envy of a ghost

 Would the soul cry out if it were being hurt, or would it take its licks salty dead silent? I don’t know but the operation went smooth (they say) and they removed the organ intact and placed it in the care of a preservation society. I don’t feel any different, except that I have no soul. I have found myself out politicking and bloodsucking, which were never part of my M.O. in the past, but seem to fit my personality so perfectly now. I think I may write myself in for president next Tuesday. Such are the ways of a woman – sans soul.  Trying to compensate for the loss, I mean, though again I say I never felt better in my life, and shook hands with several doctors and a nurse. They even allowed me to put my palms up against the glass and peer in upon the many incubating souls in one dedicated room leased out by the chairman of some board, and I tried to locate mine and yes, I believe I found it! calling for me from one far sanitary corner. My breath steamed the glass and condensed. I stiffened up to suddenly realize a part of me was gone, and no small part indeed. But I comfort myself with my hand in my pocket wrapped around the thick fold of bills. I can properly say farewell and shout through the long empty echo chambers of my heart: “IT WAS WORTH IT!” Today I shall go and have myself fitted by my personal shopper, with all the fineries of a twenty-first century lady. By noon I can see myself peering into the floor to ceiling mirror, in the deep fault of re-cognition. An extravagant and spacious feeling, I am sure! But an envy of a ghost.

storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 10

Part 1

In the last episode 2:9:5 the young Kell has a showdown with her uncles in the woods and speaks to the atrocities she has seen. The hardest most disturbing part is coming to grips with her own identity.

storytelling

Maze 2:6:3 — storytelling

Book Two

Chapter 6

Part 3

— — AUDIO NARRATION — —

In the last episode 2:6:2 Ame is talking about her friendship with Bless and Freddy, and the time Freddy helped her get gum out of her hair. Then he took her on his Harley to Berkeley to a salon where she has a dreamy moment in soap suds.

excavating manhattan

excavating manhattan in the year 2030

All the civilizations and past lives are buried beneath us because they did not hire enough people to keep sweeping. Had they hired enough sweepers, we would have all the treasures of the past among us. We have the street sweepers now, machines, but they go about sweeping the roads which have paved over the past. Shouldn’t we all be digging down into our gardens, down into the deep to unearth all the treasures? We all know how. One of the first things they gave us was a bucket and a shovel and a sandbox and naturally we began digging. In two hundred years all our treasures will be buried with us, and the future will be walking on our graves! Sure, some of the treasures will be exhumed and put on display. But what about your heirlooms? What about your creations? Like rings of a tree, the superficial layers of the earth if taken out by cross-section will tell of our lives and our tragedies. In New York City, in the year 2310, someone will excavate Manhattan and find that one thin ring of chalkdust from nine eleven and put the pieces together again so nothing will be lost on the timeline. On either side of that ring will be the slick almost watery syrup of the life and times of the most powerful nation on earth. I’m sure my grandmother’s ballet slippers will be in there. And not far from that, ashes from my grandfather’s cuban cigar. There will be reams of paper mulch on one side, and the other will be tested for trace amounts of silicon and plastic. The movement from the daily morning predawn paper delivery boy to the bloggers and vloggers logging onto their apples. The countryside will have imperceptible layers of poisons in the corn, and fluoride and pharmaceuticals will test positive all over the cities for sure. They will have to really work to determine why we brushed our teeth so rigorously back then. I mean now.

technosavvv. 15

let’s interact with cell phones in a way of acting like humans are less useful

Excerpt

From Daughter of Darkness, Book #2 ….  “I wandered the streets always wondering how I got here, wondering how I got here, always wondering how I got here. The buildings were perspiring, I saw their vulnerabilities by the windows, I could see the sweat beading off the leaded windows. The sky was aloof and did not care at all. There were eyes behind the windows, there were eyes behind the clouds. They watched me. Someone was up to no good. And it was me.”

03.11

sometimes you can catch rainwater in your
mouth and drink it.

sometimes

cybersentients

In a cybersentient world
eternal beings race
to find a way back
to human
form

eyelashes

one day
when words
are no longer in fashion
i will reach out
to you
in an illicit crossing
of eyelashes

Oddity #7

An eighth day was added to the week and Gregorian calendar, without approval of the Church. This allowed the populace a seventy-two hour yawn, aka ‘seventh day stretch’, before returning to the essential five day work week. And archived the general american angst.

The State Department Store sold the new issue calendar copy out of refurbished former Sears franchises, which offered ample square footage for safe houses and the novel Homeland Security and Exchange Commission.

The HSEC was setup as a critical watchdog to oversee and protect American interest overseas, now that shares of the United States, Incorporated, sold at a slight premium to its initial public offering on the New York Stock Exchange.

The trillion plus dollars raised in this remarkable, unprecedented, scandalous public offering, spearheaded by the now defunct President Trump, Donald

(whose final veto of the critical congressional legislation set to block his party’s ‘Incorporation of the States’ initiative preceded his impeachment)

was now being issued toward the most unfortunate application of architectural mindtrust ever known to man, aka the blueprinting of a male counterpart to miss america herself, the Statue of Liberty.

The giant slab of poured concrete was already spiraling up out of the waters like a Dairy Queen soft ice cream cone, to house the new symbol of grand patriarchy ever alive and well.

Apollo, of course, was the model.
The Trump Tower affiliate, of course, had been jettisoned.

But plans to use the hollow carbon fiber globe situated firmly within Apollo’s head of reinforced steel, for home offices for the New Chairman of the Board and CEO of the United States, Inc.

(and not necessarily the President)

were subpoenaed by the Justice Department, and were now being relentlessly scrutinized by the tired eyes of the Attorney General, with the Supreme Court perched precariously over his shoulder, overlooking the whole sordid affair.

Meanwhile, an Pan-Euro-Middle-Asian Investment Cabinet of whose who, had been vetted atop the tallest edifice in Dubai, and was now casting its first votes under a mirrored ceiling, over pi

nk champagne on ice,  to determine what  would  really happen across the Atlantic.

Sitting at the head of this VIP table of leaded glass with platinum trim of inlaid pearl, was none other than the greatest surprise of the evening, most touching to all… the prime beneficiary of all global casino holdings and friend to all four seasons, fair women and men.