The Humidity of Mortality on Pinball Planet

Visible Origami — July 30, 2014

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
I’ve just learned that on the day of my accident, one of the great men (Stephen Gaskin) of the last century passed away. Here was a true practitioner of Broad Daylight Awareness; a true teacher and living example for many other souls. He was humble, sharp and no nonsense. He might not have been everyone’s cup of tea but he meant a great deal to me and the hundreds of souls that lived around him and the thousands and thousands that came and went. I’ll not seek to provide a synopsis for Mr. Monday Night Class. You can read up on him. Like Terrance McKenna, Buckminster Fuller and a handful of others, he left this world a better place than he found it. It’s possible that his passing didn’t even make it into the Crass Media. He wasn’t one of theirs.
The other reader who saw the strange and silent black, bat-like creature glide across their sight-line, close in time to when it happened to me, also suffered a fall and got seriously banged up. That’s pretty strange.
Yesterday I was toodling around pretty good; went into town and also did some terrain training as well. I’m guessing there was about 10K accomplished yesterday. Today I found that they had cut back on my medication yet again. This happens every few days and so I was barely able to make it to breakfast and back. Dr. Napoleon (so called because of his obvious Napoleonic Complex) will be coming around any minute so I can let him hear about it. If they had doctors in The Stasi, he would have been the Chef Artz. Most everyone else around here has a good attitude and are willing and helpful across the board. However, it is one of those secret laws of existence that in any operation there has to be at least one major dick, so demonstrating for whatever the purpose of that would be.
I have zeroed in in a city not far from here where there are many rentals and surprisingly inexpensive as well. I’m planning on heading there next week, staying in a pension and not leaving before I find something. As per another law of nature, I walked into town yesterday with this fellow who looks like a gym rat but is a former (and possibly) future heroin user. He says he much prefers crystal meth. He admits that this is stupid so… I’m supposing he’s not entirely dim. He tells me that every 3rd person, in this city I am looking to live in the outskirts of, is a heroin addict. Someone close to me told me it is the happening zone of this country right now for young people, the arts and music (which are the same sort of) and I was planning on migrating there because there would be all kinds of clubs to play in, as well as get this language down by attending an immersion course (or two). “Rawhide!!!”
I am hoping (and have reason to believe) that certain comestibles are going to precipitate out of the ethers any day and I expect my mood to reflect that process, once said process reaches the manifestation end of it. Presently it’s somewhere in the middle two states of the creative and formative planes; most likely in the formative.
I heard an ominous statement by Putin yesterday. He was talking about the impact of sanctions and somehow the cost was around 20 billion (nothing to sneeze at) and he said something like, “None of this is important next to the reality that war is coming to Europe.” Do I really want to stay here? I keep juggling with the idea of just giving away my possessions and shipping what I can’t let go of to Hawaii and taking my chances. Somehow it feels like if I am in the jungle somewhere, it is going to take awhile for the global horse manure to make its way to me. I got a direct statement from the invisible that there were no plans in operation to destroy the islands. That still leaves the door open for all kinds of less than pleasant actions short of that, including haole shish kabob. The pretender in chief has connections to the islands. Damn… nothing is harder these days than weighing all the pros and cons of all the locations on this Pinball Planet. Sure… I’d love to go to the Maldives but I don’t have a suitcase full of cash. Indonesia has all kind of wonderful features with a big red flag that says ‘Fundie Muslim Alert’ on it. I’ve been around the globe in my head and landed nowhere. That means something, should you be bright enough to tumble to the implications. I’m not. It’s hard to focus on what requires a very narrow window of intensity to give up its secrets, when they are partying day and night at Dumb Ass Junction across the way. Even if that is actually thousands of miles… sound travels.
Living in The Age of Official Documents is a bit of a drag. You can’t go anywhere without conditions. You might could go to where you are a citizen, if it weren’t a police state. A part of me knows that I could go any number of places and just stay off the radar and remain indefinitely.
