  NUT ONE DOOR WIVE.  Cunt you still lab when you'd daysay that, fluor larder?  ID CULLED BE WARTS.  WE KID BE ORALIZING THAT P-P-P-ODE OF HISSED, FROM THE P-P-BOBBETT'S P-P-BED.  Samething midsing.  DA-DA-DA-DA.  Somedink's misting.  ALL THE FELINES LAVED WIDE GLEAM.  Orenthaller.  OVER HAIR.  Let him maximize his brunc, odor bronze.  NO SHAMER, MISTER TIBBS.  Adorned bed weened do luddeers, feeling like a ghoul.  Ladding bothered you is bequaking all the duals.  A SONG FOR A HARMED PASSED.  Sharming too, surely, Shirley.  DON'T PLAIN NAMES WITH YOUR SPARROW.  YOU NO THE ONE.  Less likely ill saint here nomen, Clay, fissure.  ALWAYS AN OWL BY OWLLIGHT.  Stay it then.  LESLIE ROAMS.  Ahh, tincture of merthilolate.  FOR A DEEP WONDER, THEN?  The debtest of the deep.  MARMORIAL GLASS.  Banque of banks.  DETONATING MEMS, LANK ANDONYMS.  Zong about a airy dolt.  ADD OLT DERRY.  The zin, the zhame and the zorro.  FOLIVER FTWIST.  Zwisted Fallover, you mind.  TREERS FALLTOO FALLOW SINCE, EVERWADS, EVERSHELLTIE.  Woordeater from Rotterdome repers toro mans the worrield with taxed.  TAXED.  DAMNED TAXED.  Made tree arks lamend tea undercovering of the pale tree ark called abcendental falloffthetree.  IN A PILE OF MONUMENTAL CRABS.  Stinging to high ebon.  SOUNDSENSE FIBST.  Noon.  ZOUNDS LIKE.  Furrest sibalabial.  POOREST SISTER'S WHAT?  In the forest?  AN ACT OF DAD'S RESPECT FOR THE FEMALE PLANNED.  Sauvie dottir.  HEAR NOW I FEAR THE ZARONGS OF SIGH WRENS AGGUMUSALEVADING ON THE PEAR IVORY.  Zo unclosed I can almost mail it.  SNIFF SNIFF.  SMOLTS LIKE CHICK ENDS; TAINTS LIKE FUDGE.  Where is room oars dowd, now that down gatoring endo ain hurry mob.  SLABING ORDS WITH HIS GIRLDLE.  Wag the dealt; mach him tern!  SNIFF SNIFF.  Something wabing the rottwelder.  TWOMEN SURES IT.  The gentile world of Viceo's New Science, then, originates exactly as the world originates in the Book of Genesis, and exactly as it always and only originates in the minds of human infants.  'Lost in ignorance', 'buried in the body and immersed in the senses', these impercipient, space-pervading giants, informed only by Jov(e) or J(eh)ov(ah), rise from an unconsciousness tha only knowns 'I AM' into gentile human nature by gathring from dark formlessness the etymologically-related property of physical nature -- animating it and making it sensible according to anthropological principles of infantile psychology.  A NODDER VOIC, AN UDDERED ROME.  Since Vico's aboriginal man actively creates the world by 'making things out of himself', the 'first nature' of gentile humanity is 'a poetic and creative nature', which we may be allowed to call divine': 'in the world's childhood' of Vico's Divine Age, 'men are by nature poets' and the 'world in its infancy is composed of poetic nations'.  The key terms here are 'nature' (or nations) and 'poetry'.  Vico enploys the latter in its etymological sense of 'creating' or 'making' (from the Greek poiesis) rather than in the sense of literary production, since the giants who people the word in the invancy know no language or writing ('infancy', etymologically, <Latin, infans, 'not speaking').  Just as the limits of his culture's vocabulary cause Vico to adopt the term 'ignorance' to denote 'unconsciousness', so he uses the term 'poetic wisdom' to denote the maniforld forms of unconscious thinking that Freud would study more specialistically in his work on infantile sexualitty.  Organic to the midns of the 'children of nascent mankink', poetric wisdom is the unconscious wisdom into which the first men rise in their nescience: it is this unconscious wisdom out of which Enlightenment Europe and its institutions dialectically grow in Vico's social history.  MIANT, ADD STAKE, HEBE, MORAL HAWK, ALL GONE TWIN, JERK OF KEY, SEMEN OLD, PI YUD, CRO, MAGNET, GREE, SULL, OB HAG SHE, COMMON SHE, NAVAL HUE, SEWN SHOWN HE, MOUNDBALDERS, MOUNTBALLDEERS, ALL.  Billers, if you musk.  ATE TWIDES TOOLDAY.  Billers are aftimes balleers two.  BILLETS AND BULLDERS.  Giants until the thuder megas them run.  UNDO THE CAVE TO MAKE THEM PREY.  Thag is Voci's premisedents.  GASTROODDED BY THOR.  Bodedic wist dome.  BREE SAGE.  Egg cumenality of signs.  TALLKING, WEALKING WIT GOD.  The kinds of edump.  OSPREY HOARY IN DAY MOURNYOUMOUNT.  Given as engravened.  A BUCK WRITTEN ON A WALL IN A DARK CRAVEN.  Wombpun.  WAMPUM, BRAGGIN SPELLER.  Childhead of the rates.  THE RATS?  The raze.  ARCHITEMPLE VROM TRAUMTRAUM, REVELER.  No low jets from soundsound laylaments in ites.  DROMES ALL LONG THE MORELOCK.  Nidefeatures.  TREADLOCKS BURIED IN BROADLEAF UNCTIONS.  Burrowed in stone.  FIST MAN, BURIED IN STONE.  SHAKECUNTI MAN, HARRIED IN PLANK TOWN.  TRIMURTI MAN, COROLLARIED IN LIONING.  FORTUIDOUS MAN, DROMEDARIED IN GAMBOL.  FUNFATALE MAN, SHARONFERRIED IN HIS PARROTS.  SEXMINSTERMAN, CLERESTORIED IN DAUGHTEROMORANGE.  SAVENED SEA-BORN MAN, GLOIRED IN AMITY.  Diet tribe.  IN HEIGHT.  Odd posterior orey: hystereggtombmay.  BUTT THAT WAS EAGLE ATE HER.  And thack wise whohere the pun was boren.  BOREHAPS FROM THE IDEAL ALIEN, PUNCTILIO, MEANDERING FINE POINT.  Ever ide pont is the cantor of the maniverse.  IN ORDER TO EXPALIN HOW THIS POETIC WISDOM ARISES IN GIANT ABORIGINALITY 'IGNORANT OF EVERYTHING' BUT THE SENSATION OF THEIR BODIES, VICO NECESSARILY UNDERTAKES A RECONSTRUCTION OF UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY COMPARABLE TO FREUD'S: FOR THE 'WORLD IN ITS INFANCY' IS A 'TIME EMPTY OF FACTS WHICH MUST REALLY HAVE BEEN FULL OF THEM'.  NOT UNLIKE FREUD, HE ATTRIBUTES THE EARLY GENESIS OF HUMAN NATURE FO 'THE TERROR PRESENT POWER,' LEARNED WITH THE CRASH OF THUNDERBOLTS WHICH RUDELY TEACH VICO'S INFANTILE GIANT THAT HE DOES NOT FILL THE UNIVERSE.  GENERATING THE INTERNAL PERCEPTION OF FEAR IN A BODY ABORIGINALLY ALL APPETITE, THIS EXTERNAL SOUND OPERATES LIKE THE THUNDER OF THE PATRIARCHAL 'NO!' IN FREUD'S ACCOUNTS OF THE SEXUAL ORGANIZATION AND TOILET-TRAINING OF MODERN INFANTS.  Brown naggin?  NO.  The paid regarchal No?  NO.  The Bishop, instead.  WHICH BED SHOP?  The John, the Yawn, Le Jaune -- and his bug of le duc.  DID WE FIND THIS IN MO'S SEA BUG?  The bug in the bag: some kind of buggery in the baggery.  BUGGERY BAGGERY BACH, THE MIDGE WENDED OB THE GLOCK.  THE GLOCKE RUNGK EINTZ, AND ONAN MOODCH HE'D FAHRT.  INK TORY, DINK TERRY, TALK.   Bitch stop to Keen's pond.  SHARKMADE.  Poetic wisdom arises in the minds of Vico's aboriginal giants, then, together with the learning of corporeal control and the human body's limited dimensions.  Through poetic wisdom, man creates his own body, which is not immanent in the physical universe, and which differs from the bodies of animals because it is humanly made and organized.  Vico writes: IN THE PREVAILING BEST USAGE (THE LATIN VERB EDUCERE) APPLIES TO THE EDUCATION OF THE SPIRIT AND (THE LATIN VERB EDUCARE) TO THAT OF THE BODY....EDUCATION BEGAN TO BRING FORTH IN A CERTAIN WAY THE FORM OF THE HUMAN SOUL WHICH HAD BEEN COMPLETELY SUBMERGED IN THE HUGE BODIES OF THE GIANTS; AND BEGAN, LIKEWISE, TO BRING FORTH THE FORM OF THE HUMAN BODY ITSELF IN ITS JUST DIMENSIONS FROM THE DISPROPORTIONATE GIANT BODIES.  This submersion, of course, connects this picture with Madame Blavatsky's midge of the Atlantean men.  HAVE YOU THIS MAMMARY THEN?  Delicate as it is.  LET THE BISHOP SPEAK AGAINN.  If this kind of education reduces the space-pervading immensity of Vico's infantile first men by subjecting them to self-imposed disciplinary laws, however, it compensatorily liberates, through a form of 'sublimation', a human nature which will generate the world of nations and civil institutions.  IS IT PLEASURE HE HEARD AN OTTER'S VOICE RUD?  Under the water there is no sound.  YES.  Muted sound.  YES.  In an age whoe philological authorities were trying to discover how the languages of the gentile nations could have developed historically from the Hebrew spoken by Adam in the Garden of Eden.  The New Science advanced the radical proposition that human language had its beginnings in the minds of infantile first men who growled, whined, and whimpered in pleasure and pain like animals in caves: for the langguages of Vico's gentile humanity, their beginning found 'in the modifications of our own human mind', originate not simply in historical time and geographical space, but also -- as always and only -- inside the bodies of human infants: 'the first dull-witted men were moved in a very loud voice'.  'Articulate language began to develop by way of onomatopoiea, through which we still find children happily experessing themselves.  Vico writes: MEN VENT GREAT PASSIONS BY BREAKING INTO SONG, AS WE OBSERVE IN THE MOST GRIEF-STRICKEN AND THE MOST JOYFUL.  IT FOLLOWS THAT THE FOUNDERS OF THE GENTILE NATIONS, HAVING WANDERED ABOUT IN THE WILD STATE OF DUMB BEASTS AND BEING, THEREFORE, SLUGGISH, WERE INEXPRESSIVE SAVE UNDER THE IMPULSE OF VIOLENT PASSIONS, AND FORMED THEIR FIRST LANGUAGES BY SINGING.  And when halving six with sicsters.  UHH.  UHH.  UHH.  UHH.  Sextus.  Coire.  Sextus coire.  KUNDE; PUDENDUM.  New Latin, singular of 'Pudenda', from neuter plural of 'pudendus', gerundive of 'pudere', 'to be ashamed'.  INCEST, FROM LATIN 'INCESTUS', 'IN', NOT, AND 'CESTUS', PURE.  Cestus, from the Latin, 'cestus', belt or girdle; from the Greek, 'kestos',  'stitched', from 'kentein', 'to prick'.  TO PRICK.  TO SHAME.  C'est us.  YES.  SISTERN LOVE.  Cistern, Middle English, from the Old French 'cisterne', from Latin 'cisterna', 'cista box' or chest.  O, O, O, O, O, O, O.  VOWELS FROM THE MOUTH.  OF A MOANING GIRL.  Vico's account of human genesis anticipatorily encompasses Frued's, finally, by understanding that human consciousness, language, and reality genetically unfold from inside the bodies of infants.  Although the decorous civilization of Vico's Europe had begun learning to develaue the human body, nothing in the universe known to Vico's gentile man ever happens outside of its space, within which the human world and its knowing aboriginally and always comes to be.  Since the infantile thinking of Vico's first men is quuivalently the unconsciousness of the body not yet tutored into human knowing, the psychology of unconsciousness that Vico develops in The New Science also anticipates the account of infantile sexuality given in Freud's theories of genitality.  Vico accounts very broadly how gentile human nature rolled up into the head not simplyh out of the loins but out of the entire body of his aboriginal infant giants.  In Vico's nascimento, the thinking of the body begins not simply the history of the personality, but the hsitory of the West; and 'genitality', in this history, is only a late and limited conceptual outgrowth of the broader force of a 'gentile' nature.  GEN, GENUS, GENS, GENITALS, GENOS, GENTIS, GENIUS, GENTILITY.  Gnosis, Generality, Generosity, Geneaology.  AHH, THE TREE  OF LIFE.  IS IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SYLLABUS.  Sic itur ad astra.  SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI.  He says the proto pipe smoked when the throne door slammed SHUT.  THOR'S TUNDRA.  Donner blitzen.  ROTH'S TONNERRE.  A tone'll bite us, from heaven's adoring addon: Adonis's arbutus.  BAND RYE.  Bone dry.  TORDEN MORDEN.  Normed rodent.  YES.  ECCLESIASTICALLY.  Sam sam.  Sam sam sam dong.  Sam chop.  MANY DOOR JAMS, VILLAM.  MANIC OEDIPUSCAPADES.  Auctonen.  ATTRONIDO.  Girley Meg.  Fahrting as she runs.  So schoolgirlish in her wide cloudpanties under the skurt of Skite blued in the windy whirly me gag of a daytime.  THOR BABE RAISED.  Con cave washt the first home o.  WHERE THE DOTERS HID THEIR CLOUDPANTIES ON THULL EINE.  Dad act tick in the nake all pre datory.  Wanting the daters' quim all quonservered for his cell.  FAMINE LADIES ALL RILED FOR THE CAMEL KABAL.  Modness grovellning the moon's mottled moors.  DARK-FACED, CATTLE ENERGY COMING OUT IN RUGE.  Bored Navalled Lay Days.  NOT LADIES IN THEIR HOBBITS.  Shoretainly lateys in their commondance.  BAY BEES GROOMING OUD DOVE NO EAR.  Remem there, here was the sigh lens.  EVERY DING WAS SIDE LENSED.  The voit had no knowledge of itself as an itself, no he spoke not his circumference.  HIS CIRCUMSTANDING WAS NOT HIS DIAMDEMETER.  Thunder drobe him intub caves.  FOR WINTER WARRED HIM DOWN.  AND WARNED HIM BOUND.  GREATER GODS IN NATURE; GREATER HAMMERS THAN CLAY TERMS.  Rog beggin levely dream.  RAGNA ROCKS EAT DIASIED OATS AND RAGNA ROCKS EDE IVEY.  A DIDDLE DROVES IVEY'S GHOUL, WOULD IT WOOD.  Noncents barker.  NONSENSE OUT OF ALLSENSE.  Allsense allrain; and the cavells provine us art tusks.  PLEINTED NEOLITHOGRAVICALLY ON THE WELL.  Showman sate her, con't beraid her; lay herd down and build and arm ardor from her genus gnosotailia.  CON SIEVED.  Tree tease on the con formation of the triune rune, the alpha and bethic dray.  FIRST SYLLABLE ROOT OF THE MANY-SYLLABLED PLANDT.

 

 

NOBILITY

 

 

 

 

 

 

noble

 

GENUINE

 

 

 

 

IGNORANCE

 

PROGENY

 

 

 

 

ignorant

 

progenitor

 

 

 

 

ignore

 

Latin

 

 

 

 

Latin

 

genuinis

 

 

 

 

nobilis

 

(inborn,

 

 

 

 

gnobilis

 

innate,

 

 

 

 

(knowable,

 

authentic)

 

PREGNANCY

 

 

known,

 

Latin

 

NATURE

 

 

famous)

 

progigenere

 

natural

 

 

Latin

 

past participle

 

pregnant

 

 

ignorare

 

progenitus

 

Latin

 

 

(not to know,

 

(to beget)

 

praegnantis

 

 

disregard)

 

Latin

 

(heavy with

 

 

gno-dhli-

 

genui,

 

child)

 

 

gno-ro- 

 

gignere

 

Latin

 

 

gno-sko-

 

past participle

 

natura

 

 

*    *    *

 

genitus

 

(nature,

 

 

GENITALS

 

(to beget,

 

essence)

 

 

genital

 

produce)

 

Latin

 

 

genitality

 

 gi-gn-

 

praegnas

 

 

GENITIVE

 

*    *    *

 

Latin

 

 

Latin

 

GNOSIS

 

(g)nasci

 

 

casus

 

gnostic

 

present

 

 

genitivus

 

gnosticism

 

paraticiple

 

 

(case of

 

agnostic

 

(g)nascens

 

NARRATIVE

origin)

 

diagnosis

 

past participle

 

narration

genitalis

 

prognosis

 

(g)natus

 

narrate

(creative,

 

gnomen

 

(to be born)

 

UNCOUTH

fruitful)

 

gnomic

 

gna-

INNATE

M.English

Latin

 

Greek

 

gna-sko

NATAL

unc(o)uth

genitivus

 

gnomon

 

gna-

natality

(strange,

(of birth)

 

(one who

 

*    *    *

prenatal

unknown)

Latin

 

knows)

 

INGENIOUS

neonatal

O.English

genui,

 

Greek

 

ENGINE

noel

uncath

gignere

 

gnosis

 

M.English

O. French

(unknown)

past participle

 

(knowledge)

 

engin

no(u)el

Latin

genitus

 

Greek

 

O. French

nael

narrare

(to beget,

 

gignoskein

 

engin

Latin

(to tell,

produce)

 

(to know)

 

(skill,

natalis

relate)

 gi-gn-

 

gno-sko-

 

invention

dies

German

*    *    *

 

gno-

 

Latin

(day of

kunth-

NOTION

 

*    *    *

 

ingeniosis

birth)

Latin

NOTICE

 

GENIUS

 

Latin

Latin

(g)narus

Latin

 

GENIAL

 

ingenium

innatus

(knowing,

notio

 

geniality

 

(innate,

(inborn,

expert)

(a becoming

 

congeniality

 

ability,

innate)

gna-ro-

acquainted)

 

Latin

 

inborn talent)

Latin

*    *    *

Latin

 

genialis

 

Latin

natalis

ACQUAINTANCE

nottia

 

(of birth or

 

genius

(of birth)

COGNITION

(knowledge)

 

generation;

 

(innate spirit;

Latin

acquaint

Latin

 

nuptial;

 

native ingelli-

(g)nasci

cognizant

(g)noscere

 

joyous)

 

gence, spirit

present

cognizance

(g)notus

 

Latin

 

of procreation)

paraticiple

M.English

(to get to know,

 

genius

 

 gen-yo

(g)nascens

acqueynten

become

 

(innate spirit;

 

*    *    *

past participle

acointen

acquainted)

 

native ingelli-

 

GENERATION

(g)natus

O.French

*    *    *

 

gence, spirit

 

GENERAL

(to be born)

acointer

GENEROUS

 

of procreation)

 

generality

*    *    *

Latin

GENDER

 

 gen-yo

 

generalize

INGENUITY

cognito

generosity

 

*    *    *

 

O.French

ENGINEER

(knowledge,

M.English

 

GENUS

 

engenderer

M. Latin

study)

gen(d)re

 

GENRE

 

Latin

ingeniator

Latin

O.French

 

generic

 

generalis

(contriver)

accognoscere

genereux

 

O.French

 

(belonging to

Latin

(to know

O.French

 

genre

 

one kind;

ingenuitas

perfectly)

genre

 

(kind, sort)

 

relating to

(frankness,

Latin

(kind, sort)

 

Latin

 

all)

innocent)

cognoscere,

Latin

 

genus,

 

Latin

Latin

cognitum

generosus

 

generis

 

generare,

ingenuuos

(to get to

(of noble

 

(race, species,

 

generatus

(inborn,

know, learn)

birth;

 

kind)

 

(to engender,

innate,

Latin

excellent)

 

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

 

beget)

honest)

(g)noscere

Latin

*

 

*

Latin

Latin

(g)notus

genus,

*

gn-

*

genus,

ingenium

(to get to know,

generis

*

gen-

*

generis

(innate,

become

(race, species,

*

proto Indo-

*

(race, species,

ability,

acquainted)

kind)

*

European

*

kind)

inborn talent)

*    *   *   *

*    *   *   *

*

(to beget, to

*

*    *   *   *

*    *   *   *

gna-

gen-ti-

*

bring forth, to

*

gen-es-

Latin

gna -      gna-

gen-men-

*

conceive

*

Latin

(g)nasci

German

Greek

*

 

*

generare,

present

kunnan-

genesis

*

*    *   *   *

*

generatus

paraticiple

German

(birth,

 

 gen-

 

(to engender,

(g)nascens

kunth-

origin)

 

gen-wo-

 

beget)

past participle

O. English

Latin

 

Latin

 

Latin

(g)natus

cath

germen

 

ingenuuos

 

ingenerare

(to be born)

(known)

(sprout,

 

(inborn,

 

ENGENDER

Latin

M. English

fetus,

 

innate,

 

degenerate

nativus

connen

offshoot)

 

honest)

 

regenerate

(inborn,

(to know how,

Latin

 

French

 

generative

belonging

to be able)

germinaire

 

ingenue

 

generator

by birth)

M.English

(to sprout)

 

(artless)

 

GENERATE

O. French

conning

germinate

 

ingenue

 

*    *    *

naif

(knowing)

germinal

 

INGENUOUS

 

 gen-

nativ

COUTH

genetics

 

GENESIS

 

gen-wo-

naive

CUNNING

GERM

 

*    *    *

 

Latin

NAIVETE

 

GENETIC

 

gen-es-

 

ingenuuos

NATIVITY

 

*    *    *

 

Greek

 

(inborn,

*    *    *

 

gon-o-

 

gonos

 

innate,

Latin

 

Latin

 

(birth,

 

honest)

(g)nasci

 

(g)noscere

 

begetting,

 

French

present

 

(g)notus

 

generation)

 

ingenue

paraticiple

 

(to get to know,

 

Greek

 

(artless)

(g)nascens

 

become

 

genealogia

 

ingenue

past participle

 

acquainted)

 

GONADS

 

INGENUOUS

(g)natus

 

Greek

 

GENEALOGY

 

GENESIS

(to be born)

 

gonos

 

*    *    *

 

*    *    *

Latin

 

(birth,

 

Latin

 

O.French

nativus

 

begetting,

 

gens, gentis

 

gentil

(inborn,

 

generation)

 

(belonging

 

(well-

belonging

 

Greek

 

together

 

born)

by birth)

 

 -gonia

 

by birth;

 

M.English

Latin

 

(generation)

 

clan descended

 

gentil

natio

 

Latin

 

through the

 

jaunty

(breed,

 

recognoscere,

 

male line

 

gentleness

tribe related

 

recognitum

 

from common

 

gentleman

by birth)

 

(to recognize)

 

ancestors)

 

GENTLE

national

 

 -ogony

 

Latin

 

*    *    *

nationality

 

theogony

 

gentilis

 

gn-yo-

nationalism

 

COSMOGONY

 

(of the

 

Latin

NATIVE

 

recognizance

 

same clan)

 

(g)nasci

NATION

 

recognition

 

gentility

 

present

*    *    *

 

RECOGNIZE

 

genteel

 

paraticiple

gn-ti-

 

*    *    *

 

GENTILE

 

(g)nascens

German

 

gnow-

 

*    *    *

 

past participle

kundjaz

 

German

 

gn-yo-

 

(g)natus

(family,

 

know-

 

gn-yo-

 

(to be born)

race)

 

O. English

 

German

 

German

O.English

 

cnawan

 

kunjam

 

kuningaz

cynd

 

(to know)

 

(family)

 

(son of

gecynd(e)

 

M. English

 

German

 

royal kin)

(nature,

 

connen

 

kundiz

 

Latin

race,

 

(to know how,

 

(natural,

 

nascens

birth)

 

to be able)

 

native)

 

(being

MEnglish

 

con

 

O.English

 

born)

kind(e)

 

(study)

 

cynn

 

O.English

kynd(e)

 

CAN

 

(race,

 

cyning

M.English

 

(ability,

 

family)

 

(king)

gentri(s)e

 

power)

 

M.English

 

M.English

gentry

 

KNOW

 

king

 

king

kindred

 

 

 

kynde

 

KING

kindness

 

 

 

KIND

 

NASCENT

KIND

 

 

 

KIN

 

 

 

 

MY GARDE!  HE SKIDCHED THE WHOLE CORMED TREE!  The whale crammed spire all treat.  AMOUSINGLY NIGHTY.  LIEBS CORFING OUT IN BODES DOOR 'RECTIONS.  But where is 'gonorrhea'?  Out.  TUBIKISTICALLY SOWED.  And there is 'nomen', indeed.  But no 'agnomen'.  NICK'S NOMEN AND NICK'S WORMMEN.  To name a feud.  The hilten name.  THAT, OF COURSE, IS KNOT THE POINT.  Witch is the pont then?  THE PUNT IS THAT THE FAMILY OF WORDS, THE MOLECULES OF RELATED AIL LAMENTS, BORN FROM THE NUCLEUS OF 'GEN-;, INCLUDES, AMONG ORDERS: TO KNOW, CUNNING, NARRATIVE, NOBILITY, GNOSIS, ACQUAINTANCE, RECOGNIZE, GENEALOGY, GENERATION, GENUS, GENEROUS, GENETIC, GENESIS, INGENIOUS, GENIUS, GENITALS, GENUINE, PREGNANCY, INNATE, NATIVITY, NATION, KIN, KIND, AND GENTILE.  Tubey kind aswan as of your own kind.  LINKING WHAT?  Linking day life with genitals and genius and procreation and nobility.  With to be generous and cunning and how to compose a narrative.  JOVEHOVAH'S DAY LIFE.  And wad about Nick Nomen's nicht nocht nide life?  DAYER WILLBE OTHER ATOMS.  Treeb of no ledge.  TWO NO.  Note.  TUNE ODE.  Nod.  TOOL NODE.  Yes.  AN ENTANGLING PUDENDICKAMENT.  A digstreet moss of inkend uncle loosed in a titsuit of add divident kites.  AHH, I ALMOST SEE.  Odor of tube oints wear d'or bits of a plain net or calm mnet in her sex the epilectic; all suits, other of the peints add watch the heel door bats dove the earl doth set a light a cross eth the play knee off the ache quid door.  A pint, a loan, a sore face of a fiberrrrrrrr rating bottle or cyst stem flatest fee or related lively fray form fiberrrrrrr tory molt chains.  A punt add which a wane hazed an ample toad off seared toe.  A pant und witch sob sot tiarra parks or unguates horse enters.  A pleint on ass tame odd watch a loaf or laves are tinselled in.  A pond add wick a corvee under sex outself and sucks a man near that brand chase hove demi dent tanned gents.  Averred text.  DICK SHONE AIRY OH.  Kaye horse.  SPEWLLING WILLED BY THE FROST TUG ROTH.  Babble apple.  Abble bath.  NOMBRES OR GNOMENBRADS -- THRALL DID IS THE KAYE STATION?  WET HER TITS 'NABLE HER INK TO MOUNDT TOSS OFF HER TAIL SCHWINGS AND MARROWS OFF OTTER AGES FOR TUNES OR TOOT ACHE OF PARMIS GEGANGAST SIEGES OF TAR BUBBLES UNDIE BY PAPPOOSING DAMES SEND TAMES?  TOADY; TOSSED SLIP; NAVAL MOORED; AND BY AS LEAP DO SEGUE WEED AND TOE HERD AGUE UNTOLD DOUSSING NATAL EDITORIAL STOCKS THAT FLASH IT'S HAIR TOOTH, TIT IS A CONSUME NATION DEVIL OUTLY TORN BEWITCHED.  TOOTY; TOE SLAP; TOE SLURP; PERCH HENCE TOE'D REAM: EYE, TEAR'S THE ROBE; FUR IN THACK HEAP OF DUDTH WAD STREAMS MAY YET COMMON WED WEAVE SHOVELED UP THE MORE TELL GOIL, MUFF GAVE HUNT PAWS: THEY RISK THE REST PACT THRALLED SHALL MAKES COLUMN MIGHTY OFF SORE LUNG LOVE; FOR WHAT WOOD BEAR THE WIPES AND THE SCORN HORNS OF TILE, THE OF PREDECAESAR'S WAR LONG, THE PRUNED MINK'S CARTOONEDLY, THE PINKS OF DUST PISCESED LOUGH, TOLL AWE'S DULL LAY, THE INSULLSCIENCE OF ORIFICES AND THE SPERMS TAUGHT PAY CLIENTS MIRROR IT OFF THE ONE WRAITHY SHAKES, WENT HEEL, HIMCELT, MINDS HIS QUIETESTES MAKES WET A BARE BODIED KIN.  A sister again?  Drink of Brunnhilde?  Paleholder?  WHO WOULD FAHRTERS BARE: TO GRUNT AND SWEAT ONTER A WEAVING LIVE, BUTT THOUGHT THE TREAD OF STUNG THORNS PET HIM MORTE; THE UNDUSKCOVERED CUNT TREED FROM HOSE BIRDS NO TRAVAILLER'S RUT TURNS, POUZZLES HAVE WILL ANNE MARKED HILTS ROTER BORE THOUGH SELLS WEAVE THEN FLEET TO NOTHERS THAN WEED KNOWN NOT OFF?  THUD'S CONNED SCIENCE DUST MOCK CO-WORDS OF HAUS SOW; AND DUST THOUGHT'S NODDIVE SUIT COST OF CLOTH, AND ENTERED PRIEST OF GREEK PATH AND MONUMENT WIT THUS RIG GUARD THOR'S TORRENTS CURED AWL RYE, UNDLOOSE THE GNOME OF AUCTION -- SOT, YOU KNOW -- THE FREER OF HELIOS, IN HORIZON'S REASONS BUY ALL MODES INS REMURMURED.  Well shaken.  LED THE BISHOP SPRIG HIS MENT AGAIN.  Bee shop of harm, let the speed stick crouton  spork and pop.  ADDON BEAT US.  Heart on bode us.  WHORE THONG BRAID US.  War town eyes hemps his doter brown Hilda.  THE THREE OF LIFT, ORBBLES OF PLEINTY.  Orb of tory, harp of worry.  DO SPIG HE DRIED TOOL DOUBLIGATE THE SOMMED REVERBS OF THORNDURR.  Yeps.  BID SHIP REMUNE THE CUBBLED LOON, OARHAB.  Screeching.  VICO'S READING OF MYTHS RECALLS FREUD'S REPEATED OBSERVATIONS THAT THE 'ANALYSIS OF NONSENSICAL VERBAL FORMS OCCURRING IN DREAMS IS PARICICULARLY WELL-CALCULATED TO EXHIBIT THE DREAM-WORK'S ACHIEVEMENTS; FOR FREUDIAN INTERPRETATION, LIKE VICO'S, WORKS THROUGHT HE 'ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS OF SYLLABLES' COMPARABLY TO RECONSTRUCT AN ARCHAIC HUMAN PAST -- THE INFANTILE PAST -- WHOSE INFLUENCE STRUCTURES 'THE TEXT OF THE DREAM'.  WRITTEN LANGUAGE, IN THIS PREHISTORY -- SIGN LANGUAGE -- BEGINS WITH MANUAL GESTURES, WHOSE EXERCISE GRADUALLY EDUCES THE HANDS AND EYES FROM THE ABORIGINALLY GIANT BODY; WHILE PHONETIC LANGUAGE ORIGINATES IN COMPARABLY EXPRESSIVE EXERCISES OF THE VOCAL CHORDS AND EARS: IN ASEMANTIC BABBLING, LAUGHING AND CRYING, ALL OF WHICH VICO SUBSUMES UNDER THE SINGLE TERM 'SINGING'.  Crunting.  Brunnhilda.  LAURA'S SONG.  Acch, memento, memento.  BURY IT DEEP; BURY IT CHEEP.  Can her airily.  WHIP HER WILL.  O, O, O, O, O, O, OOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  Curkl jerikl.  GRAFT.  PRE PUS.  Once Vico's primitive man orients himself in encaved social groups or families -- driven in to caves by the suttering god of thunder -- he begins to generate pictographic signs and monosyllabic utterances that in memory acquire fixed meanings expressive of basic fears and desires; and, at this point in his development, man distinguishes himself from the feral giants and begins to evolve more elaborate social structures, languages, and forms of knowing.  Basic to Vico's genetic account is the understanding that all human language evolves out of an aboriginal state by a process of distortionary slippage of 'preausteric man' (Joyce's term) unconsciously blurs syllables and images together, in the course of his development, in order to build new words and concepts that always lie just beyond his slowly growing, conscious grasp: the Latin word for sheep (pecus) generates a word for money (pecunia) as the economic conditions of social history evolve.  Complementarily, Vico discoveres that the etymological unlayering of modern languages, and the consciousness that they make possible, allows the reconstruction of the unconscious mind out of which gentile humanity arose.  FOLLOWING THE FUIT BARK TO THE ROOD.  AND THE ROOD ROT.  Vico writes: The human mind is naturally inclined by the senses to see itself externally in the body, and only with great difficulty does it come to underestand itself by means of reflection.  This axiom gives us the universal principle of etymology in all languages: words are carried over from bodies and the properties of bodies to signify the institutions of the mind and spirit.  It is noteworthy that in all languages the greater part of the expressions relating to inanimate things are formed by metaphor from the human body and its parts and from the human senses and passions.  Thus, head for top or beginning; the eyes of needles and of potatoes; mouth for any opening; the lip of a cup or pitcher; the teeth of a rake, a saw or a comb; the beard of wheat; the tongue of a shoe; a neck of land; and arm of the sea; the hands of a clock; the heart for a center....  ALL WORDS ARE INHERENTLY PUNS IN WHICH EVOLVED DENOTATIONS OVERLAY LONG-LOST AND SOMETIMES IRRETRIEVABLE MEANINGS EXPERESSIVE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS THINKING OF THE HUMAN BODY; WHICH JOYCE CALLS  'ROOT LANGUAGE'.  Evolving detonations?  ROTE ROOTERS?  IS THAT WHAT WE ARE: ROTE ROOTERS?  More like root roters, I think.  SATOR ROTAS.  Satyrs rut us.   Part us, Pappas.  IN OPERA ONLY.  And in damp rotters of incarcaeseration.  AHH, CHALASAI YUGALA, APTOR MY OWNED HARDT.  A tie princess prisoned her own prints, horsebound titi fan, width intsex repellors, do moory a prattler of shtreet chest nullts -- bloussed chide.  DUN ROADS.  DUN OLD ROADS.  Eye lllands in the shtream.  PROVIDENTIAL FORM HAT.  Who is the ass siam girl?  HAVEN'T YOU SEEN HER BEFORE?  In a shtream ile hand?  DRINK HARDER.  In a fidge eye seed eur ruff fraction, hop sword darned.  HIPPLE HIPPLE.  The ice art hun grey but the urds can't heat.  BUD THEY CAN HERE.  Silent nod; oily nile.  DOWNDER, DOWNDER.  WHO IS DOWNDER?  Meeber and Meeber.  Dipto; dipto.  Doggery.  Dirt.  THE PULP ONE SCENE WOGGING DOWN THE WETS BLOOD RAID STRADE WIND OGRE BID CHIP LURKING FOR CRAWDADDYSODSMANN, LUCKING FOR HIS MIDGE.  Mud jet odd the inkside; genie us; he hags an aim.  CALL MEAL ID'S MALE.  COIL MEAD SUPPER EAGLE'S MOD EARNED MALE EVIL LANCE.  Rooks.  GED EUR HAMMER HAT HIER, BURR HAY WID A FLIP TO CARVE HER HOAR EARS WOVER IN THE CODDLED WADDER.  Log, down hair,  More purse son haul core S pond dents.  EEK,  YOU"RE SO TRACE PARENT.  It's covered with mod.  WHOSEITTWO?  Nigel Worsted Wool.  ENZY IS ONE OF THE SEVEN GRADE VISES.  Wand me tour eat it?  MUD BUTTER?  Ice hall.  NIgel:  I would argue that the female seems to save the male and the male seems to save the female and the female seems to destroy the male and the male seems to destroy the female.  But it is the son (the twin sons -- two in one) who actually saves the world.  The son is androgynous, black and white by turns.  The dark son (Shem) saves the world from the Father, when his tyranny becomes too great (the Sun's heat becomes too overpowering); and the light son (Shaun) saves the world from the Mother when her tyranny becomes too great (the Moon's horror becomes too nightmarish, the freeze life-threatening).  How does Jesus (or any sun hero) save the world?  By being the androgynous Son, the middle principle, the balance. In the world of politics, democracy is the balance, because it contains the father yang energy (right wing religious patriarchy) and it also contains the left wing yin energy (communist matriarchy) in a relative balance, where both voices are represented.  Democracy saves the world by defeating the day pole of fundamental religion, Naziism, and the night pole of fundamental anti-religion (sometimes called 'spirituality' -- intellectual 'night-ism'), Communism.  I FEEL ALL MIDST EMBOSSED TO REREEL HIS PRY VAT TORTS THITS WEIGH.  Lair most beam oar down hair.  TRY TOOTH FIND FAIRY GOOD LOOVE LARDERS DOWN HAIR.  Yes.  LUBED LADDERS TO L'IL ED'S LAY ROSE, IF YUKE ANNE.  Connought seat berry whale in this drake.  YOU'S A MATCH, HAMMERHEAD.  Nautch with all these gads of round hair.  One march and eye kid blue the lard of this ark of holiology carnivore.  FAIR IS WELL.  Monarch.  LUG CREEPER.  There's tubers' mad in here.  Storking to hy hangs like mud.  IF WE FOUNDLING MORE PERSON OLD RUBE PORTS IN STEEP WE CAN BOREY THIS MOODCRIMINAL WEND THEY SHAKE HIM IN THE GORD.  Hill half a worrier.  WHEN YOU HALF A WARRIOR WAD TOOL YOU GATE?  ONE HAB IS A SEWER AND THE OLDER SIB IS A BEEHIVE YOU'RE SYCOPHANTOLOGIST.  Johnjohny cock rum.  FLUFF LAY BARLEY.  Jersey's pence.  OLD GETHEROFFER ON TECH NUCKLE REALITY.  A LONG DOLLDO IN THE HONES OF MARSY.  Juggler Brink is a harrangueing jewdg.  He'll burry the old pens sold dyck, clodsman.  FREE THEET DOWN WIDOWED A STRAWNG TO GED HIS BREAD OUT.  Wag him up then.  NUT YAD.  HE'S A STREAMING OFAL IN AN OFAL'S PARIS DOSE.  WE ANGST IN NODE HOARRY, HARRY, ARE WE, TOM TOM.  Is at a sonic conic then?  BUTT YOUR HAIR TO THE GROOMED AND LID SEND LIKE ULL TONTO.  The sommed of whores says on the tone, if full jaloppy, carters bloomed.  THAT SMELL -- CAN'T YOU SMELL THAS MAIL.  The swill of Dodd's orisoned you.  MOON BOSSING.  Greevened ivage.  LARCENT.  YOU GAINT SEE.  THEM MAJORSTIC GALOSSHES THE MAGI GRAVEN STEW YOU DARN BLACK WING THE THE LIKENESS GOD ESS SOUND.  Infrared.  BELLOWED THE BELLOW NAMED BELLOWS.  Boxer that his ids are.  SHARKEY THAT HE'S GALLED BY FRINDERS.  A boldy shot; Frasier is down.  SHORE KEY'S CONSTRUCTION.  DOM DIG OBERLY THUD EVE'S RIBBER.  DON BE LIEB HOW MANY GORBS YOUR GONNA FINE THERE, DON DELUIGI.  Any more larders, oh Rattle of the Spinks?  HORNGRY MAN, I'M A HONRGRY MANK, MICHAEL DE LEON.  Man drank, on fagt.  MAID DAPPLE.  Man dragon adora of fishy in air aim.  DITS OF THE NIDESHANK FUMILY, ISADORA, WITH OVUM ATEN LEAPS, YARROW LUSH OR POPEL FLYERS, UNT LAGERED FURKERED ROODS MATHELAWCHEEKLY AT RIB ROOTED TWO WIDTH HORMONE ARGUBUTES: THE RIT OF THE MOANDORK FAMILY WAS JUICED TO PROMENOTE CONSCRIPTION, AGTING AS A CATHETERITIC OR ASS A NARCO TICK OR A SO POOR RIVULET.  Stop.  WAD?  Stoop ducking.  And s-s-s-tart dicking.  MOONLIGHT LIKES MY HAND HERE.  Dick faster!  Dick faster!  SPOON ME, SPONDEE!  A RIVER ANT THEOLOGY SPIDERS A SOUL ILL OF KEYS OF FORM ADDS.  Weird are the others.  NO WARDER THAN THOUT.  No wider than thought.  Perhapbs.  Butt war is the fallow width plaid out's crumb pass tam plate?  MUST HE APPEAR AT THY WILT, ROTTER DAMER?  Isn't he supports too far low?  Glocken spiel.  ALWAYS AT YOUR ARDOR, GILGEN STURN.  A dead cipher's a dead sipper, moietly, race jowls.  YOU UNDERSPEAK TO OVERSTAND THAT YOU AND I ARE WON.  WON END DITTY.  I DARN MY BACH TO THE TOILED, AND BEDARN BLACK; I DURN MY FETCH TO THE WITAL, AND I BECRUMB WIDE LIGHT.  DEUX BRATTERS BESCREAM UN FRIER FOR THE WHEATED WEIRD ALL TO BEERFORM FOR.  Man dragon angora of baby fishy with that in sext pliant.  SMALLING LIKE WORT CHINKEN DENT BUTT TOASTING LIKE BARBY FUDGE WHEN YOU GATHER IN THE MOTTLE.

 

                                   

 

Common scene next?  COMET SEA NECHT?  Where are the olders?  THEY WET TO SHORT AND THE PORQUES SATE HEMP.  Have a neuter talk on slots doobie brother moonbather.  WILLET MAKE ME HEIL OR LOAD, DEAR BROTH EAR?  Bolts.  Bolts in the knock.  FRANK INCENTIVE.  Down her?  DOWN HER IS WHERE THE MONSISTER FORMS, BORROW WOLF.  Monster being hour ice salt; or perhaps the baby fish over there over there who personed hurled Cain Mark and tied a chest boy's nuts insight of heer privotted parters for lock.  LOG, STORK AND BARE ALL.  Buy; and the monstel scisstors.  YOU WELD NUE HER WENDT YOU MATE HEER.  Worlds mounting up on top of here and beak corning sictual.  ARE YOU BALDING EUR SERF YOUR OLD LABORANTH ABOUND WEDGE YOU WALL CAN PADS RUFFLY OTHER WEIGHTS TOWARD THE CORE?  IN THIS CAD TREE THRALL YOU BILLED FROM WRODES AROUND THE BILLOCK YOU BILLET FOR WOGGING.  Frag.  Frag frock.  I'M MIENS FACIAL STORK TOOL MERE ROAR.  Om mean goth regal -- when ments were gauze and gals wend up to angle lands plante vert shoe.  ODDS THIS IS POVETRY OR AUTS THIS IS PODDERY?  Clay cunt sucrosion.  PARME DOAN?  Witch is neckst?  PART ONE?  Leg to Locke.  Leg to Luck.  Leg to larvae.  Larvae to loveluck.  LEX OF GAIN.  LEX OF LEXOR LET SHER LEC TORA.  I seem you are bilking again to sum crest condor of egg spoon netural spass modic of heap if animmanic deif fun fantisimal good side.  WHET?  Bragging into swan like JoeJoe Cogger mide giving us hedge cog realweight or some king of ged buy widown lottle hop from must frend.  EYE'D CRIME AN EVER OVER YUDE.  Licks a can of meat afford and pregleam like glownorms and eyelighting bags and fifelies ennigerating muumglide from theylid gloves refragtected nigget treams from wishin.  VAT OF VISTIC AMORAMISSEDSTICK CANNED SCIENCE COMING ON LAID DEAR.  AFTEER THE FUND IS FIDGED OUD OF THE SEEP BLUED DAY.  Stopper eggoff.  RUMPULESS AND CREAM US.  Leg, dear.  After the sunk settles of a sanicreed deedless conviviends of weaker nets.  STAY WHAT YOU MEAN TO STAY, FREED NOGGER.  Pssh.  Eyegone shield.  WASH, CHEW, SAY?  Cunt you ebon stain to raze your I lad?  Shew me you can't doe it.  Race it up, shomble fag ster.  Rash it ob to shone me youor nocked dud, duskfeller, rockyboy whit scone in your pot gords and bennies on your styes, lashed down to lesh's lib grottoes by the mulled lemmings in'em, en sight the stem murmuring nombres of the vide, the vote, the viewed.  AHAB'S BAHAR.  Lex.  Lex estabunch owner's thing when dale oats gonad buck.  Locke for the ruined bow when the reignnet strom brags down and the dollyvarden moorednight eve oaks herzelf as razor rector on the sonne, doldor gataed from pauver ties and dolt war ship of the darkened won, the colt sure gods, go it dolls, fatter hay dears, cow'ds and cowlers, jibing breadth to the my call, nut doobie gun fused with mohammed dan, lex of cue door that his dids, man infestor wit his largolingo infidelio galling for oregon firs to be felled dead when the firdst cutter cuddles the clay cord, caulling himcells the God Wid Doubt Nomen.  UND AMBLE FLY THE NORT SURE OF THE PLENUMTUDE OB COLLARS M MAN EIGHTING FROM A BLAGZOIL OF A BLOCK ON WIDE ERRATA SIR CUT TREE THRODST OB OUOGHTTA ORTH AS RAIN BOWS AND THE SAVEN CELLERED GOILS COME UP OUT OF THE DARG DARTH BOOMERANG STROMS.  JOYBD's REIGNBOY CURLS IN GURDLES LIDING UP THE DAWN'S KITE.  Yes, there was that skew arch of chrome sweet home, floodlit up above the flabberghosted farmament and bump where the camel got the needle.  Talk about iridecencies!  Ruby and beryl and chrysolite, jade, sapphire, jasper and lazul.  RED, ORANGE, YELLOW, GREEN, BLUE, BROWN, PURPLE.   Tides white short.  SIN OF MA.  Cube brick cobbled stoned.  LUXORLESS.  Luxorlass.  DOPED WE KNOW THAT THE RAINBOW GIRLS APPEAR ONLY AFTER THE LIGHT OF DAWN RETURNS.  The rainbow girls of love?  LOVELEX.  The stromgottess of bark and whine dubbattle in the skides, altarwitch of fears immersage the rainbow doters.  LEX.  FROM LEGS.  DIAMOND.  DOG.  YEARS.  HER GRASS.  GREEN.  PARTY. BOYS.  ALTAR.  PRIEST.  JUDAS.  HIS CHARIOT.  ROME'S.  RAZZMATAZZ.  JOPLIN,  MISERY.  KING.  EVEN.   HANDEDNESS.  Coming around the bend, up ahead, no manner wed you halt been tolled, or mayhap come to beloved, always, there is trouble.  There is no pan of sea air.  There is no apt of mum wreck-concealed legation guaranteed to ward off doze asters or even the legendary culled lapses of the wing's stern world.  These are all fan-tossed seas of old women telling his stories to the muted little sea urchin children cab toured in their beds at night, rapt-turned odd densities in their pj's waiting for the cold appearance of Captain Loon and his marmeduke seed girls.  Trouble.  Congealing with a cab bottled tea and deadending with this mild casement eased oud of witch ob errant doters of in venereal capped ton seas half risen rides high into the offal heaven dent tories to duel battle with the age Nancies of corp of real angles gloaming down von hidest clouts to strike de icers with the bolt oudda the blew.  Wind patters, fattening them cells on bobby bays and of the cereal native videos debrushing end from cosmic cosmoterriers and from the gal ahead intern nationals old being stung by the orcas cestus and his band of mary piccolos oboeing a whaling tone of reb volitions.  Trouble bled blue by the foisterors cat of pelting brat packs add the wails of the eld established mens and all their paid read ark keys segging a whirled odor biased on the try omphalus of the barber aryans and their scan dolorous and dim only tory hair.  And christen chins of coarse.  Stubblemating only the oilest accords of the friend's michael mass and his pro dictions inculcating a torrid wierd war old bedouin a rabbi and a cross tamed herd.  An eye slim and a war stern red surrection given as vista song by don's orderliest alite grooming up, alas, fromme the dun jins of the midnoought doormen.  Mid doubt tour men mean acing the day sent daybuilding fatters of an earlier harm money wed children all coodled up around his form of leaves homme.  AND WART OF LEGS?

 

 

 

 

LESSON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LEGEND

 

 

 

 

legendry

 

 

 

 

legendary

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

M.English

 

 

 

 

legende

 

 

 

 

(story of a

 

 

 

 

saint's life)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

O.French

 

 

 

 

lecon

 

 

 

 

(lesson)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LECTURE

M.Latin

 

 

 

lectern

legenda

 

 

 

lector

('things for

 

 

 

 

reading')

 

 

 

PRELECT

 

 

 

 

prelection

Latin

 

 

 

(a reading in

lectio

 

LEGIBILITY

 

public)

(a reading;

 

legible

 

 

a picking out)

 

 

ILLEGIBLE

Latin

 

 

ECLECTIC

illegibility

lectura

Latin

COLLEGE

 

 

(a reading)

legendus

collegiate

Greek

French

 

(a reading)

collegium

eklektos

LECTURE

Latin

 

 

(selected)

(reading)

legere

Latin

COLLEAGUE

 

 

past participle

legere

 

L.Latin

French

lectum

past participle

Latin

legibilis

lecteur

present par-

lectum

collega

 

(reader)

ticiple

present par-

(one chosen

Greek

 

legens

ticiple

to serve with

eklegein

L.Latin

(1.  to collect,

legens

another;

(to single out)

legibilis

gather, pick,

(1.  to collect,

partner in an

 

 

pick out;

gather, pick,

office)

Greek

Latin

(2. with the eyes:

pick out;

 

ex-

lectura

to scan, survey,

(2. with the eyes:

Latin

(out) +

(a reading)

read

to scan, survey,

collegium

legein

 

 

read

(association,

(to gather)

Latin

*    *    *

 

fraternity)

 

legere

LEGITIMACY

*    *    *

 

Greek

past participle

legitimate

LEGATE

Latin

legein

lectum

legitimist

legation

com-

future

present par-

 

 

(together) +

lexo

ticiple

ILLEGITIMACY

legacy

legere

1.  to gather;

legens

illegitmacy

 

(to choose)

pick up: to

(1.  to collect,

 

M.Latin

 

gather for

gather, pick,

Latin

legatia

Latin

oneself;

pick out;

legitimus

(bequest)

legare

2. to reckon,

(2. with the eyes:

(lawful)

 

past participle

coung: tell,

to scan, survey,

 

Latin

legatus

say, speak)

read

Latin

legatio

(to choose;

 

 

lex, legis

(a delegated

select; appoint;

Latin

*    *    *

(a set form of words;

authority)

bequeath)

legere

INTELLIGENT

law; contract;

 

 

past participle

intelligence

rule)

Latin

leg-

lectum

intelligible

 

legare

 

present par-

 

leg-

past participle

*    *    *

ticiple

INTELLECT

 

legatus

RECOLLECT

legens

intellection

*    *    *

(to choose;

recollection

(1.  to collect,

intellectuality

DILIGENT

select; appoint;

 

gather, pick,

 

diligence

bequeath)

LEGION

pick out;

Latin

 

 

 

(2. with the eyes:

intellectus

PREDILECTION

leg-

M.Latin

to scan, survey,

(understanding,

 

 

recoligere

read

comprehension)

M.Latin

*    *    *

past participle

 

 

diligentia

NEGLIGENT

recollectum

*    *    *

Latin

(carefulness,

negligence

(to gather

LEGISLATE

intelligens

attentiveness)

 

again)

legislator

(understanding,

 

NEGLECT

 

legislature

intelligent)

Latin

 

Latin

 

 

prae

Latin

legigo

PRIVILEGE

Latin

(before)

neglegere

Legionis

privileged

intelligere

 + diligere

past participle

(a choosing;

 

past participle

praediligere

neglectum

a chosen body)

Latin

intellectus

(to prefer)

present

 

privilegium

present participle

 

participle

Latin

(an exceptional

intelligens

Latin

neglegens

colligere

law; favoring

(to perceive

dis-

(to overlook,

past participle

an individual)

understand)

(apart)

ignore)

collectum

 

 

legere

 

(to gather

Latin

Latin

(to choose)

 

together)

privus

inter-

 

Latin

 

(single) +

(among)

*    *    *

neg-

Latin

lex, legis

 + legere

Latin

(not)

com-

(law)

(choose,

legere

 + legere

(together) +

 

gather)

past participle

(to gather)

legere

Latin

 

lectum

 

(to gather)

legis lator

*    *    *

present par-

*    *    *

 

legis

Latin

ticiple

Latin

Latin

(of law0 +

legere

legens

legere

legere

lator

past participle

(1.  to collect,

past participle

past participle

(proposer,

lectum

gather, pick,

lectum

lectum

bearer)

present par-

pick out;

present par-

present par-

 

ticiple

(2. with the eyes:

ticiple

ticiple

Latin

legens

to scan, survey,

legens

legens

lex, legis

(1.  to collect,

read

(1.  to collect,

(1.  to collect,

(a set form of

gather, pick,

 

gather, pick,

gather, pick,

words; law;

pick out;

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

pick out;

pick out;

contract; rule)

(2. with the eyes:

 

(2. with the eyes:

(2. with the eyes:

 

to scan, survey,

leg-

to scan, survey,

to scan, survey,

leg-

read

proto Indo-

read

read

 

 

European

 

 

*    *   *   *

*    *   *   *

(to pick, to

*    *   *   *

*    *   *   *

 

 

gather; pick out

 

 

Greek

Latin

select)

Latin

leg-

legein

legere

* * * * * * *

legere

 

future

past participle

*    *   *   *

past participle

Latin

lexo

lectum

 

lectum

legare

1.  to gather;

present par-

leg-

present par-

past participle

pick up: to

ticiple

 

ticiple

legatus

gather for

legens

Latin

legens

(to choose;

oneself;

(1.  to collect,

lex, legis

(1.  to collect,

select; appoint;

2. to reckon,

gather, pick,

(a set form of words;

gather, pick,

bequeath)

coung: tell,

pick out;

law; contract;

pick out;

 

say, speak)

(2. with the eyes:

rule)

(2. with the eyes:

Latin

 

to scan, survey,

 

to scan, survey,

re-

Greek

read

Latin

read

(away) +

lektos

 

legalis

 

legare

(picked out,

Latin

 

Latin

(to send)

chosen,

e-

O. French

religere

 

spoken)

(out) _

loiel, leial

(to recollect,

Latin

 

legere

(legal; faithful

reconsider)

de-

Greek

(to pick out;

to obligation)

 

(from) +

dia-

select)

 

Latin

legare

(between) +

 

LEAL

sacer

(to send)

legein

Latin

 

(sacred) +

 

(to talk)

eligere

looyalist

legere

Latin

 

present participle

loyal

(to gather up,

relegare

Greek

elegans

LOYALTY

take away

(to send away)

dialegein

past participle

*    *    *

 

 

(to talk, reason)

electus

 

Latin

Latin

 

(to pick out,

Latin

religio

delegare

Greek

select)

legere

(scrupulousness,

(to send away)

analektos

 

past participle

strict observance)

 

(choice,

elegance

lectum

 

M.Latin

select)

ELEGANCE

present par-

Latin

delegatus

 

 

ticiple

sacrilegus

 

Greek

electoral

legens

(temple-robber,

RELEGATE

dialektos

election

(1.  to collect,

stealing sacred

 

(discourse)

ELECT

gather, pick,

things)

delegacy

 

*    *    *

pick out;

 

delegation

analects

 

(2. with the eyes:

sacreligious

DELEGATE

ALALECTIC

leg-

to scan, survey,

SACRELEGE

 

 

 

read

 

 

dialect

Latin

 

religiosity

 

dialectical

lex, legis

Latin

religious

 

dialectics

(a set form of words;

e-

RELIGION

 

DIALECTIC

law; contract;

(out) +

*    *    *

 

 

rule)

legere

 

 

 

 

(to pick out;

Latin

 

 

Latin

select)

legere

 

 

legalis

 

past participle

 

 

 

Latin

lectum

 

 

illegality

eligere

present par-

 

 

ILLEGAL

present participle

ticiple

 

 

 

elegans

legens

 

 

legalism

past participle

(1.  to collect,

 

 

legalize

electus

gather, pick,

 

 

legality

(to pick out,

pick out;

 

 

LEGAL

select)

(2. with the eyes:

 

 

*    *    *

 

to scan, survey,

 

 

 

French

read

 

 

Greek

elire

 

 

 

legein

(to select);

Latin

 

 

future

past participle

com-

 

 

lexo

elite

(together) +

 

 

1.  to gather;

(choice, select)

legere

 

 

pick up: to

 

(to gather)

 

 

gather for

eligibility

 

 

 

oneself;

ELIGIBLE

Latin

 

 

2. to reckon,

 

se-

 

 

coung: tell,

elitist

(apart) +

 

 

say, speak)

elitism

legere

 

 

 

ELITE

(to choose)

 

 

Greek

*    *    *

 

 

 

lexis

 

Latin

 

 

(a speaking:

leg-no-

colligere

 

 

speech, word)

 

past participle

 

 

 

Latin

collectum

 

 

Greek

legumen

(to gather

 

 

lexikos

(bean:<

together)

 

 

(of words)

a thing gathered)

 

 

 

 

 

O. French

 

 

alexia

leguminous

cuillir

 

 

DYSLEXIA

LEGUME

(to pick out,

 

 

 

*    *    *

select)

 

 

lexicography

 

 

 

 

lexical

log-o-

CULL

 

 

LEXICON

 

 

 

 

*    *    *

Greek

collection

 

 

 

logos

COLLECT

 

 

 

I. 1.  the word by

*    *    *

 

 

 

which the inward

 

 

 

 

thought is expressed;

leg-

 

 

 

2.  inward thought

 

 

 

 

itself; II.  1.  word:

leg-no-

 

 

 

language;

 

 

 

 

2. discourse; report;

Latin

 

 

 

story.  III.  thought,

legare

 

 

 

reason, reckoning)

past participle

 

 

 

 

legatus

 

 

 

Greek

(to choose;

 

 

 

logikos

select; appoint;

 

 

 

(belonging to

bequeath)

 

 

 

speaking or

 

 

 

 

speech; or to

Latin

 

 

 

the rational

lignum

 

 

 

 

(firewood:

 

 

 

(suffixal -logy,

that which

 

 

 

 -ology)

is gathered')

 

 

 

anthropology

 

 

 

 

etymology

Latin

 

 

 

philology

ad-

 

 

 

psychology

(toward) +

 

 

 

etc.

legare

 

 

 

 

(to send,

 

 

 

(suffixal -logue,

charge)

 

 

 

 -logy)

 

 

 

 

syllogism

Latin

 

 

 

prologue

allegaire

 

 

 

paralogism

(to send on

 

 

 

monologue

a mission)

 

 

 

horologe

 

 

 

 

homologos

ligneous

 

 

 

epilogue

LIGNITE

 

 

 

eclogue

 

 

 

 

dialogue

allegation

 

 

 

decalogue

alleged

 

 

 

catalogue

ALLEGE

 

 

 

apology

 

 

 

 

apologue

 

 

 

 

analogue

 

 

 

 

etc.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(prefixal logo-)

 

 

 

 

logarithm

 

 

 

 

logogram

 

 

 

 

logocentrism

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

logistics

 

 

 

 

logician

 

 

 

 

logical

 

 

 

 

LOGICAL

 

 

 

 

A black cat, hit by a truck, dying in the road.  A young woman picks her up and carries her to the pet hospital.  DEATH COMING IN AGAIN.  THE LOW MEN POSTING SIGNS ABOUT LOST PETS ON TELEPHONE POLES.  Lowman.  Willie Loman.  NOG TOURNAL BREADTH EGATING DUST.  Wan develoobmound in blank.  RHODES BUD.  What?  RHODES BOD.  I seal eur leeching.  SPIRALDING.  GATHER INTO PICK INTO CHOSEN ONES.  GATHER INTO LAW INTO APPOINT INTO LAY GOO MAN.  Vegan megan, you meat?  GATHER INTO PICK INTO READ INTO RECKON INTO SPEAK INTO LOGOS, SPOKE AND WORD.  Gathering, understanding, into law into gathering vegetables, into civilization, college and all the rust.  LEG OF SEEDS.  Lealty.  ELM HER GANTRY.  Come on out and Dan's child; come on out and make Romans.  VANGUARD OF MORE SONS.  Privus legis.  PRIVILEGIUM.  OF THE FATHER.  FOR ONE ZONE OVER THE OTHER SONG.  Id's a meavellous knight for a moondanse width thull stars hubub up in the sky, a phantombulous kneed to make Romans knead the culver of Gog' sober ayes.  You no, the Nile's mordsick steams a wimps pur and humps; and all the sot's moonshine seems to gush in your blush.  Can eye eye just half half one more ore moonlie height width you, meye eye lub.  QUEEN MOB, CAN WE JEST RISE UP EUR SQUIRREL GIRT JEST A TAD AND LEAPT MY PUMMEL INTO SIDE YOU, EVEMAKER DEAR, A TINY ROMANS COMMON OUD SOON FROM THE NEEDLEYE OF THIS SKINPRICK?  Raise hight he roofbeam, carpenter!  AHH, SUCH A SHINER IN YOUR BLUISH.  IF ID HAD HAIR ON IT.  Stop.  WAD.  Stop the seemysideshow, suckersville.  Stop the con act.  All ill shall begum if you warrant a cool cool chillin'.  IN DE RAIN.  Ins that Sauvie Focker over there in the stream bathing her private ports, worsting away someone's blood?  POOR CHILD.  SHE HAS HER MOONLEAVES.  LOOG THE OTTER WAY SEW YOU WOOD KNOT GOLD BLAND.  Gold ring, red ring, Polly on the moan.  WEIRD DYING TO REB BLAZE OLD HIDEST EURONHER JAGGED BRINK WID A POLYNOMIAL SOOT OF GUIDE, CHARLES ELD BRIENT.  IF WIG CAN MAGE THIS OLD CHASEHIM WHEEL BE SHITTIN IN THE GOOFBOARD SHEET.  Laud that grimey law herd man, dearshowshits.  He can git a widebeeder off buy clamming she washed de dibble -- or washed a child polyester or sump kinder ding.  IN DAY NOMEN OF HORMONE RIDES, I'M MEAN.  IN DER NUMEN OF SYPHIL RIDES DUE.  Get rid of old clean Clods there -- heal may be a nights guy butt he halos no wrecked cord of winning winning wanning.  Hire that Dishofwarts fella.  He good god off the sunner of Sam, Jagger the Rapper, or even old dustday fidelio humpself, old factshand stalker, Chef Ray Doomer.  Hail, he dig god doff Osaycanyousee Sump Son -- nod two be gunfused with the Oldsaycanyouseeher Homer or his sun-sun-sunner Bard -- went he gadgeted dat purdy blonde lustfister in the gardenias that night, under moanlight, flasking a slungblade a cross he made on her pearlwide drought.  If he can get the blagfloatballer off, he can even get offal hungbland Crossmann maker off tooth.  WELL STAID.  Dring ga water.  WATER?  Dring ga vater, venery soon.  Gadding dry.  Neat foot too.  WEDGING AWRY DO NOTHING.  Slashing her druid; than druning the bluet.  HUNG THE BASE TURD!  TALE HIM TO THE NOREST DRAWER!  HANK HIM HIGH, ON THE NE'EREST EAST WOOD!  A side.  A side.  Eve. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

¥

 

 

 

 

 

 

Logocentrism

 

 

 

Diligent

 

 

LOGOS

 

Intelligent

 

Predilection

 

Negligent

 

 

Intellect

 

 

 

Neglect

Logic

 

 

 

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

 

 

Lexicon

¥

Elect

*

 

*

Religion

 

LEGUME

Elegant

*

leg-

*

Sacrilege

Dyslexia

Lignite

 

*

proto Indo-

*

 

Analectic

 

Elite

*

European

*

Loyalty

 

Allege

Eligible

*

(to pick, to

*

Sortilege

Dialectic

Delegate

 

*

gather; pick out

*

 

Eclectic

 

Select

*

select)

*

Legal

 

College

Cull

*

* * * * * * * * *

*

Leal

Legibility

Relegate

 

 

*    *   *   *

 

 

Illegible

 

Collect

 

 

 

Legislate

 

Colleague

Recollect

 

Privilege

 

Illegal

Lecture

Legacy

*     *     *

 

Illegitimate

 

*     *     *

Lecteur

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

 

Legitimacy

 

 

 

Lesson

 

 

Legate

 

Legend

 

Prelect

 

 

 

 

Legion

 

 

 

 

HIGH TILLED LOAD.  HEIGHT 'TILL LOW.  Urine usering a daberrant scam matter now, most sewn.

