MrMary Muses: The Nature of Time, Horny Frenchman and The Doors


( I wrote this a few days ago but just got around to posting it today)

Sometimes I like to give into my musings. Today I like to imagine that time in actuality an illusion that the there is no link or continuity between the disparate events that constitute at best a snap shot of the ever expanding universe. You might ask how can one live in a world without causality, and  before I get into that I must remind you that causality does not mean a lack of historical personal and sociological accountability. A world without causality is a world where we have to admit that reason, and the logical recapitulation of fact doesn’t always lead us to the truth. A world without causality is one where we have to accept that there may exist some sort of relationship between two or more events that are beyond our per and con-ception.

It is a lovely day dream when you think about it and also how far from reality this is.

Today suddenly for no reason I decided to take a long winded and completely inefficient path to get to work. That challenge in a sense the nature of causality for me and I would like to set the scene for you. I got off at the World Trade center station on the Path train and took my time to get out of the car and up the stairs to what seem to be an and endless escalator. I had the best of The Doors in rotation on my iPod and of course LA woman was playing and the following ensues:

Just when I make it to the escalator a woman rushes past me up the stairs. I take a step down not, and lean to one side not to bump into her and from three steps up in front of me I am beholden the world’s biggest ass; the word callipygian came into existence for moments such as this. For some reason, she happens to have everything I need, long hair, brown eyes, heels. And the song goes plays:

[4:55 -5:53]

Mr. Mojo Risin‘, Mr. Mojo Risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’, Mr. Mojo Risin’
Got to keep on risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’, Mr. Mojo Risin’
Mojo Risin’, gotta Mojo Risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’, gotta keep on risin’
Risin’, risin’
Gone risin’, risin’

We get to the top of the escalator and she takes off. It has always been a theory of mine that people who are cognizant of the fact that they are aesthetically pleasing tend to walk faster and do things in a more hurried fashion because of an exaggerated sense of sense importance but that’s neither here nor there.  I am surprised to find myself at the base of the new World Trade Center Building. I saw the two towers go down during 9/11 from Brooklyn.

2013-08-26 13.27.06

[6:20 – 6:30]

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow

I completely ignore the need to get to work and look around and I see movement everywhere around me. I am brought back to my readings of Camus only trip in NYC:

2013-08-26 13.32.32

Manhattan.  Sometimes from beyond the skyscrapers, across the hundreds of thousands of high walls, the cry of a tugboat finds you in your insomnia in the middle of the night, and you remember that this desert of iron and cement is an island.

I cannot forget to the writing of Celine on New York City:

The morose aloofness of the men on the street above was equaled only by the air of liberation and rejoicing that came over them at the prospect of emptying their bowels in tumultuous company.

There is a strange and constant moving in NYC that reminds me of the opening lines of Baudelaire poem that T. S Elliot. I love Baudelaire a crazy alcoholic Frenchman who loves poetry and had an appetite for whores.

Les Sept vieillards

Fourmillante cité, cité pleine de rêves,
Où le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant!
Les mystères partout coulent comme des sèves
Dans les canaux étroits du colosse puissant.

Teeming, swarming city, city full of dreams,
Where specters in broad day accost the passer-by!
Everywhere mysteries flow like the sap in a tree
Through the narrow canals of the mighty giant.

See here’s the thing

The reason why I am listening to the doors, the fact that almost to the day 30 years ago they stepped into the studio to record their first album, The modern day Ἀφροδίτη Καλλίπυγος (Aphrodite Kallipygos)  and Mr Mojo rising all these things are are not in any way disparate or separate from each other. They sit with us in one continuous pool and it us to the perspicacity of our minds to make the connections. Any where we looks there are an infinite number of meaningful connection. All the experiences of my life all the things I’ve read and the people I met are here right now Time is both as fictitious as it is real, as am I. I’m both a real person and character of the memories of the many people I have come across. In those peoples mind, the character I am represents something, some unique way life as they see it articulates itself.

As I get in the vicinity of my to work the song Road house Blues is playing. I work in  tall ominous building that is as foreboding as any building can be. The building given it height and clearly post modern architectural style is full of windows and funnily enough my office has no windows. The irony doesn’t stop there  most of the people I work with do not notice the swarming city full of dreams below, they are so neutered they don’t even remember their own dreams beyond work and wages

I am about to cross the threshold and as the leave the city behind I think about that lady from before and have recourse to do but swear some obscenities and listen to these words that accompany me through the lobby up the elevator and to my desk:

[2:42 – 4:06]

Ashen lady, Ashen lady
Give up your vows, give up your vows
Save our city, save our city
Right now

Well, I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer
Well, I woke up this morning, and I got myself a beer
The future’s uncertain, and the end is always near

Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, all night long

BTW

PS I should report that the band The Doors took their name from Huxley’s book The Doors of Perception written in 1954 detailing his experiences using mescaline and Huxley took the title of his book from the quote by William Blake:

“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.”

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s