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First Draft

March, 2001

Preface 2017 The Objectivist poets were a loose-knit group of second-generation Modernists who emerged in the 1930s. They were mainly American and were influenced by, amongst others, Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams.

The basic tenets of objectivist poetics as defined by Louis Zukofsky were to treat the poem as an object, and to emphasise sincerity, intelligence, and the poet's ability to look clearly at the world. \

While the name of the group is the same as Ayn Rand's school of Objectivist philosophy, the two movements are neither exactly the same nor mutually exclusive.  If anyone tells you that contradictions don't exist, contradict them immediately.  They get really frustrated.  I'm serious.  Try it.

Sooner or later, the empiricist is proven wrong in their arrogant pessimism by the flow of events.

1.

I seal the store of death with the spectral tone of liberation.

I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS. BUT AT THE OUTSET I THOUGHT THAT THE ANNOYING LITTLE CAPITALIST INSIDE ME WANTED TO CRYSTALLIZE IT,PITCH IT AS A MINISERIES, MAKE TONS OF CASH...LIKE OUR LOVE, IT SEEMED LIKE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL CONCEPT THAT ITS CORRUPTION WAS INEVITABLE. I HAD TO THINK ABOUT  IT. IT WAS A CONCEPT BORN OF ANGUISH AND LOVE. 

LOVE THAT STAYED HIDING DEEP IN MY GULLET WHILE I TRAMPED OFF TO APPOINTMENTS.   TO CATCH BUSES, TRAINS.LOVE THAT ALWAYS SEEMED INAPPROPRIATE.  OUT OF LINE.  IMPRACTICAL.  ANGUISHED, I WONDERED WHY I HAD NO IDEA WHY I WAS GOING TO MAKE THESE DEALS,SIGN THESE CONTRACTS.  I HAD EMOTIONS, BUT THEY WERE SO OFTEN WRAILING, YEARNING, PITEOUS FEELINGS THAT I COULDN'T GET UP TO THE SURFACE.  THE BILLS HAD TO BE PAID, THOUGH, AND THE DEBT AND THE FEAR OF DEBT TOWERED,  MENACING, ALWAYS MENACING. AT NIGHT, ALONE, BEFORE SLEEP, I WOULD TREMBLE.   ANGUISH THAT I COULD NOT TRACE TO A SOURCE. OCCASIONALLY, A SINGLE TEAR.  WHO HAS TIME TO SIT UP WEEPING ALL NIGHT?  THERE IS PROGRAMMING TO DO IN THE A. M.
*

I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.
EARTHQUAKES COULD COME TO THE U. S.!   PANDEMIC EARTHQUAKES, FROM COAST TO COAST!THUNDER FROM OUT OF THE GROUND!  SHAKING!  TALL BUILDINGS TOPPLING!  MASSIVE DESTRUCTION!
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS BECAUSE I LOVED SOME FOLKS, AND THEY SEEMED TO HAVE LITTLE MONEY.    I LOVED THEM BECAUSE THEY WERE BEAUTIFUL AND PISSED OFF, AND MARCHING OFF TO WAR AGAINST A HORRIBLE ENEMY.  I WATCHED THEM LOCK THEIR ARMS AND BEND THEIR HEADS DOWN, GETTING PUMMELED WITH THE BATONS OF PEACE OFFICERS AND GETTING CARTED OFF TO JAILS.  PROTESTING.OR ELSE GETTING SWEPT OFF THE STREET TO THE SIDEWALK LIKE SO MUCH DETRITUS...SO MUCH HUMAN DEBRIS. IGNORED BY THE POLICE AFTER GETTING OUT OF THE WAY.IGNORED OR MALIGNED BY THE MEDIA.  BRAVELY,LIKE SOLDIERS...PATRIOTS FOR A NATION WITH NO NAME AND NO BORDERS.  I WAS ANGUISHED BY WITNESSING THESE QUIXOTIC FREEDOM FIGHTERS AS THEY DEPLETED THEMSELVES.
I DIDN'T WANT THEM TO LOSE BECAUSE THEY WERE FIGHTING FOR ME.   THEY HADN'T SAID SO.  BUT THEY WERE.
I WAS TIRED OF WATCHING THEM FIGHT.
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS WHILE CHOKING ON THE REALIZATION THAT THERE WERE NO ENEMIES.
�cities can have aspects of beauty,...all lit up at night,shining and distinguished, twinkling in a cloud of fog. Gorgeous!
But then one gets closer, and the misery, the alienation, the grinding drudgery that keeps the financial engines running...not so glamorous...not so gorgeous.