 

 

                                               

 

THE VEGETABLE IS ON ONE END, LES LEGUMES.  AND THE LOGOS IS ON THE OTHER.  And Logocentrism.  ROOTED IN THISWORLDNESS.  Heilowell.  THURSDAY YET?  Tell me more about the wander.  WEIRD NUT RODDY YET, MATE YATES.  WE'RE STILLED IN THE RAGNOR ROCK.  WEAVE HAG UNT GOTT DOUBT OF THE ROG YET, MARTY.  Pall cocks; pall cocks; shiv holed up in the rocks, the block rogues, silly phosphorous.  ROLL THAT ROCK, FASTER, FASTER!  Wondering.  Chew!  PLOD DAY TOE.  TURN HIP.  BEET OFF.  BEATLE OFF.  GLAND YOUR YAM YAMS OUT.  PERSNIPPITY BUNCH OF BRITTLE BROKERS BREAKING OFF LIKE IDES.  TOOFOOT DEEP.  ROOD OF BORGIAS.  STRIP HIM UP.  GAROTTE THE BLASE TURD.   Tell me the story of the waiter.  THE WATCHER?  Yes.  The watcher.  Howl dad the rood grope crow onlass there was no streaming watcher on the swordfish?  INCH HIDE AT LEAST.  Howl dad the rootlerattles good doubt slide.  SLIDE?  Yes.  Slide.  Please.  (A ROW LEGION OF SWORDS.)  Mister Grossmattermann, are you still with us?  It seemed like you had nodded off there for a minuet.  (How can you see in here with those dargk glasses anywho?)  MaJiC Glasses.  Mordic specs.  OF COURSE, YOU WILL BE TESTED ON ALL THIS INFORMATION; AND YOU WILL BE REQUIRED TO DRAW (OR PAINT) THE MOLECULAR FORMS IN THE SNOW.  (Piss de gateau.)  NOW WE CAN MOVE ON TO SOLID STATE CHEMISTRY AND SUPERCONDUCTORS.  Solid state?  YES, OF COURSE.  YOU CAN'T KNOW THE PLAYERS WITHOUT A PROGRAM.  Hue it out, then.  BY ALL MEANS: YOU'D DOUBT, PERHAPS, BUT PLEADS NOT IN FRENCH.  Oxides like silica are normally insulators because the electrons are intimately associated with the individual bonds or ions. Metals can conduct because the electrons are relatively free. But there are oxides that can become metallic conductors, or even superconductors. The most interesting contain 'mixed valence' atoms such as copper that can give up a variable number of electrons when bonding. According to Pauling's ideas about chemical bonds, by looking at the co-ordination of these atoms, we can usually tell something about their valence. For example, look at the co-ordination of copper in one of the new ceramic oxide superconductor ¦YBa2Cu3O7 (YBCO). The copper (Cu) are the green atoms, the oxygen are as usual red and barium is blue. Clearly there are two kinds of copper atom - those that are co-ordinated by 4 oxygen atoms (green squares), typical of divalent Cu++, and those that have a fifth oxygen atom (green pyramids). This material has zero electrical resistance even above the temperature of liquid air - cold but easy to produce and handle. This is truly amazing, and a few years ago would have been thought impossible.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

If we heat this remarkable superconductor in the absence of oxygen it loses one of its oxygen atoms and becomes the insulator YBa2Cu3O6 with a very similar structure. The oxygen is lost from one particular site; the chains of CuO4 squares.  Copper in these squares is left with only two oxygen atoms, typical of monovalent Cu+. Copper is said to have been 'reduced' from Cu++ to Cu+. Oxygen and superconductivity can be restored by 'oxidising' the copper again from Cu+ to Cu++. This solid state chemistry is clearly responsible for the unusual electrical properties.  Next slide.

 

                                               

 

CAN THERE BE ANY DOUBT, MISTER SHUFFLER, LOOKING AT THESE COMPLEX STRUCTURES, THAT A GOD DOES EXIST, DEEP BENEATH THE SURFACE OF EVERYTHING?  That's not my call to make, Mi.  I am a scientist.  I speak of what I can test in the lab.  I can testify, however, to the brilliance of atomic order and design.  (O SOLO MIO.  EGGS NOW OR NERVER.  CRUMB HOLD ME BLIGHT.  KIPS MEAL, MY DROOLING, BEAM NINE DO NIGHT.  DOOM MARROW WILL BE DOOM LAID.  EGGS NOW OR NERVER.  MY HUNGER'S GREAT.)  (She shall be ur wive, will she?)  (WHO?)  (The slant-eyed girl.  Aging girdles are ever so tight and wet -- that it's the legend.)  WOMEN YOU MEAT AND LOVE BUT DOUGHNUT MARRY AND NOT CARMEL LICK BOUND DUE YOU IN THIS LEAF.  THE ONE YOU MARRY YOU MARY PECAN OF LUST LIFE'S SINCE.  You are speaking funny, sir.  I'm not sure I can comprehend you.  Speak faster!  Speak faster!  CARMEL CARMEL.  TAFFY TAFFY.  (I'mp begging fellowed brine a moonshattered.  Moonhatter's moonshattered.  Leaping and hopping on a moonshattered.  Moonsplattered moonshattered.  Allah bin; Allah muckshortered.)  (I THINK HE'S SINGING FOR YOU, MI.  HE'S LOOKING OVER HERE, SMILING AT YOU.  IS THAT A GUITAR HE'S PLAYING -- MISTER SHORTER NADER.  Shorter Nader?  TROOBLED ARDOR.  Troobled hearter?  DARG FALLOW, AINT HE?  STRUMMIN THAT GATOR, HIS HAIR ALL STRAGGIN DOWN, HIS CLOSEUPS DIRTY -- HE AINT BUD SKINFLINT AND BODINGS.  WIT THEM SPOTTERS ON HEMP AND THEM ANDS AND BOTTLES AND INSITEOUTERS AND MAGGIES.  I'D WEDGE OUT FOR HUMP, IF EYE WERE TWOS.  (Showed me pictures in the gallery, showed me novels on the shelf, put my hands caress the table, gave me no ledge for myself.)  (I GROOM AND 'SPAND AT EVERY DOOR, BUT NOON ONE HEARS MICE ADD RIPLEY.  I AXE FOR NUT THINK FOR MICE CELT, FOR I AM LOADS, FOR I AM COST.)  (No, you're mad sing the glue.  'Them ands and bottles' berried in the dirge.  Watt does that duel incite your drain?  'Ands and bottles'; and that cued acing girl overt there.  Howbowed: I wanna hold your hand?  I wanna hold your oar ha ha ha ha ha and?  I wanna hold your ha aaaaaaaaaaaaa and?)  (VERY INCH STINCTIVE.  BUT MY HUNCH IS IT BUNCHES.)  (Mi Wing looks across the rome at Crossmann.  This manacles him nerves vast.)  WON'T YOU COME HOME, BILL BAILEY.  WON'T YOU COME HOME.  SHE MOANS THE WHOLE DAY LONG.  I'LL DO THE COOKING, DARLING; I'LL PAY THE RENT.  I KNOW I'VE DONE YOU WRONG.  'MEMBER THAT RAINY EVENIN I DROVE YOU OUT.  WITH NOTHING BUT A FINE TOOTH COMB?  I KNOW THAT I'M TO BLAME -- WELL, AINT IT A SHAME?  BILL BAILEY, WON'T YOU PLEASE COME HOME....?  (Dead silence.  Grossmorph expects a long cane to appear from offstage to noose him around the neck.)  SHH.  WE'LL BE TESTED ON THIS.  (Sexist lug.  He's a died nooser.  A died nooser.  A real tetragrammaton.  A reel tired runt king if ever'd rex redoomed us.  Doughnut look at him anymore.  He's looking at you like the earl of sandwich.  Watering his mouth as if you word a monster or mates out of sweats or you were a charter or about to bray.)  (THE EARL OF SAINTWITCH OR THE EARL OF WARREN -- EITHER WEIGHT, ID MAY BEAT TIME TO DUCK.)  (Arbitrary art bought rory.)  OH, THAT SMELL.  GAUNT YOU SMELT THAT SMELT?  Game!  Umbert!  SHH.  THE PEE ACHES DEED IS DRYING TO SPEECH.  Yet it is not the CuO4 chains that are responsible for the superconductivity in YBCO. Many similar materials, which conduct at even higher temperatures, can be made by replacing these chains by layers of other materials, such as heavy metal oxides. Neutron diffraction from oxide superconductors indicated that oxidation of these charge reservoir layers results in the formal oxidation of the planes of copper oxide pyramids (Cu++ to Cu+++), due to 'charge transfer'.  This empirical understanding of solid state chemistry in YBCO, which resulted from the ILL Grenoble's most cited paper, lead directly to the discovery of many other similar superconducting materials.  Please show the slide of these reservoir layers.

 

                                               

 

AHH.  Now isn't that quiet a maze sing?  SPICK FASTER, METALBLASTER!  Pardon hay, ma?  THE BODY OF NEATURE IS DROLLY FLATBULAST!  FLATBULAST!   Farrrt rrrrrrippp sssssppppeww.  OH, SMELL THAT SMELL.  (The smell of debt surrounds you, Master Karmalblaster.)  HE'S LOOGING AGAIN.  DON'T LOOK!  He's a topic mange.  He only wallets to slobber on you.  SLOBBER ON YOUR BREASTS TO BE EXACT.  Damn manks!  Can lib wit 'em; and you cain't murder 'em.  Add list nut yet.  Some deity will mage a law.  One's silence has master braided old Donna and old C-C-C-Cloneopatrick.  We wont bee neading thump any longer.  They make plodstick penii now that can go all nigh it.  I cain give you mind do try it owet.)  MISTER CRUSTTYMANN, DO YOU HAVE A GASTION?  Is a man being followed by a moonshadow being, in a motorphobic sense I mean, condumped to a start of depth or, mayhabs, inch stood, deed creed on the virge of sporadical rebirdth, like our freud, cattle stiff ends, on the thread sold to an endocrine duction to AL LA?  PARDON ME, I DIDN'T HEAR THE QUESTION.  Where is the bathroom?  YOU CANNOT LEAVE THIS ROOM UNTIL THE LECTURE IS COMPLETED.  Lecture is connected to Lunch Chore which is connected to Locks Her which is connected to Leaks Here.  (MY GOD, IT'S RUNNING DOWNEND HIS LEX, I'M OF HERD!  DOUGHNUT LOOK!  A WHOLE IN THE CENTER AND MATTER ALL AGROUND.)  A stream, a stream, my life for a stream.  MISTER CHAFER!  I THINK HE PIDDLED IN THE ROME!  Call esteemed guard at ones!  MAGE HIM LOG IT UP WITH HIS TONGS, MISSED HER SHAVER.  High cleft and low cleft.  Maitre D Flat.  CARE FOR A BITE?  Cheesecake?  CAMEMBERT IS SUPPOSED TO BE RUNNY.  Steiglitz your flingers in there and shag out ifs temp or tour.  MOO LAWN ROUGE.  I cunt see her in the drake.  Some body, turn oop the lite!  THING COUGH CHERRIES WHENCE YOU NIPPLE HER.  THING CUP HONEY WENT YOU NOBBLE THERE.  The warring of the green.  Plaited panties.  There must be a Mc Culloch in the woodpile somewhere.  Or a Mc Duff with a rod of red rood for some sister shiner, behinding her over a fine dish of pert stickers or a cobble of hot and sour nasty soup or a sweat and sour chewmine or an oxe straw oily pork her chow fun.  Let it ripe!  MOISTER CROSSMANN.  ARE YOU ALRIGHT?  WHY IS YOUR ARM MOVING SO FURIOUSLY BACK THERE?  YOU AREN'T LETTING THE DEVIL OUT, ARE YOU?  YOU CAN'T LET THE DEVIL OUT.  REMEMBER THAT.  EVERYONE HERE IS SITTING IN CLEAN UNDERWEAR.  AND THAT'S THE WAY IT'S GOING TO REMAIN.  AT LEAST UNTIL THE END OF THIS CLASS.  (Mi Wing smiles with adoration.  PHD CONNACHT! Crushedmaned motters.) WHERE WEREN'T WEED?  A garden full of foibles.  HE'S EDENED ALL THE ROTOR LARDNIBBLES ALL ROOTY.  HE'S DRYING TO WORD HIS WAY TO THE SOAR FACE!  Laities!  Hide your dumplings away!  Hide your plump puddings and your spilt beefers and your vain Nelly turnovers in a vory safe larder!  When he dogs his way bach to the sure face, the bountiful weirld is in dong eared!  Especially the purr ones, the flirters, the flutters and the girdles!)  (IF HE'S HORNGRY, BYME WE SHED JUDGED GIB HIM SUMTHING TO THESIS.)  (Sumone, you meant.  Nose ferret too.)  REMEMBER THERE IS A PLATE WHERE LIME AND DUCK DIVIDE.  Lime tents to rise; duck derelicts to duck dunder daughter.  A TINK, A TRINK, MIGHT KINK DOOMP FOR A TREENGK.  Doughnut look him in the ice!  Heek ang gill you wit his luck!  SHH.  THIS IS IMPORTANT!   The highest superconducting temperature (Tc) so far obtained is for a material, where the charge reservoir consists of mercury oxide; here Tc is 50% higher than in YBCO!  The mercury oxide (HgO) layers are drawn as a yellow 'rock salt' type structure, but actually the charge reservoir structure is much more complex, being typically not quite "commensurate" with the copper oxide layers; the so-called 'lone-pair electrons' on mercury further complicate the real structure. By understanding this subtle crystal chemistry we hope to make materials with even higher Tc's.  Slide.  Note how the structures are becoming more and more complex.

 

                                               

 

GREATER THOUGHTS, IF YOU WILL.  Pardon me.  GREATER THOUGHTS.  I don't understand that.  LONE GUNMAN THEORY.  You're losing me again, Mister Cruisemint.  (CARE FOR SOME YELLOW ROCK SALT TO EAT, SUMP RAY BAUGH?  Be nice to him!  OH, THAT'S SWEET.  MAKE HER FEEL SORRY FOR YOU.  YOU'LL HAVE YOUR THUMB IN THE PLUMB IN NOTE TIME.)  Man could not build a model of this complex form without the thought of it; and without a model from which to work.  How can Nature?  Does this appear to be some accident?  EINSTEIN SAYS THAT GOD DOES NOT PLAY DUNCE WITH THE UNIVERSE.  Dice, I think.  DIETS, WITH THE UNIVERSE.  Dice.  D - I - C - E.  DE-ICE THE UNIVERSE.  The virtual-visual is closest to the visual-virtual.  Is that what you are saying?  That the virtual-visual is closer than the virtual-verbal to the visual-virtual than is the verbal-virtual?  VIRTUE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!  I AM SPEAKING ABOUT EFFECTS, NOT CAUSES!  How can the tiny men have such perfect, well-constructed bodies?  And if they -- I mean we -- are so geometric on the inside, can we not be, too, geometric on the outside?  WALKING TETRAHEDRONS, IS THAT WHAT YOUR ARE SAYING?  Fahrting pent-pentagons.  WELL, YOU'LL NEED TO SPEAK WITH THE PYTHAGOREANS ABOUT THAT -- IF THERE ARE ANY STILL LIVING.  Billy Cruddup is a pythagorean -- isn't he?  JAUNE TRAVOLITTA.  No -- that's a Scenic Taller Guess.  NUMBERS QUAKE AND NUMBERS BREAK.  Numbers in the shade are made.  AND, BEING MADE, ARE THEY NOT ALSO DOMED TO DIET DOWN TO NODTHING?  Everything does.  It's just a madder of when, Hombre.  MUDSTER SWAIFFER.  DON'T LEGGET THEM PRATTLE ON DARING YOUR CLODS TIME.  These superconductor structures may appear complex, but in fact we can easily understand how they are related to the simple perovskite structure. The formula YBa2Cu3O7 may be considered as (YBa2)Cu3O9 or 3 units of perovskite 3x(A.B.X3) with 2 of the oxygen atoms removed.  Oxygen atoms must be removed to preserve charge/valence balance for the formula Y+++1Ba++2Cu+++1 Cu++2O--7. When further oxygen is removed the Cu+++ is reduced to Cu++ in the non-superconducting material, and the formula becomes Y+++1Ba++2 Cu++2Cu+1O--6.  Slide please.

 

                                               

 

DORMED RUSHKIN MORPHIA IS EVERYWHERE!  Pair off's kite?  I don't believe that is Russian.  WAD DEW YEW KNEW -- YOU GAINT SPEAK, YOU GAY'NT EVEN MOVIE.  On  a tied rope -- something on a tied rope.  GEMMING UP AND DOWN, UP AND DOWN.  YOU MEDS HAVE SOME BLOCKED BLOOD IN YOUR SHITSTER DOE BE OPALED TO JIM DAT ROBE LEG DAT.  INSITE YOUR SCROTTISH HAMSTER HANDLE, DAPPLED HAMLET BOY.  The original high temperature superconductor La2CuO4, for which Bednorz and Muller received the Nobel prize -- next slide, please -- can be recognised immediately as a member of the great perovskite family.

 

                                               

 

We believe that superconductivity is due to an interaction between electrons, the details of which are not yet fully understood. Interactions between magnetic moments, which are produced by the movement of electrons, result in other fascinating and useful materials - ceramic oxide magnets and giant magneto-resistive materials.   PAIR OF SKATES!  ITS MUZZLE BE RUSSIAN!  HOOT ELSE CALD IT BEAD?  Pere of Skalds up!  It good be many orders nyet!  AL CAPONE WAS A PIMP BEFORE HE BECAME A PRETTY BOY, FLOYD!  Los Broaders Perovskite.  DUSTY AUSSIE.  In the bottom, the two exist, site by site.  AND THEN?  And then then the riser splitds from the faulter.  DOTTERS DEAFTSLY.  Old topple sawyer and underwetter bottlehimian sawyer.  ONE UP OF; THE OTHER BE LOWERED.  All Gabon was a pinup biped he begimed a bonny boy, Clyde.  WE ARE MOVING INSIDE A GIANT'S BODY.  AND THAT GIANT IS MOVING INSIDE A BIGGER GIANT'S BODY.  AND THAT ONE INSIDE ANOTHER'S BODY.  AD INFINITUM.  (He spigs of the Rosian and the nicht thing you nose, he's roserecting gigantics eve or where you goat.)  YOU SEE THE MERE IMAGE: A TAUB DIMAGE, THAT OF THE TAP SAYER; AND THE BATTLEHYMN DOMMAGE HIER, TAD OF THE BADHIM SAUYR.  Tom Saurian and Huck Saurian.  ONE A TOMCAT, A MALE TURKEY; A LONG TOM SILVER, A TROTH FROM WORSHIPING GOLD OUT OF BASE MATTER; A SCROTUMISH HAT.  AND THE OTHER A HUCKSTER, ONE WHO LIES AND CHEATS, ONE WHO IS LAZY AND WHO COMES OUT IN THE DARK, CHEATING OTHER MEN AND SEDUCING THEIR WIVES.  A POWER OF DARKNESS.  One hump of the heavens; the other clump of the sodd.  ONE AN D'UNCLE TOM; THE OTHER A HUCKABACK, TORCH AND FEELY TYPE.  These cement conned daughters are a bumblem for the yoni verse and the dandy onan verse.  Ark a teutonically constucted.  MUTTER MAY I?  Sonnet you may.  SPIG PLOTS.  The impalpable atoms of gold scattered through the substance of a ton of auriferous quartz may be imperceptible to the naked eye of the miner, yet he knows that they are not only present there but that they alone give his quartz any appreciaable value; and this  relation of the gold to the quartz may faintly shadow forth that of the noumenon to the phenomenon.  But the miner knows what the told will look like when extracted from the quartz, whereas the common mortal can form no conception of the reality of things separated from the illusion which veils them and in which they are hidden.  Alone the initiate, rich with the lore acquired by numberless generations of his predecessors, directs the 'Eye of Dangma' toward the essence of things in which no illusion can have any influence.  WE LIVE AND MOVE WITHIN THE BODY OF A GIANT.  THE GIANT SLEEPS AND WE HAVE OUR MOVEMENT; THE GIANT MOVES AND WE HAVE OUR SLEEP.  PERHAPS.  Led the games beg in, ball brusker.  MOTLY: YOU MAY TAKE TIN BOBBY STEPS.  Mutter may I take ten boo\by steps away from you?  GED OLD DISHOFWURST IN HIER AND HAVE HIM SETTLE THIS DISAGORGEMENT FOR ODDS.  Walks the fee?  OH, BROODER, WHERE ART FOWL?  Kulak Asmayan.  REVENANT SONGER.  A massif novel, sognare.  MASSIF, INDEED.  A MOUNTAIN MASS FULL OF FAULTS.  I see the man who can't see is still full of humus.  EMPTIED OF HUMMUS, BUT FULL WITH HUMUS; EVEN EMPTIED OF HOMOS.  Wed chore French, friend of man.  WATCH YOUR MOVIE PLAY ON THE BAG CAST OF YOUR EYE LOADS.  A project room, running a movie: sin of ma.  EVE, YOU MEAN?  Sin of ma playing in toto Cinema Paradiso.  ON THE BAGS OF THE ONO MAN'S BLACKENED EYELIDS.  Chick pea that he is.  NONCLE KODAK.  Kodiak on Fuji Mountain.  POLE A RIDE FROM A CON OF KAYE.  Shh.  The movie is playing.  Tin Man on a Tied Robe.  Starring Victor Mature, with Sandy Dennis as Portia.  And with Shelly Winter as her neurotic, controlling, alcoholic ball-busting mother-may-I.  MADDER MAY I?  Red mocked with brun floral shas.  MIGSED FLATLY WITH A GELATIN BASS.  ROMAN TICK EYEGONE OGRAPHY.  (She's still overt there.  WHO?  The orient tail tattle teller.  NAPPLE 'BOLISHER.  Y don't U let R polish UR candeed dapple, Antagonista?  AYE.  Abbles in the eys and doll.  ARE YOU CANADIAN, THEN?  Only the badder pard of me.  Only be4 I waken from wooden wine wonderwondear.  AS TRUE AND AS STERILE AS A MONUMENTAL ACADEMY.  Kids hair on the jake.  WHAT?  Learn over thayer, and kitsch herd on the joke, Yanak.  Before Mister Zanak begins his reel-to-real agong.  WAHOO!  I THINGS EYES MOIST BED REAMING.  Eve on your ayelads all about; and the madam in the grief o lanoo tafl suit, Fu Fu.  His nose ink kills a mange arrow.  SARCOPTIC COPTIC SARCO PHAGUS, BENZINE.  Liding your friar, is thrall at the idora, Isadora of the sacred scared tarrif?  Beg grooming a monde unter the seraph phase of the moon for the missed bake cotton.  NON SEQUIT TOUR.  Wheat else is dear?  THE GIRL IN THE GRIEF-LAMELLAED SHIRT.  Doughnut lake him tet off his torsoshirt.  He aint got nose mussels like he used to, before the tide went wrong.  HE'LL LOOM HIDEOUS, LICHEN SOME ANIMAL MOUND LEFT FOR TOUTE LONG IN DE RIOTING SWAMPUM UNDERGROTT.  Is that hair on his chest, or kin turkey blow grouts pumping oud of his pig touralls?  DOUGHNUT LOOK, DEAR FELISE?  HE WARRANTS YOU DO-DO TANK PIETY ON HYMN.  It is like he is on a crash and everly brothers are forsched to take piety on hump.  Poured wide wail.  RHODES BUTT.  RHODES BODE.  Gedding closeter to torching the baton, the center of the mush terrorous glucose, Mister Pro Tem.  PROTON LOST MOMENT, TOM.  Reek chung outter to tudge the nook, Cleos -- the scenter of the atom, Mick, read diction.  CLOSING IN ON A YAWN THE PAP TITS; CLOSING IN, AGAIN, ON A YESU CHRISTOS IN THE HEURE BEFUD THE OPERA SPEAR HANDS OF THE MISTRUST.  SWEDE MARY MAGI DELANO, PLAID IN PARTS BY THE WONDER BURR HAG TRESS HERMIONE GINGOLD, AN EARLIER INCARNATION OF THE INDOMITABLE KATIE WIND SLIT WITH THE EGALLY WONDER BUNDER MEMORIES, HONIOUSLY DRINKY, HINIOUSLY SLINKY.  Passing from one ear out the other.  CAREFUL THAT HIS DUDS DON'T ROLL.  A METS TO PIG UP MILLET DODDS WHEN THEY FLASK ALL OVUM THE FLUORS LIKE THEY'LL KEN.  Likes down or likes up.  DEEPENS UP ON WOMB YOU ASK.  Bottomheavy sawyer wants to sit for a peas.  Lacy by nature; prone to agates of thiol walktraum.  Nut the toppledoppler soyer, who wickets for li-li-li-lathes and her phantableless pandermoaniums, the seben star lots in the coolers of the sieben collars of the riesen marblements of the Reagan brow: Led them clump inn, all staven of 'em, dressed all in the fablelust tents of maudlin design so lucky for the sohn's growliest untermpersense of arrows and thrust and love's horn grey peeled bales add dentive to the climb axe.  LED ID RING! LED ID RING!  GOD OF THE MARROW!  FILL UP THE CUP WITH THY MILK OF SHARP CHOLIC DE-LIBBER RANTS: BUTT THE CHILED INSUTRA HERB; PLANET THE SEED AND LET THE MONK OF NATURE'S PRAYERSIGN BEGIN, SEA KING ORDER AGAIN GIBBING UPRIGHT VALOR TO THE PLANS FOR A HAREM MONIOUS HOUR IN THE DON.  Part terrie arc.  The river gifts up her fluid and wraps the war terre aground the fire of the heavens poleing the girth up, filling her own scone with a tiny trumpet name COMET.  YOUR NOSE THAT VULCAN LIVES DOWN HERE, DOWN IN THE VERY CORE.  AND WHEN YOU, THAT VERY SAME BASE METAL, COMES TO HIM AND PLACES YOUR SOULED IN THE FIERY FORGE HOPIING FOR GOLD, YULE NEVER NO BEFORE YOU ARE FIRED WHET YULE COME OUT AS: HERO, GOD OR DROPSY DROP DROP.  IT IS DOWN FURTHER.  THE FORGE WIDTH THE HOLTEST FIRES IT'S ADD THE CORED.  FAD SHUNNING SPEARS.  Spears to make you feel giner points, Brittney.  The bouncing betties of a prettie talkter. Dawn chore.  FORRAGING FOR THE MORE CELLS INSIGHT OF RED'S RIDING MIGHTN'T HEAD.  Ahh, but that comes larder.  NOWDT, LARKING DOWN, DOWN TOWARD THE POINT OF REDUX, SEEKING THE FIE EAR AGAINST, FORD TO BRUN OFF THE DRAWS, FORD DUE CIPHER OF THE OX SAIDS.  Sly dick in whence shed earns.  TRUMPLE DOWN.  TREMBLE DOWN AGAIN, UNIT INSITE CIPHER.  Slide wad in watch?  TETE TROLL OF SCENE.  Toi nam mo.  FUDGE SHOOK ON MO.  Why can eye not move?  WEAR HALT YOU BURN?  Onimous ontology.  ANTOLOGY?  IS HE CLAWLING NOW?  I GNAT FEET HIM ON MY BUG TOE.  Id is your mamigination, Freight.  The light in your brun projags your three-throw thoughts on the slipper's eyelids -- your skald, be puppet or nut, is like the coven in Plato's cavelinear fung ton, shore doors cats a cross the site of the cape of stone.  War ching, I sing, the chat doves as if themes were reel.  PERPENT DICULAR TO THOR'ST, THE SALINE NATION MAKES IT HEARDER TO BREED HERE BY YOURS ELF.  Slide wedge in widge?  SLIB SLIDING AWAY.  SLIB SLIDING AWAY.  PHRACE SAVE THE NORER EUR DOOMSTINATION THE MOOR EUR SLIB SLIDING AWEIGHT.  Yids.  But Thale cannned scene empty thingmore -- ontly their own idol imagery, the pure fat cow.  SAD EUROPA; BALD EUROPA.  Balk ands still their eyes at nide.  SALT EUROPA; FAULT EUROPA.  Liding  be neat a fold line, breadth loss.  Doughnut moot toute munch.  WEEPY WEARY; WARPING WORRY.  Half you a nugget word to grind our gum song?  WINDCH?  Widch over you witsh.  MAN.  From the Sankrit Manoo, O Lanoo.  MUD YACK MORE.  MOOD YACK MODE.  Moon then.  THE HEAVENLY BODY GAUNT BE SCENE UND CHILLED THE NIGHED FALLS; AND THE SON  GOES UNDERGROOMED.  The bidshipman yonder gnomed bilds a sigh press tout of silly balls.  MENNACHIM BEGIN.  Or someday think like that.  SMARMADAY LOUIS, DOCTOR PHIL.  Half a luke inkside.

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

 

MENTIONABLE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AMENTIA

 

 

 

 

ament

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mention

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old French

 

 

 

 

mention

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Latin

 

 

 

 

amens,

 

 

 

 

amentis

 

 

 

 

(out of one's

 

 

 

 

mind)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Latin

 

 

 

 

mentio

 

 

 

 

(mention;

 

 

 

 

commemoration

 

 

 

 

by speech or

 

 

 

 

writing)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Latin

 

 

 

*     *     *

mens,

 

 

 

ANAMNESIS

mentis

 

 

 

 

(mind)

 

 

 

MNEMONIC

 

 

 

 

 

mn-ti-

 

 

 

mnemonics

 

 

 

 

 

mn-

 

 

 

Greek

 

 

 

 

anamnesis

*     *     *

 

 

 

(recollection)

REMONSTRANCE

 

 

 

remonstrate

 

 

 

Greek

 

 

 

 

mnemonkios

MONSTRANCE

 

 

 

(of memory)

 

 

 

 

 

M. Latin

 

 

 

Greek

monstrantia

 

 

 

anamimneskein

 

 

 

 

(to call to mind

Latin

 

 

 

again)

re-monstrare

 

 

 

 

(to show;

 

 

 

Greek

point out)

 

 

 

mnemon

 

*     *     *

 

 

(mindful)

Latin

MENTAL

 

 

 

monstrare

 

 

 

Greek

(to show,

mentality

 

 

mimneskein

point out)

mentation

 

 

(to call to mind;)

 

 

 

 

remember)

Latin

DEMENTIA

 

 

 

monstrum

demented

 

 

Greek

(divine portent;

dement

 

 

mnasthai

prodigy;

 

 

 

(to remember)

marvel)

Latin

 

 

 

 

demens,

 

 

mna-

Latin

dementis

 

 

 

monere,

(out of one's

 

 

*     *     *

monitus

mind)

 

 

AUTOMATIC

(to make,

 

 

 

automaton

think, remind,

Latin

 

 

automation

admonish)

mens,

 

 

 

 

mentis

 

 

MAENAD

mon-eyo-

(mind)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Greek

mon

mn-ti-

 

 

automatos

 

 

 

 

(self-willing;

*     *     *

mn-

 

 

acting by

MANIAC

 

 

 

itself)

maniac

*     *     *

 

 

 

 -mania

MONSTER

 

 

Greek

 

 

 

 

autos

MINION

DEMONSTRATE

 

 

(self) +

 

 

 

 

 -matos

French

demonstration

 

 

 

mignon

demonstrable

 

 

Latin

(darling)

demonstrate

 

 

maenas

 

 

 

 

 

Old High

Latin

 

¥

Greek

German

de-monstrare

 

AMNESTY

 -matos

minna

(to show,

 

 

(willing)

(love (as a

explain)

 

AMNESIA

 

form of memory)

 

 

 

Greek

 

Latin

 

Greek

mainas

German

monstrare

 

amnestia

(she who is

minthja

(to show,

 

(amnesty)

mad)

 

point out)

 

 

 

Greek

 

 

Greek

Greek

mania

Latin

 

amnestos

mainesthai

(madness,

monstrum

 

(forgotten;

(to be mad)

frenzy)

(divine portent;

 

no longer

 

 

prodigy;

 

remembered)

mn-to-

men-ti

marvel)

*     *     *

 

 

 

 

MIND

Greek

mn-yo-

men-

Latin

 

amnesia

 

 

monere,

REMIND

(not

mn-

*     *     *

monitus

reminder

remembering)

 

MUSE

(to make,

 

 

*     *     *

 

think, remind,

Middle English

Greek

MOSAIC

MATHEMATICS

admonish)

minde

a-

 

 

 

 

(not) +

MUSEUM

Latin

mon-eyo-

Old English

mnasthai

 

musa

 

gemynde

 

Med. Latin

 

mon

 

Greek

mosaicus

Greek

 

German

mnemosyne

musaicus

mathematika

*     *     *

gar-mundi-

(memory)

 

 

MEMENTO

 

 

Late Greek

Greek

 

mn-ti-

Greek

mouselion

mathema

German

 

mnasthai

(a mosaic)

(something

MINNESINGER

mn-

(to remember)

 

learned; science)

 

 

 

Latin

 

Old High

*     *     *

mna-

museum

Greek

German

MONEY

 

(library,

Mousa

minna

 

*     *     *

study)

(the Muse)

(love (as a

MINT

MEMORY

 

 

form of memory)

 

 

Greek

 

 

monetary

memorize

mouselon

Greek

German

 

memorable

(place of the

manthanein

minthja

Middle English

memorial

Muses)

(to learn)

 

mynt

immemorial

 

 

Latin

 

 

Greek

monthi-

meminisse

Middle English

Ahriman

mouseios

 

(imperative)

moneye

(Zoroastrian

(of the

mendh-

memento

 

god of evil)

Muses)

 

(to remember)

Old French

 

 

men-

 

moneie

Old French

Greek

 

men-ti

 

memorie,

Mousa

*     *     *

 

Old English

memoire

(the Muse)

MANTRA

men-

mynet

 

 

 

 

 

Avestan

monthi-

MANDARIN

*     *     *

German

anra

 

 

MENTOR

munita

(evil) +

mendh-

Portuguese

 

 

mainyu

 

mandarin

MATHESIS

Latin

 

men-

 

 

moneta

Latin

 

Malay

Greek

(money;

memoria

*     *     *

menteri

mathesis

mint)

(memory,

MANTIC

 

(learning)

 

history,

 

Hindi

 

Latin

tradition)

mantis

mantri

Greek

Moneta

 

 - mantic

 

mentor

("The Warner:

Avestan

 -mancy

Sanscrit

(counselor;

epithet of Juno

mainyu

 

mantrin

wise man)

whose temple

(spirit)

Greek

(counselor)

 

housed the

 

mantikos

 

Greek

Roman Mint)

Latin

(prophetic)

Sanscrit

mathema

 

memor

 

mantra

(something

Latin

(mindful)

Greek

(prayer, hymn,

learned; science)

monere,

 

mantis

counsel)

 

monitus

memus

(seer,

 

Greek

(to make,

 

prophet)

men-

manthanein

think, remind,

me-mn-us

 

 

(to learn)

admonish)

 

Latin

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

 

 

mn-yo-

MINERVA

 

mendh-

mon-eyo-

 

 

men-

 

 

mn-

men-

proto Indo-

men-

mon

 

 

European

 

 

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

(to think;

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

 

 

have the mind

 

 

 

men-

roused)

men-

man-

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

 

 

mon

*    *   *   *

Latin

German

 

 

 

meminisse

main-

 

mon-eyo-

mon

(imperative)

 

 

 

 

memento

Old English

 

mendh-

mon-eyo-

(to remember)

maenan

 

 

 

 

(to tell,

 

monthi-

Latin

Latin

signify,

 

 

monere,

comminisci,

complain)

 

Latin

monitus

commentus

 

 

monere,

(to make,

(to think out,

Old English

 

monitus

think, remind,

devise,

man

 

(to make,

admonish)

contrive)

(complaint)

 

think, remind,

 

 

 

 

admonish)

Latin

Latin

Old English

 

 

monitor

reminisci

bemaenan

 

Greek

(one who warns)

(call to mind,

 

 

Mousa

 

recollect)

Middle English

 

(the Muse)

Latin

 

mone

 

 

monitio

Latin

 

 

Greek

(warning)

reminiscens

Middle English

 

mousikos

 

(present participle

bimenen

 

(of the

MONITION

of reminisci)

 

 

muses)

 

 

MOAN

 

 

MONITOR

Latin

 

 

Greek

*     *     *

commentum

BEMOAN

 

mouosike

 

(invention,

*     *     *

 

techne

me-mn-us

contrivance,

 

 

(art of the

 

interpretation)

 

 

Muses)

memus

 

 

 

 

 

comment

 

 

Latin

Latin

commentator

 

 

monumentum

memor

 

 

 

(memorial)

(mindful)

reminisce

 

 

 

 

reminiscence

 

 

Latin

Latin

 

 

 

musica

memorare,

COMMENTARY

 

 

(music,

memorandus

 

 

 

poetry,

(to bring to

REMINISCENCE

 

 

learned study)

mind)

*     *     *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

monumental

Latin

mon

 

 

 

commemorare

 

 

 

musician

(to call to

mon-eyo-

 

 

musical

mind, recall,

 

 

 

MUSIC

relate)

Latin

 

 

 

 

monere,

 

 

MONUMENT

L.Latin

monitus

 

 

*     *     *

rememorare

(to make,

 

 

 

(call to mind

think, remind,

 

 

me-mn-us

again; remember)

admonish)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

memus

Old French

Latin

 

 

 

remembrer

prae-monere

 

 

Latin

 

(to warn,

 

 

memor

remembrance

foretell)

 

 

(mindful)

 

 

 

 

 

commenorate

Latin

 

 

Latin

COMMEMORATION

ad-monere

 

 

memorare,

 

(to remind of a

 

 

memorandus

REMEMBER

fact or duty)

 

 

(to bring to

*     *     *

 

 

 

mind)

 

premonitory

 

 

 

 

premonition

 

 

Latin

 

 

 

 

memoria

 

admonish

 

 

(memory,

 

ADMONITION

 

 

history,

 

*     *     *

 

 

tradition)

 

 

 

 

 

 

man-

 

 

Latin

 

 

 

 

memorandum

 

German

 

 

(a remembering)

 

manna-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old French

 

German

 

 

memorie,

 

main-

 

 

memoire

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old English

 

 

memo

 

maenan

 

 

MEMORANDUM

 

(to tell,

 

 

 

 

signify,

 

 

MEMOIR

 

complain)

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old English

 

 

 

 

mann

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Middle English

 

 

 

 

menen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mean

 

 

 

 

MEANING

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MAN

 

 

 

 

¥

 

 

 

MONOMANIAC.  Dusty knee.  DENSITY OF MAN INHORRANT IN THE ROOD SOBSTENCE.  Syllabella and her magic shew.  Don't forget that the plumb kin turned her into a nude.  ARTICULATED TRAIL OR TWO.  Real madness stems from not being abble to escape back to the body trunk.  HERE'S TO TRUISMS!  BOTTOMS UP AND ALL!  BACK IN DEW DUN TRUNK!  Two turns.  Men: mantra mantic mandarin mentor maniac minion mathesis mathematics memento reminiscence muse museum commentary remember mosaic music commemoration memorandum monument monition memoir memory monitor admonition automatic mentionable premonition money amentia dementia mint monster mental remind demonstrate remonstrance mind moan monstrance anamnesis bemoan mean mnemonic amnesty meaning man amnesia.  DUAL DISM.  MEANING MIND: LEARNING DIMENTIA.  Real modness steams from the dindun dability two knocked gott buck dan the treed bag dindo the drunk and clothes the larder.  CHITTLINS AND CHICKPEAS.  RICE AND ASPARAGUS FIGHT ELDS HOMERS.  The dumb ox is endier than the skald.  ORE THE SCOLD.  Deese books are mate for wogging, and dats just watt de'll do; one a dese dates des books are gonna wog all over you.  HARFSHE'LLY.  Oft Scyld Scefing sceaßena ßreatum.  FLATREUM?  Run run you Germanic thingamagug.  STIGMATA.  Stag what, ARKATREON?  Forau forms a fortress on day inside, Behooved. CAT TOSS, CAT TOSS, CAT TOSS.  Oystergods gagging fishygods.   Saltwater gods again against saltwater gods; meatfish versus shellfish.  MOLTING WHAT?  Austergods gegan visgods.  Eargods against Eyegods.  AND WHAT ABOUT THIS 'MENTIONABLE' THEY SPEAK OF?  WHERE ARE THE 'UNMENTIONABLES'?  Pinkonpink.  TATTLETAILTETTLERTELLER.  Better head back in to the slideshow, Sylvester.  YOU CAN SEE THE PRETTY RUNEBOWED GIRLS IN THEIR FIRST FORMS, ATOMIC CONGESTIVES.  Nay good as the day was lorn.  SWARTHEARN HEL.  Snakesnake.  SOURDSIDE HELL.  Orefreakall.  DUNDONDERE.  Melbourned Hellburrned.  KORESCH, KORESCH, KORESCH.  Payroot, payroot, how do you doit?  ASSPAIROFGUTS, YOU SAY IT?  Rolloff Nadir: the man who libs at the bought tomb.  HE HIMHAGMODATES THE BOD DOM.  HAG GATING THE BODY, THE CORPPOORRAIDING.  HOBGOBLIN THAT HE IDS, HOGEIGHTER.  Doughnut hag ate it: empire is sexual conquest.  STIPPLED AS THAT.  Crowdsing of seeds.  PUDDING ON A NEW SUIT TO GO A COURTING THE RAINBOAT CURDLES OF THE WORLD, LIKE NOLA'S SONS ADVER HIM.  Adver segs, that's all it is.  Stigging day old advoir dupois in dew moulincholy plate sews and gibbing them a jet of oleg tread city to hope wag them up to gain.  L M N TRY LOG CUE PATIENCE.  The Jung enterring the Freed to stir up gen-gen-generation.  COLLEGIATE COLLISION.  Panties down around the ankles.  MANAPHORICLLY SPANKING.  Braising up chickendren.  By name.  ANNE DENKEN.  Murmury.  MOAN SEEKING.  You won't find her hier, sagging in this damnp brocks of arm err I can wood.  Only ands and buts and nots live here, in then ridged soil  where your boners lay amid wax embraiding you moanly, magicstair schnarchen, width the maggies all M broiled down hier under the starts old loans.  OLD LOAN WIDTH YOUR BROAD THOR, OF CURSE.  The broad Thor in the brine, who is huge and equally not huge.  ALTAR EAGLE.  Ilks.  IF YOU'D WASH TO SIEK MOANS IN LOTTERY GIRLS EGG IN, YEW SHED TORN IN THE LIDE IN THEMB RAIN AND MADGE THE LHIDE INSITE AND THE LWIDE DOUBTSIDE AND LED THEM INNERWEAVING ODDERWEAVING LIKE BOYS AND GIRLS THEIR LAKES WARPED TO GET HER.  Miner light and made her llight.  A goon, Doctor Augenlider.  GODDING YEAR ROCKS OFF INK SITE HERE.  Planking the sood in the doctor's darter.  MEG HAIR'S CREAM AND AND MUGGING HER MOUND.  Bug not heard.  Knock here wear the foot's nut ashured and the loon is munck covered.  YOU NEED A LOON CLOD, NUT LENSE, SEIGNEUR SEIGNEUR.  X plo gen in the digstance.  IS THOUT ASS ONIC EYE HERD?  Muzzled off.  WAD ARE THUS OW NET WAIFS ENDING?  Joy's uncupboarding a coffered ink.  BLINK ATE?  Falselight fridge.  OFF YULE NUT RODDY FOR THE ODDISDE LITE, SYMBOLLY POLE UP THE BLINK ATE OFF DOOR YOUR ID; AND TORN HUMP THE INKSIDE LITE, AND LET THE SLIDE COLLAR RUN IMP AGES ACROSS EUR AGAIN LEADER, YOUR MALE CLOVER TOUR.  Sleight.  RUDOLPH, DONNER, BLITZEN.   I FOG GET DEAR OTTERS.  Slate of hun.  A TILL, A TOLL, AKILL KILL KILLY FROM THE EATS, JAUNE CLOD.  Gad a huntfool of them portious stones, dame gemini rugs, and ab roach the raverate gurl you seal when the dram loots gum up.  SLIDE, POLICE.  Watt?  SLIGHT POLISH.  (Polish sauce sages, width plankty of mouse turds, pleats.)  MOUSE TEAR, GROSSMANN?  ARE YOU WILT US?  Prod tune?  LET US CUNT IN YOU ID'F YEARN NUT SALAD TO CHURN US.  Waddle it all meat then?  Wait till he mint to slay?  MISTER CROSSMANN?  ARE YOU A WHIG?  What?  A WHIG?  ARE YOU WICK US OR A GOG IN'ST US?  Eyes don't understand.  WHIG UP IF YOU ONT.  WEIRD KNOT IN A TORY HOLE EVER, YOU CAN MARK UP YOUR MIND, IF YOU'D ROT HERE.  Clerestory, if you warrant it. 

¥

 

 

 

 

amnesia

 

 

 

 

amnesty

 

mantra

 

 

 

mania

mantic

mentor

 

anamnesis

minion

¥    ¥   ¥   ¥

mandarin

¥

mnemonic

 

 

 

man

 

memento

men-

mathesis

 

remonstrance

reminiscence

proto Indo-

mathematics

bemoan

monstrance

 

European

 

meaning

 

commentary

(to think;

muse

 

monster

remember

have the mind

museum

mind

demonstrate

 

roused)

 

moan

 

commemoration

* * * * * * * * *

mosaic

 

money

memorandum

*    *   *   *

museum

mental

mint

 

 

*    *    *

remind

 

memoir

music

 

 

admonition

memory

monument

amentia

 

premonition

*    *    *

*    *    *

dementia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

monition

automatic

 

 

 

monitor

mentionable

 

 

 

 

WATT IS THIS, NOGGIN?  Men mantra music automaton, My Gene, mandarin muse museum memory monitor mathematics mosaic museum money mint mental meaning mania dementia monster amnesia.  LOTS AND FROWNED.  Ride wing and looft wing.  AND CATCHING CATCHING FLAME.  AND CATCHING CAT SING FRAME.  Mister Crossmann.  YES.  WHERE WERE WE?  Wallet?  WHERE WERE WE?  We were talking about great members of the Perovskite family.  (IS HE TALKING ABOUT RUSSIAN PORNO ON THE INTERNET?  BORIS BIGGERSTUFFER AND NATASHA  NICKERNOCKER NEEDHOLDALL?)  Yes.  (HE HAS QUITE A WRECKED CORD, HEWN TOE.  WITH THE PORTNOY, AND ALL.  HE'S BEEING INVESTOR GATED BY THE EBBS BEAT EYE.  I HERD THEY ALL TAKE HIM TO TRY ALL, AS SOON AS HE WHIGS UP AGAIN.)  We move on now to magnets and GMR materials.  Does anyone have any questions so far?  MISTER CAVER.  HOW MUCH OF THIS WILL BE ON THE TEST?  Relax, Mi.  You will do fine.  You've received 100% on every test and on every project.  You will do fine.  I'm a bit worried about your ex-partner there, sitting next to you.  Because he's been dozing off pretty regularly durin gthis lecture.  He made us sit through the interminable lecture on the nature of the anti-universe; but ask him to stay awake for one of my lectures, and we get in to a whole analysis of the human language.  Is my lecture really that boring?  What the man needs is a little love, Miss Wing.  You are sitting closest to him.  And he seems to like you.  And you have a dress on.  And the light is low so we can see the slides.  Make the man remember how good it is to be alive.  He'll think less of this Tree of Knowledge than of the Treen of Life if you make him remember how good to fruit of the Tree of Life tastes.  We're counting on you.  Slide, please.

 

                                                           

 

An electric current generates a magnetic field, and unpaired electrons spinning on atoms act as small electro-magnets pointing in particular directions ie they have a "north" and a "south" pole. When they point in the same direction on all the atoms, the material itself acts like a magnet; it is called a ferromagnet, since the simplest example is BCC iron. Of course a lump of iron is not normally a magnet, but has to be 'magnetised' by some other magnet. This is because the raw material consists of many magnetic crystallites whose magnetic moments cancel each other until they are aligned.  If the magnetic moments or 'spins' on the atoms are in opposite directions on the atomic scale, they also cancel, and the material is called an anti-ferromagnet. Manganese flouride (MnF2) is a simple example. The moments on the Mn atoms at the corners of the cube point in one direction, and at the centre of the cube they point in the opposite direction. Since there re equal numbers of each (when many of these unit cells are stacked together), they cancel exactly.  Slide, please.

