Kamton's blog

There once was a person who grew up with a set of beleifes, around certain people, in a certain culture. Some of what she was trained to understand did not serve her in many ways as she grew up, some of it did.

Of the parts that did not serve her, the hypocrisy bothered her.

She could only live her life as best as she could. at one point, there was a man who exemplified all of her ideals, and was also attractive in strange and psychologically interesting ways. For a while, that is. Eventually she realized that he was really no more than a person wearing her projection. he didn't like the attention she gave him and didn't like her either.

There came years long walk in the garden of torment. He knew her thoughts, he had hacked into her work for years now, as some kind of retribution for her attention toward him.

He pretended to like her, even love her, but always at the end was a gun and the accusations of her playing a victims role, but is really the wolf. So much of what was hurled at her was not first undestood.



She finally saw it. she had wasted so much energy in being unable to forgive him for not being what she sought, and for being an ass about it in ways that went far beyond what would have ended the situation once and for all, she was creatively ill.



There is no room for the 2 of us in any one place. You bring too many of your powerful games players.

Be gone from me, once and for all.



associate this:

Carousel

Carousel

The Fair

They were brought to the State fair on the school bus. They had no idea the ride they would be in for.

The Merry-Go-Round. (right click)

I wake in confusion, where am I? Proustly, realization slowly dawns. Across oceans many miles away, solar rays break over the top. In my room, it is yet dark, unless the switch is moved.

There is inside me, a growing sense of change, not only on the broad scale, minutely personal. We're always transitioning, but sometimes the move is more than stepping off the porch.

There is the carousel; just there... On the turning machine, horses dance, some with more animated steps than others. All are beautiful, even those grotesque. Their souls bring forth vision. Most horses are masked.

As a result of time and wear, the horses I have been closest to are not well masked, it appears their costume is transparent; I have seen the truth of who they are, for good or ill.

These horses are not intended for riding, they are for fellowship, and strength in the struggle of life.The hooves rumble on the wood planking, a continual swirl of dust low, at their feet. They run and they run...

Trotting along the platform in an eternal circle, I am in the herd as well, and although I am seen as a horse, I am allowed still to be myself.

I move to the outside of the platform, and watch as my usual companions continue on in the same path, unaware of the changing of the surroundings. Each sees the one ahead, the lightening and darkening beyond the edge of the music, paintings and lights is lost to them.

There is one, however, that I see moving through the pack to the outside. He looks quite familiar in his dusty beauty and I feel I have seen him before. While he nears, he holds back, adjusting his mask against my recognition. Wary, I suppose that I will ride him, clinging, into the pack, and miss the breaking dawn. .

The music grows more beautiful and I earnestly try and sing, but I am weak with worry about the din I create. I cannot help myself, however, it is so beautiful on the horizon.

I wonder ere long at the mystery before me. There is so much beauty to take in, and we see so much of the it lit in the same light from our respective places. Communal images appear, on the screens of our minds, but the uncertainty of the intention gives me pause. My heart sees the bright orange brilliance of soul connection and tells me it is manifest, yet my limbs ache as yesterday’s passing dream embrace wears away.

Qui Vive!

There was a dark horse. Is this a fool’s effort at Shakespearean drama? Perhaps a macabre opera?

Will we remove our masks? And shall the music and light be as brilliant? Of course, it shall, the wheels turn and the dancing horses have just awoken.

jesters, popes, and poets

Fort Ti0525

My framing reference was a Simeon pope,
standing in mockery with scepter in hand,.
Detective Link, just a passing joke,
still,  painted  my wall before we next spoke.

'Tis Ticinderoga, Stevenson's potency armed
we settled and slumbered where  canoes once drawn
from one passage to the next,
in commerce and war.
Where satins of pain and battles engraved
for those who followed to suffer insane? 
one long away  summer bespoke
spectral energy emergence
the question remains,
for ever more,
was it born soley beyond, or
from my own soul birthed?

the sport of a poet,
come to rebuke,
a suitors desire:
yet the jester neer 'pected such ions released,
would dawn one night with trees a wept,
bathed in silks of silvery mists.

Such a sandy friend did he promise would show,
like scrooges 4 callers,
'twas a puppeteer of Percy Byshe
and a bag of lark tricks.
which led a damsel to swoon
with romantic loves bliss.

Shiva's Blues

Shiva's Blues

Sing me a song with shaking fires
Together chained on sunny skies
Sing for freedom
Sit on Shiva's lap
To touch his bright side
His dark one is fading with your nightmares
You said a life for a life
I said a kiss for a kiss
to wash ourselves with light
Oh..my beloved one come with me!
Exile on earth
Well, If I tell you all my worries
my troubles and stories
my journeys and photographs
you'll say that I came from the dead...
but I came through the light into a 3-d movie
which I really like
Don't hold that candle!
have you ever see the sun?
It's me staring at you from Atlantis rooftop
I can see those anxious flowers in the green grass
Fullmoon feast
Nex Vindemia
One word
LOVE.

Sister city of Redland

Those spikes of excitement,
that soaring above on wings of felt love,
are they not always followed by the return to the ground,
into crevasses of felt "with-out-ness?"

What of those states? Does frequency of flight render us more likely to be aloft always,
or does it merely highlight the fact that we are earth creatures walking through the valleys
after climbing the peaks?

That state of externalization of love, so ariel, can we bring it into our inside rooms and let it light our soul?
I see how I can grasp that blue bird,
and in the roomy place of my inner being, it may take flight within, 
and save me from the heights which scare me when I see them from the dells.

it may be our own choice of ascension,
one of temporary bursts, and crashes
or of continuum of  peace  when  who may be called Creation is often invited to tea.

