Bandwidth Anthology, V1/p10:
Overbliss and Head Chimes
So I decided to take a lil’ wander. I’d been focusing on real life for way too much of the fractal spinning yonder. ‘Course I would’ve took a train from wherev rather than ‘port to the beast that is that far out on the map but there’s so much production here these days…
…we just seem to find a nice, stable crack of land to build on, around, megascrapers piling high like giant dildos crushing the sun; we get there and overpopulate thee whole byatch and that says something for our forebear’s forebears, drippin’ on that good flight to fight of fancy – the give what you take with respect thang…as Buddhist ecologies go, that would be great, yo!
Nevertheless, we clearly wandered from the path of enlightenment a long way back and have to travel way out of the city (read: ‘Copia) to leibach and see the infinite for what it is.
Without wanting to bore with the details, I get into the ‘porting shower and arrive amid the top of no-whev.
It was the cornerstone of our collective mindset to believe we’re the bright centre of our univertseas, but by the time I get way out north a few nanoseconds later, I see as above, so below I lay my fleece blanket down on the ground and gaze out at the reflective splendour of the greatness, the darkness out there; amidst a sea of lunar bliss and rainshines, overbliss and head chimes; and immediately above is the ever perfectly placed greatness that is the big dipper in the position of the ethereal question mark directly overhead; in so much as it could be.
Gramps used to talk of times with the top rolled down, rolling along the mountain roads (when they still had roads) looking up at the stars then down at the lights of the little towns, never knowing which was planned and which was the ethereal – the dream giver.
‘Course we know the stars are all exploding in a last pass of grace, former worlds changing long distant orbits, however subtly; all spaced thus to bounce off the push me – pull you of orbital mass and macrocosmos – not only do the big masses hold the little wrasses together, but surely they’re planned in the equilibrium they fall into as orbits settle and event horizon of mass seeps into the daily grind, too; whatev a day and wherev y’arr. Plus the lights of the little towns, random as the seamless night, all planning permission gained with true faith and sincerity, necessity and all; I never even saw those lights, ‘cept on the DV, but ya gotta figure no one had overall planning in mind.
There’s no great answer to the giant q-mark in the sky, pointing at the great magnet we all strive to seek, shooting fish at the barrel of our northern star…when we got the technos to needlecast up there, bouncing once again off every satellite, live broadcast, living on the edge of edges; hosanna.
So, I, Leibach, head back; gazing into the fractal alloyway that is the stars. I wander, eyes among them, leaping from supernova outcrop to supernova outcrop; I see no real plan to it but I do know it is the sweetest and most complex organism imaginable.
Clearly the great and capricious point here is the possibility of understanding all this: next to none. Another of Rebo’s Cathartistic collections of flames.
When one wishes to wash out the mental block, merely provide it with too many questions. In order to utilize the Rebofires in all their splendorous forms, the plan is to present the left logical side of the brain with just information to glimpse the light at the end of yr tunnels but not quite enough to answer the great questions; that’s why I’m here, I guess. This kicks the creative right hemisphere into action which, if sufficiently inundated, can, nay, should, set in motion the hemispherical bounce of mind panning – back and fourth/left and right/black is white and vice versa so it all becomes subconscious gravy; then the underbrain can set it’s dolphins into full stroke endorphin mode – sorting it all out.
…If we stir a crazy frenzy and forcefeed info and wisdom it’s never gonna take hold. Back in the day, dude Gandhi said ya gotta make the changes in yrself if ya wanna see them around you; it’s the only way.
The only way we can evolve as people is to not try too hard to rinse out on the dissemination of wisdom and see how it goes, take it as it comes like plain black coffee.
So I, laid back, swim through the Rebofires of the great drifting unknowable; softly spinning out of all conscious control – not knowing whowhatwhenwherewhyev.
Nothing matters so much as the great nothing, great above and so great as below, memories of street lamps I never saw at my feet and the luz memories of the supernovas lighting up the unhindered night sky.
No striving for greatness, no worries or care in thee big blue one; I, leibach, put more than extremities in the pool of the great fullness of the dead and the accepted emptiness of the living sweet cred…my brethren don’t always cleanse their heads like the way I choose to; but they’re just as smooth and on target as I…
…calling the Rebofires isn’t imperative but it sure as anything helps.
Subcon recon sleep on with the easy compilation of extraneous segments into conglomerates of the known and the doable.
11th, 12th, 13th March 2007
Colchester, Colchester-Oxford, Whitstable, Whitstable-Dover, Deal-Dover, busted flat Whitstable-Ashford