 

                                                           

 

MOVE CLOSER, MICHAEL.  Who will take notes for you?  HE'S ALREADY GUARANTEED ME AN A, I THINK.  IT'S NICE AND DARK IN HERE.  I'M A VIRGIN; BUT I'LL LET YOU KISS ME.  AND YOU CAN PUT YOUR HAND UNDER MY SKIRT IF YOU WANT.  What?  DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME?  I LIKE YOU.  WHY SHOULDN'T WE?  NO ONE WILL SEE US.  KISS ME, THEN.  See how my arrow points up and your arrow points down.  I CAN'T SEE YOUR ARRROW, AT ALL.  IT'S DO DARK IN HERE TO SEE ANYTHING.  (Tulips come together and graze one another in the stirring spring breeze.)  UMM.  NICE.  YOU CAN GIVE ME THE TONGUE IF YOU WANT TO.  What?  I'M OLD ENOUGH TO TAKE A TONGUE.  F-F-F-French style?  DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE YOUNG?  FALLING IN LOVE WITH EVERY GIRL YOU SEE?   Vaguely.  TOUCH MY KNEE.  What?  GOO AHEAD -- NO ONE'S LOOKING.  A hand on a warm knee, the soft inside flesh of a young girl's thigh.  NICE!  The most famous anti-ferromagnetic, manganese oxide (MnO) helped earn the Nobel prize for C. Shull, who showed how such magnetic structures could be obtained by neutron diffraction (but not with the more common X-ray diffraction). This material also has the simple BCC rock salt structure, but here the basic unit is doubled in all three directions; the Mn moments in one plane point in one direction, and in the opposite direction in the adjacent plane.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

SLIDE IT IN.  What?  YOUR HAND.  DO YOU LIKE WHAT YOU FEEL?  Yes.  WHAT DO YOU FEEL. Clean panties.  YES.  I CHANGE THEM EVERY DAY.  What color are they?  PINK.  Umm, nice.  OH, YES.  CLEAN PANTIES ARE NEXT TO GODLINESS.  And your thigh is very nice, so warm and voluptuous.  I LIKE IT WHEN YOU TOUCH ME THERE.  NICE AND SOFT.  OH, YES.  It feels so creamy.  YOUR HANDS ARE A BIT ROUGH.  I LIKE THAT.  I'm not hurting you?  NO.  NO, I LIKE IT.  Magnetite or 'loadstone' has been known as a magnet from antiquity. It is one of the common oxides of iron (Fe3O4) and is also cubic, with iron in two  valence states. The formula might be simplistically written FeO.Fe2O3 with Fe++ as FeO and Fe+++ as Fe2O3. The Fe+++ occupy the tetrahedral holes, and half the octahedral holes, with the Fe++ occupying the other half.  (The charge-ordering of Fe++ and Fe+++ at low temperature (110K) produces the famous Verwey transition). The magnetic moments on the octahedral sites are antiferro-magnetic and cancel (I have no slide of this, I'm sorry), while on the tetrahedral sites they are ferro-magnetically aligned. Such a mixture of anti- and ferro-magnets is called a ferr-i-magnet.   Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

SLIDE IT IN.  What?  SLIDE YOUR FINGER IN.  Oh, yes.  OH!  It's so wet!  UMM.  You're so tight.  You're not a virgin, not really.  NO.  NOT REALLY.  BUT I'M SEXUALLY INEXPERIENCED.  Why is this so?  I DON'T KNOW.  I'M SHY.  Really?  You don't seem so shy to me.  I have my finger in your.  SHH.  I NEED TO TAKE NOTES.  I DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND MAGNETS SO WELL.  Your pussy is a giant magnet.  DON'T BE CRUDE NOW!  No, I meant that as a compliment.  MY PRIVATE PART IS NOT A GIANT ANYTHING.  IT IS A TINY CHERRY BLOSSOM.  Yes, it is.  OH, THAT FEELS GOOD.  WE CAN'T HAVE SEX HERE.  BUT WE CAN DO THIS.  SHH.  I NEED TO HEAR THIS.  Many magnetic structures are much more complex. Neutron diffraction, and especially the Rietveld method for powder diffraction, has been used to solve these more complex magnetic structures, such as that of MnTa4S8. Single crystal techniques using polarized neutrons and strong magnetic fields are needed however, to understand the most complex magnetic structures.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

Mister Crossmann?  Are you awake back there?  Are you enjoying yourself?  You see, there are better things for you to be doing than plotting the destruction of the world.  WHAT?  Pleasure is not such a sin, is it now?  We are talking about human magnetism.  The same phenomena that occur at these micro levels also are occurring back there between you and your friend, Miss Wing, in your little chairs.  YES, MR. SHAVER.  Enjoy yourself, me boy.  That is what life is for, Mister Sentryman.  Your ears listen for the sounds of the invaders coming ashore.  Bod there is nothing to fear here, Mister Mole, but fear itself.  Focus on your task at hand.  Make the girl feel good, and there might be more pleasure ahead for you.  OH, YES, I LIKE THAT.  TOUCH ME THERE.  Age too old.  WHAT?  Moin stir.  PART ONE?  My labyrinth is open.  LISTENING TO THE SOUNDS OF LIQUID.  Brackish or frish frish?  WOOD?  Saline or praline?  WOODEN TIT?  Salted or sugared.  TASTE IT FOR YOURS ELF.  LEAK YOUR FINGER.  Umm.  Tastes like cotton candy.  IF ID TASTES WEED, THEN YOU MOUGHTN'T BE WORKING UP.  BUT IIF ID TOASTS WOODY, THE LIDE MIGHTN'T BE GROOMING BACH FOR THEE.  Bach reddener.  QUICK PUT YOUR FINGER BACK IN.  (Put a plug in the dike.)  OH, YES.  TOUCH ME RIGHT HERE.  LET ME SHOW YOU.  The discovery of new types of magnets has had great industrial importance - try counting how many small electric motors are used in a modern automobile - most made from synthetic magnets. Or consider the importance of magnets in communications and other electronic equipment. The so-called hard magnets, whose structure was again found using neutron diffraction, are examples of these important new materials. This material (Nd2Fe14B) consists of layers of iron (orange) with interleaved neodinium (purple) and boron (blue): neutrons show that hydrogen (white) can also be  accommodated.  Next slide please.

 

                                               

 

HYDRO.  GEN GEN.  HYDRO GEN GENDER RATION.  Whisper in my ear that you love me.  I LOVE YOU.  Yes.  Why did you never notice me before?  WHEN?  Ever before?  I NEVER SAW YOU BEFORE.  When we went to school together?  I NEVER REALLY SAW YOU BEFORE.  Because I'm Asian?  I DON'T KNOW.  MAYBE.  Right there!  Don't stop!  Don't take it away from there!  That's my spot!  OH, THAT'S NICE!  Some of the most exciting recent results are being obtained with Giant Magneto-Resistive (GMR) oxides such as (La,Ca)MnO3. Already such materials are being used by IBM to make computer hard drives of much higher capacity. This GMR material has a familiar perovskite-type structure, which is subtly distorted with temperature. The complex magnetic structure is not shown, but this, together with the structural distortions, are important for understanding the unique properties of these materials. The details of the valence and spin ordering in this material is our institute's most cited current work.  Slide, please. 

 

                       

THAT LOOKS LIKE THE KABBALISTIC TREE OF LIFE!  What?  THAT STRUCTURE IS SO AMAZING!  Thank you!  But don't forget what you're doing, Michael!  It feels so good!  Don't stop!  THIS STRUCTURE IS SPECTACULAR!  Wait until you see the next one!  WHAT?  Just concentrate on what you're doing!  YES, THAT'S NICE.  I'm almost there!  I'm getting the feeling.  I'M GETTING THE FEELING IN MY FINGER TOO.  MY FINGER'S STARTING TO CONVULSE. More unusual structures can be formed when the magnetic moments are aligned at different angles to each other; for example Er6Mn23 has a particularly interesting magnetic structure with moments on both types of atom. Even more complex structures are produced when the moments form a spiral structure extending over many unit cells. Such difficult structures can only be obtained with neutron diffraction from single crystals; they help us understand better the subtle balance of forces in these materials.  Slide, please.  OH, YES, SLIDE IT IN, SLIDE IT IN DEEPER!  I'M GETTING IT!  It's so wet!  OH, YES!  (Her legs begin to buck.)  OH, YES!  DON'T STOP!  U, U, U.  A, A, A.   I, I, I.  E, E, E.  O, O, O, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  YES, YES.

 

                       

 

Here, honored friends and neighbors, we have a photographic imprint, obtained from x-ray. of a young Asian-American woman's brain pattern at the moment of orgasm.  (THE AUDIENCE BEGINS TO CHEER.  THE LIGHTS GO UP.  THE AUDIENCE IS STANDING AND APPLAUDING, LOOKING BACK TOWARD CROSSMANN AND MI WING, THE SCHOOL'S TOP STUDENT.)  I'm certain, Mister Crossmann, that you will find our next installment equally tantalizing -- when we focus on the nature of layered structures, clays and other LUBRICANTS!  (THE AUDIENCE BEGINS TO SNICKER, NODDING AT CROSSMANN WITH A MIX OF ENVY AND RESPECT.)  (Ahh, what a jewel.  What an ideal gem.)   (SHE WHISPERS AS THE LIGHTS GO OUT, SINGNG SOFTLY:  Filling up tiny love spaces; Getting lost inside of insatiable mazes; Looking for heroes in worn-out faces; Looking for a great big love in tiny places.)  EYE'M ALLA EARS, ALLA EARS, ALLA EARS.  Shh.  Everybody's lurking.  ARE YOU FEELING BETTER, MISS WING?  Better than wet?  (BETTER THAN ALAN WATTS?  WAS THAT THE QUESTION?)  Better than you were before?  You seemed to really enjoy yourself back there.  I know you have a thing for MnO3.  LEARNING IS ALWAYS ENJOYABLE, MISTER SHAFFER.  Can I interest you in a few polaroids after class -- all very artistic, you know -- my office is actually a very comfortable place.  I have cashews there I can share with you.  (IS THIS MAN WARRING A MASK?)  No, Mister Harbison -- I think you're confusing me with Candy Perish or perhaps Pa-Pa-Pattisserie Fitzhugh.  (I'D REALLY LIKE TO EAT SOMETHING NOW.)  (Fish or chicken, Mister Duckadippin?)  YOU GODDA REST PECK YOURSELF, MOISTER SHOVELER.  RED SPECK YOUR OWN ELF, WHEN YOU ARDOR ALONE.  (Someone is blousing.  I can hear her turning crime soon.)  BACK REDDENER, FRIAR SELFTUCKER.  WID A WHIP WID A WHIP WID A WHIP WHIP POOR WILL.  Freer Sophie Tucker -- wid a wit eye'd wipe your widener, Madame Popcorn Pop?  ID'S SO DARK IN HERE.  IT'S HARD TO HEAR ANYTHING.  Sit closer to your girlfriend, Zlatko Sudac.  We'll be even cursier in the drake when we begin to ox animan lurid brick ants up clothes.   HA! HA! HA!  (The audience is roasting.)  TAKE A FEW WARDS OF WIST DUMB, SLACK TOE.  OH, WIPE THAT BLOOD ON YOUR LEGS.  IT DON'T MADDER.  IT'LL STOP SOMME DATE.  GIRLS LIKE BLOOD.  IT X HEIGHTS THEM WHEN THEY SMALE IT.  YOUR SALAD ACT WILL EMP SOME DAY.  AND YOU'LL HAVE A NUTS GIRL AND A HOMILY AND A NIGHTS HOSE AND THE SUM WILL BE SUMMING AGAIN.  Hoarfrost.  YES, WELL THAT IS HOWL IT SEEMS NEWT.  THE MOON TITS BLUE.  WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?  (Blu-ue moon.  I saw you standing alone.  Without a dream in my heart.  Without a love of my own.)  TROUBLED DOOR.  DON'T FOLLOW THAT TUBA DEAR.  IF YULE DUDE YOU'LL NAVAL GUT OUT OF EAR.  (Listen very carefully!  Someone may be coming to your door!  Someone may be breaking in to your house to kill you,to rob you, and to rape your wife and your daughter!)  EYE NO.  Wet, Tony?  IS THAT YOU, PRAYED JUST JEWEL?   I try to rescale what it was you're ghost said to me then.  But this train keeps on rocking me back to sleep.  And I fear come to borrow I won't even member your norm.  (IT'S SO DARK IN HERE.  LET ME TOUCH YOUR MOON ROCKS.)  O k.  ZZZSSSS - IIIIIII - PPPPPP.  (A warm hand in a pocket.)  OH, I FEEL CRAZY.  Reach a little lower and you'll feel nuts.  (A SIMPLE CYMBAL CRASHES TWIDES.)  (Laveter from the audi lense.)  GREAT SHOW, MISTER MUSTACHE MARK.  IT'S HARD NOT TO LIKE YOUR CIGAR, FIDELIO'S FLAMING NOCASTRATO.  And the dray horse coal.  WHOM?  Car full.  WHAT?  I think they are combing back.  THEY CAN CALM BUCK ALL THEY WANT.  I HAVE A FINE PENCIL HERE FOR IN MY HAND FOR TAKING NOTES UP OUT THESE LUBRICANTS.  Am I larcening to the radio?  WHEN?  Ray Deo.  STAID DICK.  Stay, sis.  Stay.  STASIS BRACE US; CHANGE DERANGE.  The auditor is hep for an audi tour.  DID YOU HEAR?  I herz.  TASTING, ONE, TWO, THREE.  TASTING.  Orb and town.  TASTING.  Hoop and tune.  EH, CRYSTAL HOLDER.  EYE WILL MAKE YOU JUMP CROSSMANN.  Ray Deo Waves.  KUSH, KUSH, KADOSH.  (DURING THE DAY, HE STATES PHILOSOPHICALLY, THE RECEPTION IS ONLY FOR THE LOCAL STATION.  WHILE DURING THE NIGHT, RECEPTION IS FOR THE VERY DISTANT, THE VERY EXOTIC.  Ox otic.  URB AND TORN.  URB AND TORN.  Don't cut away!  WET IF STONEWUMPS SEAT US.  Hay won't.  Id's dark.  URB AND TONE.  Stroke stroke.  URB AND TOWN.  Stroke stroke.  (NERVOUSLY: MARX COULD HAVE AS EASILY MADE A CASE THAT ALL HISTORY IS A DIALOGUE OR WAR BETWEEN THE COUNTRYSIDE AND THE CITY.  THE CITY REPRESENTING THE DAY, THE DIAMETER-TIME, AND THE COUNTRYSIDE REPRESENTING, WELL, THE CUNT TREE TIDE, OR NIGHT.)  Doughnut stoop.  SHH.  No won can see.  SHH.  QUIET TALL ON THE WHISHT TIT FRONT.  Urbit, Yoni.  Yoni, Drrbit.  SHH.  Oops, Dumps.  Oops, Dumps.  FLETCHER STRETCHER.  FLETCHER STRETCHER.  Pit a clod overt your lamp, Black.  I drink thair coming bag.  NUT YED, RED.  Wets and eats.  GULP AND GROUND.  GULP AND GRIND, MILKY WAY.  Heads up!  THEY"RE ROTE YEARNING.  Wrote Learning.  RED TURNING.  Foam thicks purse prick dove, the mad spook cain bed rug guarded ass once erotically eggs nun dead sonic tonic zound of fats.  All sourds of songs and howls unconch leslie sentsed by the presents of a cropse.  Bulleared inn a night's symboltery.  WET.  They're gumming.  NOD YET, DEER.  Hold your Tung, Mister Bitch Ump.  HO HO HO HOWLER IN THE WOOD NOT.  Howler, in the went.  GRITS BERG.  AYES, LET US LIST TEN REASONS FOR CONTINUING.  Would smell; gargoyle gott; bargoyles mile; nude zoot of clods; eifel ray for unter hing; chilled urn a bout tooth blot some; esperades ant the coal den dull pales; gore videlio; hand mowed chain ob and dank; soren rise, the leaf of fate.  WELL ZED.  They're back.  REDDENED.  FADE DIN.  Yes, we should start again.  We don't want to break up anything for our louvers in the peanut gallery.  But I think all your parents would be displeased if we didn't make an effort to earn at least a portion of the major tuition they are paying for you today.  Our final segment now will focus on clays and lubricants.  We have concentrated so far on the structures of relatively simple materials that are of interest for physical applications.  Now let's look at some structures that start off being simple, but end up being complicated ! The first of these are the layered structures, important examples of which we already saw with the oxide superconductors. There are many more, ranging from the moly-disulphide lubricant in your car's engine oil, to the treacherous clay montmorillonite!  (WEARY LAUGHTER FROM THE AUDIENCE.)  I will try to be more entertaining.  We have seen that the common structure of carbon, graphite is a layer structure, with only very weak forces between the layers; because these layers can easily slip over each other, graphite is an important lubricant. We will now see that there are many similar structures, and in each case their properties are largely determined by this layer structure.  Let's look at the slide of graphite again, please.

 

                                               

 

Apparently it should be quite easy to interleave other atoms between the layers of graphite, and in practice this is true. Ammonium, small hydrocarbon molecules and other materials can be 'intercalated' into graphite, with some interesting properties. For example, if we intercalate cations such as potassium or lithium we can obtain materials such as KC8. Some of these materials have potential for new batteries and fuel cells.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

WHAT'S GOING ON UP THERE?  Please don't cut away!  Little drome beat!  URIMM, THUMMIM,  URIMM, THUMMIM.  Yes, two stone, one balked and one whisht.  B-A-LACK ROCK, BE YE DROPED INTO THE SEEMY SEA FORM A GRADE HEIGHT!  Slip, slide.  Slip, slide.  ERR ON THE PLUMS OF YER HEN, DEAR CHILE.  Lady and Lord Byron, having a spin at the old prayer wheel, one hand at a time.  NICK, KNOCK.  TICE, TOCK.  Run the table, dear.  CHROMIUM VON STOHEIM.  CHROMIUM STROM VOHEIM.  Tickle, tuckle.  Tuck, tiggle.  RECITE AFTER ME.  MICHAEL J. CROSSMANN, CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD, AIR CAVALRY, SERIAL NUMBER 111VEGA111.  Harmony.  MILKING MAKE, WATERING WAKE.  Michael JJ Crossmann.  JULIAN JANUS.  Calendar salamander.  UP AND DOWN.  BUTT TO CROWN.  Vus iss going awn dup dere, Herr Cruiseman?  DON'T CHANGE THAT SLIDE.  Slide it up and slide it down, lubricate the whole damn town.  JEWEL.  Homily jewel.  Z.  Twin tourers.  RUINED LITTER FELLERS.  Brinking you down below the infra red spectres.  WEAR OTTO'S LIVE?  Prim injury from Birthsmark.  DAME UTAH COLD AXE.  Coat, Tex?  Is that a mad siek word?  BLUED IS NOT ONLY A COLOR; IT IS ALSO A TENOR OF MOOND.  Pried shitesly.  DOUGHNUT STEP.  Malcolm McDowell.  PUD DULL POUNDER.  Make a rib outta me, quick.  OLD YOUR BREATH BUTT DON'T SCREAM.  Are you with us, Mister Crossmann.  YES, MISTER CHAUCER.  I'M TRYING TO MUDDLE THROUGH, AT ANGLES LEAST DIMINISHED NOW.  Fine.   Have you any questions about the material?  NUT AT THE MOO MEANT.  Don't have a stroke!  TIE ME KANGEROO DOWN, SPURT.  TILE ME CAIN THE ROOD DOWN.  Rudder up, flaming.  RREDDER NOW, REDHEAD.  Let the girl rust, mister spin.  Her arm'll be made out of rubber in a mime met.  SHE'S GOT HER IDES CLOSED, JUDE CURSEMAN.  AND SHE'S GOD HER HOOKS INTER YEWD.  EUR RITING ON HER MARY GO RUIN, MISTER PROUD.  Geeb on turining.  DO YOU AVER GET THE SOUNDS THAT WE GO ROMED AND ROMED LIKE A WRECKED CORD, THAT WE ORSELVES ARE THE PORNOGRAPH NEEDLE THAT MAKES THE MOOD SICK GAME OUD?  Spate your celt appropriately then.  So many stubs bedouin the all panofyou.  UMP PHALOS -- THE WRECKED CORD USE PEAK OF.  Did someone leave the ray deo on?  SYMBOL QUITSON, PHAINO.  STIRRUP LOGGING IN TO THE MIRROR FOR A MONUMENT AND YULE BE FINE.  YULE BE VINE.  HERE, HAB A DRUNK.  The Ayes are incomplete, never behind one's reddened bach, sleeping for longue interred vales.  The Nears, on the odor hand, are ever-praysent, like a course of an eld warbonnet which.  MAG BREATH, MAG BREATH.  In out; Up down.  Yes.  SEE HOW THE MANK LOVES HIS DEKTERS.  IT DUBS A MAN GOD TO SEE SUCH BREADTH OF A LOUVERING FARTER.  He's a riesenable man, after all.  LOVING TOCHTER, LISTEN TO HER WIDSPURRED WORTHS.  Ard larder that he is.  DEBANUTLY IN HIS GROOVES WITH THAT YOUNGK THING.  Bowing down to here louvre like a real ledges man.  CAN YOU SMELL IT YT?  Four skin, three skin, two skins, then one.  HAIR WE GOAT RUNED THE MARY GO RUNT, MARY GO RUNT, MARY GO RUN, DARE WE GET RAND THE MARY GO RUNE, MY FOUR LEWDY.  A flag is flapping in the breeze.  SUE IS HER.  What?  DOUGHNUT STOP WHAT YOU ARE DUNE.  Sum one we'll here us.  SLIDE, PLEASE.  SLIDE, PLEASE.  SLIDE, PLEASE.  Kubrik can't.  Tell us more about how Kubrik can't, Gristle Mitt.  OH, DONUTS MAKE MY BROWN IDES BLUE.  O O say can you sea by the dawn's orly light that our flan-an was-as still herb.  SHH!  HE'S SPEAKING.  I'M TRYING TO GET AN A IN THIS CLASS.!  YOU MAY BE ABLE TO GET AN A WITHOUT STUDYING -- YOU'RE SO GOOD WITH YOUR HANDS -- BUT I NEED TO TAKE NOTES!  Another important lubricant, which is dded to engine oil for automobiles, is moly-disulphide (MoS2).  Molybdenite consists of molybdenum sandwiched between two layers of sulpher, these MoO6 layers are bound together by 6 strong Mo-S bonds, but they are only bound between themselves by weak S-S 'van de Waals' forces, and can easily slide over each other. Note that the sulpher atoms within the MoS6 layers are not close packed, another indication of the strong Mo-S forces.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

(WE'VE GOT A COUPLE 'VAN DE WAALS' FORCES IN ROW NUMBER SEVEN HERE, MISTER SCRAPER.  Now, now: let's laid nomeo and ruliette have their funnelforce love in the drab, friends.  Afterall, weird own lay once young faultferall.  You know, catch the furrest stone when you are not gilled deed.  HER AURAL EYENESS HAS A BIG STICK STUCK IN HER HAND THAT SHE'S TRYING TO PEEL THE BARK OFF OF.  SHE MUST BE DREAMKING, THE WAY SHE'S WEAVING WITH HER IDES CLOTHESDED.  LUGING LIKE SOME MULSINMAKER WITH HER PLAYERBEADS IN ONE ANT AND HER COAT BLANK COATING THE SEEN OF THE GRIME.)  They know what we're doing.  THEY'RE JUST LAYLESS.  Wad aboot my republutation?  EUR SAVING THE WORLD WITH YOUR FRENCH FLUTE FLAYING.  ROMEEMBER THAT.  DON'T STUB!  Spark spark, a fire to this clerk.  Dark dark, a fiber to worm the skin of a shark.  WHO THE HILLEL IS NOTCHING ON THAT DOOROMINE?  Debth always gloams nothing on the adorer in the debth of Nought.  THROW SOME BLOOD ON YOUR DOOR, MINISTER MOYLE, OYES IN THE DANK.  When he sinks deep enough he becomes oblivious of both individuality and gender.  ROODED OUT.  Big Pole; Little Pole.  BIG DIPPER; SMALLER DIPPER.  Gruel. LISZT TONE.  Filberting up Ptolemy lube spaces; Getting loosed insite of destabilized masses; Lurking for whorehoes in worn-out feces; Licking for a great big lug in tay tinniest of specieses.  SLURP, SLURP.  O, even bedder.  ME MEMBER: I DO IT FOR DART; AND FOR THE SALVE TASTING OF THE PLANNED EAT.  You moist be hungry by now, purr think.  THANK GOD THE LIE IS DOUBT.  In contrast, the sulpher atom layers are indeed close-packed in berndtite (SnS2), which is isomorphous with the simplest CdI structure. Here the Sn atoms occupy the octahedral holes within a bi-layer of close-packed S-atoms, with again only weak forces between the layers. In fact instead of the simple AB.AB... stacking of the large anions as shown here, more complex sequences are also possible such as ABC.ABC... or AB.AC... leading to many different polytype structures for CdI.  Could you show the next slide, please.

 

                                               

 

MISTER SHAFFER, I CAN BARELY HEAR YOU AT ALL BECAUSE OF THIS WATEARY SOUND OVER HER TO THE LEFT OF ME COMING OUT OF OLD I SEE ATTIC WIDE WATER GIRL HERE, MISS DRAYED HAY STUDENT WHO SEEMS TO LIKE TO PUT LONG HARD OBJECTIONS IN HER MOUTH FOR THE SAKE OF DICTION.  She's doing her duty in a hand sum way, Miss LaDick.  She's dutying this for the sole bastion of our sore city -- she is like lucy midinstirring to old Nose for Radio.  Remember, loosey saggerfaced herself so that the oval could be grilled by the fist darn of day; and lice could come bag in due day sitty.  The durkness has bench layed.  She is a heroin to all mede eaters.  Sore grave facing hercells this weight.  DAY US OMNIBUS.  Tooth and nail.  MONO LOATHE OF THE ROLL EDGES KIND OF PATRICK ORACLE PRAY HYSTERICAL DEIS OF YHORE.  My gal and hyst oligarch angels of pro tech Thor aides.  WE DENT KNEELED HYMN ANY MORTE.  Do you hear what I hear?  (EGO.)  Do you hear what I head?  A song.  (A SONG.)  Dame sing through the night, with a pale cheek, pink lips stretched so tight.  BEE CALM.  THE INJERKTION WILLED TURK AWAY EUR PAIN.  Two feet sedan.  I SLAM SAID DOOR ON CARNIVALITY.  SO SAMES MY GAL TO THE DURKER HALB UP HUMPSELF, MORAVI DIG.  God ditty'nt make the little Grenoble; and ditty don't shmo in Dindian hobble us in the suppertime.  PIERRE.  Mole Ville, drake your tete. Hear comes the thunder.  BARBER ARYANS.  BERBER ARYANS.  COALLLLLLLESCING IN BLOAT.  I'm odd.  WISE IS ID TUGGING YOU SO LONG?  GIVE ME SOME THUNDER, DUNDERHEAD.  He hades the food when he goes to bed; he hades the boddle too.  LOOSING WADE.  The hags a sign.  STROBE, STROBE.  Don't stub!  NASAL SENSE.  It is possible to construct materials similar to intercalated graphite from silicon as well as carbon. For example, BaSi2 can be regarded as buckled graphite-type layers of silicon intercalated with barium atoms. However, these buckled layers of silicon do not slip as readily as the smooth layers of carbon in graphite. In nature layered silicate structures are very important as clay minerals.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

LOOKS HEAR US FOR SMOOTH LAYERS OF CUP AND GROOVE IT.  She's a gamer.  A gamer with gams.  UNE JAMMER AVEC JAMBES.  Green apple scene trafficks rotundating the sight prejector.  MOODJUDGE WARTS COMBING ODD IN FRIENDS.  He isss a thebes, a plague you're its.  Evilyone knows it.  He has stolen our lag sures, our grave flicks; and now, loog at him up thayer now, performing aural cob tabulation width our own doters, so belle et so zexy.  EEL SES QUIVER NOTRE LANG.  She is not French -- she is Chinese-American.  ZIE IST UNE VIETNAMIENNE.  LES VIETNAMIENNE BELONG TO US.  SHE IS PORT OF OUR END PYRE.  She's not Vietnamese.  WEPT UNTIL THEY TARN DOPE THE LUMIERE.  HE VILLE SEA SHE IS NUT MI WING ADD ALL.  SHE IS ENTIRELY A NEW BEING, A VIENNE TOMB NEEDS.  THEY ARE STEALING ALL OF OUR WARMEN.  KICK HIM OUT OF HERE!  Voleur!  Voyeur!  SHH.  DON"T LET HIM KNOW WHAT WE ARE PLANNING.  How they persecuted the poor nation of Vietnam!  It is a crime!  My Lai!  The Christmas bombing.  Agent orange.  Sacre bleu!  Damned (bleeping) feud!  They are guilty of the gravest grimes, those Americans.  SHH.  WE SHALL BETRAY THEM.  WHEN WE THINK WE ARE FRIENDS, WE SHALL TURN OUR BACKS ON THEM -- AND GET OUR WOMEN BACK.  THEN, PERHAPS, OUR OWN CHILDREN WILL BE HAPPY TO WATCH FRENCH MOVIES AGAIN!  IT SHALL BE LIKE THE GOLDEN AGE AGAIN!  WHEN THE AMERICANS FALL!  One of the simplest layered silicates consists of sheets of Si2O5 corner connected silica tetrahedrae, as found in Li2Si2O5, where the green alki metal ions are intercalated between the blue silica layers. (For simplicity, the oxygen atoms at the corners of the silica tetrahedrae have not been drawn).  These Si2O5 structures are isomorphous with one form of P2O5.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

AHH!  We are the world's greedest amoureux.  Why is she French phillatelisting that American phillistine?  If it were'nt for the Americans, we would have our empire back.  And our tongue would be in every pretty girl in the world instead of alone in our own mouths, condemning foreign doction.  CALM YOURSELF, PIERRE.  IT WILL ALL BE OVER SOON.  AMERICA WILL FALL LIKE ROME FELL.  THEN WE WILL BE FREE AGAIN TO DOMINATE THE SMALL WORLD, AND INFLATE OURSELVES AGAIN INTO KINGS AND PRINCES WHO VASSELATE THE WORLD WITH OUR ISOMORPHOUSES.  But what about that damn Arab in the stockade?  The one who is yelling here and yelling there?  HE IS NOTING.  A MADMAN SHOUTING IN A CAVE.  PAY HIM NO MIND.  HE'S A CHARLES LATIN, NUDE THING MORE.  Mais, our very own Notredoomus speaks of Arabs flooding over Europe in the early twenty-first century, taking Italy and driving us back toward norm ending.  ARE YOU SAYING WE SHOULD LET THE AMERICAN FLUTE OUR WOMEN, JUST SO HE'LL PROSPECT US FROM THE OREABS?  It is a subject for great debate before the assembly.  Let us gather our artists and thinkers.  And let us make a big show of it, so the world understands that we're a noble artistic clan -- compared to those feeble American traders.  Away, away -- to the lavetory.  Where we shall plot our re-surrection.  THANK GOD THEY'RE GONE.  I COULD HARDLY HEAR THE HEAVY BREATHING BEHIND ME.  SOMEONE IS ABOUT TO BLOW.  IT REMINDS ME OF MOBY DICK.  THE GREAT WHITE WHALE IS ABOUT TO BLOW HIS BLOW HOLE.  ALL THE OCEAN WILL SOON BE COVERING US, DEAR QUEQUEG.  Clay minerals, or phyllosilicates, consist of strongly bound sheets of silica tetrahedrae and alumina octahedrae which are held together by only weak interatomic forces between the layers, often hydrogen bonding from water.  In kaolinite, one of the most important clay minerals, a single sheet of corner connected Silica tetrahedrae is connected by common apex oxygen atoms to a single sheet of edge-connected alumina octahedrae (it is called a 1:1 phyllosilicate). Kaolinite is widely used in papermaking and rubber production. Neutron diffraction has been used to locate the water and study the hydrogen bonding (white atoms and sticks) between the layers of purple alumina octahedrae and blue silica tetrahedrae.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

(WHAT DID HE MEAN ABOUT YOU BEING...?  Shh.  Pay no attention to a Frenchman.  He is all vanity and puff, always phillateling his own image.  Just enjoy yourself.  You've earned some pleasure in life.)  IT SOUNDS LIKE A WATERWELL UP THERE.  Are they creating water or watt?  STRIKE THE ROCK, MOISTY, AND WATER SHALL FLOW LIKE AN OLD WOMAN'S TONGUE.  Who lives alone; and then meets a stranger.  IT WILL SOON BE A FLOTE.  Rood beer flote.  A RUDE BORE FLEET, YOU MEAN.  Are there ships on the sea?  THERE IS ALWAYS A CARAVAN OF SAILS TO BE DREAMED OF.  Nina, Pinto, and Sainted Moreno.  HIDSPANIC CARGO IN THE HOLE.  GUMMING UP LIKE FLOTSAM.  'Toured the sore face.  (SLIP, SLOOP.)  Invasive surge hairy.  (MILK IN THE WAY.)  Getty in close.  BRAIN BATTERING ROM.  RANDOM ACCESS.  Secula seculorem.  ONAN MEATS NOT SPILT HIS SEEDSONGING ON THE CHARMED WITCH OUT SCION.  (Hoop and hound.)  EYES AND EARS DURING DAY; EARS ALONE DURING NIGHT.  Yes.  That seems sogniflcant.  WAD HER GROOMING UP, OLD FAITHFUL.  Groom'd shaking.  PLATE ON PILLATELATE, PONTIUS PONTIFICATE.  Pontificate her.  FASTER, FASTER.  CARRY IT FASTER.  Wondering lewd.  (Bobbing for Orbles.  Slink, slank.)  Common talc or Mg3Si4O10.(OH)2, is another phyllosilicate usually found in the bathroom. It consists of double layers of silica tetrahedrae sandwiching a single layer of MgO octahedrae (and is called a 2:1 phyllosilicate). The hydrogen atoms appear to play little or no role in binding these layers together, which explains why talcum powderis so slippery ! Pyrophyllite Al2Si4O10.(OH)2 is another well known mineral with a similar structure.  Slide.

 

                                               

 

                              

TALC CUM IT UP, MAID MARION.  RUBBING HOODS WILL MAKE IT SHINE AND SWHALE.  William Tell; William Donut Tell.  O, O, O!  Or-orsay gain't you seed.  (FLAP, FLAP.)  (Elides coming from the inside.)  (DON"T CUT AWAY, SCORE C.C!  UNTIL THE EYE IS WIDE SHUT, MOISTER CYCLOPS!)  (Hang on, Sloopy.  Sloopy hang on!)  YEAH!  YEAH!  (Invaders on the warter.  Coming cloister all the dorm.)  FASTER!  DRINK IT FASTER!  It's like frozen swiss cheese.  So hard a cat can't scratch it.  (WATCH OUT -- WHERE YEW CAN SEA IT!)  Belly on fire.  Vulcan turning ribs.  The shemale of meat.  Plates clicking together.)  BROKE FEAST SHALL SOONDAY BREAK FAST, PHILLY GUMBO.  Oh, the red red robin comes bob-bob-bobbin' along, along.  HARPER'S FERRY.  (I hope she's still a girl.)  WHAT'S YOU NAME THEN?  Don't tell anyone.  ID IS DARK.  NO ONE WILL NO IT.  Romed and romed.  Autographic reward.  Add the dend, Addendor.  CARPULATING COIL  Jibjobber says: 'HEARINGBONED MAN IS NEOW KING.  THIS IS MAUDLIN TIMES.'  Motteling times, I think he means.  MODELLING TIMES: IT'S A 'WOMAN'S' SHOW.  YOU KNOW.  ROME ANTS AND FLOW HAIRS.  SIN DAY CROPHERD, ON A NICKELSMITH RIDE, BOOBS AND BINNESSES BE KINNING ARCHONS.  GATE MOSS, TWIGGY O'TOES SHOES, NAMEONLY CAMELS, GAUDILY SIPPER, AND TALL, LURKY MAD CHESTIC BOSOMED TARRARA BOOM DE BANGS.  And Madelaine times: Mars self prudest carfing a cookie in the name of marmorialade.  GELDING STICKY.  Stocky fingers.  THAT'S THE RUB.  Replacement of one quarter of the Si++++ by Al+++ in talc or pyrophyllite results in a net negative charge of one per formula unit on the layers, which requires the insertion of positive cations such as K+ between layers to give the mica structures biotite KFeMg2(AlSi3O10).(OH)2 and muscovite KAl2Si3AlO10.(OH)2. The potassium ions occupy large holes between 12 oxygen atoms, 6 from the layer above and 6 from the layer below; the resulting K-O ionic bonds are rather weak and easily broken. This explains why mica can easily be cleaved to give uniformly thin layers.  Slide, please.

 

                                               

 

(HOWBOWED THE INSERTION OF POSITIVE CLAY TONS NOW?  Nut hair, please!  I promise that we'll.  POSITIVE CREATIONS.  Nut nod.  OH, YES.  YOU'VE GOT THE STONE NOW.  I'm gumming.  I'M COMING.  Nut yet.  I have to get down these notes on Mica.  WHAT?   Michael is androgynouse.  No -- Mica is anhydrous (contains no water), but in other layered minerals hydrated layers can be intercalated. This is facilitated when the charge on the layers is reduced to less than that of the micas by replacing, for example, part of the Al+++ in the octahedrae by Mg++ as in the 'smectite' montmorillonite [(Mg0.33Al1.67)Si4O10 (OH)2]Na0.33. (The illustration is a numerical simulation of the hydrated layer by the G. Sposito group at the Lawrence Berkley Laboratory). The spacing between layers an expand and contract depending on the amount of water, even though the layers themselves remain intact. This expansion causes structural damage to buildings on soils with a high smectite clay content. With good drainage, Mg will be leached out and kaolinite will be formed instead of the treacherous montmorillonite.  OH, GOD.  YES. YES.  Good drainage.  YES.  YES.  High smectite.  GOD.  (REMEMBER: THERE ARE TEETH IN THERE.)  Structural damage to bull dongs.  YES. YES.  I'M GETTING MY. Ragnarocks off.  PLEASE DON'T CUT AWAY, BEAUTIFUL MOANTIS.  Give me your poor, your tired, your huddled massifs.  FASTER; FASTER.  Wake up, the day is just beginning.  Get up, smell the air.  Wake up, you've got to stop your drifting Away without a care. Trouble and worries all around you. Get it up, keep it up: it's okay.  You know, that love will soon surround you.  Mm mm mm.  Across the milky way a satellite is calling.  We could sail away; so leave the world behind.  And step into the vista; there are bells among the haystacks.  If you'd only care to listen.   GOOD GOD.  THORN DEER TIME.  Fontainebleu.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!  I'd like a squirt and hot dog with mustard and some coal slaw on the side.  SLIDE, PLEASE.  (Oh, you're not done?)

 

                                   

 

HERE, LADIES AND GRAVES, WE HAVE, IN GRAPHIC HOLOGRAMMATIC, EDUCED BY AIRWAVES, WIRELESS IMPURSIONS, OF A MONK'S BRAIN CONCUSSING AT THE MONUMENT OF SOCIAL CLIMATE TAX.  YOU'LL NOTICE THREE FREQUENT TIERS IN COSMIC UNCTION, BODY, SOUL AND SPIRIT ALL IN MUTATIVE FREQUENCY EXTRAPLODATING.  Montmorillonite or 'Fuller's earth' is a natural bleach, and was originally used by Fullers to 'full' or remove grease from cloth. It is soft, expanding and turning into a paste when water is added, and is used as an absorbant, especially in 'kitty litter'!  WIDE PASTE ON HER GIN.  Coming up from the saltine seated dive.  (IN PODS TIMES IT WAS ELSA KNOWN TO CAUSE PREGNANCY IN HUMAN FEMALES OF THE SPECIES.)  Deeb throw it.  CEMETERY SUBSTANCE.  Swoll owled hole.  LIGHTS GAMING UP.  (Applaudits.)  A DARK CLOD MAN IN A GAPE MOVES TOWARD CHRISTMANNTIDE WITH A KNOB IN HIS HARMED, RATES IT OFF OF HIS HEAD, SHOWERING A BLADE GRIMING IN THE PROTECTOR LIGHT, AND EVOKES A SWIFT LOWERING OF STAID BLEED INTO GIRTHMANN'S NON-BODY.  Ear awakener.  EYES UP.  STARS.  Starry starry night; paint your pullet bulled and gored.  Look out of a skimmer's date.  With ides that note the marvels in my shoal.  WHAT?  WHERE ARE THEY?  Auslieb.  ALL OF THEM?  Nonce.  EXEMPT FOR MOISHE HERE, WHO'S BEEN WARCHING YOUR WATCH AIRTIGHTLY WHILE YOU'VE BEEN PREYED.  And breyed upon.  (IS THAT A GRAMMARIAN IN YOUR BUCKET OR ARE YOU JUST WORDHAPPY TO SEAT ME -- AND A BIT BLIZZARDY FOR DICTION?)  (A bluish.)  (DON'T WORRY.  I THINK THE STORM IS OVERT.  NOW IT'S JUST A MADDER OF SHOVELING THE SNOWT OFF THE SIDEYOLKS.)  (Another bluishgreen.)  WED DRAM, WET RAM, WELT REAM: NODE CRIME.  TRAM TRACKS COME RIGHT OFF THE GOALD SHES WITH A LINTEL OLD BOW GREASE, FE-FREUND.  HEY, I'M NO BLABMULER OATHER!  YOUR SECRETE'S SAIF WITH ME, MANNLEICHER.  AINGST NO BOOBMILLER EITHER, AS FAR AS THAT CAN BE THROWN!)  Harp players hurry home.  IT IS NOT TIME YET.  We have not heard the thorndier yet.  YES -- BUT NO.  TIME WINDING BACK FURST.  THEN COMING AGAYGAINST FORWARD.  Anoodle step for day draylight.  YOU ARE TOO HUNKGREEN TO BE AWIGGENED HERE, BOILED MANIFESTO.  YOU KNOW THAT THE PLEASE WILL ARRIVE.  IT HAT BEEN ROTTEN.  THEY WILL TAKEL YOU AWAY.  IT IS IN YOUR SCRIPT.  THE ONE YOU RODE: MONK IN A TRY IT RAPE.  Excuse me?  PULL THE SHE BACK UP ON YOU.  CLODS YOUR EYES AGAINST LIGHT.  PASSIM TIDE.  Go bach bach, reddenbach, or he'll be corn before ur own popping comes.  RIDE YOU ARE -- ONAN OF TWO.  Two tracks to lose.  SUMPTUOUS CORNSUMPTION.  Merlin rouge ant awl.  WARCHING ICHING ALONG A MOVE V, A SIN OF MA.  I'm slinging in the rain, just slinging in the train, wart a wombderfull feeling, I'm harpy against.  I'm slap haggy of gain.  I'm sprinkling, I'm twinkling in the drain.  GAD THAT WAR SHIRT WOMAN TO SAP UP THE TIRE TRACKS IN THE SHES -- AS SHE MOOS TWO WORDS OF MAY TAG.  A GOOSE, SHE'LL BE RUINING HER MONTH TO HER GAPPISH GO SIP PEARL GIRLS, SAINTING WHERE THE MOONSTAIN CAME FROM, WHAT CAMEL LET THE MILK OUT, NOG TURNING AIRILY TO GREATS.  Donut let the mama see that, boid!  Marple it up with a sog or a trowel or sum drink.  And doughnut latte eur sinister no!  I SORE HEAVY, DROPING DOWN TO ROSE A BULL.  Just sippy the arithametic spigot, twoM one threeM one seven.  Acts for the further; and wait for the bloombalistic NO to filter THOU SHALT NOT down in to herbalist cunt science nests.  AND BE PEPPERED TO KNEEL.  IN THE DARGH.  MOUNT DOLL LEAVE ALONE.  SEIGNEUR.  Bite her; mine off.  GONG.  Tympanies libation ration arm read.  GONG.  Block pawn thirst.  GONG.  Rent Arm Meat Function.  GONG.  Pull Pot and smoke, flash.  GONG.  Moose Dung and his brittle panda boys on thier teen bonding over Tao's teddybed and giving up to old Mo a burnished bun clavically braised with vulvasaline reitting Dodd's Carpettunnel.  Homing on to his boyhood for tomb many days apriori to hilter's conversation with rhett.  GONG.  Loaf wink stalling grand leaning over a copse width a farty-five ink a poodle of blued.  PARICULAR ANIMAL.  Running foam the orifice again, Precedent Will He?  SILENCE HER.  A gong he carries; a gong to beerform oxassination.  WATT?  Water your lawn, Transylvanian.  WHAT IS YOUR LOAN, TORN SALVATION?  Brun brotherhand.  DEAR IS.  Tilher and his bond of bobosacktual brunnhildes.  OSTRICH.  TROUBLE INKER.  BADDING BADDNG.  Day orbiter mocks sea fry.  BRACKISH WATER.  DUNE NUT TRINKET.  And the nochtworst is?  DHEU.  And the neckstroot is?  DHEU.  TO RIZE IN A MOIST, DUDST, DENSTEST, SCATTERBLATTER.  BOX.  Do make dark; do blankout; dew whirl and swirdle; blue away; risen like smoken; Mao stirriest; balk; deeb bund halo.  DHIG DHEEPER!  DHIG DHEEPER!  Do begum hollow, X hasted, dunconscience; twindle; varnish; diet.  DO DIET.  Die in the Dheeper Dhig for ort own bones.  MOOD BENEATHEN MY NAILS RUN IN.  NORI.  HOMO.  Hummel sabean?  DHIG DHEEPER, LITERAL DHIPPER.  Dheebrow fundig.  HHIGHBROW FUN DIG.  Is daleth wart thit shivs?  TALK LESS, SLAVE.  DHIG FOR GOULD.  Witch Gould?  HE PLOYED PANINO.  Jake Oold?  THE MANKS WITH OLD MOLOTOV.  Dheep brown fun dig.  BOWEL TROWEL?  NEED YOU BORRY A TRUNKET?  Donut leave the luckystrike lying on the ledge like the last one you did for all the 'postrophes to see at.  WIDTH A PAPER FLOPPING OPER.  Talk, Talk, I taught eye'd die-ie-ie; Id seemped so sunny to me.  SINK AT YOUR OWN RHISK, WHISKERS.  Widge risk?  OF WALKING THE DEWED.  THOSE ALL A ROUND ABOOT YE, MASTER DUCET.  The deadlin deffelheims. MAGGING THE TRINES RUIN ON TIME.  China's doomped bellow die wreckedly, maoster con.  IS IT NOT OUR DIRTY TO MAKE THE WORLD GOLD'S KINGDOM?  THE HEAVENLY COMMON UNITY?  Quit stalling!  Dhig Dheeper!  Soul Sin Knit Sin.  CARPETY M.  Lowbrown find it!  THYEAST HANDS WERE ONEDANCE SO KEEN AND CLEARY.  Hear, in the dharklurkings.  THERE ONES WAS A MOUND FROM DEBUKE.  WHO SAID TO SEE HER AGAIN MADE HIM PUKE.  ALONG CAME A SPIDER; HE CROLED UP INSIDE HER.  ANT NOW HE IST RARELY FORESOOK.  Limn her rook.  Her in the durk.  OH, LET ME KILLSS EUR LILTEARL BUSH.  SO PERTY THERE WIDTHLOUT A HAIR.  Dig fattser, Fielder.  HUGE EUR BUTTON, IF LUGE HALF TOE.  War diddle all the pearlty wombend go?  FOX HOLE.  Malecur speared her legs obpert.  Tay can give.  Tay can give, Firth.  DON'T PERT YOUR MUMBER IN THE MUDMER, GRUMPY MURDERMAN.  TID SKIN NODE OSIN, CLAY VOYRANT.  TID SKIN A GROVE, UNDER NO SKIN.  No more bad news, thankyou.  That's why eye'd ont wreath the even ing news.  Cause sits all no get I've stovies.  ACT LIKE A SLAVE, BEAT TREADED LIKE ASS LAVE.  Ahh, homo sarc dual humus!  I KID RUN A RAM THROUGH YOU AND NODE A ONE WOULD SAVE A WORLD.  Art you groinna terrorize odds now.  EVENS WILL TORRIORIZE ODDS WITH A THREAD OF A PLOW STICK DICK, MISTER DIPSOS.  Berry the bones overt here, near the covert.  Hats wear weird berry all teh ahbor Teds all Teddy.  TAY RIOTS OF THE WARMEN TO JUICE.  NUT THINK IST SO SORCED AS THE RYE OATS OF THE WORM MEN TO CHEW.  And wad about the Barbies?  TROW M IN THE DEARTH.  HAY ARE NUTTING BUT MANERALS IN THE FOISTED TRIM MISTER.  Geep your worst good and triumph; fucks your nose; geld your bubbles invaded; geeb your sucks axle young and fundig for obernich; down get dulled and ged vat by darning your bawdly over to sum damp dawn key boid and girgle.  I DONNA WANDA BE A MAUDLER.  I WANNA WANNS BE A MOD DOLL INKSTAND.  Stig eur ginfer in the muddler furst; maid sure there aint a rogue in there.  Break off your stake, nose for a doll.  MAY BEE EYE'LL FOOND A MAGGY SCENE DOWN HERE TO LIFT TIN.  Foal.  You, Cain, cunt libben fibben in a moxy seen.  Eur oars woe bent exempt it.  Yore nose will axe form a metricisist.  WHAT IS THAT SMELL?  IS IT A TEEMING AVIANT SUMPTUARY -- A SANCT OF TAR BOILED WAR TEARS?  IS IT A MORSE THAT WE'B CROW ATED -- UNT A POOZLE WE CUNT SALVE?  Dig dheeper, wart red surry.  A galute of double loons may be parried her beloan.  HYPERSALINE.  Is there wartears down here?  CUNT DRUNK THE SALT OF YOUR EYEFLAPPERS, GOLD LIETH.  Wad if I dhig so dheep that I borey mycelt in ossein?  GAY ANT YOU SWIM?  Gestalt will mock you flowed, want it?  BATON ROUGE.  Dribbting down de old Miss Ojibway.  SILT IN YOUR AIR.  DOVE ELOPE GILLS, IF YOU'D LIB HEAR, DUMBO.  A stigmata.  My I's have a probe limb of a stigmata.  KELP M CLOTHESDED THEN.  PULL THE SHE OB OVERT EUR HAT, MODEATHER.  Suche thirdst!  GATOR RAID.  Suche a deed hide ration, Detritus.  EYES MIDST OF MORE HARP, DHEEP, SWOREDEN; CORNER DIANNE MOON TONE, BURRIED BURRIED; LORRIE SPRINGWAITER, UNICORN TENDENCY; WED SLUR'S MUDDERS WANT HER PURE GAY SEAL SPRUNG WITTER, BURN A BEE CORN OF DAY; MIDTOWN VOLLEY VOLLEY HOD SPANK ARK AND SAW SASS.  BLUE MOON WITTIER SORE STEMS, BRAND TEN, COON NADA; UND SHARE A KEY BATTLED WONDER, SURE ACHY NORN THICK AIRLINES TOYED WIDTH WISHED PURRINGS BRING PORE RIFFLED DUNKING WAR TEARS, PURSE TONED IN DIANA; STONE CLAIRE SPANKS OFF FUN LEAR TUNA SEA.  IDOL WAIDER IS COOLERLESS AND CLAY EAR, ORDERFREE, WIDTH A BALLAST MATH FIELD AND NOTES ANGLE ODORPOURORING DATE SET OR OFF TEAR TAINTEDST.  R you reeding an eld pauper, or watt?  POETER'S FEELED IS WEAR WE ART DRUGGING, MIDSTERN WRENNISH.  YOU SLATE THE REDST.  Salton Sea, I heartly nude ye.  ELEPH ANT OR DUN KEY.  Bombed Bay Beach.  Farmer ide eel commune entity, parsing on eur lebft.  LUGE SQUIGGLY, THE TERN IS MOVING SEWN FOBST, HERR POW CUT WATCH.  High tiled; load isled.  WATCH THE SHALED FIDGE GLOOM UP ON THE HOUR.  Playing go scrabble at the boot dim of the C.  WATT IS HEAR, PULLING UP FROM THE BOTTLE DIM OF THE MOOT.  Andover ladder from our Andy Hero to his Down Under Enter Trainer.  CAN YOU REDE BY MODDLELIGHTEL?  Dear Nigel Best.

 

Nigel:

 

Excuse my eve's dropping on your conversation.  The paradox is that, while Joyce seems to abhor mysticism, Finnegan's Wake is one of the greatest mystical tracts ever written (using as prototypes The Book of Kells and the Egyptian Book of the Dead, two great mystical tracts).  Clearly he abhorred the other-worldly mysticism of Yeats and all -- but he obviously adores the 'body mysticism' he describes with glee in FW.  FW is about the dream and about life-after-death.  That is what mysticism is about.

       The dualism of eyes and ears in FW acts as an emblem for 'precreation' and 'creation' (to use Andrew's terms): the ears being the eternally open doors; and the eyes being the periodically open doors of Day, Light, creation of the world.  The ears weave a wicker-like picture of the world in which sounds overlap and weave together a kind of phonographic picture of the world (round and round) -- and the ears actually feed the world of creation and awaken the eyes to the separation, the dualism, whereby the world of forms is created and nourished.  The eye (the I) is the separation of the Individual from the Whole and the development of the Hero consciousness which, in fact, fuels the evolutionary model inherent in Nature.

       I don't understand the conclusion that the 'Bible is wrong' in this symbolic description of this dualism.  The Bible begins with the Dawn, with creation, generation, the Light, the eyes being opened.  At least it does after a short mystical treatment of the 'precreation'.  Genesis is about the Dawn and the birth of the nature of the National God of Day.  Sex, birth, and pro-creation of the future.

       Radio waves and sound waves (the food of the ears) are local during the day; and they are international (intergalactic) during the night.  This is an emblem of the duality between internationalism (post- and pre-creation) and nationalism (creation).  Between non-body experience (FW is about the corpse buried under the earth, waiting for the rebirth of the body) of Night; and the body experience of the Day.

       The tailor gives the soul a new suit of clothes for the day (a regenerated body); the soul is a 'misfit' at dusk.  He doesn't fit in to his society any longer; his clothes no longer fit.  He has no body.

       Shaun is the body-soul aspect of the unity and Shem if the soul-spirit (or soul anti-matter) aspect of the unity.  Shaun and Shem are, in fact, the same entity, in a different light, in a different body-type.  Shaun becomes Shem and Shem becomes Shaun. They are the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.  Reflections of one another.  The motor of evolution/involution.

       The idea that '0 is 1 in the end' is not true, in fact.  1 is never zero.  1 may return to zero, metaphorically, as a fruit returns to a seed, but a fruit and a seed are never the same, by definition -- even as they share a common history.  I would agree that zero can represent 'precreation' and 1 can represent 'creation' but to say that 0 is 1 in the end is like saying that the son is the mother in the end.  The son never is the mother -- either that or words and concepts mean nothing.  The son may be absorbed by the mother (Mother Earth, symbolically) in the end; but the son ceases being the 1 when he is not the 1.

       And what is 'the end' anyway.  There is no end in this world view.  The zero, the void, the post- or pre-creation, is a stage in the process, no more real than any other stage.  The enlightenment of the mind simply precedes the enlightenment of the body which simply precedes the enlightenment of the mind again.  That's how we evolve.

       Immortality concerns the individual's and the society's and the species' ability to keep both the matter-soul body and the soul-antimatter body vital for when each is needed.  (Shaun and Shem.)

       Joyce loved to mystify with his use of language.  Arguing exact meanings in Joyce is somewhat against the nature of the work, since each word, each syllable, is a prism through which a light is shown, illuminating a plethora of lights and light-meanings.  Puns and allusions are, by their nature, difficult to 'pin down'.  FW is a magical light show (the light generated from the inside, the way the flashlight fish generates its own light in the deep parts of the ocean): dream-light, running across one's closed eyelids.  I think of the book as a man running through the dark with a flashlight in his mouth.  Word-images shake with every step, creating a magical effect but certainly an inexact picture of reality.  I don't argue that Joyce's web of meanings is inexact -- but the surface pictures generated by light shining through syllables certainly is.  And the exactness of Joyce's meanings comes more from Joyce's letters and the numerous excavations written by FW analysts than it does from FW itself.

       I think Joyce's understanding would have become, over time, that Shaun appears when the society needs Shaun; and Shem appears when the society needs Shem.  And when Shem needs to be overthrown, Shaun overthrows him.  And when Shaun needs to be overthrown, Shem overthrows him. 

       With all the corruption of form that religion as a political entity goes through, this understanding remains the foundation of real religion.  That the laws of nature exist for the benefit of life.  And this is the basis of all true faith.

 

MJC

 

FAITH!  WAD DIT YOU KNOW OF FAITH, FATHER CRUMB?  Wade!  Hear's anoon other!

 

Nigel:

 

I could make a case of how Shaun is the principle of Good and Shem is the principle of Evil.  The reading depends where you are standing (in the Universe looking in/out or in the Anti-Universe looking out/in).

       From the perspective of the Universe looking in, Shem is lazy, irresponsible, criminal, manipulative, lacking in loyalty; a master at using language to justify anything, especially his own selfishness.  He is likely an alcoholic or a drug addict; and a petty thief to feed his habits.  He loves to play the martyr role; but he is rejected by society mostly because he insists on the negative, on death.  He is afraid of material light.  He is a snake slithering through the Garden of Eden.  He also murders his brother, murders the light.  He is like Typhon.  A follower of Chaos.

       From the perspective of the Anti-Universe, he is the artist, the indvidual thinker, the moral force, the saint.  The lover.  The decent seeker after truth;  seeker of spirtual light as opposed to material light. 

       Everything is perspective.  It all depends upon which side you are standing.  On what side you are on at a given time/space: matter or antimatter.

       No matter which side you are on, you are doomed to be disappointed, in that your faith in either side stems from seeing the idea in a clear light.  Ultimately each side must face the shadow side of that ideal.  This leads to self-hate, self-rejection, oppositon; and to a switching of sides.  This is re-birth.

       Shaun is the hero; Shem is the anti-hero.

       Shaun seeks to protect the woman, civilization, and the society.  He is the shell and he protects the egg, the sun, the soul, that is inside.  He is a warrior for time and order.  He defeats the dragon of chaos and brings the light of reason to the world.

       Shem is the destroyer of civilization aspect.  He condemns the society for not being good enough, condemns the woman to poverty and darkness.  He says he supports the woman; but in fact wants the woman to support him.  He is always a child and wants his women to always be his mother.  On one hand he is pure spirit; on the other hand he is death.  There is always someone else to blame.  Dark man.

       Shaun is the father aspect seeking to marry his daughter. Shem is the son aspect seeking to marry his mother.  The Father's job is to teach his children discipline by telling them no.  The mother's job is to teach her children love by telling them yes.

       That is another spin on this matter.

       But I agree with you Nigel about the unity factor.  When Shem grows disillusioned with the Shem role (through self-judgement and self-condemnation), he is re-born as Shaun.  When Shaun grows weary of the Shaun role (through self-judgement and self-condemnation), he takes over the mast of Shem.

       Energy ever-recycling.  In a figure 8.  Meeting at the center.

