Established Marvel : a Monk by Abbreviation

157. LOOK CAREFULLY AT ALL THINGS:

Once we make dis-information our first claim it’s easy to influence everything else – the word goes out that an idea is being spread and lemming-like everyone accepts it (I always hesitated to assume that people get the references on two particular things : ‘lemmings’ and the entire idea of ‘lemming-like’ and also ‘Masada’ and the entire idea of 'Masada-Complex' or ‘Masada-like’ but I’ll leave that be for now) : the whole idea of myself in these days I'm covering was that I remain wrapped in mystery : my paintings were all about mystery and the words I spoke or wrote pretty much were too – and I’m not talking Agatha Christie versions of mystery I’m referring more to ‘enigma’ or the enigmatic fashion of leaving someone wondering just exactly it was they’d just experienced and I found that doable by developing an idea of ‘one-remove’ from things : the simplicity of it was that in the way I was living (day-to-day amidst nothing and changing places all the time) all it was really was a reflection of my own reality which had led me to a certain ‘mark’ past which the entire contents of all the rest of my life had altered and been changed to another level : I sought nothing certainly not relief and I was always able to just keep moving along : facing difficulties but understanding them and eluding danger : and it was always funny to me to see how so many people are stalled at a single-level consciousness (in their ‘public’ sphere anyway) wherein the getting and keeping or the distributions of their tangible lot on Earth are all that matter – traipsing through time as if their will and word was everything both singular and right and most powerful and they sought to change things by fiat by all the while ignoring (remaining in ignorance avoiding disdaining) any and all aspects of their on-hand working and durable creative consciousness their psychological underpinning their truer and more-real and concurrently eternal subconscious workings and I’d see the guys with the umbrella carts just shuffling along with their two-dollar umbrellas in the rain (once it really rained of course they’d find a concealed and rain-free covered spot from which to sell) and I’d know they were involved somehow in something else but that they too were looked upon by others as the caste-underdog of reality’s foul system and that just like the weather until it rained no one cared about them – and that was symbolic too of the means by which they lived the rest of their lives these passers-by scurrying by and feverishly scouring NY’s street on their way to and from their mischievous little fancy jobs – they ignored the rain until it rained and they abhorred their consciousness until it too overwhelmed them and then they found themselves seeking to purchase their solace or sense from some strange shadowy underclass of idea and thought tucked away deep in the sheltered recesses of that which passed for their present mind : all the while unfeeling and stupid and dense like a dank gray cloudy overcast day before the rain : and I also realized somehow that it’s that sort of thing which builds the great buildings and motivates the daring enterprises and brings forth the crazed outlandish characters of dictators and autocrats and power-players of all sort THAT which motivates the empires and business titans of all time : the compensation for the missing subconscious the over-weaning substitution of it by something else – it’s that which allows Kings and Generals to hear the voices of their ‘God’ on the battlefield telling them to ‘sojourn on’ or fight for this ‘honor’ or that to conquer in ‘My Name’ and the rest of that – it's the base-cause behind terror and flame and murder and mayhem and it’s ALL misunderstanding and error and nothing more – the working attributes of any God which does not truly exist except ‘within’ that spot those working attributes are eternal and constantly expanding and turning and removing things while replacing things and that enormous pulsing lava of vast consciousness floods into each of us in dark ways and secreted recesses from which we somehow eventually DO find we all can communicate and understand the world but at the same time from which we all find separation and the distance necessary from each other to make this world ours and structure it around ourselves for the ‘Bell’ must ring true if we are first to hear it : it all demands a fealty and an allegiance to the message and the power and the source but (filled as it is with memories and regrets) we misconstrue it and make stories about it which substitute for it other submersible ideas which are never quite up to snuff nor equal to the true mystery of the subconscious craziness we are all related to : read any religion read the trial-and-error factor of Mankind over the ages and see the sequential power-and-effect reality from which this faulty world was built – the resultant fantasy (sometimes dark sometimes happy) ends up as sentimentality and froth – the sort of things told by a ‘Mammy’ to a chil’rins sitting at her feet : all those myths and stories the vague B’rer Rabbits of the eternal mind – we ever source from that same deep well – the darkness the blackness the eternal awe and wonder the cosmos of time and happenstance embroiled and turning together the stories of the universe the sense and ideas of all space and time and the trials and errors of all Mankind (no I’m not saying the Joel Chandler Harris wrote the story of God either - I’m just saying look look carefully at all things).