After a while I learned that cities tend to show less than what there is to the superficial observer...>  >  � �
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS WHILE CHOKING ON THE REALIZATION THAT THERE WERE NO ENEMIES.
THERE WERE TIMES WHEN I WISHED THAT I COULD FORGET THAT I KNEW ANYTHING.
I WANTED TO RIP MY HEART OUT OF MY CHEST AND THROW IT TO THE GROUND AND NOT HAVE TO DEAL WITH THE PAIN OF FEELING.  I WOULD JUST PUT MY HEAD DOWN AND JUST ACCEPT LIFE�S INEVITABLE TORTUROUS GRIND, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.   JUST ACCEPT MY MISERY.
I DIDN�T HAVE THE GUTS TO ADMIT THAT I OWNED THE THINGS I USED ALL THE TIME, BUT THE MISERY, THE DISGUST, THE UTTER REVULSION WERE MINE, ALL MINE. 
 I GOT THEM FROM BLAMING.  FROM BLAMING ALL MY PROBLEMS ON THE WORLD, ON THE BOSSES, ON THE WARS, ON THE ATM MACHINES, ON THE CEMETERIES, ON THE �ANYTHING BUT MYSELF.
WHEN I REALISED THAT ALL THE BAGGAGE WAS MY PROBLEM-THAT THERE WAS NO ONE TO BLAME-
I THOUGHT ABOUT BLAMING GOD.  IT SEEMED UNFAIR.GOD HAS TAKEN ENOUGH ABUSE, I REALISED.
GENERATIONS UPON GENERATIONS HAVE DEALT WITH THE SPECTRE OF DEATHS INEVITABLITY.  WHY SHOULD I BE THE FREAK?  THE OPTIMIST?   JUST LYING TO MYSELF.  IN COMPLETE DENIAL OF THE WAY THINGS REALLY WERE, THE WAY THINGS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE.
OR SOMETHING.
I ATTEMPTED TO CHEER MYSELF UP.  WEAKLY.I MANAGED TO VAGUELY DISTRACT MYSELF FOR SHORT AMOUNTS OF TIME�THE MISERY CAME BACK IN HORRIBLE WAVES, WORSE THAN EVER.  A SURREAL URGE TO PUKE OFTEN OVERCAME ME WHEN I THOUGHT OF ROMANCE.
WHAT A WASTE OF TIME. 
ROMANCE?  WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO LIVE FOR?
LIVE FOR A FRAGILE DREAM, SO EASILY SHATTERED.
WHEN I LOOKED AND SAW THAT LIES WERE EVERYWHERE,WHEN IT SEEMED TO ME THAT A PORTION, NO MATTER HOW SMALL, OF THE TRUTH, WOULD ALWAYS BE MISSING�
�WHAT IS TRUTH?�
OH WELL. I GUESS I JUST CAN�T HANDLE THE TRUTH.
*
I WANTED TO SCREAM IT OUT BUT IT BECAME CORRUPT.
For awhile I celebrated this great love I had for everyone and everything.
It felt great for awhile, but I couldn�t enjoy it.  Infancy of the soul.  And I looked and I found that I saw that I was surrounded by sad, sad folks, deeply affected by the gravity, by the seriousness of their situation.   They weren�t in love with life, in love with living, in love with anything.  They were shades of unhappy, variable factors of miserable�and GUILT STARTED HAPPENING TO ME, MORE AND MORE.  I WISHED I COULD FORGET.

I WISHED THAT I COULD FORGET, AT TIMES, THAT THE CORPORATE EMPIRES WERE COMPOSED OF INDIVIDUALS WITH HEARTS AND SOULS, PEOPLE WHO WANTED LOVE AND PEACE, BUT I KNEW THAT THERE WERE WARM, BREATHING, SENTIENT BEINGS WORKING FOR THOSE MASSIVE SHADOWY INDUSTRIES, PEOPLE WHO WANTED TO MAKE LOVE AND FEEL GOOD.  HOMO SAPIENS, OR SOMETHING.

