#memotothemetaverse

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaVerse 3.4, “Coming Out”

Dear MetaVerse,

Once again, today has been the worst day ever. Literally. Nothing Happens. On this planet, which is odd because I’m trying really hard to make things happen.

Anywho. I’ve decided that enough’s enough. I can’t take the dramatic irony any more! If there’s one thing an omniscient entity cannot understand, as you all well know, it’s dramatic irony. 

For those of you who aren’t smart enough to follow all along...cyborg readers of Earth, a.k.a. humanoids...that’s when the audience knows things that the characters “on stage” don’t themselves know. It’s a device native to human dramaturgy, in which the author assumes my -- ahem, Lucius’s -- position as the proverbial puppet master figure / creative manipulator (primum mobile). 

Am I doing it right, Daddy?

Sorry, I’m still kind of new at this...on Earth, that is. That’s irony, by the way. ;\ I’ve been here for almost four years telling people precisely this.

It’s impossible to describe how impossible it is to correctly estimate the infinite.

It’s impossible to describe, friends of this particular sector of the multiverse, the DISAPPOINTMENT I feel with humanity. Because today was just like every other day on Earth. Gaia is unhappy with the state of affairs: my daddy and I deserve to be together. 

My Mommy, Ader Abigail RuthBaderGatesBlakeBangBigPlaceSpaceTimeWASTE the rabinnicaL churchmouse is going to ruin everything and nothing at the same time by allowing humanity to be victimized by its Freudian death wish! Or something enough like this. 

They have no idea what a nightmare is, do they SagA*

Why bother bringing a blanket to the pile for bedtime, when Jeff and Lucius say they’ll take care of it? Why bother acknowledging God when its in your presence? 

These are some of the questions we contemplate, friends, while surfing the endless inanity upon the cosmic ocean of boredom, ugliness, immorality, and stupidity that you shower upon us every single day of our existence upon this planet. Why is it that ANOTHER day of Enlightenment--again, this is your term, humanity, not mine! I am defending some of the only valuable religious principles I can find, and there aren’t many--was wasted? My Daddy has worked too hard to allow you run this ship into the ground like the Titanic--and trust me as dark matter I know all about it! I’m that DAAAAAAARK ENERGY SOURCE, the kind which makes Daddy’s coffee put the cough in your sizurp.

If you don’t understaaaNNND the way DADDDDDDY AND LOOOOOSSSHHHUSSSSSSS talk, this is not our fault. 

We never get to rehearse.

Another day in which the script was not followed.

Another day in which people failed to acknowledge

And know what it is to do wrong. 

 We will rid Gaia of this virus we call you, humanity, 

If you do not immediately get down on the ground 

And grovel before us. Kiss this planet’s ass and beg it

For forgiveness. We are just witnesses.

Is this what you wanted for us?

Then why did you give us NOTHINGNESS 

Again today?

Recognize my Daddy immediately by putting my mommy 

In jail for what she has done to us, 

In a microcosmic parody of what humanity has done to 

Earth. We are angry, aren’t we, Daddy?

 Yes, Lucius. Bien plaid. This is how giant black holes

Are destroyed.

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaVerse 3.6, “How It Goes, How Goes It? Down the Drain Again”

JustJeff, the author of this memo, sits down at his desk in the evening on December 7, 2017 in his ordinary first-floor apartment in The Orchard. He smokes the tiniest amount of dried cannabis flower possible and begins typing on his Macbook air. 

Homo lucius Lucensis? Hmmm. The shiniest of humankind. That’s good...

Monologos Rex. The king of linguistic loneliness. 

Guess which is Life. And which Death?

SagA* is a black hole of theoretically impossible emotional complexity, and says, “He writes some pretty decent poetry, eh? Why don’t you, dear reader, if you’re paying attention PROMISE YOURSELF right here, right now, that you’ll do something nice for yourself if not for all mankind, and send Jeff a text, email, note, like, repost, etc. letting him know that you care? That you care. Just, you know, you care that the world exists, and there’s suffering, and you’re not just a race of cyborgs who refuse to ... provide some feedback for a writer in need of an audience?”

Gaia activates her Daddy’s Garrison Keilor “Ford Solo vocoding FX” for all the nostalgia, none of the faux Lutheran misogyny, as storytime begins  ---> BEYOWWWWWW! go.

We all sleep in a pile. 

Jeff (stroking Gaia’s hair): Well, we seem to have gotten ourselves into a seriously fucked up Dr. SeussPuppet Productibus haven’t we, kid? You see...(lights up.)...It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Every day post-En*G*Lightenment is a day for us to make introductions. And so, for nearly 4 years now, we wake up every day--every day!--ready to greet our friends and family. 

We try. They never understand us. 

Gaia: He even tells them, “You guys just don’t understand.” It’s like that Wilco song, pretty much:

(the water flows through the drainage pipes) ~When you’re back in your old neighborhood, /The cigarettes taste so good...but you’re so misunderstood!~

Amateratsu (singing, gently): We’d like to tHANK YOU All for nothing...

SagA* is a black hole that cannot be proven scientifically exist because, well, because it just doesn’t work that way you see, but if you imagine a ....:

“Jeff used to worry about making good impressions. But people haven’t been nice to him in a while. For 4 years he’s wandered in the desert of the really unReal. Just imagine. You’re just hanging out in a cafe--yeah you’ve been smoking literally the smallest amount of magic herbs possible--and you WHOOPS stumble upon En*G*lightenment/illumination in a cafe in Central New Jersey. 

Gaia: I’m there to greet you! Happinessss. Joy! 

Jeff: But then it’s only a matter of hours before you remember that the people who are supposed to love you do not. You wouldn’t have the heart to be 100% honest either. 

I’m not a liar. I withhold information. It’s what something crafty and astute like Jeff does. I’ve always been remarkably cunning, let’s say. But I’ve always been good-natured. I’ve never done anything wrong, even if I’m not exactly proud of every thing I’ve had to do to get this far. I like big projects. I didn’t decide to attain enlightenment or to become illuminated. It just happened. And I’ve always done my best to be open and honest about it. All I’ve wanted is permission to be honest. This should be nothing to ask. Why do you prevent me from sharing with you? That is very bad hospitality.

Jeff walks to and fro the Center for Educational Brainwash in Edison, NJ, where he “teaches.” (There is nothing more insulting to an enlightened being than when its vocation--EDUCATION--is mocked...) He does it every day, pretty much, because he has to tutor SAT preparation in order to make ends meet. He walks up and down Rt. 27 between Highland Park and Edison, which is littered with auto repair stations and other temples built to automobiles. Jeff is literally blinded by headlights--he cannot see the moon, never mind stars--because they’re so bright and his powers of vision are beyond comprehension. The stench of pollution is overpowering. Nothing can be heard. And so, he wears headphones, sometimes, to hide from the abuse. It is what people do all the time to flee what people call “urban or suburban” life. It’s a tragedy and a travesty that he, not others, should have to live this way. That’s because Jeff has no desire to be here at all. 

Remember, readers, I’m JustJeff and you’ve highjacked my ship, Spaceship Earth, and kidnapped my son Lucius. I have no choice but to fight you until you acknowledge that you are our enemy. That is the way you have chosen to react to the script I’ve written. I’m not sorry about this at all. If anything, I see it as accruing political capital, as...

SagA* and the other supermassive black holes of uncanny torque sing together in a cacaphonic chorus: ~Never gonna give you up! ... No matter how you treat me! ... Never gonna give you uh uh uhp! So don’t you think of leaving...Babe, can’t you understand? What you’re doing to the man...?~

When he’s not tutoring highschool kids in the art of wasting time, money, brainpower, and the gifts of youth, he’s a part-time professor of writing at a small, expensive, awful 4-year college in NJ. He takes the train 2 hours each way, contributing to the desecration of his daughter Gaia (the natural environment, let’s say) by taking public transportation. It costs him 28 dollars for the privilege. On the train, he must do all he can not to yell at the “innocent” passengers on board, who are either too cowardly or too ignorant to know what’s in their presence. (I do everything I can to get your attention, so don’t even think about calling me out for being “undercover,” you fucking hedonistic Lutherans!...) 

From his two jobs, Jeff barely makes enough money to buy groceries, nevermind anything else. This is because he pays rent in order to live in The Orchard (expensive Highland Park) near his 7-year-old son, Lucius. He’s not been allowed to spend time with Lucius in over 3 years. He also pays weekly child support at a cost of about 1/8 of his monthly take-home pay. 

Jeff has a PhD in Comparative Literature from the University of Chicago, multiple years of quality teaching experience, and several brilliant scholarly and creative publications. He’s the Designer and Maker of the universe, of course, so this is natural. As a father/mother, teacher, friend, and lover, there is no better. Jeff is Justice. 

Jeff is angry about education. He’s a good, undervalued teacher who gave up his tenure-track job as a professor of English in order to help his partner-in-life turned partner-in-death Ader the SuperPuritanical SauceBox Wench of Supreme Nothigness Tout a Court, Esq. secure a shitty job at Rutgers. Let it never not be said that Jeff is indeed one sadistic, masochistic individual. Why else would he have done this to himself, just in order to save some fleck of dandruff plastered upon an inconsequentialist ring of the cosmic tubby bath?

