I once read that among the predictions made by Myrddin Wyllt – the madman and prophet that Merlin, the great wizard of Arthurian legend, is based on – was that one day a man standing on one shore would instantly speak to a man standing on another through a “talking stone”. As if seeing someone yapping on their cell phone or chiseling glyphs into it with their thumbs wasn’t already enough to make me think he might have been onto something, I also like to note that stone is the basis of our modern technology – quartz in particular – and is used in the silicon chips that run cell phones and computers. It makes it easier for me to go along with this kind of craziness, the kind that inspires my work.
Anyway… with this in mind, and as a nod to my own recent dream about a white stone with unbelievable consciousness implications, I just got a white iPhone and finally jacked myself into the mobile world. Uh-oh, here we go…
Yesterday I got a rusty, old, busted up Flipper lunchbox! I’m going to use it for art supplies.
There are few trivial things from my childhood that I hold on to, but Flipper, of all things, is one of them. I love that show! A couple years ago the first season came out on DVD, and I got nostalgic about it, but there was something about the acoustics of my grandmother’s living room and the crappy mono speaker of her TV that can’t be matched.
I might have left Flipper as just a small part my past if it wasn’t for a couple years ago when I came upon a TV Guide article from June of 1965 featuring Ivan Tors, the producer of the show. I was at first surprised to see it allude to his interest in human consciousness and mention him experimenting with LSD. I’ve scanned this snippet from it. I later learned that he also worked alongside John C. Lilly, who pioneered much research in the realm human consciousness and invented the isolation tank which he used in conjunction with LSD to communicate with dolphins. (Fucking 60’s, huh?) Lilly is credited as “scientific adviser” on the 1963 Flipper movie, because of this incident.
So, sure the show is loaded with camp and cheese, but as an adult it’s just cool to know that it was born of deeper ideas of consciousness expansion and inter-species communication. It’s also nice to now watch Bud share an in-depth conversation with Flipper – effortlessly understanding his every squeak, whistle and splash – and not worry so much for his sanity.
As the TV Guide article continues… Francis the Talking Mule was a gimmick – mules can’t talk and never will. Flipper, an animal which responds to man, is a fact. Ivan can jack up a fact and slip 39 episodes of a series under it.
Last night I dreamed of a nanocomputer of sorts. I don’t know, it wasn’t a gadget, though. It was just this white, processor chip thingy that looked like a pebble. It was developed in a large warehouse-like lab with what seemed like way too many massive pipes, cables and gauges than was needed to produce such a small, natural looking item. The inventor had vanished after finishing it and it was finally decided that, rather than have someone else attempt to activate it and risk wrecking it, it would be stored in a cryogenic-like tank until his return. A handful of men in lab coats were discussing this and placing it inside the tank as I entered the dream.
Suddenly the whole warehouse began to rumble, heat up quickly and even glow. The facility had unexpectedly malfunctioned and was clearly going to blow. One of the men, afraid that the mix of extreme heat and extreme cold would rupture the tank, threw it to the floor and kicked it out the open, hangar-like door in front of us. It rolled to the yard, but burst a hole in the side that released pressure and sent it about twenty feet into the air, where it just hovered, spinning out of control, endlessly showering liquid nitrogen in all directions. What to do; burn in the inferno of the warehouse or risk the deadly freezing rain outside?
I ran outside, hoping to at least catch a last glimpse at this mysterious invention. And I got that wish, because as soon as I stepped into the yard the tank exploded and it was left gently floating in the center of the remnants. When this was happening time sort of stood still. The immediate dangers around us subsided and their was an air of tranquility as the pebble shone forth a blueish beam of light that painted a massive ivory stone into existence and chiseled it into a pyramid with laser-precise attention to the detail of every brick. It was awe-inspiring and it filled the entire property.
