is it really so late in the night? that the sheer brass of the thing should overtake it's gold? ...or is it all pyrite? no. no, no, no...
without too loose a mind to be seduced down lyrical trails, as if how a word sounded held more import than it's meaning, there is first the wordlessly real moment, the very moment before any words at all... ...before anything at all.
A tangled tale. We're looking at an autobiographical memoir and a coffee table art book. The art is awesome, the memoir is engaging.
The tale has to do with Malcolm McNeill's years-long attempts to complete a graphic novel with William Burroughs, a work to be called Ah Pook is Here. Ah Pook, by the way, is a Mayan god of death.
McNeill met Burroughs in London in 1970, when Burroughs was 56 and McNeill 23. They worked on a comic strip together, The Unspeakable Mr. Hart, which ran through four episodes in McNeill's underground newspaper, Cyclops. The paper folded, but Burroughs and McNeill stayed in touch, hoping to flesh out their comic and create a booklength graphic novel.
thanks for the prose.. here's the licker; do we really have time to read deep into this, with the end of the world just 8 days away.. ? and two asteroids missing the earth on 12:12:12? i am pretty sure that burroughs can save us, but truthfully time is running out and all the lemmings are running and the sheep are asleep so let's hear the words of hassan i sabbah the old man and the mountain;
don't let them see us, don't tell them what we are doing.. ; '
read deep, to the last word, the last link. what passes has a life of it's own -me, i figure honor it. it's all reading anyway, nothing is really originally written by our cogent consciousness alone, but what we read deep of in our inner chicken entrails and the i ching throw of the moment... what passes has a life of it's own.
recorded on media, bits or paper it doesn't matter, saved words are fragile, and having minimal effect on practical reality unlike even a simple butterfly flapping it's wings are disdained, vilified, suspected, spat upon. "you guys don't know how the world really works," they say. in movies, it's always the bad guys who say that. the obvious retort is more words. head to head. life is about making love. words pass it on. that they might live too. armed and blind. survival is a distraction to a greater survival beyond us. our mere physical survival alone is not enough. the agencies and agents of control circumscribe narrow herdchutes always, debilitating, disabling -lethal even -but never invalidating.
read deep. rub out the word forever. after the last word, all goes to isaswas; blank.