Romance of Redland, Miss.

It has been my experience that few people have any desire to identify with someone like me, and I can use my own experience to back up my perspective on this. Sure, they identify with me in projections, which means those qualities that they feel I posses really are qualities that they have disowned. 

So who would read a story about a woman pilot? People read about Amelia because she screwed up and wrecked the plane somewhere. Notoriety. But, what about the male legends? Chuck Yeager is a household name, and he was not even an astronaut. Who was the first woman in space? Do you recall?

 

Here is a typical stereo type that I have blundered into: “Could you ask the chef if HE could make the dish with the sauce on the side?” I recoil in self disgust when I am informed that she would be happy to.

 

So who would want to hear a midlife drama about a mediocre pilot and absentee mother? And anyway, is there any point in it? Do I even posses the quality of enlightenment in my life's flight bag? Maybe that is up to the reader to decide.

 

Maybe I am like that angel with one broken wing. I flew once, and I did such a bad job of it, I busted my gear.

 

I am morose today because my idea of therapy for autistic kids can spur seizures in them. The basis of my non-profit outreach center is in the toilet.

 

All week long, gods of various forms have been messaging me about “doing” something, from Neale Donny boy, to Starbuck and his cup of joe: “To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.” that attributed to Anne, described as an “organization builder” on that cuppa.

 

What are we trying to do here anyway? What good a valkyrie who has no target nor spear?

 

Its real hard for me to write with any certainty, my doubts about my personal objectivity cloud my awareness, as I embrace the ideal that what I am myself getting fired up about in other people is a quality that I myself posses. Perhaps it is true that just because I do not care to hear about my sister's exploits, neither will very many other people. I use the failed interest in my book as a point of reference. It would be quite interesting to see how much interest there really would be in the book if it were made known that Virgil did make several contributions to its content.

 

Looking at the world from his (or my imagined creation of his) perspective, I would see the lesson here of individual preference. Does it matter the name of the artist behind the work? In a perfect world it would not. We are flawed. Does it matter that he did not come public with his offering? Perhaps, yes it does matter in some ways, that he gave it, so as to stand on its own merits, and let see what would come of it.

 

What did come of it? Nothing, save more money out of my pocket in paying for a felon to edit it, and in a way contrary to my wishes. Even the people in my town didn't buy the book, my friends, people I grew up with. I have a hard time with that one. It hurts.

 

What else came of it? A season of psychosis, or a time of awakening? Both, depending on the lens you look through in your perception and understanding of what is and what may be.

 

Did I launch myself on a path of self discovery after the curtain closed on the drama and the beach scene of love's finding its soul-mate fell through the sand hourglass, and nothing was left at the top? Yes I did, and am I any better off for the discovery? I don't know.

 

You see you can learn about a practice, but unless you fully engage it, the results may be scant. Or is it that when we want results, there are none?

 

What practice have I embraced for myself? Well its a practice that works the areas of my experience, lines, if you will, and they are as such: emotional development, physical development, family development, relationship, career, spirit, and community service, world service, to name a few which are hot for me.

 

I have been trying to work from the bottom up, if you will, on myself, to the family, community, and world. Making a foundation to build my house upon, yet, parts of the foundation crumble away under the life-storms deluges. And all I accomplish on one line is washed away in several weeks of disingenuous practice.

 

I am wont to take disappointment very hard. I so want to create, and yet I find, or at least wonder, if the basis for my creations are flawed. I want to do something that makes a positive difference in other people's lives, yet I am in so many different localities all the time, I feel like I have no roots. Even at home, who can possibly take me seriously? What mother can leave her children for 3 months and go off and climb the ladder of career success?

 

So, I feel like I have no community, other than the virtual community that I have sought out here on line. And the nagging book title of “Life is real only then when I am” rings in my head as I stand back from many on line engagements of conversation. How can we be real with someone, if we don't know who it is on the other side of the computer screen?

 

There was a time when I felt the spirit was bursting out in me, in what I have been informed was merely a projection, wherein I felt I had a real connected second person experience with another and was falling in love with him. Just the kind of relationship that any Integral based person would understand: one of space, and yet passion, one of poetry and possibility.

 

But at what cost? Was it at the expense of the husband I had left that summer and returned to in the face of his putting our children out of their home, who is still where he will ever be developmentally, or was it my loss of soul in looking beyond the IS?

No one has been able to help me with this one: do we throw ourselves on our swords and wade through the redness of a marriage that has no ignition source other than the spark of his anger at past and current failings? Do I manufacture deep abiding for a man whose concern for my return has to do more with relieving his inflamed testicles that the physical expression of love? Where is my Love?

 

 

Where is my acceptance of the is here?

 

Ah, and the whisperings upon the air of letting go, letting go of attachments to ideals, which I suppose in this circumstance means the release of any hope for that “integral Romance” I spoke about, letting go of any plans to make a difference, letting go of the desire for peace and harmony inside and outside, letting go of all of that and in not seeking it, it will be delivered. And when I have achieved that point of release, it wont' matter anymore. Where the fuck is the humanity in that? Is it feel free to be fully human, but only on the shit side of the street, 'cause baby, if you look for somethin more, it aint commin your way...?

so when I hear talk of romance, it is exactly as one of his gestalts put it to me: “there is pain everywhere I look. “

 

And is that the pain of love, that shimmering pain of human suffering which shines the light on the perfect love that is attained when? When you numb yourself and stop caring?

 

Or have I been the fish in the water who cant see the water? Is the big integral romance for me over, after a mere season of flirting, for heaven forgive, we limit our experience to one person in that way, or maybe he doesn't do girls anyway?

