Hippocampus Bridge To Janus

"But the real fierceness of desire, the real heat of a passion long continued and withering up the soul of a man is the craving for identity with the woman that he loves. He desires to see with the same eyes, to touch with the same sense of touch, to hear with the same ears." -- The Good Solder, loc. 1411

Well, okay. This is the website of Bianca Spriggs, and you never know why an editor will or won't take something. Allison Joseph and her team pay 25 dollars a page for non-fiction, over at Crab Orchard, and they struggled with "Crime Fighter Feline". Whereas Bianca *saw* my thematic intent toward expendable classes. I respect the fact she gave me the space, but exposure means jack shit unless you can capitalize and lock into a career, and I'm jammed on the issue of accreditation, although I could stretch the truth enough to get my foot in to a paying editorial position. Ms. Spriggs may have thought my curious memoir essay was a disillusioned riff on the mild side of Henry Miller; perhaps it was, but in another vein it could just have easily been about the evolution of a hard liner. She decided to publish it, and I decided not to look at myself too closely in the mirror, as it represented my first byline since 08. It could also represent adversaries keeping an open dialogue, as I'm nearly positive Bianca is a champion for progressive victory, as much as I've swung my stern to port on the Rhine-- but consider this an opening salvo for me to clarify messy reactionism surrounding ethnicity. Allison Joseph is, after all, an African American studies specialist in the vein of Sonia Sanchez, who I know slightly, enough to greet her on campus with smiles like flavored icicles, and maybe Allison's detection meter was discomfited by my ambiguity. Who knows? But Crab's byline would have had better market value, so you see, I'm trying to convey something about how we look at each other across the table.

My damage cannot be underdone, sadly, but what I am dealing with here is black power within the system: Why listen to someone like me if I deliberately skirt the cliff face of American segregation with provocative overtones?

Not that it is a question I'm prepared to answer this morning, though Dr. Sanchez cemented Cosby's stellar monarchy when he gave her a segment to read on The Cosby Show.

...

I need to find a place to stay, temporarily, within 6 weeks. This is me. If I do not leave Riverside Presbyterian, there will be hell to pay, and in essence, I am fucked, since I need people to help me pack, have to find them, get a storage unit, and beg a Mormon for mercy or what. I've read they will take a chance and help the fallen, but I am rabid and agree with Hitch that Joseph Smith was the wrong kind of anarchist and deserves to be pilloried. I have to get out of this building, and have to do it now.