Next week, as I understand it, I get dropped off at the train station with my two bags that I can’t possibly juggle and work the crutches too. This will require some amount of the creative forward thinking strategy mind that I have a relationship with and… I do like puzzles. Of course… If Elvis actually makes it here, I should be more than capable of morphing into one of those four armed devas or deities and that’s the end of it.
I’m starting to understand some things about pain. I realize that, in many ways, I have been without the sort of pain that most people carry with them wherever they go. I cut most things loose a long time ago so they can’t sink their daggers into my heart, mind or ass like they do with most people. I’m not inflamed with desire for this or that worthless object or pursuit; pretty much if I have a small space to operate in and enough food to sustain me, I’m good to go and no complaints. When you find something you love doing… and I have several, you don’t have the time or energy (usually) for mind numbing and heart stopping dumb shit. You just want to do these things all the time. You wish there were more time to do more of them. And… should you have even a small measure of cosmic Love… what else of everything else matters a damn? Given that everything other than Love damns you anyway, at least to chasing the uncatchable tail (to catch the uncatchable taillllllll! cue The Impossible Dream), or worse, someone elses and you never saw the rental agreement prior too. More fool you.
And proving that I am no less a dumbass and projectionist than any other fool; the doctor just came by. He was smiling and in a good mood. I got on him about cutting the medication back. He didn’t say anything. He just keep radiating this ironical smile. Then he asks me where I am going. I tell him and he says, give the address to the nurse. I don’t see how that can mean anything else but that they have arranged a ride back for me and will not be dropping me at the train station. They did drive me down here and I did put in a certain amount of lobbying efforts prior too, as well as pleading diminished capacity and I don’t think they want me falling down in the train station, should I get in a Chaplinesque fugue state. He shook my hand several times. Maybe it’s all because it is our last official meeting.
If one is the sort that takes broad sketches as any kind of any evidence of something, it seems everything is working itself out in a timely manner and not in any sense beforehand. As most of you know, most of us have a good backhand but not much of a beforehand; just one of the realities of life, supposing life has any realities and is not just shapes in a perpetual mist of multi-colored fog.
I was playing the dead man’s game today and possibly I’ll get a pass on the sexism angle with this one. What it is is… when I look at everyone as one of the condemned. It’s only a matter of time. We’re all here for some reason, a reason never precisely established but surely for a reason, lest the whole thing be pointless and that’s possible too, if you’re one of those people that spent too much time reading contemporary western philosophers, or those pretending to be the same.
Why would Putin say that? Why would he say that war is coming to Europe? Are we/is he, talking about the whole of Europe or just those disposable buffer states where the actual body count gets manifested? I’m guessing I can walk by then and hopefully run as well (grin).
There are far too many of us here, given the choices made in terms of reasons for being here. Why are we here and who is it that is here? These are important questions but they don’t get asked often enough nor are they compelling enough for the vast majority of life forms in this time. They are critically important to me but I tend to focus on things that fall out of the regular fields of interest for the junkies of routine. I don’t care one way or the other about all the subjects that raise their lethal fevers in the minds of mortals. It’s the heat generated from these fevers that creates the multi-colored fog I was talking about earlier; a result of the condition I am prone to naming as The Humidity of Mortality. There’s all kinds of precipitation that goes on there too and only a very few of us are crystallizing and distilling in anything remotely identifiable as a Hermetic manner. I’m guessing it’s always like this. If ageless wisdom is so named because it is always the same then I suppose the departures from and pathologies generated from that departure must also be the same.
End Transmission…….

Visible’s Self-Improvement Guide,

Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World
‘An Exploration Toward the Ineffable’
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Otherwise known as Smoking Mirrors, Les Visible provides a voiceover in a disintegrating culture as Reflections in a Petri Dish. While in his guise as Visible Origami, Les offers perspectives on the invisible forces shaping our world

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