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LaLaLuvU.com

offline 160 friends
joined on 09/06/05
last updated 03/10/10
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deadside manner

Gender
Female
Age
38
about me
I'm trying to figure it out. If it looks like I'm not trying to figure it out, I don't care what it looks like.
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come closer, I'll shake off your flesh

April 24, 2010
I'd love to adopt LaLa, but it would feel all wrong when I ask her to "sit on Daddy's lap".

Filling out the paperwork now.
February 2, 2010
I don't realy know LaLa

About a week ago i sent a friend request out to this amazing lady on tribe , I had read some of her profile and realy liked what i read and saw , now every time i get on tribe the first thing i do is read more about this wounderful ,beautiful and very talented person . Thank you for sharing your heart with all your friends and family on Tribe I am very lucky to have made it on to your list of friends even if it is just on tribe becuse

I don't realy know LaLa
April 5, 2009
Reality rocks hard with this one
She is living it and skilled to tell the tale in a rambling of colorful hand selected words

Always a joy, even in her pain

La La is a delicious unique being
Use caution when operating
Open your heart and head to her
Enjoy the ride

Reading her words you are gonna learn something and challenge your artistic output

I like her just fine!

There, I said it,
Ms. Smart
June 17, 2008
look- i think you are awesome... ok?
i read this, in the book i am reading, thought of you... (when reading, remember who is giving you this abstract quote, k?...)
"My soul is black to its depth and the heart shines through like a beacon, or that powerful Egyptian self-induced light which moves all material things effortlessly. The pacified ghost roams at leisure within the pyramid, takes on the countenance of its own sphinx, expresses itself inwardly, and that pretty much excludes you."
so, the book is TROIA, mexican memoirs- by bonnie bremser
i thought of you, and do a lot-
May 13, 2008
i don't know you; we've never met.
we've only had a few well-placed blog exchanges.
But i love you, from here...
You make me feel icky and sticky, and deep, and dark.
I feel smart when i read your blogs,
and clued in when i look at your pictures.
i know you; I do.

in a scary, stalker way...
April 3, 2008
When I was a little girl my younger sister could not say my name and would call me La La and to be sure I have lived up to the name and glad to meet someone of the same vein x
September 11, 2007
A praise jeebus every day for his lovely creation known as "LaLa"!

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August 10, 2007
So much more than meets eye !! Way cool .......MMM ME LIKE SWEETARTS
Unsu...
 
February 12, 2007
She's like Puff the Magic Dragon. A wonderful children's story, that I used to watch in my underwear all the time, and also a metaphor for drugs.
January 11, 2007
I loves me some La La. And not just in a "I’ll be under your window sill with a pair of binoculars" kinda way.
Also in a geeky scary big brain trance, sorta way.
December 22, 2006
I crushed on La La at first sight, and now that I'm getting to know her brain, I'm in SERIOUS trouble.
December 15, 2006
Moo Baa La La La.

Her familiar style is whimsical and slightly tongue-in-cheek. She has very expressive, human-looking emotions, conveyed mostly through the eyes. A quacking duck and a neighing horse aren't intrinsically very interesting, but when they're facing each other with similarly baffled faces, there's a subtle humor. La La, by the way, is anything but subtle. She's pizzazed out in coordinating striped pants, solid sports coat, and elegant white bow tie. She dances and hold a cane in a showy vaudeville style.

We can't get this girl out of our heads! She's extremely catchy and enjoyable for us, and she always laughs when we get to the end. Definitely one of our favorites!
October 17, 2006
Lala is da shiznizzit when she's not otherwise da diggity bomb!
Unsu...
 
October 3, 2006
She has a car that is powered by electricity AND gasoline.
September 23, 2006
I simply Love this woman. I just love her so dearly, for all her silliness and style, and her beauty inside and out. And for being there and always coming up with the exact right thing to say. We will meet someday and will sit cross-legged on a picnic blanket and eat chocolate chip cookies and milk.

