Two Worlds Touch Here: The End of Cormac McCarthy’s Border Trilogy

Cover of

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“Two worlds touch here. You think men have power to call forth what they will? Evoke a world, awake or sleeping? Make it breathe and then set out upon it figures which a glass gives back or which the sun acknowledges? Quicken those figures with one’s own joy and despair? Can a man be so hid from himself?

You call forth the world God has formed and that world only. Nor is this life of yours by which you set such store your doing. However you may choose to tell it.

Our decisions do not have some alternative. We may contemplate a choice, but we pursue one path only.”

Cormac McCarthy speaking through the Mexican drifter at the end ofCities of the Plain

He is speaking of dreams, but also about the creative process behind writing fiction, or is he talking about being a fictional character. Or are we all just a minor players in God’s great novel. It is a well written book, but the story of the dream as told by the Mexican drifter to the aging main character at the end of the book was difficult to follow, and I am sure meant as a commentary on the connection between fiction and life, dreams and life, all human endeavor. I will have to go back and read it again, maybe in a month or two to see if I can pull more out of it. It is quite packed with juicy ideas.

Of the three books in the border trilogy I liked the second, “The Crossing“, the best. It  was consistently compelling throughout.  I felt as if I was well within the skin the main character, and at the end I sat alone in the rain and cried. At the end of this one I was left with a big question mark. I think something important was there, but I am still not sure.

As always McCarthy’s crisp and literate prose is a joy to read. Whenever I read one of his books, I feel like I know more about the English language and how to use it to it’s best advantage.

Posted in Check this out, Dreamtime, Fiction, mindworks, Other peoples words, Questions and riddles, thinking in words | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Three Quotes: Art, Music, and Modern Culture

“The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.”
– Frida Kahlo

This is what I aspire to in art and music, my ideal. She lived her life like a work of art. Her art is so visceral, a naked wire connecting her to the world and whoever views her work back to her life. She is the epitome of a truly artistic soul.

 

 

“Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.” – Miles Davis

A true pioneer thinks about what could exist, and what is in the world that is waiting to be found. He was a difficult and often contentious person, but his music was always and still is a step in a direction nobody else has taken. I listen to Live/Evil and Bitches Brew now and it still seems fresh and raw that it could bleed. His 50’s and early 6o’s work with Coltrane, Monk and Hancock are amazingly fresh. Someone said that what made Louis Armstrong great was the notes he didn’t play, his choice of notes along with the power and passion he put into the notes he did play, but Miles took it into a new place so cool. Louis Armstrong made jazz a path; Miles followed that path into a cool new country where all directions are possible. Jazz is still there.

 

 

“Popular opinion is the greatest lie in the world”– Carlyle

This quote seems more true today than at any other time in human history. I am not sure which Carlyle said or wrote this (there are several to choose from) but it was too good to pass up on account of that. If anybody knows or finds out, please leave a comment.

Posted in Check this out, make your own world, music, my museum of inspiration, Other peoples words, thinking in words | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

River of Dreams #42: The End/Beginning

Final Chapter

The Beginning of Another Story

Emmylou was the first one wake, her mind full of the events that seemed more a dream than what had just faded from her mind as she came awake. She stretched cautiously and crossed to the window looking out on the flattened  Porsche. It looked like a bug hit with a fly swatter, juices leaking in dark stains amid the puddles and debris.

That really happened, she thought and then thought of Larry. She threw a robe on and walked quickly to the room across the hall and, opening the door just wide enough to peer in with one eye, she was relieved to see him sleeping deeply with a healthy color to his face. She went quietly down the stairs. Maddie lay sprawled on her back, arms spread and snoring loudly. Jered was slumped in the ancient overstuffed arm chair of an undeterminable color. His face held the look of someone without regrets, like a child who has spent all of his energy in frantic and curious games, finally stops and falls instantly asleep. She moved into the kitchen thinking, I don’t know these people. Even Random has changed so much that I have no idea who he is now.

