Organs

I walk around full of organs. Stomach, brain, kidneys, liver, skin, lungs. Hammond organ. The Silbermann organ in the Freiberg Cathedral of Germany. That’s there. Just under my tongue. And last night, driving home from Tukwila, I saw God in a burning bush, homeless & destitute. This is what happens when all the stops have been pulled & nothing filters reality. It just comes rushing in like a manic Great Dane & there you are, trying to put together your Venice itinerary. Will that ever occur? Where will all the tourists go? Don’t let another day go by without the magic touch of a professional masseuse. It will restore you to your body, & its myriad organs.

Do feelings require a speedometer? The rigging is rouge & is therefore spinach. I’m guessing the rest of the novel will be a bonanza for the insurance companies, & that integrity has a chance at last to go ivy at the bone. I am the virus. Yesirree. The spirit of outrage. Even the foothills nod to the gentle asymmetries of heaven. Miscegenation begins at home. Charity is just a whore. We all know what nudity can occur in language. I’m completely irresponsible. I confess. But what can you do when various polarizations hatch out in the saloon? We immerse ourselves in speech. We yell. We pound the table. We slug back shots of whiskey. And the language gets its poetry going.

Let’s see if you know this one, Mick Hucknall shouts to the crowd at the Sydney Opera House. “We know it,” someone in the crowd shouts. And Hucknall launches into “Holding Back The Years.” What a bush of red hair this guy has. The year was 2010. Hucknall had significantly aged since that video I saw on MTV back in ’85 or so. I didn’t do a very effective job holding the years back. They’ve deposited me here. “Strangled by the wishes of pater, hoping for the arms of mater.” Strange Latinate lines. It has a Catholic flavor. How did I get on this tangent? YouTube. Algorithms. It all bubbles up from the past in pixels now. The Pixies in pixels. The Dixie Cups in pixels. Wavelengths & photon energies. Invisible things. But felt. Like the draw of the ocean.

Water is two hydrogen atoms & one oxygen atom. But that isn’t water. That’s science. Because water is wet. Where does wetness come from? Water isn’t wet. Its wetness is our experience of water. But I still don’t get it. I don’t feel wet when I’m immersed in water. The feeling of wetness comes later, when I get out of the pool or lake I’ve just been immersed in. I stand before you a witness to the wetness of water. Which I don’t understand. Is the wetness of water an epiphenomenon like consciousness, or more like a head immersed in shampoo? What is the meaning of hygiene? Is hygiene philosophical? Is hygiene wet? Is consciousness wet? Consciousness doesn’t feel wet. Consciousness feels more like movement, or silk.