I THOUGHT ABOUT JUSTICE.  I THOUGHT ABOUT FLAMING ARMAGEDDON.I THOUGHT ABOUT HEAVEN ON EARTH; I SAID, �WHAT IF ALL THE MISERY THAT NOW RULES THE EARTH TODAY TURNED INTO JOY?�
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS AND I QUESTIONED MY OWN GUILTINESS UNTIL I FELT SOMETHING ELSE.   AND I FELT SOMETHING LIKE�PITY�FOR EVERYONE.   FOR A POOR OLD MAN WHO THEY PUSH AND PUSH.   THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM HE LOOKED HE LOOKED SO SICK AND TIRED.  HIS SPIRITUAL CONSTITUENTS, SOME OF THEM HANG ON HIS EVERY WORD!.   IT�S HIS JOB AND HE LOOKS SO OLD.  SO INFIRM.  HE HANGS ON�
PITY FOR MYSELF.  I DIDN�T WANT THAT FLAMING ARMAGEDDON.PITY FOR ALL US PROLES WHO DON�T SEE ANY OTHER WAYBUT SLAVING FOR USELESS PAPER UNTIL WE SHIT AND EXPIRE.AND FOR ALL THE SERFS WHO WON�T GET ANYWHERE NEAR THAT MUCH PAPER, WHO WILL BREAK THEIR BACKS (LIKE GENERATIONS OF THEIR ANCESTORS) IN TOILET PAPER FACTORIES THAT LEACH POISON INTO THEIR GROUND WATER.
AND I FELT PITY FOR THE BOURGEOISIE, SO ISOLATED FROM THEIR FEELINGS THAT THEY COULDN�T UNDERSTAND LIFTING A FINGER AND NOT SEEING A PROFIT.   THE PAIN INSIDE THEM THAT THEY DON�T UNDERSTAND, THEIR HEARTS LIKE THE PHANTOM LIMBS OF WAR VETERANS.
I FELT A LOT OF PITY AND I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE MANY TIMES I HAD BEEN TOLD THAT I THOUGHT TOO MUCH.  I THOUGHT ABOUT THE BEAUTIFUL GIRL WHO TOLD ME THAT I WAS TOO SENSITIVE.
SICKENED, I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS. 
AND I ASKED MY SELF  ABOUT THE ANNOYING LITTLE CAPITALIST INSIDE ME; WHAT WAS HIS MOTIVATION?
EVENTUALLY, I FELT LIKE IT WAS ALL FALLING IN ON ME, LIKE I WAS IMPLODING.  COLLAPSING.  THE WALLS OF THE CITY TOWERED LIKE MONSTERS, LIKE GLASS TOOTHED DEMONS, THEY LEERED, MENACING, ALWAYS MENACING.
HOPE?  HOW COULD I HOPE?  JUST PRETENDING THAT THERE WAS A BEAUTIFUL WORLD BECKONING WITH HAPPINESS AND FREEDOM FOR ALL.
BUT ALL OVER THE WORLD WERE HATRED AND DEATH, FEAR AND UNBEARABLE MISERY.
SURROUNDED BY GUILT AND FEAR I SEARCHED FOR A CURE.
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS AND IMAGINED A CURE FOR THE HATRED AND SELF LOATHING THAT I PERCEIVED EVERYONE ELSE TO BE ROILING IN, WRITHING IN GUILT, SUFFERING AND HUSTLING.
I WAS TALKING AND TALKING AND THINKING AND THINKING AND WORRYING AND WRINGING MY HANDS AND GRITTING MY TEETH AND SWEATING AND GRIPING AND�
I WAS TIRED AND WISHING THAT I COULD SHUT IT ALL OUT.  BUT I COULDN�T.  IT HAD BECOME A PART OF ME, LIKE THE PAST BECOMING THE PRESENT.