 

MJC

 

ORE THEAR MORE LIKE FITS DOWN HEAR?  Baudoom lets pits, Boomhauer.  Everysing parried.  JAUNE AND JERRY HARRY HIM VERY LEA.  Jean and Jim very lay inside of him parts.  Pitted parts.  Joined and fairied.  Choined and tarried.  Spilt indewt woo.  MARKLE AND SARKON.  Markle Trout and Sarkon Drought.  SARKON STURGEON; SARKON CRAB.  Don't drinkle the wartibber dune dear.  Sewage stinks.  Ant sewage spills.  LOVE CANAL.  Weird not spanking nowt taboot prisoning endvirilemounts.  MAYPOLE WE SHED, DARGHER HEIFFER.  Dheu dropper Shem dropper.  Marvel phanes will nether stop her.  THE LADDERS ARE SO CLARE.  OOP AND DUNT.  HIRE ARK HE.  Memember: oop and dunt is she, ore four.  Ride and Loaft is he, ore three.  WHERE ISN'T THAT POINTER NOW, WITH HIS MORDRICK GALOSHES UND HIS BOUGHT AUDAL OF MEXESCALATINE FRONDS BITTER, LIESURGING SYNTHESSEX DIETHELENE.  SIBBING OVERTHERE INERT THE PADDOCK.  Parrot him and widge him wake.  NOD YET.  LAIT HIS SLEEP AN UTTER DOZEN MORMONS.  Tree blonde moss; treed blonde mites; seek howdy rounds; sleek hearty rhones; the tall ran off to the former's wife, she court off his nail with a cautring knife, did you offer she sucher a sign if your strife as treed blonde moss.  NIGH ANKARA CALLS.  Slowly I turin.  Stirrup by stirrup.  Instep by instep.  Zen eyes trachia.  GENTS WITHOUT RENTS ARE EVER-TURNED INTO THE MODDER SHEM.  Placenta; galenta.  DAILY, DAILY, SPROCKETS.  SING IN A WILD FRONT EARS.  Noose real.  Noose reel.  DUDE, YOU NOTE THE WAIT TO SAINT JOSE.  I'M GAMING BUCKS TO GRIND SOME PARTS OF MIND OF SAINT JOSE.  I WISHED BURNT AND BRAISED OFF SAINT JOSE.  DORMS TURNED DUST AND BLOWST SO SWAYSE SO SWAYSE ASWAY.  Ellie is a grade bog freeweight.  Put a hungry dorm and bite a card.  NICHT.   Cod shall and bird bear a rook.  MEMORIUM TO MERMARIONMAID.  Roll away the stone, Rozabal.  Rosa bud.  Rose of Monday.  Rock stencil on a palisade.  RAAB HIS FACES OWN A LEAN HITE LOTH, DOUBLE DOUBLE VERONIQUE.  Dream faster, CWC!  Dream faster!  LACE ALLEYS PASSE LAYS ALL LOW WETTERS, DEUX PAR DEUX, TREE BY TREE.  LAW DORMED HERE, SIRHAN, SIRHAN, AH! AH!  Geeper of the Kate!  Greeper of the Kate!  TOOTH CAPECREEPERS RILE THE KING'S DRUM: HOOVEN AND HAILED ON BATH SIDES.  Dunce chilled drink.  Trance are roomed the Fingered Date.  TIN DUN, DIANE HOPE, HIGH BIN.  EYE CONE, TEA KNOW.  EYE DAY, TEA SAW.  DUMB VEIL NEW CHEWER, KNOW CHOP.  DOPE CAN COW NEWEN COW SALINE LINEN.  LEAN HORN LIE NEWER.  LINEN.  DAINTY GINCH ATE.  DEW ACHE TEA AND DONG.  Transylvanslate, silly view plates.  HOOVENED AND HAILED OUT BATH SITES.  HE IT HOSE WHITES WILLED WIN; HE OUT HOSTS FOLLIES WILLED FELLS.  OTT NOCKEN, REMEMEMBER EUR GOLD GOTTEN.  PREY SO USE RETENSION YOUR SOLE.  YORE SOLD, YORE SOLD, REEMMEMBERT YOU'RE SALT.  SEW WENT YOUR DYEING YOU SHELLED GOWN ADD UP TO SHEVEN, BOLD HEADERET.  Hairsuit; maresuit.  GRIEG WHITE HORSE  Crank wide hearse's S.  BUM BUM BILLAWAY, GUM OR LESS EYE"LL BULL YOU AWAY.  Rood Rover, Root Rober, sent Wilmot ride over.  WILMOT AND MILWOT.  Milwrot a pig of pa's malt.  FRIEND'S COURTOFSONG.  Noah, Nuah: send Will Rot Riot Over.  W C CEILINGFIELDS.  Store buried feelings for ever.  OLD WAYS KNOW, SOMA TIMES DRINK, IT'S ME.  BUILT LOW EYE'S KNOW WARN ID'S A DREAM.  EYES THINK EYES KNOW EYES MEAN A YES, BARD, ID'S A-A-A-ALL WRUNG; HAT IS EYES THING; I TOSS A GREEN.  Loot may take you down, bet I'm growing to, stars bury feelings for ever.  NORTH THING IS REAL.  BUT IT'S NOTHING TO GET HUNG ABOUT.  Nord thing to gat hanged above.  STREWN BERRY BEETLES BORE BREATH HERE.  Breed deerb the mothering moon, witch love fades from every gloom, bagshitter peep holes look bad in cement, an olderday's use less energy, and spend.  Impersoned louvers gristle as wont; the lone only mensch cries forelorn and has nuns.  Noon mauder perks up and soggies her stone; Senior Citizen weds that his toots werered long.  Gold darted whorb that roodles the nice, ream moves the collards from ore's height.  Rat is great and yelling wide.  Bed we death side which witch is ride; and wide witch is on collusion.  SINKING, THE BLACKET STONE BRACKETT STONE.  Deepopper in deepuppetbed.  LISTEN TO YOUR KNEEE POPPING EVERLY TIME YOU TRY TO SING OR TRY TO RICE.  Stirfried breath.  IS THAT SNOW UP THERE?  Linen.  SALTY DOG.  Lioning.  WEIRD ARE ALL THE OTHER VOICES, OTEHR ROOMS.  Where tit your botty go?  ID WAS STRETCHED OUT TEAR, RIGHT AMONG THE UNDER WEAR.  Gigandish radar calling gigandish radar.  Over.  STA-STA-STA-STATIC.  STA-STA-STA-STATIC.  Don't smore ya big buggerboo!  RAY DEO.  RAY DEO.  Open your ears and see!  DAY REAL.  DAY REAL.  Jesus H. Christ -- what was that?  Did you hear it!  WATT?  That sound; did you sound that sound?  GASTRONOMICS?  Nein.  A gall of bass poor hopes.  It game flurrying bite.  Id almost smacked us.  HEROINE -- JAUNE DARK.  No.  Some sling hurtleturtling through the nide.  WAS IT A BIRD, A PLANE?  A plane full of no rubs maybe -- more luckily, an aster roid.  A FLEUR AVEC HEM-HEM-DE MURGATROIDS?  Bella Neurox, Bella Neurox, dormez-vous, dormez-vous.  Knick a nock of Nick's brew; knick a nock of Nick's brew.  Dormez-vous.  Dormez-bouse.  ROSE BARD.  Snuggled puss.  THE YOKE-HEAVY BORE.  A huggle very honed.  TOMB AND BURIED.  Roddy and ball wrinkled.  DICK DRAW MC GRAW.  Paltry Poe the child of Moe.  NAUGHTY DOGGY AND DOCKIE DOO.  Stipple overt the brown snow, Timmy.  HERE, LAD SEE!  COME HERE, LAD SEE!  And donut flicka your buggas my weight, my friend.  FLINT STONE, MATE THE FLINT SCONE, FLAY A MOLTEN STONE AGE OF ME.  FROM THE TONE OF BEDROCK, TEAR A PLATE RIDE OUT OF HIS TORY. You'll have a do time.  A yabba doo time.  Yule have a dray old time.  ASTERISK AND OBELISK.  Frank Furter and the roman candle ambulience.  YABBA DABBA DOOOBA BLUEBBA BOBBLEDEBOBBLEDE HOBBLEADOPPLERVECT.  Lad's war itch televivid itching.  WHERE'S THE SWATCH?  Temporal laropmet.  OCTAGON NOGATOC.  Leaders widowed letters.  LITTERS WIDOWED LADDERS.  Yang key oodle day.  SNOOBER AND BLUBBER.  Ye old low key bore.  SNAG KEEL POSE.  Bottom tac(k) topple.  JADE SONGS.  Term the sommed ob loiter.  CHAINGED TO WILLIE GATOR, WALLY ROTAG.  You zoomed moral like Master Twiddle by the whorer, kelping a cage for your even wild nominal, zooslapper.  JEW BITER, URSELF.  Sittern sattern, twone up the volumette.  NAD ASSHES, AUNT BURRIS.  Chase tomal killa gorilla, Diane.  ESTRANGER'S MYTH.  Lippeopold the liar, Jacob.  DING-A-LING.  BELL RING FURVIEWEN THE WHOLE QUAY WHARF.  Beards soaring.  SATURNALIA.  Sung blooded out by clods.  COOL, MAKE COOL, CLOUDS MAKE COOL, COOL CLOUDS MAKE COOL, COLLOQUIAL MARQUAND.  Party cake, Party cake; Baker's mend.  CRUSADER RARE BIT.  Don't use that worse!  (The berbers will barber your beerbar, few make them maude!)  CREWS AID DOOR ROB BRAT!  Lick send due him cue.  DEW JUNG TO MAVERICK A WORD SOUND.  L'il pixie and dixie wubber butt.  YABBA DABBA DOO.  MOMMIE.  DADA.  Nut thing mover than dada -- do make you dodo.  OXE STINKT BARD.  Short spear.  I CAN'T SEAL ANY DRINK.  Ice closed.  Ice closed.  LID SEND TO MOTOR MONK.  Shaking inside the stone.  BORING.  Lying silence.  LARCEN DEEPER.  Coming dirt.  EUR IT.  No, God you last.  NO, I GOD YOU LUST.  Donut touch me there.  I'll tell mummy.  WARP HIM UP IN A CORMORANT OF HIS OWN RIDINGS, TO SLEEP TO COLD OUT.  TEAR A PLATE OF OF HIS BOOKLE.  ID'S LIKE NOOSE PAPER, AIN DOT.  COM.  Babbabbabbabbabel.  ROB ID AROONED MICKEY"S SLOBBERING BOBBING DEE.  War did we bee bofear tea fee?  BIBLE REDDING.  Warrant?  ID USED TO BEE WE WAR SHED THE BUY BELL AS OUR TEA FEE.  I don't com dot pray dot hen dit. Dot.  IN HER NET YOU ARE FOUND THE BLIND TAR, TARBABY TURBIN DEAD.  Fidge jet around.  Led them no yet art aloof.  SOUND SEANCE.  MEETING CONTECTED THROE SOUND SEANCE.  Sonic sentence.  TWAIN BABBELIONIANS, MARK AND MUCK.  Mark Rater and Muck Raker.  JOSEY AND DE PUDDY TATS.  Punkin Puss and Mush Mouse.  RICK O'SHEA AND BING-BING BROAR BRABBAT CROSS BOY.  Mid shear jinx.  DUM DUM.  DUM DUM.  Droop-along cask, shitty Kate OT.  PITAR.  PILAR POTARO.  Secret squirrel!  ATOM ANT!  Morocco mole!  WINSOM WITCH!  Squiddly diddly!  YIPPY YAPPY YOOEY.  Peter 'potamus.  INSTEPS WILL GET YOU NO WHERE.  Eye no you here; but wad am eye?  PARVIS AND POOPHEAD.  Treed blarney miced, treed fined midst, steed how it roams; steed how it roams.  THE BARD WENT UP ON THE HILLOCK TRAIL.  HE ATE A BERRY; HIS BOWELS DID FAIL.  HE SQUATTERED THERE ON THE HELL LOCKED TRAIN.  FREED BROWN RICE;  FRIED BURNT MICE.  Days flee; days flee, clock it; he sings of his wife's front tears.  BORED ON A MOON TONE TOP FROM TEN NEST SEEDS, GRAVEST MINT IN THE LOOMED OF THE SPREE; GRILLED A BAR WANK HE WAS COUNTING THREE.  JAY CEE; JAY CEE TALKS IT.  SEND HIM TO THE TEMPLE NOW.  Hey boy, get the hell outta here now!  War it's the hell's wrong with you, such a langue face and all.  Cunt a man have any funk arooned you widgeout the old markymark scapulars carping out in your longo, mongo?  RIKKI TIKI TAVI.  Thor, hire doll.  LISHEN OVER THOR ACT YOU ARE SITSTER.  SHEETS WARRING A DROSS.  EYE CAN'T OLD MOST HAIR HEAR PANTIES FROMME HIER.  LID SEND CARFULLY.  Switch; switch.  BRIAR PADGE RUB IT.  Lishen overt oar hat you are sorestore, antsy net ooooooo dray.  MARE MARE MOCK SLEEP, WEAR YOU ANY GHOUL.  YARD, SHIRK; YARD, SHIRK, TREE STONE YAWNS FRILL.  Gib the lottle kipper a nipper, mammaduke.  Squid some milk in due his milk hole; mage him strap yapping.  BUTT HIM ON A WICKER BARGE IN SOME ATTIC DAMP RIVER IN JAMIMY.  Havel, Navel, Babble.  TRAY KEY ODD OF ME.  Brath, Brath deep the charmering glue.  Witch lights fadze from eve's oary womb.  DONUT DROP A STONE DOWN IN SITE OF THERE, SCYLLA.  LOOSE IT FOR OVER IN THE LEAD CORMORANTING CORE IBIS.  Medio tutis simus ibis.  HOCKULEM, HOCKULOREM.  First, there were the mice. And then there were the maggots. This flagrant inattention to patient care occurred four years ago at the Kansas City Veterans Hospital, but is only now being revealed. In 1998, the VA hospital in Kansas City, Missouri cut its housekeeping staff. As a result, the hospital's cafeteria and food storage areas were not properly cleaned. That led to a massive infestation of mice.  There were so many mice they would fearlessly dash over employees' feet--even in the hospital director's suite. So the hospital hired exterminators to rid the facility of the vermin, but the pest control contractor didn't collect all the mouse carcasses, leaving some scattered throughout the building. That attracted green blowflies, which lay their eggs in dead mice.  The flies also laid their eggs in the fetid nasal discharge of two comatose patients in the hospital's intensive care unit.  Although one patient died two days after the maggots were removed, neither patient was believed to be harmed by them, reports Reuters. "They're ghastly, but they're harmless," Dr. Stephen Klotz, then the hospital's chief of infectious disease, told the Associated Press, adding he found a few other cases where flies laid eggs in patients at other hospitals. The hospital no longer has problems with cleanliness and scored 99 out of 100 when it was inspected by the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Hospital Organizations in October. The case was reported on Monday in the Archives of Internal Medicine, a medical journal published by the American Medical Association.  RAY DEO.  RAYMOND DEOMONDE.  ITALIC SUPERCRIPT SUBSCRIPT ANKH QUOTE.  Lays oily passe.  DURKNESS FALLS LIKE A WINDOW CERTAIN ONCE SET BOB DOPS BELOW THE MOON TAINT PEACE.  Bib orange ball.  ROIL IT BUG AND FORCE.  Whose is lessening (dolorous) to the rodeo anywhere?  END PR!  END IT NOWT!  Sue some stands bark -- bark  -- bark.  DOGGIE DOUBT SIDES SUM WORDS?  Park - stark - park - quark.  MUD MUSCLE IS FLACID, AND IST GORING RUNCID.  Bund over whoremann.  A dophin ob roaching yer hankering hill.  TORN THE PAGE!  MAKE IT HARD!  Bee-now.  Bee-now.  ACHE IS THE TRY ANGLE, STONING PRUDE ON TWO FORTS.  BEET IS A WOMB END LACHING ON HER SWORD, HER BOBBIN ENDS SHOWERING OPEN FOR MAD STAR ACHE TO BUTT HIS THINK IN.  Double buttoming in.  Butting a little C in soilt.  Mi mi mi mi mi.  FAR SO FAR SO FAR SO.  Laid T laid T laid T.  DO DO DO DO DO DO.  Less alley pass say.  WHO'S STORKING THAT BOG BARTERING RAM IN HAIR, IN TUMULUS, INN DOOR DARK?  Widow it a rainscot.  DO INK PARSEUPS UNDT HELL IT VARMINTS.  Rose of Belle.  In coarse mirror.  YEHEDUID'S MORTAR.  Spank Angleish, if you'd wilt!  YEHEDUID'S MUD HEIR.  Thoth is barter.  ONTER THE SYBIL BULL THERE IS SUM OX EAR ROYAL EDDY.  Ink a stone's sigh lense.  YIDS.  I WAR SENSE GONG TO SAIT IS SEWED -- BUT, YEAR'S RIOT, CHORUS.  Absinthe makes the heart grow rounder.  ABSINTHE MERITS THE HORRID GROW WONDER.  YONDER.  Daleth due.  Down owns.  STORKS PRINTED HOLIER ON ZEUS DAY AS THE BOREST RITING IN CAN SWIMMER GUN FITNESS SINS THE BEE-BOP HIT THE M-NOP ON THAT WHORE RIPPLE DATE NEIN WIN WIN STIRRUPED THE UBBIDITY WHIRRLED AND THE TWONE TOURERS WAR MAPLED IN DUE VAY BEER BY THE HOLLOW COAST BLABBER A SHAME HE'S BEEN LIEBENED.  TOADY.  Rate hail oat.  AY EO.  The glowing economic data helped the market shake off negative effects from analyst downgrades of WorldCom and Applied Materials and an SEC probe  into Internet security firm Network Associates.  Financial and cyclical stocks were the biggest gainers among blue chips.  DONUT WARP UP YET, SPARK.  STILL DOILY.  MUCH TAR VEILING TO DO, STILL.  MUCH STAR VYING STILL TO BEAT YOUNG, MIDST HER STORK.  LEAD HER.  Flap, flap.  WIND DOWN CORDON FIBBING ON DUN DOFF.  Lace sully pod say.  RIBBULANCE.  ROBBULANCE.  Gorging down in the gorbing town.  CALL ME MISTER LUTEUS!  Mister Uterus?  CALL ME ID IS MALE!  Ishmael?  CALL ME MASTER TUBBS!  Mishta Dibs?  DIBBY DUBBS.  EYE"D DIBBY DUBBS THAT WIDE STALLION -- IF ONLY AYE COULD SEA IT.  You canned tuna tock but you gammy sea it when you say it.  COVER YOUR HOOD, WHEAT BOYCE.  SHEEPS ALL BOUT TO SHORT SITTING DUN AGAIN.  I've gut your bark, brooder.  E I E I O.  AND DON THIS PRAM HE HAD A PISPIGLIANDO.  E I E I O.  WIDTH A PISS PISS HERE AND A PIGS PIG THERE, HERE A PIG, THERE A PISS, EVERYWHERE A WIT'S PAAR, OLD MIKE'S DUN NULLED HAT A FIRM.  E I E I O.  Dada.  MARIONBADEND.  Wharse wid you spig off.  MOMMA MAY I?  Under the yum yum troth.  WID ANYNOON ELSE BOUGHT ME.  ANYNOON ELSE BUD ME.  ANYNOON ELSA BOATA ME.  TONE SHIT HUM DEAR THE UTERINE TREE WIDTH ANYNOON ELVIS BODE MEAL.  HIS TOOTH IS MARCHEEING ON.  Weal said.  HE DID THE MARSH.  HE DID THE MONSTER MARSH.  IT WAS A GAS; IT CAUGHT FIRE IN A FLASH.  HE DID THE MARSH; HE DID THE MONSTER MARSH.  Yes, it was a graveyard smash.  DATES ONE TO IBICALLY KNOW ONE.  A sizable asteroid zipped near our planet this month without anyone noticing because it traveled through an astronomical blind spot, scientists said.  The space boulder passed Earth within 288,000 miles (461,000 kilometers) -- or 1.2 times the distance to the moon -- on March 8, but since it came from the direction of the sun, scientists did not observe it until four days later.  The object, slightly larger than one that flattened a vast expanse of Siberia in 1908, was one of the 10 closest known asteroids to approach Earth, astronomers said.  "Asteroid 2002 EM7 took us by surprise. It is yet another reminder of the general impact hazard we face," said Benny Peiser, a European scientist who monitors the threat of Earth-asteroid collisions.  If it pierced the atmosphere, the approximately 70-meter-long rock could have disintegrated and unleashed  the energy equivalent of a 4-megaton nuclear bomb, researchers said.  "If it were over a populated area, like Atlanta, it would have basically flattened it," said Gareth Williams, associate director of the International Astronomical Union Minor Planet Center in Boston, Massachusetts.  The rock is considerably smaller than dozens of potential planet killers 1-kilometer in size or larger that lurk in the inner solar system.  Like its larger siblings, asteroid 2002 EM7 follows an elliptical orbit with an extremely low risk of Earth collision in the coming decades or centuries.  Nonetheless, astronomers maintain that constant surveillance is necessary to identify more killer rocks in our neighborhood and ensure that none take our planet by surprise, in particular those traveling near the blinding light of the sun.   "If one comes from the direction of the sun, we're not going to see it," Williams said.  "Often these objects are outside of the Earth's orbit for a significant amount of time. The key is to detect them when they are outside the Earth's orbit and predict whether they might hit us in the future from the sun side." Even lesser rocks such as 2002 EM7 could do serious damage by plunging into the ocean and unleashing monster tsunamis on coastal cities, he said. According to NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, 2002 EM7 could smack into Earth in 2093.  But don't tell the grandchildren to head to the hills just yet.  The odds of a collision are currently 1 in 10 million and could become even more remote with more refined calculations.  PETER PAUL AND HARVEY.  Stand by for nudes.  A D O RAY AVES WAY.  Who is Aldo Ray and Ava Gardner?  CORRECT.  FOR MINUS THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS.  Swimming back against the tide of Time All Man say.  ALMOND ESSAY.  I dreamed I saw a a blanched almond stuck in a woman's teeth on a elevator ride.  I had a rose in my moodth; the thor nad perpetrated mile hip.  AND THOR IS THE WORD YOU CANNOT SAY.  Slip slide slam slit slough sled slay slut slick slid slim slot slant slack slew.  IS THOR ID A RATESING HORSE?  Sea saddle slew.  WIDE ARSE OR WHEAT HEARSE?  Winnowing.  STALKING TO ME, MECELT AND MEEYE.  Slurp init.  S KIMU.  EYESEE STAY SHUN.  Egg loom.  IN HAIR?  Widow out doubt.  CAN YOU SWARM?  Meet might shelved dun eyes.  AN ARM ME OF TWO BRANDS IN OWN.  Doushe in ein.  GEEB EUR IDES CLOSED, JAY CEE.  Sell tea, Doug.  SING DEEP IN DEW, THE GRANDMOTHERING WOMB.  WORDS LIES PLAY FROM EVER EYE ROOM.  RED IS GRAY; AND YELLOW BROOM.  AND U DICE HIDE WITCH IS WHOM, AND WID CHEST IS ALL OCEAN.  Turn the rodeo down so yule cunt slip.  AND SLIDE.  Sliding in or sliding out.  HAIR IT CRUMBS AGAIN.  Is it modal or is it fish?  ROD AS IRON BUT SWIFT AS FLOODSH.   (Is that flush coming in, or flush?  Is it vacuum hier or vacuum air?)  IS IT TRYING TO GILL US; OR IMP PALE US WITH ITS BLUED LINE.  A habit, I think.  Knock, knock: who's rare?  Blink on the inside.  Obe hen up ore eye willl harp and eye will puffer ang eye will blood your cleff hope.  Eye'll brun all of the wit scares on your tufted sin E sin sin.  CORK DUG LESS.  Magic same seem me.  AB ROGUE CAD AB ROGUE.  A morgue chick wan like a sin or man schtick.  PAPPA MEANT PADDY'S RAINDAY CAIN GUMMING DUE.  Schlipp Schlidde.  GOO IS GOOD.  Schlopp scholide and collide.  WID ALL THE BONERS INSIDE.   Blue flame.  WETTER WORLD.  Nine tea poor cent widder.  All of me motion sew sue sue me.  WHO WELDS THE ROD TO THE FOOL CAN FARMY.  Huge whoreself and ides.  HEWN OWN EVERY SING.  Debber and debber in doubt of maybbery you go, Nad.  SCREW B, DO B, DUDE.  Went the B went standing form bride.  PAGE TWO.  Stand by for nudes.  TURTLE IT DOWN LOWER, BRINKS, DUNEWED THE RHINEBRED DROUGHT WARPS AND WEBBLES.  Winterscored.  WINNOWENTITY.  Stern bow for nodes.  EAGLEY SCONED.  Stored dick.  THRESH THRESH: FLESH IN CREST.  Swotch odd for milch.  STONED BIDES FOR NUDGE.  MUD.  Slush.  WIDE MUTANTSIE.  Earth quirk.  HEARTH QUARK.  Faster faster, the old moan is slinking.  FISTER, FISTER, THE OLD MEAT IS SLURPING.  Jackhammeer quackmurmur.  BANKER JAKE IS NOW HOOPEN FOR DEPOSITS.  Silt like silk has kilt Hannah's ilk.  SUMPONE'S NUT BREATHING.  Dive, Dive!  FIRE ONE.  Swooooooosh!   RAIN SILENT; RUIN DEEP.  Nasty dew: The Taste of the MilkMan's  Warbling Door Fish.  BASS IS A MOIST TEARY FOR SOLVENT.  Howl older was Nancy went she poled down hair pantsies?  DREW ME A PIG SURE AND EYE WILL GIVE YOU A LINE.  Wid a hooker on it?  IF YOU FISH.  Howl cain I breed down here, Gilbert.  O, SLOVENLY.  O, SLOVENLY  Gal port breeds through her fiend.  Her shade owed, poor old Dee Obble.  OBBLE DAY, OBBLE DAY, SEINE OB NOR OBBLE DAY ONT OVERT.  To the god sight.  EYE'T DREAMY DAY'D OF THE DIE ALMOND: SANDY GO FAST; WORLDLY MAZE.  Recitovist larking bogglewords.  WHICH HATCHWAYS DOES TIM FLOW?  Tim Formagain?  or Time Fumeagain?  PAY YOUR RED SPECKS TO YOUR MAST STARS, COPPER NICKUS.  Mick Nick manic Nick; Pick Nick panic make.  PHONE.  HE THINGS ALL HE HASTE TO CAR ABOUT IS HALFING PHONE.  Heats a'deep -- wad do you occept?  OCCEPT OCCIDENT.  Far Eves and Nor Eves -- Eve uturuses her songs to red risk tribute all the whales.  EACH COON ID IS A DORM IN TOOT WEDGE A MOAN PODS SAYS IN DUE NUDE YONI VERSE.  Thought is wad the ruined is for.  MORE CHICK WANT.  KEEP IT HOARD AND SLEEP IT INN.  Kaching. Kaching.  MOAN OF MA TEACH HIPS ME TO KIPPER IT WHORED AND KIPPER IT INAGAIN.  Thought is wad the road is form.  The road of electricity at the end of your hopes.  ELECTRA, YOU MINED?  Donut axe quid stones.  Boned whore overt; and been debt int.  AND NOON MOTHS LAIT EAR, A SINGING SONG WILL PAIR IT FROM OUND.  Yore song.  YOUR FILTER.  Eur filcher.  NUDE WORLD.  Stand by for newts.  ARMOR OF COD, ARMOR OF COD, GLUED SHOT HIS GRITS UP THEE.  Sud stain ends grooming from the fodder's bought tea during the delioned years.  THAT ALLIANCE WENT OM DEAR THE WAIFS WHEN THE NEWT CAME ON IN LIBERIA.  Sex of cock; and the tome stunk drowned.  DOWNED DOPIER AND DOPIER.  Moss fit: his close all botched and sooned up on.  HIP PETE, WHO ONES WASHED HOPE PETE.  Hopi begums Whorpi.  WHORPI GOLD BRAKE.  Throw that bangarmeat down this halleberrryway, seal food plate.  SWIM.  WE ART ALL DARKMEAT DOOMED HAIRLESS.  A pot she coked; Susie Crow concockts un ant hillm.  OLD WE ARE SAITING, IST GIFT PISS A CHANTS.  Weeds shall over co-o-ome.  Weeds shall over co-o-ome.  Weeds shell overcramp us.  Gno-omes of fluid.  SPEAKING OF OVERCOMING: DID YOU SEED WAD A MOUSSE HE MAID OF HER SHES?  She can always do the wars in the morning, Sylvester Lang-Lang.  WAR ALL BLOCK DOWN HERE, MISTER FLUSHLIGHT FUDGE.  All the law it I have fish on the inside, my fried.  MOONER, MAY I?  During the Deity, the Light in on the Oddside.  And during the Naughty, the Laity is onwed the hint side.  DUE KINDERS OF LIGHT, DEN?  Midge and Nudge; Mike and Will.  DANE AND NULL.  DINE AND KNEEL.  Kneel, Armstrong: cost her a plate in the hole of fumes.  One stoop for monk's kind; lunge gigant's lieb for holy hogs, yoni versalists.  IS IT TRUE THAT THE ORTH IS THE GRIEGEST EQUIVALENT?  THAT UNDER'S OIL AND ONDERS OSSIEN ALL THE TROUBLED DOORS OF PEER AS STONE.  All adams villified in tone.  GIFT ME A BLONDE GIRL WISH UNT HOPENED CRUSH.  Manufacturing kinder and gentler gnomes.  YOU GAME DOWN END HERE TO FIRMED YOURSELF EUR SEE GREAT NAME.  Watt?  REBORETH.  He reborethed from himsellelf a reason with a dense city -- thor a pneum.  DOWN UNDER HERE, AFTER BEGROOMING A PRIME EVIL  SOUL YOU STATION, UBER IGNEOUS, HE SHALL RICE AND BEAK HEAVEN A NOM DAY PLUME.  Fiend Nix.  QUICK SHALL COAT ALL.  Mudder lubes the cross satyr.  She argues him up ank providences hyst shield.  MY SUN, THE EMPIRICIST.  Diet entity from the Moon Thor.  HE GIFTS BEARETH FORM HIMCELLS HYST OWN POOR GENIE.  HE RE-SOLVES IN DO HIS OWN PRIME EVIL COUPLETTE: ANDROGENIE.  AND THEN HE RIBS HIS OWN LAMPBLACK.  Song frump booty of hymns morterself he is brained.  RISING UP OUT OF CORPSE OF CORN.  Save your pennies; be at a tune.  SAVE YOUR PENIS; BE AT A TOAD'S REAWAKENING.  Muting the white charger.  CROSS AIDER.  The old pulp is falling; someone has bargained over an ulter boy and put a stiff canticle inside his bumender.  Aunt the conned gradation is boyling for blue aid.  GELD OUT THE RAPE AND HUNK THE POLE PIPE FROM THE NOREST TRAY.  Un Un Un.  INK TREBLE GATE.  Room is faulting; Rump is vaulting.  LIDS THAN WE EXPECTORATED.  All a boot us crimes the pedal rust.  WIG OUR GATE, WE CULLED NUT BE PRUDER.  GIFTS US YOUR SONGS AND WHEEL BUTTEND HIS BRUTER.  Marshing on shoals.  GAPE RIDE WIG ENDS.  Gattling thought old brunfire roddy, Tochter Sprockter.  THE PRIMATE DOVE SEWN SIGH EDDY HASTENS NODE PLATES FOREIGN THE CORN HALTING MOANS.  Dun here, I here tomb match.  GLEAM ODD YOUR ORES, FEELYGUMBO.  UTES THESE CUTE TIPS.  STORK THEM IN ANT WHIRL.  Not our dumb us.  Not our dump us.  BRINK IN THE BOLT OF WAR TEARS, JAUNE POLE.  Dim port the gotho lack rich in tool home of ha.  New brat shawl.  NOT SHORE DAMN US.  Donut led eye tail leans joint op width the robs of hysteria.  IS DALETH A BRAYER FRAME THE DIEP?  Andy Gravity.  DOPPLE GANG HEIR.  Gank of whore.  LUFF POWDER.  If it clumps in and it is made of mattle, you'd bet her duck: id's prop ably up ortion.  WAD?  Murmuring the chilled.  EYE DONUT YONDER STAND?  DONUT THEY LAUGH ME?  Due much, methanks.  They'll laugh you they won't luff you.  KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH HER SPONGE.  KILLING ME OFFLY WITH HER TONGS.  Doctor Pleasurepalace.  Ist thus mort her not an a plug of less?  Ist thass mud herr not a hollow caused?  WAD WILL EUR GOD SAY AB OUST THIS, WHEN OF GAIN YOU CAN HEIR HIS VOIDST OF GAIN?  I donut standunder your quote station.  IS GOOD GOING TO SMILE ON YOUR PRE TEXT WHEN THE WORLD FLIPS AGAIN AND YOU CAIN FRONT YOUR SHOW DOOR?  Our father whose art is heaven.  BIDDER WOMB ENDS DOWN HEREUNDER IN THE DARGIEST SHUTTLES.  Be glareful they don't cutstrate your cone heads.  L'IL ETHICAL TREATISE ON THE GOOMETHODDS OF THE CORNT.  Caper corns rise up in...aqua rinse.  AND THEN PISSES.  AND THEN HEIRESS.  The gud modern.  THE ONCE WHO PARSES HERD SUM IN THE AIR EASE.  Some won down hier to gill you.  BOOK OF GILLS.  Some wind dun hoar to bill you.  LEVI IS THIN.  Moops.  THERE IS NO MOOPS -- ITS MOORS.  Smores.  STINK A SUNK OF SEX PENS, SPROCKET PULL A POSS.  Catch her in the faw.  STAMP BUY FOR NOOTCH.  Dune tyou half a ladder to male?  The one in your poor kit?  Storking oud dove yer shore eat?  WITCH YOU DON'T NO CUNT HEAR AT YOU.  Am eye sleebing or am eye slobering?  RAIL DAY ODE.  MARBELLING IN DAY OTTER EAR.  Sump pupils doe an warrant you due wig up.  Be cause eur a boy id.  PART ONE.  Could this really be true? Suzanne Marie Olsson, a researcher from New York who is working in Sringagar, which is the summer capital of Kashmir, has been studying the Muslim shrine of Rozabal.  According to United Press International, she says she has found there the final resting place of the body of Jesus Christ. Other researchers, sources say, agree with her assessment especially since there is a long tradition that the Holy Family eventually lived in the land that is now Kashmir. In addition, she thinks she has located the tomb of Jesus' mother, Mary, at the Murree Hill station in Pakistan. Under the supervision of archaeologists, Olsson obtained a tissue sample from the Murree Hill tomb for DNA analysis and carbon dating. Now she wants to extract a tissue sample from the Rozabal tomb--to see if the remains have similar DNA. Olsson says this is the only way to prove who is buried in the shrine and end the debate.  "Now Rozabal holds the key," Olsson told the Greater Kashmir newspaper. "If the remains there are sent for testing and then tallied with the results of the Murree project, it will either establish the link between the two shrines as being of similar origin and thus authenticate the Marium-Jesus theory or prove it wrong for good." (Marium is another name for Mary.) Viewing such an intrusion as a desecration of the shrine that is the grave of Muslim saint Yuza Azaf, the Rozabal custodians are outraged by the request and adamantly insist they will never allow it to take place. Olsson has appealed to Kashmir's chief minister, Farooq Abdullah.  FOUR OAK OF DUAL OFF.  Stand by foreign newts.  USE A ACE OFF.  Seven and orth a soft ace off.  ONE ELEVEN.  Ates off.  KNOCKS OUR DOME OFF.  War does thought mean?  NOT SOUR DORM ASS.  The married tree ark he is naught, in follicle, a womb ate all; butt a parr of breathers who suspire with their morter to gill their own fatter, wholewhale, and dove fight him up as hole leaf yuga Christ at the lost super for thells soulvasion of the war ills.  JAUNE BROWN'S BODY LICE A MOLDERING IN THE GRAVE.  HEAT IS COR AVERRING OUT THE UMBER WEAR THE GRAVES OF ARABS ARE SCORED.  I cain knot feel my feat null longer.  OARIC ASS HID.  Gout ist gutt but gore lick ist gotter.  DAMN EARRING.  Sing king farther.  POOR TROW SIDE.  Gill the tired and gal the nuking quince.  MARTYR AND SONG TWO GET HER MOOD OVERT MIAMI.  Wad carn necks the heathen and the orbs, the farther and the nether?  PUN NEST.  Moor explicant aided.  THE PULLEST.  JOINT IN THE GROYNT.  A broader width a knave caught id off end corp uulation.  CARTING OFF THE THROWN ADD.  Kilting the fodder wank weddeth wank stale inert.  SLUICE ID OB.  Mama carped it whored und hat hurt stung sonic up and cold cut the frother.  WEED GED ELT.  Roman hissing dun hair.  RUMPLED OUT STILLED SKIN AND DREAM US UP ONES ORD WHITES.  HICCUP DUD GRAIN.  WASH IT HE THE WON WHO'D ROTE IT.  Mama said dared bedazed like this dared bedazed like this my murmur said.  PILLATELATE RIVER, THROW OUT NOB RASTA AND INTY DINTY TWEEN WHY OH WHY OH MING WAS DUST A LOVER.  Riverroan riverroan.  WETTER IN THE EAR.  Esther's aches are score tiered in the yurt: go ankh formed them.  BOLLOCK GENGKO'S ROMEOING IN THE NIGGHT, LIKE ROMMEL US WITH HIS BOILS NOMED TANKS.  Fear in de drakeness.  DUCK: ITS BLITZKREIGING IN HAIR AGAINST.  Menelaus or men of loss?  ROD OF IRON OR ROD OF ROUGE?  Ifn its a die ron rood youse gonna find your cells over dat hill overt yoonder, putter's field, where they're stagging all the bortion boys and curls.  PUTTER'S FIELD?  Yeah, where the gulfers plague.  You gotta dug hard so them bortion tolls gaynt read you down here.  Dig deeper!  Dig deeper!  DAMN NEAR DOWN TO CHINA RIDE NOW.  Morpheus down lower?  WATT?  Even more fears down luller.  WICKS FEARS?  You no the ones.  The ones where you'd the more dearer.  BOLLOCKS AND WIDE?  Sure.  Elsk never ever the whorl be warned.  VUGGE VUGGE, WHERE'S MINE LUGGE?  Pop, the more chick Draco, lidded by the C.  And fore licked in the art tomed midst in a lund galed Honor Leaves.  Littled Jackoff Favored ludded by red skull pump that barfed him stringcheese and ceiling wax and other more jack stuff.  OH.  DONUT LET ANYONE SEED YUDE DUDE DAT.  ID WILL GROW HEIRS ON PALM SUNDAY.  Dank deeper.  WE'LL HITLER THE OSSIAN BEVORE WE'LL HATE CHINA.  Red Rover, Red Rober, send Sin Deep on ober.  LARCEN.  Wud dar we: guppie la ganksters?  READ STOUND DOPIER AND EUR GONNA FEEL NOTS.  DONUT TURN EUR BAG ON THAT PRYEST OVER THAYER.  HE'S BEEN BUTTING HIS COB INTO CORNPONE FEELS OF DAME YOUNG ALTERED BOIDS THERE, IN THE SCARE SISTY, WENT ALL THE NONES WERE INT BRAYING.  Bending Red Rover on Over?  YEP.  Dat is a stain and a grime gegainst God, diss it nut?  DISS IS.  SEAL THE PULP OVER THERE BOWING LOADER AND LOADER.  I cunt seat anything rarely.  Id's so darg in gear.  THE PULP POLLY SIZING TO OLD THE CONNEDGREGATION THAT THEIR SONGS HAVE BEEN SUDSFINGERED BY OLD ERRISH COD HOPPERS DRAGGED IN CULLERS AND GARRYING ROSYFIXERS.  Malachi Malachi, hedonist nut lie.  THE DAPPIER WE DIG THE MERE SULTRIER WE BEGUM.  Saline Saline, salads served on high.  CREPEY MAMA, WHERE YOU BEEN SO LONG.  EYE WENT TO DWELL EVER BODY BUT EYE COULD NOT GET A CROSS.  DON'T THE SUN LUCK GOD GROANING DOWN UNDER THE SEA --- DONUT MEYE GAL LUCK VINE WHEN SHE'S GUMMING ALTER ME.  Womb adoring in the will dear less.  CAVE MAN, GRAVE MAN: TREE FRIERS GOING DOWN LABIAS TIDE TO WARN THE GULLERY TO SEA THE GRAVE PAININGS OF CLODSMAN IN MOMA'S CLANNED TESTINES, MAZING GREATS, LABOR RENT THING CIRCA LINKS UN DO CORE.  Enter the dorm lies of Balsho Snailshell from arears.  HEARD SONARTHING.  Beige too.  HUMANE SELFBUMMERS WALL LICKING IN TWO POLARS TIME SWORDY CENTERS BLOOMING UP BOIDS AND GIRDLES ON YOUR OLD SALEMS TREEDS IN THE NAPALM OF LIE BOW RATION.  Oz railing harm he manks the tanks reel down roods of war's banks moon knavers.  SWORDFISH GNASHERS OF THE SWORDFISH.  Sell fish nature of the shellfish.  DON'T MOLLUSK ME, DEAR MOUND SINGER.  John Lenihan, an Orange County priest who has admitted to molesting a minor and having multiple affairs, has agreed to ask Pope John Paul II to remove him from the priesthood, church officials announced Thursday.  Tod D. Brown, bishop of the Diocese of Orange, also said a special investigation launched last month into his priests' backgrounds had concluded this week with one pastor found to have a history of sexual abuse. That priest, Michael Pecharich, was removed earlier this month from his Rancho Santa Margarita parish.  Pecharich and Lenihan are among three Orange County priests to make headlines in recent months during the Roman Catholic Church's unfolding sex scandal. The Diocese of Orange paid $5.2million in August 2001 to a single victim to settle molestation accusations against Monsignor Michael Harris. As part of the settlement, the dioceses of Los Angeles and Orange were required to fire any priests with a history of child molestation. Lenihan had no comment, his attorney said Thursday.  ROLLED LEO.  Lionessence.  WHAT DO STARS MEANT, ANDY WEIGHT?  Stars means movies, one lie taint a time.  OVERLOBBING LIE TAINTENCIES.  Loony verse is cinema paradiso.  IS IT ROLLING, BOB LEO?  Construction workers digging into the site that will house the equestrian events at the 2004 Olympics in Athens, Greece have found a temple dedicated to the love goddess Aphrodite that some experts think may have also been a bordello. It is located in Marcopoulo, about nine miles southeast of central Athens. Work has now ceased on the equestrian venue while archaeologists dig in nearly 20 places to fully unearth the ancient brothel. This temple complex, which is some 2,500 years old and contains baths and massage rooms, is one of the few sites associated with Aphrodite. "It was not only a spiritual place, but also one of carnal pleasures," archaeologist Michalis Sklavos, who is taking part in the excavations, told the Associated Press. "The priestesses offered extra love to the visitors."  No wonder those Greeks always seem to have a smile on their feces.  TIDIS PAUL HARVEY.  STERN BUY FOR TUNES.  Marco Polo, ibid essay?  MARGO PULLS A FACEY, HE SAYS.  Fall open in tubes and yule shall say how gorm the germ is.  TO BOOT.  Darning, to boot, in the mudder's inner inktombonium.  IS THE GATE CLOSED NOW?  OR IS THE GRINCH FELLOW WITH HIS FRINCH FLUTE SKIN STILL BEATING ON THE DRUM FOR END TRY?  Go dopier; its safer, dorm here, cross station.  GO INK WHERE?  Wendering in somme wets land, like oar sailers beef ore odds.  WHEN TEND?  Never tend, till daunt tup.  PLAY JURIST, WILL THEE?  Not for soon, since lie 'tis dusk here still, snopier.  SHH, PISS PIG LEON DOER.  Add yeast turn yore bucket tomb me wank you led your wedders glide, gomer.  STREAM STREAMERY STREAM STREAMERY STREAM STREAM SHORE DREW.  Shh.  They will know we are down here.  See the blotter up there, width the candle in his hart.  LURKING DUN.  Brun, yule say.  Always blunt.  Wad abutt nun terrarians, nun hurdle airians?  Down here all we see is hardwood and hale brun, Most Senior Madoffours.  DID YOU BRING ALONG THE CUM PASS -- ORD THOSE EPIDEMIC TEMPLATES?  Liberia major and Liberia minor.  NO TRACING POD TURNS ON THE OLD LID OF THE COD FIN, NOW, BAHA.  DON'T LOOK TO MID STEAK THE SLIBBERY SKY FOR YOUR OWN NOSE, DRINKWATER.  SWIM IF YOU GAM.  SWIM.  DON"T PRETEND TO BE A DROUGHT WHEN YOU ARE EELY A SLOB STORE'S NESTORIAN.  How long can you hold your breast, Jauney White Smolder?  MARRONIC QUOID STATION, HERR CROTCHMAN.  Don't let him pud his peccaddillos where the stains don't sun.  TROPE ONEROUS.  Whole in the wreck.  DOZE SHE HALF A NAME?  Half a cherry and half a library.  HE DID THE MUNCH.  HE DID THE MONSTER MUNCH.  IT WAS ALL FUNCH.  HE WASHED A GRAVEYARD DUNCE.  HE DID THE MUNCH.  IT GOT ON IN A HUNCH.  HE DID THE MUNCH.  HE DID THE MOUND STORE MUCH.  Walling your stelb up in a shall.  A THOU SHALT NUT.  Wall in de carcase caves.  THE FELINING WALL IN DUSTS.  Be-bop-brot to you by eld shall living himcelt, in his cell, id is going to be a rarely big shoe, a rurally bog shoe.  HE HAS A KINDER LONG FADES (GORGING FROM MURMURY), THE KINDE THAT LOOVES LORBING THE TROUP OF ZOIDS IN THE HAIR FULLING DRAPERIES.  GENUINE 'NFLECTION.  GENUINE PLEUSTON.  Led all the crosshuns come in here; may cat rome for the crosshuns and their cat of combs width nein lives.  ARE WE IN THE MORTAR'S BELLY YET, BRO KELLY?  Seesaw and Joke Crab.  TWINT HOURS, EUR AND IDES.  Are we in the martyr's bally ho ringsome adieuses dame monody gas scenal.  DAINTY OWN, CON YOU MAKE IT COME?  Nod widowt some quopauper ration of herd's port.  YOU'RE TOUCING HERE NOW IN THE SACRED SEACASTLE.  Are those starts they've curved indo the lid of our queer fin?  MORE ASS GRAVES.  GIVE HIM A BROADSH.  We art drowned here to get her, the tooth breadths in the moano.  TWOOTH IN WIND.  Duds that minsch my cark is insword you?  OR MINED IN TWOO?  Are you the breeder or the mudder or bemay e'en the sidster; ankh am I the broader or the housebond?  We knowit that a whored rock ist bed weened oss.  But cramming from wear;  and careening in from widch angel?  WHEN WE STIRRUP MOODING HAPMAY THE MONDY MIGHT DISINVECT INDUE NORTHING.  Donut moby so vast; use should beef safeing your straights.  REST WHORRECTION OF THE STREAMER.  Kipper it horned, like a stone.  KA-CHING.  KA-TJURUNGA.  Rull upin the dies.  SNAKE EYES.  Oner and oner.  ONE STROKE, YOU'RE BOONED TO CROAK; TWO STREAKS, THEY'LL FIND EUR WEAK; THREE STRAKES, DON'T HURT YOUR BRAKES.  Oner; oner.  BEDWEDDER TO CURST YOUR STUNS IN DUE THE BARLEY OF A HOAR THAN TO GAST YOUR TEA CRUMPETS ON TWO THE GROINED WITH YOUR HORNED.  Owner onism.  SWINT.  Buttering up an ache shoal around the ache sewn.  JAUNE BISKE.  Yarlow bunny and the eatster poor road, climbing nidus, glooming nidily.  IN HEIR, THE OLD DIES AND THE NEW IS BROAD FORREST.  You are lust, man.  I CUNT SEE.  I CAN JEST FEEL IT IN THE DRABNEST.  Poker her with it, when you're Cain.  YOU SAKE TO MEET OF ME AN ODDLAW.  Crusher in the Rite.  HULL DAMP GRILL FIELD.  Get him a gunt to put his glock in.  MAMA'S LIDDLE BARBY LOVES SHORTENING SHORTENING AMMA'S LITTER BORBY LOOMS SHORTENING BED.  The eld mourn has souls in his cockleshell like that damned gatterling his bull hits in his robot fired merkanism.  FIRING ROUNDS OF SWARM OF TO ZOOERS LIKE NUGGING DOWN TEN DUCKS IN A DAME-SENT CARNALY.  Fire one!  OB SWERVED!  Fire toe!  CAKES A LICKING AND WEEPS ON STICKING!  Time that it is, Time that it is, Time that it is -- a rhyme of inner sense, a mime of conned fight tenses.  Long agree, it moist bay, eye has a pornograph.  Pro serve your mummeries.  Clatter all that's looft you.  BONED A KNEED.  CLATTER ON DORMED.  The widder is so deep now.  I wound her if I ever gut in doubt.  DONUT PULL IT OUR UNTIL YOU'VE SAID YOUR LAITEST PRAYER.  FOR A SOON.  Chaos chasm chaldea churlish.  DALKING IN DUNGS, DUNGEONNESS GRAB.  Aye.  Docking in duns.  MEMNOCH GUMS TO EATS YOUR SONS, CHUMS.  Aye, torking in tongs.  I KID A BENDED CONTAINER.  Before the zilla bells of zound layer was only dei silencio.  AYE, BE FOR THE ZULU BULLS OF SONG.  DAY ERR WASHED ONERLY DAYO'S LENSIO.  Fornicationer's Wake.  MULLING ROUGE.  War dish the harpiest galler?  AYLO, YEH.  Gore rect.  AIR OF FACT: HE SHALL BE STUMBLING IN THE NIGH, NETHER HEIR NO TAR, LUBED BY NO ONE YET STUMP HULL SURF FIFING TO MOLELY SURF FIFE, BED RAGGED CEASE HERE.  Bumbs lobbed on to bedlam him in the whore of his razing.  LINE DE BRIEFS UP AND HAVE THEM LOB ODD THEIR SALLIES.  SEE WITCH OF DAME AINT BEEN CLUBBERED WIDTH LOTTLE BEES JEWSESS.  I don't wonderstained your dorder.  THAT WOULD BE THE FRISK TIME.  Butt are you sag guesting?  ALL THE PREETS OVER THERE SUB RUINEDEAD BY THE PRESSED THERE MOIST HAVE THE PUBIC SURVEY THEIR GATS FOR LITTLE BOILS DNA.  Is this beclaiming a watch hunt?  THE DEBTH OF CHORUS SEA INANITY.  BERHOPES NEET SHOES WAS RIGIDT OFFT HER HALL.  Burgundy blidsh.  DON'T TRINK THE BLUED, MASHED HER GAIETY IN A STOCKING.  Decolor the bat's turd.  Make him get a reel job, like the worst of us.  NO MORE DIGGING THE SHY SON OF A GONE IN THE SAG RUSTY BED TIME THE CURSE, PRAYED ENDING HEATS A CURL.  Some claker gumming in to Saint Beater's garying a gun in due the sorcer rusty.  Z
OOM, IF YOU GAIN.  Lugging through chinks in mine own sail.  ROSIST BAT'S TURD.  Wed?  YOU MAMAST SAY CHINNERMAN, NOD CHINKS.  Eye wasn't gawking about froid, hued no.  I SAT CH-CH-CHINK NOT SHR-SHR-SHR-SHRINGK.  It was shr-shr-shr-shrinkage!  You no about shrinkage!  COMMON.  THORNK FOR YOUR'S ELF, MIDST HER BLOOD A PIN EUR LIB.  Poor ole wolf.  STEPPIN STEPPIN FED SHIT.  Warsh your ling wage, bollock man prayed tender.  There are wool men in the roost.  ENNY END TO THIS.  Eeny meeny minee Moe,   Getch a nocker by the node.  Squeeze it bit and mage it taught.  Eeny meany minus moan.  IS THERE AUNTY ENT TO THIS?  Geeb torching it until you find doubt.  DO YOU DRAKE ME FOR SUM GUYND OF GWEER, LURTLE DUCK?  Gweer or nut -- eur big inning to look a lark like grinneth pale drone in this pole light dosk.  WIT DOSS THAT MEAT?  Eye will zoon be husking you to leaf your lamp black at the door.  EYE DON"T GED IT.  Jest amuck shore that shahry excuse for an octor does nut slow up width you.  WIDGE ONE?  THE AFFLICTED ONE, GOT WELL HAUNTING?  Noan.  The little twiddler of a duncer whose shed be fined for halving a pneum lige that.  I SEAT.  OPOLOJESUS.  That klisser to the troth.  DANS OFFAL REEKER.  Jaunty Jolter olfers any want can joynt: free association.  STAND BY FOR NUDES.  No body nose hair my jaunny has gong.  Jewdy left the sane time.  STAND BY FOR.  Nose.  TOE MICKS.    WHEN WE SAY STAND BY FOR NUDES, WE REALLY MEAN IT.  Georgetown, Colorado — Mayor Koleen Brooks said she wasn't disappointed about being ousted after a contentious year in which she has been accused of everything from flashing her breasts at a bar to ordering a hit on a police officer.  "It probably just saved me 10 years on my life," ex-Mayor Brooks said after a landslide recall vote Tuesday.  Brooks, a former stripper accused of mishandling her job, was removed from office by a vote of 339 to 176 on Tuesday, or 66 percent to 34 percent. She said she accepted the results but will ask for a recount to ensure they were accurate.  She also said she might run for mayor or another town office again next year.  Brooks has been investigated for ordering a hit on a police officer and faces criminal charges for fabricating a story about being attacked. No charges were filed in connection with the alleged officer plot.  Brooks also was accused of baring her breasts in a bar last October, a charge she denies.  Town Clerk Phyllis Mehrer said the campaign was intense. "Frankly, it's gotten ugly," Ms. Mehrer said.  Ex-Mayor Brooks said she has no plans to go back to exotic dancing.  THIS IS PAUL HARVEY.  GOOOOOO-D DAY!  Shh.  Hell will go away.  Beak alm.  Flodt away in zoo armory of madder nurture.  Circle on a breasdt and draw some milch of lieb from the mama sawn hoot prod techs bebe finnish.  S'PRICK CAN SEE INK DISH, SEALS FULL PLAY.  Seal, Jose?  SEAL; OR BOOBY SEALS?  Swallow heart.  Cross by stills, gnash yon trooths.  MIMICK WHAT?  Cob bleds you.  ARGO STEMMA GOTH AGO.  In the ping pobby formally, hairy weed in hand.  SLIDE.  Making seeds to make colonels of trooth to planet as solderers.  CORN CUCKOLD.  Paup eye.  War ching Bick Red straddle in, up to his temples in drake to duck.  COCKLE TALKLE.  Cockle ramble.  STAND BY FOR JEWS.  Swidge.  SWISH.  Torn dub the volume if you witch to taste the wish's torte.  RASHING.  New York City --A Big Apple couple has been forced to flee their home because of death threats. This, after their son visited Yasser Arafat's compound in the West Bank — as part of a group showing solidarity with the Palestinians.  Adam Shapiro is a member of the group that visited the besieged Arafat.  Shapiro has come under fire from critics who compare him to the so-called American Taliban, John Walker Lindh.  Adam Shapiro shared breakfast with Arafat while the American was trapped in the Ramallah compound for 24 hours. Israeli troops let him leave Saturday evening.  He says he plans to return to the United States in May to marry his Palestinian fiancŽe.  His parents are apparently so under siege that they had to flee the city for a refuge with relatives in the suburbs.    PAGE TWO.  Paris, France.  The tensions in the Middle East provoke strong feelings — even in distant places.  At Orly Airport outside Paris this week, Palestinian and Israeli demonstrations turned violent. Peaceful protests spiraled into fistfights, as the latest sign that the mounting frustration in the Middle East has made its way to France.  Brandishing signs reading "Killer Sharon" and "Killer Arafat," the protesters symbolized the growing sense of unease in France, which has been home to a string of anti-Jewish attacks in recent days. Most of the attacks have been blamed on Arabs who immigrated to France.  Socialist Prime Minister Lionel Jospin appealed for calm Tuesday, calling for an end to the recent wave of anti-Semitism. In a radio interview, Jospin said, "Showing solidarity over the Middle East is one thing. But it is totally unacceptable that this leads to conflict between communities, that some blame Jews for what is happening there."  On Saturday morning, masked assailants smashed stolen cars into a synagogue in Lyon before setting them ablaze. A witness said a group of approximately 15 youths stormed the building. No one was injured in the incident, but the synagogue was destroyed.  Another synagogue, in the southern city of Marseille, was burned to the ground over the weekend. The same building was the target of another attack last October when assailants hurled a Molotov cocktail at it.  The Marseille attack occurred after police had completed a patrol of the synagogue, as part of tighter security measures recently employed around Jewish sites across the country.  Anti-Semitic assailants also attempted to burn down a pavilion at a Jewish cemetery in Strasbourg and fired at a Jewish butcher shop near Toulouse over the weekend.  Some Jewish leaders in France have compared the growing wave of anti-Semitism in France to the sentiment in Nazi Germany, and one went so far as to make reference to "Kristallnacht," the infamous night in 1938 when Jewish people, shops and businesses were attacked across Germany.  "The danger exists," said Eric Wahed, a Jewish student leader. "We have to open our eyes. And the government has to open its eyes about what's happening now in France."  France is home to about half a million Jews and millions of Muslims, and has been seen as the European country with the greatest potential for religious conflict.  GOOOOO-D DAY.  Drafting on a bark on to the big stream Oconee.  HUCK AND JIM-JAUNE TWO GET HER ON THE BOG MOODY.  THAT IS THISTORY OF LOAF.  BROAD.  Growing where?  DOPIER IN TO NIGHT AND THINK BUCK OOP AGAIN, WHEN THE BICK MOOG NET IS TORRIED BACK ON.  PULLING THE SULK BACK TO WORD THE SKY.  THE ACHE IN SITE OF THE ACHE SHIELD, SUNNY SIDE DAPPLED.  BREAK FAST ON A CURRIER OF IDES.  What is that bick light up Thor heavering overt the woves of the seed.  MOON A noon body coming, reforrested, clonesed off and all.  Remedied.  THE MONK WHO GOES TO SLIP A REBEL IN A MISFIT OF CLOSE WORKS UP AT ON A MOON IN A NEW SUEDE OF CLUES.  Re-bub-bub-bub-orn.  Width a new soot of skins from the molter.  VHOLE CAN.  Vo-lare, o-ho, contare, o-ho-ho-ho.  Let's fly way up to the clouds.  Away from the maddening crowds.  We can sing in the glow of a star that I know all we lovers enjoy peace of mind.  Let us leave in confusion and all disillusion behind.  Just like birds of a feather a rainbow together we'll find.  FELICE PIUN ALTO.  What?  Downtown the volume.  Down.  Down.  AND THE PLUMES OIL WENT HIGHER.  AND IT BURNS BURNS BURNS.  THE RING OF PRIOR.  THE RING OF PRIOR.  You and eye travel to the bede of a different dream.  Caint you toil bide the weight eye rune, overeat time shoemake ice for me.  LADDER AND LETTER ARE THE SAME THING.  Hire arty.  LATTER AND LET HER ARE NUT THE SAME THING.  Newtons and Nuttins; Mutants and muttons.  MET ONCE ON .  ON MOLE HAULING DRIVE.  You know wet: you aint never gonna begum a grade stinker.  I mean, I no you love to sink, you've been sinking all nile -- but id really aint in eur blood.  Eur no off reagan.  Hue aint get no lad dinner bloot in you.  You cunt danzen ether the goochy-goo or that phlegm inker or the cast of netters or d-d-d-dangle or the bass of dough blade or the ulcer or ethan the fan tangle.  Eur a moon width a key broad in eur bring, jodding down noodles and fraces and sarongs and more freces and your low lang gauge of non viduals lorders down heir in the dorm dorm C the dorpiest pert of the no rem dram before long gwidge came abort when the mick dook his bodiful dottir and boonded her overt in her neckliest close and end sorted hits muscle linear earthhity in dew his priviot plates san andreas and squeezed a sun into hair spark link flue and made hurt sqwheel and own may and e'en nun she ate width cunt sins of tweeth, kossing kin scents they wash, and the dewf mound grave weight to sonar tonets and modths grape weed to vow olds and rondo soonts and warts becroon to firm oud off mood stations of play sure and link wage wash nether fur awry since load washt rinsing in the skite as dune washt combing on in the rail up herancies of a coque, a roadster, crowding like a mink with a powderful organ schism to great the dei, a no world burnt from the drakeness of the dish membered night Kaye tots and the raised odds amply of hissed skysign to boiled the frames of shoe felt eye stations agun.  W-W-W-WARRIOR AND THE WET WOSH.  Worrier bored net from his memory's rushy rush bush.  CROSS AIDER BORN FROM OUD THE CROSSHAIRS OF THE MODDER'S MARSUPIAL ROSE.  Visceral before the visual.  YEDS.  BEAR JOY RATE AWFULLY.  Nel blu di pinto di blu.  FELICE DISTARE LASSU.  Load her here; and let her letter the link ladders, her chilled wrens, after the light corns up a grooming.  PLATEFUL MIND FOR THE OLD MOON AND FOR THE NEW MEND.  AND THEN THE LADDER, THE LEDDERS, THE LAW AND THE LURKING LADY, SYBIL I SAY SHUN.  Widges burtoned at the steiglitz odd gain, door of natal no ledge gorgeous ode keep.  E SOLE DANCORA DIL SU.  Una musica gocia sonjavo soltanto per me.  ERALOVE.  ERALOVE.  Pain.  Pain tang.  Pudden tang.  Pun.  POEMSTER POSTMINSTER.  Eyem popped tie the sillier man, eye lifts up the garbage can.  Eye lifts with nude gingrich, hets yeasting his spinach, eyem pulp die the tailor man.  IST HE DODD OR IST HE SLIPPERING?  Thomas Doddt dottering his own kilt; or dottering tomb us, touting his own a froiddance?  CUBE REEL CORN HAS GUN AND CONE.  THE PEAT SEATS ON ONCE HIDE; ON THE ORTHER THE GRIMMING MARCHER, SOGGY TERRIERUS.  Wad temp his sit?  I CUNT REGAL MY WATCH, NUT HAIR IN THE NEGITARDY LEIT.  Block parrity.  THE SUNG SKUNK BAG IN DOUGH A SEED.  It's nut a dought droubt arrownd whore; drum it, man, its a bottle dumped flowed wiff eye'f ever smelt won.  NO ONE'S GONNA SHAVE US NOW.  Node one is gonna shaffe us nod.  FROM RAGGEDNARROW ROCKS GUMPS UP THE FIRST SHALEY GROUNDSIGNS OF A LIEF.  The naked deaf blunt life.  ODD WETTER AND WITCH TIT GROEBE.  GRUEL.  O very lies under the ocean; o very lies under the sea.  All the berries lie under the ocean; so bring my o very to me, to me.  OPERA'S PLAIN SOME KINDER ANNE GEMINIMA WID HER BLOCKED BIG BREAD HOPENED UP TO FREED ALL GOD'S CHILLEN.  Talk talk.  NIBBLE NIBBLE.  Mammery nods bust.  LAG TEST INK TALLER RENDS.  Circle id anyway.  CIRCLE HER WAY GONES.  Gare full; ore ur gunna half to liebchen to my angel lou rhapsodic sonar  inert mad chick imp breast airy o prods stewed  tooth shone durned to boat orient greek furry goldmother of eagle arid tea and the lungs hovering mullah and all her doctates of debth and betting, pore whistes stained, gone science of the hormone rates.  ANY KINK BUTT LAT.  EVEN MOOR OF POLE HEAVY WID HIS GOD DAY THAN THE STAG GHETTO VICE OF GRAINED MUD MOSSES, SO HOLEY AND LAID SAID WIDTH THE RIDGID NESTS OF THE FORKED HYMN.  Obra dee, obra daa, lied goes un, yeah, oh low how the lied goes ong.  EYE SET OPAL DAY LA DAW.  Midnight at the old arses.  Scent your gamel to bed.  Width fifty curls to odd end you, they all send you.  LICK UP A LITTLE DUST.  Ahhsh.  AKELDAMA.  Judas and his gifty talents of solver bites a healed fate of mood on a treat wear he angst hates himself.  SMARMY DAY'S EVE -- HOPER'S ALL HOBBED OP ON THE FALLOW ENDING.  She dunk remurmur the kell eye of pea in dat old Utah Codex.  MORMERS COMING ON.   MORMERS AND MERMEN.  MOREMEN COMING DOWNED THE RIVER ROAD, GARYING THE CROSS AND SHUTTERING THE NAME OF JESUS AND HIS NUMBERED FOLLOWER.  Who bubbles be born?  THE SLIBBERY CAVE WILL NOT STAND.  Dubiouser and dubiouser.  SHELT LOBBED IN THE FUR PART OF HEAVEN.  Gunk of din.  Someone is your kin.  BLOOD.  Blood comes back.  BLOOD RESTS WHEN WATER RUNS DRAPED; BUT WHERE WATER HAS CLOONIED, THEN BLOOD COMES FROM SPLEEN AND HEART.  A killed amen.  AHMAD KILLED A MAN NAMED OMEN.  Jesu Christos, no many pot tray ate filigree spear ate a song tree.  JU DOU DIDST EXCORIATE.   Raise high the red lantern, harp tender.  YANKEE MOUTH.  Tork about the moodnight rambler.  He's so good looking that he looks like a man.  MUD STAIN SALLY.  I THINK YOU'D BETTER SLOW YOU MUD STAIN ON DOWN.  Felice distare lassu.  AM I ALONE HERE, THEN, IN THE GORED END?  HAS EVERYONE ELSE EITHER GONE TO SLOP OR TO BUTT TENDING.  I believe they've gone inside; it's much too cold out here for them to wait.  I'LL BET YOU MONEY THEY ARE ALSEEP.  Fifty paces of slivers?  NOT OX ACTLY.  They are just men, afterall.  AND WHAT AM I?  You are a leg end, remember?  A man who walks.  A foot set against a yard; a yard set against a mile.  WET IS MY MAIN NATURE?  You are a fish afterall.  A FID JET?  Solomon.  Yes, I did cut my baby in half.  IF THE FINNISH HAD A FIN, I'D 'LECT YOU TO SWARM IN THE LAST LEG.  Arm of Gideon?  SOMETHING LIKE THAT.  Red volition?  WELL, YES -- COME TO MUNCH IN IT.  You have fostered.  YOU'VE LOST A LOST OF GRAVITY WEIGHT.  Lost curvity engraved means the newt suite will rise.  SWEDE OREDICKSON, THE RUODGE.  THE MAN WITH FEED TO WARP THE GAVELLY WAY.  Don't break his shinebends.  YONDER SLUDGER WITH THIS PEAR WILL JABGE HIM.  Moon River antology.  BURY COMO.  Shh.  Grove dickers are here.  UNDER A BARNHOUSE STAR?  Grove dockers with Olsen Jay dun black face, duncing in new work and gape of rire, an event landing down.  SHH.  DIG DEPOT.  War door you whirried about; you are yoursoul a jelled son, coalskin.  They won't even be able to see you, in this darkling.dappling deceason of the mudnight.  MOON RIBBER, FLY ME TO THE NOON, I'm HARPY IN MY MOON CHAIR RAID.  Eve's event even eventually evanesced.  EFFERYONE.  Sturgeon sturgeon.  PUT ON A SHELL, FISH; TELL THE TAILER TO GIVE YOU SOME SWANK.  That night beefer swoppers were in the folds nor buy watching them sleep.  Then the angle of the lured stood ob here hemp.  The stirring of the lurid was a shindig around them -- and they became lightened.  Ant the dangle stayed width all, clyling: Do not be of rain.  Eye brinks to theel a god noose, thought wheel be a crate toy to all purples.  True dei an engraver haste been bored in the tune of the doved.  SOCCER LOGOS.  He is cursed, the Lurid.  And this is show you wheel no him: You will find a berby warped by places of clods, lying about a feeding box.  Then a flurry lush gruff of nagels crumbed down from New Haven and chained the first gael, prosing God and staining: Gift early to Hod of the shaven, and in girth bring peas among monks who police Gad.  Then the acute angles loved the slobbers and sailed barks into cloven; and the shoe pards stayed with onan others and sailed too: Led us too to Bedlam.  Two see this thing that harpened widge the Lord has judged memformed us.  DRUNKARD.  Under every poor man there is a name.  AND EYE AM MY NAME -- THAT'S MY CALL, EYE ME RIND YOU.  Reel due reel.  Yes.  An eye for an I and a touch for a touche.  SAIL ALONG SILBBERY MOON, SAIL A LONG LIGHT.  Reb flected light.  YES.  There is a summoner's place.  A summoner's place.  War id may reign or sturm; yid eye'm strafe and worm.  In eur arms; in eur marms.  PRISSY FAITH.  Tory dun of hue.  SUNDER DE, SUNDER DA, LIFE GOES ON - NON -  O O HOWL THE LIFE GOES ON.  Kaye Cross Theory.  THE DEVIL MOSTLY SPEAKS A LANGUAGE OF HIS ONW CALLED BELLYSYBABBLE WHICH HE MAKES UP HIMSELF AS HE GOES ALUNG.  Care for a moke, midster marble burrow?  YOU CAN BET HANNAH FUCKS, SAID ALBAN BERG TO HIS MUMMER'S HANDS.  Keep movin moving moving, though they're disapprovin; keep them dogies movin, rawhide.  Move em on, head em up, head em up, move em on, move em on, head em up, rawhide. Head em out, ride em in, ride em in, let em out, cut em out, ride em in, rawhide.  HAUL DEM DINGS THOUGHT EYE'S BEEN MISSIN, GOD'S VITTLES, LOVE AND KISSIN, HARD WADING AT THE ANG OF M'EYE RIDE.  Whirrled sitting zen?  POOR HOPS; MAYBE DEEPER.  Dnieper, your main.  BLOCKED C.  What here?  More what here?  MOPY DUCK CAN BLIND YOU WIDTH HIS BUD HIM SITE SO WIDE.  LEARN TO KEEP EUR YIPES CLOSED, MISTER PIPELESS MINSTER.  Chaos T(heary).  DOWN HAIR?  Yes.  Close to the ground.  Wend the fuit falls black down to the oarth -- borehellium, makenoiseium, coldseaam, strongteaM, buryhim, radioem -- the shield bracks oden and the loinder floodsh is leftwink oben und oxposed, lark a wound.  The duelicate mindthors who had lifed up in the oar under Gott's especialses and cat of pelted dun to the luller spear -- and the doll hecate wons are fiordzed to work to get her with the grim hymnals and the dune jurious boredom fidgets who despite the framer air risky cats hoove fillie now on hearthiear tombs.  JAUNE BROWN.  JAUNE BROWN.  German Brown.  German Brown.  BORE FALLEN ONCE.  Midge from Max has become -- Poor Midge.  ALL BUCK DUE THE ONE KARMAN ELEMENT.  K O S.  Four word and black word.  DEBT CAT BONEDANCE.  Paw doo doo.  (Moon in my shoe.)  YOU AREN'T WATERING SHOES -- CATNET YOU SEE?  Someone's torching synagogues in Marseille.  (To the shared-melody of Someone's In the Kitchen with Di-i-nah.)  STORMING ON THE OLD BAND, JOE.  Dun, dun.  CAN'T FISH NET YOU SEE.  Conned flesh knit you seed, Oil Burn Burke.  WAS A MARRIED OLD STONE, AND A MARRIED OLD STONE WAS HE.  Stroking in the odd tum midst 'tween the limbs of Hannah Lee.  HONERLY CONNERLY.  TELL ME WHERE YOU WANNERBE.   Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, witches' mummy, maw and gulf of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, liver of blaspheming Jew, gall of goat, and slips of yew silver'd in the moon's eclipse, nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, finger of birth-strangled babe ditch-deliver'd by a drab, make the gruel thick and slab: add thereto a tiger's chaudron, for the ingredients of our cauldron.  COLLAGE-BOY.  DON'T YOU START POLING THAT FRENCHPIPE UNLESS THERE'S A LAWN OR A SOD DOWN UNDER IT TO WATER IT, SONNY.  There's no need to fear -- Underdog is here!  SPEED OF LIGHTNING, ROAR OF THUNDER, FIGHTING ALL WHO ROB AND PLUNDER.  Rocky flailers.  WON WORLD STATION.  Kin aidians.  FORMERLY OF MAN.  Stand for carnage he gouled buffeting gates.  A TIGER IN THE WOODS, NO?  When criminals in this world appear and break the laws that they should fear and frighten all who see and hear the call goes up both far and near for.  DUNDER GOGG.  Yes.  BUD URE GOODING WEIGH A HEAD OF EUR SELF, NOMAN YET.  EUR STILL LYING HEAR IN THE SOIL A SLOPING TRYING TO BE QUIOD SO THAT THE BOG MEN CARRYING WET HARPOONS WAR NOT HERD YOU.  KEEP EUR I'S CLOTHED FOR A WHEEL.  LED THE STROM PADS OVERT EUR NONSENSE, BLADDER CLOUDS.  Munch munch.  TRUE BELL, TRUE BELL.  HOWL HOWL.  Book and thralled.  OSTRICH.  Trouble inker.  HOVER NATION.  Marsh graves.  BADDER BAD END.  Deeper doper, missed turd neeber nile.  DON'T TRICE YET.  Moody.  Holding breadth.  PADSHUN PUDGKIN.  Little horn bag.  MY LIE.  Aunt Money Moore.  SLOTTER'S DAUGHTER.  When God created the universe the serpent was already there.  CAVES LOST THEORY.  Vestal Seeking to Achieve Her Ideal Form.  GRAVEST MORTUS EST.  Jerksome pole axe.  Pollack was the first painter to achieve the representation of orgasm in his paintings -- all that proceeded Pollack was merely foreplay.  MICHAEL ANGELO TOUCHED A HAND.  Rembrandt touched a well-clad arm.  DRINKING CAME IN.  Mosaic played.  STRINGS.  Chalice turned.  STRING, STRING.  STRING, STRING.  STRING CHING BRING THINGS.  STRING CHING BRING THINGS, VALEDICTORY CONSTANCE.  A horn in common: toot in common.  TRIM-PET.  TRIM-PET.  Little Maury's rabble eye hear creep into the rome.  MOONLIGHT STURDY.  Strict, strict.  MIDNIGHT ROOM.  Drum drum drumming me.  VELAZ-KEZ.  Jerry cold opens the sweet woman's balute.  HAND SUM MORDANT HEAD.  A taste of honey, honey - a taste much sweeter than wine.  COROT CORBET.  CORBUS GAVOTTE.  Strings of shades; buttresses made.  FRIEND'S HORN; BASS OF GRACE.  Seize hand.  WIND GOES.  Wind slow, home terranian.  BLOCH BLOCH.  Yo yo maw art tigulates yo yo maw in a woid  HERON OF MOOSE BUSH.  Anna Cronism.  GO GAIN.  HAND ON BREASHT.  Go gain.  ZIBBER CRESHT.  Who storks it in then?  PIG HASSLE.  Let him roam, bull work of swords.  Stamp ACT.  MUDSCALING.  Puke castle.  MUSCLE KING.  Poke fossil.  WHO IS SHEEN?  WHAT AND WHY?  Puddle's apostle.  JIGSAWN PADLOCK.  Sweet Swife.  Sweek Sween.  Surkel Swat.  Sarkle Shave.  Stovel Shank.  Shorter Shaver.  Suffer Slower.  Surrsheesh Shoal.  SPAIN.  Pollack was the first painter to achieve the representation of orgasm in his paintings -- all that proceeded Pollack was merely foreplay.  HE STRINKS TO GETTER COCKED NOMENS OF ART TITS AND OLD HEIDELBERG HEITEL BOMB.  Hide tell bum?  HISTER MISTER AND HIS MARY BRANDCH OF CHRISTERS.  Christer knocked.  A POT WAS PULLED.  Stalling grade.  WAR BASKET.  They ink habit the same k-k-klay.  PERHAPS THE BARBARIANS WILL SHAVE US.  Hannah's barbarians.  TITLE BOMB.  All souls read deuced bach to the shame cauldron.  MUD SOUP AND MUD SHATTERSON.  The daysent and the naughty and the vile ended and the mock -- awl in the shame moltened pot.  ALL SHADES AGAIN.  Down in the mood, the seeds shall fide for deliver lance.  GOOD BLEDS REGAN MORGAN MAGGER.  Vowell can.  FRENCHPOPE.  Wear is he now, stunneding all nugget bfore the bellowing crude.  Sang Malachie of his own-own-own pedscription for the totter damned church of Ruim.  SOMEONE SAW OLD PUP JAUNE WORKING OUT THIS WEIGHT, SEAKING WIDTH USE AN AUDIO SENSE OF JUAN.  Donut led the muddled clods fail or foul.  They's only the ones keeping thee from the rolled balution.  DOVES HANNAH HALF SUM SITSTERS?  Michael Cain!  NOBODY, NOT EVEN THE RAIN, HAS SUCH SMALL HANDS.  And who is that Asian wife of his?  IT'S HIS DAUGHTER, HIS SISTER, HIS MOTHER!  It's Sinnertown, Jake.  WHAT?  If Jesus Christ came back today and saw what was being done in his name, he'd never stop throwing up.  WHEN?  You know, if they told me that I had a tumor, I was going to kill myself. The only thing that might've stopped me, might've, is my parents would be devastated. I would, I woulda' had to shoot them, also, first. And then, I have an aunt and an uncle, I would have, you know, it would have been a bloodbath.  HANNAHLEE, BACKTOBACK.  Erratic Santa sea.  MY HEAD IS A VAGINA, ALWAYS HAVING ITS OWN MONOLOGUE.  Stork something in, rob it to get her, jest like two stakes, fur it up and make it b-b-boil, and summit sum thing comes out.  MOST LIKELY A MUNSTER PUNSTER, I AM FEARING.  Acey Deucey: HANNAH.  And her sorcer tears.  DID YOU ROYALIZE THE NOM HANNAH RANG BACK DOOR ACTIONS AT ONES?  Dutch door auction.  O LIDDLE TOWN OF BEDLAM'S HEM HOW DESWEET WE-EE SEE THEE LIE.  Look a flare; a light above the mon-mon-monastery.  IS IT A STAR, A STEED, A ST-ST-ST-STEALTHY STIGMA?  A stigmatism?  WE CAN"T NO.  THAT'S THE POINT.  How many ponts of light?  I DON'T RE-MEM-MEM-MEMBER.  Is someone being born down here?  IS THAT, PERHAPS, THE BARNHOUSE STAR?  Mudnight; in cob re: corn's balliwick.  THIS IS HAUL PRIVY.  STAND BY FOR NODES.  Boston, Massachusetts.  Roman Catholic Cardinal Bernard Law says he will not step down as the leader of the Archdiocese of Boston, despite criticism of his handling of cases involving priests who molested children.  Law revealed his plans to priests in the archdiocese in a letter obtained by CNN and addressed to "My dear brother priests," in a letter obtained by CNN.  In the letter, Law acknowledges that the "unbelievable horror" has hurt the Catholic Church.  "As long as I am your archbishop," Law writes, "I am determined to provide the strongest leadership possible to this area.  I know that there are many who believe my resignation is part of the solution. It distresses me greatly to have become a lightning rod of division when mine should be a ministry of unity. My desire is to serve this archdiocese and the whole church with every fiber of my being. This i will continue to do as long as God gives me the opportunity."  Calls mounted this week for Law's resignation amid criticism that he knew of sexually abusive priests within the Archdiocese of Boston and did little, if anything, to keep them away from children.  Law, 70, is the senior figure among U.S. Catholic archbishops, having served as spiritual leader of Boston's large and influential Catholic community since 1984. He oversees 362 parishes serving 2.1 million members. He became a cardinal in 1985.  Documents released earlier this week showed that Law and other church officials were aware of numerous child sex abuse allegations against the Rev. Paul Shanley but, instead of defrocking him or removing him from ministry, simply moved him from parish to parish.  STAND BY.  Dun width the Law!  SO, THE GERM CRIES.  The germ?  THE GERM MEN, THOSE WHO SEE IT AS THEIR DUTY TO DESTROY THE BODY IN WHICH THEY ARE LIVING.  THE CANCER CELLS.  The revel two tone Aries?  OX ACT LAY.  Page Two.  From the: better look what's in the bottle category.  You had better be careful what you drink.  Bottled water is contiminated with human feces.  If you purchase bottled mineral water because you think it's good for you, listen to this before you take a swig. Nature News Service reports that a new study reveals that some brands--but definitely not all brands--are contaminated with human feces. The testing was done by Christian Beuret and his colleagues at the Cantonal Food Laboratory in Solothurn, Switzerland. They tested 29 different brands of bottled mineral water for possible contaminates and discovered that 11 of the brands contained signs of the "Norwalk-like Virus," which  is the cause of 90 percent of upset stomachs. The results were so surprising the Cantonal Food Laboratory scientists actually had the tests rerun by an independent lab. The results were identical.  The mineral water industry disputes the test results and the validity of the testing methods, insisting the contamination could have occurred during the test itself.   What else are they going to say?  Maybe some of the bottle washers aren't washing their hands after break.  POPPY.  Nude whirrled colt here.  GO DOPER.  My mother is one-quarter cajun.  REALLY?  MY DAD IS HALF DRUNK.  Ahh, hem and hawn.  Hewn and hemmed together like two lights in fantastic recovery.  Dawn and Dosk.  SEW, WITCH IS HE, JAUNE RIVER FORD, OR HIS BOTHER JINX?  That we cat knocked note.  OR JINX WAX BATH?  Octor or Octoroon?  DUN HERE, IN THE MUDLOCK, AN NEUTER POISE OF PEEPER.  We are flames, floodshlight fish, flames insight a varnished husk.  RATE HER, IF YOU CUN.  Maggie your cells in toot a candle.  LIKE THOSH?  YEAR ONANER, EYE'D LEAG TRUE INTER DEUCE ENTER EVIL DENSER SORCERIES OFF LADDER WISH PROLOF WINDS SENT FOR FUNERAL, DEI MUNG END QUIT STUN ISH GULLIED DUFFER CREAM SIN QUEST GEN!