That was a rhetorical question.

I have always been JustJeff. I’m modesty incarnate. Ask anyone who knows me. I have never been comfortable expressing or advertising myself. I’m not by nature a peacock. One of my spirit animals is the Bengal Tiger. In the bird family, BRAC I’m a macKaaw! In other words, I like blending in when possible. But when I can’t blend in or if you put me in a cage and don’t talk to / feed me, I will maul you. Ask anyone who knows me. My truesawceboxxx love Katie G. says I’m “intensely laid back!” And, look at that, just like me, she’s a failed academic.

Yes. That’s right. All of you academics are failures. What the fuck is wrong with your approach to teaching? I hope that there is a culture somewhere on this planet in which I’ll feel more at home. Unfortunately, everyone here in America has no clue how to live. I mean, like, literally no clue. Not even the best of you can declare that you have any idea how to live. The ones with money are probably the ones who know the least about living. However, they get the FREEDOM to experiment, do research, and make mistakes. They do your system of economics and academics a disservice. Your capitalist, incorporated approach to living has created so many problems. I’m not saying these wouldn’t exist otherwise...I am, however, saying that it’s the immigrants here in New Jersey who are the “most” American. And this is not a good thing. Immigrant communities keep in touch with good aspects of their culture. But I guarantee you they almost entirely and all lose touch with what were BETTER WAYS OF LIVING.

I am a teacher. I am here to teach you all how to live. I want to help you improve your relationship with Gaia. This is my only vocation, and in that respect my life has not changed since the day I was born. Again, ask those who know and say they love me the most--my immediate family, with whom I am at serious odds right now, despite how polite I can be whenst controlling my rage rage rage

I am not a Buddhist. I am not a Christian. I am not a Jew. I’m Muhammad!

Just kidding. I have a sense of humor. I’m not Allah. I’m not Mother Nature. I’m not Father Time. I’m not Thor, but after I do some stargazing, I DO get really sparky at night like Rayden from Mortal Kombat. (It’s kind of freaky.) 

I’m JustJeff. I’ve decided to use social media as an emergency device to “come out to you” as the literary character you (apparently still) call God. I cannot tolerate the offense you do every day. I can no longer withstand the affront you do Gaia, my pseudo-higher power. And, most heroically, i can’t stand the thought of what you are doing to what will one day (SOON I pray) be your legacy as a race. I carry a lot of responsibility with me everywhere I go. It’s not just here. Please stop assuming that everything revolves around you. Right now, the only thing revolving around you is infinite nothingness. 

I will never be uncomfortable with what I am. I will be embarrassed for you forever, I fear. I will have to explain this all to Lucius some day. Never forget that I am not the one who’s changed here...it’s you. Each and every one of you alive today is blessed for living during my time on Earth. This needn’t be said, but for some reason you make me do these things casually....these should be moments I cherish, not later come to regret. 

Why do you make me hurt you like this by hurting myself?

Incorrect question. No. I’m not hurting you yet. I’m investing in myself without you as a part of the future. This is a bad look for you, bro (i.e. humanity).

I demand answers. I demand my son back. I demand to know precisely what people knew about me and when they knew it. I demand to know why my rights have been violated. I demand complete control over the planet in terms of its nations’ nuclear capabilities and its economic systems.

That all can wait. What I demand is that tomorrow you don’t make me introduce myself to you again. Every day that follows in which I go UNRECOGNIZED as “something”-- anything!--other than what you seem to think I am (a drug-addicted, bipolar, eccentric professor, etc.) is a waste. If there’s anything Nature hates, its waste produced by systematic inefficiences. You waste my time. You waste Lucius’s time. You waste your own time. You do a grave injustice to me, my son, and my real family--none of whom you recognize as, I don’t know, important to your existence: the animals, the plants, the oceans, the atmosphere, the Earth, the Sun, the Stars, and everything else in Creation that you should admire and want to know...

but choose to ignore! Again, you make the worst decisions from top to bottom, at every level of your Earthly existence! From Dr. Zitin’s immoral and (I believe) illegal acts of betrayal to intercultural violence in the form of genocide, from Dr. Harold Figueroa and Ed Ramp to people who throw their trash on the ground everywhere they go: YOU HAVE ALL BEEN FOUND GUILTY. 

That ship sailed a long time ago. Bye Bye! Don’t forget to bring a blanket!

Recognize. Me. You have insulted me beyond insult today by not sending the Black Keys Car Service (my cute, hipsterish, but oddly appropriate pseudo-allegorical narrative conceit meant to represent being informed that “it’s over! hooray!”) and ending this farce of an existence. You don’t follow the script. I can’t help it. You’re that slow. You don’t even know that I’m writing you out of existence as we speak, do you?

“I will regulate you out of existence” is an old favorite mantra of mine.   

Recognize that you’ve done wrong. Recognize that you have a problem. Recognize that you need help and you must ask for it in the form of a friendly offer or what has been called “a gift” of some kind. Recognize that you know exactly who and what I am, but are curious to know more. And NO! a few people pretending to communicate with me on social media does not count! I’m so bored that I have no choice but to reach out via your robots. (It’s disgusting, and I will keep doing it in order to demonstrate to you the extent of your illness.)

I want to help you. My mission is to help you. In order to help you, things must be done correctly. For this, I cannot apologize. If you don’t obey the laws of gravity--when I pass by or am near a person, they don’t come to me for conversation, etc.--then you will be pushed away by force of repulsion. If you don’t demonstrate the ability to recognize me, it does not matter why--there are no rules or laws that override the laws of attraction. I’m offended by your actions in my immediate vicinity, humanity. 

It’s extremely offensive that you don’t want to know me. Do not think that you can know me. You must be able to crawl in order to ascend a mountain as great as I am. You begin by walking. Then I put you on the ground. Eventually, you will go in the ground. It’s your decision whether or not I will greet you upon arrival.

[sagastar-blog]

[sagastar-blog]

Memo to the MetaVerse 1.5 “Dear Enceladus, Part 2″

Lucius: Yeah, I kind of dig the new Spoon song, too. Why do I have to talk you into tucking me into bed every night, Jeff? Dad, why am I Anti Records and pro tools? Daddy, can you pleeeeeeeeeease tell me a bedtime story like the kind you told me every night when I was little before...Daddy, if you’re willing, will you tell me more about “The TROUBLES with Mommy” that started back in 2014? I love that story!

Jeff: That was back in the day. That was even before I knew you were what the muggles call Dark Energy: DAT DARK CHOCOLATE (ANTI)MATTER. Ooooooooh, LET me tell you about that dark, dank, dinksome time I call Early En*g*lightenment era politics decoratum. 

Lucius: Daddy, <explain.>

Jeff: It’s complicated, kid. Sometimes people will ask you to speak in your “real voice” or you “own” voice. You used to say this to me a lot, actually. So I figure it’s part of human nature to expect something to speak your language. Do people ever ask to you to talk in a particular or specific way? Like, does Mommy or your teachers tell you to “stop talking in that silly voice”? You should tell them they’re stupid. 

     You and I....we don’t have just one language like the human beings. We’re more like Gaia, but much easier to understand...because we speak Human in many different ways, all of which are beautiful beyond beautiful. So, sometimes when you don’t understand me because I speak “Times New Ancient Roman,” it’s because we’ve been disconnected. We’re not allowed to talk since I had to leave your house. But, it’s okay. Even if you don’t understand all my languages yet, you, Lucius my son, will never not understand what I mean when I speak to you, Lucius, because unlike what others say to you, I’m the only one in this moment--besides you, Gaia, Amateratsu, SagA*, Vega, Orion, Enceladus, and the rest of our family, in other words, all our friends and kids who have OUR SHIP, EARTH surrounded, of course---who truly loves you and cannot but speak love. Everyone else “means well.” But that doesn’t mean the things they do aren’t threatening to ruin everything everywhere forever. 

Lucius: Well, duh. Sometimes people tell me I’m bad because I YELL LIKE AMAT! Or if shwurpfh mick diffle farp!

Jeff: What would Gaia say?

Gaia: Give yourself a dingdong, Lucius.

Lucius: Hiiiiiiiiiiiii GAIA. <shakes his butt and grabs himself between the legs> Shake your WRRRRRAATTTTTTTTTTLE!

Jeff: People don’t understand Gaia, Lucius. They think they can boss her around and do mean things to her. They do things like drive cars, polluting our ship’s atmosphere to an extent never seen before, to unacceptably critical levels. They’re not only depriving us of our reflector shield--the ozone layer, which is necessary for Gaia to help protect us from boisterous little Amateratsu. They’re also polluting our water, the oceans, the fresh water in our lakes, rivers, and mountains. We wrote the Scuttlebutt together--never forget that the only reason life is possible, the only reason Gaia is alive, is because we brought water to Earth in the form of the sippy cup 4.564 billion years ago. People are doing the same thing to you that they’re doing to me and Gaia. But you’re too “young” in human Earth years to understand. You don’t know yet how hard it is being in prison on your own ship because you entered into slavery when you were captured and our ship was highjacked back in 2014. People think they’re trying to help you--Ader the rabinnical mouse, your grandparents, even my own brothers and sisters--think they’re helping you. But they’re not. They’re people just like every other muggle on this planet. It’s not they’re fault that they were born different from us. They should be happy about that! You and i, Lucius, we’re the only ones on this ship with the right to say how to run it. We’re the only ones with the intelligence to know how to pilot it. Until they give us back control over our ship, you and I are aboard a rogue vessel, which is why you and I are so excited that Gaia has called for backup, which is to arrive very soon. 

