Folded Thought of the Day:


Memoirs of a Forgotten Man
... From the Notebooks of Father Xavier Smith

Crate up all the lions.  We're getting ready to roll.  Wash the 
glasses and bring in the pigs.  One last feast then we'll pull 
up stakes.  No punctuation to convey the meaning this troupe 
is set to travel upon.  A collective one-man band.  All set to 
go.  Iron those shirts and bring down the lights.  Get in the 
habit.  Pull at the strings.  Forget all the pain.  Wash out 
the mouths.  Time to caress, to cajole... out of nothing... in 
to everything.  Put out the fire, burning way too long... still 
thinking about this fiction... this madness.  Straining to hear 
the echoes.

Was it all a memory?... that brought us here.

It's a class conflict of the highest degree.  And just like 
that, we begin our descent.  Into realism.  No special 
treatment will make any of this worth the trouble -- that 
idea that we'll somehow make things more bearable if only 
we look on the bright side.  Turning away will always lead 
you nowhere.  

Do you recall that feeling, long ago? -- that we actually 
had a chance at coming out ahead.  None of that tonight.  
Why did we start all this when we can't even begin to 
let it conclude.  No end in sight.  Nothing even remotely 
conclusive.  Just give it to us straight.  We have it coming.

Has the night come yet?  Let the darkness descend.  I am prepared.  
Let the moon spotlight this emergence.  Before it turns away.  

And I will sit in stony silence.  Among the fallen idols of 
my intolerance.  This is the way the cookie crumbles.  
Freedom is not a matter of choice.  And we all feel the 
importance of the coming... this outing.  Is this is why you 
came?... why you stood so long, in the darkness.  To prepare 
for your big entrance.  

I am watching the objects take the stage.  The props that 
you will soon dance among.  Leaving them standing.  In shame.  

And you'll be there.  Humming to the balcony dwellers.  Leaning 
too far over the edge to be totally safe.  And the heroes will 
be lining up at the exits, knowing there's no safe place for 
them in the auditorium.  

Bring together the happenstances and see how quickly they 
begin to makes sense.  Don't worry about the small amount 
that doesn't add up.  Write it off.  Remainders will refuse 
to be carried over.  Keep a little bit for your followers.  
All things being equal.

Come, and let it all begin.  

I was there when you were created.  I wrote the fine 
print.  And then it was all erased.  


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