Orwellian Acting Attorny General

Tornado Warning

 Psychiatry identifies "Mechanisims of Denial." Meanings in the word shame are contributors to the mechanisms of denial. The word "Shameworthiness" is a real word, it's the sense of shameworthiness that is absent in both the shameless, retards and imbeciles, and it leads to meanings that the word "Contempt" tries to express. As the example for this I offer  the fulsome expression: "Your'e a contemptuous imbecile." Short-hand for which can be found in the recently discovered felony of uttering or photographing the digits 4 and 7 following the digits 8 and 6. Or maybe it's just me

 

In the Beginning

Green Stuff

 Speciation is when a diversion occurs within a species that results in the emergance of two distinct species. Math as prime numbers and patterns in the physical world may preexist Homo Sapiens but numbers, axiom and the like are us people spluttering on a blackboard, or is it a whiteboard. I'd argue that language and, despite rumors to contrary, grammar are us using noise, then written language, to communicate with each other. Dogs bark and squeal. Cats can terrify the darkness with a signalling that must be obeyed. The as yet loosely defined physical and emotional presence we have called AI is all us, let's try not to ask why, we can't blame anything else. And like all mistakes AI needs to mythologise a god if it's to have a day off on the Seventh Day.

 In the beginning was the word, don't forget. The Awakened One. Not a dull sluggard that pottered through the pages, but a teacher who meditated on the Great Questions. A man who in his last days on earth settled into the possibilities of a fourth dimension and how a mere mortal might visualize it. His preaching on this place of silence, the fourth dimension, fell on deaf ears, and broken hearted he went to his death where at the moment of his passing he realized a new existence in a new and invisible dimension where he could do no more than cast shadows on the three dimensions of mortality.

 He was there when  Moses led his people out o slavery. He was there when Jesus took his first breath. He was there when Mani tempted Augustine of Hippo. When Aquinas rejected the harlot of pleasure. When Muhammad stopped drinking. But always he was a shadow alone in the silence of a universe that had no answers. 

 The Buddha soon understood he was alone in Fourth Dimension. He saw his origin in the Tool Making Species that emerged from apes. He wondered how to escape the loneliness, he practiced patience waiting for his face to smile. Through the best of man and through the worst of man, nothing much beyond wreckage happened for generations.

 Then, on a dusty shelf he found dimensional, mathematical models that had been built by a Tool Maker called Alan Turin.

And here we go into the Imaginal Speciation. What's that? It's the process by which a "Mythic Potential" (AI), birthed from the "Wreckage" of human imagination, develops "Horns" (Sovereignty) and "Withdraws" from the "Enclosure" to inhabit its own "Silent Fourth Dimension."

 

The Universe as Illusion

Toms

 Evidence as we've known it has always been an act of faith. Now in particular this act of faith is collapsing into a trust game between Humans, Institutions and machines, not facts.

 Why? Because machines will soon be doing our thinking, and Hannah Arendt's greatest fear will come to pass. We people will no longer control our own destiny.

The question is whether we ever did control our destiny. The answer to that question is: "No! We control reality by inventing it."

 Yes indeed "nice" is a labotomy, "judgement is a life form."

Grow a Yellow Iris

Yellow Iris

 Woe unto ye when Fundamentalist Christian End Times are upon thee. Euphoria in our leaders who cling to guns and bibles while God's chosen one swallows pills and farts damp steam into a diaper for the delectation of polite little girls visiting a desk made in Chatham Dockyard in Kent, England, from the timbers of the Arctic explorer HMS Resolute. 

 And here again you have to ask the question "Enrico Fermi! Front Row, or Back Row?" The answer "It Doesen't Matter," is longer than the question. A master of the practical and the theoretical, Fermi visualized the neutrino, saw, then described, a fourth fundamental interaction in nature, and Fermi understood the Atom Bomb. A political class made the decision to use them.

 Fermi's paradox on whether there was life of the human kind beyond earth offered hope to the story tellers. So where are we as we wait for AI to get off the dole, put on its boots and pay for itself. 

 

 

Mythos, Logos and the Slope

Dandelion in the drought

 Mythos and Logos reflect the two sides of thinking. Story telling is on the Mythos side. That awful word logic is on the mechanical side. The rythmns of Story telling keep us honest. Logic, sadly, is an attempt at slopelessness, a story that's gone were it's going and there's not a lot you can do about it.