 

Am I dwelling in the past? Well what is the past, or future? Any chance they are extension of the now? I hear you sister Barbi, there is no one Integral arising in my real world either. He did a drive by, a walk by and he saw and left. There was no accepting of me as I was, just as I don't accept my husband such as he is.

 

So who would read a book about the drama of a middle age pilot's mid-life crisis, or is it best seen a midlife awakening? Maybe only one which is peppered with celebrity, hidden cameras and promises of millions delivered by midnight calls from some paid Jamacian errand boy for a twisted mentor trying to find out what chakra I am at.

 

Consequences? Hmmm... none that I can see. If you know any pig barbers, maybe your on to the mystery. Seems that it really is hard to differentiate who is really real anymore in these parts.

Welcome to Redland, Miss.

Through the teachings of my family members, i have learned that the reflection  of love's appearance, comes through different projection lenses, as we can surmise from the theory of the "Myth of the Given."  It is also filtered again in our own self lenses.

What color are you looking for? is seeking it chasing it away? Does it serve to know that Romance abounds, and take away the concept of time? That i am in a romance tomorrow, means that i am in a romance today?... i just have not observed it completely yet?  For me, these are considerations.

 

When we have done the self introspection and lanced the shadows and determined what is inside them, do we have a more panoramic view of romance, and second person Love, in general? I think so.

When i consider my daughter's emotional toolbag, (and mine also) i consider that she may not have inflated all of the blow up dolls that represent the full spectrum of typical gestalts.  Her tool box may still need to add the one of romantic love, or one of "walking in another's shoes" and also learn how to use it.

It helps when others can help point out our shadows in loving and careful ways.

Like any building, perhaps romantic relationship starts in foundation, and with allof the materials that will hold it together.

For my daughter, i suppose as she grows older and has the same questions, we will talk about emotional connectedness to the Kosmos, all the way down in scale to the ameoba, stopping for much pointed discussion on the human being.

cheers to You. and Love.

Wizard Stalker...

Wizard Stalker

The voice of the wizened stalker has been summoned:

 admitting to desire and seeking

scrawl on a wall,

 the busy work of her sisters,

shut down in that dungeon for dusty years.


in imaginations'  colorful workshop

'twas a matchbox

was that a flint left by yourself?

or were it of my own bringing,

forgotten to my mind?


For either I am at the station of Thanks,

to myself for the opening my eyes,

and to thou for throwing the bleach.


Like explaining the Kosmos,
'
tis a task for fools,
 
greater sense to  thank and honor

the experiences of life

and Gods'  selves

for sticking 'round,

like a swarthy Cape Horner,

stout in the heart an soul

able to make the long haul.


I've seen to reclaim the gems,

and  release the prisoners om' mind.

the search complete, and the treasure found

on the map, it bears the X, and the Oh.

Townhall meeting

Meeting of the mind

Voices chattering, noises of chairs being moved, doors opening and closing, bags being put down on tables, a slight scent of disuse in the dusty meeting hall, a sense of busyness.

In the far back of the room is an old man, sleeping, and snoring in a chair, bliss-full. no one pays any attention to him. He seems to have a third eye, as one might see him in certain angles of illumination

Finally someone comes to the podium.

He taps the mic, the predictable feedback screeches forth momentarily, then quiets.

"Okay, people, lets come to order, please, come to order, take your seats, please."   "Please... Please... Okay, come to order.... Thank you"

more chair noise, the voices begin to quiet.

"Come to order. Thank you."

pause.

"Thank you all for coming tonight. I know you are all busy, so lets begin and we can get out in a reasonable hour.

"Okay then. So we are here tonight to give voice to those of you who seem to be having trouble with the program. Hopefully, we can hear from all of you, especially those who are usually reluctant to speak up. Let me clear: your voice is as important to the smooth operation of the ship as any. maybe more so, since you quiet ones never say anything till its time to sound an alarm. no offense intended."

"Let me introduce myself, No I am not Mr. Big, Mr. Big will speak a little later, I hope. I am Mr. Strong, I am the guy who called the meeting, in coordination with Mr. Big. and I am an organizer in this fine community. Wroelcome."

Mr. Strong looks over the attendees

"I know a lot of you, some i have not seen before."

"Let me begin by saying that it is indeed unusual to get all of you out together, young and old, fit and well, challenged in areas, shall we say."

"Lets see if we can make some sense out of what it is all of us want to acomplish. The way to do that is to let each have a turn at the mic, say your name and what you do. then state what you desire.Okay? "

Murmurs of affirmatives and nods

Lately, things have gotten a little odd again in this place, our smoothing over from a couple of yerars ago, that bandaid, seems to have begun to fray a bit. lets see if we can get a deeper handle on the collective mission going on in here.

Sort of decide what our problem is, then,

Then we need to come up with a plan."

"So there'll be  two phases of the meeting. we will go as far as we can and then take a break for refreshments, hopefully having wrapped up the statement/ introduction phase by then.. Every one okay with that?"

"Okay then. lets start here in the front row, then we will take the back row, and work like that ending in the middle. don't worry, I'll keep us on track. okay, you there, oh, hey, can Mrs. Wright, darling, will you be our secratary? Thanks dear."

"Hi. My name is X.press. I am the voice of expression. I desire to be free to express what arises and is relevant for both the local mission and the broader mission. I want what I say to be heard, and considerd. i work hard at putting the words together so they make sense, and put them in a way that is easy to read and interesting. I want to work for you. Thank you."

"Okay, next. Thank you X."

