Reaffirmations for Summer 2020: Idealism and Distress.

You know: when you talk about Idealism, you’re talking about just how great and awesome Life would be if only everyone did just a little more. A little here, a little there. To be a little bit more open, or a little bit more kind. To work a little harder, so that those who have to pick up lots of slack enjoy a life that’s easier by far than what they would have had to do instead. Usually, the Idealists are the sorts of people who WOULD do all these things, and they often have to push themselves so much each day to make things work for those around them. Since the Idealists often excel in these qualities, it is predictable that those who fall behind might grow envious of them, and if those shortcomings might be rationalized and recast as virtues, the Idealist might even be portrayed as intrusive. Yet one conceit which is entirely beyond justification is the accusation of self-interest. It may be true that such a change as the Idealist envisions would be of inestimable relief to one’s Self, which stands to benefit by a far greater margin than those who disadvantage themselves ever so slightly. Yet the simple fact that their disadvantage is so minor and the Idealist’s advantage is so great is precisely what renders the transformation Just, for such a set of affairs may only come to pass when, up until this time, the Idealist has had to shoulder an unreasonable burden on behalf of the average person.

[({Dm.A.A.)}]

The Damsel in Distress is one of the oldest archetypes for a reason, since she represents the birth of the boy’s moral development. She presents him with a challenge: given power over a helpless embodiment of femininity, one doubling as sex object and mother figure, he has the choice whether to inflict harm or healing. While boys who grow up on hero myths might easily inherit a feeling of entitlement to those whom they rescue, the deal works, since the rescue is executed and the greater evil assuaged by the Hero, however self-interested the intent.

The simple act of choosing heroism over exploitation is an exercise in self-restraint, courage, and conviction, all invariably heroic qualities, not because they cannot be corrupted towards ill ends, but rather because higher goals cannot be attained without them, and these higher goals are not mere pretensions but rather expressions of the longings of the most piteous and helpless victims.

The Damsel in Distress is not disgraced by her powerlessness, since most often it is the fate of those possessing a more mysterious power: that of vulnerability and innocence. The Damsel in Distress redeems the Hero’s cumbersome and heavy-handed masculinity, but only by being totally vulnerable to him, grotesque though this predicament might appear, and rightfully so, for it was produced by the exploitative means of her villainous captor. The very distinction between the role of captor and liberator, by one’s own choice, establishes the boy as a man, superior in dignity.

At that point, though, the challenge falls to the maiden, for she undergoes the same sort of transformation. If she feels no debt of gratitude towards him, or, feeling it, she acts against it, she has remained a girl, a child of the Universe, entitled to her own innocence but not much else. Her rescuer is like a Father Figure to her, whose love must be unconditional by default, so that she owes him nothing in return, and if he should argue otherwise, he becomes a tyrannical abuser, no better than her ogrish captors.

In this context, it is no surprise if she should seek the company of her fellow girls, who coddle her and assure her that, since she was innocent to begin with, she owes her savior nothing, for he was simply preserving the Natural Order of Things, and, if his intent were self-interested, then she ought to be commended for deceiving him towards beneficent means, and the test of his character will ultimately lie in his absence of personal passion, regardless of whether such a feeling of entitlement would precede or follow the Heroic Act. 

Yet clearly such a matriarchal conceit does not live up to the ideals of any Goddess of Justice, for it forces all men to renounce their own bodies completely in service to weak women, feeble and restrained not only of body but of Heart and Mind, the latter by their own Nature and Volition, disincentivizing many men and producing not only more villains but, among women, a greater tolerance for villainous, barbaric “men” without “creepy” ulterior agendas.

It should be obvious, however, that such agendas represent not so much a hidden evil but a biological longing for moral order, one which redeems the human body as a Source of Moral Authority. The woman who rewards her Saviour with Love becomes akin to a Goddess in her own right, whereas the other remains a temptress and a child. Just as the boy who takes advantage of the Damsel fails a test of Manhood, the girl who does not honour his sacrifice fails to mature into a Woman. Their reciprocity is dependent upon the trust the boy places in the girl by setting her free, as well as the respect she shows for his hopes for the two of them.

