Saturday, February 11, 2012

I do not know

You wonder about the photograph. So do I, and I am guilty of posting it. The illustration (as opposed to photograph) is meant for the book, "Marbles of Pearl," published by a friend of mine from days of old. The other elements are stage props. You know me (sort of). I have a tendency to mix this and that with confusion and teasing. If you wish to know more about the book, read on and on and on. And, try the music. Unless you are a Deep Purple aficionado, you probably are unfamiliar with "April." I think you might be pleasantly surprised. And, after all, what is life if not one surprise after another and another and another? Dare you ....

Maybe, there is no reason

(Note: A few weeks ago, I was asked why I choose to be alone -- to live without a companion. My initial response was the words which are printed here. It is not a complete answer, because I am not sure there can be a definitive answer. I do keep thinking about an answer, and I have a few more thoughts which will emerge at some point in the future. A short response might have been: Why does anyone do anything? The lyrics from, "A Whiter Shade of Pale," keep echoing in my mind. There is no reason.)

I do not know if I am missing something within me which most people have, or if I have something extra within me which most people do not have.

I do know Robert Louis Stevenson was absolutely right when he wrote, "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." The battle between good and evil rages on in all men and, probably, in all women, too. To have been Jesus Christ, I think, was very easy. Most of us wish we could cure heartaches and illness and poverty. Some of us (maybe, even many of us), would die to accomplish it.

To die for a reason, for a cause, I think is not too difficult. Too live without a reason or a cause is what truly is difficult. At least, it is to me.

I have said in posts and to individuals that for the past few years I have had no hopes, no dreams, no goals. Why this is, I am not certain. I also have said in posts and to individuals that by the time I was twenty-five I had experienced everything a person can experience in one form or another. Since then, life has been repetition and variation.

I know there is nothing left to experience here in this life except death, and I have a great curiosity about it. Possibly, I have yet to experience great and true love. There are women I would have died to protect or to save, but that is simply the way I am and never because I thought any of them would mourn me longer than a year or two later.

I want a companion who is unique and unlike all others because she needs nothing or no one, but is willing to share her heart and her soul because it is her intellectual choice, her decision to do so.

I want a companion who has control over physical fear and will watch my back, just as I watch her back. To me, that is equality.

These things I have said in posts and to individuals, and my mind is beginning to wander. The last line here is that I search, and I hope I will know what I search for when I find it.

Now, about the book in the photograph

No, I did not write this book -- "Marbles of Pearl." It was published in 2010 by a friend. I did not learn of its existence until the last weeks of 2011. It is a book of poetry.

If the name of the author sounds familiar, it probably should. Bruce Wayne. Think for a moment. If you do not get it, think about it again tomorrow.

Of course, it is not the author's actual name. It is a pen name, a pseudonym. As a side note, there are clues to my identity within this book, although that certainly is not of relevance.

The reason I just learned of the book is because I am a traveler. I have lived in many times in my mind, and in many places in reality. I move. I roam. I follow the rivers. I leave friends of the hour behind and find new ones. Sometimes, one from the past tracks me down and we communicate -- for a while, at least. This was the case of Bruce Wayne. We worked together once upon a time. He found me because he wanted me to read his poetry. This guy is almost as strange as I am in terms of living life beyond conventional patterns.

Anyway .... find a copy of "Marbles of Pearl" if you are able and curious (I hope you are always curious), read it, measure the dedications of the poems against your own knowledge and the quality of the poetry against the songs your own mind sings. You might have a revelation. You might discover if you are a lemming or a wolf.



6 comments:

Anita said...

Wow..what a post.you scare me.some sentence like life has nothing more to offer..and death seems interesting.have you forgotten life us a gift to you?use it.
I love the pistol.safety.rings.money.book is for rekaxing.does the writer tell about you?i shall find the book.
Many loves you have had fram.still you r missing.read heimskringla.much wisdom.did you have a nice valentine day.i send you alot of love.i like you.take care.see soon.Anita.

Anita said...

Wow..what a post.you scare me.some sentence like life has nothing more to offer..and death seems interesting.have you forgotten life us a gift to you?use it.
I love the pistol.safety.rings.money.book is for rekaxing.does the writer tell about you?i shall find the book.
Many loves you have had fram.still you r missing.read heimskringla.much wisdom.did you have a nice valentine day.i send you alot of love.i like you.take care.see soon.Anita.

Anita said...

Two times..he he..there is atroll in your blog..wow..
That Ronson lighter...awsome..

Fram Actual said...

I cannot help it that I am curious, Anita. I always want to know what is around the next bend in the river or on the other side of the mountain. I am not rushing toward death, but it is like any other adventure in the sense that I wish to know what -- if anything -- might be on the other side of that door. So, do not worry about me. I simply am saying I am curious about it.

A few other responses: I love the pistol very much. It is forty-nine years old and like new. It might well never have been fired. These are no longer made, either, so it is a treasure in many ways.

As for the book, my name is among the words there, but not really any other information, unless one might read meaning into the poem it is associated with there.

Yes, the "Heimskringla" is among my favorite literary works, and I think "Old Snorri" was a great man in many ways.

But, no, Valentine's Day is not a day I pay attention to unless I am more-or-less forced to do so. I think it is an artificial holiday designed mainly to make money for merchants.

Yes, the Ronson lighter. You are very observant. Marines carry Zippos; gentlemen carry Ronsons. Two lives, two worlds, two existences. Symbolism is everything.

So, thank you, Anita. It is a pleasure to know you and to have you visit me.

Anita said...

i have googled the book..but there are no tellings about it..only chapthers wich seems interesting...the Thors Hammer and so on..if you have read the book..can you please tell me something about the poems??before i buy it i mean,

ok..i did know the ronson because my father had the same..

i am sure you mean something by that photo.all those things you like.

about love.again.i think this sentence is good.i can not get it out of my mind..a man does not love a million woman.he loves one woman a million times.soo great i think..i mean are there still men out there that thinks like that???
well thanx for kind words fram.i am at work.but i have got free in the weekend.
dont you like to travel no more??i should like to go to Island and up north.i will one day.

ok see you wolfie!!))

Fram Actual said...

I have not read all the poetry in the book, Anita. I try to read a poem or two a day and then think about them. And, since the writer of the poems is an old friend, I cannot offer an objective opinion about them. You must make up your own mind.

Every item in the photograph is relatively old except the watch. It was new last February/March -- my birthday present to myself. The pistol, again, is forty nine years old. The ring in front of the watch dates from the early 1950s, was originally purchased in Boston and obtained by me from an estate sale at the so-called "Gold Coast" just north of New York City. One of the other rings has family history and the other items were obtained because, yes, I like them, and because they "told me" to buy them. Maybe, you understand that, maybe, you do not. Anyway ....

As for your sentence about love, some boys grow up to become men, some boys never grow up. That is the difference.

I came close to returning to Europe around Christmas and New Year's Day, but plans do not always work out. Right now, I am not certain what will happen next. I have a tendency to think and think and think, then suddenly to fall off the fence and commit to doing my last thought.

So, right now I am getting ready to put up another post ....

Something special ....