Dark Arts

2:16PM—and oh, Goodness Gracious!, but shall this be the most difficult to write of all, perhaps impossible, yet shall I try to do it justice, and let us see where to begin.

But I began the day at the gym!—after writing one or two, and the last time was I at the gym, did I compose a violent track and melody, and this one shall be violent, too, but gentle, and perhaps the two in Divine proportion, should God smile upon me. And after the gym, did I go do my errands!—first, to the Butcher, whom I had the pleasure of watching grind my beef, fresh!—that I could perhaps eat it immediately, since it is contaminated only upon contact with the machines.

And like the beef, should this piece be consumed immediately, since it should soon spoil, so is it temporal in nature, impermanent and fleeting, and hence so delicate!—and after the Butcher, did I go to my Bakery, a local shop, Rustic and warm, pleasing, and pleasurable, but alas!—were they closing up, the shelves empty, perhaps sold out of everything, and I left immediately.

And I tried to charge my car!—for I plan to drive home to see my parents tomorrow, and I sat in the supercharger, with my Grey Model 3, and I sat and tried to let it charge, but after just five minutes, did I have to leave—because I began feeling faint in my head, all of my mind engaged in how to write this piece, which I had felt building up ever since I left the home in the morning.

Wow!—and I skipped the grocery store, and to my future wife and woman in my life!—shall you have to tolerate this my weakness, that I may be called from another higher plane, and find myself weak and unable to walk in this one, or should I flatter myself.

But enough with the foreplay, and let us get down to business!

And!—my friend asked me why I never write about Texas, since I had lived in Austin, for just over a year, perhaps pushing two, jobless and schizophrenic, in the heat of youth, working on a project with a thesis flawed, and turning down women left-and-right. Yes!—because Austin is a city of sex and libido, and if you have not been, you now know—and I said, at the time, that “Austin,” or should I say, “Texas,” seems to be doing fine “without me,” paraphrasing my own words.

But what a city, and what a life!—of quirky individual character, and soul and spirit—and when I did go running shirtless, the women catcalled me, once or twice, or did they look upon me with eyes of healthy lust, whole and happy in desire. What can I say!—but, now a brief detour, before we return.

And I have not yet eaten!—but I got a Daily Sandwich from the Butcher, this one with an “au jus,” and I feel faint, mind overrun with thoughts and imagination and ideas, words written on the surface of my mind, mouthing them aloud as I write—but also, having exercised, cardio and weights both, no sustenance to feed my body.

So!—and now to the topic, but first, let us introduce the master who came before, and his name is Benjamin Franklin, and he wrote an Almanac, and in it, did he capture the “wit and wisdom” of the ancients who came before, perhaps a contribution or two of his own, and spirit and humility of an American culture made eternal.

And!—did he say that when a man speaks, you are to watch his mouth, and when you speak, to look him in the eyes, and it is this topic we shall discuss. For, if he speaks, you should watch his mouth and measure its proportion, and wonder whether it is symmetric and well-formed—and that you should read his lips, such that he need never to tell you to do so.

And why distract yourself with his eyes!—for he is giving you his words, and those are equally a window to the soul, for a poet and a man of my make, or a man of any caliber, and poof, there goes the soul of Da Vinci. But when you speak!—to look him in the eye and judge his mind and reflection, for indeed, do you see into his soul, and Da Vinci returns, as though he has never left, for where does one go who is tried and made immortal by humanity, and the test of time?

So!—these are the dark arts, and let them fail you not, and I shall never discuss how to speak to a woman, for I shall not let my wizardry be turned to witchcraft, and like Einstein, see my work and ideas turned into weapons of murder and mass-destruction.

Figure it out, damned reader!—and look not to everyone around you for an answer you can find with a piece of reflection in your soul, and the spirit of Austin is immortal—the city, not myself—and once, when I went into a sandwich shop, by the University, and I ordered a milkshake, Vanilla, I tried to pay—and they denied me!

And I walked down the sidewalk, and people parted around me, and perhaps I must have felt a touch Divine that day—and remember that all of these tricks you take from me, you shall never match me, without a piece of Divine soul and surrender to God and Heaven above, for not like in San Francisco, where technique frequently runs rampant and uncontrolled, does He operate.

Here is the technique, then!—and use it wisely, and I shall leave my ground beef for another day, let it contaminate, while I eat my sandwich, made by the loving and caring hands of the Butcher whom I hold dear.

Look upon this world and smile once again, may Thee, God!—and upon me, who knows not if he wrote in this true and straight, or if he laid curses upon the ideals he holds most dear.