FOR SO LONG I HAD CONSIDERED THE EVIL IN LIFE SOMETHING OUTSIDE OF MYSELF, TO BE DEFEATED. 
FOR SO LONG I HAD BELIEVED THAT LOVE WAS THE SUPREME FORCE IN LIFE, STRONGER THAN ANYTHING.
HOW COULD I COMBINE THESE TWO ELEMENTS � LOVE AND EVIL?  UNSPEAKABLE BLASPHEMY.
SELF-QUESTIONING BECAME AN INTEGRAL PART OF MY PROCESS.AS I CONSIDERED THE SERIOUSNESS OF MY INTENT I REALISED THAT I HAD TO SEE IT THROUGH!  
BECAUSE ONE PART OF THE STORY WAS THE POSSIBLE ENDING, THE ALTERNATE ENDING - THE LOSERS� SCENARIO.
EVERTHING BEAUTIFUL ABOUT EARTH BURNT OUT BY THE UNCHANGED AGGRESSION OF THE WORLD LEADERS.  A SWEEPING DEARTH � TOTAL NUCLEAR  WAR.  NO SURVIVORS.  THE END OF ALL HOPE, NO CHANCE FOR A FUTURE.
THAT WOULD BE A FALL OF SORTS, BUT NOT JUST THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.
THE FALL OF THE EARTH.  HOW LONG UNTIL SHE RECOVERED?  FROM SUCH A PAINFUL WAR?  SOME NEW FORM OF EVOLUTIONARY BEINGS WOULD BEGIN RISING TO REPOPULATE HER, BUT FOR HUMANS, THE END.  ROACHES, OR CATS�I COULDN�T BEGIN TO IMAGINE IT.
SO I CONSIDERED THE END OF THE STORY THAT I HAD IN MIND.
AND THE WORLD, AS I KNEW IT, AS I SAW IT, COULD DEFINITE USE A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.
BUT I WAS HAVING DIFFICULTY SEEING THE PATH FROM THE STALEMATE I SAW TO THE BEGINNING OF THE NEW CYCLE.
I WOULD STILL LAY DOWN TO SLEEP AND WISH THAT FLOOD OF TEARS WOULD COME.  INSTEAD,  ONE.  OR A TRICKLE.  IT MADE ME MAD AND I WANTED TO SCREAM.
MY LIFE, MY SALVATION WAS IN THOSE TEARS! I BEGGED AND PLEADED WITH MYSELF TO LET GO AND CRY.  BUT SOMETHING WAS STUCK.
A CLOUD OF DISILLUSIONMENT HUNG OVER MY HEAD.  AS I FACED THE POSSIBILITY THAT MY DESIRE WASFUTILE,THAT MY GOOD INTENTIONS WOULD WIND ME UPIN A HOTTER HELL THAN THE ONE I WAS ALREADY IN, I DUG MY HEELS IN ONCE AGAIN.
I DIDN�T SEE BOMBS DROPPING OUT OF THE SKY.  I HAD TO KEEP WORKING.
�YOU NEED MONEY TO SURVIVE!��YOU NEED A JOB TO LIVE!��FREELOADER!  PARASITE!�
�HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST THAT SLAVERY BE ABOLISHED?�

WHY SHOULD I PRETEND?  I JUST CAN�T GET IN STEP WITH THE TRUTH.   CAPITALISM IS BEAUTIFUL!   WONDERFUL!  IT�S GOD�S GIFT TO US ALL.  
I�M JUST A �HAVE-NOT�, WISHING I WAS A �HAVE.�  I�M JUST JEALOUS�YEAH�THAT�S IT.
I JUST NEED TO LIGHTEN UP.  CAPITALISM IS SUCH A STRONG FORCE!  A MORAL FORCE!   WHY HAVE I BEEN KIDDING MYSELF ALL THIS TIME?
YES�EVERYONE SHOULD LOVE MONEY!   THAT�S THE ANSWER,   AND THOSE THAT DON�T WELL, THERE�S NO ROOM FOR THEM  IN A CIVILIZED WORLD.
CAPITALISM CAN�T DESTROY THE WORLD.  WHO WOULD SPEND MONEY?  AND MONEY IS THE REAL MEANING OF LIFE.
ONE DAY I WAS SO TIRED OF HOLDING IN MY FRUSTRATION AND RAGE THAT I HAD A GALL BLADDER ATTACK.  IT FELT LIKE MY ABDOMEN WAS GOING TO IMPLODE, LIKE THERE WAS A BLACK HOLE IN MY GUT.
*

