bingo gazingo, love and all that matters

tiny specks of bingo gazingo zinged past me in the dream i had.

he was headed at a molecularly brilliant speed toward the eighth electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension, i’m almost sure of it.
i’m not well-versed enough, landmark-wise, to say positively, between the speed you travel out there and the fact this WAS a dream, but i’m figuring that might as well have been the destination.
i was zooming around the universe in a ford granada that was white with a powder-blue vinyl top. i remember driving one of these in the early 1980′s.
it was a girl-friend’s girlfriend’s car. i think her name was andrea.
i wonder what became of her?
in this dream, i had trouble starting the granada and had to get out of the car and open the hood to see what the problem was.
in dreams, you can walk anywhere, even in the middle of the universe.
it looked like the alternator belt was frayed.
apparently, diagnosing the problem was good enough because i closed the hood, walked in the universe, got back in the car and it started up. dreams work mechanically so well, sometimes. i may have had this dream because i knew that bingo died but just found out he was struck by an automobile.
what a way to go. believe me, i know.
i say that because its unfortunateness (it might be a word), may be considered a better send-off than the dark loneliness in a home for the aged and forgotten.

he was almost ninety years old and was on his way to perform at the bowery poetry club, i was told.
i didn’t equate his misfortune and my driving.
in this dream i knew enough to say out loud, “i don’t think doctor thomas matthew could help this guy.” that was the guy who performed surgery on me when i was struck by a car in 1962. i was eight.
besides, he was streaking by at the speed of light.
he was going to “be”.
to still “be” is big in a world that insists on making so many of us into ghosts that smell of pee and vitamins.
i bring this up because we were blessed with his presence just a few weeks earlier at our goodbye blue monday holiday extravaganza put together by our friend julie of our coffeehouse “family.” the coffeehouse is as gone as bingo, by the way.

after his set on our stage, he had a car service waiting out front. before he left, however, i would purchase his CD and not the “record company” one, but one of his own.

you can tell, because it looks like this;

and this is the song list side….brilliant;

in my dream, i think he waved as he passed; a toothless, joyful grin, not unlike the photo that began this scrawl.
there’s a slo-mo button somewhere in my brain that allows me to see things in such detail, or maybe i just sped up to match his speed. who knows?
i learned that this is possible from countless viewings of “the wizard of oz”

in the pic above, dorothy’s house and the “soon-to-be-wicked witch of the east” synched in time and space at an extraordinary centrifugal speed.
it looks as though they’re standing still.
aren’t kansas tornadoes amazing?
if i knew where i was going with this, i might segue’ using “but i digress,” but i stand in a fallow field of ideas, either unable or not needing to go back from where i came. maybe i need to stay in the land of oz a while longer. maybe i need to try to explain the dichotomy of writing and traveling the youtube links concerning that film and the soundtrack and other visual stimuli provided by TCM’s screening of “2001, a space odyssey”….
maybe, all i needed was for keir dullea, after traveling through the monolith and landing in that “room,” to end up wearing those ruby slippers, clicking them three times and turning into the “starchild,” a morphed ziggy stardust-character playing riffs from pink floyd’s “interstellar overdrive”….(kubrick apparently wanted pink floyd to do some of the music for 2001. ok. i’ll buy that. whatever…..)
i’m wondering if my dearest friend is wandering in a dreamscape, somewhere between here and there. at the moment, she’s in a coma. but that’s another story entirely.
“there” is as extraordinary a place as “here,” and if you don’t think “here” is amazing, then “there’s” not going to make a difference to you, anyway.

as i walk places, most of the familiar, day-to-day parts of my “normal life,” i’m struck by musical chords of my relationship with this friend that has been confined to two solitary planes; two separate stages.
two planets, as it were.
i recall a conversation with her much in the way someone would recall a date, movie, meal — a moment — two people were together. i don’t dwell here too often, because to explain the machinery of this relationship might require backgrounds to backgrounds and explanations requiring explanations.

i’ve become so enmeshed in her life that i want to believe it matters. someone i’ve known for years but haven’t met and everytime we try to meet, we don’t. imagine that. this is something i’ve come to believe; there’s a fabric woven by our existence that clings to certain others, sometimes by fortune, sometimes by forces around us and other times by all and any sorts of luck or math.
i’ve mentioned this before and it’s become necessary for me to say it again, particularly because of this friend and how much she’s come to “matter,” in every sense of the word.
matter is the smallest and biggest word in the universe.
all that matters is everything and everything we think matters might not be anything at all.

in the pic above the description was “dark matter”
to this i say, “yeah, until you get up close.”

i ventured, of course, to where everything matters to me, maxx the dog and buddy the cat and (between you and me), my dearest friend.

i’ve called out to her on a deserted beach and once got a “loud and clear” text reply from her after she went swimming in the eternity pool for a few days. that’s another word for coma.
at times, i’ve felt my own “matter” separate after extended moments of my own vocal howlings to the big studio, located on deck two of the grand casino.
this day, instead of wailing like a banshee out over the ocean, i held conference with “an intimate audience.”

….and began to speak quietly.
someone told me that we only need a “good place” to “put it out there,” and that’s what i did, all the while the ocean lapped and hished quietly, ten feet away.

i asked for loads of things — patience, acceptance and a moment together with my friend in a reverie or nap. nothing grand.
after a few minutes i rose and walked away, heading from the beach to the dunes and beyond.

the words “a nod’s as good as a wink,” popped into my head. they were quickly followed by, “to a blind horse.”

i recalled being somewhere in teenland when this “faces” album came out with that title. i may have just graduated high school. i didn’t have any idea why this came to mind.
four wheels going in different directions is how i roll, sometimes.

for a second i asked myself where the time went. it’s an obligated musing for anyone over fifty.
i am over fifty.
i don’t think i cared, which is not to say i don’t.
“reverie” has its moments, but this wasn’t one of them. if i were to use reverie this day (and i would), i would wander in the world of what-if and cloud myself with notions of sitting in the exact same space at the exact same time as my dearest friend, even for a moment…
and for that moment, i’ll think “that’s all that matters,” and begin a circular story with myself concerning moments, the universe and “all that matters” between two people who have spent almost a year trying to connect.

the sky would darken dramatically, making me feel cold all the more…i don’t know why i equated this with hope, but i did……

and i would wish……i could wander off in a “reverie”… and that, for a moment or two, we would be “the couple” in the snow in the forefront of the picture below…

…and we would marvel at the mad joy maxx has in this element and we’d look at each other and say something like, “this is fucking marvelous, this moment, right now, ya know?”

we are both prone to high rates of expletives.
i could imagine either of us saying this.
it would be one of my happiest moments on earth, ever.

there are solitary reveries i experience here, where “matter” waited, half a century ago. this was a nuclear missile site, once upon a time.

like the circle and the square in the photo above, we may be destined to be where we are until we are everywhere and then it will matter no more, or matter all the more.
more or less, not that it matters.

ferocious happiness