Archive for the ‘So Like That’ Category
GENESIS
Here and there. Now and then. Here and now. Then and there. So and so. This, we discovered, was the order of the dimensions: Space, time, existence, memory, and mind (in that order). Thus we came to comprehend, and to name, the space-mind continuum. And, thereby, we would explain the many awful and wonderful phenomena that we witnessed; but, especially, those things which emerged where effigy and imagination converged.
The type. The prototype. The archetype. The impression. The imprint. In their turn, we became familiar with these terms. By their practice, we came to experience how art was created. And thereby, we could picture how mankind came to be. For, though we didn’t know the cosmic order of things; nonetheless, we could see images of ourselves. And so, we knew that we were mental objects, or beings. Notwithstanding, we remained in the likeness of physical objects. Thus, we could choose what impressed us. But, we still followed our imprinting somewhat mindlessly.
As such, there were impersonations. And this we saw when fads emerged. At these times, desire and want took over. Or, similarly, any public spirit might invade what would otherwise be a private life. Thereby, the individual was shown to be a mockery (or a god). But then, we were mockeries of gods. Should we attribute such lives to incarnation and reincarnation or to spiritual possession? Who could say! Forthwith, we came to understand anonymity and death.
Thereby the idea, the individual, the ideal, and the image came to apply to the creation of god himself! First, we saw him in visions. Then we felt him through his mercy, his pity, his peace, and his love. And so finally, in these ways, souls came to be self-evident.
At least this is how I acquired my divine image, my group image, and ultimately my self-image. Because, this is how I gained my ability to symbolize. And only thus was I able to reason, to rationalize, to generalize, to justify, and to use logic.
This, except for confusion. And that because of those twilight places where consciousness came to interact with conscience. There, duality was embodied. So, rather, this and that with the exception of THERE (and THOSE things). For, these things bespoke of good and of evil. Yet from here, THEY became manifest….
PRIDE AND POWER
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"There’s Warhol," Said Pride. "Hey Warhol," said Power. Pride and Power Talent often spoke as one person. Twins don’t, generally though people think they should. Pride and Power did because having Power echo what he said made Pride feel more proud. And knowing that Pride would stand behind what he repeated made Power feel more powerful.
The Talent boys had just sauntered into the Public Art Library. Warhol was perched on a high stool facing an easel and canvas in one of the studio carrels which subdivided the center of the multi-level gallery. He didn’t hear the twins call out and so he didn’t turn around to acknowledge them. Rather, he remained glued to the white canvas and the 20 some-odd black lines painted there.
"Don’t you think its odd that Warhol was named Warhol?" Power asked Pride. "I mean, that he has the same name as the famous artist… and he’s also interested in art, that is," he continued. "Brain says that, after millions of years of evolution, it should be more of a surprise that random things still occur," answered Pride as they navigated the potted palms which dotted the atrium in their trek across the clay tiled expanse to see what the young art enthusiast found so interesting.
Warhol caught sight of Power as the brothers approached. He craned his long neck to the right, his head pivoted a bit to the left, and his beady eyes darted across his shoulder to focus in the dark one’s direction. Thus, he knew Pride was at his other shoulder without even glancing in the fair-haired brother’s direction. But for the sake of art, he reeled his attention back to task. And yet, he welcomed them with a grunt, "Ugh". And so, they responded with mock grunts and jovial laughter: "Ugh" and "Ugh"! (and ha ha ha).
"Why are you so tall?" Pride started in on him. "He’s not tall, he’s skinny," Power chimed in. "His arms are too long…" and "…they flop about when he gestures." they continued in turn. "You wrists are too thin," said the one. "And its too hot for long sleeves," added the other. But, Warhol ignored them.
Your hands are too big…
And your fingers are too spindly!
That turtle-neck makes you look like a chicken….
A black chicken, ha ha.
No, a crow… with troll hair.
Yea, Troll, cut your hair!
"You should, at least, comb it!" they agreed at the same time.
