interlude / by IKB

Well kids, it looks like I am going to be reunited with most of my books in a few weeks, and what’s even more delightful, they will be transported to Santa Fe. I will bring some back, the rest will be dropped off at my house by my cousin as he makes his way to live in Houston, Texas, some time during August. I’m already dreaming of bookshelves … of sitting on the floor, with a sea of books sprawled all around me, bursts of light, of wisdom right at my fingertips! It’s rather exciting. I love books! For some reason, whenever I think of something, some idea, I always recall references to the idea, which are spread through a multitude of books … these manifestations of man’s thoughts. To put it succintly: I’m stoked.

Switching subjects, I love Johnnies, but especially my Johnnies. They are unique individuals with all-too-particular talents. My friends are not the best human beings in the world, nor are they the cleverst, the most amazing, the most ridiculous, the most adorable people you shall ever meet, as most people will claim about their particular friends, no, these Johnnies are interesting individuals with interesting stories to say. Funny shit is always coming out of their mouths; a bit of anachronism mixed with modern parlance, e.g., Greek is the fucking Britney Spears of the ancient world. Ah how much we shared … freshman year was amazing. It started with sadness, at least with respect to me for I realized that I was in a new place where there was no subway that I could ride out to the ocean, for the ocean always brings relief from the sadness that inundates my soul. In this place, there were no earthquakes, yet there were no forests of redwoods that would make me realize how insignificant I am in the scheme of things. Persons are obsessed with the idea that they are special. Waffles. Zeùs Patèr dispenses good and evil au hasard. There is no logic behind this divine dispensation; it is chance, the motor of the chósmos at work.

The Abrahamic people (Judeo-Christian + Moslems) seem to be under the delusion that each and every single one of them matters. Call my a cynic, “Juan you’re a cynic!” but Methuselah is more significant, having witnessed the convulsions of the world for millennia from its home in the rain shadows of the Sierra Nevadas. Just think, this wonderful expression of nature’s effulgent brilliancy, was a wee sappling even before the Egyptians begun construction of their majestic pyramids. It’s simply beyond my grasp. But I have no compunction about saying that it, i.e., Methuselah, is awesome.

Ah Johnnies, you mythical people I adore and hate. Ah St. John’s, you tower of Babel that teaches nothing of use … save obstinancy. Why did I walk away from your shadow, you corrupting force of the sick! T’was it so that I could enjoy a good book while sitting under the shade of a weeping willow, though we’ve got none to speak of here in this quaint pseudo-city and purported hotbed of the Ol’ West. Oh where are you horse-drawn covered wagons! Where are you lonely cowboys rangling cattle and riding your horses into the sunset! Where is this wonderland I’ve heard so much about?

And to think, that I … could have ended up living amongst fields of corn somewhere in Iowa. Hah. But there is still a chance for that. Oh Apollo, my favouritest god, though his name does not roll off the tongue as deliciously as Ares, save me from such a chance. Hah. Let not the weaver of lies send me forth to such a land! I can hear the bards singing: He was a Johnnie, dreaming of cold and eerie cliffs overlooking a fog-kissed sea freed from tempest and tribulation. And he travelled long and far, the sun blinding him until he came to this wonderful land of corn, Christians and calm. Ah! Here he settled but how he dreamt of fog and rain for in a previous life, he was but a mere peasant in the fields of Egypt, burning away under the tender gaze of Ra, and would never set eyes upon wine-dark sea. And how his speech gave him away, foreigner that he was, for he would always twaddle about the lesser to the greater, of the divinity of circular motion and something he called the Celestial Sphere. Oh what sheer nonsense. We all know that the Earth is flat!

Addendum: apparently Sarah never said “Half that shit is bullshit,” in reference to the things that come out of my mouth. According to her, it was Lucas who said this. I must say that he is perfect, for I always found him attractive and his humor more than delights me. I think he and I, we would have been a great match. Ah mentis gemellus or should I say simul nati ab sorte uno?