And we will Laugh.
September 14, 2006
La La is my favorite Dolly. I'd lure her to a life of Vice, if given the chance. She and I could lie on our backs, feeding one another dew and berries on an early morning mist, then spring up to galavant about among the hilss and dales of my favorite gothic place. It would be so dreamy. All of that, plus intelligent conversation on top? Utter Swoonsville.
Unsu...
 
August 26, 2006
She's cool as shit. Very sharp. Witty. Loves to laugh. The ideal person to shoot the shit with for hours on end. She seems to know something about EVERYTHING. La La also makes me laugh on a consistent basis like no one else here on tribe. And she makes me want to drop everything & run off to Mexico. And live like a peasant. Suits me just fine.
Unsu...
 
August 15, 2006
She has some cats.
Unsu...
 
August 14, 2006
She has a dog.
Unsu...
 
August 12, 2006
Abby, LaLa, Alea, Phoebe... she's a mercurial soul and a tender-hearted friend. She's one of the few tribers I've spoken with at length on the phone, and it's obvious to me that she's a caring soul with an untameable, adventuresome side. She doesn't just want to do good things, she actively explores her world and seeks out opportunities to make a difference. She isn't afraid to explore herself. She's incredibly intelligent, caring, funny, and has a tremendous aptitude to wrestle life out of every moment. Friend her without hesitation!
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I hear you.



Swift harms sent by gods cut off the paths of the foolish. -- Antigone

****

For a man, though he be wise, it is no shame to learn -- learn many things, and not maintain his views too rigidly. -- Oedipus the King

****

And everything you hated me for... honey--there was so much more...
I just didn't get
busted. - Magnolia Electric Co.

***

The older I get, the more I realize, age doesn't bring wisdom, it only brings weary. Self awareness doesn't reveal my indiscretion, exhaustion does. - Sam Crow, Sons of Anarchy.

***

It was easy making myself the same
It was easy making myself less
But to get better...
That's the hardest thing. - Magnolia Electric Co.

***

Has the will been broken?

Yes.

But into an answer. - Magnolia Electric Co.

***

That's how it goes in the commonwealth, and in the councils of princes. If you cannot pluck up bad ideas by the root, if you cannot cure long standing evils as completely as you would like, you must not therefore abandon the commonwealth. Don't give up the ship in a storm because you cannot direct the winds. And don't arrogantly force strange ideas on people who you know have set their minds on a different course from yours. You must strive to influence policy indirectly, handle the situation tactfully, and thus what you cannot turn to good, you may at least make as little bad as possible. For it is impossible to make everything good unless you make all men good, and that I don't expect to see for a long time to come. - Sir Thomas More, Utopia, Book 1

****

It really is this cold and dark in here. At least this town's being honest with itself. - Magnolia Electric Co.

****

And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats, none knew so well as I. For those who live a thousand lives, a thousand deaths must die. - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

****

And I wait for another
Revolution or revelation
It doesn't too much matter
If I see blood in wheals
"All shall be well" she said
But not for me
Not for me
The skeleton of the universe
Barbed wire of blues and stars
Remains unmoved
When the mother ocean covers me
I rush to drown
With her breakers

"All shall be well" she said
She said
"All shall be well"
But not for me
But not for me - Current 93, In the Heart of the Woods and What I Found There

****


I lean on the fence and you squat in the middle and we wait till

the stream runs dry.

Though you don't see the sense and we can't solve the riddle,

it's amazing how time flies.

And we hear the children calling. We agree that it's appalling

but it's best to keep on stalling. Count me out.

Now there's blood on my hands and I'm wearing a muzzle so I'll

look the other way. I'll place my head in the sand and let the

rest solve the puzzle. I'll think about just who's to blame cos

I hear the children weeping and I see the virus creeping.

History is repeating. Count me out.

Now there's chains round my neck and my head's in the oven and

the crowd kicks at my door. And you're leading the pack under

wraps, undercover cos you need to win this war.

You picked up your flag and kissed it with your black volcanic

lipstick. Now I'm simply your statistic...count me out.

- The Legendary Pink Dots, A Crack in Melancholy Time

****

'Tis an ill wind that blows no minds. - Malcalypse the Younger, Principia Discordia

****

"You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love 'til it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other 'til it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Real love isn't brains, children. It's blood. It's blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it." -Spike, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

****

"The real truth about it is, no one gets it right. The real truth about it is, we're all supposed to try." -Magnolia Electric Co.

