I’ve been thinking a lot lately.
Making lists of reasonable reasons, if not on paper certainly in my head.
There’s this and this and this and this…
Then, yesterday I received an email from a Nick Forrest, which didn’t make any sense to me at first. It read
Subject: agatha defuse animate
bard bolshoi, chromatography conception bloomfield, defrock combine. compactify allure babyhood actinide dakota bureaucratic conveyance. bottommost capillary dobbin cancelled amos casualty astrophysical chairman cane burette chambers armenia. baxter alexander cruelty boeing angelic bloodstone browne
What is this? It makes no sense.
And then I realized.
This is "asemic poetry."
I’ve got this little asemic connection ,via my painting, to a group of artists round the world doing stuff like “concrete poetry” and this Nick Forrest must be saying hello in his own asemic manner.
That was it.
And then I recalled the poem I posted about a week ago. Yeah, I brought this on myself
probably with that bit of poetry that is actually an instruction on the lab’s centrifuge.
Now, it all was making sense and so I read again what Nick had sent.
And I began to get the feel... to understand.
So, I wrote Nick back:
Well, I really like "bottommost capillary dobbin," but the rest doesn't really help me make sense of a life that seems to be getting stranger by the moment.
“Cancelled amos casually.”
And I don't know if it’s good when it begins to fall into place. But, "Yeah."
“Angelic bloodstone browne.”
I really meant that, “Yeah,”
And was feeling pleased with making yet another little contact out there in radio-land,
When my email system sent a "failed delivery" notice.
Apparently, “Nick Forrest” is some kind of obfuscated computer dead-end in the UK.
And I had been carrying on, happily conversing with, even finding meaning in, the non-sense of some spam generating computer.
UNIVERSE to PATTY:
"You have gone too far!"
Coyote, you’re hanging in the air and the cliff edge is over there.
Get back, Honky Cat!
Sometimes non-sense is just non-sense…
Unless the intellect/intellectual gets a hold of it and starts thinking WAY too much.
So, (Good Buddhist that I am) from now on I am going with what’s right in front of me,
With That which simply Is.
... (In fact, I’m doing that right now) … (look. No hands) ... (Doing it.) ...
I find I still really like the phrase, “bottommost capillary dobbin.”
How very curious and
It all works out
even without a brain churning away.