Several months ago, I finally got around to painting eyes on my van so that it could see where it is going. It is an old surplus vehicle from the university. I walked around that van parked in the surplus yard for a winter looking at it as the snow melted off. It used to belong to the geology department. One of their rigs dropped a drive line on me going 80 mph in the Columbia Basin while I was driving shuttle for a group of C.I.S. capitalists. I figured it would be safe to buy one since I had used up the hoodoo on this particular type of van. The eyes of Horus helped to take the university out of the thing.
This week I remembered why the Eye of Horus is important. I found the book that gave me that legend. I was moving my library to my new studio space. To tell you the truth, we all have a smattering of old Egypt in much of our myth structure. It gets muddied up. This book was called The Healing Hand: man and wound in the ancient world by Guido Majno; Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1975. It came across my desk when I was cataloging for libraries.
These 2 illustrations have stuck with me all these years.
I guess I have been looking for that missing 1/64th ever since.
Snowdrops have passed their desires,
crocus of purple feels no shame,
lilac bushes are beginning to leaf.
Winter wheat is spreading green,
over the muddy hills.
The muddy rut of a farm road leads,
into the dark piney.
Playing with old files
and laying down grid of new
on top of the past.
Larry, Moe, and Curly,
William Butler Yates,
Linda P. who could have taken
me for everything I was worth
in Jr. High. As a sideline, her name
was not Linda.
Tom T. Hall,
And then the belly of the State,
I do not know why
unless it has to do with
a ball turret gunner.
Some people like to say that Peter Seller’s last movie was “Being There”, it wasn’t. The “Fiendish Plot of Fu Manchu” was. It was realised in 1980; “Being There” was realeased in 1979. Those two films helped me stitch together that it isn’t the Yellow Peril of Sax Rohmer which is the problem. It is White Peril.
Are Trump branded properties in the Southern Hemisphere circling the drain in the opposite direction?
Lana Kane in the animated series Archer keeps yelling that sexual addiction isn’t a real thing. I think it is much like cancel culture, an advantageous sound bite to avoid the real issue.
Farimount Rd. runs out to the city cemetery. It also has the new building supply place. He had just been there for the first time to pick up a new toilet-seat and a couple of screen stoppers for the kitchen sinks. Turning onto Grand Ave., he stopped at a light behind a pickup truck with a lift-gate and a snack machine in the back. It was freshly filled with chips and candy in bags. On the glass front of the machine is a blue strip of masking tape reading “Memorial Hospital, fill ASAP.”
The vending machine turns right on Bishop Blvd. His brain is getting old, Larry St., Dean St., it could see the bigger picture. Dean and Linda, but the mind was forgetting how to breathe, Hall and Janet, or how to make the heart beat, State St.
I am moving to a new world where greed and excess has not had a chance to ruin it yet. Just as soon as I can manage it I am moving to that world. Unfortunately, I will probably still be carrying the disease of greed and excess with me.