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still water from Christopher Marlowe

setting: Dr. Faustus' lab in ITALY, 1580s

FAUSTUS: Where are you damned?

MEPHASTOPHILIS: In Hell.

FAUSTUS: How comes it then that thou art out of hell?

MEPHASTOPHILIS: Why this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, and tasted the eternal joys of heaven, am not tormented with ten thousand hells in being deprived of everlasting bliss?

FAUSTUS: [Then] scorn those joys thou never shalt posses.

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it's in me. that voodoo.



I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
a-travelin' through this world of woe
ain't no sickness, toil, or danger
in that bright land to which i go

I'm goin' there to see my father
said he'd meet me when i come
I am just goin' over jordan
I am just a-goin' home

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way it'll be rough and steep
yet beautiful fields lie just before me
where God's redeemed their vigil keep

I'm goin' there to see my brothers
gone before me one by one
I am just goin' over jordan
I am just a-goin' home

I'll soon be free from earthly trials,
this body rest in the old churchyard
I'll drop this cross of self-denial
and go singing home to God

I'm goin' there to see my savior
to dwell with him no more to roam
I am just goin' over jordan
I am just a-goin' home
I am just a-goin' home

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confessions

300 Words a Day Entry thirteen The swan song   This is me, sitting here and listening to the geese call in the steel gray morning sky, pajama clad and coffee drinking and lamenting the dirty dishes and the words I have to write and the future I have always been able to predict, and standing here [...]
Sat, October 10, 2009 - 8:40 AM permalink
300 words a day entry twelve keep the demons at bay with blame  I know how difficult it was for you to live in your head, and waking every morning to see if there was a letter from me…claustrophobic, weak, disconnected…but artistic, strong and better, too. Sometimes you were so perfect I thought there was no [...]
Sat, October 10, 2009 - 8:08 AM permalink
300 words a day entry eleven Good day   They can’t all be good days, mostly not. I tell myself it’s a good day if the first thought I don’t think isn’t about you, so this morning when I woke up sick and having those fever type dreams that make me shake and anxious, the ones that replay [...]
Sat, October 10, 2009 - 8:05 AM permalink
300 words entry ten The recurring theme of my recurring dream   I am forgetting something I am supposed to remember. Being afraid of something I used to control. Not being able to get the courage to go alone down into that cellar or up into that attic, even though I know there’s something in there that [...]
Sat, October 10, 2009 - 7:50 AM permalink
300 words entry nine On a train to nowhere (in particular)   I get poetic in the city. It’s looking at the skyline of buildings from a rooftop that gets me every time. I cry at the beauty and humiliation of man. I follow with my eyes the creatures on the streets moving along moving along moving [...]
Sat, October 10, 2009 - 7:27 AM permalink
originally published at confessions
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Fire Poi in the Blizzard of Feb., 2010

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♥ ♥ Luv 2 watch it burn ♥ ♥

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JuNkIE

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Of Fire and Of Ice

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About me, as of ~ March 10, 2010 ~

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FirePoi Our Love Is Easy Melody Gardot

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Siempre Me Quedara, by Bebé

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Fire Poi to Represent Cuba by Orishas

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very happy here

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all my world in fire

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the spare bedroom blog

Spinning Fire to:

Our Love Is Easy, by Melody Gardot

www.youtube.com/watch

Siempre Me Quedara, by Bebé

www.youtube.com/watch

Represent Cuba, by Orishas

www.youtube.com/watch
Wed, March 10, 2010 - 3:48 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
the pond is ice
it is black glass
beneath the thick blood, all things there are still and waiting, waiting
one last elegy for all things cold;
i knew you from your silence
one must have a mind of winter* wind

the wild winged ones glide upon the wind
they say the angels gaze grew to ice
when God made them, grew jealous grew silent
stripes of bloody hope and shattered glass
blood runs cold
waiting

a man waits
for me* smells my perfume on the wind
his kiss will not be cold
he is glacier ice
clear as glass
strong and silent