In Actual Life, these sorts of relationships govern all good business, for while we all must fend for ourselves we are tasked with doing so by noble means, noble means which, since they are essential, cannot be separated from practical life by being sublimated as ascetic martyrdom. In business, we all want something, but we must be willing to risk loss in order to empower our associates, that they might reciprocate. 

This risk is no more an invitation to say “No” than the bondage of the Damsel in Distress is a form of consent. Disappointments in business are not the results of lofty expectations but of treacheries; the lofty expectation is, in fact, the End in and of Itself, the Goal without the pursuit of which nothing good gets done. 

When I throw the ball to you, you do not call me arrogant for expecting you to catch it, and though I part with it willingly, it is not with the expectation that you might do with it whatever you will, but rather that you will serve the team as I intended for you to. So it is in Love, and this is but one function of the Hero’s encounter with the Damsel in Distress. These stories are not merely the sublimation of perverse heterosexual fantasies; they are tests in refinement for deep-seated and inextricable biological impulses. Maturity for the Man lies in the boy’s ability to set the girl free; maturity for the Woman lies in her ability to reward him. All else is simply conjecture; the moment that we begin to deconstruct the intent of the Hero,

“… the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;

And enterprises of great pith and moment,

With this regard, their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action.”

The Good Life always comes at a price.

[({Dm.A.A.)}]

An Open Letter to my "Father": "This File Number[s] 1313 Words."

Okay, since you are so smart and attentive, let me fill in the details you have missed:

1.    When I purchased Hulu, it was with the intent of watching films made by David Lynch.

2.    My last two purchases on iTunes were all so films by David Lynch.

3.    David Lynch’s birthday is on January 20^th.

4.    One of my Lyft drivers on September 27^th had a birthday on January 21^st.

5.    The following driver that I had, who took me to Escondido, and no further, has a birthday on January 22^nd.

6.    I did not request these drivers. They were Chosen For Me.

7.    The latter of the two of them was not only an avid fan of the same director but all so had the same Myers-Briggs Personality Type as do I, David Lynch, J.K. Rowling, and the chief protagonist of the only other show I’ve ever watched on Hulu, which was the X-Files.

8.    People of my personality type are statistically among the least likely to enjoy their jobs. I have enjoyed my job until recently, when instead of being rewarded for the long hours I spent cleaning, at the expense of both my health and professional development, I was chastised by my boss for taking too long to do a job that was at once one of the most difficult jobs in the kitchen and one of the least prestigious and well-paid.

9.    Upon visiting the Game Store on Grand Avenue recently I spent no more than twenty-five cents and within moments of arrival met someone who offered me a job in my specific profession, commending me for my professionalism after speaking with me for what I approximate to have been at least half an hour.

10. I have intended to purchase a camera and a microphone for several months now. Each time, the expense of simply being able to return to work was such that I could not afford the investment.

11. I met two filmmakers as the result of my work injury, one of whom is the proprietor of Gianni’s Pizza, which I did not hesitate to treat you to upon receipt of my first check, and the other of whom was a customer from my first visit. This same customer, having sent me a screenplay that has been under development for seven years, read my review of only the first Act, and he promptly told me that I should be in the Industry. He has all so worked on a set with Al Pacino, who is one of my favourite actors.

12. After the proprietor of Gianni’s sent me an e-mail detailing the equipment that he uses for his own films, I calculated that the cheapest means of meeting these criteria would require a budget of 480.48. Given the neatness of this number, there can be no question that my researched was Well Informed. However, I did not rush to make the purchase, preferring to do some supplementary research firsthand about the proper use of such devices. I have all so forestalled a meeting with the proprietor of Gianni’s, chiefly because I have been careful, under your extremely excessive and hitherto uninformed supervision, to use the Lyft service except when searching for work, returning from work, or collecting a sum from work.

