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"Oooo; Yuck, yuck, yuck, it worked." I chortle to myself... Ah, like when one pays with the 'Debit Card'... one waits, eyes down cast, waiting to be 'Approved' by the greater beings above holding the groceries one has picked out. Oh the joy; the exubrance expressed on the 'Tellers' face-- the waiting que: Uh, the general feeling: "He's one of us." The security men fall back, smile slightly and let one pass. "Thank you so much... each and everyone of you..." I breath back, beaming... bowing and scraping, while grabbing my reads: I shuffling off. Come back to the reality of my place... My day of recovery... adjustment from the last three days spent with my son... and being down by the sea in the constant swell of the tides again... the smell of old mother pungent on the nose... the damp of her even in the sun... sun sparkle of her in a drift of blue. Old logs, litter the beaches where I am found playing with grandchild... I, being child, again...him and I, picnicking with peanut butter sandwhiches and jam... orange slices and cookies with cream cheeze. We've come back with a phone-camera to record our creative endeavor with an old branch, on its end now and dove into the sand, pebbles built up around it to give a supportive base...this four year old and I, working side by side...being a team: We have it free standing: " I never thought...", he says, looking proudly, "I think we should decorate..." and there to our right, I spy some old blue plastic rope discarded...we agree it is just right... it with a loop on one end and frayed to a frazzle on the other... I haul it up from the sand and help him place the loop to drape the blue from the top, spiralling down the length of the limb... I say: "How's that? and he stepping back to view, in an awe inspired voice whispers one word: "Awesome." Oh, I felt so proud... You know... I mean, I'm nothing out there among all of you... so vast and wonderfull what you do... but, there with me, and this little mite of a beginning on the journey I'se nearly done with... Ah! what a bond... what a frail memory will be imprinted on his bright mind, long after I have left... my footprints gone from the sands... this brief moment to discover goodness ... to embrace the beautiful-- absorb the essense ... We fine tuned from there...a piece of old rusty pipe, some more pebbles...a stick or two... among the litter; the sea --old mother she rejects... and then we left... we took our pictures-- him too... complimenting each other... gathering up our own waste we walked away... leaving our 'limbing thing' standing proudly before the receding tide... chatting away ceasessly, us... over rocks and logs... up the steep back upward climb-- rock walled steps; winding path done by his dad... him, himself now, way ahead of me, I hardly able to drag my old bod up this route... but am I proud-- fufilled, or what, heh? He is my audience... he is enough... You can have all the rest. I have my crowd... grands, greats... they think I'm tops... Ha, ha, ha.... while actually, I'm nothing, in the ways of the world... it seems. I must be blest. |
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| I Met Her On Line I met her on line... after all these years. So much had changed. We had been exchanging for some time... each time we posted we seem to come closer...our thoughts coincide...I never imagined...then one time she said something...? flashed me a picture... and I almost passed out as it hit me... and I heard her last words, again, she yelled at us...just for' she slammed the door and was gone--gone forever it seemed...We 'picked up the pieces' and went on...never hearing a word... How young, beautiful... We’d had so much hope... but who taught us any thing about how / what, down at our level, what you did for babies when they grew into teens... who even helped us to catch up... to hold on, even, as we ourselves went down the drain... lost out...each, so much... we, rendered redundant... Who helped us with our faults..?. Who...? In the parent participation evolution... which started off so much fun... so much passion and deep contentment... so much joy at living and each other. Her and I and then you; out of it all, came you. What a surprise... How cute... Uh... what does one do, now? You were so lovely... She herself, from whence you came, was so lovely, so full, so ripe; so receptive, warm, and motherly, who had recently writhed in hell: Some devilish act-- of fate, that held her conscious in it's vice like grip while it had it's way with her body and passed through into its own...own experience...draining her of everything she has... She looses her crown; there, in the breeding time... She passes through... She had passed through... All this time passed... and there she was: Fully matured... her childhood, her breeding done... the womb closed... with all her abilities... gifts... ideas, skills, and knowledge: experience and rote... "...never coming home!" The door slams..."Her heels, staccato, down the path... the missus and I looking at each other helpless: She was crying... "Why John," she said, "Why did you�?" | |