She bustled about starting water for coffee and tea. Then a thought floated into her mind like a black bird in a brilliant blue sky. Essie will have to come and live with me. She needs to be here. The thought pleased her, imagining sharing the house with someone she didn’t know, little by little filling in the blanks. I wonder what will come next?

Random woke from the feeling of being a world into the world of his body that was next to Essie’s body. He drew her close and put his face in her dark thick hair. What next? He thought as she made little sounds of contentment. He looked at the wall where the snake mouth tunnel had been and saw a wall. He looked at the blue sky of morning through the window in the opposite wall. What next?

When everyone was awake, they all sat around the table in the kitchen. Emmylou stood cooking the last of the bacon. Larry sat with his leg propped as Essie examined the wounds.

“Eet don’ look too bad,” She swabbed the clean holes with antibiotic. “I wonder eef dream wolves have dream germs.”

“I just don’t ever want to have any beasts teeth in me dream type or real world they feel about the same I’m thinkin’.”

“I’m just glad they weren’t trying to kill you,” Emmylou said without turning.

“Not more than I am.”

Emmy picked the last of bacon out of the pan, plopped it on the paper towel covered plate amongst the other gnarled pieces, and carried it to the table. She stopped across from Essie and said matter of factly, “You know you have to come here to live with me now.”

Essie drew back her face into a question.

“Somehow I’m supposed to just lose the end of this story. I need to know how our story turns out.”

“I would love to leev here,” she glanced hopefully at Random.

“I still have to work, but I could keep my apartment and only commute a few days a week.”

“You mean, you would be up here helpin’ Emmy with the ranch an’ I could come on the weekends and be the little sister you never had.”

“That would be nice,” Essie said smiling and touching Maddie’s arm.

“Well, I am glad things are working out. I for one have had enough of all this interference from the beyond,“ Jered added.

“I guess you’ll be needing a lift into town.” Emmylou said in as casual a manner as she could manage.

“Yeah, that car out there isn’t  gonna get me very far.”

“I think my ride is shot, too.” Random said looking down at his plate. “Dream snakes are hell on cars.”

“I’ll need a ride to school, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Everyone will fit in the van. We need to go get Essie’s things and check her out of the motel.”

Later they all got in the van and headed into another story. Life goes on that way.

Posted in California, conversations, dangerous creatures, developing relationships, Dreamtime, Fiction, House and home, mindworks, NaNoWriMo, novel projects, River of Dreams, the end is the beginning | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Built To Spill

Doug Martsch performing with the band @ Primav...

Image via Wikipedia

My youngest son and I went to see and hear Built To Spill at the Showbox last night (the only all ages show). Doug Martsch is a true mad genius of rock. He and the band are all business on stage like sound sculptors working real time in front of the audience. They are serious about the madness of the music. At one point Martsch came out with an acoustic guitar and did some off the wall blues renditions of 3 of his songs, very basic folk style over the top of some complex musical and lyrical ideas as well as a deft slide. This is a man who thinks about music and then plays it from his soul. The final number went from a complex rock poem to a wall of  woven noise in which all three guitarists spun a thread. I am not completely sure it was music but my mind and body were so engrossed in it that it didn’t matter.


Le Fleur opened with their interesting blend of high energy music. I would like to hear more of their music live. 50 minutes is not long enough. Ivy Meissner has an infectious energy and plays a mean bass. The whole band is very polished with some interesting musical ideas. Beyond all that they seem to be enjoying themselves on stage. Nice to see musicians who take joy in their craft.

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River of Dreams #41: Becoming the Dream

Chapter 21

Together Into the Dream

A ragged crash and shattering glass wrenched Essie and Random out of the daze they had fallen into in each other’s arms. They squinted through the dimness to where the window used to be and saw a deep oval shadow.

“Swallow me,” the thought winked in Essie’s mind like a neon motel sign. “Follow me,” it winked again.

“We’ve got to go!”

Essie jumped up peeling Random’s arms away frantically.