13. My work habits have convinced those coworkers that I’ve worked alongside most frequently that I was not doing my job for the money. I have been loyal to the company despite the fact that I suffered my first injury under the supervision of an old man who has since been fired for harassing me, and I spent the better part of three months expecting another injury. I only learned that he was fired very recently, and shortly after I was told that paying me full-time for all these closing shifts was unfeasible.

14. I have only spent my money on transportation, food, and artwork in the three fields that I am pursuing a career in, two of which I have been a straight-A student in this year, though work has set me back.

15. I have only asked money from you when I was broke and far away. AT that time I had ensured that my expenditure would be in every one’s best interests.

16. I have had Maria’s nineteenth birthday gift in storage for approximately two weeks all ready, even though most of the things I buy for the both of us she seems to ignore.

17. It was not until one of TWO of my coworkers told me that my life was worth more than my job that I began to stand up for myself. I did not believe it previously, and my decision to change jobs was corroborated by three people, despite constant encouragement and praise from most of my remaining coworkers.

18. You took money from my account only after I had made my most expensive purchase. I had precisely enough money left in my account to consummate my investment, leaving enough for food alone. I calculated an average budget for myself within hours of receiving my money.

19. The only debt that I could possibly recognize is the debt that the various artists I’ve mentioned owe to one an other and to common sources, which is the only debt that I owe to anyone. This includes the debt that the creator of the X-Files owes to David Lynch. This is the only debt I feel day in and day out. I owe nothing else.

20. You have not given me the slightest accounting for your expenses. You can neither promise me that they will make such rational sense as mine do, on multiple levels of consistency, some premeditated and others ordained as though by a Greater Intelligence, nor can you present evidence for me that your spending up until this point has met the same Universal, Rational Standard. You have only treated me with the same condescension as have the rest of my abusers, holding me accountable to logic and work ethic yet condemning me for those situations when both my logic and my work ethic have superseded yours. It was established, when I had my last nervous breakdown, the same day that my boss assured me (wrongly and wrongfully) that I was in a friendly environment, instructing me to heed the age and wisdom of the same man who would go on to harass me, that I work longer hours than you do, at a more demanding job, and with a greater caring and self-sacrifice than you do. It is all so obvious to me that I get paid considerably less for my time than you do, and any chance I have of improving this debilitating station in life is superseded by the work itself, which even then is constantly criticized with disdain. My boss loses his temper with me because I make things “too difficult” for myself, even when I do so only to avoid making it difficult for others in the manner that it has been made difficult for me. If ever there was evidence to my mind for the adage that property is theft, this is it, even though I’ve even argued with all of my friends on the Far Left, some of whom I’ve known for over a decade, that to work is a blessing. I can no longer postpone the recognition that I’ve been taken advantage of. Now perhaps you understand why I will not deny the fact that you have stolen from me.

21. My only solace is in that the number of the overdraft (8.41) retains only those digits that occurred in the price of the camera and most of the digits that occurred in what would have been my total budget for film equipment. However, even you admit that that overdraft was only a fluke on your part.

Dmytri.

How to Interpret Numerological Synchronicities: Part Un.

One of my fortuitous nights downtown brought me into the company of a flirtatious Libra who was dating one of the proprietors (a rather muscular, tall Pisces with a cold glare) of the Coyote Ugly Saloon. She and I sat under the golden lights of the front patio, her occasionally playing with the sleeve of my jacket, the both of us intoxicated. She had recently become interested in numerology, and she recounted her freakish encounters with various recurring numbers. To her mind, and apparently on good authority, the times in her life when she was stuck were haunted by long strings of the same digit recurring in succession, such as 111,111. Moments of progress, conversely, were represented by lines of incrementing digits, such as 123,456.

Recently I watched a video from 2003: “You Don’t Know My Name” by Alicia Keys. The poignant classic, whose promotional music video recounts the story of an enamoured, popular but emotionally inhibited waitress (let’s call her a water-bearer) who is all ways late for work and courting a man she sees regularly on the job, was grueling to dive into, especially in the wake of having read extensively about female archetypes and fantasies.

