survival odds|trans-spirited reality|shouldn’t even be here

 

jueng

jm

I shouldn’t even be here. I have survived so many things, and still sit here in front of a computer more or less in one piece able to write a coherent sentence. During the past two weeks, I have fallen down a full flight of stairs, slipped on the ice on a step here by our side porch and fell flat on my butt, banging my back on the handicapped ramp, and clobbered myself in the head with a thirty pound ten foot long spud bar. all three were accidents. The only injuries I sustained were a scrap on my right leg from the first fall down the stairs, and a bloody cut on my head where the spud bar drove the button that is on top of my golf hat about a quarter inch into my skull. It seems to have healed pretty well though, and the scrape on my thigh is gone. So many odd dreams, such a tired winter, I have no fear of where I have been and have no knowledge of where I am going. I dream of dreaming, fired upon a nasty wind, playing cards with four jokers, saying good-bye to old friends, visiting with dead relatives, carrying myself through the unconscious eternity that defines poetry and structures reality, all outside the visible realm, but still coherent, blasted to the other side of some worn out incoherent reality fresh out of energy and carrying with it a galaxy torn apart through careless invisibility and current fathomed electricity, I cannot here the singing, I can only listen. It’s funny how a crack on the head as violent, pure, quick and succinct as the one I gave to myself this past Sunday can shift your consciousness, and put your vision in an entirely different sphere of reference, a different plane of reality so to speak. I should have been knocked out or something, but I got up quickly, felt the blood starting to rush down my forehead, and ran into the house to wash the wound and apply an ice compress all within a few minutes. Our new Springer Spaniel was out there with me running around as I tried to pry the spud bar loose from the frozen turf the surrounded the chisel end. It  was stuck about a foot deep. I turned and pushed it back and forth loosened the bar but could not free it. So I headed to the north, and right there under the eighty year old pear tree, the bottom of the bar broke loose from the frozen earth, and as I pulled, the force of the whole affair brought the bar crashing right on to the top of my head, I almost felt myself, or saw myself start to smile as I said “holy Jesus I just clobbered myself. What the fuck?” I got up off the ground. I could see the Springer running scampering all around as this whole scene transpired, I wrote the word “transspirited” first. What the hell is transpirited, I like the word though. Transspirited as in watching yourself go through a potentially life-threatening or health threatening situation. I was transspirited as I fell off the cliff and floated through space on my way down to the bottom of the chasm, falling through a mathematical formula that was visible to me as pure geometry totally understandable but totally incomprehensible. I stood transspirited as I watched myself being pulled into the roller-die on my way to what should have been certain death, but I survived, somehow, someway. I left the war somewhat less dense than I was when I entered but still remember many scenes and events in a transspirited sort of way. I was lost amidst the scent of gunfire and the greasy feel of blood as I stabbed my way through the enemy covered with a red system bleeding myself, but transspirited so I could survive. What the fuck am I all alone here? I can’t see anybody. I forget why I am here. The furnace just went on and I am tired from cleaning all day and chasing the dog. I am eternal, lost again, taken from my element, easy from the pavement, I say no I do think I will go because I do not have the strength, and wish not to enter in any alliance with the newness of devil reborn again, redundant in its evil, and finished unholy I renounce source and figure time and time again I will find my out way then back in again, It is amazing I am still here. It is time for sleep. It is still winter, it is cold, I am already dreaming and fall asleep much more readily than I used to but do not sleep as soundly except on the off occasion when I seem to vanish from reality, and go off on my own, just the way it is supposed to be.

Survive Through Survival