With the concept of time blurred completely as this happened, I watched with a sense that, across the world, this thing had already been replicated and that pyramids, temples and other monumental structures and feats of gorgeous architecture were being effortlessly erected throughout. Naturally, it was hailed as the greatest human achievement ever, as many believed it was. Few understood that it wasn’t man alone who had created this, but a higher being who had manifested the wonders of their world, through us, unto us.
For a couple months now I’ve tried, although not very diligently I must confess, to plan a bonfire in November with specific intention. Myself and a handful of friends are on board and we have the wood pallets… but a location still eludes us and now that it’s November, I’m starting to realize I really don’t want to see the idea itself go up in smoke.
The point of this bonfire is to purge ourselves of some things that we might imagine have intrinsic value, but in reality only weigh us down or bind us to the past or an empty ideal. Having a drink around a warm fire with friends is awesome in itself, but this would be a little dose of liberation and an opportunity to grow as well as share and get closer to one another, too. I plan to throw a few old, drama-ridden letters into flames, but not before reading them aloud. There are some photos from before the age of digital cameras, too, that myself and some friends would rather not risk having end up online. I’ll pass those around for a final glance before tossing them in. Some may just have a few items of clothes to fuel the fire that they should have let go of long ago. I know a guy who wears socks long after his bare heels and toes are worn clean through them. He really needs to burn those damn things and stop the madness already. Each person’s level of involvement is up to them as long as the spirit’s there; a spirit which resonates in this scene from Six Feet Under…
We fully intend to rake up, collect the remnants and clean the area afterward and it seems bonfires are perfectly legal here outside of city limits… so we just need a perfectly legal property to do it on. Any suggestions?
I sped through the merge, racing to give the Moon a place to rest by the time the Sun went down… and I cut off the wrong person in doing so. Within seconds I was dizzied by spinning lights and had to pull over to gather my wits. He followed and stormed out of his vessel, looked me dead in the eye and bellowed, “What a stupid goddamn move that was!” With a justifiably angry authority he lectured me thoroughly and demanded to know me personally so he could write about me too. I complied by using a sheet of plastic from another land – that was “as good as dog shit” as far as he was concerned – to paint his face an even angrier shade of red. It was going to be a very bad day for me. I fumbled to justify my actions, but he had no time for it. “Quit pulling my pisser!”, he interrupted. I was fucked. He knew it and I knew it.
Then, all of a sudden, the tides turned within him. Maybe it was because of my pure intention in the name of the Moon, of whom the tides are her domain. Whatever it was, his frustration faded to a chuckle. I was confused. He shrugged and advised me to take care of my faults as he opened the hatch to board his vessel again. I cocked my head back in disbelief and with a heart awash with gratitude I asked his name.
Yesterday I got a rusty, old, busted up Flipper lunchbox! I’m going to use it for art supplies.
Last night I dreamed of a nanocomputer of sorts. I don’t know, it wasn’t a gadget, though. It was just this white, processor chip thingy that looked like a pebble. It was developed in a large warehouse-like lab with what seemed like way too many massive pipes, cables and gauges than was needed to produce such a small, natural looking item. The inventor had vanished after finishing it and it was finally decided that, rather than have someone else attempt to activate it and risk wrecking it, it would be stored in a cryogenic-like tank until his return. A handful of men in lab coats were discussing this and placing it inside the tank as I entered the dream. 
I sped through the merge, racing to give the Moon a place to rest by the time the Sun went down… and I cut off the wrong person in doing so. Within seconds I was dizzied by spinning lights and had to pull over to gather my wits. He followed and stormed out of his vessel, looked me dead in the eye and bellowed, “What a stupid goddamn move that was!” With a justifiably angry authority he lectured me thoroughly and demanded to know me personally so he could write about me too. I complied by using a sheet of plastic from another land – that was “as good as dog shit” as far as he was concerned – to paint his face an even angrier shade of red. It was going to be a very bad day for me. I fumbled to justify my actions, but he had no time for it. “Quit pulling my pisser!”, he interrupted. I was fucked. He knew it and I knew it.
