Apologia Revisited

Even if you aren’t reading this,

…this moment,…these words…this testament

is for all of you, as well as for each of you…

the heroines of all my never-ending torch songs.

My heroines, my heroin…

Perhaps I wasn’t your best friend after all,

but not for nothing…you can’t say I didn’t try.

I’m a weaver of dreams, a conjuror of spells,

but I fear the realities I brought you 

did not live up to the Great Expectations I inspired

until I disappointed the Dickens out of you.

“I’m sorry” I say

“Is there nothing I can do?” I ask

as you sadly shake your head (“no”).

as a small part of me dies inside.

This is what I do time and again.

‘til you’d think I’d grow weary of it,

but no, I just grow so very,…very weary

of letting you down again.

I didn’t want to be that guy…after all…

I was the guy who taught you Grand Theft Auto

(not the video game…)

The guy who took you

camping, or fishing, or diving or hunting

smuggling guns or contraband and stolen

works of art over state lines,

screwing like cats in heat at turnpike rest stops,

driving too many hours with too little sleep

were it not for ‘better living through chemistry’

You were the first to jump right in with me, wherever

whatever magic helped raise the ante

back when it was still fun

to live dangerously and without fear…

walking past chalk lines to do the Devil’s bidding

like it was a game of (hip-) hop-scotch.

Whether copping a feel or a few stolen kisses

still took our breath away.

I was the guy your parents warned you about

even after they found me charming, witty and bright,

because they didn’t know I was also that other guy…

 wasn’t that a part of the appeal….?

I was the Serpent in the Garden and you were my Primordial Eve.

You became my co-conspirator.

You followed me into

sleazy clubs in basements underground;

in practice houses, and lived in industrial neighborhoods,

a haunted house way out in the country

next to a cemetery where no one else would live

or warehouse districts, or wherever I found a place,

playing guitar so loud you thought your eyeballs would bleed

and your ears would ring for weeks on end,

where we would hold out like outlaws day and night.

You went with me to rifle and pistol ranges, and dojos,

living in houses filled with guns and ammo

(not the magazine….),

the walls of entire rooms lined with amplifiers to the ceiling,

guarded by dangerous dogs who loved you

almost as much as me

and would have killed for you as you would for me

or I for you,

when it seemed like that moment

was just around the next turn in the story.

There was a knife and a gun in every drawer

and under each pillow each night.

We slept in tents, on floors, in cars and trucks,

or high-rise apartments overlooking the bay

that we could never afford,

if not for the generous benefactors

we chose to entertain.

We watched porn together. We made porn together,

Hell, we were porn together

and everything we ever did was either Art or Music.

We painted everything in sight.

We sketched and photographed each other

while we played and sang with such conviction

I don’t know how our hearts didn’t burst.

We learned to dance the Apocalypso

on the razor’s edge ‘til dawn

and got up and did it all over again.

We drove way too fast through downtown traffic

any time of day, whichever way we were going,

or late at night along the beach with the lights out

or up on the Interstate, illuminated by

flamingo-pink sodium vapor lights;

stopping on the causeways over Biscayne Bay

just long enough to remind each other of who we were

and just where we were just then.

When every moment alive together was a miracle.

We fucked on the perimeter road around MIA,

(Em-Eye-Eh)

with the planes maybe a hundred feet

over our heads, engines screaming

and one eye looking out for cops

with nothing better to do

than to wish they could have been us.

No matter where we went or what we did

it seemed like I could talk my way

into or out of anything or anywhere

and charm the birds from right out of the trees,

particularly if it meant staying out of jail…or worse

(but most especially if I thought it might impress you.)

But most of all, I let every one of you down

one way or another.

…so many memories of that defining moment

when you knew it was over,

leaving me to figure it out later….

I played grasshopper to your ant

well into our winter of discontent.

It didn’t turn out happily ever after…

it never has and probably never will,

for me or for you….

Maybe it never does.

Maybe it’s not supposed to…

I just hope you can look back and remember

those few golden moments we shared, the same fondness,

with the same lack of reservations we shared back then

before we gave a thought to how it all might end,

because it was the beginnings and everything in between

that made it all worthwhile for me…

and each ending too beautifully, poignantly sad to just be forgotten

back when I was just me and you were just you

before we ever thought about tomorrow….

If I had the chance to do it all over again

I’d do it all over you.

It just took me too long to realize

that not being a bad person

didn’t make me a good person.

(…but not for nothing)

You can’t say I didn’t try.

Who can say they did all of it,

and gave their all with all of me?

(You know who you are, n’est-ce pas?)

Just you…

Because before there was you and me, Darlin’

each one of the others saw something special

to show me about myself that took me higher,

‘tho some cut me low before they were thru.

But I cannot deny

each one of them didn’t teach me a thing or two

I hadn’t yet learned

so that maybe it wouldn’t happen

the same way to me and you.