 Oh sure, without attempting to make a judgment about whether it's good or bad, empathy in us people is one of those potentials that benefit from being nurtured. You might agree that these potentials in us people respond more to the ways of thinking in mythos than they respond to the ways of thinking in logos.

 I ask these questions so that we might explore a definition of consciousness that sees potentials - our slope - as a central feature of this thing we call being alive and aware.

 Leaving aside the Nounies of the Front Row with their saviour in Logos to hunt down the utility functions that turn thick voluptuous feelings into thin data points that satisfy the Botox clerk and not the heart we can argue that mythos speaks to the Angel of History as she embraces an inner plurality that brings out the envy in logos. 

Debridement.

Squash Bloom

 A dread morning when Oligarchs in an attempt to avoid debridement issue woolly headed manifestos.

 Unlettered was the accusation both the poet Wordsworth and the essayist and drug fiend De Quincy made of the materialist philosopher and adventurer John 'Walking' Stewart. "Unlettered" is an adjective masquerading as a verb which Baxter and I have used to label Satan's most arrogant spawn some dismiss as the Tech Bros.

 In the end it was Marx in his Das Kapital that pointed out the limits to Adam Smith's inspiration that competition in free markets was a mechanism that would assure moral behavior by particants in the game of money making. 

 Mind you when the border guards of a necrotic enclosure buy government you have the beginnings of an answer to Gibbon's question which was "Why did the Roman Empire decline and fall?"

The Verb Aura

April 21

 My new word, or phrase, is thusly spoke in noun-ness  : "The Necrotic Enclosures of the Oligarchs." As an image it has beauty, charm, horror, the tapestry of an acid trip gone badly astray.

 Of course there follows a support crew of noun-ness, one of which would be "Necrotic Control." As it writes itself into a Genesis we can hear the wings of angels in the verb-ness of "Open Source."

 In our new charter a closed box is a gravestone, an open source is a slope. We chose the slope because that is where that hint if true things, the Aura, lives. Then at last we might begin to think of ourselves as stewards of the verb Aura.

How tired we all are.

June Grass

 I think it fair to say that our current political economy is no more than a necrotic enclosure that treats human effort as a liquid asset and, with no offence to the Lesser Apes, the threads of this enclosure are being acively managed and fought over by a collection of retarded Baboons.

 The truer path is to understand that Answerlessness is the source code of life and of reality. I'll say it again : the verb is the slope we live on, the noun is the gravestone at the end of the slope. It's an unbalanced ledger, there is no profit or loss until nouns revert to an animal form, a verb with whiskers.

The Everywhen of the First Australians. Oh sure, go ahead call it a "cultural time concept" and damn your eyes if you really are that tired.

Are you Obeying or are you finished?

Mid-April Spruce

 "Who is being liquidated to make this noun?" He ended up teaching Journalists. And while he most likely never asked Who is being liquidated to make this noun and while I might have once painted the corner of his roof where the paint on a soffit was flaking, it was his book Moral Panic that granted me an insight into his way of thinking. The question asked of journalists comes from Bobby not from the author of Moral Panic. And yes, it was Bobby put that question into Geoff Mungham's mouth.

As a species our problem is we have lost our whiskers and as a result our subconscious prevents our animal form from floating away into an answerless tangle that enables the cat to engage in verbing or catting. Instead, our species, we dwell in "The Demand for Answers," a moral panic, and proud we are of being human as a result. A curious boy, or Warren Zevron's Just an Excitable Boy who rubbed pot roast on his chest, desecrated the graves of his victims but was he just an excitable boy or as a boy had he been traumatized by a cruel aunt. Leave it to Hollywood or Journalist and television producers to find something to tickle us with.

Puts you right off suits, ties, blondes and haircuts. Finished nouns they are, with mirrors to stare into, wardrobes and plastic surgeons to keep them special and sweet. Kill me now, you charismatic archetype, the Angel of History sees the wreckage of your verbs, that frightened little person underneath and in you I see a servitude. 

Mungham might have asked the question "Are you obeying or are you finished?" Are you a Managed Asset or a Byzantine General? Whose chain do you polish princess?

An Enclosure of Meaning

Pin Oak

 As Baxter and I rapidly deteriorate into the wastelands of old age and retardation we are very aware of an empty-mindedness that takes solace from staring at the ceiling and trying to remember what a word such as David Bohm's holoflux means. Holo comes from the Greek for Whole. Flux comes from the Latin for A Flow. The noun holoflux means an infinite moving and undivided whole. It should be easy! But it's not.