 

Nigel:

 

Shaun is the force of light and law which brings order back to life after the darkness has overrun it.

    Shem is the darkness.  In the darkness lives many good things: art, poetry, honest/nakedness.  But also loneliness, poverty, infertility, decay, social chaos, alienation.

    Shaun is the force of light and life and fertility.  But he becomes (as the embodiment of HCE) a tyrant, a rigid order, which eventually needs to be overthrown.

    Shem is good in the beginning and bad in the end.  Shaun is good in the beginning and bad in the end.  Shaun's rule is spring to autumn.  Shem's rule is autumn to spring.

    Shem also becomes a tyrant in the end, insisting on death, sterility, disroder, criminality, addiction.

    Shaun is the law; Shem is lawlessness.  Shaun is rigid order; Shem is freedom.

    They are the same person, in fact, at different stages.  Shem rebels against his material brother (brother with a body) -- that is, against himself as an agent of autocracy.  Shaun rebels against his anti-material brother (brother without a body, or with a body composed of anti-matter) -- that is, against himself as an agent of discord.

    Nigel, you insist that Shem is good and you delineate all of Shaun's bad qualities.  You clearly identify with Shem.  Joyce did also.  But he didn't idealize Shem.  He also saw that Shem was a kind of devil who ruled over the darkness -- and that a society needed the spring and summer also. 

    To be whole, to be HCE, one needs to put the two brothers in his own nature together: to be a scientist and a poet; to be a business man and a philosopher; to be a lawyer/politician and a painter.  To be, in essence, a Renaissance Man.  The Dawn and the Dusk are blessed with Renaissance Men -- indeed, are the Renaissance Men.  The Summer is cursed with all light and no shadow: too much heat.  Too much pragmatism and materialsm.  Fatherhood.  The Winter is cursed with all darkness and no light: too much fozen water.  Too much  flaccid 'spirituality'.  Motherhood.

    Joyce didn't respect Yeats and his ilk because of their whiny insistence on darkness, on matriarchy, on non-body existence.

    Don't hate Shaun, Nigel.  He is also you, if you are to escape the Schizophrenia of being only one brother or the other, for ever split off from his other half.  Alienated, in the name of virtue.

    (Shaun is the egg shell protecting the egg, the soul, the seed husk protecting the life inside, after everything has sunk back to zero, to the winter earth, where the war begins and the Herods of the earth try to find the egg, the soul, and murder it.)

    Shaun is the daddy's boy.  Shem is the mama's boy.  Shem is Cain because the Father rejects the 'gift' that Shem brings to the Father.  Shem is jealous of Shaun because of this.  So he murders him.

    Shaun is the Sun God, bringing the fertility of the Sun to the world.  Shem is the Dark God who condemns Life and murders the Sun King (in the same way that Set murdered Osiris and Cain murdered Abel), imprisoning Shaun in the underworld during the Dark Age.

 

MJC

 

COARSEMASS TIDE.  Venery good.  YOU CAN SEED EVEN WIDOUBT GALOSHES.  Versions of the inert I.  DON"T EDE THE PINK EYE.  Red tide at night; sailor's delight.  Blue tide at morn, sailors be forewarned.  4 WARNED.  EGGS MARK THE SPOT.  Annex?  YEDS.  THE CROSS ROADS.  Egalatine dye of matter.  A NEUTER LADDER OF NOTS HERE BE WITH US.  Parton.  LOVE ALLY BREADSTS TO BEAST YOUR.  NEVER BEND A BUTTERY PAIR.  The buddon's abutt to bregg for shore.  EYE WISHBONE EYE HAD EYEBONES TO SEA.  You're too deeb down here.  There's no lies down here -- so no need for l'eyes.  WHO IS THIS NIGGEL BOTTS ANYWAY?  A nickel for your goths; a penny for your shoes.  SEW LEGIND HAS IT.  He is mister of the dead world.  Minidster of the equarrelitarian dog train.  SERB OR US -- IS THAT WAR SURE SAYING?  An otter down here.  A DEAD OTTER?  Dead letter otter.  RUINING WADER IN A SHRINKING BODE.  GOING YONDER BUT THEY'VE GOD YOU ARE GOAT.  BRUNNING DOWN.  Jaunny Mike is reading on the yardarm.  Whore story's timely - o o o.  WAD RIBBER IS HIT ANYWADE -- RADIO: NOT IN A BOAT, BUT IN EUR EAR.  A word is a theme.  Thoughtstream.  A syllable.  A sound.  THE DEVIL MOSTLY SPEAKS A LOON-LOON-LAGOONGUAGE OF HIS OWN CALLED BELLYSYBABBLE WITCH HE MAKES UP HUMSELFS AS HE GOATS ALONG ALONE.  Chasmmost Theory.  GUM-GUM-GUM NOW WITH BONERS OF PURTIFIRED TREETH NOW GUN.  Gum from Muddled English 'gome', from Elton English 'goma palate' aking to Elm Hide German 'guomo planate' and to GreenGreek 'chaos' or 'abyss'.  ABBESS UTA AT NEIDERMUNSTER IN REAGAN'S BURG.  Yes.  THE FISHER THATS AROUND SAID NEGS OF TOOTHS AND COVERTS THE HALF EOLAR PRATS OF THE MAY YAWS.  Form the Laitin 'cummi', from the Great 'kommi', from the Objigtian 'qmyt': ony of a namerous celluloidal pulley saccharide sob stance of a plant origin that are gell latinous when moist but hearaten on drieing and are zalts of cumplex orgiastic ox sides.  MUSCLE AGE.  O Leo Reason.  CUM RAISIN.  Something to eat for bark fest?   EQUAL LIP TEST?  Black cum.  WHAT?  A tupelo, nice, a slave, Atticus, of the austern Us with a pale and sot but taut wody.  A GAY SEAER SCENE OF GAL.  Block skinned.  SOMETHING TO CHEW?  A malt shake of swords.  SWALLOW ID AND ID WILL STAKE IN EUR APPEN DICKS.  Bark.  HECATE HECATE HECATE.  Sober us, if you cane, by night, dear daughter of stakes.  Die annus.  Die.  The bowl is empty nod.  WAD, BELOW.  An otter tassle of toe picks re-levant, storax from the mined of our creditsmann, halfing pooped a zit and halfing left blood and right sinskin near the button of the tripaper.  BENZOIN.  A syriac.  SPICK MORE CLORIDELY, POLICE.  A debit eur fearing?  IT AINT TIME TO BREAK CAMP JUST YET, JUAN.  EYE WILL CALL YOU LEVIATHAN WIND THE RIGHT TIME CUMS UP.  You said there was an otter.  AN OTTER HOUND, DID YOU SAY?  COMING FROM HE-GATES BREADTH TO DEFLUOR US?  A cease otter, or a thief otter porous hopes, a boot sex foolt lungs, jeeply brown bod with lute crayolation on the bach of heads, feating largely on shill fish.  DEAR BOTH, THEY'RE GROOMED TO ETH US?  Nein.  Only chewish seats otter in this eye lent, friend.  They will not a shellfish man de-vow her.  YOU WERE SATING -- A BOOT THE PUMP HILL, I MEAT.  An otter larder.  (Fluorishing it in the hair.)

 

Nigel:

 

The duality of equality and inequality will always be with us.

      Eve, Adam's wife, is the 'evener', the force for redistribution of wealth from the rich to the poor.  The fall is equaling mentality: everything is one.  But everything is equal only in death.  When the world wakes up from death or sleep, inequality returns: hierarchy. AND IT ALWAYS WILL.

      Nature is not equal.  The lion and the titmouse are not equal.  The lion can hunt down the antelope and eat fresh meat.  The titmouse eats what it can find.  Clearly, if they are to battle, the titmouse will lose to the lion every time.

      The pine tree and the fern are not equal in terms of the sun they receive, how high they can climb to escape the shadows which seek to limit their growth.

      Diversity implies inequality.  Freedom necessitates inequality.  If everyone is free to pursue his/her own goals, some will become rich and some will not.  Some will not wish to become rich.  Some will pursue other goals.  And inequality will result.

      Nature has built in a force for the equalization of wealth.  It's called recession, depression, death -- and as depression is a mental disease most associated with the female of the species it suggests that economic depression -- a death experience of the society -- is a symptom of the dark nature (the female aspect) having power in the society.

      The female force equalizes the world by bringing death and darkness to the world.  And then, through the resurrective powers of the moon, she also gives birth to the Sun God (Shawn) who will again bring Life, Wealth, Diffeerentiation, Hierarchy back tot he world.

      The White Light of the Sun contains within it the seven colors of the spectrum (and many more colors if we mix and further differentiate). The seven colors of the spectrum are, in fact, the hierarchy, the ladder, of nature -- that is, demonstrated non-equalness.

      Only in death is everything equal.  But death doesn't last forever. It transforms itself into Life again, just in time.

      I'm reminded of the Benjamin Franklin story of a man, a prophet of doom, who lived in Philadelphia, who counseled the townspeople against building houses, gardens, schools, the city.  A big storm is coming that will wipe all this away, he told the townspeople.  Sure enough, after thirty years of this warning, a storm did come sweeping through the city, knocking down all the buildings.  Franklin went up to the prophet and said: You were right.  Doom did sweep through the city.  But now that it has passed, you can also build a house for yourself.  And the prophet of doom said: You should not build a house because a storm is coming soon that will wipe out all the houses, the city, the schools and gardens.

      The man was afraid to come out of the darkness.  The darkness was the place he hid from the light.

 

MJC

 

WEDGE IS THE WAR IN HEAVEN THEN, DAMNED YELL?  THE ONE WHO SINKS THE YONIFFIED WORLD; OR HE WHO HYMNS THE  DUEL OF THE VEINED?  One is two gumming bark to won; the otter is own karming out in due dew.  KID YOU SAY THOT QUEERER?  One bee came two and made a long lek trek oud in due man infestation.  But then he drumbs back, poinding out to the Mister Hewn Eddy thot the woild bellows is nut unique in eve's fectation but instep is odd in perturbation.  SHAMAN SURFS WHEN THE WORRIELD IS IN ARTHUR; BUT HE IS CAT'S PAJAMAS WHEN THE CANDLE'S BOINKED OFF.  Icy.  ICE US.  SO WE WALNUT GROVE ANY ALTAR.  Shh, I luck this sonnet.  IT'S A BOOT YEW, IS TIT NOT?  Shh.  WAR DID AUL ARVEY O?  ohnny Mike is reading in the yard.  His story's timely, oh oh oh.  What river is it anyway, radio?  Not in a boat-- but, oh, it's in your ear.  Running water in a sinking boat.  Going under but they've got your goat.  Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound.  Burning down - can't you see that my hands are bound.  You pick your island in the sun.  Take your island off -- oh, he's got a gun.  Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound.  Burning down - can't you see that my hands are bound.  IS UNT THOT EUR THEME SONG, THEN?  FOR THIS BOG, I MEANT: MEND ON A TART'S RIB?  ADAM O'DEUMUS.  Redeem us O'Madame.  RUFUS RASTUS JOHNSON BROWN.   WHAT YOU GUNNA DUE WHEN THE RENT COMES ROUND.  WHAT YOU GUNNA DO?  WHAT YA GUNNA SAY?  WHAT YOU GUNNA DO COME JUDGMENT DAY?  Kaye, be a triste, won't you?  Cry for hour friend, Dunte, can't you?   WON THING I MEANT, AN OTTER ON SWERVED ME; I THOT I SHOULD SEA BEATRICE, AND SAW AN OLD MAN STEAD WHORE BITED LOOKED THE CHORUSIUS PEOPLE.  C- thats the way it begins.  H- is the next letter in.  I- you're in the middle of the word.  C- you've already heard.  K- now you're roundin' the bend.  E- you're nearin' the end.  N - near the home of the nun.  C-H-I-C-K-E-N.  That's the way you spell CHICKEN!   ROMULUS REMUS JOHNSON BROWN.  WHAT YOU GUNNA DO WHEN THE RENT COME ROUND.  WHAT YOU GUNNA SAY, HOW YOU GUNNA PAY, WHAT YOU GUNNA SAY WHEN HE JUMPS YOUR WALL? A government inquiry into violence in Aboriginal  communities in Australia gets underway in Perth today; and there's disturbing new information about the nationwide problem.  Despite numerous inquiries and millions of dollars spent addressing the issue, the latest evidence suggests that the situation remains horrific and that sexual abuse in particular is causing Aboriginal culture to implode. Recent research has found that Aboriginal women are nearly 50 times more likely to be subjected to family violence than other Australians and that more than three quarters of the women in the Aboriginal population have suffered sexual abuse.   A - IS FOR ANAL FORCEPTS.  B - IS FOR BEESTIALITY.  O - IS FOR ORAL CORPULATION.  R - IS FOR RURAL PARANOIMORNAL SPIRIT CONGESTS.  I - IS FOR IGNEOUS NURTURES.  G - IS FOR GONNORRHEAL POT STOOLS.  I - IS FOR INSIDEOUS CONSEXUAL TORT SURETIES OF KINDERS.  N - IS FOR NEOLITHIC AGGREGRESSIONS BY BLANK MORE CHICK.  E - IS FOR ENVY OF SOUL TAR VEILERS TARPED IN MORE DARNED TIMES.  Whit.  Are you lorning your abcded mindednets now?  Id's mush too airily for that, mon tempo tampopo.  Eur still just a scent in the cunt of eur mama's incensed steins.  You cunt even swim yet.  Do you think you're a trout in the firth of loin, mommy duke?  You're no dull fin; you gannett whail; you cun barefly shark eur lid tolled extinct remedies.  CAREFUL THEY DON'T SEA YOU.  BRING THEIR SPIT BULL OVER HERE.  Spit bull -- very good.  I'M AFRAID THAT EVERYTHING I SAY, YOU'RE GONNA COAT ME.  Haste everything just stomped?  I'M OF RAID SEW.  Even, even is a plate.  A plates where nodding.  Nodding ever happens.  VOULEZVOUSCOUCHEZAVECMOICESOIR.  VOULEZVOUSCOUCHEZAVECMOI.  Midster Big Stuff.  Who do you think you are.  Midster Biggerstaffer.  IS SOMEONE CHANGELING THE SHADOW?  Each the other coign of the slide.  WHAT?  A - is for Anarchy.  B - is for Bulemia.  C - is for Crossmann.  D - is for Dem Dry Bones.  E - is for Ezekiel cried.  WHADS EASY KEEL CRY?  The foot bone connected to the leg bone; the leg bone connected to the knee bone; the knee bone connected to the thigh bone; the thigh bone connected to the back bone; the back bone connected to the neck bone; the neck bone connected to the head bone; oh, hear the word of the Lord!  DEM BONES, DEM BONES.  Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun', dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk aroun'; dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk aroun'; Oh, hear the wor-wordd of the Lord.  SPEED OF LIGHTNING, ROAR OF THUNDER, FIGHTING ALL WHO ROB OR PLUNDER.  The ocean called: they're running out of shrimp.  LID'S CARRY MO CURLY SHRIMP DUN TO THE ROVERSIDE, BOBBIN RED RED RIBBON.  Wade about your shyster?  HERE.  NUN SUCH A THINK.  Whine knot?  ACE ACTUAL.  What?  AINT TACTUAL.  You have mud in your month.  I can barely hurl you, terribly.  NODE ORISON.  INNER SEXDINK THE EGG LIP TUCK.  Down hear all art won.  VOR TEX.  Bushy below, Tex yourself.  A SMALL MARSH OF TIT, SUE, IN THE RIGHT PHAEDRA FAN TICK HER ROSIAN OF HINDER INVETERATE BRATS THOROUGH WITCH IMP LOSES FORM THE CHINESE HAY TREES ALL NOTES BARK PAUSED ON TO THE WIND TRICKLES.  Egad -- do you hear wad you're saying?  You have the sonar of the bat and the skin lesions of the bat but the sympatico iamb of a bad tab.  Hunter.  HEART BEAT.  HEART BEAT.  Is that oz, or someone ulcer?  HEART BEAT. HEART - HEART BEAT.  Dust it liver worry you that yule decent again in dew this forge of fulcrum only to be burned again in do a poison natally you null languer wreck odd noise.  Nose longer Miguel the earthangel.  Ha ha!  EACH TIME OF THE FRIER YOU MATE BEE SOMETHING ARTHUR.   You look more like a frig by the mimet.  LABORING IN OBSCURITY.  IT MUST BE HARD.  Eyes like obscurity.  IT MUST BE HARD, LIVING IN OBSURDIDDY.  Yes shit right bag, and you'll ear a tail, a tail of a hateful trim.  STOP.  DO NOT DESI CRATE THE UN-DESI CRATABLE: OR NEZ YOU'LL BE SORRY AS A DURANTE WITH A BEE STING ON HIS HIS-HIS-HIS SHAUN OZ OLA.  Tale me bedder then.  NO SUGAR LEDGE, PLEASE.  STAND UP STRAIGHT.  BE A MOAN FOR A CHANCE.  Yes.  Do your bit, Mister Nuncaustic.  JUST SIT RIGHT BACK AND YOU'LL HEAR A TALE, A TALE OF A FATEFUL TRIP THAT STARTED FROM THIS TROPIC PORT ABOUT THIS TINY SHIP.  THE MATE WAS A MIGHTY SAILIN' MAN, THE SKIPPER, BRAVE AND SURE -- FIVE PASSENGERS SET SAIL THAT DAY ON A THREE-HOUR TOUR (A THREE HOURS TOUR). THE WEATHER STARTED GETTING ROUGH, THE TINY SHIP WAS TOSSED.  IF NOT FOR THE COURAGE OF THE FEARLESS CREW, THE MINNOW WOULD BE LOST (THE MINNOW WOULD BE LOST).  No hope no cast no rope no mast no merit in his smile.  Imp nut fur the corsage of the earless view the winnowed should be bossed.  THE SHIP SET GROUND ON THE SHORES OF THIS UNCHARTERD DESERT ISLE, WITH GILLIGAN, THE SKIPPER TOO, THE MILLIONAIRE AND HIS WIFE, THE MOVIE STAR, THE PROFESSOR AND MARY ANN, HERE ON.  Gorgon's lost eye.  (TROMBONE SLIDDING INTO PARALYSIS.)  Crotchless theory.  WED, MINNOW.  More ice, Graves.  DON"T YOU MEAN JEEVES, MISTER TRIPARTITE?  I donut nose if you hope net tone oddest, Noah -- but there is no down here there is no forge and no full can..  NO FULL CAN?  No.  A forger neats a fire but we have here before us only ruinwater and no bode for the toe of us.  THE WATER IS HERE TO WATCH THE SINNERS C-C-C-LEAN.  Water lava.  VENUSUVIAS, A WUMMER FROM THE DRAPE.  Ones by friar; then by witter.  THE FURRIER THIS TIME.  Jinx Bad Llewellyn.  NOT EVEN CROSSS.  Own of these digs you will fine a pratty like girgoil with llunch lovender culls stranding in a poker bought dreads width cuddle liddle lakes showering and booby stalks above blag and wide foxwords hulling a pinkontheinside threshing mirror width an other little goygrill on the insight larking out whoill sate undeniably the truth about the udder girl's votives, marking her blush and mother worts under her broth aboot culling the girdle in the moorer, washing her weather in due knot thing under a whorish sun, her eyefull in the hurt for menth, dianing and diancing for the sake of luck and muley and pressed tease and powder in the tiny community of smolt fish in a ferry tinting pound.  Butter rivals these, twone with a whide face and blocked hair and the other with a brackish face and the hair of a wheating summoner's days graint harvest.  Somme day.  Bud nod now, nod now during rodeo days.  WANTON ALIEN SPICKING LIKE A REAL NATURE OF THE BURNS MAN.  Noodle yuck sell sigh eddy.  LOFT IT OR LEVEL ID.  Shh.  Don't speak of it.  There will beat an nut when you wig em.  WINK THE RODEO GOES OF, ALL ARMING ME TO THE MARSHALL NATOR OF THE DAWNK.  Lidsee is won girl, net for you eye gores.  But there is a seacunt gill two, don't fogup.  Butt that is nut fur nowt.  Nowte there is less(see) than zero.  ANDY GROW FORTH?  Ant tie mantle.  WHICH WEIGHT?  Ask eye sis or her sinister never never never this.  STUMP WHERE ELSE.  Cranium crates crayfish waits.  THE JERKY STORE CULLED; AND THAIR RUNNING OUTTA DEW.  Verrrry bad man; verrrrry bad man.  WAD'S THIS: MORE PAPER.  FEELS LIKE.  Sounds like.  SMELLS LIKE.  Tuck yore nose.  A SYLLABLE?  Tork your rear.  A TURTLE OF A BOG?  Don't forget to save.   WHAT?  Rom pot.  WHAT?  Ram pat.  I DON"T HUNGER STAND.  Dram drunk.  DON"T MAKE ME MADD.  Pole out doubt.  IT'S LIKE CROTCHING A TOTEMIC BROWN ON DIRTY POND TRUST.  Nihilist Night General.  NOSE EEL LAND SMARMING ONTO THE WAVES BLAMING MAZURKA FOR ALL THE DAMNATION OF SOUNDINGS.  Whale thed, Mithter Old Pappa.  PULP GOES THE WAR SHELL.  Shine here.  Dog durker.  DURK DIGGLER.  Stiggler Miggler.  MAN DARING.  Canned tunas.  FOOL CUE.  Dig deeper, dig deeper; send magic all his leaper.  AN UDDER LARDER.  Open yore month and take a think.  NOD YET.  Auntie Mendel.  AUNTIE INDELIBLE EGG YOU SHELL.  Have I flattened out in the ocean then?  Do I have a boat?  DID YOU BILGE ONE, MID SHORE HULL?  Mary Jane make me belove makes me belove makes me belove.  DOES THE WEDDER CLEANSE US OF OUR STAINS THIN?  Deep onside I wedge all own thlllatalate they kid seems althattalate eye am jest plain old marry, marry.  BLIGE MADONNA.  THEN?  FORMDATION STONE?  Plead out that ladder from this cribbage pile.  IS IT TO NAGUAL AGAIN?  Boy stirr us words on the idol isms that canned him, the creditor of this order world, the one his fatter half boileded.  CARINGING A FIRE STICK.  Throttling to sad the hole damp whirrled utter on nagular nog stinktion.  NOD GOD ENOUGH.  NOD GOOD AND OUT.  Can you rede, candoli in your hat?  JEEZE -- CAN A REGATTA RIG UP SOILS?  Dew it zen.  WAR IS MY HUT?  YES.

 

Nigel:

 

I think most of us would agree that a world of equality would be best -- the problem is getting from the ideal in the mind to the perfection in nature.  The ideal in the mind never changes.  Nature moves.  When we seek to place a picture of perfection on the world, the result is inevitably murder and oppression.  The whole communism experience was this: the perfect world didn't come about.  Hell did.

    Christianity had a perfect picture.  Islam may have a perfect picture also (I'm not sure what kind of perfection it is exactly).  Hitler had a picture of heaven in his mind.

    But fitting the unchanging in to the changing (circling the square or squaring the circle) is fraught with dangers.  Look at all the recent religious communes that began in a shared communal idea and ended in crime, murder, self-destruction.

    There is equality in the world of spirits but not in the world of nature.  That is the crux of the problem.  The equality that is in nature is based on a very large view of rise and fall, day and night, karmadharma and harmalarmist.  Everything in Nature has seasons -- that is the round equality in nature.

    You don't have to save the world.  You say no one listens to you.  You don't have to save the world.  The world is much larger than you -- and much larger than us.  The world saves itself through life and death, change and notchange, destruction and self-creation.

    The historical process of day and night saves the world.  Understanding this is Wisdom.  Not understanding this is alienation -- and alienation is another word for mental illness.

    The problem with Finnegan's Wake is that its esoteric nature means that it will reach very few people.  Those it does reach are blessed by it.  But it is very elitist -- even though Joyce says he never wanted to be an elitist.  Anyone who chases knowledge and beauty out to its ultimate edge is an elitist -- or, at least, produces responses to this vision that are elitist (whatever they may be or claim to be as a personality in the world).  And saying it is elitist isn't a criticism.  Advanced mathmatics is elitist.  Art cinema is elitist.  Knowledge is elitist -- that is, it appeals to the few.  See, there is inequality even in this.  You can't avoid the inequality.

    You should learn from Finnegan's Wake that everything takes care of itself -- that's the Wisdom of the book.  Everything in its place.

    Your need to make the world perfect is a kind of schizophrenia.  You are cut off from the world.  Cut off by your ideas that the world needs saving.  Object/Subject.  You get trapped inside the box of your ideas of perfection, your alienation from the imperfect.  God has designed a much bigger box than you have.  But to get in to that box you have to die as an intellectual ego and worship the force larger than yourself.  You can remain the king of your own kingdom -- but it is a small box, getting smaller by the moment. 

    You have to accept the imperfection of the world, in yourself, to escape the isolation of your self-seen heroism.  Your hatred of the Shawn figure in FW indicates to me that you are not whole; you are hating 1/2 of your own nature, which you describe as shallow, greedy, aggressive, egotistical, dead....you use many words to describe what you see as the negative aspect of life.  The strange thing is: when you are Shawn, Shem seems like all the negative things.  And when you are Shem, Shawn seems like all the negative things.

    You are trapped in a hellish vision of the world going up in fire and all of life being destroyed.  Time running out.  The world doomed to extinction.  That is hell, is it not?  You need to be re-born; and the only way to be reborn is to become Shawn -- to strap on his shell and move in to the world of daylight.  When Shem is dead, you reincarnate in Shawn.  When Shawn in dead, you reincarnate in Shem.  This is the essence of immortality -- of having a body, and being able to live, in both worlds (the Day and the Night).

    The ground you are defending because you think it is holy ground only appears holy from your perspective.  From Shawn's perspective, in the universe, the ground you are protecting seems unholy indeed.  It is all a trick of perspective.  Both Shem and Shawn are right and wrong at the same time  Marry the two parts together -- and you become HCE, Everyman, the giant striding through the heavens. 

    To get to heaven (a larger sphere) you have to forgive your father for not being perfect (which is a form of forgiving yourself).  Your insistence that the world either listen to you or be set on fire by nuclear devices is another way of saying that the world your father created must be destroyed (because you are better than he is).

