I am just a lonely blogger in the South Australia culture-desert

I lie in bed with a lover in my arms.

I am listening to Hildeberg von Bingen's miraculously beautiful "Voice of the Blood".

I read, aloud, to my mind, to alert it to the possibilities, that:

"Mutation does not happen by accident, it happens to those who put themselves in the position and place where maximum possibilities for change can occur, after that it's just a matter of Bonne Chance."

What mutation is possible in South Australia? NONE. But here is instead the kind of recapitulation of the past, through the English-stable domesticity of the Place, which I am experiencing with my dual-book project.

For I am writing two books at once. The nonfiction "History of Excellence" and the fictional affirmation of the Gaia concept, now titled "The Biotech Age." I am making gradual progress in the work, seminal as I have faith it may be.

But a time will come when it is up and onwards. And where will I go then?

It depends, is the simple answer. Can I master survival here? Can I play that role to perfection, and then transcend it? I heartily wish so, for otherwise a trip to Shanghai would be a living hell on earth, and a long migratory entrapment in Perth would be a sleep away from the sense of history's violent forward passage...


Short Sonet 2 The Veild Lady of Truth:
I must not sleep,
I must not wake,
I must not pretend,
I must not be present.

I must not pray for mercy;
I must not be saved.
I must not become enlightened,
I must not stay and help others be enlightened.

I must not vanish nor appear.
I must not acknowledge,
Nor resign, nor reckon,
Guage, measure, or ration out, myself.

I must not intuit, above all,
I must not intuit the truth.