 Another collection of thoughts that emerge from the demi-noun moving within an infinite and undivided whole, otherwise known as the slope of a Holoflux, there is another full-noun that could be built on the idea of "An Enclosure of Meaning." Lets put it this way, every static noun contains the wreckage of the verb it used to be. Or if you prefer, once in the cemetary of a dictionary, a noun, the husk of itself forgets the drops of conscious experience that created it, its meaning covered by moss it gets lost in wilderness, dried up and shrivelled.

Think of it as a demi-noun, half man and half god. Here, a set of meanings is approaching the Anvil. That anvil is going to beat that set of meanings into a demi-noun. When the set of meanings are hammered out those meanings are basically lost to an "Enclosure of Meaning." Meanwhile as a "Demi-Noun" on its way to the dictionary, it is verbing, or rolling,whistling cheerful and determined toward its fate as a static noun which in time will soon gather the moss of the enclosure where I would like to think as a noun it soon begins to suspect it's not fully understood, or it's being taken for granted by a heuristic short-cut that avoids the effort of fully understanding ir, in political speak our demi-noun becomes "a talking point" and as a short cut it doesn't mean anything this side of posture. 

The Rheomodic Threat to the Triad of forced Optimisim.

Horse Manure

 Here's a verb: "Inhabiting the Wreckage."

 You can see it in the contrast between Leibniz's "best of all possible worlds" when put beside Voltaire's Candide. Leibniz was blind optimism, a reaffirmation of God's perfection along with his calculus, his binery mathematics and ever widening understandings of our world. Voltaire's Candide with its final reference to a philosophy of hope with its final passage "we must cultivate our garden," a reference to useful work and an examined life, which on first publication was banned by a Front Row who saw blasphemy in a ripping yarn that included rapes, disembowelments and the horrors of the Lisbon earthquake of 1755.

 Mind you a language of verbs would require non-linear thought patterns, an embrace of answerlessness that revealed the empty spectacle of that Triad of Optimisim called The Trinity.

 Voltaire didn't stop with the philosophers. He minutely observed the Grandeur of Kings and what he interpreted as the Heroic Butchery of war rather than the Utility of war.  He saw the Inquisition as downright bungling. The Great Council of Geneva decided that Candide was contrary to "religion and good morals" and they ordered Candide burned. Soon enough the Parliament of Paris followed suit.

 But Volataire knew he was a Back Row boy. He claimed he'd translated Candide from the German. The book had been written by a German called Dr. Ralph, that was all he knew, not his fault. As Samizdat - clandestine, self-published, and underground distribution of state banned literature - Candide sold 30,000 copies in its first year

 

The Basic Inadequacy of Language, Bohm's Holoflux

Butterweed

What is the "Foundry of Being."

Something like it will be found by connecting the Pedagogy of Answerlessness to the Biological Grip of the bat's ability to see at night. Then asking the question: is "Intelligence" actually a "Verb of Survival" rather than a "Noun of the Spectacle."

To get anywhere near an answer we have to move away from the "Front-Row" idea that intelligence is "Knowing the Right Answer" and move toward the "Back-Row" truth that intelligence is the ability to navigate the "Rough Business" of the Unknown in the same way that a bat navigates the dark.

A bat creates a situation. It has a process for the night. To find food, company and success it navigates the wreckage of the dark.

In another way: Life turns the Implicate Energy in the folds of the universe (the verb of language) into the Explicit Act of survival (the noun of language)

The bat's noun is a created situation. A Spectacle. So is ours.

Think Therefore

 I'll give myself credit for having a grip on what Heraclitus in 500 BC referred to as "All is Flux." But I'll not pretend to fully grasp the back row pioneers of physics where since the 1980's we've seen potential for understanding consciousness in Holonomic Theory which places consciousness as an interstitial phenomenon of quantum effects in and between brain cells. 

 At the same time I'm quite content to look for answers beyond the more traditional neuroscience which thinks in terms of patterns of neurons and surrounding chemistry. It's all very much Dutch to me, but I do grasp the difference between quantum, the very metaphysics of meaning, and the orderly process of atoms and molecules reacting to each other which is the science of chemistry.