He shook his thoughts loose, and rose more slowly. She pulled him up toward what she began to realize was the giant snake’s mouth which had at attached itself to the side of the house like the rolling dock to the side of a 747.

“Eet ees the snake.” Essies said flatly eyes wide with the knowledge of where they were headed.

“Oh, no! I’m not going in there!” Random pulled back.

“We have no choice, Carida !” Essie pulled him along toward the tooth bordered passage, 3 inch daggers neatly spaced catching bits of light. “Eet is the only way to the tree. We must get to the tree. I know eet now.”

“I don’t know I feel like a walking meal.”

“Eet ees a dream snake. Eet looks like a snake, but it will not behave like a snake.”

They had to duck a little and step up over the teeth to enter. The floor was smooth and felt hard and smooth like burnished wood, and to their surprise slanted up twisting.

“It’s like a giant root tunnel,” Random noted feeling a little more confident with each step.

“I tink we don’ have much time!” Essie said as she began a slippery assent. Random followed closely.

Random and Essie came out of the tunnel

Bright scarlet, magenta, lemon colored, flowers flashed around them amid the huge leaves and arm thick vines clinging to smooth trunks of trees. To south where they headed dark clouds gathered ominously and thunder rumbled. They did not fear the rain, but arriving to late to complete the task that awaited them.

The path they ran on became riddled with twisting roots they slipped and slid as rain began to splat about them from thundering skies. Herds of immense obsidian clouds ran before gusts of wet wind and were broken among the upper branches of all encompassing tree. They both slipped and stumbled nearly sliding off of the slick root trail. They helped each other up, and in this way they went on for a long while. The root became thicker until they became 5 larger roots braided in twisting macramé knots and they had to climb over and around and then it became 3 huge roots and finally into 2 roots like the trunks of gargantuan trees parallel twisting away and back together all around them the wind pushed them at first from one side, then in front and then from behind like invisible hands. Then they saw through the mist of the rain, the trunk of valley filling tree a vague shadow looming in dimness. Bright sparks flickered off of the shining leaves whenever a flash of lightning snaked across the sky.

The two roots merged into one and they moved as along it holding each other. They mad slow but steady progress in the chaos of wind, water and now tangled branches. They glimpsed flower buds like people-sized green eggs perched on the lower branches when the wind moved the glittering leaves out of the way.

Essie was wondering how they would get up into the tree, the trunk was at least a hundred yards wide at the base, maybe there would be a way to climb or steps or vines she could not tell. They were too far away.

Random held tight and followed his senses overwhelming any thoughts that might enter his mind.

A gust of wet wind hit and swept them up shattering their dream bodies into rain, driving them toward the low branches, swirling up through the huge golden leaves. Their atomized bodies mixed with each other and the storm, rising on the air. Suddenly they were falling into an enormous open white shimmering flower as the buds began to open.

The borders of their bodies, skin, muscle, bone, nerves ceased to exist. Random whole being became liquid and flowing and one with water and Essie and flower. He couldn’t see but feel the light. All was vague feelings of being. He could feel Essie but there was no knowledge of names or who he was, or how he was separate from the flower, the water or Essie. They were without individuality mixed and poured through the flower into the heart of the flower where they were infused with the energy of light and immediately created the pressure of growth, explosion of life out into a shell of fruit and seed. There was no time in the process. All happened in second or month or years. There was no one to tell. A flower, water person has no time. The fruit burst forth in a shimmering sphere like a soap bubble creature hands and feet appeared out of the mass. Head, eyes, nose mouth and the rhythmic thump of a heart. The creature looked out at the tree and the dream world with the eyes of Random/Essie/Water/Flower and something more ancient and innocent than any of these. It could see the tree at the beginning and end and the energy of the tree and all that flowed in and out of the tree from the light and air.

Posted in conversations, Dreamtime, Flying and Falling, mindworks, Mythical and mysterious, NaNoWriMo, novel projects, River of Dreams, Telling Stories | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment