The Illimitable Ocean of Inexplicability

Month: January, 2015

BONES ON THE FROZEN GROUND

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To my fellow explorers who now find themselves in this small part of our eternal striving

Anyone who was to read the above title would most likely notice that it is in all capitals, or as those who dedicate themselves to the study of typography would say, ‘Upper case’, however, only a very few, a select few, maybe even yourself¹, would ever think about why it may be this way, would dare contemplate, for even a moment or two, the various reasons why the author may have chosen to do this, and what it was, ultimately, meant to convey to you, the reader. Now, I’m not here to tell you what conclusions those special ones among you, who give more than a passing thought to things, see further than most, think deeper than the rest, should come to about why I chose to present the title in all capitals, or to suggest you consider what possible purpose I believed served by titling this post, ‘BONES ON THE FROZEN GROUND’, as opposed to, ‘Bones in the Grass’, or, ‘Bones Found in the Frozen Grass’ or even simply, ‘Bones’ which while descriptive of what seems to be the central focus of the image is, in the estimation of anyone who thinks ‘deeper than the rest’, a pathetic effort at titling. Be that as it may, at this point, your head swimming with a myriad of questions, but due to my having told you at an earlier time that everyone gets only one question, you choose, from the doubtless incalculable number available, to ask me,”What kind of bones”?, and, after tilting my head oddly from side to side, and exhaling loudly I answer, “Who can say”? Yes, yes, I know, believe me, I know I could certainly guess, but by guessing and then presenting my guess to you a great disservice would be done to the furtherance of the mystery I was attempting to convey in the first place. For, if you have never experienced it first hand, let me assure you that coming across a pile of bones, especially as I did these, far from any signs of civilization, save the asphalt road running off across the barren landscape and disappearing into the rugged mountains far in the distance, is an experience at once shocking in an ancient, primal way, stoking unimagined fears in one’s gut while setting every single nerve on edge, and as well, for those special few I mentioned previously (again, perhaps even yourself), a sobering existential experience not easily come back from.

So now, here we are, myself, and those very few chosen (be it by some God, or chance, we may never know) who are capable of attaining higher levels of understanding, who go the extra mile to walk in not only another human’s shoes, but also go what is sometimes referred to, in whispers, by sages and mystics, as the eternal mile in order, for even a brief moment, to attain some deeper, more real, appreciation for the universe as a whole. Breathe deeply, my friend, you, apart from those countless others, have made it, have ascended to the very top as I all along knew you would, and, as no doubt, if they were not lost forever in ‘the mists of time’, the ancient stone tablets, covered in strange writing, would proclaim to all as your destiny.

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bones

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.¹ The answer as to whether or not it is ‘you’ I write about here I cannot provide, and doubt very much that anyone else, even the very creator of this world as well as any possible others that may, like us, hang in the dark vastness of space, can, but instead only humbly suggest that you could look for the answer, if you have the time, and there is nothing else worth doing, within yourself.

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Okay, I’m finished with the vacuuming

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This doesn’t mean, however, that I have the time, or, that I am at all in the mood for what has before been described by many people with exemplary credentials as ‘your nonsense’. I would, though, like to share with you something that while some of you may, in fact, expel an audible gasp upon looking at it, I believe it is essential that anyone wishing to have a fuller understanding of myself and the wonderful Institute I founded, and alone operate, look at the image of a bowl that accompanies this post for a period of no less than 30 seconds while contemplating that there is something in the bowl which I am nearly completely convinced a good deal of you (especially those of you who are naturally squeamish) would not want to see.

Thank you,

The President and Founder

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I’ve got some vacuuming to do

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And, as such, I won’t have the usual amount of time for what is generally agreed upon as ‘your nonsense’. However, I would very much like to leave you with two quotes that I at one time came across, one through the medium of television, and the other through the reading of a book. I hope you enjoy them, and I will see you when my work, or actually not my work, for that is a task much like the one that Sisyphus was compelled to undertake, but instead, when the vacuuming is complete.

your friend and confidant,

The President and Founder

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Still, as a storyteller, I’m fascinated how a person’s sense of consciousness can be… so transformed by nothing more magical than listening to words. Mere words.

– Jose Chung ‘The X Files’ From Outer Space

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“The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use them.”

– Philip K. Dick

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But don’t say you weren’t warned

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Hey, I was hoping I caught you early enough to offer the suggestion that you make today an adventure. If not, I guess you could always make tomorrow an adventure, that is, if you’ve already set today aside as a chore.