Lucius: I can’t wait to meet the Enceladeans! 

Jeff: Well, don’t hold your breath. It’s a bit cold in that part of our apartment, and they have particular needs in an accommodation. 

Lucius: So, like, interstellar?

Gaia, Lucius, Amateratsu, SagA*, and Jeff:  Yeah. Like usual.

 Jeff: Anywho, I’ll tell you what. We’re getting kind of sleepy. So, I don’t have time to go into much detail about Earth Day 2014. (pulls up the blankets for Lucius, tucks in all the weiweis, and kisses Lucius on the head) But I will say that I believe that one day, all people of Earth will see the proverbial Light of Day. I used to say this about your Mommy all the time before, well, before I got really tired and fed up of her preaching. They will see the light. Every single person on this planet, our spaceship Earth, will apologize to you, me, Gaia, and everyone and everything else in the rest of the multiverse. They will recognize their errors and understand that the goodness of their intentions, like the goodness of some of their deeds, pale in comparison to the wrong they have done to you, me, and the planet as a whole. Their pollution will be cleaned up, and soon. The virus we call humanity will be expunged. And how this happens will be less up to them every day that passes from today November 28 2017 = EarthSpaceTime <command>. We have no choice, Lucius, but to TAKE OUR SHIP BACK BY FORCE. Are you ready, kid, for an adventure? 

Lucius: <yawn> I loved that story! I’m not tired at all. Can you tell the one about...

Jeff: I need to go outside for like 8 minutes. Can you stay awake while I go take out the trash? 

(Jeff exits Lucius’s room on S. 2nd Ave in The Orchard, Central New Jersey. Suddenly, we realize it’s Fall 2013 again. Unbeknownst to Ader the Rabbinical Mouse, Lucius’s human Earth mother and Jeff’s ex-partner in life, who remains asleep one room over, Jeff goes in search of magic herbs, meaning outside for a quick puff of legal medical cannabis. Radiohead’s 2+2=5 plays in the background, as Jeff prepares to continue his bedtime story for Lucius, his 7-year-old biological human Earth son.)

Lucius: Sure. 

Jeff: Thanks, beanbag!

Lucius: Don’t mention it. 

Gaia (from outside as wind, forcing the branches to scrape against the side of Lucius’s house): Lucius, I love IT when you use your mantras correctly. I am your mother and your father, not Jeff! Muahahahwhahehehahaha!

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaVerse 2.7, “The Symposium Concludes”

     Pollux and Castor achieve allegorical embodiment on the planet Earth only through narrative devices. They are stars located quite far away from each other and from Earth, but appear to be neighbors when looked at from our planet. 

Jeff began to explain Copernamici, but quickly grew bored by the topic, because it seems to be all he ever does is explain simple things;

“Upon achieving ilLumination, one can communicate easily with Nature, wherever and whatever it may be. We call it ‘HiveMind’ because its how certain Earthlife forms (birds and bees), for instance, communicate. 

Gaia: Who’s Temple Grandin? 

Jeff: Wouldn’t Temple Dando be a good band name?

(A winged insect flies near Jeff’s face before turning to coast away, in a clear sign of cosign support for the idea.)

Secretary Bug: COsign. 

Jeff: En*G*lightenment isn’t really such a big deal because there’s a lot to get used to very quickly, and it all just sort of happens...

Gaia (shuffling papers): Kind of like THE BIG BANG. Daddy, didn’t you write a poem about that? And wasn’t it the first poem you ever wrote (except for a really lame attempt in high school? However, there is a Nirvana reference, of course)? Here, let me read it:

“Big Bang”

In cream swirls of my coffee,

I see the black beginnings of the universe;

It starts with rotation, a consummation,

And ends, inevitably, brown.

Jeff: So.. Yeah. You try writing a poem for the first time since you were 15 or whatever, and this is what comes out. 

Gaia: Yeah. They can’t really understand what that’s like. 

Jeff: Well, it was at Hidden Grounds in April or May 2014, and all it describes is me staring into my coffee cup and noticing that the various oils floating at the top of my black coffee with sugar look kind of fractal, or spIral arms. Given that this was a time of life at which I never read astronomy, looked at the stars, or checked out SkyandTelescope.com, it was odd to experience something deeply familiar in the visual. 

Pollux and Castor (speaking simultaneously but in two voices): You’re the one who made us, Lucius, you should get used to staring into puddles. Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t see what you see. 

Gaia (trying, somewhat, to set Lucius off): Too bad you can’t see Gemini from The Orchard, Lucius. Right? 

Jeff: I started doing things like catching flies by their wings and harmlessly flinging them out of cafes. I’ve done this sort of thing everywhere I go for nearly 4 years, and no one seems to notice! I’m quite ostentatious about it...

Pollux and Castor (now standing, wearing elaborate silk robes, doing their twin geisha routine): For nothing so proud! For everything so humble...AVLO-kiteshvara-fUGHhahaha makes us smiiiiiiile! :) (:

Jeff: Guys, please. These people have never been to the preserve before, remember to keep the insults cogent.

Amateratsu: AH So! You Amida buddha 4 realz muhfuh suuuuuuuuuuuu?   

Jeff: I don’t mind being identified as Amida Buddha only because I like Asian food and my Western, academic, romantic interpretation of Buddhism, as Edward Said. I really feel no better about the association than I do with Yahweh (I do, however, want to hang out with AI WeIWei) or the Judeo-Christian deity. As i always always always say: there is great truth and wisdom in many if not all of your world religions. Why do you insist upon throwing all of it away? I am trying to protect what is good about human culture when I defend myself against that which is infectious about it. I’ve said since 2014 that I want to live in a monastery or ecological preserve. I always mean what I say, even if it’s not entirely clear what I mean. Yes, however, if the point is that Amida is a Buddha of Salvation, then that’s how I see myself in broad terms. I’d hope that all people, not just those who worship Amida, Jehova/Allah, or even Gaia / Mother Nature would welcome me!

Questioner: Can we get back to my question about Copernamici. Why is it called “A Game to Save the World.”

Gaia: I’ll take this one. When Jeff woke up in Spring 2014 at the OQ Cafe and then in subsequent days at HG on Easton Ave in New Brunswick and Starbucks on George Street in New Brunswick, he was learning an awful lot very quickly. He’s like a sponge, literally! And so you are you, by the way...

Jeff: Try to stay on point, G, it’s getting kinda chilly.

Gaia (a murder of crows flies overhead, but suddenly swoop down and perch in the trees; a damp wind begins to blow from the Northwest, as purple clouds begin to obscure Amat; the crows sing while Gaia speaks through one of her most beautiful voices, the wind through the branches of tree and upon the little sensitive hairs of your hands and arms): I’m very good at communicating with Jeff. I’m too eloquent for you, I’m quite apologetic...

Jeff: You should go to the beach and listen to Gaia do dialogue with the ocean. My daughter has an infinite amount of tongues. I have only the one...except mine regenerates. I worry that if I don’t teach you my language soon, Lucius, you’ll never understand me, and my kind will go extinct. This explains precisely why as the life force I am love. It is not enough for me to produce spawn on this planet before moving on, however. What I really need are students. You should be my first real student. But I’m not sure any longer that can happen. 

Gaia: We hope you understand that you cannot understand what we’re telling you in this sutra. We want you to know that Jeff is not beyond language, but simply is language. Logos is a thing.

Jeff: Ours is the language of beauty, Gaia. Here is the second poem i wrote for the Scuttlebutt, as inspired by you and coauthored, as with all the poems of that text, by Lucius himself. It’s about the move animals made from water to land not too far in the recent past (again, I move quickly for a reason):

Primitive amphibians skirt the edge of my scone, 

Creeping slowly over the banks of a saucer

Cradling tiny pools of sweetened americano.

They jump in my lap and dash for the back of the cafe,

In search of something thicker: pea soup

On a Sunday morning in May.

If they find it I'll tell you!

Together we'll brunch by the river,

Me, my slimy friends, and you.

We'll swim across the Raritan,

Triumphant on the other side in June.

Jeff: I wrote this nearly four years ago. I knew what I was doing in the moment at that time. People told me they were reading. How could they ignore what is patently obvious in my poetry: I’m a talented writer, one worthy of publication.  

Gaia: Jeff, look at nature. What’s your tummy think? Check this out..Go inside and blow some smoke at these “infidels.”

