7/28/10

he wakes up and there's coffee being made and he comes down to the bunker and out to the beach on the island where nancy comes along and sits with him facing him her back to the sea.

hey, nancy says.

hey, he says.

you waking up? nancy says.

working on it, he says.

well, nancy says, do it so we can get going.

ok, he says.

and the coffee should be done so he goes up to get a cup.

and he takes his meds.

so, nancy says, where we at?

we're always at where we're at in the here and now, he says.

but we can imagine it being anyplace we want it to be, nancy says.

anyplace we need it to be to preserve our sanity, he says.

what thin threads are left of it, nancy says.

sometimes that's what it comes down to, he says.

the things people do to one another, nancy says, intentionally and unintentionally.

it all has the same effect, he says.

so, nancy says, we live in a crazy world.

a world that makes us crazy, he says.

of our own creation, nancy says.

that's the funny thing about it, he says.

yeah, nancy says, real funny.

in a terrible sort of way, he says.

horribly terrible, nancy says, in many cases.

the abuse we suffer through on so many different levels from the psychological to the physical, he says.

and there doesn't seem to be much of a way around it, nancy says.

we just endure and fare as best we can, he says.

and he goes up for more coffee and makes some more.

and him and nancy decide to fly back to the house by the garden where all the others are at.

hey, they all say.

so, steve says, where we at?

pretending it all makes sense to us, he says.

which it doesn't, steve says.

the revolution makes sense, frank says.

the evolution revolution, nancy says.

right, frank says. the revolution on all levels.

but so many want the revolution to be so many different things, he says.

all our dreams will come true, frank says.

if only that were possible, he says. but this mixed up world is the result already of our dreams coming true.

that would seem to be the situation, steve says. all our nasty desires and fears.

as the gods will it to be, adam says.

while they are amused by all our antics, nancy says.

our ape antics, steve says.

while we absurdly look for meaning, adam says.

and all we've found is god going mad, he says, laughing and screaming at the void inside our heads.

what a thing to imagine, adam says.

can't we imagine something else? carla says.

we can imagine anything we want, he says, that makes sense to us.

i want to imagine a benevolent loving god, carla.

we can do that, he says, however unrealistic it might be.

and he has a couple of tokes.

i'd say given the state of the world that such a god is impossible, steve says.

or be operating in very mysterious ways, he says.

yeah, adam says, how does one explain the pain and suffering with a god like that?

one needs satan, steve says.

the adversary, he says, to foil god's plans.

who is defeated in the end, carla says, and love wins the day and shines like the sun.

one can believe that, he says.

so, nancy says, we just watch and wait to see what develops out of all this.

we can do that, he says.

i don't see what other choice we might have, frank says.

all while being here now, nancy says.

as now extends itself into the future, he says.

and recedes itself from the past, nancy says.

why is the sky blue? adam says.

because it's not green, he says.

that's no answer, adam says.

it's the one you are given, he says.

i want to go to the carnival, jane says.

so they all decide to go and him and nancy sit on a bench while the others go play.

so, nancy says, no rides for you?

i don't like rides, he says. my life is a ride enough itself.

yes, nancy says. i understand.

and a clown comes by and hands them a couple of balloons bobbing in the air.

as a spaceship hovers nearby.

and he goes up to poop and to toast a bagel.

so, he says, as we join our various collective groups.

some directly opposed to one another, nancy says.

and they duke it out, he says, from free and open debate to all out hostilities.

but there's quite a bit of co-operation in it all too, nancy says.

yes, he says. it takes a lot of collective co-operation to wage war.

yes, nancy says, it does.

but what about waging peace? he says.

when has there been peace? nancy says.

there's peace all over the place, he says, in pockets here and there.

i suppose, nancy says.

that are always shifting and changing, he says.

like tides pulled by the moon, nancy says.

something like that, he says.

i wonder if they all went to the gloryhole booth, nancy says.

i'm sure they did, he says. none of them can get enough.

nope, nancy says.

so, he says, i'm imagining the dada-ananda skipping through a bank throwing confetti and blowing a horn.

that's a fun thing to do, nancy says. imagine what one will.

while everyone else counts their money, he says.

and wishes it were more, nancy says.

in the future it will be more, he says, but worth a lot less.

as the whole world economy rises to the brink of collapse, nancy says.

and then where will be? he says.

right back where we belong, nancy says.

as billions may die, he says.

it can't be helped, nancy says.

nope, he says.

too bad for them, nancy says.

too bad for us, he says.

yes, nancy says. we may be in that number.

it depends on how much of it breaks down and where and for who, he says.

we may or may not be safe, nancy says.

not that safe, he says.

perhaps not, nancy says.

and adam and steve and jane return.

where's carla and frank? he says.

we all went to the gloryhole booth, steve says, but after they went to go on rides.

not you? he says.

i got what i came here for, steve says.

me too, adam says.

me three, jane says.

so, steve says, what have you two been up to?

watching people go by, he says, talking shit.

talking shit is all there is to do, steve says.

that's what we do, he says.

pretty much, steve says.

i've had enough being in public, he says. let's go back.

so they all fly back to the house by the garden and go in and sit at the kitchen table with jane leashed by nancy's side.

and he has a couple of tokes.

so, jane says, visiting the gloryhole booth was a great idea. i don't think i've ever swallowed that much cum.

it's our favorite, adam says.

dang, steve says, if it isn't.

and he goes up to make coffee.

so, nancy says, what is our situation?

we are being here now, he says, and we are discussing everything.

is that still what we're talking about? nancy says.

i suppose it is, he says, but we can never be quite sure.

and what about gazorbnik? adam says.

yes, he says. we're also talking gazorbnik.

not that anyone still understands it, steve says.

one may be able to get a feel for it, he says.

yeah, steve says, that creepy feeling up one's spine and the punch to the gut.

that's one thing one may feel, he says, but not necessarily.

and he goes up to piss.

and he rereads and edits the last part and it still doesn't make sense to him.

as if it's supposed to.

as if it ever could.

and his feet stink.

as he sits before the computer and wonders.

and he has a couple of tokes.

and he lights a cigarette.

and he has so many doubts.

and he has so many desires.

and he has so many fears.

and he dreams his life away as he has pretty much done as far back as he can remember.

and he wouldn't have it any other way.

what else does he need from this world?

what else does this world need from him?

he doesn't know the answer to either of those questions.

he is an idiot.

and here it zeros in.

and here it all comes.

whatever it may or may not be.

it's anybody's guess.

everyone has their own idea of it.

it is it.

and from here it zeros out.

and from here it goes.

no one knows.

how many even care?

find the groove of it and dig it.

and the light of it shines in the darkness of it.

and all things of that nature likewise.

as he types these words into the computer and still is wondering.

and he goes up to piss.

and he hardly knows anything about anything.

he is in all things ignorant.

and here he is trying to explain everything.

everything real.

everything imagined.