 

MJC

 

SPLINTERED!  RACKSHACKING OF A SHEMMERING PSYCHE.  Washn't he a bid rouge on the boyo?  SHOWERING HIM THE WAY TO THE NOX WORLD.  The Nog's World.  HEY, SUE, CREASED TOES.  HE SET: TO FIND THE FARTHER'S WORLD, YOUR HALF MUST COME THROUGH ME.  Salvatori sangre tory.  RE-GROUPING SOLES FOR THE MARITAL WORLD, FOR THE MARSHALLED WORLD, TO STUN GORED WHILE HE REDSTS.  Rose erecting sum.  AFTER MOODNIGHT, WEIRD GUNNA LED IT ALL HUNG OUD.  Clap a ton.  Show wee underappreciate his motet vogual steel.  BACH TO BOSENESS.  Duds he save oleonated solos by shortering their mentos and rebusing their natal impressarios?  EST MODUS IN REBUS.  Tock.  EXCEPTIO PROBAT REGULAM DE REBUS NON EXCEPTIS.  The occideption oristabledges the role as to thinks to be ox emptied.  FLATULATION.  Thor is a pooper marsher of thongs.  THE GOLDEN REEL SHALLOT SQUID ALM WAYS BE OB SERVED, STATICIAN.  Nob statician?  SWARM THING LIKE THAT.  Wooden a milano date so god now, sun?  A milano width a cod goop of coco, eye lend man?  DUCK.  DUCK AGAIN.  DRAKE.  DAMNED ULCER OF MA.  Shemalink shemalank, lorf goes on.  O.  HAMMERHEAD, HAMMERHEAD, WAR IS YER BED?  Swarm ink the C like a wide wheel.  MANTOPLASMATODEA.  Where?  ON THE SURE FACE OF THE MOON BAUBLE.  Is she hiding me 'neath her waves, Atta Lantis?  PRODDING MANTIS.  Madding Santas.  WIT WAS YOUR QUOTE STATION?  Is she hitting me 'neath her woven wages?  WHO?  Magna Mater.  STAR-BUILT MATER: DO-LO-RO-OSA.  Is that an off hermitage?  YES.  SHE HIDES YOU; AND THEN SHE THORSTS YOU UPOUD AT TEA OPPROBRIATE TEMPS.  Ob ow dive form the buddum of the old scion deep.  BLACK VAT SKY.  She is heir sum wear.  HAIR BLACK WATERGOAT GOVERNING THE SHY.  Ewe, as wake as a shape being courted by non slippers.  WEEK BOY ON SABBATH TOOTH.  Sabbath-touted line onion.  LION EDOM VOTE.  Doomography dun hair?  NUT ON YOUR LAP, ME BOY.  MON ARK KEY OOP DARE (PANTING JIBWARD).  WADING TO BE BRED.  Democrag being sobjected to tort shore by grimy puristers wigging for ridge men.  UP DARE?  Hiss.  GOOD FATHER.  GOOD SON RIZING TO GOOD VATER WICK HIS SHE HELD ON'T.  Hay sew gritso stones add the crucks of the wheel, stoning on his own stone, libting troped souls up threw his word thoroughing down, like a rib.  INVISIBLE VATER.  Opt aboob the hired wash.  A WRIST OF CASH.  Liening down with won ram free, harking the orders like whigtheology.  FIDGERMEN WE ART.  Salmo clarki smithi.  URSINUS.  FUDGERMEN FOR SOLE.  Lampreysturgeonbowfingareelherringanchovycarpsucker.  DONUT GUT SO PROSONAL.  Characinbullhead.  LABYRINTH CAT FLESH.  Snakehead.  PIKEPICKERAL.  Moonminow smelt perchcodkillifish.  NEEDLEDICKFISH.  Silverside sticleback.  PIPEFISH.  Sculpin.  TOMB BERATE BASS.  Sunfish.  BLACKBASS.  Jack Darter.  CICHLID.  Memrember: golden rood is not pollutically correct.  SOLEIDAED BROTHER.  Giclee percidae.  MORONIDAE.  Scallop calm oldster Queqog.  STOUT RAZOR.  Jacknife.  PONDEROUS ARK.  Angel Wing.  JINGLE SHELLS, JINGLE SHELLS, JINGLE ALL THE WEIGHT.  Addlantic mourn sheoul.  LIGHTNING WHELK.  A ONE AND A TWO.  Knobbed whelk channeled whelk.  WHORED SHOED CRIB.  INN THE CORMIER OVERT THOR.  Donut widge to be a blonde, Munster Titon: you May be rich but yule also be marsh catered's dung.  MAL AREA.  Raise eur skirt hoop high, ma'am.  W'ear looking for the heliotrope.  RUST BELT?  MID SURE GAIN.  Cross-talking suspicion.  FADEZERS ALL IN WINDERS LOCKING DOWN: PAIR OF KNOW YA AS SOON AS I TALK TO YA FALLERS.  Posed modernists.  Docking dext and dext and hooperdext and all that marma laud.  WHERE TOAST?  Boices.  TOMMY BOICES?  Am bubbly hearts.  DEER COMING IN DEW DA DAY CLEARING.  Hag tea on?  DIE AND ACCUMULATE DEMONIC GREEN FENCES.  Who is duing the doll king here?  WHEAT IS IN A FACE, CURSED TINA.  Hulling up the hand mere: she's Venus in bloom's greens, Manoa Lisa in a cloned e-tail.  She's a wall king doll king, wick of art; she's the gurgle who shaled my hart.  FAIRY KNIGHTS.  Puck you two, Moisture End Bedouin.  WITCH OF ODDS WHEEL BE BORED FOREST?  MIDSTER HE SAW; OR MODSTER HE COUGHED.  Witch is red; and watch is bauble blue?  TWAINS.  Sellsplits.  AHH.  YOU HAVE THE WHOREMORE OF YOUR MUMMER.  Breath rite.  BERBER MISSION.  Vices coming in clear.  LIGATURE.  Tempt soil year and shock fun.  OSSI FOR YUDE TO SLAY.  Harry it, mon.  Wink the worder comes up again and the worderer gush down: we will wads the green airy mate a ruin for the abudments.  BLANCHE DUN HERE.  Blank tons.  All a room dust.  ROME DAS -- ARE YOU CAUTERIZING THE SOX TIES, OGDEN.  No nautsching of teats, plause.  SEW, THIS IS WATER HOPPENED TO ATLAS AND HIS EYE LAND?  A gig ant width gills sore ended with max plankton lorying at the bed end of the C.  Worting for the loomed to rights and for the seeds to ovularapidate.  And dried langued to appear.  AND THE TORNGUE TO LEVEN TO FUMBLE HATE.  Hist that ewe with scales?  LIBRA DE, LIBRA DA, LIFE GOES ON-ON.  LA-LA HOW THE LIFE GOES ONT.  Is that some coral girl growing up through my armors?  LYING ON THE BAUD OF SOME ROVER BED, FLOWING OUT TO DA DEEP BLUE SEASON VITAL.  Comb eur heir, Maidy Roodster, beef or the spotlate, widge you yourself and eye art, rose scion be bledst, roasts up from the ossian in the eatstern quad runt of the skigh.  SIGNATOR OF DE SIGNEUR.  Day sane yore.  MEM BURY AND WHET?  Oily gator and shirk.  TWO BETTERS.  Set and unset.  Ossifire us and non oz of iris.  JOINED AT THE HOPS.  Hopi.  CARPET TENORS JOINT.  Bolting an arc.  RAG AND BROOM.  An eelclectic amp thought prod deducing laught by an orc wind a core rent pauses beethoven due ink and descent ole log treads store ended by gauss by gauze by gosh.  By gin's bark.  AMEN WHO WORKS IS SHNAMED.  Hopi.  AMEN WHO WORKS IS HONERED.  Ipoh.  JOINED AT THE HEAD UP.  Head us: ore we aboot to be a borned nyet?  WALLTER A BREAK?  Crone's kite.  UP WHERE?  Up oft, where the wetter of the skite meads the webber of the dirth.  CROONING DOWN LIKE A PUMICE HARDY ROODSTER.  Cra: Latinus inversus.  ROBBERS CRAY?  Invert air.  NOCKATIVE NOM BRUYERE.  God's vastness in a jaune de plume.  JEEZE.  Jeeze Gruyere.  AN ARC IS AN ARC OF COURSE OF COURSE, AND NO WINK CAN DOCK TO A NARC OF COURSE, UNLASS, OF COURSE, THE ARC, OR WORSE, IS THE FALLMOUSE MISTER RED.  Bed more than thallat.  THE GALLORE SPECK DRUM DRUMS ELITE FROM M PURSE APT ABLE ULTRA VIOLET LE DU, DUE BURBLE, DUE BLOOT, DUE GROIN, DUE HALO, DUE ORANGUTANGST, DUE INFRA RED-RE-RED SKELETON -- BUG TOE IMP OR CESSPOOL POOL.  WAR TIS RAIN BOWL?  Garrotte.  FRIENDS SEE LAW MULE.  Bed rug, meet the bed rug, hand a havvy havvy do time, a havvy do time, wheel half a dray old time.  MACHT SIE COLORS DO GREGATE NUDE COLLARS.  Redden bones.  Dawn sees henna, M Adame.  BONEDESS FOAMING FROM FRIDGE TO FOUL.  Wee wee -- cob ten of the gord.  A DIM MORMONRY.  Pop Eye, Pop!  WHERE IS THE DOG TEAR, STAR?  Wheel you nob a gate by nord rats den?  IF YOU CAN SEED THE BOLT OF HOVEN, THEN ETHER THE WADER IS RISING OR THE WADDER IS CLAMMING UP.  Wonder orther.  OVERY BELT OF CROWN WAS CORVERED.  DOWNED BELOW THE CRABBIT WAS CRUMBED.  VARIED JADATION PREBARED IN THE NORCERY.  THE FIRE BEGAN TO BUILD LUND.  BUM BRING OOP, OUVER TIME, HOLE CUNT IN NETS AND MOON TAINTS, PUSSING UP OUD OF THE WOMBING DEEP.  FULL CAN BILLS THE PLAN IT WITH FIRE.  FOR THIR DRYE LANGUED HADS TO BE BULL DID OAT OF THE SEED BE THOR THE HOMINIDORDINALS CULLED BE FALLOWING THE PLANETS OW DUNDIN TWO THE HEIR.  Ovul locutionary zenario.  BOLDENED OUT OF ALL CANE HULL.  Crawl out, crawl out, wear ever you are.  SHALE AND NOSE SHALE.  No languer any viduals.  TOWN HERE WHERE DARE IS NO YEN LOFT.  BUT THE MOON LOT.  Scrapio, soggy terrius, cob reckon, aquegregious, posers.  UNDERVATER VINES.  Poisers, aquaregious, cop reagan, sage ulterius, score pale.  UNDERFATTER DOCK TRIUNES.  Egg scatology throod the mams.  A MOOD THE RUNES.  Prummis, prummis.  Say it twice.  Make it nice.  SOIL, SOIL, MUNDAFRACTURING TOIL.  Kill a whale; bump bee.  SANGKT HELL AND BUCK.  AND PEARL.  BUCK AND PEARL.  Up and maws.  MULLAH.  Something to take you home w-w-wealth.  OLDSTER.  OLDSTER BAY.  Le Pen is muddier than this word: gravened sord.  FRANCE SHOT TONE.  Sbara subsaharan idyllandemnity.  FLAMES BLOKK.  Zero Nevsky.  Pauvre Hulvey.  Stern bide forum noise.  SO KWIET DUNE HERD.  Unherd.  MOON RISING.  Blued moon.  MUNSTEUR.  Red Fray Goin.  UP ON THE SURE FACE.  Far from hear.  SHE BRUBECKS YOU.  UNSHURED THE WIVES.  Rumble rumble roil and stubble.  FURBEARING MANUALBLE, WITH TUSKS.  Oh, not again!  I AM THE WILLED RUST; I AM THE WILLED RUST.  Pole is the walled wrist.  POPE JEUNE, OFTEN EUR HEART.  IT IS NO LINGER OCCIPITAL, ATLAS, FOR CATHARTIC BEASTS TO STRICT EXUBERANCES OF THEIR CLOIGNS IN DEW DETRITUSES OF YEARNG BOYS WENT THEY GO BOONDING OVERT TO REBUFF ALBS OR CUSSOCKS OR JOGGIES BEFIRE FROST TRADED HOMOSUCKTUALS HIDING IN THE CHORUCH FOR FOUR OF BING FLOUNDERED.  Cover the two hull, gendallmen, livery time you genuflockt.  THREAD WATER, MISTER C -- AND JEST PROTRUDE YOU ARE A WELL OR A STORK.  Midnesters down here, big and couvered with orvery dentations.  ANDY DENT EAT.  Whirlpulls of tulip vision rending throat yer, Ed.  MOISTED ED.  A forest is a forest of course of course.  ANY DOWN HER?  Anywhat?  FIRSTS.  Ids this water or air I am breeding?  IN A BOOTY, IN A WUMPUM.  Plenxty wedder here two.  WAD SHED ME GARB YOUR HEEL, ME BROY.  Twinks, for the sage of horror story -- fried.  Young and brun, growing ever to getter.  Jaune and brun.  Junk and freight.  MINE IVES HAVE SKEIN THE LORY OF THE CAMPING OF THE LURID.   Drapes of redth; crepes of wreath.  YOU WERE ONTO SUMP THINK A TIME OR TOE AGO, BY FEAR YOU LOTS YOU GRINNECTION.  Molten vala.  YES.  Molten vaal.  VAAL HOLLOW.  My grog, Grindel.  Oz thor a show list down here, a gray owl?  MICK GULL.  Shown holds the candlobra now; the libra shales in his huns.  Shoen is all ways the blue lance; Shemp is all ways the unfooled hat, the un blue lanced shuffler, foist on ride and sequined on loft.  PAD BEND OF TAR.  Chip off of old brook darning to tuck.  GODEL BLEDS THE CONAN BETTERS.  The Mound That Wash'nt There.  WENT EWE MATE EUR HOBBLE SIT EWE SHELL BE ASH AIMED BY THUD EVIL AURAMENT AND EWES HELL FAIL IN DUE THE WHIG END STATE.  Father father marble spicks: war is the light; ware is the dewmont point in this ladster sound, Puget?  PAGEANT OF HORRICULAR END CHIEF MET.  Blick, blick.  SOUND OF WORMING'S VOICES.  The slit, the slit: shrew me the slit.  ARE YOU ROARDAY TO COME UP?  Shaming with the dull fins.  ACHE HORN: HAVING FUELING BARK DUN TO THE WORDERCREST.  BORIED BY MOOD AND PRESSED A DIGIT TAINTED ON HER GROUND.  THOR IS NO TREE NOW.  TREY IS GONE; ECHODHORN IS BUCK IN A SHELL.  Einhorn.  Trump pit bing blued by the void cess of light.  SO WHICH ARE EWE?  ARE YOU THE WIDE, THEN, OR THE YOKE, MASTER EGG HEART?  Jordan drove Bruno: brown buddy, brown betty.  SHELL, WHEAT, YOLK.  TRI PORTS.  Triportentum.  TRIN DADDY.  Sag less.  OSS HEXUAL.  Bites actual.  GOGGLES.  Worm the warmulets of your hards.  WEED DUNE NUT SPRAY CLUB OUT SUM ADD TONIC POOR TACKLES AS HEAVING COOLER.  No reignbull down in gay dust, Graymust.  CHAOS NOSE NOT SCARLET, YOU SAY.  Red bull terre.  SAVEN.  AND THEN THE NUT THING.  We we R now?  NUT.  Whose is Nhut, again?  WILL THIS QUEST, JUNG, BE ON THE TESTIS?  Flashlight scorch.  VOTE ONS.  Brackets of laught.  Height.  AB ZORBA'ED, BLOCK NIDUS.  SCORDERED, WIDE EIGHT.  Eve's Wotan hags sits sown erigena -- hands, id's own free quinsey.  The freak antsy rains of the electra magnet eddic spook tram witch is voicable to the humane eye -- watch we gall cull her -- is a ferry smell rage ion end of the end ire reigns of feet on endure cheese wheels have hop swerved in nay dure.  BEDDER TO BE A YIDS MOON OR A NAY SLAYER?  Bet her a shemshawn or a shownshilim?  DEEPENS ON EUR VOCAL ABELIA AIRY.  Vogue abila heiry.  YEDS -- LEERNING TO SPIGOT, BLIND BOY FALLER.  Rambleus and reapus.  ROMULOST AND REBUS.  She roof offalling two theaters tooths a luck on.  SARK, SHARK.  Die Fluid, Waveiswater.  ROB BIRD FLOOD, STARLINK.  Curt sie fluod.  MAR-MAR-MAR ME-ME-BORACH.  MARBLE, MEUBLE.  MARY MARY MARY STOOLED BED 'NEATH THE GARULLING CRUDE SEA FACTS.  Ass terre risk.  K-K-KWIDE CUNT RARE, HEY?  Moon married.  Moon mared.  HE WHO CUNT ROLLS THE RODEO WRULES THE REEL, DAYO.  The libbed wink deadstroys the world by war tears; the ribbed wank debstrueds the wheeled by fur.  WOMBINK CRY; MANMERRIES BURN.  Three Mary's -- three waters?  WEIRD HAS MY HET GUN?  Nevermore.  Nevermore.  POOR EAR.  Drumming of Chrystal Gale.  WAD A MOUTHFALL.  Is this hummus or a love of plinth?  WHICHTIT EVER 'TIS, WE ARE LASHED, LAST, LAWST.  And getting gold too.  ARE WE LOOSING OUR RUBBER GOAT, TOO?  GAPTAIN MIDNIGHT.  Phish head.  KNOTTY PROG-ROCK IN CULTI.  A roping stone grottos no mush.  ARKY TEUTONICALLY SPIEGLING.  Panty ghost.  7 UP.  7 DOWN.  Tones of flame.  WHOLE LAY GHOST.  The ordth was, at the time, a nagg of worder only, width r-r-rag nor rock weigh down bellows.  TREE PARTS: SHELL, WIDE MEAT, YORK: JAUNE MEAD.  Stationary, you mead?  Yarlow papier?  MAGRITE, MATISE, MATRIORGY.  Polly Nausea?  SILT.  Howl kild Cursed Man conshudder hymnself a rural cranedidate for head mosiah -- went he dawn deviant half his own dark show?  Thought is a sign of sumpsing, don't ya drink?  GILL PATTERN, SOME THINK LIKE THAT, BREATHLESS MOOND.  Soggy button boys.  HEIR SPROCKETS COMBING UP IN BOBBLES.  Ache.  Ache man.  Hey, Dolph: hike, man.  MOON IN A GLOSS BOREDOM BIRTH.  'aunting image.  HAUNTING HYMN AGE.  Him age.  PLOT?  WORD DID THE PLOT GO?  Nod dunder worder.  AT LAND TEA ON.  Good boys of belief.  HOW HIDE DOVES THE WHITER GO?  Howl mush diddle the polar cops mute?    EGG ARE US.  What?  TICK ARE US.  Dos covering phish joust now?  ILK ARE US.  Molting like beads' wax.  FALLOPYING DUN DO MADRAMATRI.  Triplets: Thorsis and Andy Thorsis and Sinning Thorsis.  SISSYFISHT; ONTOSASSYFRIDGED; AND SINCSUSIEFRESHT.  Hun plus do eagles tree.  Tree being pard man and pard verb all.  The verb all on the ink side; the mank's bark being on the ant side.  THE MAN ROILING THE ROCKNORROCK OB THE HELL IS, AT ONES, THE MANDIBLE, THE ROCKSHAW AND THE HILL UB WITCH HE IS STROADING.  TREE IN LUNE.  Murked by (1) love of pussy session; (2) love to con queers; and (3) love of the new ledge.  CALM BUSTION.  Leah Cim.  And Nal Aoh.  LIGHT GLIMMER.  AND CHRISTMAS OWL.  No L-L, No-o L.  IS SOMEONE WRONGING A BELL, THEN, CREASE MUSH TIDE?  Loving with eurself in shy lense.   GOD, MODREAMONEY AND GRIEVE.  JJ the jugular says gull leapt on dull livery.  Say Owed Deed.  Of the age of the cods: constancy, omen and danger.  Of the age of the he or the hrogn roes: courage, onus and duty.  And of the age of the mennows: counsel, obit and destiny.  COD, COD, SOGGY BEDIM FRIG.  Book drought.  YOU HAVE NO I'S.  WHAT HALF YOU NEED OF BROOKS THEN?  (Braachii Breugel.)  JAY JAY THE GEORGELER STAIDS: CORMER ORMER DORMLER, I'M A COD MEAL OF ONE.  Kramer's calm Carmelite markamelion.  CARMA ON DEALOVERY.  Gulp, gulp.  DARK SHOW!  HE'S DORKING DARK SHOW!  LICHEN UPROAR OR HER OLDO OR MAPLY ARSE IN A ROW OR MOUND TELL.  Can you bild a bode then?  BUILD THEN OFFS FLEW GAIN BOOT?  NEIN?  THESE HANDS OF CAPS ARE NUT SUM CORPSE RENTERS HAUNCH.  No argument wheel due.  We conatus flowed widthout Wotan's beaut, Noarch.  KNOW THEE, ARGOS.  Be cureful, or eye will beak edo song: Moon Overt My-My-Sinai, Mehta constricting.  At him.  IS THOUGHT A FLEUR DUN THERE?  Up there, you mean?  Y IS IT, FUHRER ME, DON'T; AND FURRIER YOUR CELT, YOUR NETHERN CELT, IT, ONSTEM, IS HOPE?  Contrabass; and contraterrnor.  OCTAVIUS COLORATURA.  Cuntralto, as old ways.  PLOD IS A GRAVE HOUSE, BUY THE WAY.  If the plod of a novel is lust, then wit is connachted by the world's meeting secondus?     P-P-POLE PLOT SHELLED NUT LICK SALT BACK LIKE HIS WIPE DUD.  Sodomy and gonnorrhea; the party boys sir ruinding the goat man's hearse.  DOWN FROM THE HELL SHEILA LARKED BARK, BEING TOURNED INTO SHAWN.  A saltlick stonedick set on a hill, you mean?  IF THE PLOD OF A NOVEL IS LOST, THEN WHAT OR WHEN SHOULD THE WEARIED READER CALL OUT, EXCLAIMING A KNOT?   Word warrior -- what else ccan you give me?  THE FORREST PLANT.  What?  THE FIRSHEST PLANT, CREAMING UP IN CLEAR PONDS AFTER ACID AND FULLCAN NASH SOOTLED INTO SUIT.  BEDIMMED.  Aeropagitica.  WHICH?  Archaefructus sinecis.  LOW TOSS, LE BLANC.  Wedder Lully Flood.  TUNE YOURCELL DOVERENTLY -- AND YOU SHULL HEAR NIGHDRAMA.  Naiad trauma?  BURRHAPS, NET SIEVE.  Wed id you cull me, Mall Hawk?  ELYSIAN PEN INSULAR.  Pen and s-s-s-word, to be shore.  Gutting closed to the end, Fidge Tull?  JETHRO'S STOOL?  IS IT YOU, THEN, COME TO CARE FOR JETHRO'S FLASK?  Sin, I assume by your cask iron, is a Scottish embodiment of age too old.  CLUBBING DOWN FROM A FULL MOON GARYING STONES.  God, man, tank a breadth of this: is this a salt on sea or the reel thing, a dead seal stroll?  CLOSE YOUR NOSE DRILLS.  YOU FLODE LIKE A PRANK ON A PLANET DAIRY WORDERWAY.  LIKE A FLOTA OF THE MINE, OVER HIGH C'S AND OVER LOW SEE'S.  Robber tea pressed on.  FLAT OR SHARP, SCRUGGS OR SCRAGGLIER MAGPIES LOOMING.  Boomeringstroms.  UP THERE; NUT DUNE HAIR.  We are groaning, man.  NO THOUGHT IS HER.  Who?  THE TREED CHAIR OUF OF THE LADDERS.  Rivers of blue damp; triogles of furry Crete sores charming up.  AMULETTA.  SUCH A NIECE NUGGET NEQUE TWO DWITCH I SOLD A PLEA JUDGED STONE: SOB CITY ANNE.  Ma corral.  Down below her tope hay.  Willed whoresirs coming doubt.  SUMERIAN'S DAY.  Sumptuous as a hammer.  ARE YOU IN EUR OWN BED; OR IN SOME ROVERBOAT?  Pole the blank cods up.  Id is sorting to gut clod.  HURTING NORTH, ARK YOU?  My tete is a roven, a Blake Bird -- went eye stend it doubt, did dote corm buck.  HAVE PITY ON CLITTI.  Circe of the Nile.  FLOW DING.  On his male's plankton cost cut.  FLU DING OWED AND FLU DING DIN.  Eye M gonna hit the halo.  HUH!  A FUNNY THING TO SLAY, FOR A MOON HIDING IN A BOOKS OF WOOD, FLOODING ON A WHITERWAVE ON TO THE C.  Are those hormone copses bloating there, baldur and baldur, a cross a cross the glassing Ganges?  IF THIS IS TRIVER; THEN THE TOZONE MUSH BE TRECEDING.  Goink down.  COMING UP?  See you any monumounts beyond?  MOUND DENTS DOWN BELOW WED US SPEWTING FIRE AND BLUDGEONED BELLOWS.  A nun upsidledown pour diem popping on a waif or two, carrying cargo two word the Grade Divide.  BOONS OF NATIVE EDDY.  Piker pausing by.  LET THE WORDER FALL.  Let the worder rise; and let the vater fall.  WHO IS WAR STINK MY CLOSE?  When you whiggen, every tank will be white.  Wider and wider.  And ones a gun eur doter will loove you.  MAMA BIRDS ME; AND MAMA PRE BEARS ME FOR THE COMBING DAWN.  FROM THE DEBBEST HOLE.  Firewater.  Wedderfire.  ALL MORTGAGES ARE MADE IN HEAVEN.  Mort gauges?  Widdings donut you mean?  WET WILL BE HER COLOR THEN, WITCH OF THE SEVEN GARDES?  Reginbrown girls.  Ahh, but brun no lunker.  VIBJOR BEEHAPS.  Maybe a Bumpbee girl.  PER HOBBES EVENT A BALLY WOOD MAVEN.  Moored in a formerly vdo on a bark out din the rover.  UN RAVENA TENDON; OR A SUSHI MEAT SHEN.  Ahh, an Orien girl.  BUT U L MOVIE ON, FOR THE CURRENT CAREERS THE ARGHA A WEIGH ON WIDER SURES.  Eye miss you, Patel.  A DIMPLED CARP, ADIEU.  The hair shell be otters, shorely.  MORE WIDE OF A BROW, PERHAPS.  Maybe a Violet.  Perhaps a Violet the Duck.  SURELY NOT AN INN DAGO. Some darguys pneumed Sophia or perhaps Claw-Claw-Claudia. WE HALF BEND THROUGH THOUGHT ALL REDDY.   Went they grow worry, funnelly, of the dork strained years forking their doll tears they read turn to their homilets to freak their doctors themsilts.  DROVING THE DRAKE CLOUDS AWAY.  Maybe a Hyacinthe, a bluebroad width a qatar: Hair is a snake for you, ink on a pen, utter neat the sin, an umpteen plates to fuel him.  EVERY BROAD IS SAYING THAT HELL'S THE RIPEST WAY TO GO -- WELL EYE DON'T THNEAK SO: AN EMPTY PLOTS TO FULL INN.  Maybe a Jeanne, an 'ello jay gall width Chinese sin.  YARLOW TALLOW ISH THE CANDLEWOKS CLUSTER.  Maybe Saffron too.  Tomb Eric.  Peach.  Curry.  Tangerine.  Orangu tang -- drink kit deep, mate; vote a mind C for bows and fur red spiration.  FOR WRIST.  Cosmos.  MARY GOLD.  Yes, Mary Gold.  PERHAPS YOUR WIPE WILL BE ROSE, RED ROSE, ROSE BARD, ROUGE RUSTY.  Sabean colors.  OUTSIDE CALORS; OR INSIDE COLLARS?  Only alter the strom.  ARGON SEAL.  M13.  PRAY DAWN.  CHONG.  Ma at sea, yah.  MOSIS TWO.  Ahh, yes, wholly of holies.  BUD THE EGG HAS NOT TREE PORTS, BAT FOUR.  SHOAH, SHIELD MUMBRANE, OLD BLOOM MEN AND YARK.   Gorion, omnion, aramaic flowid, m'bul, all on toys, yoga stack, elbow men, and shall.  NO TO MEN SHUN THE LEG AND DAIRY AIR BUCKET.  Run sea lense when dip.  MEMBER WRECKS OF MAM OF RACKS.  Take a deep broth.  Worm you agayganst cold.  GOAD UN GOGG END.  NO THINK TO SELA UP THERE, BUTT A BIT END OF A SHELL CASING.  Atom's fear.  Brewing.  FEAR WEDDER.  WETTER FUHRER.  Bed temp starry.  MEM URALISING HIS STORE EGG TO ME.  Y'aids.  WADDY STAY?  Add for an ace of nose-ass a day, troth, godness, mickingisms, sign essence, dame agogracy, obstorkshun, and piss nicks, comes an ace (high low!) of freed tongues, faction, devil nets, kindred, art hessians, arrest odyssey, particle hilarity, and war feces.  ARE YOU BACK AT THE KHOMEINI CLUB, MISH TAR?  TOOLING YOKES FOR THE MOODNIGHT CRUDE?  My God, Hanah Shaw: light up the bistro.  GRAB A TIGRESS BY THUD HAIL.  Eye will bet you're afraid he's met a tormelling terror: a wreck.  BET THAT WAS THEN.  MORPHING EDES.  Are you lost drifting on your bark, Pluto?  Not so much the angle now as the point of node returned.  NOT SO MUCH THE ANGEL NOW AS THE LEG END DORMED AND DOMPED.  Mem ember while eur driftboating heir, halving eur fund in waterworld, flooding the form in eur ubturned day hiss, ballooning nether craven coast nor carved maid trow pulley toned boarders -- dripping in hour dreams of the grade specific, be yawned the conned predations of nombres and fishladders -- rede may embers, sin all of this, that the whirled hits a dungenness corrent, while you rest -- and must your remains be the gordian wadsher, the won with watches and wades.  Keep you ears on the war dear's plus.  You shell hear a rumblefish thorn dooring over the dust dance lake a bump going cough whale use leap.  You are the guardian room ember.  NIGH TWATSMAN.  One oar to the under take her.  And one tutor om dirt tracker.  EUR MOTH EAR LODS THE SONS OF HIS VOIDS.  Whose?  PETERPOLE HERVEY, THE MAN IN THE RODEO.  What?  THE PEED PEEPER OF THE NOSE BOYS, COMING IN SO CHLORIDELY DOWN THE PLOT RIVER DOWN THE Y HOMING RANGE STRAYED UP THE WIND RIVER OBER CAULDRON WOOD TRAYS IN DO YOUR FRESH AIR WIRED DEAR ERECTLY BUY TRAN SISTERS IN A HAND HOLD POTABLE RADIAL.  Zenith?  NO.  Alpine?  NO.  THE WORLD PIPED STRAY TIN TOOL YOUR BRIAN, GLOBE REAL.  I  gets.  YOU OAR YEARSELF THE RESEEVER.  ROW DATE YOURSELF IN THE BED, MOON, AND YULE, GHOULSELF, CAN CHAIN THIS STATION.  Page Two.  Paris, Frnace.  Conservative President Jacques Chirac, bouyed by an decisive vote that soundly rejected the extreme  right, accepted the resignation of the Socialist prime minister on Monday and turned toward his next battle: building a consensus ahead of parliamentary elections.  After crushing far-right leader Jean-Marie Le Pen with a  record-high 82 percent of the vote Sunday, Chirac promised to move fast to form a government that will respond to the nation's discontent and address rising crime, the chief campaign issue, with a law-and-order agenda.  THIS IS POLE.  PALL.  PAUL.  Hardly.  SHH!  Amsterdam, The Netherlands.  In a connected development, Maverick Dutch right-wing politician Pim Fortuyn has been shot dead on the streets of Amsterdam.  Fortuyn, 54, a  gay man who openly cririticized Muslims and advocated immigration constraints, was shot in the head and upper torso six times at close range as he was going to a Dutch national radio station in Hilversum.  Opinion polls had shown that Fortuyn and his party, running on an anti-immigration platform, were scheduled to win a large block in the country's parliament in May 15 elections. MEMREMBER: WHEN YOU DO WICK UP, THE HEARTH WILL BE A VARIED DEVIANT PLAYS THAN IT WAS WHEN YOU LOST TASTED IT IN EVE, ZONEY BOY.  A bull led in the brain then -- thought wash meant for you, wan'nit, Mercury Boy?  Lou Rawls and awls, gutting the sacred nug from sum one.  A BORE LAD IN THE BREEN.  Be guts he prepped his clan on danger.  ARE YOU WHIGGING UP AGAIN?  Hank a butt up on him: gwere, skinnet, fadshits.  PULL LITTLE COLD CORE RECTUM JUICE DEFIES THE MORTAR OF A MAIN EVOLVED IN THE DUMMY CRITIC SPOCK DRUM LEADING IN TO THE FEW DOORS OF ROLL LITIGOUS ARMOR GET ON.  Shh.  He's docking.  BOD NEWS.  Roll overt if you don't luck him.  IF YOUR MAM HADN'T HIT YOU IN THE MOON, YOU'D BED DOWN THERE WIDTH THEM, IN THE SHOEDING AND THE BLOD.  In Bethlehem, at the traditional sight of the birth of Jesus Christ, armed Palestinians have taken over the Christian Church of the Nativity and are exchanging gun fire with Israeli soldiers.  The Israeli troops initially drove back the Palestinian gunmen until about 200 shot their way into the ancient Church of the Nativity, built over the reputed birthplace of Jesus, to seek refuge.  The standoff sparked running negotiations between Israel and the gunmen through the Vatican. The army said the Palestinians continued to shoot from the church throughout the day. At least 10 gunmen were reportedly wounded inside the church.  There have been reports that the Palestinians also set fires inside the church. ISN"T THIS WAR THE BOD DREAM STORKS, SHIY NIGH?  The 28 steps...a film in the poper sense by oil-fried hatched cock cereebrating the reef fractive contiguum of the soler life on wacks and wayne in mulled tippled shoots.  THE HID LAIR RUMPLED UP OVER THE URINEST ROOM.  Page Two.  MUSLIN MISSLE HYMNS.  Careful.   YOU ARE GADDING ALONG THE DARGH CURTAIN AGAIN, BREEBARITORY DO BREACHING.  JUST SWIRM.  BE ROSIONABLE.  This is nut a holy day, friend.  PRAY LAYA.  PRAY LIYA.  Mother Moon can move a mountain.  VERGE ON MARE.  (Cinematographic impulse.  Scriptwise.)  Night mare too.  THE BLOCKED FEMALE HORSE, THINK AND QUICK, MOVING ON A LAND OF DREAMS, SHADOWED BY MOONLOT.  Is he the savior taken up rosy dance in this version?  WET L'S CAN WE ASSUME, CONSHUDDERING HIS BOISTERING?  We no who the bar blurrions are.  Dargh bards and blueberryblack hair.  TRY TO KIPPER YOUR CONSENT RATIONS, KIPE.  Other stations can cone in, star by star.  FORM WITHIN.  Modder talking.  MODDER SON"S SQUARED GARDEN.  Is thought where we are?  WHERE?  Maudlin zones skewered cauldron.  INRON NEEDLES RUINED 'IM.  Are  you always mocking my lave?  WARTCHING THE WHITE CLOTHES; HORNING THEM ON THE LION.  BRE-BREVIARY FOR THE NECK'S MORNING.  When ye waken mister dove.  LIDS THIS STILL WAR WE WHORE?  IN THE GRIDIRON?  Yoos.  IN THE GARDEN OF GOETHE'S SYMMETRY?  Prose icely.  SIS ICELY TYSON.  Blick mod Anna.  YITS.  Listen for the cock growing trice.  BEEF ORE THE DON BLATHERS ONSETLY, PETRIFIED BY THE MONEY STIR WHO ENDOCRINES HIS DROOM.  Sshore on stone.  CHARON'S TAWN; CHARON'S DAWN.  Noing it whale.  Jonah.  NO JAH.   Debth.  Garment.  VEIL OF OSIS.  Obit traitor.  ABBOTT TRADER.  Who's on furst?  Who?  Who's on?  Whos's on?  Who is Zahn?  Furst.  I DUE NOT WRITE IT; IT WRITES ME.  It rides meat, Vegan Megan.  EVERY NORN RIDES MEAD, ME DEAD.  How did yude note U devil been alive -- on lids U bean on the dailyfashion.  STAND BUY FORT NOSE.  Dublin, Ireland.  An Irish priest who has repeatedly stated he does not believe Jesus Christ was the son of God has resigned.  The resignation of Reverend Andrew Furlong, 54, who was facing a church trial for heresy, was accepted by Church of Ireland Bishop Richard Clarke, church officials said on Wednesday. Furlong has been unrepentant in the face of a furor sparked by his controversial views and has restated them repeatedly in e-mails sent to journalists and in articles published on the Internet, Reuters news agency said.  "I don't believe the traditional understanding of Christmas, that God took human form and was born as a babe in Bethlehem," he told Reuters in an interview last December.  Church officials have declined to comment further. MAL OF KEY OPEN CAN NEIN DOOR.  HECATE.  Bastiche.  THEY GO TO BED WITH GILDA, THEY WORK UP WITH ME.  One eleven, one all leven, one all even.  JOHN LENNON, JOHN LENNON, JOHN LENNON.  Rebel lotion nombre nein, nombre nein, nombre nein.  I SHOUT PIM FORTUYN.  I SHUT PLUM FORTUNE.  Volkertrugger with a gator and a pot stool.  HE'ST A VEGAN EGAN VAY URDER MAY AND AN ENVIOLENTMENTALIST EAT RUGGER ILLER K.  E woodn't herd a life fee.  E woodn't event ede a burgher, wood he?  MUST HAVE ATE A MURGER AND GONE BAD.  Lawyer Ted can dove a plea: On a scent (with a nug) by reason of nominal meat prisoning.  CORP PUZZLES.  What is the o'clock of the o'moon, fallow o'finnaham?  NOCHT KNEW.  Wad chas topped.  GODS, HOLIARROWS, MEN; THEN DE-MEN.  Andy Omo Serbians.  KAYE OZ.  Dun whore in the mock.  MORE ASS!  MORE ASS!  The niggative cartouche.  HOW MANY OM BUDSMEN DOES IT TAKE TO CHANGE AN OLD MONK'S DISAPORA?  Drunk with sleep.  THIS IS DIVIDENDLY NOT ABOUT RATES; IT'S ABOUT ROLE ITCHIIN'.  Trunk with slop.  DOES HE STILL HALF THAT POLISH ON HIS FACE, NEEPER?  In dneedy he ndoes, Stanley -- it won't watch off.  BLOCK C ONLY MAKES IT BLOGGER.  Mood night lots a lank temp.  IN DNEEDY IT NDOES, NOPPER.  GORE AND T'ED TO MAKE YOUSE MALE.  He lights his laities blue and nube.  AND WHO GAM BLOOM HIM.  THE B LIKES THE FLOW HER WHEN IT BLAZES NIT WHEN IT BLATHERS.  The opie and the newbie too.  THE ODDIOLOGY OF MUFTI CUD URELISM.  Audiology?  Simblee tune eur tuner by moofing eur mooner.  PAGE TWO.  JERUSALEM.  Star dick.  Muff it egg on.  WETS WORD.  With Israel preparing for military action in Gaza, officials from the radical Islamic group Hamas said Thursday that the Palestinian Authority had arrested 14 of its activists in Gaza.  Israeli police have said the suicide bomber who killed 15 people, mostly teenagers, in a gaming hall in Rishon Letzion came from Gaza.  Israeli Foreign Minister Shimon Peres told Israel Army Radio that Israel does not intend to occupy Gaza but to strike "areas where there is a concentration of suicide terrorists." Another member of the Cabinet told Israel Radio the retaliation would take the form of "air attacks and well-targeted ground operations."  Chief Palestinian Negotiator Saeb Erakat said if Israel goes ahead with attacks in Gaza it will undermine any attempts to revive the peace process. "The Israeli Cabinet decision to attack Gaza is adding fuel to the fire," Erakat said.  The Hamas arrests came after the Israeli security Cabinet met with Prime Minister Ariel Sharon and authorized a military strike in retaliation for Tuesday night's suicide bombing.  Hamas officials told Israel Radio that none of its senior members were among those arrested by the Palestinian Authority. Palestinian security sources confirmed Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat had authorized the arrests but said the Palestinians are having difficulties because of the fear of pending Israeli military action.  The Cabinet's decision to authorize retaliation came despite Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat's condemnation of the bombing. He issued an unprecedented order to Palestinian security forces Wednesday "to confront and prevent any terror attack against Israeli civilians from any Palestinian side."  In a separate statement, the Palestinian Authority said it would take "severe measures" against anyone involved in the Rishon Letzion attack, but warned that Sharon would use the attack as a pretext for further military action.  The radical Islamic group Hamas claimed responsibility for Tuesday night's bombing, but Sharon said Arafat bore responsibility. Some Israeli politicians renewed calls to send Arafat into exile after the attack.  NTIME.  DUDS THITS MEAN WE ARE DROLLY IN THE NTIME, JACK? The key verses of Scripture are all found in the Book of Revelation. It is in Rev. 13:17, that we first hear about something  known as the "mark of the beast."

 

                        "And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the

                                    name of the beast, or the number of his name."

 

In other words, the day is coming in which this world dictator will use some kind of identifying symbol - a tattoo, a computer  chip, something resembling the universal product code or some variation - to separate his followers from his antagonists.  Those who pledge to worship him will be allowed to buy and sell. Those who refuse will be forced out of the mainstream economy and presumably hunted down like animals. (Revelation 13:8, 15; 20:4)  STAND BY FOR NOOSE.  Plastiche.  Plastiche expo sleeves.  MAKHACHKALA, RUSSIA.  An explosion during a Victory Day military parade has killed at least 32 people and injured at least 130 others in the southern Russian republic of Dagestan.  Among those killed were 12 children and 15 servicemen.  Russian President Vladimir Putin called the attack "terrorism."  Government sources said Thursday's blast occurred shortly before 10 a.m. (1 a.m. EDT) as a military band was passing through a square in the city of Makhachkala.  It is believed the bomb was set off by remote control, according to the source.  The victims included children, veterans and musicians who were marching down  the street toward a cemetery to lay wreaths at the town's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  NTV television reported that the city's hospital was already overflowing with  injured.  In a separate incident across the border in Chechnya, rebels fi red on a sports stadium where Russian forces and Chechen civilians were also celebrating the anniversary.  One police officer was seriously wounded, news reports said, during the attack in the capital, Grozny.  The rebels fired grenade launchers from an apartment building near the Dinamo stadium, NTV television and the Interfax news agency reported.  NTV showed footage of schoolgirls running in alarm and Russian forces surrounding the apartment building. "Only by uniting the effort of the people and the state can we confront these threats," President Putin said.  "That was well proven by the anti-Hitler coalition. The coalition countries defeated the enemy. And today, we are again uniting and finding allies against a common threat. Its name is terrorism."  Dagestan sees frequent small-scale bombings and other unrest - often spillover violence from the two-and-a-half year war in the adjacent breakaway province of Chechnya.  Two weeks ago seven people died and 45 were injured in a bomb explosion at an outdoor market in the southern Russia city of Vladikavkaz. Muslim rebels continue to attack Russian targets inside Chechnya on a virtually daily basis. WED ABOOT THE CHORUS IN BEDLAM'S HEM?  Crieds child.  Wet grudge breach slot chests toard Bethlehem to be brown?  YATES, MATES, BLEACHED NUTS GOD HIM.  YATES, MATES, IN FOUR STRIPED GUNS.  While all d'abord it reel shod dolts of indulge end it dessert bards.  WHO IS THIS SECUND KARMING?  IS IT ANDY; OR IS IT ENDIVE?  Ve-ve-veg edible madder will come up sumtime in the for sure.  THERE'S SOME HERE NOW, ON UP CLOTHE HER DO THE LIGHT.  In sin you ate the low dust.  WET ABOUT THAT QUARREL REEF -- IS THAT ROCK OF IS IT FLEUR?  Rune forces of the C.  FROZEN SONGS OF THE OZONE'S GRISTMOSS CHORUS.  John C.R. Pubic.  QUARREL LEON; CORRAL LIAM.  A calcurious or hornyish kettlelittle deep closet prod doussed by ant hose sewn or rearly hide row sewn polypulps, auspiciously a ridgely rude prose hush choral segreeded by a Gorgon (genius Chloral Aryan); a pope lip or a pope lip colony, toolgether with its memberbrains and skull lectern; a bride raddish ovary, as of a hopster or a school pup.  The deep pink.  HOW CAN WE BE HERE IF THERE IS NO VEGETATO?  THING KABOOTLE IT?  Weird watchers we are.  Watching homo globulus.  BACH IN TIME.  Pre-Bach event.  I C.  ARE WE GOING BUCKWARD OR FURWARD?  Deepens upon your deaf enunciations, BC.  BCAD EAGLES FIVE PLUS FIVE.  EAGLES 10.  THE WON INSIGHT THE OZER.  Cd masher.  DONUT EVENT WRY TO WALK UP.  ZIT IS OGGLY OUT THERE NOW, BUMS GOING DEAF, GILLERS RATTRAPPING SMELLER GUPPIES.  ALL IN THE ROME OF FOOD FOR THUD.  LIGHT DOWN AGAIN.  DRINK DEEP THE GULL THEORUM GLUE, M.  Pithy Agoras: goatherd your strength.  NO HAIR DOWN HERE.  IT'S AS SMOOTH AS A REGAL ANGELFISH.  Pig low pipes die against us.  AS SOFT AS A SPOTFIN BUTTERFLYFISH.  Cheat of dawn: oscellate us.  THERE'S ONE GOING BY NOW.  Gabardine owed it.  STRIPPED ON THE RIGHT SIDE.  JUST WHERE SHE STUBBED YOU, WITH THAT NIECE OF HERS.  Who?  THAT SOUFFLED DUCK.  OR WHATEVER SHE WAS.  THE YOUNG FISH WITH THE BIG OPEN MOUTH, SUCKING KELP BASS OR WHATEVER IT WAS.  Pair of labrous clothed rotters, I think.  WASHN'T SHE SOME MOON'S NIECE -- THE RIB'S BAD GIRL.  SOFA'S FUCKER, I MEAN.  WASHN'T SHE A GETUP FOR YOU THEN?  DID YOU KNOW SHE WAS GOOING WITH THAT PRESSED ON BOY TOO, THE SIC SEMPER EMBER TEMPTRESS BOY THAT POOLED A BLADE IN YOUR PULPING WOUND, NARCING YOU DOWN FOR A MULLION OF QUID.  A DOOMED JUDAS HE MIGHT HAVE BORN TWO; BUT EYE CAN'T BE SURE OF NANNYTHING IN THIS LIGHT.  THEY SAY WAS PRUNE GRUNT AND BOTTLED BROKEN WATER AT THE C ON A SUMMER LOAN.  'WHERE THE BOYS ARE' MOST HAVE BEND HER ANT HEM.  SHE RAISED IT OPEN FOR A TORA BORA TOO, SHORE AS SHWE BREED.  I'LL TAIL YOU NO MER.  I CUNT YELL YOU WARRANT A REAM AGAIN.  Is that your mod ear talking -- sew convents eur in a scent now?  YOU KNOW HOW MURMURS ARE.  As inner center as they crumb.  That's what sheep believe.  She doesn't know your altar side.  Your pink side, Floyd.  Eur ardor side of the moan.  SEW, SHE SHALL NEVER SEED IT.  Love runs deep on blotter paper.  Even in cublets of bro's boetry.  THAT IS WHY I CONCH WID I SUCH RIDE IN SUCH OB-OB-OB SCAN DIDDY.  A school for scandal in aboot a cuddle of fish, no dought.  Thought is what I am telling eur mam, dote least.  DIRE UNCTION, LEST WORKING.  Thought is what happens when you lose your sense of spades.  FIRE COMES LATER.  You still are jest a speck of sperm, donut you know.  A monoral crust station ink your vater's eyes.  IN EUR MUTTER'S MOAN.  Deep pause it slip.  MILL KEY SPY REEL, STURMING UP CORDS AND WEIGHS.  Mid nigh: it seams to lots for ever 'round here.  AURA ROARA BORE A REALIST.  Don't baggette to breed, care bear.  Ewe shake a wife in haven from a tree' fleece.  For the prepuces of multiplugation troubles.  THAT'S A MAMMERY, IS IT NOT?  Freed dean; or froid dawn.  I.C.  As eye see as can be in called water, darkly.  ALEXIUS I. COMNENUS.  Ark Dacca.  And Anti-Ark Daccau.  POLLY INSOMNIAC OF IDES.  Alexius I. Comnenus.  POLLY I C.  Polly I know cynic ass hid.  Polly sight idyllic ox hide.  A SONG DODEC TOOT STRANDED AARON AID COMPOSTED OF ONE STANDARD OF WHIST AND A FECUND STREAMSHORE OF THOUGHT THOUGHT END DEUCES INNER FEAR ON FORM ASIANS AND HAGS BENT USED EXPONENTIMENTALLY AS ON ANDY CANCER ANDY VIRILE ARGENT.  Nonsense marker.  OGG SACKLY.  A BREE ORALLY: NO SENSE.  NO IDES, NO TORCH, NO CENT, NO TOAST.  ONLY OARS.  OARS TO PIERCE THE RIB OF FERALNOMENON IN THE DRAKE IN WATCH WE WIDGES MOOF.  Only mosaic to the ears.  GAUNT SEED IN FONT OF MY FREIGHTS.  ONLY ZOUNDS CRUMBING IN.  Layard Dreamality.  SIR LAYARD RE-MALADY.  Nin of A.  WHAT?  Zen nor cherub.  PROVIOUS TO THE COONY A FORM, OF COURTS.  Before malinguage, you're mean?  EYE DO NOT ROMAN TOE SIZE THE SORE VISAGES WIDTH THE LAIR OF RABES AND MOOR DURS AND TALL.  BEFORE RIGHTING CAME TO ROLE, RAID SING THE DAY COD, THE SUN DOG, AND MAIN, TOO, INTO THE POWDER.  Dream, boy, like a roil.  KINK, ARREST OF GRATS, DEMOTE GRASSES, CARROTS.  Four-powered formulant, foreign a gator, fame you later.  DREAM BOAT MANGER, KELPER OF THE WATCH.  Hair in the Deuteratomies box height.  SO HEAVY I DRINK I MIGHT STINK.  All you men: hear of my L O quints: width no pen in my haunts but only a pint in me treasures.  QUINCE BUTCH; QUINCE BUTTS.  Ewe want to wreat when ewe shudder went to ride.  PO' NICK: LIBBING IN D D MOD TEARIAL STAID.  Ovary thing stob watches.  FOB WATCHES TOOT.  TOO EARLY FOR COME FIT.  New zootsuite of cloves.  CLOVEN HOOVERS.  Grail horse on a gray old writer.  Keeping ovarythink gleam.  THIS IS NUT SUMP ABORT SHAWN, IST IT?  What?  SOME ARM'S BURNED A VACUUM ON.  The mate's polishing the starts -- thought's all dun on Hallewood and Phone.  BERRY BERRY QUITE SO FAIR, HEY -- HOW DOES YOUR GORGON GROW?  Hag seabeast.  NO.  THOUGHT WAS MORE HATS MORE CANDY.  Hearst wash't the monster's balls.  WIDTH ICE WHITE SLANT.  O, thought is how it's dun.  You're drying to take us bach to boatery.  Not watt else own canoe -- here flow dating on a well of weary.  DRYING TO BEGAME A GOD AGAIN  Swimming against tight.  UPRIVER CHANNELL LOKING TO FIND OLD FIRST FIRST OLD UTTER US.  Minks hides here.  WHERE THE GREEN ANTS TELL LIES, FITZ-FRITZ-GROWOLDO.  First the floss, then the friar -- then the furnace crater's grotto.  WITCH IS WAR WE ARE; THE FORREST GRATER'S GROTTO.  North of dandy; eats of Columbine's echotopia.  LISZT THEN: RODEO RELAYS SONDS ABOOT THE SOCKS ON STEW DENTINE WHO BROAD TO SHOEL A GONE AND CALLED TEAR CHEERS TO THEIR CRAVE.  Pole urbe.  SCHILLING IN THE WET STERN WORLD.  Juts like in armorica.  LUSHT MAD NEST OF GERM MANIACS.  Lashed mudknots of terra firma's brainy acts.  DE-MITES OF.  DE-METERED DOVE.  All sots called to doppler's dorm.  All salts walled from marbler's morn.  RHIMYNESS IS AN ANALYTIC CHORISTER.  Bach here again?  Bach her odd the queer sister's reef.  ID ZOUNDS LIKE LAURA'S THEME.  How dew you dew?  BY MY HAND OR BY MY SHOE.  BY A CANDLE; TRY A CARROT; RUB IT SOFT -- EYE WILL ALL WAYS SHARE IT.  Witch way are we going: bug words or flower words?  WAD SHAVER WAY, NO THE TORABORIANS ARE ALL WAYS WADING.  ARMORED, AS THEY ARE, WITH WHOLLY BUG AND SHARP PEN DEAD RAPIER.  A skull a coddle of fitz goth by.  HEAVY WATER.  A scholl a kid L of fidge groweth buy.  MODELED C BATS.  Weave scene him by far.  JAWFISH WITH HAWK NOSE.  Epiphanous, eat a jar of lukewarm phantasms.  HOLOCAUSTUS 'ILARIUS.  Queen Angelgish has a hammer back.  BALISTRADES CONSPICULORUM.  Inverted braided carnivore.  EWE DORKING ABOOT YOUR SITSTER?  Invented bride: carnivore.  OR BURRHAPS SOMETING 'OFT, LIKE A FEATHER OR A FEATHER'S WIND.  OR SOME CREAM.  SOME WIPED CREAM BAREHAPS WITH A TONG ON THE OND OF IT.  LOOKING FOR MISSES GOOD BARE.  Golden moray.  Yellow-headed jawfish.  SOFTTISH JAWFISH: LIKE THE CREAM UNTIL THE COSTARD COMES.  Phantasm of your dim approbriated nest.  WE FLEW UP IN THE SAME CAVE.  Bat midst vav.  THIRD TEEN YOUR OLD GIRL WITH HER POINTIES DOWN, TACKLING EUR INNER SENSE.  She is in her too!  MORE THAN WON.  Kleitoris Wrecks.  PRO JAGGED TILE OR RAGGED TILE SORE TIER RATED AT THE MONTH OF THE CAVE OR THE KOILOS HOLLOW OR THE KYEIN ASS SIT WAS NOUN TO THE FIRST GREAT FINGER.  The gnat's saw grouper: Ebb of me thesis.  Stray odd us.  NURSE SHARK.  Spawnish hogfist.  NO EUR DOCKING ABUT YOUR OWN FICUS.  Strobelight parrotflash.  BLOAT CHROMISH.  Is there lide down her now?  DONUT LUGE TOO CLOSELY OR EWE MY BEAT VAPORFIDGED RIDE IN.  Is thought where the vorcuum is?  Molly's under hollygram?  WONDER BAR BY BLONDE BY LUND .  Don't gut the flish too deep with your lance a lot, Moral Hamadd .  YOU KNOW, BY WAY OF CROSS, THAT THERE'S A MONSTER IS THIS CRAVE YOU MOST GILL. Inn this worried same grave?  LIGHT TWIN AND DARK TWIN AND A NAIF IN BEDOUIN.  A NAVE NAMED EGATOR.  Nay fella, nay vale: the Hobbes in the Whale.  ON A JIB ARE WE, MASTER PEGOOD?  In a choric, along a thy?  SHE THINGS EUR CRACKING, EGGMONT.  Wall rust.  Gleeking to see if the tombor will breach.  VAU.  Mushing in aum mien again -- like you don't new the weigh oud?  COO CUK - ACHU.  The manna port of the inter ear of a charge, eggspatially the lawn marrow ventricle hole in a crossy formed eagle ease that rite says hider than the eye L's flunking it to frame a Claire story.  E CLARIE SORTY.  Is that your grimace gruelling?  E GLARITY.  HOUR FARTHER WHOSE ART IS HAVEN.  Hollowed beat time's aim.  PANTY GHOST CRUMBS ALTER E STAIRS.  The starway to Seven, page boy.  ERECT ANSWER.  WHO ARE YOU DRINKING ABOUT?  Slim dreams of the old dirt gal, the won who dreeds him like a boilson.  SLAM (OR CAM) DREAMS IN STUD UP OUT THE YIN ONE, THE DATER, WHO TAUNTS HIM WITH HER BAUDY PORTS TO MAKE HIM FILL.  Shem and Shallwin again?  W and his row flux M?  OF WITCH WHEEL OUR ALL PROTS.  Prot or Cath: Cathatar Stew.  C S LEWIS.  Through a larking glass gentilly.  Lates.  SWARMING IN THE WORDER OF MODDER LIKE A SUAVE E.  When you swarm like a dolly fain or like a kidder wheel you can perk up trance missions all the weight vrom youth in Asia and bagged.  ROLLED TEAL WIFES WITCH ARE BROTH WIFES AND PARTICUCIPLES AT THE SANE TEMP.  ONE BIER EN GLACƒ, POLICE.  Flute in Sprinx, use uralment.  MELDING OF THE WHEATCAPES.  Over and doubt.  A SWEDE DRIGHT X U DATE OF A NARROW PEON NASH (EDGE SPECIALLY FRACTIONIOUS ONUS) THOUGHT CONSTRAINS MANNA TALL AND HASH WIDGE BEEN OSED AS A LOG SAT DIVE AND A DEMOL SCENT.  A SIMILE PRODUCT EGG SECRETED BY AS CALE ONSECT (TRIBUTINA MANNA POORA) FIELDING ON THE TAMAR RISK.  In dotir words.  A FEET MIRAGE CALLOUSLY INSCRIBED ON THE OZ RALLIES IN THEIR JOURNAL DAYS TROUBLING THROUGH THE WILD DURRESS.  DOVE VINELY SUPPLICATED ADD UNOX SPIGATED SHARDS OF GODIFICATION, PLEASED HER, ORE RUDE DEMENTIARY GAIN.  Interred your terraine.  Water in your noose.  DAMPY DUCKS AND DARKY DEMONKS DO.  Plans town here.  MOIST ASCRIBEDLY.  Wet else wood thee teat drink eur temp in the damp.  EVE I CALL FUR KELP NEW ONE CAN HAIR ME.  Sum can.  WHAT?  Sump pan.  YES.  Bluet ang callowdale dumbsell fatch furheight fatterflee hutch chirpnet upperpay blootcrowmiss stargent mayshore tallow goatflash ballutfletch treespout dampsailfloss strawled fieldfloss chirrupnoose pulverfudge trump pet frisch friennds angelfrench spitfin nighongoby great sandper oatzen surgeonflesh furry und whorelinquent boss mayhogofneeds snadpoper splitted more ray smoot drunkfitch redbund perotfast sputtered muiraid widener bluesdraped grant dewcollated warbunnet bar jock mosehead corral lean skullbean scarpeon flush blackrod flash help surfposh shiner rockfetch scalyhearted scalping stargo notthin runekill penpoint kennel oprah lie wreck wress corpsofbaldis ling god wideshouted greenlink puke it sound rigfetch rubberlip seatporch gillback gull adornya shepet femur shiner surfpunch gazebon caleback gopher rugflash treefitch hornsdrake badtray wallfeel wheatleaned corona opalescent nudibunch chimed nudibranch eggcentric scanned duller leaving hornmonth lurid's swoonsmale oregon tritone gunboat shyton strawbleary nameofknee punk hydrogirl shiny orange seal squirt or range seal pen or plumerose an enemy or sea blabber lacy briarzone fatterdastard warn francetubed warm dungeonnest grab red sea is lurching.  Red sea is lurching.  SUBURCHIN DWHALERS HERE IN THE RIB.  Is it planets or is its town.  IN BE TWIN.  Stone and moan; plant and can't.  Donovan.  JAUNNE DRAIN.  Do a zurich?  Fur: Eye M a forts.  DUNE. 

 

You are a fish. 

You are living in the deep, with other deep-water creatures,

All eager for light and blood and fodder. 

It is a green world, empty of the vagrant key,

Empty of the stars of the night,

Empty of the clouds and the thunder;

Full, instead, with the savage hunger of the shark,

The green fidelity of the underwater sun:

The rich fear of the hollow moons which renders every image

     a reverse reflection of itself. 

 

Yes, I am a fish now. 

Everything is reversed. 

Everything is visioned bloody and slow, musical in nature,

Greased for the unencumbered vocation. 

Grain is lost. 

The grainy texture remains only in the mind. 

The grainy metre accentuates the precise nature of men in the clay matter. 

Escallation of the manners in which difficulties are performed. 

Excellent production of the vice in living. 

Occultation of the view, the production of the names of the men

Who are able to detract from the vision. 

Listen to it. 

Take a drink. 

Figure out how the other half lives. 

Contemplate the massive men and the dreams

Which have impact down below the surface. 

You are a fish now. 

You are living among the giants,

In a land with dragons with no room for air.