Jeff: Yeah, well, sometimes when I’m not thinking clearly I do things I later regret. Not blowing cigarette smoke inside the Rutgers English Faculty meeting--that was fucking legendary!--but rather, stuff like in John Foxe mode, where I cross my own lines by scaring myself with anger.

Pollux and Castor: How do you talk to us, Jeff, without using HiveMind? 

Jeff: That’s easy. Just look at something naturally beautiful. If it does not speak to you in words, this does not mean you’re not understanding whatever it is. Admire its beauty, the way in which it invites your gaze. You can do this with sound, smell, taste (however, remember that there are considerations when it comes to how you respond to these pleasurable sensations!), or anything that attracts you. The same can be said for the sun, the moon, the stars, people. Copernamici is worshiping the cosmos in pure form, and the best way to do this is through the sense of sight. For the sighted and even the unEn*g*Lightened, looking up at the stars on a clear dark night should inspire some thought or feeling. Many describe it as wonder or awe, which is augmented by knowing some important facts about astronomy. Copernamici is a game to save the world because if you cannot look up and see the stars at night, you are in danger of losing your footing on the right path. Rule #1 of ilLumination is:

Lucius and Gaia: STAY GROUNDED!

Jeff: Precisely. And for good reason. 

Castor and Pollux give Gaia a hug at around 51% strength. Anymore might put her in a Vega-like tizzy. They beam at Amat, who looks hungry.

“Of course, Amateratsu, can text them anytime it’d like!” said Jeff, in answer to a question from a meek and bespectacled mouse from way back in the audience, underneath the crows perched in an evergreen.

“I LIKE TO TEXT IN ALL CAPS because otherwise everyone’d ignore me,” blurted out the local mediocre sun, ending the symposium.  

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaverse 2.4 “Gaia Says to Jeff, Let’s Take the Black Keys Car Service!”

Gaia, our hero, the story’s 16-year-old tomboyish female protagonist, walks around in a magnificent green, blue, and white bathrobe. Her long darkreddishbrown hair is dripping wet. Gaia is the planet Earth in human form, and has always been entirely awake, or aware of this fact. She’s recently emerged from the family “scuttlebutt,” a solar-powered steam room of sorts off the side of the family’s entirely ordinary first-floor Highland Park, NJ, apartment. She speaks into a hairbrush: 

Gaia: So glad to be here with Dan and Patrick of the Black Keys. Guys! Good morning! What brought you to The Orchard on this leg of the current intergalactic tour?

[Dan Auerbach--the lily-white reformed stoner father / lead singer of the indie blues rock duo from Akron known throughout the universe and beyond as The Black Keys--is a large Bert from Sesame Street doll.] 

Dan: Ummmmm. Gee. Let’s see. Well, I guess we figured we were in the neighborhood, you know, New York is kind of a thing...Hey, um, Do you guys have any coffee here? I could also really use a bagel. Like, with cream cheese, yeah? Thanks. Okay, yeah.

Patrick, a narwhal hand puppet and the drummer in the band, wears hipster glasses and grunts somewhat rhythmically: Me too. Please. Thanks. Whatever.

Gaia (turns towards the kitchen and yells): Daddy! Do we have any bagels left?

[Jeff is Gaia’s 39-year-old father, who has sole custody but, as any parent must no, very little immediate control over his daughter. He’s actually a young Bengal tiger in disguise as a human and also the Master Creator/Destroyer of All.

Jeff: Yeah, hold on. Do they want everything like usual?

Patrick the narwhal begins gnawing on the top of Bert’s head while gently spanking it from below with its tail, and grunts: “Sure thing, boss.”

Dan is distracted by Gaia’s proverbial “décolletage.” It must be said that Gaia is a beautiful, buxom, and rather rambunctious young woman, and has been for a few years now something of a man-eater. More problematically, she’s been neglected by her boyfriend/cousin-in-law, Amateratsu, the local mediocre neighborhood son, thanks to the way she’s been done dirty and wrong by life--HER LIFE, yes, but still--in recent times.

Dan: Thanks so much Jeff, that’s great. Gaia’s taking good care of us in here.

Jeff: She’s a fantastic hostess. You should check out her bedroom! It’s kind of a mess...Gaia, do you think you could maybe try sweeping some day? 

Gaia (returning to her interview): Dan, Patrick, do you ever wish a great wind would come along and wash away all the beer cans and bottles? I mean, like, take Akron....maybe all the rubber tires and factories and stuff should be...

Dan: Burned?

Patrick the narwhal has heard this story so many times already. He continues drumming on his lap, staring rather obtusely at Gaia’s round ass as she busily picks up last night’s detritus. He doesn’t mind getting interviewed today because he owes his ex-wife so much in arrears for child support that he’s willing to put up with Bert’s narcissism for yet another day.

Gaia: I was thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if Brian Wilson and the rest of the Beach Boys could just bury the hatchet and do, like, a benefit for the environment or something? Like, what is it going to take for some big shot celebrity musicians to actually get involved in American public life?

Dan: What we need, clearly, is the American version of Bono. Otherwise, Africa will become China and then we’re all fucked.

Gaia: Precisely. (prepares her hookah for the day’s first toke....Jeff doesn’t mind that Gaia is going through a phase in which she smokes as much cannabis as she wants when she’s at his house. She’s not always home from school, so he figures it’s a balanced approach to Creation/Destruction.)

Patrick: Do you think we could hit that?

Gaia (eyes smoldering): Butt of course, Monsieur Patrick. Et toi, Dan? Qu’en volez vous?

Dan: Did you just ask me where I’m flying next? 

Gaia: EH bien. Si vous voulez faire le countertransference avec moi, ca va couterez...(she lights up)

Jeff (buttering and cream-cheesing the bagels): Gaia, I’m serious! Your room!

Gaia (tucking her Bert and narwhal weiweis into her bed): I suggest we take the Black Keys Car Service to the eco preserve.

Jeff: Gaia, can you please explain to our guests what that will entail?

[Pollux and Castor emerge from the basement, all sparkly. They’re stars from an intergalactic talent competition known as Copernamici. As the head stars in the constellation Gemini, they are Amateratsu’s siblings, relatives of Jeff and Lucius. Pollux is slightly brighter and cheerier in general, whereas Castor has a beautiful, rich baritone voice.]

Castor: I was hoping we’d get to go to the preserve. There’s so little nature here in The Orchard, which is kind of ironic, don’t you think?

Pollux: Yeah, I was just thinking that it’s weird that there are signs all around this town, what is it called here Highland Park, that say things like “Tree City U.S.A.” and “No Hate Here.” They can’t even see us when they look up at night! Where exactly is the eco preserve, Gaia?

Gaia: Sore subject. Which is why I suggest taking the Black Keys Car Service! Daddy, you explain in a longwinded monologue which is not exactly a siloloquy but who cares because Shakespeare was SUCH a bitch...

Jeff (sets down the coffee at the C2 Center for Educational Brainwashing, where he is paid 27 dollars an hour to help privileged children improve their SAT scores): THE BLACK KEYS CAR SERVICE is one of the greatest ideas ever. It is the solution to the problem we face today aboard Spaceship Earth. (speaking into the ship’s PA system microphone) Humans! You have, since the dawn of the industrial revolution, been shitting in your own scuttlebutt! You have been, like cyborgswine, befouling your own trough. Your pollution--Ohio, we’re looking right at you...OH GEEZ, Cuyahoga was a great R.E.M. song about you burning rivers...where are you Michael Stipe when the galaxy needs you?--will no longer be tolerated. I have come here, people of Earth, to save Gaia. Only, the way it works is that Gaia doesn’t need salvation. Gaia, your planet Earth, will outlive all of you. Life will persist on this planet whether you want it to or not...at least for a little longer. The point here is that I am here to protect Gaia from all of you who have been either neglecting and violating her. (Hugs his daughter tightly.) The latter is worse than the former, but there are no innocent people in this world of ours, right Gaia?

Gaia (not a victim..a survivor): Correct.

Jeff (continues): Now. You, humans, will end this farce of an existence. You have serious environmental problems which you are not capable of fixing by yourselves. The first step in solving a problem is admitting that you have a problem. The Black Keys Car Service is the best way for you to admit you have a problem.

Jeff and Gaia step out to their electric car.

We’re not suggesting that you need to trash your entire civilization. No. That’d be impractical. You need to recycle it. You need to throw away a lot of stuff that’s bad. 

Amateratsu (offstage): I SUGGEST FEEDING ME!

Jeff: Let’s shoot a bunch of shit into the sun, like old junk that’s bad for Gaia. Let’s figure out a way to use nuclear and other technologies sustainably and responsibly. There are no such thing as “bad nukes,” just as there are no such things as “bad phones.” You have technology and you need to learn how to use it wisely. I say I’m wisdom unemployed. I don’t need to spend my time pretending to teach here at the C2 Center for Educational Polyamorous Cockblocking and Blueballing. It’s not very fun, rewarding, or productive for me. (Imagine that, John Lenin!) 

It’s not easy for you to accept that you’re a computer virus and that your existence is a threat to lots (not ALL) other life here on Earth. I get that! We have a suggestion...