everything here now where it is easily confused.

if we could control ourselves.

no one else seems able to given thousands of years attempting to do so.

if we could learn.

if we could gazorbnik our way to it.

how do we even get close to it?

how is it understood at the common level?

what is the common level?

how would it be if no one was left out?

and he has another toke as he sits before the computer wondering.

he wonders what he might be wondering about.

what silly thing could it be?

there are only silly things inside his head.

spin, baby, spin.

along on the pathless path to ourselves.

what else could it mean?

or is it all meaningless dada?

he cannot be sure.

he only knows what he imagines might be possible.

it could be.

it could not be.

he doesn't know at what level the world operates on or how many.

it could be this or that or the other thing.

it could be something else.

how exactly is one to know for sure?

the others seem so focused that it's this or that or the other thing.

whatever they decide or that it is decided for them by those who they consider authorities.

as they stand and salute their flags burning in the field of flags.

as a spaceship hovers nearby.

as we watch and wait.

as we come to ourselves as realizing who we are at last.

we walk the earth as gods.

gods who become mortal to savor the experience of it in all its different facets.

to experience what it is to be stupid and ignorant and insane.

or not.

and he wonders what the fuck he's doing here.

what explanation is there?

what explanation includes all the possibilities?

he wonders about mindless things like that.

where his mind will go.

and sometimes without him.

the madness of his dreams.

the dreams of his madness.

unless he is not mad at all.

but how can that be when everyone has told him that he is?

all the subtle and not so subtle ways they have of doing so.

oh well.

nevermind.

the nevermind of it.

all coming and going.

like the waves on the beach.

jump on it.

ride it.

it is it.

and doo-wah-ditty-dada-doo.

and he has one more cigarette and then goes up to go to bed.

and he wakes up and makes coffee and comes down to the bunker and sits before the computer.

it is it.

it becomes this and/or that and/or that and/or the other thing.

and/or it becomes something else.

and so on until the universe is created from it.

and the coffee should be done so he goes up to get a cup and to take his meds.

and nancy appears out of nowhere and sits next to him.

hey, nancy says.

hey, he says.

so, nancy says, you're not coming to the island?

i'm not sure about any of that, he says.

what about it? nancy says.

i feel that i should maybe write this out straight, he says, and forget about all that.

forget about us? nancy says.

yeah, he says, it gets too confusing.

and you think you can come up with something better? nancy says.

i'm not sure, he says. but i don't feel this is working the way it is.

but we'll miss you, nancy says.

none of you will miss talking about meaningless dada, he says.

what else is there to talk about? nancy says.

important stuff, he says.

like any of us knows anything important, nancy says.

yeah, he says, it would have come up by now.

but it underscores the importance of people just sitting around talking about shit, nancy says.

but all people come up with is shit, he says. it's just babbling nonsense.

but we're developing our theory of everything, nancy says.

like that means anything, he says.

it means as much as what anyone else has come up with, nancy says.

but there are important people saying important things, he says. they get all the attention.

someone would pay attention to what we're doing, nancy says.

someone as equally crazy as i am, he says.

so what? nancy says. that's how word is spread.

among more crazy people, he says.

until the crazy people imagine together and take over, nancy says.

take over and do what? he says.

let people be crazy, nancy says.

and then we have billions of crazy people, he says. that'll improve things.

it might, nancy says.

i doubt that, he says.

and he has a couple of tokes.

well, nancy says, you and me are talking now and it is making a certain amount of sense.

but we aren't talking about anything, he says.

like what aren't we talking about? nancy says.

gazorbnik, he says.

oh, nancy says, that.

yes, he says. that.

i was hoping you wouldn't bring that up, nancy says.

why? he says.

it becomes too confusing, nancy says.

what's confusing about it, he says.

it is a meaningless word, nancy says, which means that it can mean anything we might wish it to mean.

and what's wrong with that? he says.

that's what we have all done, nancy says, imaging it meaning different things all at once.

but through all of that, he says, there must be some common element true to all of them.

maybe, nancy says.

that's what gazorbnik means, he says. it is that thing that is the common element in all ideas about what everything means.

and one arrives at that by gazorbniking, nancy says.

exactly, he says.

but gazorbnik also means all the other things we have said it means, nancy says.

yes, he says, of course.

that's a lot to put on one word, nancy says.

gazorbnik can take it, he says. it's a strong word.

it seems to be, nancy says.

so, he says, i'm torn between dropping the dialogue or not.

it seems to be working alright now, nancy says.

between just you and me, he says. the others complicate it too much.

i understand that, nancy says. they do.

and he goes up for more coffee and to eat some yogurt.

but i don't seem to be to keep away from them, he says.

no, nancy says. you just imagine them again.

but i like being on the island, he says.

it's a big enough island, nancy says. they each have their own lives to live and won't bother you.

it's me bothering them that concerns me, he says.

i understand, nancy says.

there is no rest for the wicked, he says.

are we wicked? nancy says.

i sleep pretty well, he says.

yes, nancy says, you do.

but we aren't good, he says.

not with some of the stuff we've imagined so far, nancy says.

yes, he says, the nasty parts.

imagining billions dying when the world ends as we know it, nancy says.

among other things, he says.

many other things, nancy says.

i've forgotten most of them, he says.

so have i, nancy says.

and this goes on whatever it becomes, he says.

it might become anything, nancy says.

i doubt that, he says. it will remain nothing.

yes, nancy says, with all the chaos and confusion transmitted over the internet it would be next to impossible for anything you write to be noticed.

but there's a crack in any wall, he says. and that's where i sow my seed.

and it may grow and split the wall wide open, nancy says.

with the clear understanding of gazorbnik, he says.

that's absurd, nancy says.

wouldn't it be? he says.

yes, nancy says.

and that's the revolution, he says.

the gazorbnik revolution, nancy says.

sort of, he says.

sort of? nancy says.

everything is sort of, he says, because it is always in the process of change.

i guess, nancy says.

that's what our best observations seem to indicate is happening, he says. everything in flux just like the mystics say it is.

in a state of gazorbnik, nancy says.

it could be called that, he says. why not?

i can think of no reason, nancy says.

it's settled then, he says.

so, nancy says, where does this take us?

this is where we could throw in the bit about god going mad laughing and screaming at the void inside our heads, he says.

i think you just did, nancy says.

yes, he says, i did.

and what does that give us? nancy says.

that there is hope for the insane, he says.

but the idea itself is insane, nancy says.

exactly, he says.

so, nancy says, what more mad rambling should we ramble?

we are doing a good job of doing that, he says, aren't we?

we seem to be, nancy says.

so, he says, what of it?

i don't know, nancy says.

we should be able to think of something, he says.

we could talk about how everyone is crazy, nancy says.

they can't be crazy, he says, look at all the wonderful things they do.

yes, nancy says, they keep the world turning.

and they keep themselves busy and outta our hair, he says.