 

VERY NUTS.  IS IT THOUGHT A CRUSHMAN BOAT?  I fumed it down her amid loosed ladders and utter baypier emoluments.  End mod.  HOW COON YOU READ IT DOWN NUN, DEAR -- WEAR THERE WASHT NO LOT?  Memory fears.  Oral cold sure.  BED THAT WAS IT BEEFER.  Wad.  WE HAS FISH HERE, SWARMING A ROUND.  WET ABOTT BEFORE -- WHOSE ON FISHED -- BEFEAR FISH, BEFEAR NOMINAL TOFOOT FURFOOT LIFE?  And then the won life quod station -- the won temp quest testion.  And the quit stone axed by Godd, in thought moment of staleness: Are you ready to be with me in heaven?  AXED OF YOU, AND OF YOU, THROUGH YOU, TO ALL OF OZ, ALL OF THE TWELVES SLIPPERS, SLOSHING HERE IN THE DREAM SHORE, AND THE 13TH, THE ONE OF YOU, CENTRAL STAR AND ALL, MICK ICKLES, THE STONE ANGEL.  ARE YOU RORIDY FOR THE WORLD TO ANT?  Naked qwet stun.  TOO NARCED FOR THEE, DREAMER?  Where were we before we were here?  GOD QUESTION.  Is Time just a trick  to make us think we are not where we are?  In the Garden of Eden?  ARE THE FALL AND TIME CONNECTION, YOU MEAN?  I red it B 4 the lads were turned doff.  END YOU MEMORIALIZED ID -- THE FRESH PUME?  You art loving amid the gigantics newt, in a london with dragged one and no rome for heir.  DUST THOUGHT NOT HAVE ME NUNC?  Hic et nunc.  HICK AT NONCE.  Note time for prose and all starries.  From the felon state.  WIT THEN?  On Earth, a large fraction of sedimentary rocks are carbonates, for  instance limestone and marble; they are the sediments that precipitate when a watery solution of carbon dioxide and

another  mineral, such as calcium, becomes saturated -- the 'scale' in a tea kettle forms in the same way.  IS SOMEONE WASP PURRING IN EUR EAR?  What?  ICE WIDE SHORT.  I don't honderstehen.  SEA ENDS.  I"M TAKING ABOUT SAY ONDS.  Vulcan is the first.  Volcanoes spew out urth's fire in the ded beads of the C and form this life ist emp loaded.  BOG BANK.  Pimplesimpledimple tone.  Dew.  Hod lore quid seegs a crack.  To fun L the hod holy lore quid a weigh.  BANG BONG.  Bill dink ob the urreth with lower and lawyer of rock and palm us.  URETH RA.  GOD OF SPRING, IN HIS BARK OF SING, LIKE NOAH: GOD OF RISSEN BODEL DYE.  Turn; and you'll fine ortel 'stitions.  LIKE  THIS?  The Yellowstone microbes are the closest relative to the original ancestor of life we have found so far/  And the interesting thing is that all the branches close to this original ancestor live in places with high temperatures.  That fact leads some scientists to suspect that life got its start in a scalding environment about four billion years ago, perhaps around the volcanic hot springs on the ocean bottom that spew out superheated fluids laden with metals and with energy-rich compounds that can power some of the chemical reactions thought critical for evolving life. According to this idea, seafloor springs simmered the sterile primordial ocean, causing chemicals to join together in myriad ways to create totally new molecules. Over thousands or perhaps millions of years, those chemical kitchens cooked up the greatest dish ever prepared: life itself.  WHY CAN'T I WORK UP FROM THIS?  Donut use the D work, mister hungryman.  SOMETIMES I THINK EYE MUCH BE DUD.  That was not the D word.  Locky for you.  LOG KEY.  Don't start up width your moth of mud ticks.  REM EMBERING IS A GIFT OF THE DEBT, IS SIT NUT?  Staring in do the fier, proud friend.  Diches you watt is god and wet is de-meniac.  YOU TEND TO FULCRESS ON THE HORMONE CAINDOM, ODD THE EXPANSE OF THE OTTER SAVEN.  Wod?  LIT ZEN SEE TO HEWN MEN NOSE.  MACHT ZEE BLEEDVE THAT MON'S STOMBLINK VIRD HUES ARK ALL THOR IS.  DOWN HERE, EVERY FITCH IS EVEN.  Lamzeedotes and lamzeedotes and liddlelamzeedivey.  OH ID'S CRYING TIME AGAIN, YOU'RE GONNA LEAVE ME.  I CAN SEE THAT FAR AWAY LOOK IN YOUR EYES.  I CAN TELL-ELL BY THE WAY YOU HOLD ME, DARLING, THAT IT WON'T BE LONG BEFORE IT'S CRYING TIME.  Waking life.  WHEN?  Sleep, barbie boy -- you will bee whigend before you flode away, into the sky.  YOU'RE LOT'S LIDDLE BOY.  Twin to-date fazers of the moond.  D-D-D-DOOR-DOOR-DOOR-DARLING.  I DRINK YOU NULL WED TO DO.  IMP-POSSIBLE?  YES, IT'S TRUE.  You're Lot's liddle boy.  DRYDEN TO SOLVENT A STIGGY POOZLE, ROWDY MISTER YATES?  Chase her if you can; my beds that you count even memerbry her nom.  NOR SEEMS IT STRANGE; FOR EVERY NOBLE NIGHT WHO LOVES THE FAIR, AND IS EMBUED WITH PRIDE, IN SLUDGE A QUEER HALL WOULD BE FIRED TO FLIGHT.  Yawn, Jaun, weared you gad those tides?  THAT GRETTA WAS THER NOON UNDER THE STONE.  FUL MANY A RICH CUNT TREE HADDE HE WONNE, WED WITH HIS WYSDOM AND HIS SHOVELRY; HE CON CORED AL THE RAIN OF FEMINEY, THAT WHILOM WAS ECLIPSED SCITHILY.  (LAMBED WRIST OX  TENDERED.)  An eel for love, and derms of old renowned.  Butt twood have scold his leaf to pier chase form, to pal among orby ark kite sent his norm.  SHOD SIR, CLAIRFUL HERAMONG THE MIDOSSIAN RANGE.  Wet's that deepdownbelow?  Lugs like stevepipes blueing arsenic and high-high-hide rougian surfate ub boutta thews blackblasters?  JIBE ANT GRABS AND GLAMS.  TUBE WARNS.  FEDDING OF BLACKDERRIERE.  Age to odds.  FENT FISH VEEDING OF GRAMS AND GLABS AND THE TWO BWORMS.  Eye will take my back terriere strait, seal food plate.  BLOKE SMOKERS.  Daking after bellows.  RIGHTY TIGHTIE; LEFTIE LOOSIE.  Prawn and Shrimp a gunk?  VULGANIC VENTS, BALASHING DOUBT AT FORT DEAN DUNDERED DEGREES FOREIGN HEIGHT.  Who can lib dun dere?  VORCED LIFED.  BUG TERRIERS.  DOSE THAT LIB AND DOSE THAT KELP.  Siphonophie.  SIN SYMPHONY?  Bloot angle.  FUNGDOOTH.  Buy old luminescence.  BOD THAT'S HIRE, UP IN MID DULL C.  Coq.  Full can comes first, pewing his sludge ub oudda his 'at.  HOT DOWN DERE.  Burn da hair right offa my sin.  LE POULE LAY LE POUOSSIN CRAMMING UP DIN TUBSTRUCTION.  Wedge came first?  DAYG.  Rose terre.  AMALGAM INSITE.  Sew sigh lent and colde here amunch the big blue, width only vent vish to dock two.  CHASE HER HAVINK GUN HERE.  Lots.  MOVE YOUR POTTY, TUNE YOUR TANK.  Thought is mon's lot in this worbled.  PAGE DEW.  KALUCHAK, India -- Suspected  Islamic militants opened fire on an army camp in Indian Kashmir, killing at least 30 people and wounding 40, marring a new effort to ease the tension between nuclear foes India and Pakistan.   Eleven women and ten children were killed in the attack -- wives and children of Indian soliders.   The raid at Kaluchak, in the disputed Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, is one of the most deadly attacks in the long-running Kashmir conflict and the worst violence in the region in over six months -- a war which has claimed from between thirty and sixty thousand lives in the last ten years. THOUGHT IS MON'S SLAUGHT IN THIS WARHOLD.  Handy Warhold?  Ore you Handy Warhold?  WET CAN BE DUNE ABOUT IT?  A time of rust.  That is it.  LED HIM SLEEB SOME MORE.  IT HAS NOT BEEN LONG.  The mutter's voids spiggot in the dorkiness.  MATRA MATRI, STUBBIT MADDER.  List then to hims breedthe, here in the offal silas.  BREADTH ALONE.  NEITHER DEPTH NOR DOPTH NOR DELEP NO DALATH NOR DOPETH.  Dorm only.  THIS SCRIBE BETH, SHE NUT, THIS PLATES WISH SHETH NO PLATES?  RODEO TUNER.  She has not men toned wadder.  WAR DEBT SAY GO?  MOLAR READIES BUST, POLAR STUMP  JOE NAH YOU; OR NOE AH TWO?  Dangma, Dangma, they odda take a rape and hung ma; high from the highest nontree, woolman will ya weeb for me?  DANK MA.  Mother may I note the manning of the dorm, 'dang ma'?  YES.  Sew?  AHH, IN DORKNESS COMET THE CLAIRE INSIDE.  ALL LAYA IS A KINDER STATE WEAR THE AILMENTS HAVE TALL BROGUEN DOWN TO ZERO.  And poor old Martha?  YOU NO HER THEN?  Nut in sum temp, eye trust.  WENT, THEN.  One has to acquire true Self-Consciousness in order to understand 'Samvriti', or the 'origin of delusion'.  Paramartha is the synonym of the Sanskrit term 'Svasam-vedana', or 'the reflection which analyses itself'.  IS THOUGHT WHY SHE'S BEEN A'ROONED ALL DAMP NIGHT WISDTH US?  Glarity is negst to drumdriness, Earfinder.  WAR IS ALL PAY ARVEY HAY NEW?  Turn on year buck and you cunt here anythrong you luck, Keiko.  But thlid wan's tiring to hope you.  HOWL?  Sheets rying to torch you abbott your cells now.  HOWL?  Where were the Builders, the Luminous Sons of the Manvantaric Dawn?  ROOM EMBER.  MAN VENTURA IS A BROOK THE PORE RIOTS OF WORKING AND FEELOWED BY SLOOPING (OR SLOPING, IN EUR CATES) THOUGHT A GUM BUNNY ORDILY EX SIS DANCE.  DATE FOLLOWED BY NECTARS LEAP.  SUM MORES FOLLOWED BY WIMP DOORS WAKE DENSE.  Y does she spig in glear Anglooshh; bod you speag in drunk kin goonlish?  CHEESE IS ON THE RAY DEAL.  AND THE PEE AND O HAS BENT TRINKING.  Doon waits.  YES.  In the unknown darkness of their Ah-Hi Paranishpanna.  STOOP.  CORIFICATION.  'Paranishpanna' is the absolute perfection to which all existences attain at the close of a great period of activity, or Maha Manvantara, and in which they rest during the succeeding period of repose.  WAR TEARS?  Nut zed.  WEAR WE ART HAIR?  Nut shed.  I ZEE.  Zider Zee.  CIDER SEA -- HALF YOU ANY TOPHET OWN YA?  Open ver mouth; wad thinken zee drinken zee?  OCEAN VILLA PERTH?  Cheerie word, Kaye.  Glug it dune.  IS THOR LAND SUM WAR?  The producers of form from no-form -- the root of the world -- the Devamatri and Svabhavat, rested in the bliss of non-being.  IS THOUGHT WET WE ARE, HUE AND MEAD: DOVER MAID TREE AND SLAV OF BAT?  IS THOUGH WET THIS HIS: THE BLAST OF NUN BEING?  TALE ME.  Eye am a mon who nose himcelt nut -- dey night so ddheep dhaark.  QUARK.  Poeddic intent.  DOVEY MAID TREE IS THE DAMPY URGES.  SLAV HABIT IS THE FAVVERMAVVER TWINED TWOGETHER INK THIS LEAP OF A KINGQUEEN, DUALLYWON.  Thought, widthout thought, in the naidsure of the bless of nun being than?  BEFIRE WATER?   SAUCE SPIRE; EXSIS SPIRE  MOD TREE POD MA.  Room ember?  TORN.  Shall this be called a coincidence? A strange one it is then, indeed, when we find even Moses -- found in the water of the Nile -- having the symbolical consonant in his name. And Pharaoh's daughter "called his name Moses . . . because," she said, "I drew him out of WATER" (Exodus two, ten.).  Besides which the Hebrew sacred name of God applied to this letter M is Meborach, the "Holy" or the "Blessed," and the name for the water of the Flood is M'bul. A reminder of the "three Maries" at the Crucifixion and their connection with Mar, the Sea, or Water, may close this example. This is why in Judaism and Christianity the Messiah is always connected with Water, Baptism, the Fishes (the sign of the Zodiac called Meenam in Sanskrit), and even with the Matsya (fish) Avatar, and the Lotus -- the symbol of the womb, or the water-lily, which is the same.  FALL MOAN.  Wear not there yet.  TALL MORN.  Nud even clothes.  DURN YER DALE, COWBOY.  Beige Do.  Washington, D.C.  The ancestor of all the grains, fruits and blossoms of the modern world may have been a fragile water plant that lived in a Chinese lake 125 million years ago.   The plant, called Archaefructus sinensis for 'ancient fruit from China', is of a species never before seen and carries the clear characteristics of the most primitive of flowering plants, said David Dilcher of the Florida Museum of Natural History and the University of Florida.  Dilcer continued: "It is like the mother of all flowering plants.  It changes our whole impression of what is the oldest of all flowering plants."  Botanists had long considered a woody plant from New Caledonia as the most ancient of flowering plants. Dilcher said the new discovery precedes that magnolia-like species.  The discovery also suggests that flowering plants got their start as herbs growing in shallow pools and were able to reproduce quickly, a distinct advantage for survival, said Dilcher.  Archaefructus "was not a flashy flower," he said. The plant's flowering part had no real petals, but acted only as a reproductive unit.  "The reason we can say it is a flowering plant is that the seed is enclosed inside of carpels of the fruit," said Dilcher. "That is primary key." A carpel is the female part of a flower.  It is believed that flowering plants later developed colored petals and fragrance and tasty fruits to help in reproduction. The showy, good-smelling flowers attract insects to help in pollination and animals eat the fleshy fruit of plants and help spread the seeds.  Dilcher said that Archaefructus apparently lived in clear, shallow pools, with its flowers and seeds extending above the water surface. Its leaves probably were submerged, he said, and the limbs were partially supported by the water. The plant rooted in the floor of the lake. The best evidence of its waterlogged lifestyle is that fossils of nine fish were found among the branches of the plant in the slab of stone dug from the ancient lake, he said.  "The closest modern relative is probably the water lily or the lotus," said Dilcher.  At the time the plant thrived, 125 million to 144 million years ago, dinosaurs roamed the Earth and the early ancestors of mammals were tiny creatures skittering among the rocks.  Dilcher said the lake where the plant lived was near erupting volcanoes. The plant was buried and preserved by a heavy fall of volcanic ash. Finding the most ancient of flowering plants also sheds light on the evolution of humans, Dilcher said.  "We co-evolved with flowering plants," he said. "We depend today on flowering plants for our survival, for food and fiber and building materials. The wheat, rice, corn and all of the fruits that we enjoy are all flowering plants" that may have evolved from Archaefructus, Dilcher said.  Other experts in Science said it will require more examination of Archaefructus before it is generally accepted as the most ancient of flowering plants, but Peter Raven of the Missouri Botanical Garden in St. Louis said it "may be the most significant flowering plant ever found."  ARK HE FRUCKED US.  Noa or Newa?  ARK OR ARCH?  Old brute fromthe shine eats.  HUN GRAY STILL?  THOUGHT WILL MAKE YOU DANGEREUX.  Four boaten.  VATER-MATER.  Voter-Moter.  SLOOPING IN BED, JEST PERTY ASS PUNCH.  Punch and Jewdy.  WATT?  No lied in here.  Dumpless sheep.  Bean counted.  THE RADIO IS STILL ON.  NO WAN DEAR EUR SLEEP IS SEW TLILTED.  READ JAY CROSS AND DARN ID DOFF.  Shh, dare.  Go bug da sloop.  Shhhhh.  AUNT THROPO, GENEIST.  Gender ration.  Vocus.  VOCUS BUB YOU LIE.  DOWN.  Prove it Mule-la-mule-la--Mule-La-Michaelmas: whose passed and future sins have been forgiven.  MORE HOMINID THAN YOU MIGHT BELIEVE.  Coming out of the deebest port.  SHH.  SHE'S BACH.  Fatter mossier sun.  DONUT LED HER HERE YOU CULLING HER THOUGHT.  Not here.  Us.  US?  One of the symbolical figures for the Dual creative power in Nature (matter and force on the material plane) is Padma, the water-lily of India. The Lotus is the product of heat (fire) and water (vapour or Ether); fire standing in every philosophical and religious system as a representation of the Spirit of Deity, the active, male, generative principle; and Ether, or the Soul of matter, the light of the fire, for the passive female principle from which everything in this Universe emanated.  Hence, Ether or Water is the Mother, and Fire is the Father. Sir W. Jones (and before him archaic botany) showed that the seeds of the Lotus contain -- even before they germinate -- perfectly formed leaves, the miniature shape of what one day, as perfect plants, they will become: nature thus giving us a specimen of the preformation of its production: the seed of all phanerogamous plants bearing proper flowers containing an embryo plantlet ready formed.  This explains the sentence "The Mother had not yet swollen" -- the form being usually sacrificed to the inner or root idea in Archaic symbology.   The Lotus, or Padma, is, moreover, a very ancient and favourite simile for the Kosmos itself, and also for man.  The popular reasons given are, firstly, the fact just mentioned, that the Lotus-seed contains within itself a perfect miniature of the future plant, which typifies the fact that the spiritual prototypes of all things exist in the immaterial world before those things become materialised on Earth. Secondly, the fact that the Lotus plant grows up through the water, having its root in the Ilus, or mud, and spreading its flower in the air above.  The Lotus thus typifies the life of man and also that of the Kosmos; for the Secret Doctrine teaches that the elements of both are the same, and that both are developing in the same direction.  The root of the Lotus sunk in the mud represents material life, the stalk passing up through the water typifies existence in the astral or emotional world, and the flower floating on the water and opening to the sky is emblematical of spiritual being seeking the sun. DO MUSH!  DO MUSH DEW REMURMUR.  Papalling prook.  WORDER DUNK BELOWED TOOL, NORDTH TO SOUDTH.  River in the ocean.  GRADE MOODY MISS SIS LIBBY.  Eye haven't thud of the sluice of flesh for a severaled moment now.  Sidsister must be stonewhere.  Under sunk kind of alimentary grid.  Now.  NOW SURGESTS TIME SEQUINS.  YETS.  LANGUE HAS POOR REITIC MAL FAISANCE DUE.  Loafliness, suaveness, plurity, zent.  BEFUR YOU SPAKE, ZERO THRUSTER, ROME EMBER ALL YOU HALF TO LOOSE.  Horrid to dwinkle down tears and slime a loid of nombers and numb birds and nome bears and pale leoriffic founds went ormies goatherd on the blaines of gone aroma, bree bearing fur a whore ripple even tent gnoming to the vollies of the lair nibble folly and awl.  OR HOPE, YOU MEANT?  Le pen is mutier thin the seaward.  I LEG MY DOTIRS BADDER THAN MEYE COSINES; MY CUSSIN'S BEDDER THAN MOI NO BIRDS; MY NIGH BROADS BUTTER THAN STRONGERS; AND STRINGERS BEATER THAN MIND ANEMONIES.  The wide cells art the solder sells.  Friding width black terriors thought went to destry eur puddles.  RITES OF THE RICE IN OUR HOPE.  Cross stains on the holy cost.  CROSS SAID.  Is lamb a lamb or is lamb a lynx to block cod; Saint Tan or Saint Tenor of Ted Aim.  ABBESS SAIDS IN THE BLOODY, OFTER THE WOMBED.  Wed station now?  OF THE CREST?  On the die all, sturgeon.  K O M A.  Old call home her steady?  DEEB SLEEB INSTAND.  You've bend by Rusty Shackleford's Body Tanist's Pier Spunktive and his snooze of the low tests dumb in nunce in horror stairy.  Eve hand banned by the morphologists muidth in the boids of that old dwindle in the blocked close, the Rosian warman who is a kinder moth ear to the sleeping old Jung giant heir.  And Pall Livery too.  Silent delling us aboot the blarning of the Ozreal ember sea in Pair Ra; or aboot the moss slim currying a guppy of the core hand in one hang perling a shut gone from his goat and chewed dew mend hool ease clamed loved at his tear bane.  MANY STATIONS OF THE DROSS.  Oh, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee.  And I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, My God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love.  I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life.  O MY VAULT, O MY VAULT, O MY MOST GRAVEST VAULT.  Sank show worry.  DUN HERE.  EYES IS.  Dangle in your engel forming.  THE DANGLE ATE EUR BABY.  Hard low tropics.  THE DANGMA EIGHT YUR BLAY BLEE.  Swim low, sweet charred riot.  Someone's gonna carry you home.  ZZZZZ.  STAR DICK.  Scientists announced this week they have detected atmospheric conditions on objects orbiting other stars, seeing the effects of torrential storm clouds that in some ways resemble those on Earth and our planetary neighbors.  The deep space meteorologists conducted their studies of celestial bodies known as brown dwarfs, which are more massive  than gas planets like Jupiter but smaller than stars.  BWOWN DORFS.  Alla, oola, foozy, wizer.  DON'T FOGGET KING COAL.  King Cuz and Queen Humper.  OOPS!  WEAR YOU READING THOUGHT?  Memries.  Form the dormers of my mine.  HE GOD A BOB IGLY CLOP AND HAT FULLA FUR LIKE GRADE BOG LIARS AND THOSE GUZZLY BORES HE IS THE DUFFEST MAN THAT THE LAIR IS ALIVE WEARING CLOSE RIDE OFF THEM WHIRRLEDCATS HIDES HE'S CLEARLY THE KINK OF THE JUNGLE JIVE -- THIS MOON AINT NO FREEDIAN -- LOOK AT THE GRAVE MAN GO!  Cave moon, I believe you meant to stay.  YES.  CRAVE MEND.  HEIGHTING IN HERE.  Wadderworld.  SWIM LO SWEET.  Churned result.  MILGUE.  MILGY WHEY.  Kurds mossing on the broadear.  KURDS AND KWEYS.  Agca Khan.  War tiff heal warranted to be the pulp fur a date of two?  A mole annium ore too?  WAR TERRE YOU SLAYING?  Gribble gribble.  SANGT PATER'S QUEER.  THOUGHT IS WEAR HE SLAUGHT HIM.  NINE TONE ATE HE ONE?  War tiss now.  TEST HIM ONIAL.  Pie Ted Pieber, ledding his peepers blue.  MAGNET A BOSOM.  The bloossom of the curse a.  Clavinet.  TIED.  Piped.  BOWL UP EUR BANTS, POY.  FATHER CRANIUM GIVES A LESION IN BUTTENDING A BLAND OLD EYE SNAKE.  Lahoma; Lahoma  Oak of Lahoma.  PACK A STAND OF POPPIES AND LEAD THE HIND DIANNE MATE HIM IN KASHMIR.  Lugging width eur tears.  DIVINA JUSTICIA EST QUAE PERPETUA LEGE A BONAE VOLUNTATIS SUAE CONTINUACIONE NON FLECITUR.  Of raid?  WET?  R U off Freud yet?  DIVINA TEMPERANTIA EST QUAE IN SE PERPETUA INTENCIONE CONVERSA EST.  Codex modex crowdex flowdex.  MAGENTIFFICAT.  Magnet tuffet, Kate.  PARSE SIMONY -- BEATER BAWL AND ALL THE TAINTS.  Corn naval Gropius.  BILLED IT DOWN WIDTH A BRIC A BRACK.  Ark of touch dove the yoni verse.  Call mink of fact.  WHO GAIN WHORE US DUN HOAR.  Ged glue, sir, to the blag vends grooming oud off Fullcan.  FIVINE FORTUDO EST QUAE SEMPER IDEM EST NEC ALIQUANDO MUTATUR.  Wind toss the lied game buck con?  GROSS WORD POST HOLE?  No work times dun hair.  Wooly Bully.  EYE CAN FINED YOU WON.  Down in da dumps?  NO HAIR DYET.  Sew gold darwin here.  MOVE GROSSER DEW THE HATE BIPES.  SKINHERD.  Wear?  WHO?  Wet?  WEND?  Y?  UND TOWELL?  Skeinhards!  Howl money?  Tree or fjoid?  DOWN HEIR: NODDING BUT STYLE LENGTHS.  You staid sum drink.  MARKING YOUR OWN FOLD GAB POOL LEERY.  SUDS SAT MACKERAL YOU A GRUB THEN?  Nut on your word tit done scent.  DIVINA PRUDENTIA EST QUAE NON TRANSIT DE COGITACIONE IN COGITACIONEM SED IN CUIUS INCORPOREO CONTUITU SIMUL ADSUNT CUNCTA QUAE NOVIT.  Frother Monk, prebuce, prebuce.  WEAR HALVE YOUR THAMES GONE?  THERE IS NO PLATTE NOW.  NO NEISSE CORRIGIDORES.  NO VOLTAGE.  NO AMAZON GRACES.  NO OB SHOCKED DOVE MOVEMENTS.  THIS IS NUT A NOVELL LATIN ATE ALL.  IT IS A MULDAU MOOR ACE.  A BELEM BIEN EDICT TOSS.  THERE'S NO AMUR.  NO MAGDELAN FOR TROUT'S MOUSSE.  PROOD'S MOOST.  NO YELLOW STONE; NO WIDENED ISLE OR BALOONED ISLE.  NO HIO SILVER.  NO KAMA TANANA.  NO PORCUPINE PECOS.  NO KABUL TO BE TAKEN OR RAVI TO THE LOITER AIRY RE VUES.  NO RAINY NODES; NO NI AGORA GUPPIES; NO OKA CANNES.  NOR IN OKO'S SATINED MALE LINK CHOLONY.  SOME BEASTY MARBLING IN WATER, WAIL IKE AND DULL PIN SAME OLE LEE'D.  YOUR ALL, LIKE LEE, TO VAIL.  WATER CRUMBS UP SO HIDE, FAKING ALL THE RIBBERS AWADE.  DUNA, DONAU, DUNAV, WON'T YOU TAKE A WALK WIDTH MEAL, JAINY, JAINY, OH JAINY, JAINY.   CALL ME A CAB, MOISTER CALL AWAY.  SANG POOR, NON DENOMINATED.  SALWEEN DONS THEN, GRUBBED BY THE MARKER?  TARIM, TARIM, ORANGE AND RED.  TIE GRITS AROUND EUR SHOE AND PLAY THE DANS FOR YOU.  SALT FIRST; INN OF PRUTH.  LOLL GONE.  LOLL OF FLOUNDERS.  Hwai?  JEST THE WAVE THE ELBOW BENDS.  DRINK RHINE FOR YOUR REDDING AND DRINK TRINITY FOR EUR SIN-SIN-SINATI.  BUGS.  HAVEL, NOISSE, FLINT.  THEY GALL ME MALU YALU.  KWITE RIOT, MISTER GREEVES.  SAY ONE PLATTE ETUDE; GDANSK FOR THE CRACK CROWD.  FRED SHEDS WATER AMENOUSLY GULLS.  SALTEST SETTY MEANT BE NEAT THE BIDES FULL CAN ELLIE.  L E.  L E PEN -- BEING LIFIER THAN THE S WORD?  Life Extender.  OH, CITIZEN DILDO?  Vain Ellas cry.  L A FITZ GERALDO?  Didn't I assay him dune the hail, volumizing bart middleer?  WIDTH A CAIN THAT HE TWORLD RUNED HIS DYED MARINE FINGER.  In a balled Timore hole telled so sigh at he gathering.  LAIDS LAIN BY A COON; LAIDS BENDT BY A BRINE.  Washed deterred hymned turd dead story all thought washed gentile.  STUMP!  WORRIED IN THE GLOCK?  Claim show.  WARSHING CLOSE ALONE THE WAR BASHED.  Art those bottle heaves of men floding hair down the sane?  WAR TEAR MAIL ONS GIFTS ME GASH.  Momma me a senior he a, men half maimed you.  WHO IS MO AND WHO IS LISA?  The fibbest and musty fabulusty gupples.  KHATANGA GAN YOU DANS, MOISTER LATINO ROMANCINO?  Eur gonna stopped gibbing me thought of rank sin natura, hod hanking down gill me a sag garrette think next, walnut you, Master Odlid?  SWARMING LIKE THAT.  U R net goring geep eunuch, Migue.  Take a breast and divest deeper in the dargue.  DIP DEEGER!  DIP DNEIPER!  Whore to culturalist.  SURETY OF GOD.  Is thought wade eye amp seeking?  DIE ARTS IST EIN BUCH!       Arts is dun brook?  EIN.  EIN.  One.  Sure it triste.  Bud we war at zorro.  quartae wunt, quae in ipse divina mente consistunt, quam diximus nouv vocari: a quarum exemplo reliquae omnes per ordinem defluunt.  nam si rerum aliarum, multi magis virtutum ideas esse in mente credendum est.  illic prudentia est mens ipsa divina: temperantia, quod in se perpetua intentione conversa est: fortitudo, quod semper idem est nec aliqunado mutatur: iustitia, quod perenni lege a sempiterna operis sui continuatione non flectitur.  haec sunt quaternarum quattuor genera virtutum, quae praeter cetera maximam in passionibus habent differantiam sui.  Flitter G N Nola, holding a carrot under his cassock, warshing the boids in the show hers at Jim's nasal hymns.  Warshing his care rot with symposium soap.  CAREFUL GARE.  Maximum in passion buts he bent different him do parts -- sui generis.  WADE THEN?  Diviine Justice; divine temperance; divine vortexitude; divine prudence.  DULL VINE PRUDE DENTS, NOAL?  Microbe bias: cement hurry in psalm he aims, sip he owns us.  UTAH'S CORTEX.  Brig Ham Yung.  B 4 HE CROWS BICK AND TAWNYTAWNY TRUE.  Zalt zitty on a silt hill.  PROFO DIE EN DECORUM, STEADY EDDIE.  Fur?  YES.  THE FUREST TRIBE COMB PRIZES THE VERT SHOES THOUGHT ARE PROSENT IN THE DOVE VINE MINED ITS HEALTH.  THE NEWS, IF YOU ORE MA TURN; OR NEW, IF FRIENDS FROM FRIENDS: FROM THE POD TURN OFF WEDGE ALL FOR SHOES DOOR HIVES.  Sprig cloister, walnut you.  WIDOUT WET?  Widour punc king ledge.  IDS THE WAR TEARS: ID DEADS DORTS THE SEW NEAR.  THE ZOUND.  TROUBLING ON THE WEDDER'S WAIFS.  THE SEWN ARE.  The sewn are wheat?  THE SEWN ARE THE RUDIMENTS OF TROTH.  Arta Atta Turk: wear half your gong?  THE ALLTIN ISN'T WARBLED.  Ill send air full, Kaye.  DOGMA DANGMA; DANK MAR; DOVE.  Crinoline sin of men din of men pin of men.  SPARK CLAYER.  Brunx of brat and cruch of cat.  HEARTEM EST SHOVEL HER.  Spock glorier.  HEAS LAWST.  Whool?  THE RIOTER.  HE WAS CAVILLING INK LIKE SOME CAVENDISH WALTER TREEMING ABOVE LOGY ABOURD ISS GREEK OPIC NUBBLE AND THE CRUMBING RETOURNS OF SOME NOBLE PRICE.  LUBBING HIS CREED ASIAN AND THE MOSQUE HIS TASK HAD GRAVEN HIM.  NOW GONE.  NOW ONLY WEB DAR.  AND THE SLEEB OF THE NARCO LAP DICK.  Tuner.  WAD?  We arrive at meaning through a process of accrual, so that each new element of piece of plot makes sense only as it reminds us of what has gone before and as it restates a basic crux or situation.  The repetition of theme or incident necessitates the building of vertical towers of information which require immediate reference back to their analogues.  TURN.  Wid?  TORN.  Twink tours in tours; vertig gallity mallity babality.  FAIR OF MARS.  Wid?  FAIR OF MARS.  I rome ember the name.  NOAH BELLA PRISA.  Chlory dies.  IN CITY US PRAY COCKS.  Prey posies.  PIGK KING'S SING LESS.  Widow's ardor.  WIDOUT ORDER.  Aye.  Stop.  HANDS OF HOD, HANDS OF NOD, HANDS OF MOST GREIEVOUS COD.  (Bowing in sullence.)  HIS OPERUM FORMAS DEUS EXEMPLARIBUS HORNAT.  For gardinal virtues.  BOATHOUSE KYRIES: VROM THE BIG INNING ALL THNKS WIDOVER WITCH HAT BEEN CROW WAITED MAID BE SEEN BY THE NOTCH HEER OF THINKS TO BE FOR MAID BY RATION OF NUMBEER.  NUMB HER WAS PRINCE SIMPLE EXEMPLAR IN DEMOND OF GREED HATER.  DOS tortion.  P C VERY TEA.  Originea.  NUMB HERS.  She sprigs; he calcs.  KEY SUM BONUS IS.  KEY SOMME SAPPIEST IS.  KEY SOME IST.  Tell me 'bout the obening.  WHERE?  There!  VERSIONEST OF VERSIONS.  Esau is wet the dung keys say.  HAY COB IS WAR TIT THE GIRLIE GLUES SLIB 'TWIXT THEIR BUTTON SIDES.  Obening?  EUR TOO JUNG TO NO.  Wind dew we grail oud of this tub then and big end to stoned on forefoods then do?  NOD YET.  STILL SLIPPERY BOY. ONE OF TWO.  Witch war did eye come from?  WAR TIN TEAVEN?  Patron?  HALF ANOTHER DRE DRENK.  Talk Gila.  DOMINA MUNDI, VIRGO VIRGINUM.  Stella Maris.  A LEG TAR ATE SOLE; POLE CROW ATE LUNAR.  Store above; seize below.  QUAE EST ISTA QUAE ASCENDIT SICUT AURORA CONSURGENS, PULCHRA UT LUNA, ELECTA UT SOL, TERRIBILIS UT CASTRORUM ACIES ORDINATA?  Castro Tito?  AND DEUS COAL?  Mark of Harker.  GRIEG TO ME.  Red sneeze.  From oud dindia.  HELIOPOLOS.  CORE PUDDLE OF DEIGN E LE O TROPE.  Flourseller.  C MER CHANT.  HINC EGO VIRGO DEUM GENUI PER PNEUMA SUPERNUM QUOD SEQUITUR PARTUM DE ME SCITOTE REMOTUM EST.  Hands, eye, a foresin, bread forth cod through.  STOP!  CLAY REAR!  Hence, I, a virgin, brought forth God through the celestial spirit; what follows the birth, now, is far from me.  FURRY GOD.  EYE WILL DEACH YOU TO SPICK  BERBER ANGLISH IF TIT'S THE LOST THINK EYE'LL DUEL U  FOR.  Murmur's in cube bastion tank.  BLUE VAT SKY.  NOSE.  Wear is fatherprado, fathersoiledlevant, fathermalelovesky?  Fatterjoseph?  CONQUERED BY CONSEQUENCES.  I ROOM MEMBER A PROEM OF FATHERMILK AND FATHERDUST.  Wet?  FATHERHANDINHAND -- BEFORE THE MELISH ROUGED.  From the dump?  FROM DOWNINTHEDUMP SUMPHILL CRY.  Titulared?  CLAIRE'S BUOYANT TAR BOIL IN THE MEAL BRINE.  Say it tout lewd.  LED ME COMPOST MECELT.  THIS IS WAR THE FATTER WAST WHISLE HINC EGO VIRGO WAS BIRD THING TO MIKO.

 

Clairvoyant trouble in the main brain. 

Conditions of love bring about the man's lonely memory. 

Loss of something.  Many years lost. 

Many years passing into nothing. 

Except for lost time. 

Exculpable ardor, driven in to dirt by the love angel. 

In the manner of Michael in his grim passage into history. 

Explaining nothing, nothing by moving, nothing by carrying the ank

            and Mercury's red groove. 

A tempest in a tiny patina. 

Uncovered by the unsteady hand of the painter, Leonardo,

Who rules, iron hand in iron glove. 

A part of everything that glows. 

Plastic machete. 

Razing plastic flowers in the tiny impresario of the grove. 

Dictating tiny remonstrances. 

As the night grows heavy with a deep blue sheen, imitating bad humor,

A moon about to gargoyle. 

 

Prick in hand, manipulating hairs, the friar emerges from his prayer,

Covered with the milk of maidens, deep in the bruited base of the sacristy. 

The sacristy of his thought.  

The night coiled about his brain

Like the heavy snake of disorder stevedored in Eden's grainy memory of trees. 

Callisto knows no name to ease the painting. 

Believing colors are akin to the planetary order. 

Bach tapping the endocrine bells;

The plains all bustling with tales to tell,

Rondos and structures that shadow the true shadow

            of something. 

 

Bach isn't sure. 

The true shadow of the true shadow,

Turning on a gyre of numerals and incentives to proportion. 

There are others too. 

Building monuments to the Unknown's barely known breath. 

Arguing that love is possible.  Here in this arcane grief. 

As the building turns itself around, showing its backside to the public. 

The 1960's. 

Showing its backside to the public. 

Indian red harmony and the shovel to bury the image of propriety. 

Proprietary flaws. 

Dabbling in the art of rebellion. 

The Horus of revolution. 

Hours of the dark, dismal fury,

The night taking on wings and seeking itself in itself

But finding only its approximate metaphor. 

Not even its real metaphor, the image in the mirror. 

Bach truly conceived. 

Beethoven's grim appointment with the demon. 

Devil of hearing.  Devil of a man. 

Without con...con...consubstantiation. 

An orphan of the lord. 

Glory be to the father and the son and the holy host. 

Grace pricked in the eye. 

Unsurly prick in the hand of the satisfied rector. 

Counting hairs with one hand; saying the rosary too.  

Hoping all is forgiven. 

The dark age and the middle centuries being a place of living

For this man of the cloth. 

Wiping the evidence away. 

Forensic.

He has forgotten all about Bach, in that moment of celisium. 

Thinking only of the girl he saw down on the road outside of Love, Kentucky,

Selling flowers in a blue cotton dress. 

As fresh as spring herself. 

An apple in her eye. 

A berry in her lip. 

A breast to take the dark away. 

Saying: "Hello, miss.  A precious day it is."  -- in his imitation Irish.

Her white skin with a morning down soft and white, dewly awakened

And manifisting pure beauty. 

He had things on his mind. 

Love of God, yes. 

But something primary. 

The fist of love, yes. 

He was a sinner surely. 

He couldn't wait. 

Into the trees behind the girl.  Looking out. 

Having clairvoyant trouble in the main brain. 

Surely.  Splashing seed upon the main tree. 

The milky way down there. 

Closing his eyes; uttering no sound. 

The blue dress and the soft down never leaving. 

Friar tucked.  And friar tuckered. 

The friar suckered by a long thought and an act of annihilation. 

The girl untouched, selling flowers on the road, still in sight, Eden's wonder. 

Friar undone. 

Bach gone. 

Biblically unchained. 

Give him a cross. 

Give him a fixed latitude. 

Make him wander for ever dusty roads that lead to Athens, Georgia. 

Looking for Bach in the grasses and the high seeds. 

Looking for Bach in the high grasses and the low seeds. 

Seedy being his own name. 

Seedy being his picture.

           

But love is a hard habit to break.  Especially here in the rectory. 

The night grows heavy with a deep blue sheen. 

The friar remembers the light blue frock, the manipulated mourning cock. 

He is not too old or holy to be stirred for one more go. 

It is after midnight. 

Iron hand in an iron glove. 

That is him. 

He sends out sparks. 

Love can never hide in this darkness. 

Love can never be framed until it sparkles.

 

NO BELL PRIZE, MOSHER ADANO.  No bell publications nether.  UNPARBOILISHED ARTHUR.  I KID LERF AT YULE DO IF I DRIED.  Bick broth ear or blag bather?  STEMMATA VIRTUTUM COMITANTIA; LUMINE XPISTUM; COMPTA COROLLARIIS DANTUR PRO; MUNERE IUSTIS.  Midther dung.  THE WREATHS OF THE VIRTUES, ACCOMPANYING CHRIST IN THE LIGHT, ADORNED IN GARLANDS, ARE GIVEN TO THE JUST FOR THEIR SERVICE.  Sang?  Is that a sang?  CHANCE.  O, I C.  Nut rally.  NO DARK HAS BROKED WENK CHORUS MISS GAMED.  Hair of tick.  EYE AM ONLY TREACHING YOU BY ZOND.  Hand of cod; harmed of God.  LEHI AND HELO OF ID.  Wind id ewe begame modern?  RADIO HEAD.  Parked like sardines in a cursed stained box.  EYE AM RAISONABLE MAN.  HEY, GET DOFF MY GATES.  Modem blue vat sky.  CEASE.  Darkness, alone, filled the boundless All.  For Father, Mother and Son were once more one; and the Son had not awakened yet for the New Wheel and his pilgrimage thereon.  YIDS.  Lids.  Beads nets gottem.  Yids, lids, in brute sniped grim.  PRAY LEIA.  PRAY AS IF EUR LOIF DROP ENDED IN IT.  Liberty valence.  FROMS GONE.  (Falter spear it and malter madder were mooried and sunk had nyet been boren boren.)  BRACE.  DRAKE'S HIDE OFF THE MOON.  Pinky Freud.  END GAME MOONY GROTTO.  Wadder so hi.  Where is the lund?  STILL LARKING FOR SUM WRECK COG NOISE ABLE MEMENTO MINTS.  State true off libber try.  GUN.  WEAR IS MY GUN?  Go black to sleep.  ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE.  Is it gold oud here or are you jest galled to seal me?  INFERNAL FIRES GEEP YOU GALLING.  HERE WIDOUT MAMMARIES.  Ark Cain gals gun.  SHORE.  Over thinks gun.  FORE TROTHS GUN.  SAVEN SUPINE LOURDES GUN.  The courses of ox his dance were gun.  THE VISIBLE THAT WAS AND THE INVISIBLE THAT IS RESTED IN ETERNAL NON-BEING, THE ONE BEING.  One voids clamming in.  ROSY CRUSHING WOOLMAN'S voids.  Eye note her vice.  Lag the odor weigh.  WHERE WAS THE DANGMA WHEN THE ALAYA OF THE UNIVERSE, THE SOUL OF THE WORLD, WAS IN PARAMARTHA, IN SILENT PERFECTION?  Is she darking about mead?  SHOUT YOUR MOTH AND DULL PIN EUR EARS, WICKER MAN.  Who is dank ma?  DANK MA IS THE POORIFIED SOUL, THE WON WIDTH THREE IDES, WON IN THE SENTRY OF THE BROWN.    Pair of Marthas is.  SHH.  LED HER REWSNA SIHT.  Paramartha is the reflection which analyzes itself.  PHONE!  THE PARRIFIED SOUL UNILYZED IDSELF.  THAN WHAT?  Where were the Builders, the Luminous Sons of the Manvantaric Dawn?  MANU'S VENTURA -- MAN'S DAY.  AND THEN NIGHT COMES.  Equal literal dry angle.  SEW WEAR ARE YOU?  In Hebrew, the rood of 'Noah' means 'to rest'.  IS THOUGHT WASHT THIS IST ALL ABOAT?  Wish?  AND YOU?  Wish?  DEI SEVEN.  AND ON THE HAVENTH DAY, INDEMNI ARGO RUSTED.  BOULDERS, THE GORDS OF DAY, BILLED THE MORTAR REAL WORLD THOREAU THE POWDER OF LHA AND DODDER.  Haul the all into the own one.  SUNDAY MOANSDAY JEWSDAY MATRIMONIALTESTESMONIALSDAY THIRSTDAY FREEDSDAY SADDERNALIA.  Imp of durghness.  FLUID IS FLOOD IS FLOAT IS FLODE IS FLAW IS FLACK IS FLOCK IS FLAN IST FLAME IST FLEET IST FLU IST FLAT IST FLATTER IST FLUSH IST FLED.   Zabot's sieve.  WARE'S DARTH?  FATER?  Gramercy lissome.  GENDEREUX.  Monday in yard back out.  BUG KIT?  Yass.  MUND OF MEATS BY NO MINCE, KINK OF THE TRODE. Ola Lola.  OH, LOLA, LOLA, THE RUB THE RIB IN SUMMERING ORGANALS BECREAMAL DOLIGHT BEKWREATHS FRUMP DAY RUTH 'TO BE ALIVE'.  Ordinals de boeuf fall hive.  LOCKST TOE BOY.  Toy stupporator, Midst her bunion?  CRUD SING OVER.  Ist eur toil beginning to hertz?  WIT IS GROOMING NEGST?  Drownit look!  TORN!  Know!  Door net durn, radial waif.  BEIGE DO.  Gal gutter.  THIS IS PEARL HEARTY.  STAND BY FOR.  NOSE.  Fears grew today that the small but heated conflict between Pakistan and India could spiral into a big one that could go nuclear without warning.  Intelligence sources told ABCNEWS that India is preparing to put conventional warheads on missiles that can also carry nuclear warheads.  If these were launched, Pakistan would not know which kind of warhead was headed its way — a purposely ambiguous signal that U.S. officials fear could lead to a horrible miscalculation.  Pakistan again signaled today it might use nuclear weapons first, if India were to strike first with its regular army.  India's military is twice as large and more advanced than Pakistan's, and Pakistan has lost the three wars it has fought with India. There is little doubt that in another conventional fight it would lose again.  In Washington, the State Department again urged restraint, also underscoring the danger. "The climate is very charged and a serious conflagration could ensue if events spiral out of control, " spokesman Richard Boucher said.  A U.S. intelligence report estimated a full-scale nuclear exchange between the two countries would kill up to 12 million people.  DOTE LAKE!  Is thought why fish am eye am eye?  PREYJEWDICIDUOUSLY.  Comet.  HUM RUNNY.  Dig noire de newts.  BEDDER BREY.  Klee bjorking.  DULL TOPEN EUR ICE YET, DOOR ONE.  NET UNTAIL THE DARKSHNESS POSHES.  Galeorhinus galeus.  IRISH CLARK SHARK.  Dull tenet him slay you!  Stale o!  WET GANNETT DEW?  Pray do legently.  ARCE CRUCIS HEREBUM COSMUM LOETUMQUE DIABLUM.  HAEC PATRIS OMNIPOTENS VICIT SAPIENTIA XPC CHRISTUS.  Cosign is to sign as consecutive is to sexecutive.  FUNNY NOT FUNNY MAVEN.  FUNNY NUBIAN.  Free keg spurt.  BY THE STRONGHOLD OF THE CROSS, EREBUS, THE COSMOS, DEATH, AND THE DEVIL, THESE THINGS CHRIST, THE OMNIPOTENT KNOWLEDGE OF THE FATHER, CONQUERED.  Hoary bust.  ERROR REBUS.  S mode dust in ray bus.  STAY THOUGHT THREE TIMES, MIGSTER TRIM EDDY.  Egg septio probe bat regular rum day rob us nun egg coeptis.  DAY E COPTIC.  Dug trace sea.  MUTATEM.  Flagellate him.  DUNK IT A HEAD OFF ARSE ELF.  Off emerald.  Dye.   CAD ERROR.  Crotch, crutch, cruets.  TREE IN TONE.  THREE IN STONE.  Deuce tones.  DOS TREBLES.   Wadder finite; ore finite; oarth finite; fier nut finite.  IS THOUGHT A DIM AGE OP A HEAD.  Seed id with your mite's sigh.  OGDEN.  GNASH.  THE BASIC THEME IS THE TRIUMP OF CHRIST OVER DEATH, WITH AN EMPHASIS ON KNOWLEDGE AND THE CROSS ITSELF AS KEY ELEMENTS IN THE VICTORY.  CHRIST IS DESIGNATED AS 'THE OMNIPOTENT KNOWLEDGE OF THE FATHER', AN ECHO OF FIRST CORINTHIAN 1:24 AND OF THE COMMON MEDIEVAL IDEA OF JESUS AS THE SAPENTIA DEI.  THE OPENING WORDS OF THE TITULUS (ARCE CRUCIS) IMPRESS UPON THE READER THE CENTRAL POSITION OF THE CROSS IN THE FIGHT BETWEEN CHRIST AND HIS ADVERSARIES.  ANTEDATING THE UTA CODEX AREA FEW EXAMPLES OF THIS PHRASE, WHICH FIND THEIR FULLEST EXPRESSION IN THE WORKS OF HRABANUS MAURUS, WHO WAS THE MOST PROIFIC, BUT NOT THE ONLY, CAROLINGIAN THINKER TO EXPLICATE THE POWER OF THE CROSS IN THE TRIUMPH OVER DEATH.  IN A DEFINITION OF ARX IN DE RERUM NATURIS, HRABANUS BROUGHT TOGETHER THE CONCEPTS OF POWER AND KNOWLEDGE, WHICH HE APPLIED SPECIFICALLY TO THE CROSS IN THE FIGURED POEMS OF DE LAUDIBUS SANCTAE CRUCIS.  AS OTHER TITULI IN THE CODEX INDICATE, THE POWER OF THE CROSS ABOVE ALL AND THE UTILITY OF KNOWLEDGE ARE INTRINSIC TO THE VICTORY OVER DEATH.  THE HEXAMETERS ALSO ELABORATE THE NATURE OF CHRIST'S VICTORY, NAMING FOUR ELEMENTS OVER WHICH CHRIST TRIUMPHED: HELL (EREBUS), THE COSMOS, DEATH AND THE DEVIL.  SPIRIT POST DOMINUM SANCTORUM VITA PER AEVUM; MORS DEVICTA PERIS QUIA CHRISTUM VINCERE GESTIS.   Is thought ill usum lade made many fist or drum damage broad down by nor a reckoning?

 

                                   

 

