“… immortality that we had when we were kitties,
it’s all a Shakespearean myth, and now you are
shipwrecked on this island, and the tempest rages
on. And being part of the myth is not enough, you
feel. Be cheerful, girl. Here is to archetypal light!
Rari nantes in gurgite vasto. Let us eat, let us
mourn. Let us remember. And then let us forget. This
is a story of loss. We at the bar, with philosophy and”
“banter. You had visions of the utmost intensity?
What have you actually witnessed? The gods of the
strangers have still an unexhausted mana? There,
on the farthest nebulae, we surely went the way
of the waters, and we partecipated mystically? So?
Was that you and me, when we confronted our ugly
egoes in the deep dark mirrors of the space ocean?
Was that confrontation our first test of courage?”
“But did we cut the Gordian knot instead of untying
it?” Ariadne sighs. She says: “The stars have fallen
from heaven. I remember every moment of my revelation.”
Chubby laughs, and gently taps her head with her paw.
“But dear half-human, half-goddess… not every woman
is a fisherwoman! The old woman and the sea was not
just a story…! But for every fisherwoman, we have
a sea, and a sea full of sharks, and other creatures. And”
“those humans, those other creatures in the fisherwoman’s
net. Nixies, sirens. I see those coming to meet Desert
Storm and Tierra Madre. Yes, your beloved cadets. They
are now at sea, lost in the ocean space, while we sit here,
debating the psychology of the trickster. That Tonal Dump
wants to take over the multi-verse! That orange-headed
piper that forced crowds into submission, using self-harm
as a kind of erotic charm. You see. Darkness has a headstart.”
“But we are on the side of light. We are pneumaticas! Ho!
Everything the anima touches becomes numinous. And so
for the nasty lamia that is Tonal Dump. We are undergoing
the archetype of transformation, and so our colleagues at sea.
The process of writing is syncronistic phenomena, we
and John C and the Spartan are on the same journey. We
are stuck in a dimension of duality. Matter or wave,
psichization of matter. These things are really confusing!”
“Gravitational waves, my foot! It’s enough for us to have
scientists like John C who are trying to digitalize the
soul… to study the oscillatory patterns of epigenetics.
Must we fourier-transform our purpose, too? Just relax,
my friend. Ariadne. Look at the cosmic tree, rooted in
the multi-verse. Isn’t it gorge-ous? Yggdrasill holds the
key to our origins: Chubby-Bastet, and Ariadne of Knossos.
There is evidence of soul in plants, in microchips… and I”
“see beauty in the representation of waves, in the variation
of patterns. What was the stimulus? What was the story?
Which psychic phenomenon? Should we measure the mana of cells?
Or should we just write about the emanations of Bacchus?
Drink! My friend. Time is our Allah-y. We shall see more, we
shall discover more. Let go of your immortality! It was never
real. Let us live, and let us love, my lesbia. And all the
gossips of old men… let us value these, for what they are.”