Being of Two Minds, let Me start again.
His agents, removed from his betrayal so unknown to him except as urges and nudges were to be trusted to a point. They made him eat and let him sleep, kept in check they keep him checking over both shoulders and straight ahead.
Sometimes Herman had to hear what he had to say to know what he thought, most of the time he heard himself talking without much thinking at all.
Picture Herman nearly leaning into tipping listening. In the quiet comes a rush.
Me myself and I, the father the son and the holy ghost. Shivers his timbers, he's four years old.
Every place can be any place for something to happen. On a page say, in your head in your ear under your skin or deep within something can happen and it always does. Or way over your head, high up above straddling the shoulders between the wings of a dove you look way down below for the ones that you love.
See Herman standing there waving, maybe ten.
Pick me pick me! Herman wanted to play bad. He liked being the Indian he liked Indians. He liked being the Nazi once in awhile and rolling down the slopes he found and ten or twelve times dying. Chattering his teeth in a cow teat grip on his heavy machine gun. One time when he bit his tongue he cried it hurt. Then he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes after tasting his own blood. It was getting dark anyway so Herman went home still crying.
His sister had to see him coming in as she was going out. She didn't say a word. His dad was passed out on the lazy boy. His mother pre-occupied. But the cat cried and caught his eye. And Herman told her he bit hith tongue, then both went back outside. Into the dark. He'd be in bed and fast asleep before nine but he'd made it to midnight before, last New Year's Eve mostly, maybe the one before.
To the park or the pit. Red Rock or the beach or the Point, in the summer maybe a dip under the moonlight, the winter the hill and a slide. Herman liked the darkness he liked to go bump in the night.
We are supposed to reassure ourselves. If no harm done to self or others carry on. Life is distracting, it comes suddenly then gradually upon us. Complexity upon complexity preprogrammed and ignored. And the stories we tell ourselves become specific to the moment subject to the trend. Gravity keeps Time in His pocket, the descent will end once and for all, until then there is only the fall.
Forever is a place beyond time. Time a place we come to become. Non corporeal consciousness we of the common dream and curse our temperament but bless the scheme. Body is mind moving objects body is never mind just move. We got here by singing songs and blending our tears with the rain and on Sunny days, eyes shut, chin up, deep breath, we smile. Enter the adventure sober, life can conscious be magic.
Herman thought this late in life after shooing away the magic adventure, he kept himself chemically suppressed, early as safe every day he could. Still seemed viable practical and preferable and in this way Herman damned the torpedoes, full speed ahead. About anything and everything Herman thought, he could be totally wrong.
He said, "I could be totally wrong about that though, just saying."
Sapiens ponder and wonder, a tiny sound catches an ear. A photon a photo receptor. Everyone gathers to listen and stare. Then into the din and under the glare what muddles the puddle we babble about. Right now it's not quiet we hear someone shout.
There is reprieve in work. Work is reward. Do the dishes. Sweep the floor. Make the bed. Look for more to keep you fed. And then dear one amuse Me. Involved as you are between Me and the Muse and Me and Shadow consider the role of Me between your Self and I. I can but remind you.
Chapter 2.
Bi-Polar-oid. Bye Polar Bear.