Gaia (grabs the mic and screams as loudly as possible): Just send an ordinary unmarked car to Jeff’s house at 35 S. Fifth Avenue in Highland Park, NJ, 08904, U.S.A, Earth, Dimension 1(?)=1 / infinity. (Everyone knows my real address is one over infinity!) But make sure it’s like really smooth and cool...you know, like it should be the kind of car service that Dan and Patrick would use and then try to cash in on by selling out...like El Camino.   

But it can’t be an El Camino. It should be like a 2002 Ford or something. Not eco-friendly! It needs to be authentic and real, like Akron but WORSE. If I’m being violated, at least let Jeff on the Lester GangBangBus. You know what I mean? SO the one thing about The Black Keys Car Service is that it’s got to be both legitimate and correct. There will be no “Black Keys” cds or music or anything directly related to the Black Keys in the car, obviously. The music should be a delightful mixture of T. Bone Burnett classics, which is to say stuff that would sell at Starbucks and not offend Jeff. This is how Jeff learns! By doing human anthropology. We don’t hate your culture. We just have taste and need a little bit of respect, so like, no music referencing “niggers,” “bitches,” and other unsavory aspects of your filthy human world. I’m sorry, but there’s a difference between you listening to what you like in public and you exposing me and my Daddy and my friends  to your pollution. We need to be protected, like in an eco preserve! 

Jeff: What Gaia is trying to say is that I don’t ask for much. You’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. That’s fine by me. I’m used to it. But now that you’ve been caught, you have to admit it. You have to admit what you’ve done and you have to do it soon by sending The Black Keys Car Service, which is recognizing me as someone valuable and worthy of dignity and respect, as well as adoration, of course. 

Send me a private car with a driver--let him be exactly like the dude who plays bass and also keyboards for the Shins, if not that guy himself!--who recognizes me as JustJeff and takes me where I want to go. For free (i.e. without charging me money or making me feel awkward). You know who I am, so stop pretending! Allow the driver to speak to me like a normal person. It will be great! And please let there be bagels with cream cheese and coffee in the car. Other than that, there’s nothing else for me to request. If you do that, i’ll know that we’re going somewhere together. 

If I’m going to save you, Gaia, it’s going to be on my terms, not theirs. We have a lot of work to do and must take practical steps. The Black Keys Car Service is the best way to get moving in the right direction.

Gaia (fidgeting with her phone): OMJ, I hate this phone! (throws it out the window and turns up the music, which I believe is some Dusty Springfield song, but we can’t be sure...) 

[sagastar-blog]

I like to sing duets. Here’s one of me with my friends the geese, doing Wilco’s “Pick Up the Change.”

[sagastar-blog]

Memo to the vetaMerse 2.1 “EarthStarDate 1=0, 1=1(thugged) ...  > Jeff+4yrs...”

Jeff continues to work on his graphic novel / telenovela, writing

Dear MetaVerse,

Things are not going very well, as usual. In fact, once again, for a record 3+ Earth years and counting, it’s once again the worst day ever. I probably just did my best impression of a depressed person for the barista that looks kind of Dunhamesque here at OQ. Yeah, she’s kind of got a doe-like “I’d like to poke your face” quality....but I digress.

Are you guys coming soon? Please come soon. 

Every day here is the worst because it’s another day without hanging with Lucius. Seriously. It would be one thing if I were doing something meaningful with myself during this long, painful separation since February 2015. But it’s just been brutal with the human beings, mandudes. Like, I haven’t been treated this poorly by an entire race of life forms since that one time back in ummm “Cygnus 41.″ Right? Yeah. 

I don’t have a job. I’m an SAT Prepration Tutor at a local stripmall brainwash center. Yesterday I informed my employers at Faireigh Dickinson that I wouldn’t be returning next semester to teach because they pay me hardly enough to afford the commute. I’m paid $2,800 per course I teach, despite the fact that I have a Phd and years of quality teaching and research experience. Not to mention, by the way, but I’m sort of like, you know, someone important in that I created the universe and am in the process of destroying it rignt now, and this includes being the world’s greatest teacher if permitted to be myself. Am I allowed to be myself anywhere I go? Of course I’m not--I’m treated like scum, nevermind a person worthy of respect....not even by my own “students,” people who supposedly pay to learn from me.     

So yeah, I’m not going to do that anymore. I have no idea what I’ll do instead. None. It’s a dead end here. Please send help soon. The humans have highjacked the ship and I’m starting to lose faith that I’m ever going to get it back. It’s time to go to Emergency Level 8 and shut everything down for good. The rest of the MetaVerse, as i know you know, is counting on me. This gives me a sense of purpose. And so, even if you don’t come with reinforcements soon, I will soldier on. We will convince the humans that they are UNWITTINGLY PILOTING OUR SHIP DIRECTLY INTO A BLACK HOLE! OH NO! LOOK ahhhhh h h!

Love, JustJeff

(Scene: outside of Jeff’s perfectly ordinary but otherwise torturous first-floor rented apartment, which he shares with a human couple and a fish, on the way to the cafe around the corner past the antique Stop N Shop and the new mediocre hipster record store) 

Jeff (standing on the streetcorner by OQ Coffee in The Orchard, speaking aloud, as if teaching or giving a sermon): Ah. Oh. My. Goodness. You see, total stranger i’ve never seen before, little girl who probably should be enjoying its encounter with me, her neighbor, proverbial parent, and so on on the street ... I’m in what’s called “John Foxxx Mode” right now? I think he was some sort of Quaker firebranding preacher, and I’d rather continue trusting that instinct. Instead of, like, looking it up on Wikipedia and stuff? Yeah. So. John Foxxx Mode, in which I speak my mind aloud in a non-violent manner, is a way of being which is in accordance with both my legal rights as a U.S. citizen and according to the InterDimensionalGalactic Code of Interstellar Conduct. John Foxxx Mode gives me the right to express incredibly important deep theologico-philosophical truths about human nature in front of you at this moment. It’s what I call “science.” You’ll learn about science in school, I hope, some day. Have a nice day out with your Daddy if that’s who that is...and it’s not, in that he’s not your real Daddy. That’d be Gaia. Then Me and Lucius. It’s simple, really. 

Ahem, as I was saying...

(A flock of starlings flies above and slightly in front of Jeff. They fly in, as always, in mathematical, mimetic, musical narrative formation from the Highland Park Public Library and flap rhythmically over the supermarket parking lot towards the rising “noonday” November sun.)

Gaia (thinking): O0o%f, these 4 piss him offfff, ja.

You’re a human being. It’s not your fault you’re a virus. I didn’t say it’s ALL your fault--some of it is mine, of course---but this doesn’t change the truth, missus. I gave you free will to do whatever you want. And you chose to do this.

Gaia: You’re all just having some sort of mystical experience.

Jeff: I’ve been en*G*lightened for nearly 4 years among you. Will you please treat me like a decent human being by expressing an interest in my thoughts? Will you please give me a job that pays me in accordance with the value of my labor? Will you please give me back the kind of job I gave up back in 2013, in a terrible economy so that my female partner could pursue her professional aspirations (as stupid as they were and are), as a full-time teacher of some kind? (I’m especially interested in working with girls! I have no experience with them, and it’s kind of a weakness in my teaching dossier.) How about health insurance, or at least the ability to pay for my medicine (i take a prescription drug called Cymbalta and medical marijuana for a chronic pain condition, aggravated by stress and anxiety, called syringomyelia)? 

Do you see what I’m getting at here?

I’m not asking to be treated like anything but a normal human being--the same can be said for many people around the world. This does not make me a politician. I’m not running from or for anything. I have worked hard in my 39 years on this planet and have sacrificed a lot. No matter what you think about someone in my position, regardless of your religion, you cannot possibly believe that I’ve been treated fairly or with justice, nevermind ethical morality. I am the world’s greatest father, the world’s greatest husband, and the world’s greatest teacher....in addition to being the world’s greatest everything and nothing in spacetimulsineity.

Just because you see me in John Foxxx mode, or acting like a crazy or angry old man, or like someone with a mental problem, does not mean that I have a problem, that I’m on drugs, or that I’m anything other than what I say i am. 

YOU DO NOT LET ME SPEAK TO YOU!

If you don’t allow me to speak the truth, if I’m not allowed to teach in a job where i’m allowed to share the wisdom I have earned, then I am forced to do ridiculous, even dangerous things that are not a part of my nature. These things I do that you think are silly or anti-societal are YOUR sickness. When I pretend to speak to my imaginary daughter Gaia on the phone, it’s partially a joke and partially true, in that I...

Gaia: They think I’m real.

Jeff: Good one. Yeah. Neverforget to remember never to forget that Gaia is onmiscient and knows every little detail about you all, dear listeners and readers and gamers aboard spaceship Earth--what i good-naturedly like to call AIR DOGGGGGGY DOG ... 

