Inversion…..  it comes through when I listen to the television, or music, but most of all it comes at night, when all is dark, and quiet. It’s concept.… a complicated piece of pie, but not completely indigestible… just hard to swallow --- at first.  Kinda like “Mad Magazine,” remember?  Upside down world, nothing as it seems.  So “turn it (the world) upside down and what do you have?  The living below and the dead above ...…. for one.

 

That’s inversion.

 

So… throw away all your previously held beliefs and ride the wild horse of inversion, into it’s dark, inky waters.

 

Or quit reading now.

 

Lest you find out that good can be bad, white is black, and often, the sky is brown… like dirt.

 

It’s all around you now, like dusty silt that coats the back of your head, and slides around to cover your eyes from these… words.

 

Do you feel it?

 

Describe to yourself, the feeling as it cloaks you in its magnificent drapery of non-truths, even as you struggle to shake the chains from the cloth?  Can you see muddy snow falling from a dirty sky, and do you begin to drown… in the sea blue sky at your feet?  Be not scared, it’s nothing other than inversion, and it will not harm you… but it will alarm you.

 

For if it’s truly a “Mad, Mad, Mad, World,” and everything is not as everything seems, if white is black, and dark is really light, then dead becomes alive, or vice versa, and good becomes bad. Inversion

 

So instead of being good and alive, we are really bad and dead.  Instead of light being bright, it’s dark, and the darkness spreads its light far and wide, as inversion prevails.

 

Do you remember that first night, lying in each other’s arms?  The way you felt, as you realized that you had it all, but that it would eventually leave you, and you’d learn the definition of emptiness, and think of it when you began to read about inversion? 

 

Think back… in clumps of years, and as you split-apart time… marvel at the many rivers you create from one…. look at yourself in your inverted sense, and let the earth slide around you .… into inversion.

 

Instead of falling down, you’re now flying up, ready to meet life on your terms… finally.  Lessons learned must be tossed away, and impossibilities absorbed as realties… while in the motion of throwing. 

 

 

I turned the machine off, and stared at it.

 

A tape recorder in a box. 

 

It had been sitting outside my front door this morning.  Tripping over it, on the way to work… I at first thought it was a frigging bomb, and it was only after several minutes of calm, rational thoughts, before I could pick it up.

 

At first I thought that was my first mistake, only to quickly discover how wrong I really was. 

 

Not having time (already late) I irrationally decided to go back into the house, unwrap the package and see what it was.

 

That was 15 minutes ago – or back then… 15 minutes from now. 

 

The feeling I felt unwrapping that brown paper remains mine and mine alone, simply because it’s indescribable.  When I unwrapped everything down to the bare essentials and discovered an old tape recorder… I felt like puking.  Pushing the play button felt like the stupidest thing I’d done in a long time, but the words that followed 

 

-         were like drumbeats in the jungle –

 

A jungle full of wild beasts, bad dreams and the devil himself. 

 

And following those words ---- I inverted everything life could possibly throw my way and felt the emptiness of everything I’d previously thought of as real, as I shook hands with Inversion itself, and settled in for a long, long, comfortable ride in a jungle no longer that.   Now,,, a beautiful forest with natural waterfalls, and full of birds….singing.  So amazing was my ride I forgot to remember that it wasn’t real, and was condemned to believing it to be real, when it never was. 

 

Such is our predicament now as we seek to find solid ground, knowing that Inversion is likely… truth hidden behind lies.... all these years.

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am the nowhere man.  No… I don’t have anything to do with, nor to say about J. Lennon, or the song he sung about me, and I don’t know about the 27^th Chapter, and I didn’t spring from his, or anyone else’s imagination; I am the nowhere man.

 

I walk the beach every morning from 5 a.m. till the sun finally rises, and then I cook fish for breakfast.

 

You search for me … but I’m nowhere, for I am the nowhere man.

 

After breakfast I sleep in a cave, while you search for the nowhere man.

 

When the sun is at it’s highest I come out and stretch, and usually go for a swim.