"Krea Tifity, here, through the darkened night, small glimmers begin to glow beyond the awarness which is ca lled the horizon. and so here we are. and we have an amazing job ahead of us, lets make it as colorful as can be. I am here to make the work of it a blast. I like to be fed, however. any chefs in the crowd? Just kidding, I am a wiz in the kitchen also. call me anytime, any one. I mean it..."

*Krea Tifity does a little bow, and spins away in a dance like dismount. *

"Okay, you there, you look like you have something to say."

"Oh, yes, I am Ance Innapance. I am so glad to be up here and getting this done... You know, I can't sit still. I have the drive that needs things done yesterday, and I hate waiting! I wake up and am active fairly early in the day, but I get tired easily, and i go to sleep very soon after, I wear myself out. I can be woke up if the red button is pushed. I can be useful sometimes, so don't hesitate to call on me when you need me. I know, I am often a nuciance, but, my friend has been helping me relax and let go more and more. I am related to the founding father, Wild Willy."

"who is your friend? Thanks."

"I'll let her introduce herself if she cares to when she comes up. Good night."

*She makes for the door*

"Hey, Ance, don't go anywhere, we need you in the second half..."

"Oh, ohhh. Okay."

She goes back to the chair to fidgit. then asks Mrs. Wright if she can help.

"Moving along. You, please, come up to the mic."

"I am Intherr Spexun,"

pause 

"I contemplate what comes across the monitors. I bring it into the process and we, me and my sister O.B. Jatifity, chew on it a while and try and make reccomendations, which you will find in our recomendations, file, which I might add, seems to be overflowing."

*raises eyebrows at the crowd.

"Mr. Spection, thank you, I am sure we will be looking into that file that your mentioned later. I'll make a point of getting it at the break.

Now, lets give the folks in the furthest row back a chance. I know some of you are extremely influntial in this community, yet don't like to be recognized. Sorry about the loss of anonimity, we need to know what talents we have in the group, and who is in need of redirection for the greater good."

"We will continue on the far right, my left, closest to the door and work the other way. Please, mame, yes, you in the black hat. please come up and speak to us."

She looked small sitting, but upon standing, with her wide brimmed hat,she rose up as a tower, slender and lithe. she was quite tall and elegant.

She moved slowly and quietly, her legs barely seeimg to move, almost gliding. her shadow was a lumineascent shade of deep darkviolet, and matched her eyes. she stood at the podium, and rather theatrically, removed her hat, and long flowing hair fell from under her hat, which she shook out rather delibrately in seduction.

She looked at the group, and after a long moment where it seemed she looked at everyone individually, all at once, she spoke.

"I am Scha Dow." I hide from you things that you no longer wish to own. as you can see, I am holding manythings inside of my cloak, *she opens a long flowing rope* which you canniot see, or do not wish to see. each of you have a bit of somthing in here, and I hold them in my darkness for you until such time as you would like to reown them. My pockets are infintly deep and wide. And with all of this luggage, I am still beautiful, as you can see, as a resident of this town.

I belive that I may help the mission by being recognized and exercised regularly with a trainer."

"Thank you.

There is a stillness in the room, as if everyone was hypnotized. Then suddenly, at once, each person snapped back to movemet as if a spell had been broken. Strong is shaking his head.

"Next, there, please. lets move on. thank you"

"My name is B.Dee Phitnus she said quietly. I am to make the organism fit and as healthy as it can be. I am also to make it look good. both of my jobs have rewarding outcomes. she was bent over, her posture lacking, and her clothes fit too tight."

From the audience: "SLACKER!" "you don't do shit!" from some unknown voice. disruption emerging...

"Is this true? You've been clocking in and not doing the job, pretending that you have?"

hangs head in shame.

"I dont want you to feel bad about it, just tell me the truth....we are all her for the same reason..."

"Yes, its true. I am not doing my job to well... It's just that I don't get the time on the stage 'cause Creativity and that Blackguard over there keep hogging the time, and then the end of the day rolls around, and the one who says she is in physical pain takes my time, and I get shoved to the next day and it begins again. Why does every one want to work in the morning?"

"Okay, I am going to make a executive decision: Right now, stop what you are doing, all of you, put on your music and lets get physical. This is a priorty, like stopping up the dyke. lets begin and give this woman what we wil all beneift from, go on now, put down your books, yes, you out there looking in, you also..."

"This will be a long night, but we can't have a mission if the ship is falling apart....

now, one, two, three...."

after the routine: "There don't we feel better?"

Nods of affirmation from the group....

Very well. I don't want to become sidetracked, but we must establish a priority for things, and if a fire is recognized, time is of the essense. do we all agree?

A hand went up in the audience. "excuse me."

"yes, go ahead."

A small thin, rather weak young woman rose from her seat. Dressed in a thin shift kind of a dress, white with faded yellow flowers. she had short brown very straight thin hair. "My name is Clara Sea. and I hate to be a tattle tale, i even hate using that word, but since we are laying it all on the table tonight, I would like to point out that madame Secratary Mrs. Wright has been negelcting her duties as fuel logger, and spending her time writing to that guy she is having an affair with!"

"UAH!" from of course, Mrs. Wright. and others.

Mr. Wright, in the seats, remained silent.

Mr. Strong closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath.

"Is this true, madam secretary? about the failure to log the fuel, i am not concerned about any other allegations... I am not at least...."

"Yes. I have been neglectful in my bookkeeping. "

"Can you tell me how far you are behind? Well, in truth, i have not been doing any of it for many years, yet i did start again recently, and to date, I am only 2 days in arrears of the relevant period."

a collective sigh among the attendees.