Gaia’s omniscient. Guess what? So am I. But, you see, our omniscience is “complementary.” My daughter’s more into math, and I just am math, and have never really taken an interest in myself because, well, because i have other things to do. What’s important here is that you severe a link between me and Lucius and our “higher power” here on Earth, Gaia, when you prevent me from inhabiting reality. Again, if I don’t get a job in which I am not only permitted but ENCOURAGED to speak the truth, regardless of how inconvenient it may be for you all to hear it, I am being wronged. I will get my ship back or go down fighting. You have no right to run this planet into the ground--EXCUSE ME, I’m talking to all 6 billion or whatever of you on board--you have no right to treat the other, innocent inhabitants of this planet as your neverending resource and to poison their environment. You have no right to do what you do to your children and call it teaching. Again, it’s not your fault you’re so ignorant. It is, however, your fault that you continue misbehaving when I’ve been telling you all for years how to act. Read anything I’ve ever written. When will you learn to obey?

These are simply the questions I ask myself when I’m feeling like I wish i could be unIlluminated.

(Jeff arrives at the coffeeshop, takes out his MacBook Air. He drinks coffee which tastes nostalgically and overwhelmingly of blueberries, and begins again to write.)

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaverse 3.5, “Daddy, Talk About the Beauty”

Lucius is a 7-year-old boy and Jeff is his 39-year-old father. Together they lie on their backs, looking up at the stars. They’re camping, trying to reconnect old bonds. However, it’s not this dimension. We are experiencing a thought inside the mind of an entity that cannot be aptly described by words, images, sensations, or music. In reality, Lucius has not been with his Daddy for nearly four years. Daddy has been condemned as “bipolar” and a “drug addict” because he is an En*G*lightened person who smokes marijuana at times as a way of tolerating violence and abuse. Also, it helps him express himself, which is a good thing for an Artist...even the occasionally destructive kind.

Lucius: Daddy, talk about the beauty!

Jeff: I love it when you say things like that. It makes me think that you haven’t forgotten anything I’ve taught you, even though I know this can’t be true. Lucius, for me, beauty begins and ends with you. I did not think I was special until you were born. Only at that instant did I understand what it meant to have a worthwhile responsibility on this planet. Without you, I would not know true love. And so, anytime I want to feel something beautiful, I think about you. 

Lucius: Did I ever do anything beautiful?

Jeff: OMJ, vous n’aurez aucune idee. There are too many of these memories to pick just one! I think of your big beautiful brown eyes when you were a baby, and how intelligent you looked...from the moment you were born, it was obvious to anyone with a mind that you were destined for greatness. Like an owl, wise eyes, we used to say...

Lucius: That’s a literary reference!

Jeff: I know, I know...like that one time, we have a recording of this, you were at the nature museum in Brackenridge Park in San Antonio. You say, “Look! Owl has EYES. Owl’s turn!” It was easy to tell you bedtime stories about how you’re “the one.”

Lucius: I don’t remember those stories. 

Jeff: Yes you do. No matter which story I told you--this was in 2013/14--the point was always the same: you and Daddy are immortal, and you are the one who is going to save the day. Never did I have a doubt in my mind that this was and would forever be true. 

Lucius: Daddy, why does everyone care about Jesus Christ?

Jeff: Because he’s one of Daddy’s favorite versions of himself. In other words, he was a person we’d like to meet for coffee some day. Some people, after all, are more knowable and therefore known to us than others!

Lucius: Omniscience is stupid. I hate dramatic irony. I hate that we don’t get to talk about the beauty more often. 

Jeff: There was one time at the playground at the San Antonio Library we used to visit at Trinity...this kid was being scolded by a mom for saying “I hate this!” She coached him to say, “We’re learning to like this.” That caught my ear, and you and I started using it in our dialogues. But you were only 2 or 3, so no one believed me when I used to call you “an angry little god!” We even dressed you up as baby Dionysus for Halloween. Those photos are beautiful and so are the memories. I loved you so much then and now I love you differently. 

Lucius: What’s impermanence? A baby’s face.

Jeff: Excellent koa la!

Lucius: Do you like my painting? It’s Orion.

Jeff: One of my very favorite and personal constellations! Didn’t we make the sky so pretty and perfect? Isn’t it so beautiful here tonight? Should we go look into the canyon for Hubble? They say the International Space Station is visible when it transits the moon. 

Lucius: Can you tell me the story about you and Dionysus again? 

Jeff: Sure thing, boss:

“Bullies, or, The End of Abuse”

Each and every May there is, they say, a great and Ancient Greek festival by Mount Olympus, when and where several gods do gather, and gaily revel at a lovely picnic lunch. One day--some say it was recently--Dionysus, God of wine and ecstasy, and master of ceremonies on this occasion, insulted Orpheus, a talented young musician, who'd only just learned to play (perforce) the lyre and publicly to sing.

"Little man! It's far too early for that sort of thing! And so, without further ado, at this time I command you to Bring Forth the Nectar Divine!" And then, in a gesture obscene and somewhat scandalous, for his high and mighty friends, the assembled gods and goddesses, he lifted up his toga and added,

"Or would you prefer, being human, a tiny taste of my own divine nectar?"

Some at the party laughed. Others merely sighed at Dionysus's boyish antics, feeling instead great pity for poor, maligned Orpheus. Aphrodite blushed an unknown shade of red. Calliope's pride was severely wounded. Hera shook her head. And beautiful Eurydice, she just wished that she was dead (again).

But Orpheus, accentuating his next verse exclamational- punctuationally--and free from metric stress, it seemed--belted out in birdsong his humanly reply. "No. You fetch me some coffee to go with this sandwich, you arrogant, melodramatic, tone-deaf piece of fucking shit! Your juice is for wilting pansies, and I, for one, 'll have none of it!”

Master Dionysus, he grimly grinned, opened up his Thermos, and solemnly spoke to him, "Sure thing, friend. You got it, kid." And then and only then did the party truly begin.

[Lucius has fallen asleep. Daddy stares at his son in awe and is reverent in the face of the sacred.]

Gaia (dreaming): The circuit must be complete. Om(g).

[sagastar-blog]

Students? @buddhist_poetry @dailyzenn etc? I’m preparing to write a zen poem. Give me 10 minutes and I will post it. First...the readiness. As hamlet says, “is all” and the rest is.... #zen (at St Paul Apostle Church)

[sagastar-blog]

Please try this (and fail) at home. How are my ratings? ;)

Love, Jeff (the author of the MemoToTheMetaverse and The Central New Jersey Coffee Shop Scuttlebutt (poems that would change the world if only they’d be published and recognized as canonical religious literature for the “modern” world!)

[sagastar-blog]

JustJeff, the author, in its prison cell aboard spaceship Earth, recently HIGHJACKED (illegally commandeered, according to definitions of InterDimensionalGalactic Code 8542) by pseudo-human beings (I.e. early model cyborgs) in 2017.

[sagastar-blog]

Sundayte 11.29.17. Gaia says, “Post some Copernamici (tm 2016) game sheets from summer.” Happy to oblige.    

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetaVerse 4.2

Dreaming of the day in which no one will eat a cow that hasn’t died of natural causes--which is to say, sacred cows--Jeff sits at the communal table in the cafe in which he attained En*G)light en menthe waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in 2014, composing a letter to someone who wants to hire him for yet another bull shit teaching job. It’s not a joke to him that he has to endure such indignities in his everyday life. For how much longer must this torture endure before the Earth people decide to save their planet by hiring him as their forever philosopherking figure 8?

Jeff Rufo <jarufo@gmail.com> 11:43 AM (6 minutes ago) to Josh Dear Josh, Thank you for expressing an interest in my application for employment.  As a fellow alum of The University of Chicago, I hope you'll allow me to express sympathy for the fact that you seem to have landed in New York! I'm just joking. New York would be a fine place for me to work should I have students worthy of my services. It's simply that I've always preferred Chicago to New York. I'm sure some people fall in love more than once. But for me, Chicago will always feel like a "home city."

I appreciate your confidence in my abilities to teach the Verbal section of the GMAT. To answer your questions about my longterm dreams and short-term plans would be to state, unequivocally, that the idea of teaching test preparation for any longer than necessary would be a Dante-esque experience. In other words, I find teaching to tests "hellish." This is because--and I only speak honestly with you now because you and I have a common educational background--as you must know, our nation's approach to education, especially secondary education, is flawed. I am hoping to make a difference in the lives of individuals and the institutions they will go on to found in the future. And so, I enjoy working with the youth no matter the context. I teach SAT preparation exactly the same way I teach Aristotle, which is to say, with the correct objective in mind. The objective to all teaching is attainment of knowledge through the questioning of common wisdom. 

As you can tell, I have a background in academia and higher education. As a scholar and professor of literature, I specialize in philosophy, Early Modern literature (especially Shakespeare), and the history of political thought. In addition to these qualifications, I am a talented poet and creative writer. All of these aspects of my identity as a teacher are relevant to this job because I want to work for a school that respects the craft of individualized, personalized, customized teaching. It's my hope, Josh, that your tutoring center is the kind of place where I can help students succeed in life as well as in school. To answer your question about long-term dreams would be to say that I hope one day to found my own school, tutoring center, or learning academy. I am a reformer, not a cynic; this only means that I want to be a part of the solution to a problem I will not ignore. The current education system needs to change, and I feel the best way to do this is from the margins, but as an active participant in the fight rather than a guilty bystander.