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| Chapter One. Joe sat back in his old rocker.... lighting his pipe... late dawn... He'd been up since three-- a.m. that is. He 'booted up' his laptop across from him, now, on the old pedestal like desk under the window that looked out to the back of the next row of houses in the sub division where his one bedroom suite was. He was into his second year residency, now... Hah! how hard it had been... strange it was even now... him at seventy six alone like this; in an alien community; a different culture. People from different countries, beginnings, experiences...religions...different languages; about different things...Though of course, much was the same... and each obeyed, in the main, the same rule--here, in this land. What would he be here, among them like this, Joe wondered... Did it matter--? he questioned. They had a place; a niche, one could fill--was allowed... One paid one's rent--didn't wreck the place... Got on with you, as they did. No threat. No cheat. It was a good place to live--- one could live alone here, be independent. Live out one's time. Joe took another deep puff on the short stubby pipe...laid back, smiled ruefully, looking off into space... He was an honest man... No cheat was right for him: No interfere; He was making his mark among them... in little ways. They knew he loved the herb; rock, rock, rock... It's funny, Joe thought; I'm usually 'on line by now'.. My group.... WSAM... he allowed the thoughts into his mind... sat with them awhile... all comfortable like. Then she came up; sudden like, flashed by and was gone... Joe sat forward...he had caught her profile was all, a quick imprint, etching itself deep into feelings... all feelings he had ever felt with her... always her... at the base of everything... No matter what a man did. Joe looked over to his computer. There was nothing there. He knew before he looked... becaused as he left it this morning and came to his chair he had turned the volume on and up a little so he would hear. He hadn't allowed that to his mind at the time, but he knew now. Nothing was flashing from Messenger: He had it up, in his 'tray.' Joe took another puff... held, and let out... laid back again... How quiet it was... how he loved this time... how right for his mind... It was Temple time... sincere time... clear time; transparent where every thing could come through clear-- clearing: expression time... A quiet, deep enough so that from within one's "...Own Wellspring divine..." (Ref. I Ching-- Wilhm/ Byns, trnsltn), truth's essence was flowed out by the receptive talent of a being into its accepted medium...Joe came to his 'NotePad'... and began to write. All the time though the image was there in his peripheral vision... that inner vision... he, keeping his eyes on the road strait ahead... she holding along side looking strait ahead too...each, seemingly ignoring the other... in their different capsules... Joe inwardly smiling at the fantasy... Was he cursed...(yes all artists are they have to go there... right there with nothing held back... all the way in... to whatever... if they don't there is no "Art") How many times in his life had he been affected like this... at a casual glance... a smile while punching the time clock... she and him brushed... and he carried it around for days... a fragment dream she had come... they were together... and he awoke and longed and longed for her; always her... in all her ways; her many faces... her and him... that special bond... beyond all physical intenseness; they plunged deep together beyond words, beyond all else one can imagine-- a union; a deep, longed for union; absolute, complete. The yearn for life... for full life... Life lived to the full... full up with life... All found with each other... something beautiful immerge beyond physical child... this one, the union creates, the one sought for all our lives-- all the miss guesses... wrong turns...wrong things, reached for...wrong thing placed between... to keep one from... tracks laid out for others to follow... not this track... these steps...these steps now, that cannot be turned... that have to be followed... the longing seeks: blind... deaf... only touch now can be satisfied... full, long, touch of every outer cell, for the other sought... eyes closed, sound unheard... only touch and movement the rhythm of life; flowed together... the two being one....this other one: neither could be, alone... the correct one, each seeks. Joe came forward again... Made an audible exclamation... took one last toke from his pipe and went to make tea. Standing in the kitchen now the living room stretching out to the side of him, he turns his back to it to tend to his tea at the counter... thought continuing in his mind... his figure dim in the low light...the bright light from his back room flowing out through the patially open door into the hall...The owners above still asleep... Joe went about his needs in respect to that. He was not a noisy man, not an insensitive man, not an unfeeling man... He smiled, as he stirred his brew ... reflecting: Yes how many fantasy loves had come and