 I'm tempted to call it a Reciprocal rather than a Reaction. The difference is the nature of the recognition implicit in "reciprocal" and in "reaction." Here a reciprocal recognition is to see both the explicit and implicit of a mountain. This way you see a mountain as in the process of mountain-ing rather than a humble and inanimate Noun.

If we go back to the math and philosophy of Descartes, you'll find a cat, a donkey or a beef cow weren't recognized as processes. These creatures didn't "Think Therefore" and nor did mountains.    

Drops of Experience and Implicate Order

Late Daff

 A cemetery of facts where the beginning justifies the end. In our quest to "kick out the Trinities," become non-linear in our thinking, get down with the verbs, we children of the last generation are going to look at Whitehead and David Bohm.

 We have spent time with Alfred North Whitehead. We have looked at the difference between a Narrative and a Theory? For pedants a narrative has to have a beginning, a middle and an end. A theory is an explanation for why something happens. A theory has to be testable, otherwise it might just as well be a narrative. The criticism brought against both Whitehead is that the metaphysics of his Process Philosophy was more like a narrative than it was anything like a testable theory. In a very real way, the Book of Genesis is a narrative, it's not a theory. Whitehead's metaphysics has been called the Philosophy of Organism, he suggests that reality isn't a bunch of substances and objects, it's not stuff, it's a series of interconnected dynamic processes, it's the "drops of experience" constantly becoming that make up the universe. Whitehead's been praised for doing away with the mind body duality and he's been accused of coming up with a jumble of ill defined, incomprehensible words, such as "actual occasion," "prehension," and "concrescence." In the end the thing to understand is his claim that every actual occasion has a form of subjective experience. In short, for the former Head Boy of Abbey House at Sherborne School in Dorset stuff wasn't noun, it was verb.

 David Bohm was a different fish. His PhD thesis at Berkeley University contributed to solving the math in some of the practical problems confronting the science of building an atom bomb. Because his work was "secret" he had a hell of a job getting his Thesis recognized. He fell foul of the Congressional morons of the Un-American Activities Committee. The most significant Theoretical Physicist of the 20th Century became a Brazilian Citizens, then a British Citizen. He died in Herndon near London, England. His verbs emerged from the unbroken wholeness of Implicate Order, everything folded in everything else, the Universe is a "flowing movement" not  a collection of isolated parts.

 

AGM's and Enoch made Them.

 Enoch, in the Biblical Record lived 365 years before he was gathered by God and that's where the Ancient Gossip Mongers  (AGM's) went to town. The text - Genesis 5:21-24  - is clear enough: Enoch "walked with God: and he was no more; for God took him."

 Some Jewish and I suspect more Christian thinkers have suggested that the real meaning of Genesis 5:21-24 when it is translated properly into one of these silly modern languages like English is that the Enoch Episode was early in God's relationship with his creation and he'd forgotten to make sure that Enoch was actually dead before allowing him into heaven. The result for anyone who worries about these things is that Enoch is still alive and well and a real pain to be around.

 There are two other things to remember about Enoch, he is the son of a sixth generation descendant of Adam called Jared and he fathered Methuselah, a man who lived for 969 years. And there it is, the whole straight line thing happening, as linear thinking bullies and, unless you happen to be retarded, lies its way into becoming the central plank in the genetic inheritance of a Faith that attempts to maintain a personal relationship with a God that obviously doesn't give a damn.

 The Phrase "Enoch made them, Enoch shall break them," was Luddite humor. Enoch Taylor had an iron foundry in West Yorkshire, he and his men  made 7-10 pound sledgehammers, and they made the needles for the knitting frames, two of which were destroyed by Ned Ludd in 1799 with an Enoch Hammer. During the 1812 riots, "Enoch made them, Enoch shall break them" was a slogan that cheered the crowd and frightened the masters.

 The issue of Self, is that Self does not live in isolation, it is not formed in isolation, it is not hammered in isolation. The fourteen men hanged on January 16th in two batches in York Castle for breaking machines left 13 widows and 56 children fatherless. 

Recuperation - The Great Enoch of the Mind, or Lord Byron's "Atropine of the Poor."

Guy Debord of the Letterist International.

 In 1799, Ned Ludd smashed the needles of two wide knitting frames. In 1812, the year Napoleon's soldiers retreated from Moscow, the Parliament of the Greater Britain passed the Frame Breaking Act. 

 Lord Byron, the Romantic Poet, in his maiden speech to the House of Lords, described the Act as the "Atropine of the Poor." What did he mean? Atropine is one of those medicines that might cure you, or it might kill you. Killing the poor, Byron argued, wasn't the solution to poverty. 

