All the Houris Dance to the Thundering Drums of Trivia.

Dog Poet Transmitting .......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

The thunder from the Drums of Trivia is deafening. The TV compresses itself and liquid cotton candy, squeezes from the ears and mouths of talking heads, as the sides of the TV meet and multi colored treacly licorice like sludge, oozes from the collapsed unit. If we are talking about a computer monitor it’s the same thing.

You’re frozen to the spot. You can’t move. Is it a dream? Things like this happen in a dream, where you can’t move. You want to move, you just can’t. Then, suddenly, someone comes in and shows you this. It’s things like this that are all the proof anyone could need that some people have too much money; way too much money. Used to be they would say this about drugs, especially Cocaine but ... I can assure you, I would much rather have an 8-Ball of coke than an old L.C. Smith that some writer supposedly wrote some book on. I’m not overly romantic when it comes to coke, even less so when it comes to ancient typewriters which, no matter what ... do not confer the expertise of the former owner upon the new owner. Coke’s a young man’s drug and though I consider myself a young man, I suspect I would not continue to be, were I to go dancing with the white lady for any length of time. It doesn't take me where I want to go anyway.

That’s a consideration; whether something takes you where you want to go or takes you somewhere else. Over the last year I used to (or thought I did) enjoy a few beers or a couple of glasses of wine but I don’t get that anymore. It’s like getting into an elevator that only goes to certain floors and most of them are down. The elevator doesn't go past a certain point, no matter what you do and only certain people live at that level so that’s it as far as communication and camaraderie goes. That’s it as far as what can be expected of the possible levels of communication and camaraderie as well.

Times are tough for the upscale drinkers, or those who think they are upscale. Supposedly, times are tough in general but when I see things like this and when I look at the jammed stadiums at football games, I have to wonder. I think the cheapest ticket you can get are above 200 bucks and around 300 in some places and those are in the nosebleed seats. For the best seats you can pay 5,000 or more. I guess you get some kind of deal if you have season tickets. Of course you are going to pay an awful lot for those AND ... so far we have only been talking about regular season games.

The people I see at these games look like your rank and file people. I’m sure there are quite a few high rollers down on the fifty yard line and up in the sky boxes and owner’s suites but the many, many tens of thousands that compose the howling, face painted mobs in the funny outfits are not high rollers but they sure must have a lot of disposable income. I couldn't afford to attend those games. Of course, being able to watch any and every game on demand, even without commercials the next day, including all the playoffs and super bowl on your computer, for about 200 Euro for the whole year, well ... that’s more my style. For the price of one game with a bad seat, I get it all.

I bring this up because I want to talk a little about perspective and priorities. Money has never been a close friend of mine. Due to my pursuits and the Karma of my circumstances, I've lived at a level that most people would call bottom line poverty but due to the way I manage my affairs; my wants and desires, I've gotten by better than you might expect. Of course I was a fool when I was young and that continued for awhile after too. I’ve had a lot of bad luck that way too, even recently. One might say that the bad luck was the result of bad judgment. Even though it clearly looks to me like I was herded to these events for the purpose of demonstration.

No matter who we are, we can well go through 39 kinds of purple shit for mysterious reasons. I direct you to the lives of saints and prophets and various mystical sorts from the historical records. These people, most of whom were certainly at a higher awareness than whatever I have reached so far; many of them went through all kinds of things. For some reason that seems to be the regular game plan of the cosmos, when it comes to those attempting to negotiate the metaphorical, spiral mountain path. On the ascent, the winds can be heavy and the going, increasingly treacherous as you continue.

It’s not a matter of whether you will eat the next day or not. It’s a matter of whether you might stray too far and forget why you came; what you were after. I've seen it happen many times and when it does, what I notice is that the principal no longer remembers certain unforgettable details from the past ... if that makes any sense. The thing is ... you have to deal with yourself. You have to come to terms with yourself. There is no escaping this. Whatever others may know or suspect of the events of a life to which they were not a party, you know ... you were there and that is all that counts.

{Appropriately enough, Visible is watching that great sleeper film that most people have never seen, much less even heard of; “On any Given Sunday.”}

Levels of glory and recognition have meaning in two different zones of being. On the temporal level you can exhaust your currency at the other levels. Lao Tzu says that such a one looks like he has swallowed the sun and the moon. When dealing with the basic differences between the temporal and the invisible, one might say the greatest difference is in the level of permanence to be gained. One should never mourn the absence of temporal reward. In most cases there is a poetry and a timing to all of this, in the long run, and it’s not something handled or managed by the subject.

In the end it’s all about the capacity for letting go. Everything that happens is geared to this result. Some of us can seriously take a licking and keep on ticking. It is to what end we tick that counts.

Mr. Apocalypse is stepping it up. It might be hard to see with the degree of sinister threat attempting to manifest all over the place. None of those things have happened YET. Back where it can’t be seen, all kinds of things are going on ... collectively and individually. Real creeps are being forced to act out in bizarre ways. You’ll remember that fellow. He’s the guy that got Phil Hartmann’s wife to snort coke after she’d been in recovery for having a problem with it. Then she went home and shot Phil. He laughed about it. He didn't think it was a big deal. There’s another example of onomatopoeia involving his last name.

It’s really starting to go haywire. You can be forgiven for thinking there’s no rhyme or reason to it. It is difficult to see the many threaded ways, woven serpentine, like the most intricate Wounaan, Indian Baskets. The complexity of the weave is so distracting that one can be further forgiven for not recognizing it is a basket and it was made to hold something.

It’s the same as trying to make sense out of the world. Not only is there the thick miasma of sticky dream honey (it’s not really honey) that manipulates the consciousness and the conclusions drawn but THE SPECTACLE ... the whirling distractions, the spinning houris, undulating like curvaceous and magnetic snakes. The dancing veils ... ah, the many colored scarves of Samskara! Are they scarves? Are they flags? Are they something masquerading as flags?

Do what is in front of you and do it as well as you can or switch the direction of your operations. Love what you do and what surrounds you or change it now and don’t forget to love yourself as you go. If you find that to be too difficult then you don’t know who you are.


End Transmission .......

There will be a radio show Sunday night.

New from Visible(?)

The Lost Plays of Shakespeare;
Soliloquy Extracts
A Modern, or a Medieval Mystery;
are these truly Shakespeare's Lost Plays...?

...is now available to buy at Amazon.
This is wonderful read, but it is a slim volume -
and image is for illustration only
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