For two days i have written about problematic things, and for two days i have not posted - so for all my disclaimers to the contrary, i balk at sharing some things, or i process shit differently · and beat myself up for being different. Anymore, i’m not sure, and i feel safer there than with the conviction i listen to and watch in the world. My parents were both teachers, for a pa a vocation; ma, an escape pod. Hers was a torturous experience teaching art to the well-heeled children of Newport Beach, CA.; pa’s last transition included his “poetry class” coming to the locked facility where he was deemed safe from his “diagnosed” non compos mentis state of mind. He loved the process of helping others to find their passion - ma struggled with spoiled children who didn’t appreciate the opportunity she provided them to expand their horizons. He crashed into a low water-dam for the “designed-accessible” shower his next to last domicile had provided. Ma quit washing dishes about 15 years ago, and from what news i can gather from my passive-aggressive siblings with a penchant for hoarding news, she fares well in a Covid-19 high-risk old people place for the well-heeled.
Mark Twain said somewhere, and i’ve never been able to find where in hyper-text “those things I despise most in others, I find in myself to a greater or lesser degree.” And like Madam Paradox and her minion, this poses thorny issues each time i am inclined to point the “fickled-finger-of—fuck-off-and-die” at D_rump and his spiral descent into infamy. Much less my siblings whom i’ve deemed too toxic with whom to tarry, but find dislodging from the heart a cavernous task. Mostly because i find their echoes in each challenging relation, i’d rather not have. It is at precisely that locus where shit gets dodgy, for it is not the person i am resisting, but the aspect of my own unpalatable history which eludes resolution. Yet Madam Paradox dictates - non-acceptance is surrender to the lord god Ego. I think pop was hot on the trail when he was committed to a locked facility - Fun is the answer, for from fun, follows happiness. I am certain master Thich Nhat Hanh is enjoying a far more profound happiness with his measured breathing and relentless facing of facts, but still - a shot of good bourbon goes a long way in the struggle for joy.
Name of my first wife - Joy; that should give you a clue how much of a misnomer names can be. “Life” for example in the dictionary, “the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity and continual change prior to death.” I’m not going to get tedious with a blow by blow contradiction, but to say that a rock does not grow, even if it grows smaller, or that if you cleave it just so, there are two where there was one, or that a step on a cathedral floor has no significant place in the universe - if anything · a rock like an irrational number will reduce itself to its constituent matter, but never be destroyed. “Newton’s Law of Conservation of Mass.” What in the world would suggest that we humans, or living matter would behave any differently than inanimate matter¿ that’s a question.?
If anything the intrusion of consciousness into the equation seems to render cogent creatures far dumber than their insentient counterparts who have no trouble with accepting their role in a chaotic universe; transitioning to different functions - entirely at peace with a single rule of the universe · “change is constant.” While we mortals make haste to preserve the unpreservable with myth and money as our primary levers to alter the inalterable · to stop change. This goofy ambition, so close to my heart as to condemn me to a life of carving 3-Dimensional objects i cannot see with my uniquely 2-Dimensional eyesight; small wonder i would hanker for a the hand of Madam Paradox - though she has exposed me repeatedly for the charlatan i am, and as which i will likely die · lucky me. So if life is all smoke and mirrors with each of us popping in and out the the other’s lives as though our presence has significance - who’s to say we don’t. Why is not possible that some curious youth didn’t read some editions of the “Extinction Chronicles” and decide for themself - “no i am not doomed” · it is a phantasmagoria and there is not determined outcome, but death . .. ···
Which according to Newton’s Law of “Conservation of Mass” and myself being comprised of mass, with a sentient twist cannot perish and so need no armature of myth or money to hold me aloft in the cosmos¿ it’s a fair question, however unlikely to be answered in this or any other chronicle found here on earth or in our hiccup of time. I will say, given the torment of the last two posts - it is a relief to once again find fun in the act of asking questions, questions without answers, but questions all the same. Now whether to move to Hue, or remain in the land of delusional hyper-entrepreneurial “build-it-and-the-will-come-and-destroy-5-centuries-of-agrarian-solidarity”, i don’t know. I do know when the borders open and the capitalists are reunited with their capital, it will be very difficult for the local farmers to resist the rampant speculation that breeds the blood-in-the-water behavior of every greedy soul that has walked the surface of our planet, and i know i’d rather be in the arms of a loving woman who admires the miles i’ve managed to endure with my unconventional approach to growth as pertains the species - so what am i gonna do · change the rhythm of the “Gimme, Gimme Tango” or find a sweetheart that wants to teach me how to grow ginger and turmeric for our romantic dinners - tough call · eh ¿? that’s not really a question . .. ··· ciao baby, see ya’ in the funny papers.
jts 30/05/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
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