Tuesday, September 08, 2009

La Bazarette Le Flâneur

The man in the hat collected his thoughts itemizing them into boxes. One box was devoted to thoughts he’d thought but on further inspection realized he hadn’t; another was for cleaning thoughts that he wished to use again, ridding them of information and ideas; and a third box was allocated for things he hadn’t yet thought but might think sometime in the future. Some thoughts he thought, or thought he’d thought, were thought while sleeping, and as such were relegated to the box for dream thoughts, not conscious thought. Other thoughts were assigned to memories or past recollections, this box larger in size than the box for future or yet to be thought thoughts. Through trial and error he discovered that the box consigned to morbid thoughts was much smaller than the box assigned to sad sorrowful thoughts, the lacuna being that morbid thoughts didn’t effect him as much as sad sorrowful thoughts, the difference between the two modest yet significant.

Everyday thoughts thought while he was awake and at large seldom had an effect on him; the latent meaning revealed to him in sleep as dream thoughts, and as such assigned to the box for dreams, this box seldom if ever opened while he was awake, unless of course he fell asleep when he should be awake and conscious of the world around him. He was constructing a box for deluded thoughts or numinous reckonings, to be filed under ‘asylum thoughts’ shelved beside thoughts thought while sleeping. Should he discover that he had an extra box, he would catalog it under boxes yet to be itemized or numbered, for each box was assigned a numbered tag, his knowledge of the dewy decimal system relatively intact, regardless of numerous head injuries and a failing memory.

He bought boxes from La Bazarette Le Flâneur around the corner from the Oxbow Hostel. Le Flâneur sold him soggy lettuce boxes for a dime, apple and haddock boxes for twenty-five cents. La Bazarette was home to three chickens and a lame dog, Le Flâneur having a soft spot for strays and fowl. The chickens lived in a fenced off area behind La Bazarette, the dog under the Bergville oven in the back kitchen. The Oxbow Hostel, across from La Bazarette, housed an old style tavern and a billiard hall; Le Flâneur known to wile away his afternoons shooting pool with off duty cabmen and an occultist with a scabbed over scar over his left eye. At the rear of the tavern standing beneath a picture of Casimir Pulaski Martin Grimmway announces “In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play”, the cabman retorting ‘you will relive today over and over again, sit down you fool’.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

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