[Nettime-bold] Testament, a story

[josh zeidner <jjzeidner@yahoo.com>]

Tim,

 It was just yesterday when I was towning, nosing
around to see what sights I could smell.  I came
across the said perriwinkle book shop, and ducked
right in.  In arab lands they say - "if you let a
camels nose in to the tent, soon its whole body
follows through".  Of course the shopkeep knew this,
and watched as I sniffed at the pages of waxen
paperbacks.  Most were mere rags with silly rings for
small people.  But one book, a pad, all out blue with
gold lettering caught my eye.  I picked it up and
thumbed it.  The type was savage but sincere, the
pages were even a little raw at the edges.  I scanned
a few lines, and decided to want it.  It titled: "The
Kybalion, by Hermes Trismegistus".  I asked the
shopkeep how much, and instead of complying talked:
"Good choice," i've had many good trips with this one.
 Then he told me and I promptly handed over the bills,
soon slipping back into the street, followed by the
rustling of bells at the backside of the door.
  Now Im tired and hungering, so I start the dance in
the kitchen( Im back home now ).  Get out my pot, and
scrub it out, wash it clean.  Then I put the meat in(
I know you dont eat meat with feet, rather roots, but
to me its just the same ).  Added onions, garlics,
stirred and then tipped in some sour wine.  The steam
was sharp and tasty.  I let it sizzle for a bit, and
added water to the mix, brought it to a boil.  Here we
have a bloody foam bubbling up, but thought nothing of
it.  So I let it cook, by lidding it and dikindled it
a bit.  Looking good.  So I sit down with my new
friend and start to follow a few lines( most front to
back ), the binding made a crack when I started.
  I saw a few good sayings such as: "As above, so
below" and "Strong meat for men, milk for babes".  I
felt my mind sparkling a bit as it went on, making
many fine jokes of our histories.  Even Hermes and
Abraham lived and breathed the very same air that you
and I.  They lived outside of the stale words handed
to hand for too long to remember, or so the book
winked.  The pot boiled over just then, so I had to
tend it, but soon got back to my work.  After finding
a few useful words, I shut the book to have my stew. 
By now it was muddy, the barley had fully mingled with
a rich brown odor.  It was ready.  So I took the pot
to my room, where I was listening to some music play. 
It tasted good, a rich hardy brew.
  It was here that a most serious thing happened.  As
I gently supped, I did not notice the grasses and
vines environing around me.  They were joining all
about everything, but I simply sat and ate, quite
oblivious to the new undergrowing.  I suppose I should
have heard the crickets quirking, but I was too
surrounded by my meal.  It was at some lost moment
when, I did notice, and, Surprize!  What a gem.  It
seems to have slipped before it began.  I could not
tell you what I knew at that moment, although I was
sure I knew it before.  As the explosion settled, I
was left with a plaything, or a favor.  It was like: (
Kybalion + Cabala = Kyboros = Cybernetics ). 
Something that had been becoming since ages old, a
little gold glimmer where the dust had been wiped
clean.  I supposed it had been gangled by the growths
of fools( this thread to the past ), by kings with
pyrite crowns and warlords with steeled smiles, all
clashing for the rule of surrogate heavens.  Various
others still remained as well, like Kybalion =
"guidebook" or "book of control", which I found
evidence of within the pages.  These cherubs still
flutter today, they still move, but I only see them
laughing back at me.
  So you see Tim, they may still have a few things to
tell, maybe something that may aid you.  The one,
Kyboros, is a ship steersman, like Ahab the one who
drove the wheel( for the Greeks at least ).  And
Cybernetics you know, but that had been tarnished as
well, been tossed asunder by the tide already.  But I
tell you these creatures are but drunks who linger
past the party, whatever garden door had opened , it
was shut now, and this story is its only testament.

  -josh



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