and you neglected me with silence
kept me waiting
would not even let me peer in through the glass
blow away in frozen, burning, arid winds
you turned my heart to ice
my bed is bitter cold

on the hills, ruthless cold
black birds search the ground, silently
peck the ice
soothe yourself waiting, waiting
for the spring wind
to crack the infirmary’s glass

drawing true-love-always and hearts on frosted glass
sucking on our fingers when they get too cold
trying to warn the others about the changes in the wind
soon it will be gone, it will be vacant, it will be silent
i will not come, but i want you to keep on waiting
frozen as ice

your lips are ice. your eyes like glass.
for you I have waited. i have grown cold.
you remain silent. i howl like wind.

*1 = Wallace Stevens "The Snowman"
*2 = Walt Whitman "Leaves of Grass"

image from the brutally creative Marcos Sanges www.marcosanges.com/

see the full post, "Sanges, Tea and Sestina" at lalaluvu.com/2010/03/09/...and-sestina/









Tue, March 9, 2010 - 12:22 PM permalink - 3 comments
 
Alex: We all love to wander in clown and create mayhem, break a few brains, perform naughtiness. There is a group of clowns we like to wander forth with, all with FKO hearts.
La La: What is a “FKO” heart?
Alex: FKO, fuckos, people who like to put the surreal in reality, mess with the normals a lil. One of my favorites went to the exotic/erotic ball in a ... lalaluvu.com/2010/02/20/...nder-blanck/
Sun, February 21, 2010 - 6:17 AM permalink - 5 comments
 
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hola

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Cold Mary

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standard answer

You asked me what I wanted to happen
And I said, “Magic” -- standard answer

I sometimes feel like you understand astral travel

-- that you get lost, too. But how do you do it? Among them

you must be something other than themselves, must be something they can’t lose.

I can imagine you must be something special.

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Devil Get Behind Me, Please

He grabs fistfuls of her hips like charmed snake dancers
Desert moon wild and yellow
In the rose scented hot spring steam air in the cold
Night

Stars radiating hot flash nirvana
In the purple shadow darkness
As the wind blows
Cool. Soothing. Against scalded skin.

Temperatures over 113 degrees Fahrenheit.

Utah.

The coyotes call
The canyons black and full of the blues, desire

Taking in the endless sky, twisting in his firm embrace
Slippery in the hot spring water, legs on legs

Handfuls of her hair
Pulling her back
Commanded with that easy power, that satin burning down her throat
Beneath the twilight void -- expanding

He is.

So,

She is undone.

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hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless

Now I can’t tell you anything you want to hear, so I make up things and
Keep my thoughts

I keep my thoughts

Hidden and to myself

And by the coffee pot in the morning is where sometimes the weight of it will hit me

I’ll just stand there crying into the grounds

And slowly, slowly…one by one all the thoughts come in dreams
In white hallways
-- rollercoaster Amsterdam highways
And cars that fly over bridges

With me inside, waving goodbye

But it’s just a dream. I wake up to the seriousness of the empty and
The big blue just above me and grab my chains

Everyday is waiting for something that will never come
I know you don’t want to hear that, so I
Keep my thoughts

I keep my thoughts

Especially the thoughts on why I keep them.

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career girl

“Do not cry
Or smoke

For fear of wrinkles, dear,” I tell myself

as the years fold in on one another, like
Russian nesting dolls getting smaller,

the surprise wearing thin.

Each spring feels more like fall
ing

into something, into a future unfolding

one I’m molding, quite absent mindedly,

self conscious of that austere apartment with the life size images of
all the people I wouldn’t let love me, they’re all in the country:
Happy.

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i'll swallow you slowly

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she doesn't know how lucky she is...

Giving in to love
And sharing my time
Letting someone into my misery
I told it all step by step
How I landed on the island
And how I swim across the sea
And it crosses my mind
That I may wait for a sign from you

No more breath in my hair
Or ladies underwear
Tossed up over the alarm clock
Blood dripping from the bed
To a neatly written poem
Heartfelt last line reading
There is no more mystery
Is it going to happen, my love?
There is no more mystery
Is it going to happen, my love?

