Ezines

Offerings!

Laughing Sun
C/Oasis

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Original Work! 

Political Meditations
Billboard
Current events

Resources!

Classifieds
Jobs!

Ah, you damn factories, railroads, jets, ships, fast-food restaurants, houses, apartments mobile homes, cars, service stations, general stores, busses, glass buildings, trucks, street lights, avenues, freeways! Be gone! Vanish from my sight! Every day I get up, eat something, go to work, eat, leave and watch them either try to screw someone other or make a million dollars during the day. In the case of bureaucrats, making sure things move as roughly as possible.

Buildings! Phalluses stuffed with bindu but the seed is sterile.

"It isn't dear friend, science against religion; that argument is a dead one. It is the creative power of human beings against the management/organization of modern states."

The Hospital was a looming concrete non-profit that survived off of pregnant women and wealthy recovering drug and alcohol addicts. There were, hidden as it were, fascinating conversations in the bowels of the Hospital or, as the employees called it, the Hotel. In the business office of the Hotel were pound fundamentalists like James who called himself a preacher of the Baptist Church and claimed he had great powers of his own including speed reading, mind reading and other powers conferred on him by his faith in the Holy Spirit. He spoke of Jesus and claimed that Jesus, before he taught, collected the apostles around him to protect Him from what James called, "the interference."

The young woman is more gentle in her religion. She hears voices in the back of her mind, conscience, which is God telling her what to do as a 7th Day Adventist. The woman, Tanya, has just read the Iliad and asked the man beside her. "Have you read the Iliad?" "Yes." She showed the man a translation she was reading for her class on the Greek World. She is very disparaging about the gods. She is fascinated about the oral story telling aspects of the Iliad, amazed at how one could hold all that information in their head at one time. She says she once went to plays but not too often now. One play, Caesar and Cleopatra, had impressed her because it was humorous.

The man in the Hotel started thinking about the Greeks. Despite the apparent foolishness of their gods, they certainly had several advantages the present world lacked. Their gods were not ideals but patterns one could extend if a guy had the courage too; even though his fate would, eventually, defeat him. "Perhaps," he mused, at his desk late at night listening to the whir of the copy-machine, "there was more freedom under such patterns."

Several days later he heard himself say down the bright-lit street roaring with cars, "push through form the shared complain of the world and the shared joy of the world."

At the Hospital he renewed his interest in women. The attractive and sweet Tanya. They loved to talk to each other about anything. Anne, too, the bright runaway he felt close to but something held him back. And then the Parisian entered the picture and he fell apart and agreed to show her all around San Francisco. He studied French in a two-day session to say something to her. He wanted to know something about her but not pry as he sometimes foolishly did. And yet, he thought, I am not a stone. I'm attracted to her yet her boyfriend is coming from France next week. Ignorance of passion teaches best what it is!

A new woman. Before the shy, awkward young man who doesn't know what this woman wants, not knowing the secrets she contains; living in a state of exquisite psychology.

After the divorce, a chain of disastrous women: little conversations in little cafes in lost little curls of smoke. New York woman. Pregnant, six months. Boyfriend is thinking of leaving her. Ah, the beautiful philosophy student who didn't want to talk about philosophy or Heraclitus or any of them. Ah, the one with the butterfly tattoo. The useless excursions with women. Nil. They were reminders of the state of my writing; they were in correspondence somehow. The expressive eyes of the woman, how she would attempt to coax information out of me, always a bit alienated as though she knew she would never quite be accepted the way she wanted to be and her imagination working furiously to ether cover up this fact or to figure out why this was so. And I would know this and make a remark of some kind which they probably took the wrong way. Yes, how one sees women is how one sees the work. This is why I've sometimes been harsh on women I've known and the same time feel rejected by them.