This post, a poetic treatment of the dilemma posed by the title, i.e., On
Celebrity and Anonymity … Prison … Vis A Vis … Freedom,
is, for the co-authors, a uniquely fascinating one;
the irony in … freedom … from … prison.
Arthur, a wannabe co-author, adds a verse daily to the tweet-suite, blog-log that’s a joyful labor
-of-love-manuscript in the excruciating … making. See
blog logs at chachomanopapa.wordpress.com and tweet-suites @chachomanopapa on Twitter,
(its analog) … a how to … save the planet … wannabe.
How excruciating is it? Painfully, yet blissfully, so. The co-authors once drank to forget.
Now they don’t … to remember. They traded their jackets and ties for
knee pads and slip-resistant shoes, in exchange for an impossible mission … to get
a deaf, dumb and blind planet to hear … hard knocking … at the door.
Alas, NaPoWriMo is over. However, there’s an exceedingly brilliant bright side to its termination;
for there is no good reason not to go on writing poetry, so emotive.
Accordingly, Arthur and his inter-galactic critter pals may continue on their impossible mission;
a mission … so creatively … palliative.
In prayer, Art has asked God if he’s gone freaking mad? He’s asked about you too. Really,
who’s sane? Was only he, mad? Or, alternatively, are all of you, too?
Really surreal ironies, across the ages, are clues. Nazca, Casee, eerie
ancient lore … and more; all … are clues.
It’d all begun dreamily; a precursor plan, unceremoniously panned, was an event
that led to Art’s asking God for a sure Way to a movement, invent.
His spiritual intervention came nightly in Arthur’s dreams and meant
that a Crew, in dreams, easily … came … and went.
A wretch fully as wretched as Paul and as regretful as Augustine, Arthur’s dreams
implausibly brought him some critter friends to make a silk purse out of a
sow’s ear. With the help of His spiritual intervention, in nightly dreams,
they conjured there … chachomanopapa.
Who, or what, is chachomanopapa? Chachomanopapa’s a means to an eminently desirable end.
Viral, not physical, it is less a who, than
a what. Moreover, it’s many things. One is a symbol of an idea whose time is at hand,
amongst them questions like, “What’s the plan … Stan?”
Chachomanopapa’s every two syllables are the Spanish diminutives for, boy, brother
and father, fashioned into an evocatively provocative single
word. The transcendences we undergo from boys to fathers and from girls to mothers,
mirror our lives… our challenge-laden crucibles.
Chachomanopapa’s meant to both noun and verb be; to be both that place on the net
where we’re reborn, learn, earn, and transcend to views that come
into view, from atop the mountaintop from atop which Dr. King (who can forget),
dreamt of a world … more like … His Kingdom … come.
Notwithstanding implausibility, the Crew knew exactly what to do, when to timely
do it, and how best to do it. Art gaped … dumbfounded. “See …”
they said, “… what you’ve done is good; for very good, expand it artfully, into epic poetry.
Write something honoring our Almighty … to forge … (wo)man’s destiny.”
Given a preference for the order in which to become apprised of mixed news, one
often opts for the bad first in the hope that the first
news will be mooted or mitigated by the latter. So what, when all’s said and done,
shall be … our good news … and what news … our worst?
The Yala Young Leaders facebook group is convening Sunday. Uri Savir, a former Israeli peace
negotiator, and the founder of the movement, has them,
for the third straight year, in a forum focusing on reconciliation online, and an elusive peace;
for only the online young may forge a new … nonfiction.
That is, for modern (wo)man some very good news for it is of the utmost importance
that all remember: “It’s not about me … It’s not about you. It’s only
about Him, or, as the case may be … Her. No one’s free until all, in transcendence,
live in peace … as (S)He … shall … in time … have it be.