"Will you ever know?" I guess you do. Note the next song: "So Into You". I fell in love with this song, in the pains and joys of pubescent youth, through the remix by Fabolous, who took the fixed earth love song and infused it with fixed water passion. When I entered a Karaoke Competition recently in Oceanside, I heard someone sing the original with a pop star's precision. This is my first time listening to Tamia's original in its entirety. I feel blessed. It remains my favourite Love Song to this day, many years later. Hopefully I will live to see what I have heard. "I wanna be more than a friend to you now." Dm.**** 

 What encouraged me? Nothing short of a miracle; though the actual music video was humourous to review, the song itself, presented with little more than half of Alicia Keys’ face (in Heisenberg fashion, reminiscent now of Vince Gilligan’s work) hidden behind a piano, had 1,123,450 views. I know this at present from the comment that I made upon it, I am told 23 hours ago: 

“1123450 views == MIND BLOWN. R.G.” Ironically enough, I used two equal signs, which I borrowed from the C Programming Language. Presently I sit in my Game Programming Summer Class, on the last day of the semester.

An other video that I paid visit to that day stuck out, because it had 123,330 views*. Just as I began to wonder what its meaning might be, I began to reflect upon all the bitter, cynical skeptics I’ve encountered along my Spiritual Quest. How was I to account to them for the a priori, primary quality of this synchronicity, met with the all-too-typical suspicions of projection, which would attest to the coincidence being secondary and personal instead?

I had simply to apply the Aristotlean method to Platonic themes.

This code, written only about an hour ago in C, (saved at 10:47 A.M.), outputs the same number. Most of it was fairly available intuitively, only requiring a touch of debugging. A simple exclusion of “math.h” was my worst sin, and considering the mathematical precision of the code I can write it off as that which is closest to one’s heart being furthest from one’s eyes:

#include <stdio.h>

#include <stdlib.h>

#include <math.h>

int main(void) {

       int a, b, c;

       int SUM;

       a = 5;

       b = 0;

       SUM = 0;

       while(a > 0) {

              if (a > 2) b = b + 1;

              else if (a <= 2 && a != 0) b = b;

              else if (a == 0) b = 0;

              SUM = SUM + (pow(10, a) * b);

              a = a - 1;

       }

       printf("%d", SUM);

       while (1) getchar();

       return 0;

}**

*At this point my account numbers 317 words in MicroSoft Word.

**At this point it numbers 545. Now it is 555.

If I had to explain how this code works to those same skeptics, who have been reduced to laymen now, it would be thus:

The code runs through several powers of ten, from 5 to 0 (100000 to 1). At each stage, a Sum is augmented with the new output, the latter of which is multiplied by a variable b, which increments as a (the power of ten) decrements, until a drops beneath 3, which is when b is fixed in place (at 3 as well, as it occurs to me at present) until a reaches 0, as does b.

Represented metaphorically, the progression can be visualized as a staircase. As one progresses along the x-axis (the a-axis in this instance), one rises along the y-axis (b), until one plateaus upon the third floor. If one were to walk further along, like a Fool, towards the end of the hallway, one would fall off of a cliff in a Yume Nikki, Prince-of-Persia manner.

Such is Life. I’ve reached a Good Place, but if I do not stop soon I will hit Rock Bottom.

As I’ve said: most of the math was fairly intuitive before the fact. If I could pull this off within an hour, rusty on my coding after weeks of work at my new job, as well as an acute injury incurred at work that only recently healed, then a Faultless Mind should have no problem debugging. The Logos abides.

Why would God speak to us in our own tongue, delivering messages in powers of ten and increments of one? Put simply: He speaks in All Languages. There is little “mystical” about this, except when one begins to ponder what lies in other dimensions. It’s simple common sense and basic etiquette, which most atheists lack.* If I can do it, so can the Divine Mind.

*852 Words.

Besides: why bother to try to understand the Universe through the Metric System if our digit system is simply the consequence of an evolutionary fluke?? Why not adopt the American Method, whose division by threes, fours, sixteenths and twelves is of universal potency in music, astrology, and time-keeping?

Whatever the Medium, I get the Message.