 

You seek me for the answer to your puzzle.  It’s the number 32 that is your puzzle.

 

Those 2 little numbers, and puzzle on top of puzzle, have you hanging around.

 

I’m getting a little tired of the clowns… sans the music.

 

After my swim, I take a nap while you lap up recent sightings of the nowhere man.

 

You want answers to your questions; questions without answers, yet… still you seek me, but can’t find me.

 

I’m running hard.  Running blind through a dark alley, and you’re on my but… but you can’t catch me because I’m nowhere to be found.

 

After my nap I get on the computer and blog till I grow weary of the games, and turn it … off, leaving you nowhere while you look for me.

 

Actually you know me better than you know your neighbor, but fail to see me at all, for I am the nowhere man.

 

32 is full circle.  You can see the circle but not the fullness of the circle …

 

One day about a year ago, you rubbed dirt from a window in a circular motion and through that circle of clean; you looked in and saw me… looking back at you.  Fear at finding the object of your search sat you back on your haunches and while you reeled I ran, and you’ve not seen me since.

 

Now, time is running out, and while 32 means nothing to you, and the circle round the moon haunts your very soul, I can only sigh, and watch old movies on my television with the crooked antenna.

 

…and as I sit here watching Gilligan’s Island munching on my ham sandwich supper, I think about those days not so long ago when you chased me up and down the streets of the city, cursing your own timidity when upon finally finding me you reeled and I ran.

 

It was one of those Hard Rains; you know the kind that makes you wonder exactly when it started, and if it’ll ever stop. I could hear it pelting the roof of the trailer, and the sound pulled me into semi-consciousness, the whiskey fog clearing enough for me to hear her rummaging around in the bathroom. She was making “quiet racket” in my head, on purpose I was sure.  It was pissing me off again, and I knew she would swear that she was trying to be quiet. A drawer opening, a cabinet door snapping shut, the frigging toilet “flushing” - for god’s sake. 

 

It was all her fault anyway, if she would just not piss him off all the time, everything would be okay, but no, she was constantly fucking up. Like tonight when he’d come in from work, stressed out and with a headache.  She’d started in on him about the furnace being broke down, and why didn’t he get it fixed. It’ll be cold again tonight, please get it fixed, blah, blah….

 

The repairman had said it would cost $250 and he had to have the money upfront, no credit. He’d told the guy to come back tonight and fix it; it was payday, he’d have the cash.  And the dumb-ass did come, but at the wrong time.  She’d just mouthed off to him one too many times, and after a couple of body punches and a few to the head, she was a crying heap in the corner. When the doorbell rang it was like the bell at the end of a boxing match. 

 

Round over.

 

The question was “had he heard anything”?  Looking out the window, the drape pulled back to peeking range, he watched the guy, standing on the porch waiting for the door to open.  He looked over at her again and said in a low voice “that they would not be answering the door tonight.” He’d watched as she stood, blood leaking from her mouth, and moaned loudly, holding the right side of her head.  With a shaky gait, she’d stumbled down the hallway toward the bathroom, and he’d noticed again how fat she’d gotten after 20 years of marriage.

 

With a sudden grunt he’d gone to the window and watched as the repairman got back in his van; watched the van closely as it backed out and pulled away from the house. Striding to the front door he kicked it open with his foot and went out into the night air.  He could smell rain, and felt the urge to drink beer, drink a lot beer.  Al down at the bar would cash his check; there might even be a girl for him somewhere. 

 

Now as he lay in the bed, with her making enough racket in the bathroom to make his head begin to throb, he began to get even madder.  He’d tried to get one of the sluts down at Al’s to take him home with her, but she’d told him to get lost. Before the words were hardly out of her mouth he’d grabbed her by the neck and was watching the terror in her eyes when Al had blindsided him with the baseball bat he kept under the bar.