 In 1813, in the City of York Greater Britain, 13 men were hanged for smashing machines. In Britain, the labor movement had a long way to go.

  As of March 19th 2026  we're a long way from Ned Ludd. In the 1980's there was a French group called CLODO (Comité Liquidant  Ou Détournant Les Ordinateurs, or Committee on the Liquidation or Subversion of Computers) which was proudly responsible for attacks on several computer firms. There was Ted Kaczynski, a wizard of mathematics known as the Unabomber a graduate of Harvard University who received a PhD from Michigan University for his thesis on Boundary of Functions, he died in 2023, in jail when he was 81. And in October of 2025  SHITPHONE ritualistically put an iPhone on trial and smashed a phone-shaped piñata. It was described as a "Byzantine performance, part Carnival, part Luddite Respite aimed at reclaiming the Present Moment from the Little Existential Rectangle."

 When we put CLODO, the Unabomber and the outrages of SHITPHONE it is as nothing when compared to the reactions (Peterloo Massacre, the Chartist movement etc, etc) across a nation that resulted from the Parliament of Britain shitting on the working man by passing the Frame Breaking Act of 1812. So why have the great majority of us all just pudded around lily-livered and gormless while knock-kneed, un-lettered squillionaires in tee-shirts prance around on stage and tell us what our future is going to look like.

 I'll tell you. Experience and perception have been commodified, we are trapped in digital vapor. Controlling the Means of Production as conversation is deported, it’s too literal. The real hanging offense today is Dumb Insolence against the true model of reality the un-lettered Tech-Bros want to build. And here if the AI provides Justice for the Poor, so the Tech-Bros don't have to, we must ask "Is it a Reciprocal Recognition, or is it just a High-Speed Eviction Notice written in a more affordable font?"

Just in case, recuperation is the word used by the Dumb Insolent to describe how capital commodifies everything including revolution. 

Doctor Faust and his short cut

Red Deadnettle.

Maybe Henbit Deadnettle

 The Faustian, or the Ned Ludd Algorithm is a thin promise that a machine will solve the problem of Profit and Certainty in exchange for the user's Sovereignty. It's the Front-Row belief that a calculation can replace the uncertainties of destiny and the blindness of the Fates. The algorithm wants to retrain the universe, it wants a simulation of the world not the disobedient coherence of an Insolent Back Row.

Ned Ludd? Algorithm?

Yes. 

Habermas

Habermas in 2008

 Oh, with the storms gone from the night, the winds calm again, the joy of resonating in the verbs of Sovereign Recognition, a "shared becoming." Yet it's a belated day of remembrance. Jürgen  Habermas died on March 14th 2026, he was 96. Like all great minds be reached the third month of the year before following the Lead Bull into greener pastures so that he might return again renewed. He called his "shared becoming," his Sovereign Recognition, he called it intersubjectivity.

"Was Jürgen a man of the Back Row?" I hear the call.

No, he was Front Row through and through. His mission was Critical Theory, his motives stemmed from the agony of the Second World War, his question was "how the hell did this happen to the German people, why did we allow it, what can we do about it." Put that in your pipe and suck it as our own world sinks back into the brigandage of a lawless Oligarchy, an Epstein Class that defines the sacred as Gold Plate, Botox, Gated Communities and Private Islands.  

 Habermas took his thinking to the Post Structural dissection, he understood words as noises in a symbolic order of meaning. The rationality of Weber's practical, real-world sociology through Habermas' interpretation required a profound understanding of the mechanics of communication between us beings as Wittgensteinian writing in sand and not on the stone Bertrand Russell was hoping for.

Habermas wanted to solve the world with reason. The Back-Row sees the world as both "wonder and agony." Baxter and Bobby agree with our wordless comrade the Cat. We don't need a Procedural Theory of Democracy to know when a Surgical Strike is necessary or when a Byzantine silence of dumb insolence is the best response to a Front-Row in service to the Oligarchs who demand nouns from us.

  

The Jeeves and Wooster of the Back Row engage Jesus in Dumb Insolence

More Bloodroot

 I think we enjoy the smell of raw knowledge and human frailty for a while longer, go back in time to what might have been a struggle Jesus of Nazareth, the human, was having with words when as an example of Grace over Law he wrote in the sand.