"Well, that is all well and good, lats take another moment and get caught up so we can see where it is we stand, shall we?"

"and while we are at it, is the Photographer here? oh, yes, there you are. Have you been keeping the images of the ship current? what is it that we are dealing with here?"

"No"

"Okay, go out and get a couple of quick shots, then get back in here. we will press on in the meanwhile."

"I'm on it... I'll have them on the website today..."

"Good. okay thats another fire put out, lets hope we can catch them all before the ship falls out of the sky...." doing his best not to shake his head in emphasis"

"Is there anything else that seems to be pressing? anything that might be an emergency in the making? Come on now people, lets trap those errors. Anything?"

A large crack of thunder sounded.

"What was that?" Asked the fearful one in the side seats.

"Well now it seems the ship is running low on fuel. Some one get out there and get something in the tanks, you, care taker, go and do it, and lets be sure its the premium grade stuff, not that crap they've been pumping in for the last few months... the techs have been telling us the lines are getting to see some build up.

A ragged and humped over kind of man briskly limped out of the room.

It was clear he was suddenly concerned for his job and tried to suddenly perk to life.

"Yassa, yassa, what ever you need...yassa massa boss."

He runs out to the control center and operates the controls to the mechanical arm. it reached into a canister and placed a load of fuel into the receiving end of the ship. Momentarily, he caught a glimpse of the direction of the ships movement through the grimy viewing glasses.

Back in the meeting room, the photographer came back and reported that the photos of the vessel were available. they were not pretty, but indeed it was a very strong ship, and could be quickly brought back into tip top shape, in his opinion.

"Alrighty, lets not get ahead of ourselves, lets get the group fully involved, and we willl make assesments after we get this done. okay, who is next? Oh yes, over there..."

the voice of righteousness speaks up.

" Yes, I am Mr. Wright, and I would like to mention that my wife is not the only culprit of poor behavior in this group. There is another errant writer that everyone seems to be overlooking, and it is Mr. Stylus Crean Tifity. Mr. Tifity keeps plagarizing other people's work, and pretending that its allright for the ship to use as propaganda."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Okay, he's planning a drama using more clips from the old days... he saw your work up for a motivational speech, and this is what he came up with for her to use on you all..."

rolls the 48 hours clip....

"There's a new sheriff in town..." "and get it together people, so I don't have to call Eddie Murphy in here to play that role as bad cop again. You know ho w he likes to bust things up..."

Eddie Murphy jumps up... Hey, I'm in here too?

Eddie smiles at the group... (says something Eddie Murphy like... Merry christmas damn it...)

OR

the serious writer, wher eare you? what have you been up to? I am here. and here is what I have been doing...

flash to the scene of "Funny Farm" in hwich Chevy Chase is showing his wife his book... she complains about the flash forwards, and flash backs... even a flash sideways... burn it..."

oh, so we are back to taking other people's work again? you can't find something of your own to put down?

suddenly, out of his coat spill lots of little people... actually we are a team of sorts, every one seems to keep writing things but no one in here knows what to do withy all of this stuff. is there anyone her who can help?

Do I have any volunteers to help the guy in creative writing?

any one?

Madame secrataty, make a note to take out an advertisement for a copy editor.

yes sir.

okay, lets see, who is next?

getting to the second part

in which we explore who has been running the ship.

all righty, everybody, back? I apologize to thise of you who have gone unrecognized, at this point i realize that we might be here all night if we were to meet all of you, but we do need to get to the matter at hand. How many did cybil have? 15? well, no wonder this is overwhelming... we never took a census before. any way, moving right along, pretty good shape for the shape we are in.

i believe that we should hold something of an inquiry into the operating procedures and staffing. basically, who is doing what, see where our sucesses are and where we are failing the ship and each other.

so we will consider such concerns as plant and equipment, programming issues, both automatic and user operated, and operating abilities, and limitations, mission assignments and feasibility and possible mods that can be made for improved service to the community.

does anyone have anything else that should be reviewed?

"where is my Mommy?"

"oh, there you are, Ain, I thought I had lost you, here, I'll hold onto you forever."

well, glad we got that settled quickly."

I will ask the following people to come up to the table we have set up here and we'll get to work."

"fuel program manager, maintenance supervisor, programming engineer, and todays duty officer.

No one moved. No one spoke.

"Is this thing on..." tapping the mic

You all did hear me, yes.

"Yes, we heard"

"so we are missing some crew members, is it?"

"it would appear that way."

"does anyone know where these folks are?"

in the middle of the room, stood up a very large figure, with an incredible shadow, beyond that of the dark woman earlier, and from beneath her crawled out 4 fetus sized infants, whailing.

"perhaps they are here, she spoke in large voice, doing the carol maril hand sweep. the babies sat up and whailed all the more.

"Hello, madame, may I ask your name? and why these babies are so unhappy?"

"I am the limo driver, the one who oversees the obsessesion with the man who might be guru, might be lover, might be lover of her life, I am the voice of the hand that held her when no other would, when all of the officers of the ship jumped overboard in rough seas. I am the voice of distraction which let her find something else to focus on beyond her pain, I am the weaver of the fantasy which got her out of bed (dry dock) after her keel had been heli-arced. It is I who have been largely in charge of many of these operations, and even as we speak, I am currently writing a program which advances the drama of this mission, toward more ports of call, and colroful operational events."

"I see."

"and from what protocol have yo ubeen basing your operation?"

"from the programs that have been inplace since the second launch, the engravings upon the drives of 970-sts-A-med&Renf. (1970's states america, media and red influence)"

"oh. well, that may be part of the problem with what is going on now..."