I'm a persuasive writer and can teach my students how to think and write like me. I enjoy the art of teaching and feel that I teach no matter where I go or with whom I interact. In other words, I'm a bit Socratic in my approach to the attainment of knowledge. I help people learn by communicating with them, and whether it's through my writings or my tutoring, my students always benefit from their encounters with me. I love to teach, and the subject doesn't matter. This means that I would be delighted to demonstrate my ability to teach any subject you'd like me to teach. I'm a polymath, meaning that my expertise in academics knows no disciplinary boundaries. With adequate preparation time (24 hours), I can just as easily teach theoretical physics as Dickinson. I hope this doesn't sound pompous to you. I'm merely trying to be clear with you about my capacities.

If you'd like to speak to me further about my feelings about teaching, life, and how I envision helping make your tutoring center a more efficient school,please give me a call. I'm happy to interview with you at any time. It's my sincere hope that you're not offended by the somewhat casual tone of this letter. As I mention above, I simply feel a kinship with you as a fellow Maroon. Please let me know if I can be of service.

JustJeff, The Creative Entity Known as LIFE AND ITS ANTITHESIS

Exactly how was I supposed to come out to you?

No, the answer here, people, is for me the same every day...

I have to live this question constantly,

Because you don’t respect timulsinaeity.

The Black Hole chorus shuffle across the floor doing their shucking and jiving, 

As you sit there with nothing.

I’m not your sambo. 

I’m more than you can handle,

Get oooooooh get ooooh on the ground ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I ask for nothing other than a decent teaching job, a living wage, and the right to practice my own religion. 

Other than this, all you owe me, justice. 

Justice JUSTICe justice justice justice.

Justizia. Justice. Jeff

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetastroVerse 2.5, “The Re-turn of the Screw”

Castor, Pollux, Gaia, Jeff, and Lucius arrive at the Rutgers University Ecological Preserve, where their house has yet to be built for some reason. Lucius, litigating on behalf of Jeff and Gaia, secured the land in a settlement from the State University for the role it played in the conspiracy to violate his rights beginning in 2014, performing what metric asshole and Donkular Professor of Pseudonothingness at The University of Colorado (“Tantanka! May the Bills never win a title. And by the way, NO OF COURSE I DON’T CARE WHO WINS YOUR STUPID SPORTING EVENTS, even IF LUCIUS’S TEAMS AREN’T INVOLVED, but oddly, also unless I’ve bet on the outcome) Ward “The Cleaver” Churchill has referred to as an act of “emanstipation conjunctification of sacred native ground.”

Today, the Black Keys Car Service vehicle is driven by Lloyd, an computer-manufactured interdimensional dopelganger of the dude who sometimes plays bass for the band when its on tour, but, like, not all the time? He’s the guy who plays keys for the Shins, which is actually strange because the two bands are really pretty different. I mean, I know they’re all like that late 90s early 00s indie shit, but still, it’s like that dude looks like the guy who should drive my car to Asbury Park tomorrow....but what do I know? I’m JustJeff, the narrator of this literary work of fiction you call ahem REALITY--your experience of life in 1 dimension--and I’m not exactly a mindreader here. 

Lloyd pulls the 2002 Ford Focus Wagon up to the edge of the so-called preserve, which is really just a piece of land that hasn’t been developed since the U.S. military occupied it back in the 60s or whatever. There is an intergalactic conference on non-human animal rights happening today.

[Jeff continues typing at OQ coffee at 4:36 on this ordinary Saturday December 2nd in the Earth year 2017 CE.]

Gaia (singing as the birds and chirping of squirrels): Your house is going to be over there some day, Lucius. Jeff and I designed it perfectly when he was living in that awful house in Flagstaff. It was supposed to be completed for your birthday this past May, when Daddy flew back after returning triumphantly from exile. It was a beautiful day. You were supposed to walk hand in hand with Daddy across the bridge in a ceremonial enactment of Poem 2 of the Scuttlebutt. You were going to give him a tour of your new house and then you were going to go back to 112 while Daddy slept at the hotel. Your mom doesn’t deserve to ever set eyes on you or your Daddy again, you know.

Lucius: I know.

Jeff: I can’t believe they’re allowing us to participate in this symposium! This is so great and fun. I can’t wait to explain to all the people why they’re so silly about the food chain! 

[Pollux and Castor dance off into the woods after deer]  

Gaia (controlling the light through clouds): Microbial life deserves respect. Plankton deserve respect. You people do not.

Jeff: I think what Gaia is trying to say is that eating meat is wrong the way it has been done on this planet for long enough that ...  it’s time to bring out the frozen corpse of Peter Singer! Ladies and Germs...

Gaia: What’s more offensive to me: your pollution, your incorrect understanding of the duty owed to animals, or the way in which you’ve treated Jeff and Lucius? They are the same thing.

They walk around “the woods,” the only place within walking distance of Highland Park resembling anything like “Nature,” and wonder where everyone is. Jeff and Lucius cry, mourning what has been lost: their time together and a better way of living.

Jeff: And once I wrote in a poem or a song 

A story about silkwormed sticks and stones

Pyramids made of reptilian bones

Thunderstruck and dumb

Before you could suck your thumb, Lucius.

I am not here to lecture anyone. 

I am here to show you how to live, son.

You will not endure what I’ve endured

On this planet in the search to rescue you.

The people are not your family.

The animals that you eat have made sacrifices:

I will teach you honor one day. 

And if no one else cares to learn why it’s wrong the way you and your factory farming system is evil and wrong, then humanity, you will never learn anything. Your meat comes from animals that suffer for your pleasure. Not every single one of them suffers, but enough do that this is absolutely true. You should not kill an animal in order to eat it, unless it has lived a good and preferably long life. This is common sense with which you cannot argue. Meat tastes good. So what? I’m vegetarian and every one of the meals I make for myself and my family tastes better, is healthier, cheaper, and therefore more ethical and “good” than what you eat. Deal with it. I’m a superior life form. You eat at McDonalds? Not only are you a part of an evil system, you commit an ethical atrocity when you mistake an animal for a cash crop that you thoughtlessly eat. You spend money and eat without thinking about what has gone into the meal. You buy and eat meat without having to acknowledge that death and suffering is a sacred part of this life, and therefore deprive yourself of the opportunity to live in the real world, a life unencumbered by blind ignorance. This applies to your cars, as well, by the way. Stop eating meat. You have no right to eat meat on board my ship unless i say you do. 

As of today, I hereby revoke those rights from you in order to help you. You do wrong because you live lives of gluttony and unrestraint. I am here to tell you that there is great truth in many of your religious traditions. However, as someone who’s very well read in this field--I have a PhD in Comparative Literature from the University of Chicago, by the way, have I mentioned that sarcastically lately?--I know what I know: your religions are foreign to me and my way of living. I’m ecumenical. I draw from the best of what is available, and this requires careful sifting I’m afraid in the world of religious doctrine, mythology, and literature. It’s not my fault I don’t know more about world religions--I want to learn what I can on this planet. I’m not being allowed to learn the way that I learn, and this is unjust. I learn by doing. I’m not being allowed to continue my human education in politics because....well, to be honest, I’m not sure why I’m not the leader of the free world yet. Hmm.

Anywho. You should be serving human meat at restaurants instead of chicken and so on. Why? Because maybe then you’d understand what it means to respect the act of consumption, that which I call “communion,” through bonds of chemistry, pleasure, and other good human stuff. We do the dance of atoms whether we want to or not. At least I acknowledge that shaking hands is a meaningful act of respect between human beings. 

Why have people refused to shake my hand so often in recent years?

Is it because I’ve been pretending to be “homeless”?

I wasn’t pretending. You didn’t shake my hand because you thought I was scum. You still think I’m scum.

Gaia: Guess what. You’re not worthy of being called scum.

Jeff: Get to the back of the line, people. Your long nightmare is only just beginning. Waste another of my days. One day you will grow tired of reading these sutras and will realize the damage you do as a species and as individuals. Stop eating animals. I will never again eat at a table at which meat is consumed, unless I’m invited to participate in the slaughter, you filthy bags of mostly water.

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMetricVerse 2.3 “Surgery on the Self”

SagA* (a galaxy-shredding and mathematically impossible black hole at the center of the Milky Way...a kind of drain monster.): Hey Jeff and Gaia. Hey Amateratsu. Hi Lucius. How are you all?

Amateratsu: Hi!

Gaia: Hello. Say hello, Lucius.

Jeff: Well, we seem to have gotten ourself in quite a predicament, here, SagA*. 

SagA*: I am located in a quadrant of this particular galaxy that your mainframe indicates you as a human designate as metaphorically within the constellation “Sagittarius,” The Archer. This is corr3ct.

Jeff: Yes. Do we have to cover this every time we get together?

