Archive for February, 2020|Monthly archive page

Living In Limbo, Still

“Of the crime” of quarantine.  Invisible.  These human crime- sprees in social distancing.  Hoarding, or just the idea. With no one to root for, in cyberspace.  Alone.  Bored.  

Like living in Limbo.

Left in Limbo.  Immunity, under the LAW.  You cannot sue the King and his church, with the churchyards.  The surveyors, thereof. 

“Did you ever have to make up your mind?”

The Garden of Eden, with all the nothing inside this pair. 

The NO THERE there, in your concept of Paradise! 

TAKE THIS! Take THIS and move it somewhere.  Into the outside world.

Existence.  Second hand stories.   All the hedges, all the bodies still here.  All the division.   All the NIHILISM out there.  We all are needing someone, beyond the so-called Promise Land, to send a love letter to. 

The ghosts.  Their cemeteries, but surveyed by whom?  On burial, on religion, with the advice of counsel in Sweeney’s, on the eve of a wedding.  In Saint Paul, the capital city.  

Letting your wife make all the decisions.   About domestic life.  Until the women’s movement.  And then your 18-year-old daughter?   Our own kind of JAP.  These princesses.  These kids, just living in Limbo. 

In civil wars, the ghost still here, like in Israel and Judah …. or from that war in Korea.

The war dead.  This place if not the theme, IF not the MEME:  the MEMORY…

“I don’t know what it is. The effort is there . . . but sometimes I don’t know if their minds are there.  I’ve never been through a situation like this.  That we make so many bad plays fundamentally, I think, is a reflection on me.”   —  Whitey Herzog as he quit

Left in Limbo.  The  Thing You Carry.  If not me, who?

“I hold you in contempt.”  But to be held where, in contempt?  By this NO THERE there generation which is always the lasting effect of any civil war on a land.  

There is tension over what you were born into.  Trying to just see Cassstro naked. 

Living in Limbo, with all the NOTHING except a guilt if not despair OVER the historic period when a new government had begun to take shape.  

Living on the local level, dying on a larger level, the essence, in how God created ghosts, is in The Story.  Once there was ….. the testament.  Our testament, living on the local level … dying on a local level.   Old ones, new ones.  The Joint Task Force.  The eye of the artist.  The home of a carpenter.  To dare create, with soul.

The testament of…. once there was a….. the ghosts….these comebacks. 

Take THIS …. Cyber people, and move it somewhere.  To the outside world.

So whose are stronger?

Did you ever have to make up your mind?

Yes, did you ever have to make up your mind?

Ashes.  Ash Wednesday.  To have a plan, at the end.  On your last day.  So your mother wouldn’t have to worry.  About your funeral.

The collective ashes: The tension over what you were born into, either “Willing” or not.  In the metaphor of taxes versus sacrifice, what exactly is inevitable?  It never is death and tax.  It IS this unwilling life versus willing, accompanied by The Gratitude.

The finest fruit, finest land, the finest women.  The fine art.  Do you remember the excitement the first time that you fell…..in love, like with a writer?  The written word.  And then he wrote a second book.  And she did.  That you had a second chance to get inside their head.  Trying to just see Cassstro  naked, again.   Left in Limbo, down South, with all the NOTHING except a guilt over the historic period when a new government has begun to take shape.   

The essence of ghosts, once created here, living on the local level, dying on a larger level.  Our story, once ….. a testament.  Our testament.  Old ones, new ones, the Joint Task Force.  The testament of…. once there was a….. the ghosts.  These comebacks, written with the  eyes of the artist.

To dare create, with soul, with the crime to desire the best.  The human crimes of this desire for the best … lands, the best…. spouse.  The best ….son.  To bet on only the future, in good times and in bad.  In the best … house?  Here under the Rule of Law, to never bet on what has past, but on the future.

Art is never easy.  So, whose future is it going to be?   For the Department of Environmental Quality, nothing ever really changes except soil vapor intrusion.  The best and the brightest …with instruction to a niece to project your future.  Isn’t college some form of bet on on the future:  spending your time and my money … on KNOWLEDGE?  In going NOT back to the future.

In this chronology, with soil vapor intrusion… ghosted.  It all changes when you die.  The ghosts do not get along?  To abstain, like to fast, from food.  To abstain from religious ritual.  To abstain from this collective fast…. the voluntary.  Like Alms-giving.  To cut off, for others, because you have either ENOUGH or just TOO MUCH.  With or without  Gratitude, following the first cut … as a volunteer.

Left in Limbo, with all the NOTHING except a guilt over the soil vapor intrusion.  The experts IN soil and conservation, in the chronology of ghosts, after husbands and wives do not get along, after brothers do not get along; after nephews and uncles do not get along; after even handmaids and masters do not get long: the STORY…  exhuming General Franco.

Your remains.  Belonging to whom?  The cemetery?  The EPA?  A public space?  Having to share public space, with others.

In The Words of The Gettysburg Address.  To so dedicate this public space.

The THING you carry.  Origin.  From your creator(s).  Having to share the remains of your Creator, before you die?  In the leftovers, This Dedication of The Land, with The Truth possessed by the Land, at the end.  The Good Earth.  What once happened here, so often denied.