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About three in the afternoon

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Yeah, it was at about three when the doubt descended upon me. It seemed, at that time, that the spirit of The Varmint Trap (peace be upon it) did abandon me, and I, acutely aware of my solitude within the vastness of The Institute (peace be upon it)  did, for some moments, fear of what was to become of me, as well as all of the many representation I had, up until that point, created of The Varmint Trap (peace be upon it). Will I, after what may be a relatively brief internment upon the purple couch, be once more reunited with the absolute surety of my oneness with The Varmint Trap (peace be upon it)? Well, we shall see, but, I would not worry so much, for if you’re up on your prophecy, as everyone should be, then, I think you know already how this is going to all work out, don’t you? Of course you do.

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King Wah

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A CELEBRATION WITH DIGITAL IMAGES

(offered humbly)

I realize, sadly, that I can never stand with you, my friends, beneath the actual King Wah sign, but have tried, with these few digital images, to allow those of you who wish to imagine it a moment of that glorious experience.

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A court jester with a broken heart

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I’m not going to lie to you, not this time, there’s no reason to, though, don’t think I wouldn’t in a pinch, I mean, if I had no choice, I mean, if it meant the difference between ‘the whole thing blowin’ sky high’ and your, I don’t know, let’s say, ‘your feelings’, well, what do you think? That’s right, you’d be a little down in the dumps, but, hey, you’d get over it. Don’t you usually? Eventually, anyway, right? Of course you do. So, alright, listen, now that another unimaginable disaster has, once again, been averted there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…

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take me

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Believe me

you do not want to go

to TV City

for

(I swear to you)

there is not a single blade of grass to be found

(anywhere)

and the girls

(from the few I saw I would say)

well,

they’re not what you’d call

“conventionally pretty”

and

other than that

what is there?

Ah, yes

Fortune and Fame

Of course!

So desired and despised

sought after by all

the world over

by

(for example)

urchin’s livin’ under the street

and

hard cases

that are tough to beat

who readily admit to being your charity case

and demand you buy them something to eat

all the while offering

to pay you at another time

pointing one long dirty finger

toward the end

of an inconceivably long line¹

Oh, such an oft told story that

passed from father to son

written down in beautiful script

by the monks of old

carved into stone as well

by interesting aborigines

so nothing surprising there really

which is but one

of the many reasons

I would never suggest you visit

TV City

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poet

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.¹ These words in italics (though, if I were to be honest, and there’s really no reason, right now, for me not to be, the whole damn Poetization) are heavily influenced by, if not outright stolen from, the classic song ‘Paradise City’ written by Axl Rose, Slash, Izzy Stradlin, Duff McKagan, Steven Adler, and performed (completely rocked, actually) by Guns N’ (fuckin’) Roses, which, if for some reason you don’t know, because, say, you’re an alien being or something, appeared on the album ‘Appetite for Destruction’which, right now I have none of, and, why, I have once again, but with very good reason, lied to you.

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All New Sketchbook (for the ages)

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AND INTRODUCING

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HOSH-KABOO!

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Yes, Hosh-Kaboo©, the new (though they don’t know it yet) friend of The Floating Head and Wilson!

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Those moments (brief in passing, but eternally lasting) when choosing is no longer a choice

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More than a lot of you, my friends, like myself, for the sake of the continuation of our civil society, have had, on occasion, no choice but to restrain your tongue when it, as if a being with its own will, did, with a force almost beyond reckoning, attempt to escape through your lips, and ferociously fling all manner of horrendous words that were best left never spoken. Ah, yes, what strength one has to muster for beating back that devil tongue, wanting, as it does, with narrow minded devotion, to wreak rack and ruin upon all decent men and the institutions they have striven to create for the betterment of all. Just the same, those like you, who, like me, cannot help but see do throw ourselves quite willingly, and without hesitation into the fray for the future.

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“I, sadly, am no seer, never once have I looked past the veil into tomorrow, but, I am able, like most, to judge things from experience, and from that I can very well see that you could certainly be correct in your estimation of future events.”

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Somewhere in the New World ( A Photograph with Words Specifically Chosen and then Edited by the Artist )

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. You may recall

my mentioning

a recent adventure

into

‘The Wilds of America’

well

this photograph is from that

previously described episode

taken by me

at great personal risk

that I’d rather not go into

if you don’t mind

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