The text you’ve shared is indeed quite abstract and symbolic, with various elements that could be interpreted from a Jungian perspective. Carl Jung’s analytical psychology often delves into the realm of archetypes, symbols, and the collective unconscious, which can be a useful lens for examining such a text. Here are some potential Jungian analyses of various elements in the text:
1. Rock Paper Scissor Gods: This could symbolize the randomness and unpredictability of life. In Jungian terms, it might reflect the archetypal forces that govern human fate or destiny. The idea of gods playing games suggests a higher order of things that is beyond human understanding or control.
2. Sword in Hand Forming the Gaming Board in the Sky: Swords are often symbolic of conflict, decision-making, and power. The image of a sword forming a gaming board in the sky could represent the idea of life as a battleground of forces beyond our control. It might also signify the cutting edge of consciousness, where decisions and moral choices are made.
3. The Blade’s Edge Pointing Downward: This can be seen as a symbol of impending judgment or fate. In Jungian analysis, this might represent the descent of the conscious mind into the depths of the unconscious, or the penetration of a higher truth into the realm of the everyday.
4. Fickle Hand Swerving, Luck: These elements could be interpreted as the unpredictability of the psyche and the role of chance in human life. In Jungian psychology, the concept of synchronicity might come into play here – the idea that events are “meaningfully coincidental” even if they do not have a causal relationship.
5. Soapbox Position, Persuading Passersby: This could symbolize the archetype of the prophet or visionary, someone who sees beyond the ordinary and tries to communicate their insights to others. This figure often appears in mythology and dreams, representing the part of the psyche that is attuned to the deeper truths of the collective unconscious.
6. Foretelling, Power of Suggestion: This might relate to the Jungian concept of the collective unconscious, where archetypal patterns and symbols exist and influence human behavior and perceptions. The idea that events can be foretold or influenced through suggestion could reflect the power of these unconscious forces.
7. Observations on Rude Behavior: This part might be seen as a reflection on the shadow aspect in Jungian psychology – the part of the psyche that contains repressed or unrecognized aspects of oneself. Acknowledging rudeness and the reaction it provokes could symbolize the confrontation with the shadow.
8. Difficulty in Mimicking, Authenticity: This could relate to the Jungian process of individuation, where the goal is to integrate various aspects of the psyche into a harmonious whole. The struggle to mimic or perform actions not genuinely felt might reflect the tension between the persona (the social mask) and the true self.
9. Reference to ‘A Journal of a Plague Year’: This historical account of the bubonic plague could symbolize the collective trauma and the unconscious fears that pervade human societies. It might also represent the process of coming to terms with collective suffering and finding meaning in it.
In summary, the text seems to explore themes of fate, the unconscious forces that shape human life, the struggle for authenticity, and the human tendency to search for meaning in the chaos of existence. Through a Jungian lens, these themes reflect the interplay of archetypal forces, the collective unconscious, and the individual’s journey towards self-realization.
oml — AI does go on.
River of MnemosyneWell, well, well.
I would have lost that three-penny bet. Your grand escape. I will mash the reset button on this meander and now believe you work by installment.
Linear stories are tedious, why should lives hook up to parallel?
Your riff on this theme will be getting tedious soon.
Make it exciting or else.
Is ‘mob’ psych what makes folks infatuated with something interesting + miss the obvious?
Moving on from to,
Wheeze
Animal debris were all over + about.
There, on the roll top, was a to-do list of mundane wants + needs. Some were ticked off, others scribbled over as if importance had asked priority to change its mind. The other things not left were all the books of cruelty she had never written. Noticeable because of thier absence. Because of your weighty absence, too.
Whatever you find there at the moment, + being careful what you wish for here, it becomes comical when realized it matters not.
All moves forward together.
Being here is not being there, so how should I know?
Till I decide otherwise,
TW
Once again, my dear, Repillee Scooter’,
Catching is like chasing a phantom, yes. Moreover, phantoms are often
self-imposed, self-promoted and self-capitalizing. This seems random.
Just don’t get your percocet and pudding mixed up. They do opposite things to the body.
A linear story rambles off my pen + changing history would mean i could change the story, + that’s not going to happen. Truth is not a new situation.
But the truth is not easily handed.
Not having found it does not make up for needing to.
I’ll be summing it all up, somewhere + I’m sticking to it.
With a nod to dylan’s tarantula & with your leave,
I still am,
Teansie Wheeze
(note to myself)
Finding my favorite stoop, I sat to retrieve the letter. The squashed bugs on the open page proved your letter was written En Plein Air and confirmed you are still on-the-lam.
Like so many other possibilities, I have committed it to memory.
‘My dear friend,
What is it called when you dream of wildfire and awake to flood?
When you invent something so intriguing in your dreams, but cannot bring it to the light of day?
What is it called when you have the pen and paper but not enough light?