"I took the helm when I discovered that during the high seas, there was no one driving. there was a huge electrical short, and I was able to determine its probable source, and make a quick repair. "

I am sure you did the best you could under the circumstnces. do you have a name?

" I do not know what I am called."

"Very well. would you mind coming up here, and give us a hand?"

she rose, and the babies came with her. (this chrachter will be difficult to talk to; she is immense, and overpowering of many of the others. she is not being deceptive, she simply doesnot know who she is.)

shadowy, but not luminous. she is more stark and pale. think morticia adams. perhaps even green.

Madame, may I call you Madame?

"certainly"

"what does the daily routine of the vessel look like?"

"there is the flow of it, which would describe."

okay, lets try this: what is it that you have her do from the moment the motors are turned on?"

"first we input some prist into the fuel tank, it gets the motion up to a high idle fairly rapidly so we can begin the mission with clearer radar sweep."

"Prist."

"does anyone have an opinion about the use of prist?"

"It's been know to create some problems with the feedback systems, and the fuel pumps overreving. Hi, my name is No Tall. I store information in the hard files."

"Madame secratary, lets make a list of current operating procedures that Madame has been employing, and make a note as to our findings on the effectivenss of it. Thank you."

"yes, I can do that."

then what happens after the engines are reved?

"most days, there are the small rafts that must be put to sea, so efforts are made to get them battened, hatched, and launched. then we usually move into a certain kind of building upon the shores of possibilitiy."

"building? what are you intending to build?"

"safer and deeper harbors, in calm warm seas. we plant palm trees, dig the sea bottom, "

"and how long have you been at this task?"

"long on 5 years."

"how goes the project?"

"quite well, we have safe harbor for thousands of ships, fathoms deep. we erected a huge sea wall, we call it the wall of now and it hold space for the days of thunder. there is also a new light, brighter and clearer. we polished out the old tints. "

"would you say that there is safe harbor now?"

"indeed."

do you feel comfortable letting go the reigns of the command to another?"

"to whom?"

"well, we will see."

I am sure we just want to be sure that your work is indeed complete."

"I beleive it is"

Grand!"

"what went on the rest of the day?"

"well, there ws pretty much the concept of furthering the harbor, and looking at charts that one of the designers had left aboard recently."

"were the charts accurate?"

"indeed. we idled in the harbor most of the day looking them over."

"I see."

"what was donr before the desinger had dripped off the charts?"

"we would idle around in circles chasing images of birds that we drew."

"indeed. What was the reason for this circling?"

"these were the days when we found that there was, in the seas beyond the harbour, a commander that was indeed birdlike. We coveted his capabilites and voyages, and were seeking to atrract him into our harbour, to begin a new kind of fleet, or even just a small line of 2 vessels which supported each other and went to sea together."

Pasue

"in fact, we still have that procedure in our ops specs. we ahve been making differnt circles, however."

"You know, that vessel is berthed just over there, don't you."

"Yes, we have seen that it is in our midst, and that has been helpful. It was of service when we had our deck fire, although his ramming us was quite a surprise."

"of course. Now, my question to you is this: does this plan of joining in anyway create a secure situation on these decks? I would like to understand the value of joining with another ship."

"well. it is a well maintained ship and has many great ports of call."

"that doesn't answer my question at all. is this effort imporving things on this ship?"

silencwe

quietly. "no."

Very well.

I ask Madame secratery to put in the notes my reccomendation to remove that course of action from the ops specs. I suppose it will have to be put to Mr. Big for full implementation."

"Is mr. big here? has anyone seen mr. big?

murmuring and shuffing as each moves around looking.

"he's back here on the last bench. seems he's snoring." spoke Handy Dandy, he was a fleshy kind of guy, always helpful.

"alright, we'll let him sleep some more, maybe wake him up later when we decide somethibg...

"Where were we?"

"we were trying to figure out what the 5 year project has been." Dandy again.

"Okay. thanks hans. well, can we maybe do something new here, something that might benefit the ship? maybe clean her up, grind down her rust, put a fresh coat of paint on her? maybe do some engine work and improve the fueling situation?"

"anyone?"

Okay, it all to much for each of you on your own. tell me, who is purchasing the fuel? is it the same person putting the fuel in the tanks?"

Hi, I am Shug Abbot. I been doing the fuelin. whats the problem with the fuelin.?

"Well, it seems you have been doing a hasty job of it, leaving a terrible mess in the bilges, and the fuel seems to be creating very bad operating performance."

"well, I'm in a hurry you know, i have all of the rafts to fill, and one would never know them to be rafts based on the fuel they consume. Theys always beeping theys near empty."

"well, make this ship a priority, or you may have to get a new job in demolitions, those rafts will be just fine with a tad less fuelin."

"now maintenance, we have no records when the last over haul on the moters was, when the keel was last scraped, what else?... how about ballast control? any one doing any adjusting for load? we seem to be sittin a might low in the water."

whose running this tank? walks up to the "lookoutglasses" and observes that there is a Donald Duck character singin away and driving willy nilly. impact is iminent. "well, that explains quite a bit."

some one go wake up the old man.

seems he's something of a narcoleptic.

"well, while he is lucid, I am going to suggest he make some personnel changes. some of you may be going down in the hold with Eddie and Jerry. Bear in mind, there may be other jobs for you, but you have had your chance, now its time for a change, before we all end up on the rocks."

Hey, I don't know how to do anything else!

well, you really don't have to do anything. Just let someone else do the job you were supposedly doing... essentially get out of the way, alright?

I did the best I could!