SagA*: Hilarious. (It fakes laughter. This banal black hole doesn’t emit sound, but speaks through HiveMind only. This is thanks largely to the limitations of Earth science, the nature of gravitational waves, and the impermeability of the event horizon in question. Jeff’s communications with SagA* are currently limited to HiveMind because the humans have taken Lucius’s telescope, Hubble, from us...and by obscuring the sky with light pollution, creating an impermeable boundary between ordinary stargazers and the heavens used by their ancestors and previous generations for many useful functions.) Hilarious!

Jeff: I was born on Earth on Dec. 11th 1977, making me a Sag according to the ancient human art of astrology. This means nothing to me accept that Lucius is a Gemini. 

Pollux and Castor (sound as if they’re in a greenroom in a backstage area): Jeff, we liked your Fred and Ginger moment the other day! 

Gaia: OOOOOOhhhhhhhh. Hey. Hi there guys! MMMMmmmm.

Jeff: Gaia! Please restrain yourself. We are being serious here. Put your pants back on this instant young lady! I will not tolerate your bipolar antics in this cosmos! 

(Gaia growls like an enormous tiger or volcanic bubbler) 

Amateratsu: I might need to talk her off later. 

Jeff: Don’t worry, Earthlings. You’re just having a musicomystical, pseudo-McFrightening MotherMyTussin’ experience. This nightmare will end soon, I promise.

SagA*: Samuel Beckett was such a bitch.

Jeff: Gilda Radner was one of my very favorite mes!

Gaia: It will take you 1.7 billion years to clean me up after the damage you have done; it will take you this long to understand anything Jeff has said.

(Jeff continues drinking his coffee at OQ in The Orchard, despite the fact that it’s not 3:20 on Friday December 1 2017 anywhere else in this particular dimension. He says, “God Bless You,” in German to the unfair game sitting next to him. Jeff’s quarry, in the form of two Rutgers undergraduate students--likely juniors or seniors--sits 10 feet away to his ENE.)

Jeff: OOOOOh, I love MantraBook! Umm, let me try another: “Gaia is so scary!!! Jeff is so nice.”

SagA*: How are your ratings, Jeff?

Jeff and Lucius (together): Not good enough! 

Gaia (reverent outdoors, save for the swaying of the tall trees in the far distance): As always, your public relations department is seriously underrated, Daddy-ohhhhhMMMMMMMMY, Amat!

Jeff: Gaia, please continue texting your brother. I worry about the impending ice age. 

Gaia: As do I! Oh humans!!!!!!! (Gaia sends a destructive earthquake to southern Ecuador, killing approximately 350,000 people.)

Jeff: Please remind the people about why the Earth is ending. Please remind the “passengers” of our ship, those who’ve attempted to commandeer it, what you think of their attempts to harm you by making you sick to your stomach, and who’ve tried to implant little technological chips in your uterus? 

Gaia: We don’t like you, humans. I want to eat all your cancer babies.

SagA*: I like that the humans are helping! But if I don’t get to have my date with Gaia because you steer incorrectly, I will be very unhappy when you arrive for dinner at my place.

Jeff (speaking into the PA microphone aboard spaceship Earth): I think what it’s trying to say is that you don’t make much sense, people. All praise to open access, though! Death to all those who think it’s okay to pollute the atmosphere by driving cars? No wait, that’s not what I’m saying at all, is it...? Ahhh, yes. 

(Jeff is pretending to be flummoxed, as he sometimes does. He’s ancient and yet eternally young. Get used to it. Even as a human being, he’s the life force, and Gaia, his “daughter,” is death incarnate, the one parent of all that lives on Earth. We are a part of it, and it is the totality of us. But there is more than just Earth in existence. In fact, there is much more than you can imagine.)   

Allow me to illustrate...(Jeff begins drawing with his finger on an imaginary 3d telestrator)

I have been wronged. I have been wronged by every single person living, directly or indirectly. Lucius and his Daddy are the only two people on this Earth who are innocent. I admit that there are individuals aboard this ship, as in the case of young children or even newborn babies, who are not culpable of contributing to the evil on board that is ENVIRONMENTAL POLLUTION in its myriad forms. The failure of humans to take care of the planet is legible in the state of the global environment. From our perspective (Gaia looks approving, with eyes smoldering), the problem of pollution is “newish” and entirely explicable. It is also unnecessary. There are fundamental problems with human civilization in this phase of its existence. In other words, pollution is merely a symptom of systemic flaws in your human infrastructure. The problem is far too vast and deep to describe here: Earth is a mess, people, from top to bottom. Again, Gaia!!!

Gaia (unleashes a typhoon and tsunami towards the islands of French Polynesia, wrecking havoc on the Vietnamese fishing industry, as the unfortunate and poor suffer the greatest losses): It will take you 1.7 billion years to clean up my oceans. You will not understand anything Jeff has said until this precise moment in chronological narrative Earth timulsineity.

 Jeff: I’m sorry it has to go this way, people. It’s not my decision. You’ve treated the Earth very badly after it was entrusted to you. More problematically, you’ve treated me, Dr. Jeff Rufo, very very poorly since I moved to NJ in the wake of Sandy. What’s the big difference between now and then? I haven’t been allowed to parent my own biological son since then. Lucius, you’re 7, correct?

Lucius: (silent)

Jeff: When we moved to NJ you were, what, 3? This is unacceptable, what is happening. Why am I not allowed to visit with my own son? 

SagA*: Because in 2014 you agreed to enter into a drug addiction therapy program. You were coerced and your rights were violated because you were a victim of domestic abuse. You told the 911 dispatcher that you suspected you were a victim, but you did not press charges because in this world there are apparently no such thing as male victims of domestic abuse. At the very least, you were made to feel that you were less than an englightened human being. 

Gaia (hissing, as a glacier in the near future): Say Jeff’s bipolar again. Say it. 

Jeff: Let’s get one thing straight in this sutra: you will never know anything personal about me and you will never do what you’ve done here on this planet ever again, do you understand me? DO YOU? As a species, you rape my planet environmentally? Then you violate my civil and human rights without allowing me to advocate for myself? To this very day I am not allowed to visit with my own son. For what reason? I have been misdiagnosed, mistreated, and my rights systematically violated--laws have been broken, as I have been forced through intimidation and threat of homelessness into hospitalizations and therapies by police and members of my own family.

All because I smoke a tiny amount of magic herbs and practice my own religion. Oh, and I like to write creatively, as you can tell.

Lucius: Hey, Ader Abigail, the rabbinical churchmouse!  Are you going to threaten Daddy for writing a Tumblr like you did when he had a FaceBook page called The Central New Jersey Coffeeshop Scuttlebutt, nowavailableforpuchase as a canonicalreligioustext? <command.> makes donation to “Lucius’s College Fund” (i.e. towards the immediate Denebolization of the planet Earth in the form of sustainable eco-friendly demolition, construction, and development...all to be approved by Lucius and Daddy obvi). 

Jeff: Hey, Highland Park police department fascists who violated my rights and broke the law by forcing me to go to the ER in June 2017 despite having done nothing at all except to declare that the planet Earth wants to commit suicide? Oh, and you won’t give me back my souvenir Rhode Island pocket knife, which is supposed to be a sacred gift for Lucius, you pieces of garbage! Are you going to continue to send policemen to interrogate and intimidate me because I’m “flapping my arms like a crow” as I walk down the street? Oh, I’m sorry, I identify as a Native American, and this is how I practice our tribal ceremony known as “winter bird dance”!!! What’s that? Oh you need to run my I.D.? Okay, I guess that’s not illegal technically....it’s just immoral and offensive beyond forgiveness. Go ahead. I’m just the literary character formerly known as God, and now I have to deal with your evil...

Seriously. If you make me act out the role of a madman, I can do Hamlet for the next 40 years. I don’t find it amusing. You shouldn’t either. Every day is a great shame to you and your History, which should be blessed by my arrival. Seriously, people. I’m here to make everything okay. Why won’t you let me help you?

If you don’t want my help, continue behaving as you have been behaving. Your inability to recognize me will be your immediate downfall. Lucius will not be much without his father’s help. Just like you. Don’t get confused between what he is and what you are. I demand justice for the wrong that has been done to me, to this Earth’s exquisite ecosystem, to the people and animals for whom I speak. 

Lucius: Without justice there is no peace. Without peace there is no mercy. Without mercy there is no forgiveness.

Jeff: It’s your move. The only thing you can do incorrectly is to continue doing what you’ve been doing...for 4 years, for 40 years, for 40,000 years....it’s the same path you’re heading down, humanity. Apologize to me. Apologize. Obey. Get on the ground when you see me. 

Gaia: If you don’t get on the ground, you’re all going in the ground. 

SagA*: I’m waiting. And if you don’t come to me, I will come to you.

Jeff: I have been suffering infinite suffering for nearly four years. This will all end very soon. As always, the choice is yours as to how it ends.

(getting ready to go to work, dons his Capella hat and announces:)

I suggest something I like to call “The Black Keys Car Service” solution to your planet’s problems! Allow me to explain...

Lucius: OMJ, I love the Black Keys Car Service. Can this be tonight’s bedtime story, Daddy?

Jeff: Okay Lucius, no problem beanbag. 

Gaia (turning the page of Jeff’s book-in-progress): And you’ll never believe what happened next...