It's all in my head
Morning after nightmare
You're building a wall
Higher than the both of us
So try living life instead of hiding in the bedroom
Show me a smile and I'll promise not to leave you

It happened under a rainy cloud
passing through the dark South
We went into a big house
And slept in a small bed
I didn't know you then
As well as you love me
We talked about side lines
And we went our separate ways
And we went off separately
I found your oversea's soveniers
Holiday greeting cards
Those long forgotten high school fears

It's all in my head I said
Banging on the piano
I've not been so alone
I thought since kicking in the womb
I drank so much tea
I wrote my letters in Kanji
Around the block I walked and walked
Pretending you were with me

Not wanting to die out here
Without you

The hurting never ends
Like birthdays and old friends we forget
There is fresh blood and blood is human
Trading phone lines
Trading lines
Unwilling to face
That love is found on the inside
Not the outside
And like a medicine bottle
In the cabinet
I'll keep you
And like a medicine bottle
In my hand
I will hold you
And swallow you slowly
As to last me a lifetime
Without holding too tight
I do not want to lose
The thrill that it gives me
To look out from my window
and scowl at the houses
From my world in my bedroom
It's all in his head, she read
In a girlfriend's self-help book
It's all his own making a war with himself
Like two sides with a wall
That separates two countries
He shuts out the world and wants only to
To love you

Not wanting to die out here
Without you

Not wanting to die out here
Without you

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even Christ stayed until....

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It only starts out pretty...

I remember feeling connected to
those campfire nights
and those
men in the dancing light
playing the guitar and singing,
the harmonizing, I remember. I knew
my place in the world
my child arms, like wings, unfurled
and I held those breathless moments
to my heart.

Even then I knew they were fleeting, ephemeral
like the Trillium in the woods,
- leaving even as we watched them grow,
and I remember feeling connected to the
the way the river
just knew which way to go

I guess things were different back then.
My parents perhaps,
less serious, maybe not as much had killed them yet,
I imagine, as all the things that have killed me, like them for instance.

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genius...

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it is a serious matter

Unidentified Guest: You will not be ready to change your mind until you recover from having made a decision. I have come to tell you that you *will* change your mind, but that it will not matter. It will be too late.

Edward: I have half a mind to change my mind now to show that I am free to change it.

Unidentified Guest: You will change your mind, but you are not free. Your moment of freedom was yesterday. You made a decision. You set in motion forces in your life and in the lives of others which cannot be reversed. That is one consideration. And another is this: It is a serious matter to bring someone back from the dead.

Edward: From the dead? That figure of speech is somewhat...dramatic, as it was only yesterday that my wife left me.

Unidentified Guest: Ah, but we die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger. [...] Don't strangle each other with knotted memories.

The Cocktail Party by T.S. Eliot Act I Scene III

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someone who scorned provincial

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mean sun sometimes

Title: Me, Dog

I’m bored
Let me bite you
I do want to rip skin and
I do want to lay still while you rip mine

I’m lupine

Spring fever dreams
Moonlight
And your early morning phone call

Made me want to rip the cord from the wall

I know you.
-- think you want to be consumed
by that hatred of yourself but
someday you’ll be mine

I’m vulpine

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appalachian celtic wicked banjo etc

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Liquid Utopia (short fiction by La La)

Just got chosen for inclusion in the Sigma Tau Delta Annual Critical and Creative Essays Journal, 2009 ~