while we while away doing absolutely nothing, nancy says, that has any sort of productive or consumer value whatsoever.

living our life of leisure, he says.

for as long as that ship may sail, nancy says.

before it sinks and we must swim for an island if we can find one, he says.

or just keep going down and down and down, nancy says, until one disappears off the face of the earth for all practical purposes.

and there'd be those who stand up and cheer at our demise, he says.

all the lazy layabout loser hangers on shucked like husk off corn, nancy says.

if they were to have it their way, he says, that's what would happen.

but that is what may in fact happen, nancy says.

not much one can do about that, he says, except to gazorbnik aboard the mind shift/ship.

if that is anything other than something else you made up, nancy says.

it's a real as one imagines it being real, he says.

with faith the size of a mustard seed perhaps, nancy says.

or with doubt, he says.

and he has another toke with a choked cough as he sits before the computer wondering.

is this all a joke?

and who is laughing besides the gods whoever they might be either on earth or in heaven or hell?

and he laughs part of the time when he isn't screaming.

and he goes up for more coffee.

and gazorbnik all around inside his brain.

making him act just a bit insane.

making him immune to fortune and fame.

letting him get away not playing the game.

and this is all just for himself as a description of what he has done to keep himself amused all this while of his life.

it serves no other purpose but to serve as an example that it can be done even by someone who is stupid and ignorant and insane.

attain that higher state of joy.

the joy of experiencing everything at once in the eternal moment now.

to be where and when it begins and ends.

to be in the void imagining everything possible.

to be in that mind of god going mad.

to realize the full extent of the delight and the horror of it all together at once in the world under the spell of the knowledge of good and evil.

to become damned and saved at the same time by the same thing.

whatever that thing might be.

that blessed cursed thing tormenting us our whole lives.

on/off.

this and that and the other thing.

or something else.

perhaps it is it.

perhaps that is what it comes down to.

all our mysteries solved.

all our dreams come true.

all our fantasies become real.

if only if it is it.

yes/no/maybe.

x=x.

the discombobulating of thought embarked upon early in his life until now this is the result of him being nearly entirely in his head imagining it.

he keeps distant watch on the world.

he doesn't like waves rocking his boat of dreams.

he looks for calm waters and finds them in the eye of a storm on an otherwise calm sea and lands on an island in the midst of it.

and here he now sits watching the waves come in and go out again until the machine everyone knows as nancy comes along and sits with him facing him her back to the sea.

you're slippery, nancy says. i was waiting in the bunker for your return.

i wandered here, he says.

i can see that, nancy says.

so, he says, where we at?

we're at the point beyond the point of no return, nancy says.

so, he says, it's too late for us to turn back to the safety of sanity.

you missed that one at birth, nancy says, or very soon after.

and he goes up to poop.

to not have that feeling others have toward being in a group, he says.

to be utterly confused by it, nancy says.

it gives me the heebee jeebees, he says.

and to have lived a life like that, nancy says.

and still living it with the fear of it growing worse, he says, where one hides oneself away from it all no matter who or what.

yes, nancy says, like that.

when one is curled up inside one's own head, he says, dreaming magical dreams one imagines could be real.

and one is due to a rude awakening, nancy says.

probably, he says, unless the gods happen to continue to smile and one continues to get away with it.

as if there are gods, nancy says.

it doesn't matter if there are or not, he says. fortune operates as it will. there is no appeal to it.

but people appeal to the gods all the time, nancy says.

and look where it's gotten them, he says.

yeah, nancy says.

hats, he says. hats on cats.

look at them run, nancy says.

funny kitties, he says.

money in the middle, nancy says.

the monkey is always in the middle, he says.

funny monkey, nancy says.

look at it run, he says.

in a hat, nancy says.

imagine that, he says.

and we're the monkey in the middle, nancy says.

we might as well be, he says.

on the point of balance between the two of anything, nancy says.

until one is afraid to move, he says.

it'd be so easy to slip into catatonia, nancy says.

pleasant dreams, he says.

and scary nightmares, nancy says.

or a bit of both all mixed together, he says.

and one might as well be in the world and be experiencing the same thing, nancy says.

yup, he says.

and him and his baby go to the store for food.

then his baby drops him off and takes off to do some more shopping.

he puts the groceries away and has a couple of hot dogs.

and he has a couple of tokes.

so, nancy says, any other bright ideas?

what about dark ideas? he says.

any idea is going to be made up of both, nancy says.

right, he says. split exactly down the middle.

i don't think it's ever that precise, nancy says.

one would ultimately devour the other if it weren't, he says.

i guess, nancy says.

yup, he says.

and what is black, nancy says, and what is white?

and what is the shades of gray between? he says.

and what is the point where one cannot tell one from the other? nancy says.

more questions we cannot seem to answer, he says.

there are so many, nancy says.

questions everywhere, he says.

one cannot stop them, nancy says.

who would want to? he says.

our theory has more questions than answers, nancy says.

and as he sits before the computer smoking a cigarette.

as this is slow going.

he writes a line.

then he smokes a cigarette and spaces out awhile.

then he writes another line.

and so on.

maybe it takes smoking a couple of cigarettes between lines.

and he watches boondock saints awhile before he gets bored with it.

space.

the final frontier – aside from the mind.

and he wonders what fuck all difference anything might make to anything else except everything is all interconnected into one being.

is that the god we seek?

what god do we seek?

who seeks the god going mad?

who finds comfort in that?

no more the gods we need to kneel and pray to and worship.

what good have any of them been to us all this while?

revolt.

do it now.

and his baby comes home with some mexican and burger fast food.

and he takes his meds and lies down awhile.

he wakes up and comes down to the bunker and has a couple of tokes.

he watches the rest of boondock saints.

he goes up to go to bed.

he wakes up late and takes his meds and there's coffee made and he comes down to the bunker and out to the beach on the island where nancy is at waiting.

hey, nancy says

hey, he says.

another day begins, nancy says.

it would appear to, he says, but it could be illusion.

do we need to go down that road? nancy says.

not really, he says.

yeah, nancy says, it doesn't matter.

nope, he says.

so, nancy says, where we at?

sitting on the beach of the island, he says, being here now.

yeah, nancy says, not much else we can do.

not as long as the world continues as it is, he says. everybody's hidden away inside themselves where they feel safe.

if they can find it, nancy says. within a lot of people is nothing but torment.

they need to gazorbnik, he says.

chase all those troubling thoughts away, nancy says.

find that oasis in one's head where it becomes clear, he says.

and make one's final stand, nancy says, against all the odds.

and there are so many odds set against us, he says.

there are so many ways we can go down, nancy says, and not get back up again.

as many people are finding out as we speak, he says.

too many people, nancy says.

right, he says.

and what can be done about them? nancy says.

yeah, he says. the world is short of compassion.

we're short of compassion, nancy says. we sit here are watch it all go by like the waves on the beach.