I know, we know, but we need to get this ship in order!

Hey you! no more pristine for startters today! there will be an maintenance inspection in 2 days, you know! In fact, give me that can, we begin now.

alright, but I need to go down and get the newer additive you asked for...

No, I'll send another person. Will Clear, you please go and see to the new fueling protocols, please?

absolutely. I am a little tired of being shut up down here.

alrighty: is is said that we are our habits... so who are we? lets list the days activities:

log entries

idle chit chat

excessive fueling

deck swabbing

raft maintenance

ship maintenance

crew pt

reprogramming

commerce

R & R

how much idling are we doing?

murmurs.

no one can tell me?

silence.

okay, each day for a week we will have new personelle in assigned duties.

This morning, Maxine will run the morning show.

and for those of you who want to editorialize what went on over on the Good Ship Lollypop, here is this crews opinion: the trial should be in the media: let those pundits apply the waterboarding technique

http://thinkprogress.org/2009/04/27/hannity-voluntary-waterboarding/

yet, they probably wont. Having come close to drowning in my life several times, remebering the panic...

go, go , GO!

she's been repressed, my friend. we thew her out with the bathwater.

why?

well, she was an alcoholic.

I see.

and when she wasn't busy being an alcoholic, you judgemental people, what was she?

a hard working mom who was doing the best she could.

anyone able to take her place?

well, i might try.

okay. put this on. Throws Kelly one of the shirts that Maxine left behind. it is blue ta the waist to the chest, pink stripe, then white to the shoulders. pink short sleeves, like a tricot fabric.

alright, go see how it goes for a while running things up there.

Maxine was prone to depression, you know. so is she.

yes, and as I understand willpower, it only has a short daily life.

who will take the next shift?

is there anyone here who cares enough about our own skin to pull an oar? or are we still looking over at the sister ship, coveting what they have and unable to work for it? Do you think she got so tip top by behaving as we do in this crew? OH! WILL YOU JUST LOOK AT what Miss Loveless id over doing? she is looking into the portholes! I'll bet she can't even see in there! someone go and get her back.

I think the trouble with all of us is that we have to much thinking going on.

Okay here is todays duty roster:

L: has the Laundry

M. has the Bilge

N has the berths

O on KP

when these are done, report back in for further. and by the way, music is allowed.

Now while those ones are carrying on, I would like to know about this project which seems to be taking some focus off the mission. Can anyone tell me about cookbooks?

there was an idea that was hatched a few years ago to bring the cooks recipes into a book with Art Baker's painting, and then the idea to make it international was also thrown in. BH Gogh brought it to some people who were oggling. They had an multi-cultural composition. we were well into the oogle program ourselves, to be sure. there was such an attractive candy store in the midst of it, we see, of course that we had a tremendous sweet tooth that was growing. By the time it was over, the making of the book, our sweet tooth was making us quite ill.

Yes, but we learned so much about sailing the seas, don't you agree?

Indeed...

By the way a package has been sitting on the deck.... I opened it, it was there for a while. it was labled work for the book. I think its some more art work...!

GREAT! lets have a look....

pulls out a rube goldberg monstrosity.

some: Oooo.

others curious, and looking at it from all angles.

others: silent and eyes raised.

one: look it has a face.

oh, and it has portraits.

and they are arranged like the concentric universe, and its a loaf of bread!

Mr. Strong: does anyone see this as a joke? does anyone see that the Gods are mocking you in your persistance? I do. people. lets get into new work. let the Gods go off to sea on their own mission. we need to grow our own God in our midst!

Lets live our truth, our reality. put those blinders to those things outside of the here and now on!

and for several hours, the ship ran like a well oiled machine.

the scribe got restless.

and in the news today....

Dark star had a big time out after Jeff died. so much time was she out that when my mother died, there was no mourning left. now she seems to be here all the time, making me feel like i have an emptyness that is endless,

dark star, you call yourself, i see you know. come down from you perch and speak.

i have a song i would like to sing,

of pain of love gone wrong,

of the endless toil of life,

and the comfort of going blank

i sing the song of distraction

finding false joy in children's candy

of ever longing for what i don't see at first look,

even though in the truest sense, it abounds aplenty.

sing with me, friends

sing my song.

and the people began to sing, all voices started out clear,

but as they went on, the shadow lifted,

and a spell was broken.

it was brighter, and then the ship began to move, harmoniusly.

"hey what happened to supporting your commander?

"we are supporting our commander, except our commander has been asleep, and now we are waking him up."

ptripe,

"Gollllyyy." (No?)

"mchales navy plug?"

***********************************************************************

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what does Zeus do when he wants to silence some of his sub personalities? My dream showed me he cements their mouths closed.

********************************************************************************

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who has been in charge here and why did you, the one who should be in charge, let him run like a madman?

who decided that the voice of haste would hold more sway than the voice of completeness? or of quality and authenticity?

stuff eddie and jerry down in the basement again... don't let those fuckers out!

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

some days the rafts do not go to sea, and as they have no real crew to speak of, just a couple of rabbits and monkeys tending the lines, we have to send crew out to tender their lines properly, to swab their decks, or they sink... our lost crew members seem to be a real hardship on these decks.

when we try and pull them back aboard, the rafts begin to create all kinds of disturbances that take the focus off the primary mission of "this boat."

"well, what is the primary mission? Is it to tend rafts? or keep this vessel in tip top shape?"

"It would seem keeping this ship tip top."