“Well, the whole world was like this, you see,” Muse explained, laughing into her whiskey and coke, enjoying the power of her well placed words.
“You mean, there was a place for everyone? Different places with different rules? And if you didn’t like one place, you could just leave and go to another one?” The bearded man with black-rimmed spectacles, who hadn’t spoken a word all night, suddenly became animated. The smoky bar, the loud music; his words drowned a bit on impact. Nonetheless, Muse felt the shift, she knew she was getting somewhere. Finally.
“In effect. But it’s hardly that simple,” Muse looked down at her chest and adjusted her bosom to provide further distraction. She loved to keep everyone in suspense.
“Well what if you did want to? What would you have to do?” Asked the pretty female theatre student, named Jessica.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, dear,” said Muse. “May I have one of your cigarettes?”
“Yes.”
“Well if it was the whole world, I don’t understand,” said the bearded, spectacled man, whose name was Jesse, “How come no one has ever heard of it?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions, really,” replied Muse, shaking her long red curls down around her face, sipping her drink and watching the frustration on the young people’s faces, as they tried to think of better questions.
“Critical thinking is decidedly difficult for the 21st century college student,” thought Muse, “I’ll give it a little more time.”
“Well, the thing is, people have heard of it.” Jessica mused out loud, her blonde curls bouncing as she shook her head, deep in thought.
“Mmmm.” Replied Muse, taking a well-deserved drag off the cigarette, and shaking her head in encouragement to go on. “Please, go on.”
“Yes, please go on,” said Jesse, who had lit a cigarette of his own now and was furrowed about the brow and bothered.
“Remember last semester in Renaissance English that guy we were reading about his Utopia, Sir Thomas More?” Jessica asked.
“I remember,” said Jesse.
“So no one knows where it is, but people have heard about it,” said Jessica.
“But it doesn’t exist anymore,” said Jesse.
“On the space-time continuum, everything exists all the time,” said Muse, with a wry smile, intentionally complicating things for the sake of simplicity.
“But that place was all about conformity,” said Jesse. “What she’s talking about is something else.” He nodded towards Muse who was putting out her cigarette and blowing the last drag into the air. The low, yellow lights in the bar cast the other patrons in the place into deep shadow. The waitress walked up to the trio and asked if she could get them anything.
“We’ll take a pitcher of Utopia,” said Muse, getting her pocket book out.
Jesse and Jessica laughed, but the waitress had left with the order so it didn’t seem something worth laughing about in the interim of hindsight. Instead, Jesse picked up the glass of beer he had been drinking and began to pout.
“The whole basis of Utopia in those days was to give some hope, or relief or something...” Jesse began.
“Because of the haves and the have-nots, existing side-by-side, there then existed gambling, drinking, murder, theft, rape, jealousy, greed...all were symptoms of the illness though...” Jessica said.
“Of? Go on, go on...Of?” questioned Muse.
“Evil?” Jesse asked.
“Evil.” Jessica said.
“Evil.” Muse agreed.
“So, Evil...” Jesse said.
“Yes! Evil!” shouted Muse.
“So. Let me get this straight,” said the pretty blonde Jessica, barely twenty-one years old and finding her visions to be disconcerting, “Evil, is a necessary evil? And that is the basis of Utopia? A precursor for the desire for control is not being in control...a perfect world is the answer to an imperfect world...that’s f-”
“Keep going, keep going!” interrupted Muse “Yes! Talk it out. My dear girl!”
“I was going to say FUNDAMENTALLY FLAWED LOGIC. It’s a vicious circle. Are you saying that evil exists because we want it to?” said Jessica, suddenly turning pale.
“You’re saying that?” said Jesse, looking at Jessica who had put her head between her hands and was shaking a little bit.
“You can’t have one without the other,” said Muse. “It’s true.”
“Well, which one came first?” asked Jesse.
“Ah, now that’s the question. Which came first, the illusion of perfection or the illusion of imperfection?” said Muse laughing.
“Weren’t you there?” asked Jesse.
“My memories are attached to yours, to all of humanities. I don’t have the answer directly so much as my role is to help you find the answer,” replied Muse.