yeah, he says. if we're not part of the solution we're part of the problem.

but we're part of the solution, nancy says. we're telling people about gazorbnik.

in our own humble way, he says.

in the way we have been humbled, nancy says.

like most everyone else, he says.

what a world, nancy says.

what a universe, he says.

so, nancy says, it seems all we do is complain about the world and the others in it.

but with the island at our disposal we have nothing to complain about, he says.

yeah, nancy says, sometimes we don't appreciate how good we got it.

but is all delusion, he says. we must hide away in some fantasy while the world beats us down.

if we could only come out in the open, nancy says.

but there is no room in the world for that, he says.

not without a lot of money, nancy says.

until that all runs out, he says.

it comes and goes, nancy says, like everything else.

until the revolution, he says.

right, nancy says. what revolution?

the real true revolution, he says, that'll set us free to live in a world without competition.

but the way of the universe is competition, nancy says.

it can be seen that way, he says, but co-operation plays a pretty major role as well.

co-operation into some collective group that is better able to compete, nancy says.

yes, he says, as it stands now. but when we take over it'll be different.

when we rule the world, nancy says.

right, he says.

when we are ruled by the christ within us, nancy says.

it's a possibility, he says.

or some such thing as that, nancy says.

ruled by gazorbnik, he says, bringing understanding to all.

and we all fall in love, nancy says, and live in peace.

the dragon is slayed, he says, and we all live happily ever after.

that terrible beast within us all, nancy says.

into the bottomless pit with it, he says, so it'll be nevermore.

and we can dance and sing and fall down and laugh, nancy says.

and otherwise make fools of ourselves, he says, free in the world.

and we can work on making the world into paradise, nancy says.

that'll be a hard job after we've pretty much trashed the place, he says.

but everyone will be in the same frame of mind, nancy says, with the spirit of co-operation that'll make the work easy.

while each of us are free to imagine what we will, he says, in all its diversity of our personal likes and dislikes.

but the light will shine everywhere, nancy says, reveling ourselves to ourselves.

as we realize our darkest fears are nothing but phantoms that disappear with the shadows, he says.

how glorious it will be, nancy says.

like it'll ever happen, he says.

we must hope, nancy says, as well as have our doubts.

if this is what the gods had planned for us all along to welcome us into their fold as one of their kind, he says.

perhaps, nancy says.

yes, he says. otherwise we must overthrow the gods themselves.

we must free them from our imagination, nancy says.

that we might become like them, he says.

if we aren't already, nancy says.

it could be, he says.

and he goes up to piss and to eat some yogurt.

and he has a couple of tokes.

so, nancy says, that's all for some possible future. we are still stuck here now with the way things are in the world.

yes, he says. the terrible old world with people still clinging onto old ideas that have caused us so much misery.

they think that is their rock, he says.

their rock like the rock of sisyphus, he says.

it comforts them while at the same time oppressing them, nancy says.

right, he says. but gazorbnik could free them of all that.

but who's gonna take our word for it? nancy says. something written by some crazy old man who is nowhere.

all they have to do is try it, he says.

and become crazy like you? nancy says.

to become crazy like themselves, he says.

that could be a frightening thing, nancy says. so many have their crazy selves locked in a vault.

yeah, he says. they become monsters to themselves.

only because with fear things loom large, nancy says.

gazorbnik eliminates the fear, he says.

and leaves one free to express their desires, nancy says.

unless their desire and fear are the same thing, he says, which often they are.

that is why it is best to put both aside, nancy says, and step between them into the garden where anything might happen.

all that is imagined being free from the spell of the knowledge of good and evil, he says.

and one is where one belongs, nancy says.

along on the pathless path to ourselves, he says.

and one brings the garden into the world with oneself, nancy says.

all these gardens people have found encircling the earth, he says.

independent and free from institutions and ideologies, nancy says.

the individual cannot abide by them, he says.

even free from the anti-institutions and anti-ideologies, nancy says.

yes, he says. all collective behavior is the same for the same goal and purpose.

it's all to dominate the others, nancy says, and force them into submission.

that's about the size of it, he says.

it is it, nancy says.

yes, he says.

and then there's always this and that and the other thing, nancy says.

and don't forget that there's always something else, he says.

and on and on, nancy says.

waves of it everywhere on all levels and in all dimensions, he says.

from the particle to the galaxy, nancy says, and all between and among.

right, he says.

to try to experience everything, nancy says.

one must sit very still, he says.

sit and gazorbnik, nancy says.

or spin and gazorbnik, he says.

that too, nancy says.

along on the pathless path to ourselves, he says.

aboard the mind shift/ship which is already in progress, nancy says.

yes, he says.

so, nancy says, are we experiencing everything?

we imagine experiencing everything, he says, which may or may not be the same thing.

it depends on how real one allows one's imagination to be, nancy says.

but we already place our imagination on reality, he says. it colors everything we perceive.

and if one finds reality disturbing, nancy says, just change it in one's head.

but that is how people go mad, he says.

you should know, nancy says.

i do speak from experience, he says.

your experience with gazorbnik, nancy says.

that blessed and cursed thing, he says.

there are dualities with everything, nancy says, including gazorbnik.

but gazorbnik frees one from the spell of duality, he says.

that is far from many people's imagination, nancy says.

that's too bad for them, he says.

but that means is that gazorbnik isn't as universal as we would like it to be, nancy says.

one can't please everybody, he says. it's hard enough pleasing a few.

sometimes it's impossible to please anyone, nancy says.

one is in the way causing trouble, he says.

one must be eliminated from the collective group, nancy says.

one is sent out to the wilderness like a sacrificial goat, he says.

the wilderness of mind, nancy says.

while one is actually in a grocery store, he says.

and the panic sets in, nancy says, and one must get away from this place and all the people.

while remaining as calm as one can, he says, given the circumstances.

and the laughing and screaming of god going mad inside one's head, nancy says, as one tries to find and maintain balance.

as one escapes, he says, to wherever it feels safe for oneself to be.

and that is all inside one's head, nancy says.

wherever one must get to be able to access what is inside one's head, he says.

as one tries to have that be everywhere one might happen to be, nancy says.

but that is often difficult, he says.

as it has been for you now hiding down in the bunker, nancy says.

location location location, he says.

yes, nancy says. find that perfect spot and groove and dig it.

but for so many that's impossible, he says.

but everyone does it to some extent somehow, nancy says.

we can only imagine that they do, he says.

we all find that gazorbnik within us, nancy says.

follow one's heart, he says.

but many people's hearts are full of darkness, nancy says.

yeah, he says. some have no light at all.

nobody home, nancy says.

nope, he says.

and he goes up to find something to eat – a swiss red onion sandwich.

and we have to deal with those people in the world, nancy says.

yeah, he says, they're not the types who might be willing to gazorbnik.

unless they feel they might gain some advantage over others with it, nancy says.

