I think I am going to have to find a new barber.
I read this bit about the Enteric Brain. I guess when the ancients spoke of their bowels yearning for something or someone they were not as stupid as I thought. I was wondering since women have more stuff in their abdomens they think deeper abdominal thoughts than men.
Neuro term. A vast collection of nerve cells and paleocircuits in the bowel area, of such complexity that it has recently been called the "second brain."
Usage: In many ways independent of the brain proper--i.e. having a mind of its own--the enteric brain expresses itself nonverbally in visible "gut reactions."
Thinking about those forks in your belly.
DP think performance pieces, little vanishing text boxes.
I don't know if it has been a blessing or a curse, but that acid etched mind of mine seems to get more naked as I grow older. I been doing an existential strip tease in this strange place we call cyber which is neither here nor there. Something I got to do. If nothing else than to be a bad example. You know what hurt, how jota would crow about those women of litkicks who had run me off again. I miss that dude, but seems as if I would always wind up throwing bricks at him because I loved his poetry so much. There was anger festering there. Same with Cecil, I have made so many inane posts to him over the years no wonder he blows me off. I write something about childhood molestation and four degree's tells me it wasn't so bad, "you probably enjoyed it” Yeah there were some interesting people on litkicks. Many of them now here, and some with dual citizenship, friends of yours and Levi.
Probably one thing that shaped my worldview more than anything else was the accident of my birth in late 1940. Sitting in the front room by the light of a wood stove and an old floor model radio, listening to the nightmare from Europe. I hardly understood any of it I am sure, but kids pick up on fear. I was one paranoid little boy and all the way into my thirties I carried that fear. The problem with living in neurotic fear is tha when a real threat arises you are apt to miss it. I have left a trail of my own blood from The waterfront in Baltimore to Astoria Oregon because I did not see it coming, or it came out of the darkness too suddenly to stop it. I wonder why I did not pick the Fool from that deck. Geoff calls me crazy and he is right. Just smart enough to stay out of the booby hatch all these years. Cecil and Illuminara double-teamed me, just out of the blue Cecil sends me an email of a beautiful collage and right about the same time she emails me. Probably just a coincidence. Yeah just call me Martin Eden. When you notice your heroes have feet of clay. I felt that way about the Quakers, judih is right, religion is all about belonging. But sometimes we all need a hug. So like I was saying, you start to see your heroes have foibles, and you rise above their imperfections and see the good that attracted you to them. Litkicks was good at group hugs, but studio eight is better.
That soul mate of mine is a rainbow spectrum of the women of studio eight. Remember in high school were we all thought we had lots of friends. In truth if we make one or two friends over a lifetime that is doing pretty good. Just something about JW that makes me feel like I have known him all my life.
Come the revolution the first muthafukers up against the wall is going to be English Majors, I ran this through MS WORD eliminated all the squiggly lines, but Bill Gates tells me I still have a lot of fragments. I hope it is readable.
It just keeps rambling, no end in sight, going to cut if off here, Hester Doreen. You know I can still remember the soft warmness of Rose’s throat between my hands. The other day her daughter called me in tears, always on my mind is her son. I thought oh lordy what happened to the kid. But it was only a fight with her niece. I am circumspect about fights between women. Poor Cecil that time he tried to play voice of reason with Crystal.
DP I got no travel plains until next year. Maybe the spring. Levi has friends here, I would call myself his friend. I think he is naive to think he has his dues fucking paid.
That "group mind" of the three of them, that was a bad deal. As individuals they are smart talented people. But as a troika they are a grandfalloon. .
One of the basic concepts of Bokononism, the secretive island religion of Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, is that of a granfalloon. A granfalloon is a recognized grouping of people that, underneath it all, has no real meaning.
I suppose the carrot dangling from the litkicks stick was the mystique of NYC. For the people who are intent on being writers, getting published it was a good place to be. The chapbooks were a good idea too. I remember one of the things that Brooklyn said that appealed to me was his description of the litkicks business model. "We have no business model” that seemed to change. Some of the criticisms I read, some of the meanest painted him as the stereotype of the money grubbing Jew. That gave me the squirms. Something I like about studio eight, the atmosphere is not as heavy. Not a grim determination to make it as a writer. We just want to save the world through words, music, art and friendship. I could be wrong, I usually am, but that is how it feels to me.This is not what I would call a good ride for the reader. There are leaps between sentences, unconnectedness that make my eye balls twist. It is as spontaneous as I can get it for now..
Culture. In the Japanese art of shinyo, one supposedly may cultivate the nonverbal skills of an awareness center called the hara, a region of the abdomen, diaphram, and stomach, which may be trained to process "gut feelings" about another person's unvoiced motivations and moods.