gone on such casual momentary glimpses... someone on the sidewalk as you flash by, on the bus; someone across from you on the tube... captivates you; you try not to stare...to leave alone.. but you keep coming back to that one face... each of us taking our peeks, knowing when we are looked at...look away... don't have the right... "...It's not you, Babe...." be polite. Ha, ha, there we all are out in the crowd... here on line... Joe was in WSAM now... laughing his fool head off... as he read an exchange. He had seen her online... when he came on around five, later maybe... not sure-- he thought... He had wanted to call... hey! How you doing? What's happening... now he couldn't... he had shrank back... (at that very moment in Joe's storey, she came on line again even as he said: "shrank back" He held... then with a Damn it! he double clicked the icon... and they were talking... Hey! Joe says... calling her pseudomonad,,, what’s happening? "Good morning"; she says his name so easily... "How are you today?" and off they go side by side chatting down the Cyber road... she not had her morning coffee yet... He with nothing else to do... She a 'tinker bell' come into Peters never never land of dreams and imaginings... He rubs a magic lamp and enters worlds he's never been exposed to... Joe forgets himself; the two of them sitting on the light waiting for the green... "Go ahead... I'll beat on this on." Joe throws a challenge across ... and it turns green they rev and are gone she disappearing in a cloud of dust... and Joe draws back eases of the gas... laughs... I should of known... he thinks ... wincing. He idles on, then sees her whatever; sleek two seater... parked at the roadster..... Joe drops in goes to the counter orders a coffee... she is sitting back in a booth behind him. He's watching her in the mirror over the shoulder of the old waitress about her chores... There's a trucker sitting back in the corner reading a newspaper while stuffing down a breakfast, that was all it was early morning. The driver of the two seater, calls, without looking round: You might as well come on over and sit.... you can drink it just as well here, get a better look too... Then she turns...smiling... full faced.. Joe ground the gears on his next change, but laughed, and sliding off the stool he goes over and slips in beside her.... It seemed less confrontational that way than across ... each could easily look off if they needed to... "So, the old gear grinder you're driving couldn't cut it, hey...? right there Joe new she was from Canada...
The other side of the border.. not just the street... ha, ha... He sipped his coffee staring across the table, she was looking out...most probably looking at his old beater, assessing his assets... Joe thought. "She's not much... but she get's me there..." Joe had turned and was following her line of gaze. She looked back at him; just her head, though, over her shoulder... a slight smile played with her lips... Nice lips, Joe thought... she parted them slightly showing small white teeth... "And when you get there?" She paused, holding his gaze, and left it hanging there in his mind...her smile more fuller now teasing him she, left him in full vision... as if she had drawn back and given him the whole view... "I'm still on my way, I guess...joe retorts; thought I was there a few times... could of been anytime, I guess, had it been correct. I guess it wasn't; but, I imagine it would be enough if it ever was. Maybe I was too young to know what it was I really wanted... wanted to share... maybe I couldn't find it because it hadn’t been imprinted. Maybe its not my lot to find it...maybe other things in me were too strong at that time... over powering other things... maybe now ... now I have worked through stuff... "chickens come home to roost"... the harvest over... the karma fulfilled... understood... each thing in it's place where it should be...One can only imagine--make an act of faith and give it all one has to give... risk it all ...open all doors, all draws, all windows, the gates... receive... When it is from oneself fully, it's a receiving, actually; growing what is yours to give, more and more... Joe shook his head and sipped his coffee she was back, looking out the window. She turned now facing him fully... I just bought this place, she said...I'm the new owner. My first day... I've just drove here to start a new life... I'm forty and want a change..." "Wow!" says Joe... and I'm just passing through... have no home... other peoples, mostly... a kind of Cuckoo... She laughed-- he too... they fell silent... Joe finished his coffee... she got up following him away from the table... they parted... ha! utters Joe...nice chatting with you... uh welcome to roadster's by the highway... I might be back by here again some day... Joe signs out... shuts down FN-F3 and his Toshiba goes into standby the orange light comes on and gets into its steady pulsation... Joe goes out to his kitchen again... "another cupper... maybe fry an egg...." |