So here we are now just you and just me

and those wantonly willing hostages

whomever we take as we continue together

until

The End.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  a March 9th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, into and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Merely a Series of Unfortunate Coincidences? The Illusion of Synchronicity…Sorry for the Inconvenience…and now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

At approximately ten PM on July the 16^th, my brother was pronounced dead in an Emergency Room approximately one thousand miles from my current home. He was two years younger than I.

In less than six years he managed to turn a five-bedroom French Colonial mansion into a landfill, starting with the second floor, which he occupied while my parents were still alive.

Alcoholism and poor judgment based on bad legal advice has rendered the entire estate uninhabitable and facing a sea of legal encumbrances that would prevent me from even taking my parents’ wedding album or my own high school yearbooks from the premises.

In less than seven months’ time since my mother passed away, the kitchen, dining room and front parlor will now require a hazmat team to clean up the mess he left, which in some places was knee-deep.

Power and water services have been disconnected. There is two feet of standing water in the basement.

We were forced to stay at a local motel.

After waiting nearly a week, I was still unable to make arrangements to have his ashes scattered over the graves of my parents, and was forced to leave to return to work.

My parents’ Lutheran minister seems to (correctly) suspect that my wife and I are Pagans, and insisted on being present to say a few words and prayers over my brother’s remains, although he was busy at a conference in St. Louis at the time.

It is my understanding that he still is in possession of his ashes.

My father died two years ago, and my mother passed away on December 30^th of 2013. While we were there, I installed two solar powered carriage lamps to light their gravesite at night.

On the way home, I was struck by the question “Who will see the lights?”

It takes somewhere between twenty-four and twenty-nine hours to drive to my parents’ home…and the same amount of time to return.

The only resting or sleeping done in either direction consisted of short naps at designated rest areas or while Suki was driving and one meal not eaten in the vehicle enroute.

Several hours after my first day back at work, I was diagnosed at a local ER with a DVT, or Deep Vein Thrombosis in my left leg. It is potentially life-threatening.

A new miracle oral drug called Xarelto has allowed me to convalesce at home without the customary four-day hospital admittance with intravenous drug therapy and frequent blood tests.

My healthcare insurance provider does not cover this medication, which can cost as much as four hundred dollars per month on average. My employer is a prescription drug plan administrator.

The irony of the fact that many of the plans my employer administers for other providers are much more generous in terms of the coverage, or cost of co-payments and premiums than the policy provided to company employees is not lost in moments like these.

Fortunately, the manufacturer is providing it for free for the first month, and only five dollars per month for the next two months I will need to take it. It would also appear that my annual salary is low enough to qualify me for hardship benefits…really? Really?!?! …Yeah, really.

After a week of bed rest under the skillful care of both my wife Suki and the lovely and talented Anastasia, I am slowly returning to full health.

If you absolutely have to get sick, plan on doing it under the care of a nurse, or better still, two of them…(especially if they are close friends with each other)…the right nurses can make almost anything better, and these two could turn a disaster into a block party.

“Sic hoc ergo propter hoc” means literally “after this, therefore because of this”. It represents what is regarded in the scientific community as one of the commonest flaws of logic, which is to assume that mere juxtaposition somehow implies a relationship between two or more possibly unrelated events.

Synchronicity is a term coined by Carl Jung, who initially identified an “acausal relationship” between the simultaneous occurrence of two or more unrelated psycho-physic phenomena.

Jung and his associates later noted, however that our ability to perceive meaning, portent or omen in the simultaneity of the events allows us to “assimilate unconscious materials”, thereby encouraging us to experience a renewal and vitalization of our unilateral personality. In this way, our sentience enables us to construct order out of chaos.

This is a process well-known to both the Chinese (I Ching, Consulting the Oracle of Changes) and the aboriginal peoples of what is now called North America, whose shamanistic traditions divined meaning and direction from occurrences within the natural world.

As unfortunate and sad as the recent series of events are, they are hopefully merely a series of unfortunate coincidences. They were replete with enough foreshadowing and ominous portents to fill up any novel by Nathanial Hawthorne or Theodore Dreiser.

Were I so inclined, I could spend the rest of my life waiting for “the other shoe to drop” and in the process miss whatever joyous opportunities await, barring superstition and fear.

On the other hand, those of us who are inclined to believe in the in the interconnection between the finite physical world and the more elusive and occult ethereal worlds do have the opportunity to reflect, if you will, on the interconnection of all things, even in the midst of random chaos.

I have missed you all these past four weeks…although it would appear that nobody noticed I was gone….

As my heath returns, I will be doing my best to make up for lost time, despite the fact that the expression is in itself an oxymoron.

I have been told that some of my more charming attributes are my irreverence, glib facetiousness, and affectionate preoccupation with anarchy and the self-determinism of lawless disregard for other people’s rules, and this trip was no exception. It was in part a journey into the heartland of America (or the Heart of Darkness), as well as an opportunity to skylark in the midst of loss and sorrow.

