Friday, April 2, 2010

: Drunk couple lean on a concrete green flaked wall bisected by a brown  wide stripe.   One  from the window.
 3 : 1  7  am.
Boy  tired, a girl bored.  Music noone is aware of.    M. Ward distant.  No words.   Weird Daniel piano.
 Beige ashtray, crusted spine.

B  Friday, the lake?
G  Need to study.  Morning or afternoon
B  If morning you'll never go
G  You won't leave me or the bed
B  that's a good plan
G  We won't know until  morning
B   I can't imagine later that morning will count
G  Sleep.  Lets go.
B  One more beer or I'll walk asleep
G  Its a long walk,
B  No sitting?
G  Not every week.
B  Glory days-no lines
G  no memory
B  Can't stop memory.  I remember things never tried  or  never wanted.  (drains green bottle back)      
   Many things I forgot like fifth grade.

G  Couldn't have been  interesting.   I don't remember how old.
B  So if you would remember tomorrow what would you do?
G  You don't want to know. Not the lake, maybe not  you.
B  Too late to tell me.
G  Pay or leave money.
B  Five minutes

 Fifteen minutes later, he hid a beer.  He  grabs the steel in the glass door and they walk into  yellow light.
Breathes, a tree from cement.  All ahead.  He will.
She thinks better.  Needs to leave, waste.
To wake up alone.   Get out early. Drunkenness..  Church in the afternoon.
Voices on a staircase.  The sleeping have given up.
Grey sparrow its head under wing, peering down. Confused jay  alone chirping.
College mopped by singers with arms  tired surrendering.   Profit  in the tile churns up new tools.
Twenty five years later men reach to a shadow, remembering more.

Love snuggles, leagues away into a forever man.
Our personality is almost a shroud over this mind. Certainly our ego is. Only one chef in the kitchen, one master of the house. So we go through different disciplines, religions, searching for this other that must be out there because we are repulsed by our own neural anatomy and will do anything but face it, our singularity.
We may believe and it may serve the brain's interest that we have overcome the challenge to all, of the child, which is the brain's earliest actions but some part of the gel inside the bony shell never forgets its real predicament.
The continuing product of Evolution is the maturation and growing complexity of neural fabric.
Aspects which can be distinguished have to be learned later. Much of early learning is simple labelling.
Is there a value or truth to be obtained by returning to the infant state which the brain appears to desire at all times?
What is society but a series of rooms where cerebra feel comfortable and protected
Spaces which provide necessary rules permitting the mind to hope it is free (e.g. saved) or at least cared for
The infant at first does not recognize its own body and in our own infantile conception of ourselves we do not recognize our anatomical reality as cerebra. We expend 80% of our effort in service, indulgence and even worship of the body. What is winning the war?