 

 

The blow struck him on the right shoulder, and was delivered with Al screaming at him, telling him to get the fuck out of the bar.  But before he could respond to the attack, he was lifted up by strong arms and carried to the back door and tossed in the alley.  Trying to get back in, he was met by Al, who threw his jacket at him and told him he was calling the cops.  As the door slammed shut again, he saw a police car cruise by the entrance of the alley. 

 

Running around to the side of the bar he managed to locate his keys, unlocked the door, and in swift sure motions started up the car and eased away from the bar. He always prided himself on being able to react to the situation and sober up enough to escape.  Later, safely across town and at the “Nightdive,” another bar he frequented, he’d told everybody a completely different account of the incident.  All the guys laughing at his descriptive narration of scaring the crap out of the slut, and how he’d made her go out in the parking lot and give him a blowjob. It was after 3 a.m. when he’d staggered out of the bar and drove home, now barely remembering the drive.

 

She was in the bedroom now, in the closet, still rummaging, but quieter now; but not so quite he couldn’t hear her. Raising his head from the mattress he tried to get up, but realized he was way too drunk to stand as he watched the room spin around, and tasted guile in his mouth.  “Shit” he thought, what would it take to get her to leave him the fuck alone.  I’ll just lay here for a minute he thought, but must of drifted back asleep because when he opened his eyes the light was on in the bedroom, and he felt something hard at the back of his head. 

 

“Randall.”

 

“Randall.”

 

He could hear her voice but didn’t know where she was, and as he thought about it a little, he really didn’t care; he just wanted her to shut up.

 

“Randall,” can you hear me?

 

“Yeah,” he answered.  “I hear you bitch.”

 

“Do you remember that night a few years ago, when that guy cut you, and you thought you were dying?  How scared you were, how you cried in my arms telling me you didn’t want to die.  How scared you were of death.”

 

Her words straightened out his thoughts a little, and he began to wonder about the hard object at the back of his head; he tried to raise an arm to feel it, but couldn’t get the message from his brain to either one of his arms, and instead, he just stared at something on the floor.  It was gray, a case of some sort. What is it he wondered, thinking he should know what it was. 

 

“Randall, I’ve got your gun at the back of your head and you are about to die.”

 

Her words burned into his brain, and he finally recognized the gray object on the floor for what it was.  It was his gun case, the one that held his .45, always loaded, always at the ready, now opened and empty.   

 

