Albion, Art, Books, Trickster

No time…

***

Ironic… Too in this age of travel restrictions… Why, we may wonder… Has the emphasis suddenly shifted… From travel as the key to universal citizenship… To travel a no no?… The answers to these… mass media imponderables… Are uncomfortable in the extreme… And have nothing whatsoever to do with safety… Any way… Mark is still on the dance floor… Strutting his stuff… To Penny’s eternal delight… Unfortunately, the Man Friday post… Is still just as far away as ever… Was it a dream… Or did it really happen… And can this faulty memory be relied upon to give us any sort of reasonable clue?

***

More imponderables… But of the mass of me type… The eye can travel… Without physical movement… Of any kind whatsoever… But that is not why the restrictions were implemented… Ask any former occupant of any of the Communist States… And they will tell you… That’s how it always starts… The stepping stones… Of tyranny… Mog should now have retired… But still no word… The problem with wage slavery… When it is finally removed… Even after only half a life time of service… The stick is missed… And what does that say… About our … Oh, so very, very, advanced civilisation?

***

Orson on Fakery… Was instructive… But followed by the fakery… Of the Ten o’ Clock… News was almost too much to bear… Especially when the viewers of one… Cannot fathom the other… Cast in precisely the same light… It is a modern day tragedy… Played out before our very eyes… On a daily basis… Will the Sob’s ever meet again?… It is more than a distinct possibility… But not for awhile… And until then… Our train of time… And memory… Will have to remain idle… The faded tunes… From a dilapidated nite-club… Drifting from gaps in its creaky doors… Such a pity for something once there.

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