2.  I am guided by my own power doubled.

I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS, BUT AT THE OUTSET I THOUGHT THAT THE ANNOYING LITTLE CAPITALIST INSIDE ME WANTED TO PITCH IT AS A MINISERIES, SELL IT, MAKE A PROFIT�
UNTIL I REALISED IT WAS NOT ABOUT THE PRIME MOVERS, IT WAS ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS, AND WHAT BROUGHT IT ABOUT.
IT WAS NOT ABOUT TURNING AWAY FROM THE DARK EMOTIONS(BECAUSE THE PRIME MOVERS ARE WRACKED WITH THEM),  BUT OBSERVING AND TRANSMUTING THEM,
SO SAD�SO LONELY�SAD AND LONELY, CRIPPLED.
TRANSMUTING IT ALL.
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE ROUGH ASSIGNMENT I WAS TAKING ON, ITS POSSIBILITY FOR SUCCESS.  I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FACT THAT I WAS DOING IT FOR NO MONEY, NO MONEY AT ALL.
IN FACT, NOT ONE RED CENT.
I OBSERVED WITH HORROR THAT � ALTHOUGH IT WAS A LITTLE FUNNY-THAT LITTLE GREEN MEN WERE CONTROLLING ALMOST EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING.
MORE WAVES OF PITY FOLLOWED.  �BURN A DOLLAR FOR JUSTICE,�SOME WELL-WISHER SAID TO ME ONCE, LONG BEFORE THIS IDEA STARTED MAKING ITSELF PLAIN TO ME.
UNTIL I REALISED IT WASN�T ABOUT DESTROYING ANYTHING.   ESPECIALLY A STIGMATIZED PIECE OF TREE TISSUE, IN MY FAVORITE COLOR, NO LESS.*
I COULD CLOSE MY EYES TO THE PALPABLE DISGUST I FEEL FOR ALL THE INTIMIDATING AND RUTHLESS SYSTEMS THAT ENSLAVE AND DEMORALIZE.
EXCEPT FOR THE POLICE OFFICERS, AND THE CORPORATE EXECUTIVES, THE BOSSES AND THE GENERALS�IT HAS BEEN SO EASY FOR WOULD-BE REVOLUTIONARIES TO PLAN THEIR DEATHS, TO CREATE MANIFESTOES WITH NO ROOM FOR THESE HUMAN BEINGS.  TO THINK NOTHING OF TAKING REVENGE, OF RIGHTEOUSLY FIGHTING FIRE WITH FIRE.
IT WAS NOT ABOUT TURNING AWAY FROM THE DARKNESS OF THAT RAGE. IT WAS ABOUT TRASH TO STEAM.
SPECIFICALLY IT WAS ABOUT USING THAT ENERGY, BY TRANSMUTING IT.
TRANSMUTING THE RAGE AND FRUSTRATION OF THE INNER CITY.TRANSMUTING THE FEAR AND FRUSTRATION OF THE RURAL AREAS.CHANGING IT ALL WITH SOME ALCHEMICAL AGENT INTO SUCH A PURE AND SWEEPING �

But you and I, we know better, don�t we, my love?  Because you have lived and lived and lived for unconditional love, and resigned, and come back into the game with more determination, and been rejected and body-checked into horrid abasement as many times, my love�what a thing to marvel on, you are, sweet thing.
And even though you�re gone now, blissfully, totally gone, there is nothing else to live for but you, for me�
They battle on.   You sunk my whole battle ship, and I turned over the greenest of new leaves, but it seems as if to the rest of them, you didn�t even make a blip on the radar.  And they plan their wars and they manipulate their precious little �Dow� and it all makes me so sick�

I want to say poor you, but it�s just poor me, now.   All alone, all alone.  The others have given up, or fallen back to sleep.  And I am running on fumes, Kathleen.
I am running on fumes and the whole idea�I know, I know�I keep pressing it anyway.
You�re so safe now.  Lock and key, no one can disturb you again.  Sweet Kathleen.
Occasionally I feel myself slipping�more than occasionally, I feel myself slipping continually, Kathleen.
I cannot dance like that without you.   I am just a skinny man with bricks in his pockets, and the wind gets stronger and stronger and stronger�
*
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS BECAUSE SHE WAS DEAD AND IT WAS THEM WHAT HAD KILLED HER.  THERE�S NO REVENGE POSSIBLE.
SHE WENT DOWN FIGHTING THAT SAME HORRIBLE DEMON, THAT SAME SADISTIC MOLOCH, THAN MINDLESS MAMMON, CAPITALISM.  
AND SHE WENT DOWN AND OUT AND THAT IS ONE OUT LIGHT, BABY.  THAT LIGHT IS OUT.
SO NOW IT IS SO EARLY IN THE MORNING; IS THIS THE LAST DAY?
BECAUSE I KNOW THAT THEY ALSO HAVE A PLAN.  THEY AREN�T WRITING AN UNPUBLISHABLE SCREENPLAY BUT THEY HAVE A PLAN TOO, THEIR OWN FALL.  
THEY WANT TO GO UNDERGROUND AND WATCH THE SCARRED AND BURNT EARTH ON SATELLITE T. V., LIKE MORLOCKS, LIKE TROGLODYTES.
I AM DONE FIGHTING FIRE WITH FIRE, BECAUSE�SCREW IT, I�LL JUST SAY THAT I AM.   INSTEAD I REALISE THAT I CANNOT PLAY THEIR GAME.  SO EVERY DAY IS LIKE THAT LAST DAY FOR ME NOW.
OH, MILLIONS WALK THE STREETS AND DENY IT.  �I LOVE MY JOB,�  THEY�LL SAY.  �I LOVE THE PEOPLE I WORK WITH.�   MAYBE THEY WILL GRIND THEIR TEETH AND DREAM OF NARROW ENCLOSED SPACES.  MAYBE THEY WON�T.  BUT I CAN ONLY TURN TO THE NEWS NET FOR A FEW SECONDS BEFORE THE REVULSION BEGINS TO WORM ITS WAY PAST MY TONSILS, BEFORE I FEEL THE BURGEONING VOMIT BEGIN TO FLOW AND SWALLOW LAMELY.  THE IMPENDING  PUKE AS I SEE HOW WE ARE MANIPULATED. 
ONCE I WANTED TO BE THE �IT� MAN IN MEDIA.   I KNEW I HAD MY FINGER ON THE PULSE.  I WOULD BE A MAJOR PLAYER, A NETWORK EXEC.   THE MAN.   
YEAH�AND I WOULD CHOKE ON THE EMPTINESS INSTEAD OF THE BILE I FEEL NOW.   I COULD TURN AWAY FROM THE EMPTY PROSPERITY OF THE BLOATED CAPITALISTS BUT I CANNOT TURN AWAY FROM THE HORROR OF A MEDIA TO STULTIFIED AND DAZZLED BY THE SPOTLIGHT TO CALL ATTENTION TO ITS LACK IN A WAY THAT COMPELS�
TOO WELL FED ON ITS OWN OFFAL TO BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS IT IN A WAY THAT WILL FORCE THE RANCHERS TO BRING REAL FOOD.