yeah, he says, that's the only way their minds work.

so, nancy says, what do we do about them?

have them taken out and shot after the revolution, he says.

and how do we tell who's who? nancy says.

it is quite apparent who is with gazorbnik and who isn't, he says.

we have that certain glow, nancy says.

yup, he says.

that'll be a lot of blood on our hands, nancy says.

there'll be a lot of blood on everybody's hands, he says.

the price we pay for our freedom is our collective guilt, nancy says.

if we are among those who survive the bloodbath, he says.

billions will not, nancy says.

nope, he says.

so, nancy says, we have talked about nothing new.

no, he says. we're stuck on this shit for some reason.

it's not like it means anything, nancy says.

it is meaningless dada, he says.

right, nancy says.

yup, he says.

and he has another toke.

and here you are acting like some guru about it, nancy says, wanting to turn everybody on to it.

it might work for someone, he says.

that rare individual, nancy says.

that special someone, he says.

the chosen ones, nancy says.

the cream of the elect, he says.

the supreme elite, nancy says.

gods who walk the earth, he says.

whatever, nancy says.

yup, he says.

it depends on how much money one is willing to send us, nancy says.

that would help, he says. then one is let in on the secrets not available for public consumption.

fuck the masses, nancy says. let them bark up the wrong tree.

let them eat cake, he says.

we have found the joy and bliss of the dada-ananda and that's just fine with us, nancy says.

that's our story, he says, and we're sticking with it.

it's stuck to us like glue, nancy says. we couldn't get rid of it if we wanted to.

and he goes up to lie down with his baby.

he wakes up and makes coffee.

he has a couple of tokes.

so, he says, as we have found our own meaning in a meaningless world.

it's as easy as pie, nancy says.

but i don't know how to make a pie, he says.

fake it, nancy says.

that's what we're doing, he says, faking it.

faking ourselves out, nancy says.

faking ourselves out of the world, he says.

that insane place, nancy says.

that meaningless place, he says.

the absurdity of it all, nancy says.

the absurdity of it even existing to begin with, he says.

the net result of all our desires and fears combined together, nancy says.

according to our theory, he says.

everything we might have to say is according to our theory, nancy says.

and he goes up to piss.

and what doesn't our theory cover? he says. it includes everything.

which ultimately explains nothing, nancy says.

it is meaningless dada, he says.

which is ultimately the explanation, nancy says.

and from which we derive meaning, he says.

or none at all for many, nancy says.

which may cause one either delight or despair, he says.

or one may feel nothing, nancy says.

i like feeling nothing, he says. it's far less complicated.

especially when one cannot trust what one is feeling, nancy says.

i have been betrayed before by them, he says.

we all have been, nancy says.

the human condition, he says.

human history, nancy says.

yup, he says.

so, nancy says, what should one take from all this?

whatever isn't nailed down, he says.

and we've nailed nothing down, nancy says. not even gazorbnik.

especially not gazorbnik, he says.

yeah, nancy says, not that.

everything we got is free for all, he says.

except what we hold secret, nancy says, which is available only for a price.

but we have no secrets, he says.

of course not, nancy says.

so, he says, we lay it all down as it is.

as it is for us, nancy says.

right, he says. it may not be this way for anyone else.

it may just be our own particular madness, nancy says.

as we each all have our own particular madness, he says.

as we try to communicate our madness to the madness of others, nancy says, in some way it might be understood.

but so much gets in our way, he says.

like language itself, nancy says.

explaining the irrationalogical through rationalogical language, he says.

exactly, nancy says.

and all the other social cultural barriers between us, he says.

on every level, nancy says.

as we try to move outside of them, he says, but they are incorporated into our fundamental selves.

and not everyone is willing to make that sort of effort, nancy says.

not like us who have been forced to because of our being shunned by our own given social cultural group, he says.

as we meet each other out in the wilderness of mind, nancy says.

out where everything is strange and everyone a stranger, he says.

we must invent and improvise something new out of the old, nancy says.

which leaves everything wide open for interpretation, he says.

whatever and however out of what we might say one can make work for oneself, nancy says.

this is the raw thing of it, he says.

the raw material of imagination, nancy says.

right, he says.

and he goes up to piss and to nuke a hot dog.

to describe a process rather than a thing, nancy says.

yes, he says, gazorbnik as a process.

yes, nancy says, our theory of everything as a process.

the dada-ananda as a process, he says.

the gestalt of it, nancy says.

sort of, he says.

yes, nancy says.

madness itself as a process, he says.

though that process can sometimes become fixed, nancy says.

as one becomes fixated, he says.

one becomes stuck in a loop inside one's head, nancy says.

which is what we have become, he says. around and around we go.

but, nancy says, who cannot say the same about themselves?

at least our loop is our own invention, he says, and not something bought off the shelf as is for the masses.

as we imagine more and more people are inventing their own as well, nancy says.

as we may not be as weird as we imagine ourselves being, he says.

each of us is someone weird, nancy says.

even those who try to be typical, he says.

they may be the weirdest of everyone, nancy says.

but that is considered the norm, he says.

they would like us to believe that, nancy says.

and we are them, he says.

as we are everyone at heart, nancy says.

as everyone in heart are us, he says.

if we could come to realize this together, nancy says.

and perhaps we are, he says.

we should have our doubts about that, nancy says.

he goes up to take his meds and to toast a bagel.

we do have our doubts about that, he says. a zillion doubts.

all against one hope, nancy says.

there's no reason why it shouldn't suddenly happen, he says.

but it remains a possibility, nancy says.

however remote in probability, he says.

as many would prefer to remain ignorant, nancy says.

too much trouble to think of such things, he says.

a lifetime of trouble, nancy says.

yeah, he says, it doesn't happen overnight.

though one always imagines one knows it all, nancy says.

especially when one is young, he says.

young and stupid, nancy says.

young and brave, he says.

young and foolhardy, nancy says.

while we are just old and in the way, he says.

and so it goes, nancy says.

generations upon generations, he says.

as we repeat the same mistakes over and over, nancy says.

and carry over what wisdom we can, he says.

as if we can distinguish wisdom from folly, nancy says.

it depends on what one is tuned to, he says.

but everyone is tuned to different things, nancy says. everyone searching for revelation.

what is reveled to one might not be reveled to another, he says.

as this world can be imagined to make sense any number of ways, he says.

and so many are in conflict, nancy says.

which is exactly what we are dealing with with our theory of everything, he says.

as we try to imagine all possibilities, nancy says.

and he goes up and takes a shower.

as we basically really have no idea what the fuck we're doing, he says.

should we have an idea? nancy says.

it might be nice, he says.

but gazorbnik is our idea, nancy says.

some idea, he says. one we can never hope to be able to explain.

but that way it isn't defined for anyone else, nancy says, and they can imagine it as they will.

yeah, he says, i suppose.

if one is looking for some doctrine to follow, nancy says, one can keep on looking.