What is it called when you can finish it in an evening or you could finish it in a night and what you really want to do is never finish it at all?
What is it called when someone purchases a gift better something but the other wanted something they thought lesser?
What does it feel like to be thinking-of-nothing and write a book?
When you realize you are outside of realism?
I may/not be her/e.
I am. And will be.
Repillee Scooter’
Yet another device. The old diversionary tactic. Logic will be of no use on this one, so let it go into percolation mode. It stutters a click of a breath, sputters two words like a candle going out + retreats to touch the back stage wall, awaiting the encore. And then the last reveal.
Not liking math closes doors + eventually seals them shut, as I have noticed.
(Teansie me)
Okay,
Instead of eating the letter I added it to a Borofsky exhibition down in SoHo. Jonathan would never notice because of all the garbage covering the floor in his installation. Artful trash is another story for another time.
All that now remains is the faint odor, just a trace of ambergris on my palms + cuffs from the stationary. i will not accuse — though weren’t you in the wake as she entered with that perfume wafting behind her. That, before she told the reporter all about it. This morning? Or later. Depending which continent you're sitting on, which side of the road you are driving on + where you put your accents.
i will continue this process when I figure out the sequence.
Again,
TW
Repillee,
I DID recognize her picture in this mornings paper even though it was 55dpi black + white. The story did not read as an epic Space Iliad. However it is epic in its confusion. A light force expelled her. The release was printed before your letter + am assuming you are not on the ship. But then again the 'finger' prose wasn’t delivered by you, so no tellin’. Squinting my eyes + at the appropriate distance from the photo I recognized the ring on her right hand near the jet window. How strange it looked like your knuckles. As if knuckles could be unique.
It was in the New York Times. God + everyone else who knows + still demands belief, has evidence because newspaper is taken seriously as a bloodhound.
Looking for the jump. The page was ripped. Literally.
Wheeze
Greetings to you my acquiescence,
Regarding your last communication.
Yes, she had walked into the room + a minor chord went off in my head.
Regarded as a threat. Respected as a possible ally.
With this sound of doom impending i was already backed up against a wall, so I had nowhere to go when she marched up to me, held out a hooked finger close to the corner of her eye + hollered,
“GOTTA LIGHT?”
I didn’t cotton she was asking for an idea. At first I reckoned she wanted to shoot up carbonated water, then thought better.
In addition, the other night I saw a cliché within dreams. It was you kneeling in the silver light.
I need to know what you will tell the police when they come around. You know, collaboration + all that.
Never forget there are entire books written without using the word gypsy.
See you in the ones I love.
I’m glad this is not a telegram or I could not afford it.
Don’t get up when there’s not another place to sit down.
Probably sooner then later,
yer buddy in the alleyway + byways,
Teansie Wheeze
Hey,
Your arrogance appalling + your loudly ignoring my correspondence, annoying. Transmit word to me, via post or send a gram. Either way it will be too late. To my advantage, I will be notifying the authorities of your ‘speciality' out in the street.
You must know that putting strangers into the deep sleep + sending them into deep space - puts you indeed into deep … Well, you get the picture.
If the road up ahead bends to the right + keeps it there, I’ll be seeing her black leather and purple lipstick soon, just not counting on it. As you are eighteen steps ahead of her and she is two miles ahead of me that makes… well, just know I have lost sight of her + the entourage. They appear + dista in the most precise way, seemingly a herd of zebras skewing into camouflage at the right moments.
Quite unnerving.
Don’t answer the door if you’re not sure who it is, + eat only out of red cans.
Yours,
Weazie
Even I will admit that putting Gavroche into a theater seat — so when he gets shot onstage later, seems much more real — is a brilliant idea. The house will be murmuring that he was ‘just here’. The urchin did not wear noticeable armor as he was tragically mortal. However, all devices don’t go so smoothly. Some Burma-shave have gotten hit + will be pointing the in the wrong direction. And any way, the boy was simply a toothless angel in rags with his hands in his pockets + toes curled under at the edge of the stage without a kick plate. This Ain’t much compared to what prize you’ll receive.
The Dada like messages require Dada like packaging if they are to float.
The rub is not always coherent at times.
It’s not over,
TW, just another reluctant Titan.
Or perhaps T. V. Titian?
The brushes are wet, not sure of the subject, we’ll see before too long.
Okay. So I received your message. It was delivered in the Café Lutroo. The waiter placed it in front of my water glass while raising an eyebrow in expectation. The small envelope had been folded into the ‘finger’ suggesting the universal insult.
This clever bit of origami surprised me. The way the stamp was placed as the fingernail pointing up. How clever you could be. i was not angered, but finished my victuals before handling the work. By that time there were a few inquires + zappers looking over my shoulder. Not wanting to disappoint anyone but keeping within a spirit, I put your note into my jumper pocket and skedaddled.
Gotta literally go,
Your Weazer