“So. All of societies ills are symptoms, then,” started Jesse again, looking about the bar that had become more crowded, he tried to peer into the hearts of the men around him, “of evil. Yet instead we treat the symptoms, not the disease. But if we treat the disease, the disease that we created, we essentially destroy what we have created.”
“We?” questioned Muse.
“Our society.” Said Jesse.
“You’re both saying that society created evil because of it’s fundamentally flawed logic of an idea of control in an uncontrollable world. You’re saying now, you, as in your society, is so far removed from the original concept of being that you can’t help but treat the symptoms of the disease you helped create. And by the looks on your faces, admitting to your part in the creation of evil doesn’t exactly look like something either one of you want to do.” said Muse.
“I guess it wouldn’t be so bad,” said Jesse.
“It wouldn’t be Utopia though,” said Jessica.
“No. I think we’ve decided that place doesn’t exist,” said Muse.
“Did we?” asked Jessica.
“I don’t think we did, I think we were defining it,” said Jesse.
“I thought we were talking about a long time ago.” Said Muse.
“Well, nothing has changed,” said Jesse. “Look around, poverty still exists, theft, murder, and all the rest of it which exists because of poverty, but that exists because evil exists. So we have to get rid of evil. That’s the goal of Utopia, in a way. But now I think I’ve lost my train of thought, suddenly. Damn it.”
“Well, actually, it would be less a goal, and more a constant state,” said Jessica. “Wouldn’t it?”
“I still think we have to define Utopia to have this conversation,” said Jesse.
At this, Muse clasped her hands over her mouth to keep a loud burst of laughter from coming out.
“Bartender! Waitress!” She shouted, laughing and reaching across the table to squeeze Jesse’s and Jessica’s hands, to reassure them she wasn’t laughing at them, just at the crazy world. “What is taking so long with that Utopia?”
“What is taking so long with Utopia?” Jesse asked, chain smoking.
“Well if you’re speaking rhetorically you may want to at least answer what the natural order of the universe is.” Said Muse.
“What do you mean?” asked Jessica.
“Well, Thomas More did say that if you can’t make something good, you can at least make it as little bad as possible.” Said Muse.
“Yes. He also said that you can’t make everything good, unless you make all men good,” remembered Jesse, taking another hit off of his cigarette.
“May I?” asked Muse, reaching to take the cigarette from his hand to take a drag of it herself.
“But men will never be good.” Jessica said.
“Not for a long time,” said Jesse. “According to More, anyway.”
“So More was polarizing. More was saying things are this way, things are that way. There is dark, there is light. There is good, there is bad. There are things we can’t control, but yet somehow we must control them,” said Muse.
“Then he was essentially arguing that people fight fire with fire,” said Jesse.
“Exactly! If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!” said Jessica.
“The government was trying to control every aspect of people’s lives, making people miserable. Utopia came out under the tumultuous and tyrannical reign of Henry VIII if I remember correctly...so More contended that the answer to everyone’s problems wasn’t less control, but more of it, an overabundance of it,” reasoned Jesse.
“He was a fascist in socialist clothing,” said Muse.
“Ouch! I like More!” said Jessica.
“Don’t miss the point, though,” said Jesse. “It’s semantics. It’s answering one set of false principals with another set of false principals. We’re not talking about truth anymore when we start using terms that quantify lies.”
“Then how is that these Utopias that you’re talking about,” started Jessica, looking at Muse, “exist at all then?”
“Oh, did I say Utopia?” said Muse, cocking her head to the side, her green eyes lighting up.
“Well, no,” said Jessica. “But you did say that there was a place for everyone.”
“A Utopian vision,” said Jesse.
“Yes, you made it sound as though these people operated from some Utopian vision,” said Jessica.
At that moment the waitress walked up and set down a pitcher of mysterious liquid that kind of foamed, kind of twinkled, and kind of actually laughed at them.
“How rude!” said Jessica.
“Yes, Utopia does tend to mock. It’s rather full of itself.” Said Muse.
“I’d say!” said Jessica, staring sternly at the fluid.
“Do the honors?” asked Jesse, lifting the pitcher of the self-satisfied brew to pour into everyone’s glasses.
The three of them held their glasses aloft, watching mesmerized as the syrup sluiced in. After clinking glasses high in the air, Muse gave them both a bottoms up sign and tipped her glass, draining it completely before setting it back down.
“Mmm. I could get addicted to Utopia.” Jesse said.