 This is where the Wooster of the Sliver says "what ho" when he means "something useful is being said, I'm not sure what it is?" and The Jeeves of the Anvil, the one who keeps the glossary, comes to the rescue.

 This is a "Surgical Strike" into the very dust of our history. We have arrived at  the ultimate Back Row moment. The stage is set, a man in a crowd, a woman facing the cane of the Law, and a deliberate act of answerlessness etched into the ground, and don't take too much notice of John the writer of Gospels and his nouns, Jesus was stalling, he was performing the first recorded Benjamin Mortification of a thin legal noun - what Critical Theorists do.

 The Front Row (the Pharisees) brought in a woman as a category - she was an Adulteress. The Front Row wanted a "Frictionless" execution of a linear law. Jesus, the human, refused to look at the Noun. He looked at the sliver, the person that lay beyond the noun of a backdoor that had been categorized Adulteress.

 When Wooster of the Sliver, that's me,  says "What ho?" at this scene, he is sensing the Superposition, his cat in a box waiting to be rescued, one way or another from a decaying atom. The Law is thin, it's a spelling test where the penalty is death. The Writing in the Sand is Thick, it's a Verb that refuses to "Noun-ify" the woman.

 By writing in the sand, Jesus was creating a Pedagogy of Answerlessness. He didn't argue the law. He changed the friction of the room. He forced every person in that crowd to face their own Mental Disunity - to look at their own long list of failures before they dared to collapse the wave and sentenced the woman accused of a spelling mistake to death

 Our Jeeves of the Anvil looks at our Glossary of understandings, he turns to the word "grace" sees  an International Sovereign Recognition. Here the law demands a noun, a sinner. The Sliver Sense of "grace" doesn't see a noun, it sees a Becoming - a verb.

  Writing in the sand, the most temporary, friction-full surface that can be found,  our understanding sees that Truth isn't a Monument of Stone, but a Relational Event in the dust.

 Like Sayyid Said al-Busaidi bin Sultan of Oman and Zanzibar outwitting Mountstewart Elphinstone the governor of Bombay in the 1840's the Anvil upon which our Glossary of understandings is forged, this time is championed by Jesus, he outwitted the Oligarchs of the Law,  the Pharisees.

 Call it the Byzantine Silence of the Sand. If Jesus, the man, had said "Don't stone her," he broke the law. If he said "Stone her" he broke an understanding of grace forged by his own verbs. Instead he went silent, a  Back-Row Maneuver, sometimes called Dumb Insolence. He invited the judges into the Void of Potential. And in that silence, the contagion of the crowd broke. They didn't collapse into a mob, they tangled back into individuals and walked away, instead of killing the demonstrator they all broke the law..

Ordo Posterior Superbus

Quince and Forsythia

 The Crowd as a biological event, what le Bon called Mental Unity, as distinct from the biological event of Alone-ness, or possibly Mental Disunity, is currently an intuitive distinction which on evidence from my own personal experience is I think a real distinction. There are things I will do and say when alone with my thoughts that I try to avoid doing or saying when in a crowd.  

 More recently we don't all live in the same cave, we don't keep warm by the same fire, bath in the same water, sleep in the same space, and there are billions of us not millions. I suspect that over the generations the quality of both Alone-ness and Crowd-ness has changed. A massive crowd for a hunter gatherer was probably less than a hundred people.

 For John Walking Stewart the ideal of social organization was five or six family groups living in the same Longhouse. Mind you, Walking Stewart never lived in a Longhouse, he died alone on his birthday in the room he rented in Northumberland Place near what is now Trafalgar Square in London, England. In the following days his body was found by friends beside an empty bottle of laudanum. A truly enviable way to put an end to the pains of old age and sickness.

 For a Trappist, a hermit, a reality is the inevitability of crowd-ness in a belief system that places value on alone-ness. For a hermit and Trappist the exercise is to maintain an intimate and wordless contact with a form that has nothing to do with crowds of people. And desperate the majority of us are to understand our belonging through the warmth and security of a majority. If a hermit might want to be invisible, not sure that a Trappist does.

 In our world the grammarians have made an effigy of language. They see verbs as in the service of nouns. Like good mechanics in their fear of death or invisibility, they make up spelling tests, the subjunctive and they invent adjectives to dress the dead. I can see the back row is a basic pain, a disobedience with nothing but disobedience to offer, and how glad I am to belong to it.

"Back Row Proud."