[({Dm.A.A.)}]

R.G.

P.S.: My present occupation is the closest thing to a Home I’ve ever found at work. When my Chef first called me for an interview, the time was 4:32 P.M. Apparently, descending digits are magical as well. After all: 432 is the Frequency at which the Universe ostensibly vibrates, and I’ve maintained that superstition for quite some time. Dm.

**** "All the ballers look dumb when they press you.

five and sixes. You don't let them kind of numbers impress you." FAB.

Post Number 935 (5 * 11 * 17): Rebirth.

I am partial to the model of reincarnation from Avatar: the Last Airbender, which remains to my mind the best Western interpretation of Eastern mysticism, capturing all the wonders of Buddhism and Taoism in a manner that is not neurotic in the Jungian sense. Over the course of only one night I see the Law of Attraction at work, moving from skepticism (that mirrors my own) that answers all my ghostly questions to shameless Islamic proclamations on the gender(lessness) of the Soul. Ever the comparative philosopher, like Watts, who took a page from Jung’s book, and without whose taking it I might never have found him (that bridge to the East I’d needed in a land of cults) I refuse to turn on my former self in disgust, seeking instead to integrate my Western Past. Thus is that Hessian excitement of developing a totally unique personality, for most of these guides have proven false in their Herd-like convictions; the few who broke the ice for me not just with optimystical predictions but with great, scientific diction all ways had gone rogue as I do now. So Buddha, if ever he felt pride, would be proud of me. I question everything and keep only that which has worked. And I remain harmless.

The Soul may be without gender, or it might be Female by Default: the Anima of which the ancient Greeks and Jung have spoken. Yet Jung spoke of Animus: the male counterpart, and then man spoke of the ANIMAL: that primordial force of Earthly Nature. Like my dog, who is in every sense a MALE DOG rather than a Female Dog, and who possesses a virtue that bitches lack, though they might compensate for it upon their female end. The term “Spirit Animal” is thus totally redundant. Animals ARE Spirits. And they definitely have gender.

We can read, with time, the Insides of Things based upon their Outsides. Those who gave up on the Skill convinced us that appearances remain misleading infinitely and indefinitely. But they only by so doing predisposed us to this blindness of inner intent, forced to rely upon the kindness of parasites DESPITE our innermost suspicions, for strangers would not trust us however charming we might appear in our demeanour, much of which had been our VIRTUE IN ITSELF, which parasites dismissed as though it had been a veneer for this “Society” would mirror that suspicion, even when the parasites knew it to be a lie, for those of us who were virtuous looked the part as well. But we never could sway those that were LED by false appearances, so what is the point to preach this ongoing post-modern paranoia?

One can tell an Aries often by his or her stature, as one can a Capricorn in opposite fashion. One can read the pointed features of a Scorpio against the round ones of a Libra. One can recognize the Pisces nose or the plain symmetry that’s native to a Taurus.

From a scientific angle our features are arbitrated by genetics. But genes are not chosen randomly. The Heavens do inform us. But what planet chooses gender? Mars or Venus? I say: neither, for they both have democratic say. So WE choose gender prior to rebirth. The Soul crawls in between That World and This One, accumulating karma, until it has served its purpose, and perfection having been attained it merges with the Buddha Nature Without Soul (anatman) and dissolves into Nirvana, its project complete, its efforts spent.

Yet the Soul is not the Spirit. What I loved about Avatar was that A’ang could SPEAK with all his former incarnations, and they looked then just as they had looked within their Glory Years.

This would explain all so the semblance of the Ghost of Hamlet’s Father to that Father that Hamlet remembers having known in Life.

If A’ang can speak to his OWN prior incarnations, is it thus impossible that *I* could speak to a former incarnation of an other Soul? If Quantum Leap is possible, and if that Soul is a Twin Flame (hence MY Soul) then how WOULDN’T I be able to do so?

Huxley distinguishes the Mystical State from the Visionary State, and this has all ways fascinated me. The Mystical State dissolves boundaries. It accommodates the parasitic rapists and escapists and those suicidal thoughts which promise Heaven without Gender to whoever takes Ophelia’s Path.