“Small doses is best.” Cautioned Muse, dreamily.
“Hey! Guys? I think I got it!” Said Jessica. “Hey!” She stood up, climbed up on the table and started shouting at the top of her lungs. “Chaos!”
“Oh my God! What is she doing?” Asked some bitchy looking girl sitting nearby.
But the whole place had come alive, the clocks even had a pulse, and now Muse was grabbing her coat from the back of the chair and taking Jesse and Jessica by the elbow. “I think it’s time we go.” She dropped a couple of bills on the table and ushered them both out into the cold night, the stars overhead winking hard at them.
Jessica whirled around and around, running ahead down the street, knocking over garbage cans, ripping posters off of light posts, cart wheeling headlong over parked cars and street signs.
“Chaos!” Jessica shouted.
“The natural order of the universe.” Jesse said.
“The Eristic principal. The Sacred Chao.” Said Muse, putting her hands in her coat pockets as she and Jesse walked down the sidewalk in the alley outside the bar.
“The sacred cow?” asked Jesse, who was ready, at this point to try and just believe anything as he was watching his young, blonde friend laugh manically beneath the slivered, crescent moon.
“A single unit of chaos. Pronounced cow, spelled c-h-a-o.” Explained Muse.
“Ah.” Said Jesse, who suddenly understood and started to laugh at his mistake, at the imaginary holy, glowing cow he had fixed in his mind. “A Chao!” he snorted, laughing.
“The whole control thing,” said Jessica, rushing up to them and putting her hands on each of their faces lovingly, “is a lie!”
“No one gets it right.” Agreed Muse.
“But aren’t we supposed to try?” asked Jesse, captivated by the sudden burst of freedom in his mind’s eye.
“Oh, we’re supposed to try.” Said Muse.
“So the opposing forces of the universe...are control and chaos?” asked Jesse.
“Well, from the way I seem to understand it, yes,” said Muse, “but I suppose it isn’t really that.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jesse.
“Well, we live in a polarized universe, simply by the definition we came up with ourselves just tonight...” Muse said.
“Yes!” said Jessica running up again.
“So our definition has to change,” said Jesse.
“Our perception,” said Jessica.
“Ah. Right. Our perception,” said Jesse.
“What I’m thinking is that, if we have determined that chaos is the natural order of the universe, well....it can’t have an opposition. There is only the false definition of constructed paradigms,” said Muse. “And we’re so removed from it.”
“So that makes sense because it gives further proof to the idea that Utopia is fundamentally flawed because it can only exist by suppressing it’s counterpoint,” said Jesse, “But think about it this way, wouldn’t the opposite be true then? Wouldn’t chaos have to suppress control in order for it to exist? Wouldn’t that be the Aneristic principal?” asked Jesse.
“Now you’re confusing me,” said Muse. “Can I have another cigarette?”
“No, no,” said Jesse. “I mean, yes, here’s a smoke. Need a light?”
Muse shook her head, her fiery hair shining beneath the moonlight.
“We seem to have lost Jessica,” she said.
“She’ll be back,” said Jesse.
They stood quietly for a minute, smoking and thinking about perfect worlds that didn’t exist.
“I just don’t know how I’m supposed to even...I mean...I know now that Utopia cannot exist because it’s principals are tragically flawed, yet it’s non-existence nonetheless exists in the creative mind, right? But ... you know, last semester I finally decided that life imitates art. I’m still sure of that one at least. So maybe there’s a way somehow to re-perceive Utopia as a place that exists, given the right conditions, given that people relinquish control,” said Jesse.
“Yes!” Screamed Jessica, rushing up to them with a stick and a snowball, waving them around. “I’ve been trying to tell you this for awhile now! Look. We can’t be concerned so much, we can’t be so serious, right? It’s not even about being “happy” by some random and individualized definition! It’s about not caring, like this stick and this snowball doesn’t care. You know the Native Americans believe that God is in everything. Even us. And if you think about it, what attachment does God have to an outcome? Our happiness is all based on a set of rules that are defined by lies. There is no such thing as happiness, only letting go to the attachment of happiness.”
“I get it, but you’re talking anarchy now,” said Jesse. “And I think Buddhism, but I can’t be sure.”
“It all the same thing. It’s the re-perception of Utopia. It’s liquid,” said Jessica.
“Finally,” said Muse.
“It took all night,” said Jesse.









 
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