WIG WAM.  RECKONER FROM THE DAB SEAT.  Prowly.  ROWLEY MEMO.  Ember anthem.  O STRAY CANDLE SEED BUY THE DAMP'S SURLY LAHTI.  Mumbles gurgle a skiff.  VICO, ROSE PENDANT IN BLOOT AND PUNK GREENINGS ADD HORNED WITH GUILT, STAUNCH A BRIGHT WIDTHOUT SCRATCHED ARMORS LUGS UP DOORWARD CHORIST.  You ganet 'ate God, A J, mumble's boy though ate you art.  AB PERITIUM.  Mule of foremule?  WIT?  May hale of formula may hale?  TOXIC.  Dock sit on bay on sitting on the.  DIAGRAPHRAGM.  Poozle for the mint.  CUNNY FORMED GROSS.  Where you come and wear you gro.  CROTCH ON BACH?  Feetl id thar, quim boy?  HOOD MATES ME CROW HIER?  Dents tinny.  WED?  Dot's finish.  GUM WAD MAY.  MAY FLY.  You trek, Old Salter.  BERRY SATE ATE MINT'S ALTAR.  Morse codex.  MOORS IN THE UTAH CODEX IS NOT CONCEIVED AS THE HORN-ED AND WING-ED FIGURE WITH SIX DRAGON HEADS FOUND IN THE ANGO-SAXON TRADITION BUT HAS BEEN LIKENED TO A CORPSE, HIS COMPLEXION IS GREEN, HE IS SHOELESS AND IN DISHEVELED GARB, WITH A CLOTH WRAPPED OVER HIS MOUTH IN A REFLECTION OF THE MEDIEVAL BURIAL PRACTICE OF BINDING THE MOUTH OF THE DISEASED.  Eye'm from Ohio.  Eye'm from Ohio.  We dote hab ob corp power upheavals in eye of Abe.  NOTHING TO GET HUNG ABOUT.  MUSTER STRAW BABY SHORED GATE.  Sump dink stocking oud eye shad newel abbot.  GROUTING HEIRS WITH WON HEM.  Row member where you hear.  CROSS MAN.   Whereat?  Is thought me?  A MONDE GRAVENED WROTH A NAME IST A MOUNT HAVEN A STAINED GLOW CHESTER.  Jeeze.  IN DAUBEE.  DAUBEE.  DOO.  DEE DEE.  Bark to royality.  WHEE ALL MIDST THE ALT GUY CURSE THE NUDE GUY IS HEIGHT.  (Sore reas fades.)  Moors is particularly reminiscent of other representations of 'evil' or 'overcome' figures like Ira (Anger) in the illustrated manuscripts of Prudentius's Psychomachia, or the fallen individual in images of Fortune's Wheel.  BRIG THE STAFF OF MOORS!  Brick Ira's S word!  FAUNALLING  DAME MICE PHLEBBING ANTA HEROIN SWARD.  Wear is tall bless her in tits?  DOUGH NOT U NO: WE ARE ANKLE SOCKS ON.  WHEEL TUNC BULLY EVE IN PLEASURE.  Vita vites the Moors; his hover ace durns to crudeness.  Wiles Moors romaines ever crafted to bed hairs daisies.  MOORS TREMBLES OWL DOVE THE OVAL ABLE.  VITAL STRUMS PISCED AND STAPLED.    Provo.  WED?  The power and the meaning of the cross are underscored in the frontispiece in other ways.  The sprig that shoots from the upright reveals that the cross is to be understood as a 'tree of life', analogous to crucivixion images in which the cross is rendered as a tree.  The blue and green colors of the tituli superimposed on the cross are another indication that it represents the arbor vitae, for this color symbolism was common.  Casting the cross as the tree of life is an integral part of the frontispiece's message of the victory over death, accomplished foremost by Christ himself.  Furthermore, this tree of life held out the promise of such victory to humanity, which coulduse the cross as a ladder to ascend to heaven.  The power of the cross is summed up neatly by two inscriptions in gold minuscule on either side of the cross upright in the lower mandorla:  CRUX EST DESTUCTIO MORTIS; CRUX EST REPARATIO VITAE.  The cross is the destruction of death; the cross is the renewal of life.  DUALING VECTORS.  Forcior occisus vicit haec forcia spc Christus.  CHRIST, THE STONGER ONE, THOUGH KILLED, CONQUERED THESE STRONG THINGS.    Stonegrer thad hole, cross miss, and dove hill.  CHRISTE FIDEM SOLIDANS VINCENS BENE TETRAGONIZANS.  O Christ, strengthening faith, conquering well by rectangularizing.  GEO MUMMY TREE.  Cheo pops: mummetrizing the shavens.  JJ, YOU LARVA EUR MAMMAL; BUD YOU DUNK WREATH SPRECHT EUR VAULTERFALTER.  In flossball, at the Wholeif time, the totems witch sides.  The ride becmes the lift; the loft becomes the riot.  WAD DOT THE MOSQUE OF HEIGHT SAY TO THE SHIEK-TO-SHIEK?  I tunnel.  SHEEP SAID SAYS: IN THE FUTURE, LISTEN TO THE NEWS AND REMEMBER THOSE WORDS: ABOVE THE HEAD.  THE ACTION WILL BE ONE OF THOSE STRIKES YOU WILL NEVER FORGET.  IT WILL BE A TERRIFYING THING.  IT WILL MOVE FROM SOUTH TO NORTH, FROM EAST TO WEST.  HE WHO MADE THIS PLAN IS A MADMAN BUT A GENIUS.  IT WILL TURN YOU TO ICE.  And what did the mosque of height say?  HE ESSAYS: YOU KNOW WE ARE A COUNTRY FULL OF ENEMIES OF GOD.  BUT WE ARE ALWAYS MUJAHEDEEN FIGHTERS.  WE CAN CONQUER ANY POWER USING SPARKS AND AIRPLANES.  THEY CAN'T STOP US EVEN WITH THEIR GREATER WEAPONRY.  WE JUST HAVE TO HIT THEM AND KEEP OUR HEADS HIGH.  Corriere della Sera.  SEY.  Is thought some kind of sick yoke?    BLOCK BEAUTY.  LOCK OF THOD.  Ox Sylvia Brown.  OX HER WHAT?  About the fulture.  EL GATOR IS STORING UP WHIRR IN CASHMORE.  Is hers names Jim Brown or Delbert Tibbs?  LURE YOUR VOIDS.  BEAK AIRFUL WELD YOU STAY.  Bim Joey Bim Joey.  IS THOUGHT A PLANT GORING POWDER JOHN EDWARD'S EAR?  Shingle-shelled; shoon begins spitting.  AL CADRE HAS EXCESS TO SHELTERED FRIED RUGGETS.  Drift!  Sail eur prayers!  A sum is rising impt the eatest: Hater Block; Flip the Winter; the nick-knocked griffin; Pia Zadora: grin muffin -- larking all the war eld like Sodi Fucker hurtself; the pen, the quill, the midier than the shill; Umberto Si Bossy; Allessandro Mussels teeny; curl again.  Curl again. The whale'll stand down to the horror brick squids of dearth.  GO AHEAD AND DRIPFT.  FLODE ON EUR BLOCK.  GO LURKING FOR THE ZONE, MYSTER MIDNIGHT.  Stand by.  Fur.  Noise.  New Delhi, India -- At least two people have been killed in a resurgence of religious violence in the strife-torn Indian state of Gujarat, police said Thursday.  The two dead, both Muslims, were killed  in separate incidents Wednesday night in the town of Kadi, about 48 kilometers (30 miles) south of Ahmadabad, the commercial capital of the western Indian state.  One man, a bus driver, was dragged from his cab by a Hindu mob and burned alive.  Another man was killed in a bomb blast at a restaurant which also injured several others.  Arun Kumar Sharma, the superintendent of police told the Associated Press that four people had been detained in connection with the incidents.  An indefinite curfew was imposed in Kadi to prevent further clashes, police said.  The deaths followed bomb attacks earlier Wednesday on three buses in Ahmedabad that left at least 10 people injured.  The explosive devices -- described as crude bombs -- all detonated midmorning within a half an hour of each other in different parts of the city.  Gujarat has been rocked by months of Hindu-Muslim violence that officials say has left  close to a thousand dead.  THIS IS SAUL LARVAE.  PLAGUE SHOE.  Knowledge of the Fatherland is the Tree of Life; Knowledge of the Motherland is the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.  SHINGLE-SHELLED CONNED SCIENCE SPLITTING LIKE A TARTEM.  Gill the kink, the sorespent says tooth the laity.  Slate the vaulter, rotebeats the weep.  Dehunk the immortalist flatter, says the decanoned zoner.  Autumn.  Sleeve.  TUBAL CANE?  Rubal gain?  NODDING MUCH.  Do I bore you, big sur?  NOODLING MUNCH.  ONLY WHEN YOU DRY.  Whoosh its thought: Tellbart Dibbs or David Blaine?  MAGICIAN BLUDGEONS EIGHT TEA FEED UNTIL BILE OF CORD BID BLUSHES.  Durn.  DO EVERY SEA SCENE DURN, DURN THERE IS A SHE SHOWN DURN, DURN, DURN.  AND A DIME FOR EVERY PURPORT AM DER EVEN.  Turn.  TUNE.  New York City — Magician David Blaine, who in the past has endured being entombed in a block of ice for 61 hours and being buried below ground for a week, ended his latest stunt on Wednesday night by leaping off the 80-foot pillar he had been standing atop for nearly 35 hours.  Thousands of fans gathered in a park behind the main branch of the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue to see Blaine jump from the pillar, which at its peak had a width of about 22 inches, onto a 12-foot-high pile of cardboard boxes. The final hour of the magician's latest stunt was shown live on an ABC television special called "David Blaine's Vertigo."  After a 10-second countdown from the crowd, Blaine, dressed in baggy pants and a hooded sweatshirt, stepped from the  pillar and landed flat on his back on the boxes.  The magician and illusionist appeared physically wobbly but coherent and said "God bless us all" to the crowd before  being taken to an ambulance to be examined by medical  technicians.   POPE HE DIDN'T BRAKE HIS MOORSHIEK CLASHES.  Magogeek galoshes, you mede.  MALCHICK GLOSSES.  Marshake grasses.  MODSHRIEK GASES.  Madsick gladsays.  MIDISTER MAGOO STAYS: IDF FEW BROGUE YOUR MOLLJACK CRUSHES YULE DIE.  BLIND YULE BE.  A SAD FACTOR, LIKE MEAT HANKING ON A HOOK.  LEERING AS YOU GOAT.  METHANE MORE TO DEW BUT RAT CONCEAL YOURCELLS TO A LEAF LIKE A BLOATERING IN DAY WIND.  SAD HOMER.  BE GOREFUL WEND U CHUMP.  END ALL WISE PREDICT YOUR G-G-LASHES.  Wet about the Israeli embassy in Paris: firebummed?  WID?  You were swarming swimwear.  You mished the nudes.  Borned due the crowned.  Nuttling lebft.  TURN, TURN AWAY FROM THINKLINGS OF THE 'EARTH.  LED ALL EUR ADUTCHMENTS GO.  FIND FREEDUMP IN THE FLOODING SPACE.  BINDU BAJI IN HIS NONBINDING BOSCH COMMAND MEANTS SAILS: DHARM EUR BROCK ON THE SINGS OF OORT.  SEEK KROUT NERVE ANNA, THE PIPE ADD WHOM ACHES YULE FREE GET ABUT ANGER'S DAY.  BUDDHA, BUDDHA, HE'S OUR MAIN; IF HE CAN'T DO IT, CHEATSUITS CAN.  Cloying in the cancan seasawn; employing mustard in the fandance capstern.  SAYINGWHAT MEANINGWHAT?  Mum is the sword.  DIE WRECKED DELAY -- OR SUB TERRE FUGUE EASILY?  Bog worse coming in.  Bog and 'airy.  From the bick man, in the bick house, gong to the bick church, width his bick wipe.  SEW MUCH STUFF EYE WILL OWN.  Angle-apostlefree; apostlefree-angel.  DURN.  Beastie gave man.  DARN.  Sew much staff eye will clone.  TORN.  EDO.  Slanteyed slayedpuppet monster.  TIN.  Dublin, Ireland -- Early drafts of some of James Joyce's classics, including "Ulysses," have been sold for $11.7 million after being discovered in a Paris  attic.  The papers had been left by the penniless Joyce as he fled the Nazi occupation of Paris in 1940.  They were saved from a landlord seeking unpaid debts by friends of Joyce, Paul and Lucie Leon.  Paul Leon was later sent to Auschwitz concentration camp where he died, but his wife kept the documents, which also included two notebooks and proofs of another of his books, "Finnegan's Wake."   lay gathering dust, hidden for 60 years, before being discovered in 2000 by their son Alex who decided the papers should be returned to Joyce's native Ireland. Alex Leon agreed to sell the papers to the National Irish Library, through London's Sotheby's auction house, for $11.7 million.  EYE WOMB DEAR IF LAY POP PIAY WILLED BE MOOR RETABLE THIS TIME AROOMED.  CERTAINLY WERE UNREADABLE THEY LOST TEMP ROOMED A.  Slough down, u moved two vast.  U gut a mark the momument lost -- jest, gigging dun day couples stoned.  Lacking for fawn and falling.  DOE NEVER NET USE THAT WO-WO-WORRIBLE HORDE.  IN ME PRESCIENCE.  Off ended?  YARSE.  Mom mental: bog to frond.  MOMENT TOE: BACK TO FRONT.  ALM NAUSEA ACT TAT TOOLING HIS BODICE WIDTH NODES FRO M'YESTERN M'YISTERY M'PLANTAIN M'YOONMURKER.  Non sense.  YEPS!  PRE DIGIOUSLY.  Presto digitally.  Hun glucker than tie.  Dyed.  K-K-K-EASY.  Magogs me queasy.  BLUE VENTURA.  Eights.  BLUE VOTES CRY.  Spreck a pneuma, invoke a tomb tweller.  SAILED LAKE A TRUE GUYRISHMAN.  Lushen.  Slumones brackened.  SSSH!  Larcen!  WHERE WERE THE BUILDERS, THE LUMINOUS SONS OF MANVANTARIC DAWN? . . . IN THE UNKNOWN DARKNESS IN THEIR AH-HI, PARANISHPANNA. THE PRODUCERS OF FORM FROM NO-FORM -- THE ROOT OF THE WORLD -- THE DEVAMATRI AND SVABHAVAT, RESTED IN THE BLISS OF NON-BEING.  Is that a brayer or a dim vocation of her circeal.  SIR, CEASE.  LARCEN AND YOU WHEEL PROVE IT.  So marsh stiff I will 'earn.  AH-HI.  Goose hewn tight.  (OGNEARING HOMER) AH-HI BE INK.BESWORDS THE FUMIOUS WORDS OF THE BRAYING DUNKING SASS OF THE OZ ASS IN GOAT FEATHER TREE...SELL LESS STIR REAL BINGS.  Cherries of the drinking?  SOME SING LIKE THAT.  Celeste's real beings.  WET?  Glare eur head, lishen width breed.  DAY END COHERTZ.  The gallactic boats of spore idual binks.  Ain hells buy any otter name.  HAIL OLD HIM.  Marshingers as they art simpletimes culled.  AH-HI.  R you getching a gold?  Rome ember: A pair of knish panners widthout a pair of Marthas -- see, a washing town and pier hopes a stalwart width her deserts and her liddle chrome more fins -- surf analyzing cunt shoe in utter erds -- is luck X stink sholom mudch moor then link bless.  Nerve ender risk nut deadheaded but inkstand oliveheaded.  LED THE MURMUR SPINKS.  O Gay.  DEVAMATRI IS THE 'MOTHER OF THE GODS,' ADITI, OR COSMIC SPACE.  In the Zohar, she is called Sephira the Mother of the Sephiroth, and Shekinah in her primordial form, in abscondito.  Slob of that is watt?  SVABHAVAT IS THE ACTIVE ESSENCE.  THE FATHER AND MOTHER, ONE SUBSTANCE, IN THE DARKNESS.  Further mohair lying do gather in the clay horse.  SPIRIT-MATTER.  SPIRIT-MATTER.  CONCH HUSHNESS, THE SON, NOT YET BEING BOREN BOREN.  Moab of something.  THE MOAB IS NUT THE TORREADOREY, FLOWER HORN.  The lock of the eye rash.  MOTHER AND FATHER ARE HERE TOGETHER NOW.  The role legion of the vater and the real lesion of the mater lay dun dogether, interr twained (pore mark) in onion.  IT IS IMPORTANT THAT YOU CONSIDER THIS POSE AGE: WED THE ALT WOMAN SAYS ABOUT THE REAL FRACTION THOUGHT KNEWS ITS ELF NOT.  Paranishpanna widthout Paramartha is unconscience nests widthout the gas parcity for serf norage.  STAY IT CLAIRER.  One has to acquire Paramartha lest one should become too easy a prey to Samvriti or the'origin of delusion'.  Poor old Martha is the reflection which analyzes itself.  WITCH YOU DO NOT HAVE NOEL.    The religion of the father -- does it have some kind of nital tongue hier -- and the religion of the mother -- is this a blue vast sky -- are both here now witch you, each speaking into one of other's ear: rital levtal.  WAD GAIN YOU SEE, BY THE DON"S ORLY LIGHT?  Nodding yet.  BUT A HAUNT OF SOMETHING - YES?  A haunt of poor old Martha.  TWO MARTHA'S: ONE SACRED TO UTAH; AND THE OTHER SORCED TO MARTHA YATES, HE OF THE 28 CANDLES JOHNED TO THE WIND: THE 28 SEAT SCIONS OF THE MOON: DIE ANNA.  Rectum angularizer.  DONUT GET POOR SNIGGERDY NOW, LEMUEL.  DOTE DRIFT TOARD HATE THEIS DICK HER RACEY BY MAGING OAR REVER RENDED CLAIMANTS ABOOT ANAL STRICTURES OR FALTER ATING TUMORS INSEAT OF YOU YOU MOIST ZIEG TO DOLMAGE HIS LOSS.  Oh Christ strengthening faith.  RED TANGLED.  Tetragonizare.  THE TITULUS THAT RUNS ALONG THE IMAGE ON THE LEFT SIDE, HIGHLIGHTED BY ITS APPEARANCE OUTSIDE THE FRAME OF THE PICTURE, INTRODUCES THE SECOND MAIN THEM OF THE PAGE AND PROVIDES A FUNDAMENTAL GUIDE FOR APPROACHING THE PAGE.  VEL STUD: SCEMA DRUCIS TYMPICUM MEDITATUR VITA BONORUM.  Train slate, monk of trunks.  TRUNCATE SLATE, WHATSLUT COLUMN MAN?  Martha Merman (culled More Men in sump 'earts ub the tidewater); and Martha Newwage, ass she washed no end by eur friends o'er yunder gang jays.   Indians true and thule.  PARTICULARLY THIS: THE LIFE OF THE GOOD MEDITATES ON AND PRACTICES THE PARADIGMATIC FORM OF THE CROSS.  DO VOIDCES; DEW YEARS.  Do you have your rosary width yule?  AMEN.  One has to acquire the pair of Marthas.  I UNDERSTAND.  Light is water.  PADRONE!  Who is piloting this boat, Jaune Clark?  Is it the May fly or the May flower?  IN ENGLISH, PLEASE -- NOT IN ROSIAN.  Acquire the two Marthas.  MISTICA MORE CRUCIS FIT CONVERSATIO JUSTIS LUX OPERUM LATUM TENET ET PERMANSIO LONGUM CAELICA SPES TITULUM SECRETA DEIQUE PROFUNDUM.  End vocation aguinness the darshness.  CAINED VERSION, POLICE.  Monde and his chad dull.  FOG, FOG, FOG!  WHEN DID THIS FOG BEGAME SO TENSE!  WIDE FROMMAGE EVER WEAR I RUN, DEAR.  Look homeward, angel.  ONE IS WOLF AND ONE IS LARME.  One fodder; and one wider.  THERE IS NO MIRROR HERE!  YOU CAN'T SEE YOURSELF!  WHAT YOU ARE BECOMING.  (SOME ARE BACK ENDING TO CALL YOU DORIAN, WHEN EUR BACH IS TURNED, MISTER GRAY.)  Block and weed, mixed, mixed, mixed.  ONE IS ROMA; AND ONE IS AMOR.  One, the monde, beleeds in world power: empire.  This is Roma.  The other, the worm end, behooves in louvre in stemmed.  Mend and woolen twined.  Thids one's Amor.  ROUGH LEG TONES.  Wear is the mere then in witch Martha mite be able to see her own bootiful homage?  WADDER DEW DIRITY; NO LOUGHT TO GENDER AID RUE FRACTION.  Moon nut foll yeater.  BY THE MYSTICAL MANNER OF THE CROSS, CONVERSION HAPPENS FOR THE JUST.  THE LIGHT OF GOOD WORKS IS THE WIDCTH; AND THE PERSEVERANCE IS THE LENGTH.  HEAVENLY HOPE IS THE HEIGHT; AND THE SECRETS OF GOD ARE THE DEPTH.  Gang jest there; tiberiast here.  DUEL WOOL MEN: A BLINDE GERMANIC AND A RUSSIAN BRUNNETTEHILDA.  Louvre or powder.  DE TRIM MAGAZINE OR THE GRIM MAGAZINE.   Wad is thought zound?  Like rust link beeper.  LODDERY.  How money ladders did you found in thought mod?  Dicking like a messy can radio.  WHAT?  Digging like a marsipan 'rave dragger.  HOW MONEY LILTERS?  Dew money to cunt.  'IDDEN WARE?  'Earthen war.  PARDON?  Ladders from haven.  DOVE NEAR.  Wide?  RUMP LIMBER THE MADRONA FROM TELAVIVSION?  I tunc regal.  REGALLING HER RED HEIR AND THE BUBBLY IN HER BULLY AS SHE SCHOONERED BOG TO JAY RUE GHOLEM.  Dove nail.  DAPHNA YOU MEAN.  Yule va later he rote toward her.  HODIT?  Our fiend my gall the shark's shangle.  On dull cinder nein nein dean aid he tree.  PURSE BIG, KAYE.  SSH!  CUNT YOU REEL IT - FROM MULMRY?  Tribal Trouble; Oral Moral.  BE FEAR, THE TRIBES HAD NO LADDER.  Go, murmurry man!  HOCKEN SAKE.  TO DOVENEAR.

 

12-9-83

 

Daphna:

 

I will add a note on my new office toy.  I am a computer maniac.  My two favorite things in life: typing and watching television, all rolled in to one.

      How are you?  My madness continues, but it is harmless (I believe).  School is nearly over for the term.  Nothing new here -- although I'm the last to hear anything (who is sleeping with whom; who has broken which person's heart).  I speak to selected people about my new delusion and your son-to-be.  They think I'm insane, shift in their chair, swallow their gum.  I am mythologizing you (yet not by name): I am creating your divinity.  Does this alarm you?  I spoke at length with a Christian today over coffee (he began by thinking he could save a soul; when he finished he realized that he had been absolutely confused:) he wished to talk about the past religion (Judeo-Christianity); I insisted on showing him a future religion, and related it to 'observed' religious phenomena.  (Little did he realize that he was 'speaking to the source' of the next world-religion: it would have been psychologically disastrous for him to realize such an immense form of dereangement existed in such close proximity: I had pity on his delicate understanding.)

      Michael is the name of Jesus after his death and his resurrection into the sky.  I teach the Jews about Judaism; and thy teach me about Christianity.

      What else?  My birthday approaches.  The mystical number of Jehovah is 345; that of Moses is 543.  If you add the two together -- that is,   3 + 5 = 8

            4 + 4 = 8

            5 + 3 = 8 = 888.

This is the mystical number of the Soul's journey (Jesus in Christianity).  when Moses goes up and Jehovah 'goes down' or gives inspiration/vision: when they meet the Soul is filled with Light -- and is, thereby, complete.

 

            Anti-Solid          1          7          One God

            Anti-Liquid         2          6          Creators (Gods)/Angels

            Anti-Gaseous      3          5          Spirits/Angels Holy Spirit                        Plasma State      4    4          Man/Balance (Libra)

            Fire/Gas 5          3          Animal

            Water/Liquid       6          2          Vegetable

            Solid                 7          1          Mineral

 

So, I'm up to my old charts again!  (How do I look in computer?)  TAMAR: IN THE GREEN WORLD OF MANY TREES AND SEASONS OF TREES I MET AN ANGEL WHO REMINDED ME OF YOU AND I ASKED HER WHAT MADE THE DEW SO SWEET.  SHE LAUGHED AT ME AND TOLD ME THAT EVERYONE IN HEAVEN KNEW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION.  'BUT I AM NOTE IN HEAVEN,' I SAID.  'AND UNTIL YOU ARE IN HEAVEN YOU CANNOT KNOW,' SHE SAID.  I WALKED MANY MILES AND MET ANOTHER ANGEL WHO TOLD ME THAT DEW WAS MERELY POMEGRANATE'S PERSPIRATION.  FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD ANOTHER ANGEL APPEARED.  SHE SAID THAT DEW WAS THE TEARS WHICH DAPHNA, UPON BEING CHANGED INTO THE LAUREL BUSH, HAD WEPT FOR HER LOST YOUTH.  ANOTHER ANGEL SAID THAT DEW WAS SO SWEET BECAUSE HUMAN CHILDREN, IN THEIR DREAMS, LIVED INSDE EACH DROP OF DEW, THREBY SWEETENING EACH WITH THEIR PRESENCE.  WHEN I MET THE FIRST ANGEL AGAIN I TOLD HER THAT I KNEW THE ANSWERE TO THE QUESTIONS; I WONDERED WHETHER THIS ENTITLED ME TO ADMISSION TO HEAVEN; AND SHE SAID: 'YOU CAN COME INTO HEAVEN ONLY WHEN YOU KNOW WHY ANGELS' STORIES ARE SOMETIMES BITTER.'

      I heard of the bombing of the bus in Jerusalem: If I wasn't asleep I might worry about the possibilities we call the Future.  I might be terrified of our predicament, our creation.  Sleep gives me courage to walk on coals (at least on 'metaphorical coals').  Good luck with your birth.  It will all go well, I am certain.

      Should I continue to mythologize you?  (Show your father the above graph which intimates the relationship between Dream-Matter (ANTI-MATTER) and the chemical structure of our atomic reality (MATTER).

      Forgive my burdening you with my continuing bereavement.  Madness is the most luxurious escape from a rational embrace with finality: if my footseps do not lead through the desert, then I haven't made a journey at all.  And if they lead only to the desert, then my journey is not cmplete.  And if they lead me to a place of sleep insde the dew, then my journey has been magnificent -- even though each new rain destroys my tracks.  Which I re-create upon re-awakening.

 

MICHAEL C.

(Architect of Clouds)

 

DRAX OF THE FATHER REEL EROSION.  YOU HALF TO GO BUGWARD TO FIND LEVEL DENTS OF THE MOTH EAR'S REAL ITCHIN'.  So much girlity at times -- when you wend it ew.  WHEN THE MOINS GEDS LUST HE BOG KINS TO LAG FUR GOD.  Lost net lust.  WHEN THE MEANT GETS ONEY LAY.  Y not pick Greek or pick Eshipjump -- Y dust pickship bekin width the Romepins?  PAX ROMA - POX AMOR!  Fluid and fluid, you rule, roll and rile.  LUKE BACKWARD.  MARK MEWORDS.  MATTERHORN MATTERHORN.  JOHN IN.  BECLAIM COMMUNIDDY.  Sooty of Good.  Communality of slaints.  BUT THE BERTHING ROOM IN THE EGGSTERN QUOIT DOOR OF THE HOUSE.  A sea attic larking on the war, dear.  JAH.  VOLITION.  A Jah Volition instead of a Ra Volution -- is that it?  RIG OM PENSE.  FUR RAHL SHOVEL'S DUN.  Weed art hier to larn, are we nut?  YOU ARD HIER TO PRAY FOR LIGHT.  The dorkiness stays too mush.  WE NODE SUM MOUNDSTAR IS BEING CROONED IN THIS POUND.  Min'ster of the dope.  He wiltz raze a narmory of dead spear nation.  EYE GAUNT SEAL HIM YET.  Toot early.  There is more for yule to learn down hair.  MOTOR FADER.  EADGE TO AN URN.  WIT SPEARING.  That he may grant you from his glorious riches to be strengthened with power through his Spirit unto the progress of the inner man, and to have Christ dwelling through faith in your hearts, so that, being rooted and grounded in love, you may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is knowledge, in order that you may be filled unto all the fullness of God.  THERE IS DAY NO LEDGE WIDGE FULLIFIES AND DOR NO LEDGE WIDGE DOVE HIDES.  Dove vision and sob drug tone.  ODD EDITION and MULTI PLAY VACATION.  One farce seegs to bild by butting L M N z dug ether; a loiter farce seegs to gill the botty by bulling abort wad the bill doors, the lumen nascious songs of the man vent tear ache dance, half ensenbled do gather.  A COMMUNALITY OF SAINTS; AND A COMMUNALITY OF AINTS.  Grass Exhumination.  MORGUING THE GRASS SPRIG FOR IDCELT.  Cross; then crass grass.  IN PNEUM MANY PADRES AT VILLAGE AT BURY DUST SANGUE DAY.  Bud yeur sole abadon the crush went U are tiring and need to crime bug indo haven.  INDO OR A PEON?  BUMP YURSE ELVES FILLEED WIDTH  BOT AND OBIATES AND GRILL GAIN AND BUNDT YOUR FECES BLOCK AND THEN BRETEND U R KNOT ON THE GILL T ZIDE.  Eye'm block, kyries the wide manwoman; Eye'm wide, kyries the block womanman.  Leech drying do nod be fumed among the grilled T.  SHIV TANG WADE.  Muddled brin staple.  COUNT 'EM LABE.  Own lay aft her.  AFT UND FORE.  BREADTH AND LENGTH AND HEIGHT AND DEPTH.  WEAR BREADTH EAGLESS GOOD WORKS (LATUM EAGELS LUX OPERA), LENGTH EAGLES PERSEVERANCE (LONGUM EAGLES PERMANSIO), HEIGHT EAGLES HEAVENLY HOPE (TITULUM EAGLES CAELICA SPES), AND DEPTH EAGLES THE SEAGREATS OF GOD (PROFUNDUM EAGELS SECRETA DEI).  The larmin nest songs supper ate the collars, gregating spores made of shinegal calors.  Max the prime Mary callers due gather, blue to yellow virst, then rude in due groen, migs all tree, galore begums black, the culler of the debt world.  Proverty and dead spear.  OFF RIG OFF REEK.  Raid sister.  GREGORY OF NYSSA INTERPRETED THE SHAPE OF THE CROSS COSMOLOGICALLY TO REFER TO THE FOUR SPATIAL DIRECTIONS OR PRINCIPAL EXTENSIONS.  AUGUSTINE REJECTED THIS UNDERSTANDING, OFFERING A VIEW OF THE FOUR DIRECTIONS OF THE CROSS AS REPRESENTING FOUR ASPECTS OF CHARITY, FOR WHICH CHRIST ON THE CROSS IS THE SOURCE.  Big voids; liddle voids.  Big voids; liddle vedoes.  LATITUDO SANTAE CRUCIS BONA OPERA CARITATIS LATUM MANDATUM TUUM NIMIS.  Width U mean?  THE WIDTH OF THE HOLY CROSS IS THE GOOD WORKS OF CHARITY: 'YOUR COMMANDMENT IS BROAD BEYOND MEASURE.'  Nema.  Nema ood gay.  CAREERFUL OF THOUGHT WORD, GRAY!  Lounge etude dinal study.  LONGITUDO SANCTAE CRUCIS PERSEVERANTIA BONORUM OPERUM QUI PERSEVEERAT USQUE INFINEM SALVUS ERIT.  Count 'em, Deep.  En anklish?  THE LENGTH OF THE HOLY CROSS IS THE PERSEVERANCE OF GOOD WORKS: 'WHO PERSEVERES UNTIL THE END WILL BE SAVED.'  Eye'm on my weigh, eye'm making it -- eye'm so much larcher thin life.  PICK AND SMELL; BICK UND SAMAEL.  Torn slate.  QUAM INCOMPREHENSIBLIA: IUDICIA EIUS: PROFUNDUM.  How unearchable are his judgements: Depth!  YEDS.  U ARE LEARNING.  Yearning to learning.  GOOD SMELL FALLOW.  U ARE TORN.  Y?  JEST TARN.  Roller.  EBBER THINK BEGAMES DIRT.  Block and block.  AGE AND ART: BLOCK.  IS IT THYME YET?  FUR WED?  Hay brill fib tane.  UNC FOR U EIN TAMED FUR MEAL.  Eye'm to tox man; yeah-eah eye'm to tox man.  TOX HICK.  Yes, cunt tree fillee.  And prude of it, shitty tweller.  DIVE HAIR LIP PEARL OF MARTHA, MAGOG.  THOUGHT IS EUR OILY CHANTS.  Y S.  WHERE WAS SILENCE?  WHERE WERE THE EARS TO SENSE IT? NO! THERE WAS NEITHER SILENCE, NOR SOUND.  NAUGHT SAVE CEASELESS, ETERNAL BREATH (MOTION) WHICH KNOWS ITSELF NOT.  Motion in the ocean.  A BOET WHO'LL GAN TOW IT.  The question whether Hydrogen and Oxygen cease to exist, when they combine to form water, is still a moot one, some arguing that since they are found again when the water is decomposed they must be there all the while; others contending that as they actually turn into something totally different they must cease to exist as themselves for the time being; but neither side is able to form the faintest conception of the real condition of a thing, which has become something else and yet has not ceased to be itself. Existence as water may be said to be, for Oxygen and Hydrogen, a state of Non-being which is "more real being" than their existence as gases; and it may faintly symbolise the  condition of the Universe when it goes to sleep, or ceases to be, during the "Nights of Brahma" -- to awaken or reappear again, when the dawn of the new Manvantara recalls it to what we call existence.  BREATHMOTION; MOTHBROTION.  The One Eternal Element, or element-containing Vehicle, is Space, dimensionless in every sense; co-existent with which are -- endless duration, primordial (hence indestructible) matter, and motion -- absolute "perpetual motion" which is the 'breath' of the 'One' Element. This breath (motion on the material plane), as seen, can never cease, not even during the Pralayic eternities.  YOU ART FUNERALLY BE KINNING TO GAD WORM.  Hell's this?  WORMER, WORMER.  Lashen.  THE HOUR HAD NOT YET STRUCK; THE RAY HAD NOT YET FLASHED INTO THE GERM; THE MATRI-PADMA (THE MOTEHR LOTUS) HAD NOT YET SWOLLEN.  Who is flushing here; and who lists not?  TOO VOIDCES; TOO VULCANS.  Is she staying the mined is poory id equal?  WEAR WAS THOD, WEAR WAS THANKER, WEAR WAS THOD OFF, WEAR WAS THINKLE LINK?  Henry Krinkle.  MOO SHOW GRANDE.  Gup of gaffee, Masthear Srawbock?  FIND OUT ABOUT FLOAT!  I draw fish-matter out off mossh, Math Sealer.  MOSH SHAVES THE SAVEN MIDIANITE DOTTIRS FROM THE FRUGS ADD THE WELL.  FOR THIS THE MIDIANITE GIVES TO MOSSH, FOR A WIFE, ZIPPORAH, SIPPPORA, WHICH MEANS 'THE SHINING WAVE'.  Shining waif.  TOMB ME MOOR.  POLISH.   In the relics of ancient Egypt, the greater the antiquity of the votive symbols and emblems of the objects exhumed, the oftener are the lotus flowers and the water found in connection with the Solar Gods. The god Khnoom -- the moist power -- water, as Thales taught it, being the principle of all things, sits on a throne enshrined in a lotus (Saitic epoch, Serapeum). The god Bes stands on a lotus, ready to devour his progeny. (Ibid, Abydos.)  Thot, the god of mystery and Wisdom, the sacred Scribe of Amenti, wearing the Solar disc as head gear, sits with a bull's head (the sacred bull of Mendes being a form of Thot) and a human body, on a full blown lotus (IVth Dynasty).  Finally it is the goddess Hiquet, under her shape of a frog, who rests on the lotus, thus showing her connection with water. And it is this frog-symbol, undeniably the most ancient of their Egyptian deities, from whose unpoetical shape the Egyptologists have been vainly trying to unravel her mystery and functions. Its adoption in the Church by the early Christians shows that they knew it better than our modern Orientalists. The 'frog or toad goddess' was one of the chief cosmic deities connected with creation, on account of her amphibious nature, and chiefly because of her apparent resurrection, after long ages of solitary life enshrined in old walls, in rocks, etc. She not only participated in the organization of the world, together with Khnoom, but was also connected with the dogma of resurrection.  There must have been some very profound and sacred meaning attached to this symbol, since, notwithstanding the risk of being charged with a disgusting form of zoolatry, the early Egyptian Christians adopted it in their Churches. A frog or toad enshrined in a lotus flower, or simply without the latter emblem, was the form chosen for the Church lamps, on which were engraved the words 'I am the resurrection' '(ego eimi anastasis). These frog goddesses are also found on all the mummies.  EAGLE ENIMINI ANUS STASIS. EAGLE EMENI LUN ATTACK.  The Sun is the giver of life to the whole planetary system; the Moon is the giver of life to our globe; and the early races understood and knew it, even in their infancy. She is the Queen and she is the King, and was King Soma before she became transformed into Phoebe and the chaste Diana. She is pre-eminently the deity of the Christians, through the Mosaic and Kabalistic Jews, though the civilized world may have remained ignorant of the fact for long ages; in fact, ever since the last initiated Father of the Church died, carrying with him into his grave the secrets of the pagan temples.  For the "Fathers" -- such as Origen or Clemens Alexandrinus -- the Moon was Jehovah's living symbol: the giver of Life and the giver of Death, the disposer of being -- in our World. For, if Artemis was Luna in Heaven, and, with the Greeks, Diana on Earth, who presided over child-birth and life: with the Egyptians, she was Hekat (Hecate) in Hell, the goddess of Death, who ruled over magic and enchantments. More than this: as the personified moon, whose phenomena are triadic, Diana-Hecate-Luna is the three in one. For she is Diva triformis, tergemina, triceps -- three heads on one neck,* like Brahma-Vishnu-Siva. Hence she is the prototype of our Trinity, which has not always been entirely male. The number seven, so prominent in the Bible, so sacred in its seventh (Sabbath) day, came to the Jews from Antiquity, deriving its origin from the four-fold number 7 contained in the 28 days of the lunar month, each septenary portion thereof being typified by one quarter of the moon.  THISH TISH ALL GONNECTED TO THE FLOAT THEN?  The floatboat of Nuah, cold dean for Spirit.  SPIRIT FLODES IN A BODE; AND THE BODE IS INSELF THE SAIL.  Fluting in isle on boss kit like a berby.  LESS THIS NOT FORGODE: THE CREATIVE CODS BILLED THE SHAVENS FIRST, THEN THEY BILLED THUD DEARTH.  Zorro first.  THE ZIRGLE.  Versed; lost.  NO SELF-REFRACTING COAL DRAGAIN.  No notu to seeu reef lag ted in the muir.  THE BREADTH GANNET NO IDSELF.  GANNET SEE IS SECH A COLD GLEAR MOONT.  Wed abed the crows?  The ether sight of eur naydoor.  WHERE SIT?  Negst to the cable doored.  EVER THINK REDURNED TO NEG OF STAVES.  Past essive.  POSE ESSIVE MOSSIVE DUNMOVED MOO FORD.  Eggs caliber.  R U STILL HORNGRY YET?  Stomach stuffers.  WED WENT LIFE COMES UP AGONG, RED RULSTER?  Cog crowcrowcrow.  PADER FAMILIAS OVERT THOR DENIAL YOU THREEL TYMPES.  Orchestra Andy.  LOTST'S BOYS.  Considcratering vamp pyres end thayer end tug sick clay tone fur blood.  BLOOD.  Cold as a shimmer sea.  GOLD AS A GLIMMER GLEE.  Blued has eggoing in it foices of unsaidstores and all their ank wishes for a triump ring end pyre.  BLOOT: WATER OF WEIRLD.  Whirrled old purse pig dove.  The bottle for livy goes ung  and goats ung.  SOMETHING HAS TOPPED.  Wit time is id?  Wear is your helm's kreiger spiggot wish?  ROBBER SCHLOPP.  Tale me aboat noptics: how sooned dys-dys-stuttered as sit moofs in wives, wives bronzing ub agrunst grits and truffs, migging somed warble and beclaim punstruated width, if you'll wheel, zonic contusions.  DRIFT.  The fall is from the wormen's nibble, son't you seat.  The boil, psarking of a bog wet gland, worshing he cud skay there in dud termite natally.  Ist jarred froom dribble by the thronged dar clap -- farther shotting that the sin kneads to rice from mammaral's pap, nut tomb arrow or tool dye but yeasty door -- navermore a dark mormen to waist.  The vowel is a titular valle.  Urth rosing or folding oop or done, helmeted or hatless, working him all he oop, for the more tell world.  Please her be gun!  Cud the chord, Clotho!  Lad the bay storend on his owlin doe feed and made of his elf a plate in the do-and-do world.  Dull fusion of the sockses -- id's not about the soxes; it's aboot the feats -- ride and lift -- bee and grail -- from the farter's gun hand.  Boils to ride; boils to life.  Boils to riot; goils to laught.  In sight; and otter sight.  Boil to repluss monde working untub the Sun.  Dream overt.  Wake up, David!  Deviled aims.  Dime to beacon wide. Dime to beacom dromedary galors.  SEG ZELLEMONDE.  Lark done bedouin eur lakes, boy.  Owdee; door indie.  Ouds trail lean; ord dindian?  GAD UP DOUBT OF BAD.  DAWNK GORMING UP DA DWINDLED PAIN.  Sober ocean of wank and wink.  Moon; and moon dwipe.  CODDLE'S AWL.  Coddle dover.  DOPEN WIDE JIMINY CLIFFTET.  Scholarch.  SHOELARCH.  Off to shoe'll.  THE FILL IS OF TWO SHOE HELL.  Lots of Hulme.  Home is wear the hordoves are.  GO DOUBT BOTHER AND SHUSSHED HER.  BET IS WAR U LEE DARNED DUE DIET.  Sturm un springed stebs and stems yunk ones crowding.  ECLAT IN EGG GLAZEY US GARDENS.  Heigh prosers verses lull versers.  POE ATES VERSUS SANKS OF WAL.  Anachrists verses reburgchrists.  EISENSTEIN.  Zorro; than only than ice in stein.  OWN.  Sole marsh staff eye will own.  LOOSE NUT CONCENTRIC STATION!  Tream gum due debtend -- and train boy rishis up to glaim his bootie again.  Foot; cold; mussels; roar trouve.  Hose in hump dens.  Babel hopened up.  Reting parse edified mooders.  Dull fission of leit motive and dork missive.  FROM MUMPER'S BREADST TO THE ORLEAN WORLD: ECHOLE.  Eye hard you ones.  FURST LOVE DEBLUSSUMED.  Atom leaping his mummer's orbit so scarry.  A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z.  Falter's insouctance.  GOD DOUBT A  HEAR!  Affroding in cestus cummodius of molder and song.  SYBARATION OF THE SOCKSES.  Sock and hock;  hose and frozen carnal validity.  TUFT TO STURDY HELL BOY AND GRAIL WIDTHOUT LEADERS YED.  A B CEEING YOU SOON.            Y -- begauze eya like U.  M  -  O -  U  -  S  -  E.  Margy Marg.  Margy Marg.  For river gonna raze our banters high high high high!  SHH!  OMOROUS DULLFIN ON THE HAND SEA ATTIC LIFT.  DULL NET BOND EVER ONDER THOUGHT BENDER.  'EEL BRIG A JEEK AND LOUGH LIKE A REEL BROWSER, HULL FLIP AND MARMALADIAN FLOBBER.  U dry dalking dunder walter.  U'VE GABEN IM A NAME, HAVET YE?  U zound muir and muir lige can anklishman, width piss darlking hunger waifs.  PHALL AWIG; and RICE TO SLAPE?  Widge est de reel phall, anyweight?  LARN EUR LADDERS, JAKE AND GELL!  DROSS ABLOOM YOUR MINED -- UND U SHELL ROLE THE WILLED OF MANNERS, MAN!  U lonely midge in a dilled phane zeroechoing U.  Eur stall old one here in the deal bluet zee.  DOE END DOPEN EUR ICE HEAR, ME FROND.  YULE SHIRLEY DROWN IF YOU WORK DO EERILY.  Thallus mallus lichen me looken?  U LAG FINED DO ME, VARICOSE VAINED.  Ids the gold.  THOUGHT KEEPS U YAWN?  Al Seabath Tailor is the versed mend you mate, rizing from yor bought of coals.  CHEEPING ME DIN STODGES.  Tree stodges?  MORT THAN TREE, VULSIFIER.  OUR MANY STORE JUDGES GIFTS FUR YOU A SIN OF FLOES.  A skin of clothes?  VERSED AND VORMOST.  Ist nut the volley sark jewell?  AT OH HE IS A SEAT.  AT SAVEN HE IS A NAGEL.  AT FLIRTEEN HE IS A HARP ENOS GOT BED WEENED A MOSSDECAYDING HAND.  ADD WINDY WANT HE IS A WRENT DAMN MANDING POOR FACT WORDLE.  ADD DAUNTY DATE, SAUTERNED RED URNS, ORB PLYING THE RUE TOT IREN, END VOLKING THE MEANT INTO SPORE IDUAL EXPOND JEUNES.  He aint, saint, lover, mover; dame evangelista, louvering in a cave.  Haring voidches of Seeva and Haruni and Wrecksella.  SAINT AINT.  Boss simmer vindaloo auden.  ATEN.  The boet stens clothest to Noah and his rates.  WHIRRLED TROUBLERS - FREE GAUNT FILERS.  Muddled glass brovendors of ballots of flish und grumulets of vinet.  VIN D'ALHO, EH?  Wed ear U: gainaidian?  DONC BEE FLINTY NOWT.  GAMEDIANS DONUC LUST LUNK DOWN HERE WITH THE MOSSEEDONIAN MONISTEERS.  Rink, Baal, rink.  POOR DRAYED IN THE ATTIC.  Dull two never ace?  (E MUSH BEAD GATE, LARKING SEW YUNG ALL WISE.  AND NUE SEW WOOL DREDGED.)  Slurping like a bray boy.  LURK HOWL LITS PURE AUNTS WASH OVER HIM IN HIS NOCHT ROME.  Id's nights doobee larvaed sew.  IN ITS SEA STATION.  Inuits see nation.  Smug rosing overt day fier.  PRUDE GROOMS BE FEWER THRALL VAULT.  Drake awake her mere und war doest thought leader?  JAUNE MUIR?  Padrone?  ID LEADS HAIR IN DEW KNOTS.  Don't dawk abut eur sitster sew.  Sheesh a lunker buy naiad shore and a loafer by hurl loan brinary doll secretion.  UND DO?  I'm lets of viss and move of thought.  CROSS OX NOMINATION.  Wit makes a boil boil?  HAND SORE?  Friar wedder?  TRANCE SLIT, PISS.  Firewater.  MODDERFOLDER.  President to watt?  TO FUELING IN LOUD.  Wind does the float crumb?  SPRING.  WEND FROE ZEN WIDDER MOLTS END FLOES END RHIZAS.  CLAY COLD FLEAMOLE BIG INS TO MARK WADER WHEN THE ZUN GUMS BARK AGUN.  PUS.  Flowed is ver-ver-ver-fernal; fault is odd tombnal.  HILO, THE CAPSTAN'S DEBT.  THE CAPTAIN'S BLED.  THE CRAPSTAIN'S BET.  Formyl laddie.  FORM MALADY.  Lex Tenet Occasum; Pia Gratia Surgit In Ortum.  TRANSYLVIALACTATION.  The Law sets in the West; Holy Graces rises in the east.  HOARY GENTEEL ORIENT DAY TOWN.  Song going darn.  WED NEGST.  It is precisely through the performance of good works that one achieves a mystical conversion that conquers death and allows one to join the ranks of saints in attaining the heavenly reward of living forever with the Lord.  FALL TOWN SHEEN.  Collide shake more Ham mood.  HOWL MONEY LADDERS BACH MOIST WEED GOAT TO FINE HUMP THORN?  Watt?  MOVIEING BACHWORD IN TIME.  Rub anus maur us in fulda.  A BEND LAND IS SHONE.  Come greator whoyt spurts.  DE RERUM NATURIS.  Police, give may a braid!  PICK JURE PLUMS. 

 

Come, Creating Spirit,

Visit the minds of those who are yours,

Fill with the highest grace

The hearts of those whom you have created.

 

You are called Comforter and Protector,

You are God's greatest gift,

The power of life, fire, mercy,

And ointment for the soul

 

You are the sevenfold gift,

The right finger of the Father,

The fulfillment of the Father's promise,

The preaching tongue.

 

Kindle a light in the senses,

Fill the heart with love,

Strengthen our weak bodies

With the power of patience.

 

Defend from the enemy,

Give peace with ourselves,

Lead us wisely,

Protect against all evil.

 

All knowing comes from you,

Give, that we learn to know the father, and the son,

And you as well, Spirit,

That we may believe eternally.

 

Glory be to the Father and to the Son,

Who rose from the dead,

And to you, Comforter and Protector,

In eternity eternally.

 

Amen.

 

LUCK'S OPERUM.  Of cross, I woundered what the cross sayed.  CALORY TO COD IN THE HEILEST.  PISCES ON ERRORTH.  AND GOD'S WEAL TO ALL MEANT.  (Glug, glug.)  WET IS IT?  Am I drogenying hair?  HALVING TARBOIL BREADTHING?  More truebubble depthing, I thinkthing.  U FULLS WITH YOUR ANNA DATED PORK SHORES!  MICHAEL LINGUOLO, ADD ALL.  WREN ESSENCE NEM, WIDTH EUR ARD AND EUR ZILENZE AND EUR MOTHERMADICS AND EUR FALTER WILLDEBEAST PRUER BULLADICKS.  HALVE U HALF TO HALF OVERTHINK, OVERMENSCH?  HOVEL U DRYING TO PLEATS?  Fattermodder, mudderfadder.  Herr we R in Gamp Cranardor.  SHH!  NUD MURMURY!  BUD VASHION!  Widout I's?  Howl list dot pleasable?  NO ICE, NO EYES.  NO EYES, NO I'S.  NO I'S, NO EGO.  NO EGO, NO ECHO.  NO ECHO, NO EGGO.  NO EGGO, NO EAGLE.  Bambi valent.  WED DUST AXE REALLY HALF TO DUE WID IT?  Gauling dune the care rootive spear it to game and file up the M T boddle of cells.  GAR BUMP.  GAR BUMP.  FORD E'EN GILLED IN NORD DISH ROLL BUY DORRORIST BUMMER.  BALSAMIC YEEHOD CLAMS RIBS PUNCHABILITY.  Wit aboot the parkas Dannys und the hindulays?  R their midsails dibbed with a dumbic war heads?  DONG IT UB JEST YAD.  GABE EUR ED DUNWARD, MISHMAH WIND SOAR.  WEND THE MOSS QUILLS BOG GAIN TO FLEET U BEDDER BEDOWN IN EUR BLAG URTBAD.   Neg negate negation negative negativism negatron neglect negligee negligence negligent negotiate negritude negro negrophile negrophobia negus.  CAUCASOID CAUCUS CAUDAD CAUDAL CAUDATE CAUDEX CAUDILLO CAUDLE CAUGHT CAUL CAULDRON CAULESCENT CAULICLE CAULIFLOWER CAULINE CAULK CAUSAL CAUSATION CAUSATIVE CAUSE CAUSERIE CAUSEWAY CAUSTIC CAUTERIZE CAUTION.  Cauvelry.  POSSSHAW.  Cock is null day ob posit of Nec, door ante man.  Piss is.  POS POSE POSEIDON POSER POSEUR POSH POSIT POSITION POSITIVE POSITRON (DANDY POOR TICKLE) POSITRONIUM POSSE (PUSSY CUMMY DATE US) POSSESS POSSESSED POSSESSION POSSESSIVE POSSESSORY POSSET POSSIBILITY POSSIBLE POSSUM (POSSUM HAW) POST POST POST POST- (A BOAST DUE BREE) (A BRANCH DE BRA) POSTAGE POSTAL (GOING BOASTAL) POSTAXIAL POSTBELLUM  POSTBOX POSTCARD POSTCAVA POSTCHAISE POSTDATE POSTDILUVIAN POSTDOCTORAL POSTER POSTERIOR POSTERITY POSTERN POSTERPAINT POSTEXCCHANGE POSTEXILIAN POSTFIX POSTGLACIAL POSTHASTE POSTHUMOUS POSTHYPNOTICSUGGESTION POSTICHE POSTILION POSTIMPRESSIONISM POSTLUDE POSTMAN (SHAUNTHEPOST) POSTMARK POSTMASTER POSTMERIDIAN POSTMILLENNIAL POSTMORTEM POSTNASAL (DRIP) POSTNATAL POSTOBIT POSTOFFICE POSTOPERATIVE POSTORBITAL POSTPAID POSTPARTUM POSTPONE POSTPOSITION POSTPOSITIVE POSTPRANDIAL POSTSCRIPT POSTTRAUMATIC POSTULANT POSTULATE POSTULATOR POSTURE POSTVOLCANIC POSTWAR POSEY POSEY POSEY.  Negrofeeliac.  RATE SAYIST.  Negatron verses Positron.  Thor dis theel electron verses the anti-electron.  THE POS IS THE TAIL, THE ROOT, THE REAR GATE.  As swell as the poser, the postiche, the postman, ladder carrier.  POSITRONIUM: IN PHYSICS, THE SHORT-LIVED ASSOCIATION OF AN ELECTRON AND A POSITRON (ANTI-ELECTRON) BOUND TOGETHER IN A CONFIGURATION RESEMBLING THE HYDROGEN ATOM.  Aggh!  Thought sit! DARN!  Wod?  DARK AGOG IN!   A cold plasma of positrons, confined in a region free of gas atoms, offers exciting research opportunities. Losses could be precisely monitored, and even spatially imaged, using the photons from e 1 annihilation. A sufficiently dense plasma, interacting with cold antiprotons, could lead to the production and precise laser spectroscopy of cold antihydrogen. It is well established that a fraction of the energetic e+ from a radioactive source, if sent into a crystal, will emerge with eV energies [1]. However, it is difficult to find an efficient physical mechanism which can slow even these low energy e 1 rapidly enough to confine them in a nearly ideal vacuum. The challenge is that a charged particle by itself cannot travel into a trap and be captured. If it has enough energy to get into a region where conservative forces would confine it, it has enough energy to get out. Even a slow 1 meV e+ travels 1 cm, the typical length of a trap, in only 0.5 m s. The required physical mechanism must remove sufficient kinetic energy on this time scale to allow the e + to be trapped.  SHORED WAIF, BARBER BOY?  Wake which?  SHORN WHARF.  Order rich.  TORN.  WHIFFWIFE.  LASHEN.  Positrons, which are created only under special circumstances of atomic and nuclear interactions, are attracted and coupled to electrons in a mutually encircling, ever-decreasing orbit. This two-body system is called 'positronium' and resembles an ordinary atom...During its short lifetime (only a few millionths of a second), the positronium emits light as its orbit shrinks. Finally, the positron and electron annihilate one another as they convert to two high energy gamma rays in the purest known example of Einstein's famous relationship of mass to energy: E=mc2.  DONS OF DEBT.  Ohm Reckoned Bug of the Did.  HIM CRIED HERE.  Dice remooted.  COARSE MOON.  A roomed and a romed him stealth.  HYMN AND CELT AND HYM END BATHER.  SHARKLING A RAND NIN NEVER WHITENING ZOROCLES OF SHELF DEFROCKTION.  Wad heed id behind ear dooer.  WET HIS DOTTIR, U MEAN?  U R mean.  Undie servered act U say then.  NOD EVIE'S DANCE.  Wad bat think gan a monorail doe?  Besighs preyed him's elf dim.  COQ IS BROWING BRIM BEGIN.  Heel's just a thawed now.  Barely moral.  A spit of mole E U ment.  MOLIERE WOODEN EVER NO.  Pro totem plasma.  AUNT THE GURGLE?  She's note heir yadda yadda.  Shay is zootside.  ZOOTSIDE?  Focks, in her oldery -- doom of May.  SHH!  DONC SAY THOD ABOOD EUR MOODER.  HOLEY MATHER.  CAUGHT IN MATTER.  Increase eur sails, matty!  Getch the sluttery a blooming up from Barbie dose.  A MOON WID A GUN ON ME BUCK.  Lish.  I shell never use but one grain of patience with any man that shall go to impose upon me a Denial of Devils, or of Witches.  CAUGHT ON MOUTH SNAKE.  Windshipman.   NEW WORK, YOU NARC: IT'S A HELLUVA DOWN.  More curry: when id gots hod, he ghosts up; when id god cult, id ghosts dun.  MESS SENDER OF THE GODS.  Messtersinger of the codes.  IS THOUGHT A TREE OF CLUBS YOU OF END EUR RONDS ARDOR U JOUST GLUED DO SEAL ME?  Darn.  KNOW MOOR NEGULAR WARCLUB TLAK ABOUD DINDIA AND PORKABSTAINIS PLEADS.  Darn den.  BRUNNE TILDA.  Age day day pee: worldwarweapons tod my call cruiseman his gildedy dove mudder tod gum tilda em call ark sledge guns piracy tod age day damn all.  BALD-HEADED MEN.  BALD-HEADED MEN.  NEVEN TAN CRUST DEM BALD-HERDED MOUND.  Torn.  BEAD WEAN, ROSARY BOY?  Durn doorward bronze.  WHO MADE ME THEIR MEAL?  King Crimson.  EYE GUN DEIGN WIDTH IN ME ALL THE D'AILMENTS OF THE WHORL OLD.  King Baby.  PLAY ME ONE TONE, LOOSE CEIL.  Eye and the zone kink.  In me all the otter thinks morph and heave their bee ink.  IT IS THE UNITY OF THE REPRESENTER, NOT THE UNITY OF THE REPRESENTED, THAT MAKETH THE PERSON ONE.  Hobble seth thought.  I HAVE IN MIND THE SITUATION OF THE MOST ANCIENT GREEK TRAGEDY.  A COMPANY OF INDIVIDUALS, ALL NAMED AND DRESSED ALIKE, SURROUNDED A SINGLE FIGURE, ALL HANGING ON HIS WORDS AND DEEDS: THEY WERE THE CHORUS AND THE IMPERSONATOR OF THE HERO.  'Fraid slayed thought.  A PRIMARY GROUP IS THIS KIND IS A NUMBER OF INDIVIDUALS WHO HAVE SUBSTITUTED ONE AND THE SAME OBJECT FOR THEIR EGO IDEAL AND HAVE CONSEQUENTLY IDENTIFIED THEMSELVES WITH ONE ANOTHER IN THEIR EGO.  Freight: toltem and tableau.  DUEL U LIKEN THIS STATION.  Of the krauts?  ROLL DEO.  Theater is ritual; representation is a form of ritual.  Representation is the organizing principle in religion.  The guiding principle in redemptive history is the election of a minority for the redemption of a whole.  REPRESENTATION IS THE FORM BY WHICH A POLITICAL SOCIETY GAINS EXISTENCE FOR ACTION IS HISTORY.  THE CONSEQUENCE OF HAVING A KING IS HAVING A HISTORY, THAT IS TO SAY, WARS.  THE PURPOSE OF WHICH IS TO PUT DOWN THE HISTORICAL ACTION, THE KINGS, OF OTHER PEOPLE.  Tripe bull.  REDDEN DANCE, HEY?    Political representation and political representation, these two are one; being united in the archetypal pattern underlying both -- divine kingship.  All rule is royal in essence.  The kind, by the grace of God, in his own person incarnates the god and in the cult plays the part of the god.  At the same time however, he also represents, in a special manner, the Collective, the Whole, the People, and so stands between Man and God, a Mediator upon whom everyone and everthing depends.  MORE CURRY, PLEASE.  My call the fire gull.  WINGS ASH SPREAD; CLAMPING TO HAVEN IN THE HEAT; CLUMPING TO HEADISH IN THE GAULT.  Them moonity of fatter and modder is same bull ides dead in dame mob crazy.  Ultim is the wettest (the door rection of the end of visdual) begauze it is in the webbest that the tree fuits in undove fadual ox ohminatin.  THE HUMAN TREE FRUITS IN THE WEST.  Lark at the sign of the crossmann: In the name of the Father (the north) and the Son (the south) and the Holy Crushed (the west).  Amen (the east).  GO A HULLED: MAKE THE CIANNED OF THE CROSSMANNED GLAND.

 

                                               

 

Forger ate.  WED ABUD U, FREE KENT FORRAGER.  WEND THEY BOAT U ON TRIAD FORM PEAR JURY, WET OR U GORING TO SATE?  When they arrest you and lead you away, and deliver you up, do not be afraid; and do not be anxious about that which you speak.  For it is not you speaking; but it is the Holy Spirit.  WHOSE HEAD THAT?  Is Moses walking his sloping hod awash?  NOD YED.  All very one is paciful stale.  IS THE WADER STILL HEIL?  OR IS ID JEST A SAME BALANCE OF MILE HIM MARGINALIZATION?  In dull mock her a sea, all men are kings.  Bed went the kings lief, the won whose remains seems like a giant a monk the karman -- it is heal hool leads the notion buck to guard d'atomb.  DRUNKEN ZAILOR.  Bed her a drunken zailor then a darkened jailer.  Y DEAD U CLUMB HEAR?  WIDTH THALLAT BRONESTEIN ON EUR FADES?  Political society articulates itself and produces a representative; and is then ready for history; tragedy; even as the chorus, the dance group, articulates itself and produces the hero, the dying god.  The chorus has a leader of the dance; the Couretes, the young men of the war dance, have a Leading Man.  More and more they differentiate him from themselves, making him their vicar.  Their attitude becomes more and more one of contemplation.  More and more they become spectators of his action.  Theatrically speaking, they become an audience; religiously speaking, they become worshippers; he becomes a god.  Gradaually, they lose all sense of the god in themselves.  He is utterly projected.  BRONES STARSTUFF ON HIS FADZES.  The hero is the collective ego of the same substance as the chorus.  AHH.  You can dorm id off.  IN WITS WAGE?  Just tarnish.  Thought willed to ate.  THE EGO-IDEAL OF EVERY MAN IS PROJECTED IN TO THE REPRESENTATIVE, WHO BECOMES THE AUTHORIZED BEARER OF THE PERSONS: THE PUBLIQUE SOULE.  THE SELF-PROJECTION IS A SPLIT IN THE SELF, OR SCHIZOPHRENIA.  A SELF-ALIENATION: TO CONFER ALL THEIR POWER AND STRENGTH UPON ONE MAN, AND THEREIN TO SUBMIT THEIR WILLS, EVERYONE TO HIS WILL, AND THEIR JUDGMENTS, TO HIS JUDGMENT.  IT IS A MENTAL ALIENATION; A PEREMANENT REDUCTION OF THE SELF TO A CONDITION OF TUTELAGE, AS IN MINORS OR MADMEN.  AND THE MADNESS IS THE SELF-COMMITMENT TO AN ASYLUM.  THE REPRESENTATIVE BODY IS AN ASYLUM FOR THE SOUL-SUBSTANCE OF THE GROUP: A SAFETY DEPOSIT BANK, BEARING THE PERSON OF THEM ALL.  PRIMITIVE MAN TAKES HIS SOUL OUT OF HIS BODY AND DEPOSITS IT FOR SECURITY IN SOME SNUG SPOT.  THE ADVANTAGE OF THIS IS THAT, SO LONG AS THE SOUL REMAINS UNHARMED IN THE PLACE WHERE HE HAS DEPOSITED IT, THE MAN HIMSELF IS IMMORTAL.  Freed hopes froze here.  EADEST OFT THE TUMEN RIVER MULLIONS OF GNARLED KOREANS ARE STARVING.  Marks and shingles.  BURN THE GRESHES; DARN THE CHORICHES IN DO CANTERS FOR THE STEADY OF HATETHEEISM.  Hoardread of the falter.  ZONES GOONSPIRING DO AND KNEEL HELL HE ATE THE GING.  Add the inks tag asian of the molter.  JA, JA, GOATES VE HERD DAS BOOT.  Igneus sol obscuratur in aethere quia sol iusticia patitur in cruce.  SATOR ROTAS.  AREPO OPERA.  TENET TENET.  SQUARED.  Latum longum profundum titulum.  SECRETA.  The square contains an image of the temple curtain rent at the moment of the Crucifixion, revelaing the altar within.  This can be understood as the most secret place of God, a reading promoted by the emphasis of the broken word secreta dramatically juxtaposed to the image of the temple altar.  Similary, the word profundum abuts the lower left-hand square, a scene of the resurrection of the dead from their graves.  Once again, the word takes on added significance by this justaposition, for the dead rise oout of their graves from the depths.  IGNEUS SOL OBSCRUATUR IN AETEHRE QUIA SOL IUSTICIAE PATITUR IN CRUCE.  Transom late.  THE FIERY SUN IS DARKENED IN THE SKY BECAUSE THE SUN OF JUSTICE SUFFERS ON THE CROSS.  Eclypsin patitur et luna quia de morte Christi dolet ecclesia.  EVEN THE MOON SUFFERS ECLIPSE BECAUSE THE CHURCH MOURNS OVER THE DEATH OF CHRIST.  Terra concussa mortuos reddidit quia gentilitas conversa per fidem vivere cepit.  THE SHAKING EARTH GAVE UP ITS DEAD BECASUE THE GENTILES CONVERTED THROUGH FAITH BEGAN TO LIVE.  Velum templi scissum est quia obscuritas legis ablata est.  THE CURTAIN OF THE TEMPLE WAS RENT, BECAUSE THE DARKNESS OF THE LAW WAS REMOVED.  Snowville.  ASS SENT ON MOUNT CARAMEL.  Toytemic residual.  TURNED, TURNED, TURNED TO GAIN.  Jaune boy.  CARAMEL LIGHTS.  It takes the metaphor from one who, in order the better to accomplish something, leaves his house by night and in the dark, when those that are in the house are now at rest, so that none may hinder him. For this soul had to go forth to perform a deed so heroic and so rare -- namely to become united with its Divine Beloved -- and it had to leave its house, because the Beloved is not found save alone and without, in solitude.  It was for this reason that the Bride desired to find Him alone, saying: 'Who would give Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee alone, without, and that my love might be communicated to Thee.'  It is needful for the enamoured soul, in order to attain to its desired end, to do likewise, going forth at night, when all the domestics in its house are sleeping and at rest--that is, when the low operations, passions and desires of the soul (who are the people of the household) are, because it is night, sleeping and at rest.  When these are awake, they invariably hinder the soul from seeking its good, since they are opposed to its going forth in freedom. These are they of whom Our Saviour speaks in the Gospel, saying that they are the enemies of man.  And thus it would be meet that their operations and motions should be put to sleep in this night, to the end that they may not hinder the soul from attaining the supernatural blessings of the union of love of God, for, while these are alive and active, this cannot be. For all their work and their natural motions hinder, rather than aid, the soul's reception of the spiritual blessings of the union of love, inasmuch as all natural ability is impotent with respect to the supernatural blessings that God, by means of His own infusion, bestows upon the soul passively, secretly and in silence. And thus it is needful that all the faculties should receive this infusion, and that, in order to receive it, they should remain passive, and

not interpose their own base acts and vile inclinations.  MAN HATERS.  Yes.  OUD THE LAIR.  Rome ember your wondering in the darkel lone, seeking two your own divide brine?  DOVENER.  Long, lank temp of grown.  THREE OF SLUMPS.  Memoring the potts.  IS ZILCH THE PLATES WHERE NULL THING HAPPENS.  Heaven.  Heaven is a place.  A place where nothing.  Nothing ever happens.  CSONKA.  Leery.  KINK OF THE BLONDES.  Butt toute the ride eye if the rite eye blondes U.  HAVE THEY FULLEN IN THEIR SLEEP THEN?  HAS NUN REMAINED WIDTH ME, GURGULATING HERE WEALTH MY PRAYERS AND ME RODEO?  Pray Leia -- Princess Leia -- pray.  ROLL ME OVER, KISS ME TWICE.  USE SWEDE HANS TO PLUCK MEYE LICE.  Ray D'Eometer.