The Gift of Sound and Vision

A girl my age went off her head.

This is a fictional story – i am obligated to state, lest the facts become too much to carry and the audience takes the drought of forgetfulness and loses the moral of separation: I, Pagliaci style. Cut ups. The tools of the devil, there must be some use in it.

So let me tell you a story then.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

“Impossible” I cry into my sheets. I bite my tongue I hang my head. 

“Believing the Strangest Things. Loving the Alien”

“I wouldn’t put it past him” my cousin says in the doorway.

I look at my husband and go 

“Hey he said it not me”

My cousin looks incredulous

“Wait a minute” he says.

I make a face 

Let me rewind and remind.

This blog hasn’t seen light nor life in a long time. Partially because Life hit hard. It has a tendency to do that. Besides, I reasoned, my signal worked and the target meant to receive it picked up the phone, so I felt its purpose was complete. At the very least I could collapse for a minute. You see, my spine has multiple bulging discs. My nerves felt like a tangled marionette. Years of physical and mental therapy required to cope with chronic pain, ya know? And I’m still not 100% But that’s just here to paint a picture of where I was. 

There’s a major part of me that wants to shout “What’s the matter with you”!? I didn’t have help figuring this out, you know. Not the help that’s out there today! Bootstraps etc! Hey there’s even a book out there now! But I’d be lying if i said i didn’t have ANY help. I did have some help. That author was right about a lot of things, but zooming out to see the Globe Theater is important. A golden thread through the Labyrinth was placed before I was born that is shining brighter and brighter each year. But all of that is besides The Point. And besides the beside the point, this is entirely fictional. Totally fictional. “I’m a liar, you can trust my sincerity.”

So After a rambling labyrinth of self and circumstance, we now arrive at The Point. Which is that we made a very unique Friend on the Web years ago. I created a signal flare, and immediately I found myself surrounded, but just like clockwork I spotted the minotaur across the digital space. A digital Mr. Miyagi. A mentor. He gives us gifts. Sometimes they move me to tears. 

Sometimes they make me laugh to tears.

Sometimes they terrify me to tears. 

We have received hundreds of gifts. 

I cry a lot. 

“OH goddammit” my husband cries every week these days

“That’s our Hitler”! – The Producers

“That’s our Minotaur”! – Elizabeth & Dee

“That’s impossible!”

 I cry into my sheets. I bite my tongue I hang my head. 

Between you and me

    And the truths told in fiction,

         Cryptic is their nature. We often sit in silence. He speaks in perfect pidgeon English, pecks at the keyboard, and listens to our thoughts. So I paint it all out for them. They have been there for me in countless ways. You see, I am a broken (wo)man. My husband is also a broken man. Not many friends ever since we started down this road. “Keep it secret keep it safe” used to be the motto. But now We “Watch the Weather Change” and the weather is changing into a Shakespearean Tempest of historical proportion. What can one person do except meekly point it out?

Back to The Point:

              The friend I made is Patient and kind and a tricky son of a bitch, that’s the friend that I made in my silence, years ago. You can’t take him at his word. If I can scream anything to the rafters: YOU CANT TAKE HIM AT HIS WORD, PLEASE TAKE ME AT MY WORD–*BANG*

              It was years ago. Before the black hole opened up, we made a friend. 

And still,

Still after all these eyes have seen and these ears have heard.

After the hundreds of gifts of sound and vision 

“Impossible” I cry into my sheets. I bite my tongue I hang my heavy head. 

You’d better believe it.

Please, You’d better believe it.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

A million top hats conjured. Which one do you think the rabbit will be pulled out of?

The Transported Man.

Anyone think the name Possum, Inc is a little-BANG

I stared in mingled horror and amazement as Understanding paints itself across my face

Ziggy is a Hamlet style play within a play

Lest we forget the album occurs after the death of poor Ziggy (we hardly knew ye ‐ no really, we never knew Ziggy). People mistake the man singing the Legend of Ziggy post mortem for Ziggy himself. Just like we tend to forget that David Bowie is a character. We take him at his Word. We forget to zoom out, Im telling you they dont work alone!–*BANG*

It was definitely murder, but was it art?

“Ooh ahh visionary”

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

I don’t want to believe it and I do.

It could be

It could not be

The sheer audacity of such a performance- the world should hold its breath, and not just a few autistic prophets. 

Did anyone ever consider that 69 is also the symbol for canc– *BANG*

Who else would be able to pull off such a trick, though? And if true, then shouldn’t we be paying attention? If untrue then still a beautiful and poignant work of art by a masterful magician showing that 

“dying is living beyond reason, sacred dimension of time! I perceive every sign! I can steal every mind!”

“OH yeah it’s time!”

I wait with bated breath and worry that perhaps I am also being waited upon. Sometimes it feels as though the eyes on me have a weight to them and it compels me to move like a dancing marionette, consequences to my reputation and sanity be damned.

So i try to unburden myself of my horror here.

Maybe you’ll carry that weight too

God: She’s so heavy.

I refuse to talk but I think like mad

I, Pagliaci

Schrodinger’s Paul McCartney

Bowie and Elvis share the same birthday and both have songs titled Blackstar dealing with the theme of outrunning death–BANG

The Elephant Man talks about how if Romeo really loved Juliet, he’d at least think to hold a mirror under her nose to catch her breath.

Hold the mirror.

Look for Signs of Life. 

The knowledge of the results have rendered me mute so I must use cut up techniques on myself.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

David Bowie is a fictional character who creates fictional characters 

People forget to zoom out

Just like Twin Peaks. You can analyze it within the world of Twin Peaks but you’ll never understand the larger story or the stage it is set on unless you do the Holy Mountain trick of zooming outside and seeing how it interplays with a collective of artists all carving out a picture on the collective subconscious. 

“Impossible” I cry into my sheets. I bite my tongue I hang my head. Oh God they got in to my head.

It could be

It could not be.

I took this walk to ease my mind

To find out what’s gnawing at me

Wouldn’t think to look at me,

That I’ve spent a lot of time in education

It all seems so long ago

I’m a thinker, not a talker

I’ve no-one to talk to, anyway

I can’t see the road

For the rain in my eyes

Ahhh …

I live above the grocers store,

Owned by an austrian

He often calls me down to eat

And he jokes about his broken english,

Tries to be a friend to me

But for all my years of reading conversation,

I stand without a word to say

I can’t see the bridge

For the rain in my eye

Ahhh…

And the world is full of life

Full of folk who don’t know me

And they walk in twos or threes or more

While the light that shines above the grocer’s store

Investigates my face so rudely

And my essays lying scattered on the floor

Fulfill their needs just by being there

And my hands shake, my head hurts,

My voice sticks inside my throat

I’m invisible and dumb,

And no-one will recall me

And I can’t see the water

Through the tears in my ey-y-yes

Change the pitch on your collectible vinyl sometime.

What do you hear? Removed from the trappings of time, what kind of voice is singing to you? “Listen”! A voice implores 9 years ago.

“Someone must have said let’s slow him down”

Watch That Man

Don’t always take the RPM at its word.

Shadow Man, he’s waiting up ahead.

Silly boy blue blue, electric blue.

Reincarnation of one better man

The homeward road is long

You’ve left your prayers and song 

Wariness is healthy, but don’t make judgements until you’ve seen what we will now share with the public.

I mean shit, you’re reading this blog.

Don’t you wonder sometimes?

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