
photo from yancey county. i worked on it a couple of hours and got a beautiful print.
on a weeklong marathon it appears, dodging and weaving between hookin up os 9, os X, and windoze XP. sorting thru the usual dottle, (pk dick's term), papers, obscure notes on napkins, bills, maps, prints, technical documentation, room by room, or maybe i will say pile by pile. right now it's one big pile of [shudder] stuff. adjusting and readjusting camper so it fits truck, and is rain tight.
lovely evening out and i thought i'd make an infrequent appearance at DL downtown. instead i'll go to library in the morning to return a mystery (that word again), leicester for laundry, pay bills and get up on the parkway heading south.
working on a little surprise movie for small circle of friends. new software, every move raises questions, but this i don't mind because i'm strolling up a learning curve. but routers, browsers, tcp/ip i have a different feeling about. i've already been up this road many times and i still don't get it.
my shrink told me yesterday that the bout i went thru last week was a profound trauma leaving me with even less brain cells.
so i'm cruising in the moment, everything is new, inexplicable, indeed inexpressible. strictly up to me and my partners, the daemons of yore, spirits of the low places, guardians of fools. they are big on curve balls and the old shell game. when i think i know what i'm doing they love to present me with chaos and inexplicable conundrums. for my own good mind you. or at least for something's good.
i've transited from liberal democrat to post-political, post-institutional being. the mechanisms of the manifest world are broke, lucky us and in our lifetime too. so while the last waltz takes place i'll be ginning up new world-views - or maybe ancient world-views - in which personal experience is lived and not displaced by teetering metaphysical branded structures. does this make me an outlaw?
or an alien prescence in the world of ghosts?
chances are that chance is all. is meta-confusion the abscence of order, or the absence of fiction? is the writing on the wall comprehensible, or is it divne graffetti designed to push us past understanding?
these questions are about all i have left, and i don't expect answers.