Outside he could hear the rain, it was a Hard Rain, and then he heard the thunder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah it’s time, but that’s all it is; it’s not yesterday, and only pretends to be tomorrow. I’ve been trying to catch it, but you know - cause you’ve tried too - that it’s the “old catching wind in a bottle” thing. That’s a tired cliché for sure… can’t you do better? Oh I don’t know… that’s a pretty neat little saying when you think about it. “catch wind in a bottle.” So… what are you two up to? He’s tripping on the “wind,” and you really don’t want to know about me. How bout you? Trying to find time. “Time?” That’s funny, because he’s been trying to catch it, though come to think of it…. I really doubt if he knows what it looks like, time that is. You’re right.. nobody’s ever really identified it, much less explained it. Didn’t Einstein find it? No, he didn’t - but that’s not relative, merely a theory. I was thinking today while I was walking in the mall, smelling all the different aromas, taking in the pre-Christmas shoppers, how time was the same today as it was 30 years ago, nothing’s really changed, time is still time. Yeah, you’re right; the only thing that’s changed is you. Ed Bradley died today. Yeah I read about it. He was only 65. Yeah, I thought he was older. Daze was 59 the other day. Yeah, and I’ve always thought of her as being in her forties. Everybody’s trying to find a way out of this maze. No, not really, everybody knows there is but one way out. Not right, not right at all, there is no certainly about only being one way out, there could be another. Of course but what? I don’t know, but there could be. The Eternal Optimist? Today I am – but check me tomorrow, I’ve been known to flip…. flop. Did you vote? Yeah, straight D, that be a capital D. Me too. Aye! Me too. Aye? Damn, sounds like something the Cap’n would say. So… we hung one on Bush and the Republicans, now what? They have to rein it in a little, shift in a new direction. Get something done is the phrase you’re looking for I think. “They” being all the politicians, D’s and R’s, right? Yeah, we’ve put them all in the same boat now, let’s see something get done. They’ll come up with a way to exit with a little pride, and it’ll be wrap by 08. Then, and then….. comes Hillary! That’s her one and only goal, her burning desire. And don’t ever underestimate a single minded burning hot – Desire. You think she can win? I think she’s picking out her cabinet this weekend is what I think. Maybe Bill will be Secretary of State or something? At least he wouldn’t be a yes man like Condi is. Yes woman. Yeah, she’d be a yes woman. You could still call her a yes man. Yeah you could. I seen John Lennon in person. At a concert? Yeah. He made the hair on the back of my neck literally stand up. He was incredible, nobody I ever seen, ever done what he done to me that night. To really appreciate him, his music, his voice, you had to see him in person. I wasn’t anticipating him blowing me away like that. I’ll never forget it. I know what you mean. Santana did it to me, and many years earlier, the Beach Boys did the same thing to me on a California beach. I know seeing someone “live” intensifies everything and seems better, but man, I don’t know. I seen the Eagles a few years ago, and they were good, and I enjoyed it, but not like Santana in Germany while we passed the hash pipes around. Our whole music scene blows me away when I think about it. When was the last time you got really relaxed and listened to the AWB? I did it just a few minutes ago. Man! Yeah man, a great band. I haven’t been “really relaxed” in years, raising the kids and all that. Time just oozes by; I just try and hold on. Yeah those child-rearing days can be looonnnnng, and before you know it they’re getting married and having kids. Can you believe Thanksgiving is nigh, and Christmas just a few weeks away? Yes, I'll need to shoot a turkey soon. Thanksgiving 2006 style? Yeah, but on second thought, I think I'll buy one at Wal-Mart. We got a lot to be thankful for. Hey! Have you found time yet? No, but I’m still looking. I tell you what, you find time and then I’ll catch it a bottle and we’ll hold it for ransom money. We could be rich! No, I doubt it, cuz if’n we found it and if’n we caught it – nobody would want to pay the ransom to get it back. Yeah, I guess you’re right; another great idea down the hatch, eh? There’s a new book out about the future. Many thousands of years in the future. Dogs rule the earth. Anyhow, these two dogs, which are the main characters in the book, are discussing what happened to the human race. Really? What did happen to them? Well according to the storyline, they messed around somewhere along the line and eliminated themselves from the earth. Dogs eventually evolved to intelligence and although few (dogs) could remember exactly the circumstances for the human disappearance (from earth), it was the general consensus that humans went down the wrong trail following the gene tract mixed in with cloning. Hmmm… that’s interesting. So… what happened? In the book that is. Don’t know yet, haven’t finished it, but I’ll let you both know as soon as I do. So… what’s up with you today? Going to the city? Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. Want me to pick you up some good cigars? No, I’ve quit smoking those damn things. Ah, that’s good. So… are you back on Blogstream? Well I don’t know about being back and all, but I do think that whenever I feel like posting something, I will. You know what I mean? No, but then again I doubt if you do either? Right you are ol chap, but you know our’s is the “feel good” generation. Yeah, and we’ve really done a good job feeling good haven’t we? Hey man, I’ve located time. It was here all the time we’ve been talking. No kidding. What does it look like? Well the best way I can describe it – is that it appears to resemble a stream of water, and the water is in constant movement. So… which way does it flow? Oh it goes both ways, sort of like my cousin Shiela. Yeah, I know. So, would you say time is like a stream then? Yeah, a never ending stream that just keeps on flowing. So, what do we call it? TimeStream would be appropriate I would think. Sounds really neat. Kinda like BlogStream, eh? Yeah, sort of. Maybe they are kissing cousins? Like cousin Shiela? Yeah, sort of. Ok, now all we have to do is figure out how to catch it. Right you are. Oops, we’re here. Where? End of story.

p.s. Happy Birthday Daze!