But the Visionary State EXALTS the differences that line this University of Duality. So in a state of Vision we encounter the Romantic Life of Eros. And Romance has its own virtues and boundaries. And it is perpetually under attack by culture. Hence in upholding its own boundaries Romance oversteps the lesser social boundaries. So it’s all ways been, by definition. Von Franz said it perfectly: I do this against the rules because I love this person. Only by loving can I know, however, what rules can be broken and what rules must not be. And within that Visionary State of Absolute Distinctions it is obvious to me what rule-breaking is done not out of Love but out of Evil.

So when the Body dies it leaves an imprint. All the prior Avatars can merge into one. But they can just as easily diverge for fun. As below, so above. Not only do our parents merge physically to produce a body that has sex. The Soul merges as well with that body and makes a Spirit. When the body dies, the Soul moves on to the Next Body. But the Spirit, which contains the Gender of the Body (Mother to the Spirit) and the Genderlessness of the Soul (The Father) moves on to the Higher Planes. Yet only after it has been avenged if it is premature. For otherwise it will remain a Ghost, a guest within this House. And its Host may very well be an other member of its Soul Circle. So you can imagine thus the reincarnation of a woman coming back to the house haunted by her ghost, but as a man, making amends so she might leave this earthly coil and ascend, but not to genderless Nirvana, as the Soul will go to, but that Eternity where her ghost is remembered in God’s Memory. And memory is that anatman principle that holds this Multiverse together. Everything is Memory.

Dm.A.A.

Cheer up, Emo Quid: We're in the Homely Stretch. (End of a Yuga Cycle.)

Age of Pisces: 135 B.C. – 2025 A.D.

-         825 A.D.: Kali Yuga started.

-         845 A.D.: Buddhist Persecution in China by “Taoist” Emperor Wuzong. (http://www.historycentral.com/dates/800ad.html) “The suppression of monasteries and persecution of foreign religions were part of a reformation undertaken. The persecution lasted for twenty months—not long, but long enough to have permanent effects. Buddhism, for all its strength, never completely recovered. For centuries afterwards, it was merely a tolerated religion. The days of its greatest building, sculpture, and painting, and its most vital creative thought, were past.

In some aspects while much of traditional Buddhist teachings were later arduously restored following Emperor Wuzong's reign, some traditional schools of thought were wiped out. This included the ancient Esoteric school, which barely survived through the Japanese monk Kūkai, later the founder of the Shingon sect.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Anti-Buddhist_Persecution)

Age of Aries: 2295 B.C. – 135 B.C.

Age of Taurus: 4455 B.C. – 2295 B.C.

Age of Gemini: 6621 B.C. – 4455 B.C.

Age of Cancer: 8787 B.C. – 6621 B.C.

Age of Leo: 10954 B.C. – 8787 B.C.

Yuga Cycle began: 10,000 (9975) B.C. (Age of Leo.)

SATYA YUGA: Leo, Cancer, and Gemini. (Lord, Mother, and Messenger.)

-         Mesopotamian Cultivation of Wheat and Barley.

o   Prefigured as Start of an Age. I downloaded this image (of a barley seed’s cross-section) two hours ago, according to my Search History. I have misplaced the source for the supposed prediction.

Satya Yuga ended: 5,200 (5175) B.C. (Age of Gemini.)

TRETA YUGA: Gemini, Taurus, and Aries. (Messenger, Farmer (Lover), and Fighter.)

Treta Yuga ended: 1,600 (1575) B.C. (Age of Aries.)

DVAPARA YUGA: Aries, Pisces. (Fighter and Martyr (Prophet).)

-         Hindu Vedic Period.

-         Buddha Guatama.

Dvapara Yuga ended: 825 A.D. (Age of Pisces.)

KALI YUGA: Pisces. (Prophecy and False Prophecy.)

Kali Yuga ends: 2025 A.D.

-         Pluto enters Aquarius.

-         Age of Pisces enters Era of Cancer.

Age of Aquarius begins: 2166 A.D.