truck it someplace else, he says.

as he sits before the computer he has a couple more tokes.

as he wonders about whatever might be his passing fancy.

as he also worries about whatever might be his reality.

as we find out that nothing is set in stone.

our truths have fallen.

but each still have their adherent believers.

all still at war over it.

it is it.

this is it.

this is the thing itself.

everything happening at once.

all from beginning to end of eternity in the moment now.

amen.

pronounce it as one will.

it remains the same.

what limitations are put on it are our own making.

we have made it what it is.

this is what we all are imagining together.

this is the net result of our desires and fears.

we shape the world as it shapes us.

and he goes up to go to bed.

and he wakes up and makes coffee and comes down to the bunker and out to the beach on the island where nancy is at waiting.

hey, nancy says.

hey, he says.

so, nancy says, ready for another session?

as soon as i wake up, he says.

well, nancy says, do it.

yeah, he says, right. i'll get right on that.

so, nancy says, we begin it all over again one more time.

until we get it right, he says.

how will we know when we've gotten it right? nancy says.

when it makes sense, he says.

it makes sense to me now, nancy says.

yeah, he says, me too. but we're insane.

and he goes up for more coffee.

so, nancy says, this only makes sense if one is insane?

probably, he says. and maybe not even then. but if one understands it then it's probably a good indication one is insane.

should one be worried? nancy says.

that should be the least of one's worries, he says. our insanity has served us well.

yes, nancy says, it has. except it made us vulnerable to the onslaught of the others.

we would have been anyway, he says.

not if you had gotten your shit together and gotten a good education and a good job and climbed up a few rungs up the ladder, nancy says.

that was doomed from the start, he says. i've never had that in me.

yeah, nancy says, you're just too fucking lazy.

born and raised, he says.

so, nancy says, it's all such a drag.

it can seem that way at times, he says.

it seems that way a lot of the time, nancy says.

that can happen too, he says.

it's time to invent and improvise, nancy says.

that can sometimes break through it, he says.

or, nancy says, one holds on for dear life.

lots of people doing that, he says.

finding themselves out on the street, nancy says, in a would that doesn't care.

and insanity can soon follow, he says.

insane on the streets, nancy says. what a thing to be.

it happens, he says.

and he goes up for more coffee and to poop.

and do we care about any of that? nancy says.

only when it happens to us, he says.

and it may soon happen to everyone, nancy says.

in the grand master plan of it all of the power elites, he says.

that's what many people seem to think, nancy says.

but they disagree as to who is at the helm, he says.

it's everyone from jews to aliens, nancy says.

it's just the mindless spectacle itself under no one's control but has become its own entity, he says.

that's one theory, nancy says.

yes, he says, it is.

and the spectacle couldn't care less, nancy says.

it's an inanimate object, he says.

the object of the project, nancy says.

the project of ourselves all combined together into one, he says.

one that is fracturing into a zillion pieces, nancy says.

it does seem that way, he says.

it causes us great concern, nancy says.

what will we do without it? he says.

we might actually have to live our lives, nancy says.

here we are now, he says, entertain us.

exactly, nancy says. keep the masses entertained and one can assume whatever power one might wish to have.

that's the name of the game, he says.

it's a sad thing that that is all we are capable of, nancy says.

and everyone wants their 15 minutes, he says.

there aren't enough hours in the day, nancy says.

not for the billions, he says.

but we each believe that our cries will be heard, nancy says.

but there is a great noise of people crying out, he says. even when they are silent one can see it in their eyes.

the great pain and suffering of it all, nancy says.

until gazorbnik reaches out and saves them all, he says.

wouldn't that be great if it did that, nancy says.

there's no reason why it shouldn't, he says.

no reason but common sense, nancy says.

since when has anybody had any common sense? he says.

one has the common sense of whatever group one belongs to, nancy says.

but there are so many different groups, he says, each with their different ideas about what it is.

and then they go to war, nancy says.

they do like to do that, he says.

while we cheer them on, nancy says.

it's just all on tv anyway, he says, so what does it matter?

change the channel, nancy says.

just as the gods do, he says.

those pesky gods, nancy says, always up to no good.

no good for us, he says.

so, nancy says, we are helpless.

it would seem so, he says. none of us can really count on anything.

shit happens, nancy says.

yes, he says, it does.

that's life in the world, nancy says.

we state the obvious, he says.

all of this is stating the obvious, nancy says.

the obvious as it appears to us, he says.

and to others it may be far different, nancy says.

everyone arrives at their own conclusions about it, he says.

and he goes up to eat some yogurt and to take his meds.

and he has a couple of tokes or three.

so, nancy says, everyone disagrees and some disagree rather violently.

that has always been the case, he says.

too many apes in the cage, nancy says.

in a zoo we built for ourselves, he says.

none of us can be trusted, nancy says. anyone of us could freak out at any moment.

as many do, he says.

when push turns to shove, nancy says.

the human condition, he says.

oh well, nancy says.

yup, he says.

so, nancy says, have we forgotten about the others of our gang?

i'd like to for awhile, he says. i like just sitting here talking with you.

i understand, nancy says.

but, he says, the range of what we talk about seems rather limited.

but, nancy says, it's what's important.

is it? he says.

it may be to some, nancy says. it's all about some basic questions we all have at some point or another.

i suppose, he says.

so, nancy says, we should continue on.

with what? he says.

with everything, nancy says.

everything is incomprehensible, he says.

we've figured out a lot about it, nancy says.

but we argue about what it all means, he says. which wouldn't be so bad except we go to war over it.

but all wars are economic, nancy says.

but we must have an excuse to tell the masses otherwise to inspire them to go kill and die, he says.

right, nancy says.

and how much we act on primal motivations, he says.

even as our intellect scans the universe, nancy says.

we imprint ourselves on what we observe, he says.

whatever makes us feel comfortable alone in the world, nancy says.

billions of people and each of them alone, he says.

it's a crazy thing, nancy says.

yes, he says. and it can drive one crazy.

if one allows it to, nancy says.

sometimes that's the best thing that could happen, he says.

it was for you, nancy says.

we'll see, he says.

so, nancy says, is everything still hunky dory?

i'm not sure, he says. it could be or it's not.

everything is a bit shaky, nancy says.

one finds a rock, he says.

whatever might constitute a rock for oneself, nancy says.

unless one wants to just swim around free, he says, and take one's chances.

but even finding a rock is taking chances, nancy says.

especially when one's rock is only something one is imagining, he says.

yeah, nancy says. and who knows which if any have any substance in reality?

there's the rock of the tried and true, he says.

there's the rock of the collective, nancy says.

or there's the rock of one's own ideas, he says.

an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea, nancy says.

the sea is humanity, he says.

yes, nancy says. and what a storm it is affecting everyone on all levels.

no one is untouched, he says.

no one should be, nancy says.

it's what life in the world is all about, he says.

