Just waking up and emerging out of the subconscious,
the unconscious, the primordial consciousness –
home of the primal scream…(in fact I think I hear
screams) out of the the collective unconscious,
whatever you like to call it.
The phrase I like:
TIME WAS ALL AT ONCE AND FOREVER
In the dream time that has no time.
It seems to me I really did hear
screams in the night. This usually means
just one thing… Matilda is whipping the preacher
again. And boy does he need it!
He needs a cleansing from the
bottom of his heels to the top of his head.
It’a good to scream and howl a bit before
confession. And just like in church,
the preacher confesses on his knees…
with Matilda standing above him, wearing black leather
and boots, and carrying a whip. This gives
the preacher a sense of direction.
Whoops!
Ah well, this stuff isn’t going into
the newspaper… I hope.
Hank has adjusted quite well
to ‘WAIT-A-BIT!’; it’s not like
he had a choice.
He went through several breakdowns
that first winter. Now he helps edit
THE RAVEN SCREED, no, I mean
THE RAVIN’ TIMES. He even writes some of
the stories… and weird stuff it is, too!
Thank God he’s not normal. He’s
not even nearly normal. Of course,
nobody comes from a normal family
and that’s a fact. Normal families do not
exist in Canadian society.What’s normal
for humanity is abnormality.
And that’s not a bad thing.
Abnormality means variety. And without
a wild stream of variety, the creating
universe would be dull. And the world
around us is anything but dull (life’s
rich pageant)…if you look closely,
that is.
THE CLOSER YOU LOOK, THE STRANGER
IT GETS!
This should be a law of Quantum Physics,
except:
THERE ARE NO LAWS OF QUANTUM PHYSICS!
Not that any man can write.
It’s 5:52 A.M. in Brussels. That’s the only
part of my watch I can make out in the dark.
God only knows what time it is here. Not that
it matters. Time has only a fluid, tenuous
grasp on reality up here in these parts.
Reality is something else again,
and it appears to be timeless.
Yeh, what I was trying to say is
that the screams have died down
considerably. The preacher will feel far
better in the morning.
Matilda interprets the duties
of a mayor far differently than I did.
But everybody’s agreeable and Matilda’s
getting rich. She has a unique way
of collecting taxes.
Also, she’s one of the major contributors
to the Town Annual Liquor Fund – – the TALF –
which is very generous of her. In the middle
of nowhere… where else is she going to
spend her money?
We have a system that works! Others
might think it’s immoral, disgusting or
deranged.
But others don’t have a vote up
here. We have nineteen registered
voters. And maybe another ten folks
that don’t vote, because they’re hiding.
They built a dandy bomb shelter
and they’re not coming out…
Until it’s safe to do so.
I wonder what the Mad Poet of Rat
River does when he visits, and Matilda
is performing her duties as mayor.
[…] Source: THE MAD POET OF RAT RIVER AND MATILDA […]