Somewhere between the extremes, illumination awaits us.

You be the judge.

As soon as I consult my advisors as to how to tell the story without subjecting myself to incarceration for any number of possible felonies that might be construed as to having been committed, I will be sure to share it with you.

…and now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

 

 

 

 

THFWS: The Square Circle

The Square Circle

As the guests continued to drift in to Ash and Kali’s home in silence, Merle began to address the other Six about the theory of what they are trying to accomplish, how it relates to Indian Medicine and the significance of the lines neatly laid out on the polished wooden floor in tape, like marks to cue actors on a stage.

First, the outside perimeter is in the shape of a square, with the four corners matching the cardinal points of the compass. Merle is the North. Darcy is the South. Suki is the East. Charles is the West.

Additionally, a circle is centered within the square. Its outer edges touch the sides of the circle. This is the Universal Circle, to be occupied by Ash and Kali. Man and Woman. Yin and Yang. Proton and Neutron.

The combined shapes superimposed upon each other are often called The Square Circle, meant to represent a boxing ring to sportsmen, but for tonight’s purposes it would help envision the balances and multiplications of power and the ways of Majic.

Each of the four cardinal points faces each other inwardly to the circle. This represents the Medicine Wheel. Behind each of them is a large mirror on a floor stand, facing another mirror on the opposite corner creating a feedback of cascading images within the images allowing each member to see both forwards and backwards at the same time reflecting smaller and smaller images into each other. Ash and Kali are free to move within the circle and are often back to back, leaving Mark alone outside the boundaries.

For several minutes they stand naked before each other.

Merle looks at Darcy, whose attentions seem divided between Mark and him. Mark looks at Darcy, sees the longing in her eyes for Merle, and can only stare back at Darcy. Kali and Ash watch everyone, including Charles and Suki, who seemed to be absorbed in assessing the complex dynamic of the group, exchanging knowing looks. Finally, Merle speaks.

“Mark, we know both what you feel as well as what we already know between us. Your feelings for Darcy are new and the Crush of Love, that breathtaking feeling of falling without impact has infatuated the very best of every waking moment in your Here and Now. It is a beautiful and wondrous thing that inspires and empowers you.”

“The angst you feel right now is the conflict of acknowledging not only Darcy’s, but also your own perverse curiosity, as well as her desire to share her darkest secrets with you, to face your fears together. I have loved you like a brother for a few years now, and there is much we have shared together, including our mutual love for Kali. Through all of this, there has been no intrigue or subterfuge, only the sharing of truths, of wisdom, and power.”

“Emotion is power. Power attracts more power. Our pursuit of the Wisdom and Knowledge of the Ancient Ones requires tremendous power, and as the Sacred Fire within the Universal Circle, your energies can help us summons up and draw down their ideas, energies and assistance. Your proximity to Ash and Kali will help balance and channel you.”

“The exhilaration that Darcy, you and I will exchange provides us with an opportunity to surpass the commonplace, break down the barriers and limitations that weaken us only by default, by our acquiescence to the conventions of a captive society kept in place by the tyranny of fear, guilt, shame, superstition, and self-doubt. Please take your place in the center of the Universal Circle as the Sacred Fire.”

Mark was visibly intrigued by Merle’s words. As they watched, his face changed as he processed them for meaning. Looks of relief, amusement, recognition, and acknowledgement washed over his countenance like waves swelling over jagged rocks.

It was good to know that he held a place, an important and vital place in their mutual quest. It takes a very special kind of courage to embrace jealousy, insecurity, fear, and envy head-on and view it as a challenge for growth and personal development, rather than some dreaded obstacle to your uninterrupted dreams of unearned bliss. Everything has a price. Easy, singular puppy love is fragile and vulnerable to the inevitable challenges that in and of themselves can ward off entropy and boredom, and keep love fresh, alive and vital.

Every convention of civilization and societal norm is subject to healthy challenge; to be cracked open like a prized nut to learn what precious kernel of enlightenment can be extracted from its stony armor.

Merle continued. “Since early times, the South comes up to the North to bring sunshine and warmth to the cold North, but it cannot stay or else the North would become too warm. Because of this, we have seasons for all things. There is permanence in the cycles of impermanence, which give us balance according to each season.”

The activity and intensity of the visions that swirled, flashed, drifted and emerged has been increasing since the group began to form the circle. Numerous points of light begin to fly into the circle, bouncing off the mirrors as a glow begins to envelop the group like St. Elmo’s fire, while its eerie electric-blue luminance bathes everything it touches.

Soon they will be at the peak for the serum levels of the Knowledge.

Majic is afoot.

“Boop-Oopa-Doop! What’s up, Toots?”

As Betty flew in the front door, conventional reality flew out the bathroom window.

 

Square Circle Leonardo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

St. Elmo’s fire on Masts of Ship at Sea (Photo credit: Wikipedia)