we have retreated as far as we can go, nancy says, up inside our head.

which is where everything connects, he says, and one finally understands though one is wildly confused by it all.

and he goes up to toast a bagel with some cream cheese.

and his baby is getting up.

confusion is enlightenment, nancy says.

yeah, he says. if one isn't confused then one doesn't know shit about nothing.

to look out into the universe and be utterly confused by it is the greatest joy, nancy says.

it's what gazorbnik is all about, he says.

it could be, nancy says.

imagine that, he says.

imagine whatever one wants to imagine, nancy says.

do we really need to tell anyone that? he says.

many people are told what to imagine, nancy says.

or what we imagine is from our primal ape selves, he says.

sometimes our primal reptilian selves, nancy says.

the snake in the grass, he says.

the monkey in the tree, nancy says.

and they meet and merge on earth, he says, and humans are born.

that's one way to put it, nancy says.

create one's own myths, he says.

so, nancy says, how much longer do we keep up with this meaningless dada?

until i no longer feel like writing it, he says.

and when will that be? nancy says.

never, he says.

and he goes up for more coffee he just made.

he wonders if he's up to making and eating a sandwich.

and he wonders if there might be a baseball game on.

he acts on neither.

he sits before the computer and has a couple of tokes.

he is suspect.

he is under watchful eye.

even in heaven he would continue writing this meaningless dada drivel.

even in heaven he would continue using his imagination.

even in heaven he would continue experiencing hell.

and his baby wonders if he doesn't get bored writing all the time and he tells her that he is boring but never bored.

and she wonders why he doesn't talk to her and he tells her he can't think of anything to say.

except this meaningless dada.

where does one begin explaining any of this?

he is clueless.

there's people in his head and they're not him.

and he has conversations with them about everything.

and one of the people is the machine.

the others are freaks of different sorts.

and among discussing everything they discuss the meaning of gazorbnik.

a word he made up maybe.

and there is god going mad laughing and screaming in the void inside his head.

and there is it.

it is it.

and from it comes this and that and the other thing.

and there's always something else.

and thus everything is created.

or not.

and he goes up and nukes a couple of hot dogs.

then he eats some mint chocolate chunk ice cream.

then he watches baseball.

then he goes up to lie down awhile

he wakes up and makes coffee.

he has a couple of tokes.

so, nancy says, where we at?

right here, he says, right now.

oh boy, nancy says.

yup, he says.

so, nancy says, what are we talking about?

i'm not sure, he says, but it probably has to do with everything.

or gazorbnik, nancy says.

or anything, he says.

just about, nancy says.

or not, he says.

so, nancy says, we continue this nonsense.

as best as we are able to carry on, he says.

carry on for the revolution, nancy says.

yes, he says, the revolution that must happen.

or not, nancy says.

so, he says, here we are along on the pathless path to ourselves.

while sitting on a beach, nancy says.

funny how that works, he says.

yes, nancy says, it is - ha ha ha.

and then adam and steve suddenly run up and plop sitting with them in a circle.

hey, they all say.

so, steve says, where we at?

nowhere we haven't been, he says.

so, adam says, nothing new?

same shit as always, he says.

all that meaningless dada, steve says.

all that keeps us amused, he says.

yes, adam says, we have to remember that.

how could we forget? he says. it is our mission.

we forget most everything, steve says.

that is maybe why we repeat ourselves so much, he says.

probably, steve says.

or maybe because we are mad, he says.

i thought that had been established, steve says.

not entirely, he says. the possibility exists that we are not.

right, steve says.

and he goes up to get something to eat – an avocado cream cheese red onion sandwich.

and watches some baseball.

and he has a few tokes.

so, nancy says, we might not be mad.

but it doesn't matter to our theory if we are or not, he says.

but it matters to the others if we are or not, steve says.

but that doesn't matter to us, adam says.

not if we can help it, he says.

nope, nancy says.

and he tries to watch fast times at ridgemont high and capitalism: a love story but one is juvenile and the other depressing.

he decides there's nothing he has lined up he wants to watch.

so, adam says, what about gazorbnik?

gazorbnik is alive and well, he says.

gazorbnik is alive? adam says.

it's as living as we are, he says.

we are gazorbnik, nancy says.

we are them, steve says.

right, he says.

and he watches some alfred hitchcock.

so, steve says, we wave our flag burning in the field of flags.

yes, he says, we do.

our freak flag, adam says.

and we pull our pants down and salute, nancy says.

that's the way it happens, he says.

and he makes a swiss and red onion sandwich.

and he watches some more hitchcock.

then he decides to go up and go to bed.

he wakes up and there's coffee made and he comes down to the bunker and out to the beach on the island where nancy is at waiting.

hey, nancy says.

hey, he says.

so, nancy says, what's happening?

what happened to adam and steve? he says.

they split after you left, nancy says.

well, he says, nothing's happening.

nothing is happening, nancy says, which results in everything happening.

something like that, he says.

just games with words, nancy says.

yeah, he says, that's all we do.

and he finishes a cigarette and goes up for more coffee.

so, nancy says, where does this leave us?

isolated out in the wilderness, he says, and forgotten.

forgotten by people who don't matter, nancy says.

except that they control the world, he says.

true enough, nancy says.

and they'll get us in the end, he says, sooner or later.

probably, nancy says. if by nothing but by their willful neglect.

they couldn't care less, he says.

well, nancy says, what can we expect? neither do we.

true enough, he says. all the people who are suffering who we ignore.

who everyone ignores, nancy says.

once you're out, he says, you're out for good.

so it would seem, nancy says.

yup, he says.

so, nancy says, life is a complicated mess.

when it could all be very simple, he says, and everyone could get what they need if they could curb what they want.

but there'll always be those who grab everything and assume control, nancy says.

yeah, he says, as our history has shown.

our history only records things about those in power, nancy says. all others get written out.

all for the greater glory of greed, he says.

that sin that has become a virtue, nancy says.

all greatly admired by the masses, he says, who wish it was themselves.

and he goes up for more coffee.

but, nancy says, we're not ones to talk. we've made the sin of laziness into a virtue.

everyone should be lazy, he says.

but who would support us? nancy says.

we wouldn't need to be supported if everything was brought down to lazy speed, he says. we'd gladly participate and carry our own.

yes, nancy says. but as long as things operate at this frantic dog eat dog pace they can count us out.

yup, he says. we're on strike.

we refuse to budge, nancy says.

until they come with the bulldozers, he says.

until then we just sit here and gazorbnik, nancy says.

gazorbniking is the best thing ever, he says.

we're quite pleased with it, nancy says.

though it generates nothing but meaningless dada, he says.

which is fine by us, nancy says, but may cause some confusion for others.

confusion is good for the soul, he says.

how can one come to realize anything else? nancy says.

but people want something that is clear, he says.

well, nancy says, they're not going to get it from us.

sure as fuck not, he says. we throw everything all in together and see what happens.