"There," said Warhol in a slightly effeminate voice. "Did you see that?". He made a wildly exaggerated gesture toward the picture with his paintbrush. But the twins were looking at him, or at each other, though definitely not at the painting; so, they saw nothing. And, as such, they continued their banter.
Aren’t those pants tight on you?
Yea, how do you sit down?
He doesn’t…
No, he doesn’t.
He drapes his bony ass over the seat, is all!
And then, he simply slouches about!
Pride and Power found each other infinitely amusing whereas those who knew them had mostly stopped listening. "Boys will be boys," men would say. "Its only a stage" their wives would agree. "Yea, they’ll grow out of it," strangers would offer. And crowds of eavesdroppers and onlookers would nod to themselves and to each other. So, everyone had come to an agreement, it seemed, regarding the impropriety of two boys having such a close bond.
"Indeed" and "tsk tsk" the girl’s short skirts confirmed as Faith and Hope swished by them. Their tits were stuck high in the air. And their minds were on girlish things. So they took notice of the boys… and of Warhol’s fashion accessories (how the soles of his leather sandals were fatter toward the toe than at the heal and how his peace symbol would sway heavily about the apex of his neck-chain each time he leaned forward). But the boys didn’t see the girls. For, such was the way of girls and of boys.
FLATLAND
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“There!” said Warhol, again. And so, Pride and Power looked and commented in their usual way.
“They look like lines,” said Pride. “Yes, wavy lines,” said Power.
They’re black.
Yea, black lines.
They aren’t straight.
They’re MOSTLY straight, though.
Straight, then a curve down. Straight again, a curve up. One line like that. Then another.
They aren’t flat. They slant, I mean. A line, a space, another line… kind of angled up.
Those are angled up. These are angled down. They’re angled lines with bumps and dips. They cross each other!
You bet, they crisscross!
The Twins were enjoying themselves as they fed into each other. In this way, they were encouraged each by the other. And so, Pride did motivate. As such, Power did inspire. Yet sometimes, in that way, they’d be lured down an illogical path to a false conclusion. Notwithstanding, this time they were certainly right (”Definitely, right!” and “Surely right”)!
“No… no…” Warhol protested, standing up. “No!” he squeaked and stomped his feet. “You aren’t attending to it properly!” he quavered… using odd words and drawing out their syllables with emotion like he was wont to do. “They’re not LINES. They don’t CROSS. This isn’t a BUMP and that isn’t a DIP.” He ejaculated the words “lines”, “cross”, “bump” and “dip” as if, because of their seminal nature, they were repulsive to him. Then he tossed his brush down, shook his oval head, and pulled at his bleached hair with both lankish hands.
“Most affirmatively, they figure to be serpentine linearities,” said Pride stomping his feet and exaggerating his words for fun. “And, in actuality, the otherwise straightness of them transverse,” said Power waving his arms about and flopping his wrists. “Ha ha ha,” they both laughed in unison.
Thereupon, Power punched Pride in the shoulder good naturedly. Whereupon, Pride made a back-handed slap toward Power’s crotch.
As such, Power was moved to block Pride’s cuff. So, he slumped into a semi-crouch and used his cupped palms to protect his jewels. But, he squealed just a little bit as he did. And that had caused the more seemly patrons to glare, snort, and take on superior airs as if to say “Why aren’t those two more like that dainty one, there? We marvel at his bearing, his grace, and his charm. One can tell, he is emotional and sensitive. Just look! He’s so refined and so delicate… like a little flower.”
On seeing how the observers reacted, Warhol settled primly. In contrast, the boys froze… shocked. For, they could never understand it when people reacted that way. Then they straightened, too, in mock civility. And in this way, they finally piped down (though Power kept hands to front and at the ready).
Warhol had The Twin’s full attention now. So, neither he nor they noticed when Faith bent over, as if to pick something up, and flashed her beaver in their direction. Similarly, no one heard Hope giggle as the girls left the building.
