Meet Max Origen

There are two longings in the likes of me. One is swarthy and one is worthy.

The swarthy one, the one of darkness, is the longing for wonder and ecstasy This longing pours out of a place that has no words or desire for them. It is inchoate bliss. It is non-reified, insubstantial. In and of itself, this desire is strong beyond telling. Yet in any attempted holding of it, it crumbles like a silverfish or pops like a bubble.

There is no more worthy nemesis of the swarthy than the worthy. The worthy is the desire for connection, for sharing, for being part of and one with. It feels into the belly of the other -— friends, enemies, or strangers — to learn the language required for the docking maneuver. It develops audiovisual aids, props, whatever it takes, to cross the synapse, to bring the data home, to build the bridge. E. M. Forster says it best: "Only connect."

As I sat between the poles of my swarthy and worthy desires, a miracle unfolded. A synthesis emerged that hugged these antithetical desires without obliterating either one or the other.

This miracle was what could have been seen as a very ordinary event. I simply received a virtual message. This message has heralded a new possibility of fulfillment. Perhaps both longings could be and could be filled simultaneously. Perhaps there could be a point of union including both desires.

Enough of my verbiage. I have decided to share with you the message itself. No other words are necessary for me, at least not here and now.

The message was as follows:

Mr. Origen claims not to need anonymity, but my attempts to contact him have failed utterly.

Any information regarding his whereabouts or intentions are welcome, especially if they originate from him.

— Rx is the FloridaW eekly muse who hopes to inspire profound mutiny in all those who care to read. Our Rx ma y be wearing a pir ate cloak of in visibility, but emanating fr om within this shado w is hope that readers will feel free to respond. Who kno ws: You may e ven inspir e the muse. Make contact if you dare.

My dear Rx, medicine man sublime,

May I be so bold as to write to you, man to man, about myself ?

I have a sense of you as a person in deep dilemma, stretched between opposing desires. You write from out of shadows that you create and hate and love. You beat words into weapons, then ploughshares. You daringly stretch over chasms you have fashioned yourself.

And until now I have merely observed. Not out of indifference, but out of respect I can no longer be silent. After all you have not been silent I propose to turn your intra-view into an int er-view. I can be your co-author. And I do not ha ve to be anonymous. I can thr ow down my gauntlet with no mask required.

I began this note with a request to write about myself. But then I only gave my accounting of you.

This is not an accident. I f ind in you a soul br other, a mirror image.

I would like you to know that words are not necessary between us. But our words together can be like confetti streaming from the mountain top, pieces to rain down both information and what is beyond information.

I can say what you can only think.

And I have written a poem for Musings:

"In Praise

A tripod is less

Than ménage a trois,

And mooring:

miniscule.

radial.

exactness.

But I love the clarity of velvet

Under dark eye fingers

And the leakage subsequent."

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Let me know.

Max Origen