I CAN�T TURN AWAY FROM IT ANYMORE.  AND I HAVE SEEN THE PATTERN TOO MANY TIMES!

BUT ONCE UPON A TIME I WAS DETERMINED TO BECOME RICH.  I WAS GONNA BE THE RICHEST MAN ALIVE, THE HARDEST WORKING MAN IN SHOW BUSINESS.
I HAD SEVEN GREAT IDEAS BEFORE BREAKFAST.   I WAS FULL OF �IT�.   
YOU KNOW, WHEN A PRODUCER OR SIMILAR MOGUL SAYS, �HE�S GOT �IT��?  WELL, I WAS FULL OF �IT�.
THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO.  SCREW IT NOW.
I SAW THE OTHER SIDE, I SAW SEVERAL OTHER ARTISTS IN THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY WHO HAD �IT GET SO MUCH �SUCCESS� THAT THEY BECAME DERIVATIVE POP DISPENSERS.  A COUPLE DIED HORRIBLE TRAGIC DEATHS.
AND AS I DEVELOPED MY OWN ARTISTIC PROCESS, I CONTINUALLY WOULD ENCOUNTERED GENIUSES � MAKING ART THAT JUST BLEW ME AWAY!  ABSOLUTELY NO DESIRE FOR PROFIT.
THEY COULDN�T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT MONEY.  AND THEIR WORK WAS CONSCIOUS, FLOWING, BEAUTIFUL!  AND FULL OF LOVE!  AND FULL OF LOVE.  OBVIOUS LOVE.   THEY HAD SOMETHING THE NETWORKS AND MEDIA CONGLOMERATES COULDN�T TOUCH.  A VIRTUE, AN INTEGRITY�
I HAD A THEORY THAT THE GREATEST ARTISTIC WORKS OF HISTORY COULD ALL BE REFLECTED, THAT GRAFITTI REFLECTED CAVE PAINTNGS AND THAT I COULD WORK FOREVER BY�
--BY CHOOSING A CLASSICAL WORK AND REVISING AND REFLECTING IT TO A MODERN AUDIENCE.
ONE DAY A TITLE CAME INTO MY HEAD.
THERE ARE SO MANY TITLES THAT GO��THE (BLANK) OF THE (BLANK)�.  
THE LORD OF THE RINGS, THE TAMING OF THE SHREW, THE FATE OF THE EARTH AND SO ON�THESE ARE MERELY EXAMPLES.
I SUDDENLY REALISED I HAD A TITLE IN MIND:  THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.   

SO I THOUGHT ABOUT IT.

WHAT WAS IT ABOUT?  WHAT WAS THE STORY?
AT FIRST I THOUGHT IT WAS ABOUT MONEY, AND WHAT IT DOES TO PEOPLE, OR WHAT IT CAN DO.
And I toyed with it.   Face it, Halley, I said to myself, this is a blockbuster of a title.   Epic!  Imaging the filthy lucre!
Yeah, I was getting off on myself, until Kathleen died.
She died, my partner in crime, my would-be co-star, my significant other.
And you know�mourning�the world goes away temporarily�what did I care about?  Without you, Kathleen, this is all just a nasty mess with little point.  There�s not a currency printed on Earth that can restore you from the ashes, my dove, my darling, my femme fatale.  You are ashes and history and newsprint clippings and memories now�and you went out hard.
I learned my hatred of capitalism from Kathleen, all the time in a drowsy state�a state of gradual acceptance that did not strike me until you immolated yourself, my only true love.
You left me without your poetry, without your sweet love, without your dancing legs�what can I do now?
Yeah, I could do it.  I could go back into overtime drudge mode right now. In a hot second  I�m back on camera, I�m back in the studio, in the conference rooms�

You left your simple note:  THIS SYSTEM MUST GO-
AND JUST LIKE THAT THE WHOLE OF THE GLAMOUR, THE RICHES, THE ACCLAIM, IT IS EMPTY, IT IS HOLLOW, IT IS ONLY BASED IN THE VILEST LOVELESS SUCKING GREED, IT IS UTTER NOTHINGNESS.   
EMPTY PEOPLE LIVING FOR A BUCK, THEIR LIVES DOMINATED BY THOSE INSIDIOUS LITTLE GREEN MEN, THOSE DEAD SLAVEOWNERS, THEY OWN MORE SLAVES THAN EVER NOW.  WASHINGTON HIMSELF OWNS BILLIONS MORE SLAVES THAN EVER COULD HAVE SHUCKED AND JIVED ATOP MOUNT VERNON.  NO MORE.   FOR YOU AND FOR THE REST OF US SUFFERING PEOPLE I AM THINKING ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.  I THOUGHT ABOUT IT, I�M THINKING ABOUT IT, AND I WILL THINK ABOUT IT.
BECAUSE IT IS THERE, IN MY ATTIC.  ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY THREE PAGES OF THE TIGHTEST FICTION I COULD MUSTER.  IT WILL SIT THERE, IN THE PLASTIC BAGS, IN THE LOCK BOX, IN THE SAFE, IN THE ATTIC, UNTIL IT ROTS TO POWDER.  NOT ONE SINISTER, GLASSYEYED MULTIMEDIA EGG SUCKER WILL MAKE A STINKING LOUSY CENT OFF OF MY LOVE FOR YOU, KATHLEEN.  MAY THEY PUT OUT PAP UNTIL SOCIETY CHOKES, I CAN�T STOP THEM.
THEY HAVE NO RESPECT FOR THE AMATEUR BECAUSE THE VERY ROOT OF THAT WORD IS SOMETHING THEY BALDLY AND OBVIOUSLY LOATHE UNLESS IT CAN BE SHACKLED AND PROSTITUTED.  AMO, AMAS, AMAT, BUT FOR THE CAPITALISTS, A THING TO BE USED AND DRAINED AND DISCARDED, IT�S ALL OVER YOUR BEAUTIFUL EARTH, KATHLEEN, AND THE ONLY THING THAT COULD STOP THEM DIED WITH YOU.
Only your love was unconditional, my darling.  Only your love was pure.  And even I, I was deaf to your insistent pleas, my ears packed full with the wax of possible glory, of an empty fame that I now, too late, revile utterly.
Instead�instead of giving the greedy ones the satisfaction of stealing and profiting from my love for you, I will just THINK ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.  BECAUSE IT IS NOT ABOUT KATHLEEN ANYMORE, KATHLEEN CHANG IS GONE, OFF LIKE A PROM DRESS.   NOW IT IS ABOUT REALLY WATCHING THE BASTARDS GO DOWN.   
WHAT A MESS THEY HAVE MADE OF THE EARTH!
SUCH A MESS�SUCH A MESS WE HAVE MADE.
�WE�
SUCH A MESS THAT IT MADE ME SICK.
AND SLOWLY THE BARRIERS BETWEEN MYSELF AND IT FADED AND DISAPPEARED AND I WAS SUDDENLY A MESS THAT MADE MYSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE SICK.
I WAS CAUSING PAIN AND FEELING PAIN AND HAD BITTEN OFF MORE THAN I COULD CHEW.  THERE WAS LITTLE I COULD DO.  I HAD SO BEEN SO FULL OF BULLSHITAND LIES FOR SO LONG THAT THE TINY TRUTH WITHIN ME PALEDNEXT TO THE TOWRING SIGNIFICANCE OF MY IGNORANCE�TOO LATE REALISED.  I COULD PRETEND THATUNCONDITIONAL LOVE COULD SAVEUS ALL FROM A HORRIBLE DEATH,I COULD REPEAT IT OVER AND OVER TOMYSELF BUT IT WOULD JUST FAIL.I WAS OVERWHELMED BY MY OWNGUILTY DISHONESTY AND NOW ALLTHE TRUTH IN THE WORLD WASDAMNING ME TO A HELL THATIT SEEMED I COULD NOT ESCAPE.   I LIVED IN IT AND SAW NOTHINGBETTER FOR ME WHEN I DIED.
A PRETENSE!  MY IDEAS THAT UNCONDITIONALLOVE COULD SAVE ME, SAVE US ALL, WOULDJUST�
SO I KEPT THINKING ABOUTTHE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS.
I JUST KEPT IMAGING THIS PEACEFUL WORLDWHEN EVERYONE STOPPED RUINING THINGS�
I THOUGHT ABOUT THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERSAS IF IT WOULD BE THE ULTIMATE END OF TYRANNY.  NO RETURN. DONE WITH AND DONE TO.
A TRANSMUTATION, AN ALCHEMICAL TRANSMUTATION BASE ON ELEMENTS I AM YET TO SUCCESSFULLY IDENTIFY.
I TURNED STRAIGHT TOWARDS THOSE DARK EMOTIONS AND LET IT GO FULL STEAM BECAUSE IT IS NOT ABOUT TURNING AWAY FROM THOSE DARK EMOTIONS, BUT, THROUGH A SORT OF GRADUAL AND INTUITIVE ALCHEMY, TRANSMUTING THEM.
TRANSMUTING THE RAGE AND POTENTIAL VIOLENCE OF THE URBAN STREETS.  TRANSMUTING THE FEAR AND ALIENATION OF THE COUNTRYSIDE AND THE RURAL SECTORS.
TRANSMUTING IT--  THE GRIEF AND PAIN IN THE BUSINESS OFFICESSES AND THE HEARTS OF THE CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICERS.  (once they were tiny babies, these monsters of society, their mouths, their tiny hearts scremed out for mother...it took a while to beat that longing down, to bend them into more cowed and mercenary forms...)
TRANSFORMING THE FROZEN, AND INJURED LITTLE BOY INSIDE THE PRESIDENT.  THE VICE PRESIDENT AND HIS IRONIC, ICONIC HEART PROBLEM -- WHAT WOULD SELF-LOVE, LOVE OF OTHERS -- DO FOR HIM -- DO FOR US ALL?
TRANSFORMING THESE WAR-BENT MILITARY AND POLITICAL FIGURES IN INTO PEOPLE WHO LOVED THEMSELVES.
THESE STOCK VILLIANS HAVE HAD THEIR ASSES KICKED FOR TOO LONG!  THEIR POSITION AS BUMBLING BAD GUYS WHO GET BEAT DOWN BY "RIGHTEOUS" HEROES ISN'T SAVING OUR PLANET.  A BROKEN RECORD,  SKIPPING AND SKIPPING.

Now kathleen, my love, you are gone, elsewhere, will I come and join you?  
I imagine you are in that "better place" the euphemistic and optimistic say thatthe dead have gone; do I  even deserve to go there?  i miss you like a craving, Kathleen my willowy love...
You are gone and nothing really tastes good.  Everything, chocolate, coffee, cigarets, tastes like that which would have been sweet in a world that you lived in...now something is missing, like i woke up one morning and the Gods had decidd that there would be no more orange, no more semisweet...you were everything to me...now you are ashes and sweet memories of dancing, sweet memories of hours spent in love...you are so gone...the river i could cry, will that bring you back?   I miss you to much, I  can feel my heart straining to hold back, the grief, my love...
Once this wonderful magic elfin being, this true thing in a cardboard universe showed up, she walked down the stairs and i was gone, Flatland was boring because I  had met a whole person.  A few years, a secret love affair, some dances...ah yes, some dances, eh, Kathleen?  

Damn them and their system!   You knew, your eyes were the true eyes of a woman who could see.  You knew so much more, so much more than them or me...
now what do I have?  Sarcasm, the razor's edge.  The empty space where you danced in my heart...
Oh, yeah...I know what I have, now.   I have less, actually, you took something away, when you gave me your unconditional love, and support, and trust...when we danced and my hand was on your hip you gave me something i needed, and took away my anger...
I don't hate them anymore...they aren't my enemies, they are just fools.  they need love, you saw that so well.  Only love can save us now,  only unconditional, total love can save us all from what you saw.
ONLY UNCONDITIONAL LOVE CAN MAKE THEM ABANDON THEIR POSTS, ABANDON THEIR WEOPONS AND FALL, WEEPING, OVERCOME WITH LOVE THEY NEVER REALISED BEFORE, TO THE EARTH THEY SUDDENLY RECOGNISE AS LOVE, AND MOTHER, AND HOME.
THE FALL OF THE PRIME MOVERS IS A STORY I WILL NEVER WRITE.  IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE, LOVE ON A GRAND SCALE.  
I WILL NOT SEE ONE RED CENT OF PROFIT.
"Not one."

3.I dissolve in order to equalise, releasing opportunity.