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what becomes problematic for the daily operation?

there are times when the programming seems to have a catch in it which causes the systems to slow and odd sense of darkness settles in on the ship and crew. Its rather odd, like an internal weather maker, which brings cloudy foggy days. upon these encounters, it seems that the crew flee the wheel house, and n one is driving. next thing we know, we are circling again.

we have a crew who needs to grow up and take responsibility, it would seem.

at some point, the backdrop become more apparent that there are eyes like port holes, lenses, in variable colors. over time, the room will evolve into an interior of a head, riding around on her, wish some visuals that come out of the eyes like the dog/nose chasing "beggin strips"

* opposite day! turning our words around....

* flying off other's wings.

*Seinfeld on reservations... we have to more than take the reservation, we have to "hold the reservation, we have to do more than bring in the data, (as the vessel is reading a book on dieting and eating a crusty creme)

*again with the plagarism... okay, your fired. I want a new guy in here to write copy for this persons mantras.

*intro big mind Looming...does big mind ever speak?

* the never ending weekly work of getting to know all of the gestalts. and the ensuing dramas that threten to sink the ship...

*knocks from the floor, repressed voices asking to be let out... "hey, I'm here also, Jerry again, Can I come out?" who else is in there? I dont know, but there are a lot, I even saw sharon stapne down there! I didn't really want to leave...!"

* the secratary trying to hop a look into the oter ships port holes... big heels... looks foolish

on the wrong ship... (where is Madame secratry? missing her desk again....

she in love with the actor... the judger tells her she is on the wrong ship, her job is here.... Looks

bad..."YOU CANNOT SHARE INTERIORS"

come before us has been a complaint from mr. A. he goes by autonomy. he says he has been stuffed in a dark room and fed mushrooms for a very long time. Is this a valid complaint?

the vessels outide mission... going to school for the conference:

"your daughter has a great creative streak, but she is hard pressed to the challenge of structure in her work, if it is a creative process, she ecxells, but ask her to stay organized with the other parts of it, and well, she misses the point." Hmm, sound like me. raises eye brows. runs in the family.

The comedy:

the mission of the exterior, as described in the previous work, ie.. the going to work as a pilot, , as a real job, but wants to trade it all for a job writing for some actor who has a publishing house. the dramatics that go on in the interior of her i quadrant, when viewed from inside, and the exterior when viewed collectively from the inside.

* could it be a few weeks before all of the charachters are intoduced as all of the drama unfolds in the midst of it. Like a saturday night live skit inside my head. the adventure toward better health, and her seeking is funny...

* the seeking mind being berated by the voice of transformation: "Look, you can't have him if you think you have to go looking for him!" "you keep violating the law of attraction, and what example does that set for the others? They can't stand you always looking around for him, wanting a better body, wanting the answers cause you keep thwarting all of thier hard work... I am telling Biggie that your out of orderagain... No I won't embarce you... "

* One of Roberts rules of order, you have to embrace each member of the assembely."

* the check ride and the south haven whopper... "no dont eat the whopper, not the whopper... " a jerry seinfeld guy in her head for that. he is too small to stand up to the self who wants to bury her stress. Burry S. Tressinnaciao

Energetics of Dis-ease

He knew exactly what he was doing most of the time. He poured himself a cup of tea, his silk robe sweetly rubbing against his morning erection.

It was an interesting thing for him, becauuse he understood that most of the people who worked with ministries and those who came to a minister for guidance, simply didn't want to make theconnection, to accept that we all are human, and that the body was not an object to be seen as a sin. The only sin in anything was over indulgence to the point of injury of some type.

No, Pastor Charles had no problem with sexuality. He was grateful for the experiences itoffered in conscious participation. He was also careful with the wider worlds repressions regarding sex and even the body, understanding full well they were notto be blamed for what the institutions so insidiously handed down as meritous truths. The lambs, the sheep, the followers who did no thinking for themselves, they drank the coolaid again and again, and allowed the guilt to be served up like so much sunday pie, while repressing the natural tendencies of human intercourse with disasterous fallout.

Charles enjoyed this robe, the swaying of the fabric so sensuous on the tip of his penis. He brought his tea into his bedroom, setitdown on the nighttable, and sat on his bed allowing the robe to open.

He took his penis in his hand and began stroking it, paying close attention to the sensitive head, thumbing it sweeetly. Many long minutes of pleasure went on as the steam rose out of his tea cup, and in final action, happily ejaculated into a handy towel.

He sat for some moments and let the orgasm finish. It was dleightful.

And, having done with that matter, moved with a clear mind into the shower, the needs of his small congregation on his mind.

She was over the top for him. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but she instinctually knew that her love for him was getting tangeled up in a dangerous way with her spiruality.

She was subscribing to him the awakenings she was having, he knew that, it was logical, but the thing was, it was her experience with God that she was mistaking as experinces with him. The trouble was, he didn't want her to lose sight of the importance of the experinces, but need for her to see that it was not really he, but God who shone that image of him through her window.

The tidings of great joy

for all mankind to hear,
but would they listen
even if trumpeted on high,
the ipoded earbuds denying the words,
"we can communicate with the rest of the world!"

Archetypal understanding of ourselves shed such great light on our psyches.

I think that there is a furthering of that kind of symbolic language, and it is in the imagery of our desires.

In studying the "Dog Whisperer" on the Nat Geo TV channel, and remembering what I have learned from Dr. Temple Grandin, author of "Thinking in Pictures",  and in understanding our energy,
it seems there is the language of the ether, and animals are sensitive to it.

our primal brains used to speak in that way,
Then we evolved and forgot,
developing our minds further,
using spoken language alone.
Perhaps forgetting it was a good thing,
until our morals, and our new ability to set aside our egos,
caught up with what the 2 parts of the brain might be able to create.