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| Cyberland... He turned to it more and more, these days...wherever it was: some ‘Hard Drive�?somewhere... being managed by someone. He smiled, ruefully ... there alone in his one ‘bedroomer�?.. Aged, as he was... "How different," he thought, “to when those who birthed him were old... How much there was here... the whole world could be reached; disembodied, minds intermingle-- masks were dropped... the real strode about under pseudomonas-- the suppressed comes up out of its secret place and was expressed... all could freely walk among all... converse... mix and mingle... as if in space; not bodies at all, but spirits, craving them...craving their fantasized life...unable to touch without them... they crowd the monitors of the world... in many silent rooms: Shacks and palaces; among the rich, and even the poor. What primitive is not peering through 'Windows;' Vistas now, of worlds never known by ancestors... little understood by parents... we talk across the boundaries set up by power... fragments of our lives, our feelings; dreams, hopes, sorrows, dramas; all what is not shared here... what we do feel etc we paint in words and pictures�?pictures of ourselves�?of our families. An Intelligence is growing and growing... I know you, you know me—soon no one is lost anymore... A whole new arrangement must eventually evolve between us... are we ready for this ‘enormous�?we have produced? Can we�? We are so close; maybe the fourth generation He had been noticing them: Special... here and there... very intelligent... let not this generation, heh? Think about that... That’s how it changes: there are first, the lost ones... the confused ones... the grab all ones; the work very hard ones... one day it is said: come the very ‘intelligent ones,�?who know. Who are not any of that which was before? So much has been worked out; evolved... The cosmic child comes of age... to its maturity in a four year old age of the Huma... Not one, this time, come’s the enlightened, but comes a whole generation, globally; in that "critical number'...the sciences know abou. ‘They�?seem to know, on arrival. As the aged are increasing, so the highly intelligent are among us already... but not yet in power. He thought: my generation peter's out, now... everyday more of us leave the scene... we were what we were on that understanding we had... What we thought... what we built for, sacrificed for...sold out for... we were our warp-- warp whatever... on the knowledge gained thus far... and the powers, how they used it... what they thought; those who ruled, who sought power over us... coerced us.. learned to manipulate our baser lower being... increase its wants: for commercial purposes... enriching those with the talents, and skills learned, to run the processes and machines; mix the formulas... teach the rules... that held the " Clock Work Orange" in place, functioning... reward’s well. This old dinosaur, stumble’s now, in it’s own chaos of ignorance and wants ... it’s desperate needs ....against the limits of natural order and processes for such things; so much gone, so much wasted... He put his ‘Over-night news, alerts�?aside... and called up messenger... wondering if he would meet that new girl he had run into... so receptive... expressive... learned... farm girl, she said... They were chatting... over on ‘groups�?.. among the exchange... across the wide divide... how many barriers are crossed now, here in Cyberland�?as the whole structure of what was, is crumbling, even as it appeared to peak... Wars and threat of wars, pollution never more so, even as we call to each other: “Go Green�?.. we are gradually being blotted out from the sun in the caverns of the rich and powerful... She came on...driving a car... giving a profile, a bare white arm... so sensual the skin, her neck. He sat there age rugged... knees apart, in his old rocker...sitting forward: at a birthday, or something... hair down to his shoulders. Her, a skin head... metal all over the place... she looked twenty; and an ache deep inside of him came to the surface... He stared and stared at her going by, it seemed for ever; letting every feeling he felt have its way... and they were talking again... "Getting to know you..." her mum showed up last time... this time it was her son ... she making him brekkie on a Saturday... Nice mom... He signed out... shook his head... all the Tinker Bells playing around him... darting and hovering... around him and his shadow as he went to make tea... He stopped... listening now: He thought someone had called: "Peter!", against the sound of the waves coming up the shore... the smell of wood smoke and the sound of guitar melody as a seagull cried. He came too again` and continued down the hall... hissing a barely audible tune... the words "... going where the climate suits my clothes..." and is it over now... does she have her 'Porsche'... and her color TV...? And, "he last saw Bobby Magee hitching down the road... Where have all the children gone�? Like a lonesome train whistle, blew through his memory, now: Gone; grown up every one somewhere... gone back home, I bet he said aloud as he plugged the kettle in and thought about breakfast. | |
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