ZODIAC CYCLE: 26,000 years.

Yuga Cycles per Zodiac Cycle: 21 and two thirds. (21.666…)

Zodiac Age: 2166 and two thirds. (2166.666…)

Satya Yuga: 4800 years.

-         Aquarius and Capricorn. (4333 and a third.)

YUGA CYCLE: 1200 years.

Dm.A.A.

LEARY:

I listen to Leary

In a pre-recorded vocal sample.

Looping as he casts his loopy

Theory. That we’d follow his

Example.

And I know he did his best.

But I remember I was never much

Impressed. I knew this back in

Middle School. And I will not

Be made a little fool.

How he’d crusade against

The tyranny of all authority.

Soon he had to answer even

To his own majority.

Soon he like a cancer

Spread the tall tales of

His own superiority.

Soon even the Cosmic Dancer

Grew tired of his seniority.

Alan Watts had warned him

Art Linkletter scorned him

Ginsberg wrote about him

With a Howl.

Father Time endowed him

With a scowl.

Crime denied him

A return across each

Bridge he’d burn.

The gods seemed to abandon him.

As he rode upon a phantom whim.

Philip K. Dick condemned him

As do I and for the same damn

Tragedy. Icarus took to the sky

But never had a strategy.

And of course those loopy words

Work well but only in the same

Closed loop: that there is only

Solidarity within the troupe.

He subtly suggests that on the contrary

He offers Hope. Of truly Universal Unity

Without a comfort that could help us

Cope. He says therefore to screw the

Pope and clergy. And engage in

Orgiastic dramaturgy.

And he urges me

To purge me of the curse

That is the olden way.

And I am left much worse off

Than before for listening to

What he absolutely had to say.

For if he will condemn each path

That leads me back to This Reality,

Then could he not throw out and out

Of wrath all Solidarity in Actuality?

For what is Shakespeare without

Rhyme or reason? What is friendship

If it’s treason? Who’d defend a killer

Who here lies and there hides his

Will under a pious disguise?

Why must I level with the

Murderers when I could revel

In Peacemakers? All for fear

That when you return to the

Herd you won’t have any

Takers.

Why must I forsake the Quakers?

And the Mormons?

And Zen monks?

What can I discover

That I won’t simply

Recover now in

Chunks?

You threw the babe of Human

Friendship out with the bath

Water of conceit. And in your

False camaraderie oddly you

Fell into your own deceit.

And what you brought to me

Was so apparent that your

Sign of birth was knowingly

Transparent.

All the parents you despised

For fear of parenthood. And all

The men you analyzed who wanted

Only to be Understood.

And in disguise of a much

Greater Good than any old

Inherited conception.

You gave way for the great mystery

Of Evil then to parrot your own self

Deception.

And when you said in that loop

Think for yourself. I think then:

For My Self. Is that all that I

Have to live for?

When she asked me what the Self

Was. Prior to her death from

Drugs.

I found a reason to forgive her.

But what is forgiveness,

Pity, mercy when the word of

Evil is abolished? When the

People cannot trust a common

Knowledge?

When the colleges are rape

Machines and dogs will run

Amok. I say: fuck you, Leary.

Fuck your theory of never

Giving a fuck.

Here’s the fuck I give to you:

For there’s no truck in living through

This Life with open mind and no

Convictions except those bred by

Addictions.

Part of me is lived in an eternal fiction

And the other in maternal fact and time.

Under your paternal jurisdiction,

I forego this paradigm.

Modernity supplied it

And humanity denied it.

And it was not vanity that

Spoke with such authority you

Fear.

MacIntyre liberated us with pain.

And a desire not in vain.

When Ram Dass had a heart attack

He tossed your fire out into

The rain.

[You offered Solidarity

Only within a narrow group.

And those who sought it anywhere

Besides you called a troupe.

For you defied the Other

Like a child defies its

Mother. And without an

Adult’s rhyme or reason.

And I could have told your story

Of a war-torn scorn in prose.

But as it goes: I know

That it would have been

Treason.]

Dm.A.A.