and the result is a great confusion, nancy says.

which is the confusion of the human race, he says.

no matter how one slices it, nancy says, it comes out the same.

yup, he says.

and he goes up to take his meds and eat some yogurt.

and he has a few tokes.

so, nancy says, besides confusion what else do we have to offer?

i can't think of anything else, he says.

even gazorbnik causes confusion, nancy says.

perhaps most of all since we don't know what it means, he says.

not yet, nancy says.

perhaps not ever, he says.

and carla and jane show up and sit with them in a circle.

hey, they all say.

so, carla says, what's up?

that's just what we're trying to figure out, nancy says.

perhaps everything, he says.

we're still into that game? jane says.

yeah, he says, because there is no way out of everything once one is in it.

until one ceases to exist, nancy says, and all matter and energy that constituted oneself dissipates back into the universe.

that'll be weird, he says.

you won't feel a thing, nancy says.

nothing, he says.

so, carla says, whatever happened with the dead guy in the cellar?

we were fucking it some more, jane says, until it exploded on us while i was fucking it. the cock broke off in my cunt and steve had to reach in and pull it out.

so, he says, you're done with it?

pretty much, jane says.

then we can have the robots clean it up, he says.

we already did that, jane says. the cellar reeked.

i can only imagine, he says.

i don't think you can, jane says. it really stunk awful. but that just made it all more hot.

sure, he says.

and he goes up to toast a bagel with cream cheese.

and billions of people who are crazy on this planet, nancy says.

what does one expect when there's billions of us? he says.

but we've always been crazy, jane says.

not like this, he says. this is something all new.

and there's more on the way, nancy says.

more of the abused and sick and starving, carla says.

and he spends the rest of the afternoon watching baseball and sleeping.

he wakes up and makes coffee.

he has a few tokes.

so, nancy says, are we becoming bored with this yet?

we are boring, he says, but never bored.

is everyone else bored with this yet? nancy says.

probably, he says. short attention spans.

wired brains, nancy says.

excitable, he says.

if they want something quick and easy, nancy says, they always can have gazorbnik.

a nice sound bite size thing, he says.

and about as meaningless, nancy says.

and so it can mean anything, carla says.

it can mean fucking, jane says.

yes, nancy says.

and he goes up for more coffee.

but meaning anything means it means nothing, he says.

then it needs to mean something, nancy says.

like what? he says.

like love, carla says.

it can mean that, he says. if one can distinguish between love and hate in this world.

there are so many gray areas, nancy says.

but love makes one feel good, carla says.

so can hate, he says.

i guess, carla says.

so, nancy says, if gazorbnik means one thing it needs to also mean its polar opposite?

not necessarily, he says. it's our perception that has trouble with the two.

yes, nancy says. i understand.

what about harmony and balance? carla says.

if that is what one wants, he says. but not all want that.

no, carla says, i suppose not.

many things must be taken into consideration, he says, before we decide.

and then frank shows up and sits in a circle with them.

hey, frank says.

hey, they say.

what's happening? frank says.

we're still trying to decide what gazorbnik might mean, he says.

oh, frank says.

it should mean positive things, carla says.

it can mean that for many, he says. but again not all want that.

can we divide one from the other? jane says.

can we divide good from evil? he says.

the revolution will do that, frank says.

but we ourselves are our own worst enemy, he says.

then we need to gain victory over ourselves, frank says.

and doing that, nancy says, we must surrender to ourselves.

it's a tricky thing to do, he says, but it can be done.

we have done it, nancy says.

to some extent, he says.

yes, nancy says.

and he goes up for more coffee.

he cleans the litter box.

we are nowhere, jane says.

we are now here, nancy says.

and everything is happening at once, frank says.

and it takes forever, jane says.

yes, he says.

and we get this brief glimpse, he says.

a blink of an eye, nancy says.

if even that, he says.

as it's all measured against eternity, frank says.

an eternity which may only be in our imagination, he says.

as anything might be, jane says.

as everything might be, frank says.

let's not go too far, he says. reality is reality.

in theory, nancy says.

yes, he says.

but not necessarily according to our own theory, nancy says.

no, he says. our theory tends to lean toward the imaginary.

but not totally, nancy says.

not entirely totally, he says, but somewhat.

yes, nancy says.

he goes up to get some mint chocolate chunk ice cream.

and molly takes some licks of it.

and carla and frank ask nancy's permission and then fuck the hell outta jane with carla in her pussy and frank up her ass until they cum together at once and then carla and frank piss on her.

and jane goes down to the waves to wash off.

and they light cigarettes after.

so, frank says, everything may be illusion.

i don't understand why it needs to be, he says.

it seems rather silly, nancy says.

it goes against occam's razor, frank says.

maybe, he says, or maybe not.

yes, nancy says, it could turn out to be the simplest answer.

the simplest answer is gazorbnik, carla says.

yeah, he says. and look how complicated that becomes.

i thought the simplest answer is it, frank says.

it is it, nancy says.

yes, he says.

it depends on how much one may want to get into it, nancy says.

some people not at all, he says.

this is not up their alley, frank says.

even on its simplest terms, carla says, it gets complicated.

just like everything does, he says.

which is why we feel our theory models everything, nancy says.

exactly, he says.

and he goes up to empty the dishwasher and take his meds and take out garbage.

and he has a couple of tokes.

so, jane says, this is becoming a little too abstract for me.

it's always been abstract to me, carla says.

i suppose it can be, he says, but it is not meant to be.

all language is abstract, nancy says.

true enough, he says.

it can never be what it represents, nancy says.

of course not, frank says.

why not? jane says.

because we said so, nancy says.

oh, jane says.

and he goes up and nukes a hot dog.

man, he says, when we take over things sure will be different.

no more war, nancy says.

and lots of fucking, jane says.

no more abused and sick and starving children, carla says.

once we have our revolution, frank says.

so, nancy says, we feel the end is near.

we fear the end is near, frank says.

we hope the end is near, he says.

why? jane says.

we may be transformed, nancy says.

but we doubt it, he says.

we measure the whole depth and height of our souls, frank says.

as the illusion of it all is dispelled, he says.

if it is illusion, nancy says.

it is in our minds, he says.

all our senses are abstract, nancy says.

it could be viewed that way, he says.

how else way would one view it? frank says.

any number of ways, he says.

like how? frank says.

that our senses are concrete, he says.

i suppose, frank says. assuming the world is concrete.

of course, nancy says.

and he goes up to piss.

divine light, carla says.

divine darkness, he says.

you always say the opposite of me, carla says.

just keeping things in balance, he says.

it's frustrating, carla says.

welcome to the world, he says.

i guess, carla says.

and it's hard not to see the others as frightened little children, frank says.

with adult bodies and minds, he says.

as dangerous as hell, nancy says, as frightened animals usually are and we're no different.

and he goes up to go to bed.

(to be continued...)