As I post these journals gleanings, they’re appearing in chronological order. But as they accumulate, they will also be read in reverse order. How curious.
Excerpting from the next volume of Spiralbound Hippies, with commentary from now.
~*~
FIRE: the great connecting link between all symbols. Joining mind and matter, vice and virtue, etc. “The most conflicting elements [values?] in a single image.” Double-meaning, destruction and creation [the phoenix].
Saint Anthony fire: he was more feared than worshiped. Pagan superstitions carried into Xristian mosaic.
A partial return to a Jewish sense of Satan as instrument of G-d. Pandemonium under thrall of Satan. Laws of nature have collapsed, obliterated distinctions between Truth and lies.
Life, in Bosch, midway between good and evil.
The paradoxical becomes possible.
The triumph of the strawberry!
$2.30 taxi fee to work today. [Nearly an hour’s pay.]
Polly: “I’m no materialist but I am learning from living with Ajax that money is very important at times.” Security breakdown: food and rent worries.
She said I look more like a painter than a writer.
Her parents found out about her situation with Ajax. Best wishes for his Bayville journey tonight.
Parts for my car finally arrived, Spring Valley station.
Did I make a trip to Dayton in here? Take some of my goods back, perchance? [Had already resolved to move to the ashram in late fall: felt, rightly, I had much unfinished business to attend to first.]
~*~
Girls? “Oh, you know, typical bitch,” sez Tom.
“Lost in that red meat of Rembrandt” – sez Pound.
Rainbow got an abortion. Thus, the tension with Speedo.
Fryyr up!
My earliest memory, age 2: people in yellow raincoats and some gray in the mist or fog on the boat at bottom of Niagara Falls. So why didn’t I record the falling water or roar?
Their adolescent neighbor believes her mother is a whore: “I knew it when I saw her walking down the street arm-in-arm with a Black man.” [Let’s be honest about the racial stereotyping.]
Luna, angrily, “Am I your wife or just your fukkin’ lay?”
Moose, laughing, “What’s the difference?”
Blueberry farm: Meeker, like Hub! Water cannon booming.
Donald Barthelme is right: art in our time is collage: television, a collage of ads and story: museum a collage of paintings or other artifacts, exhibits: libraries, a collage of books and magazines: we are a collage of consuming.
Incas built without mortar: each stone complete harmony/union within wall.
Swimming into sleep.
Pd car insurance $170.
Shifted into brown ink.
Economics dilemma: what happens when there’s free energy? [Solar, wind, tides?]
A novel is a private experience, requiring each reader to create own vision of characters, settings, etc. Film is public, shared – a group creation, just look at credits, Yet a novel is much longer, including reader time commitment: it is created in solitude, reflection.
From Sci Am: “For many cultures of ancient times, springs were sacred places, perhaps because the phenomenon of water issuing from the earth without any apparent source seemed magical.”
From Fay I learned to raise my eyebrows, opening my eyes wider: a movement to say hello … seems some acquaintances now know me this way.
Quick trip to Arrowhead after work on Saturday early shift … great time on the raft … what was happening at the camp?
Skye used to play cello. Her younger sister has a $25,000 Galluci or some such. [Four years’ pay by my measure.]
~*~
~*~
Long list of meanings for PICK, too.
Stanton, addicted to working Saturday mornings, Midwestern heritage: work hard! No interference on Saturdays, creative joy.
“It blows my mind that you open yourself so totally to me. You don’t tell me anything about your job, your family, your home. You just show me your power. If I never see you again, you will always be close to me. I never knew contacts between people could be so joyful.”
So was this something someone told me or rather something from Be Here Now or another ideal?
Am surprised I fill this volume in within a single month.
[Incinerated]
Jnana's Red Barn 