Location:Village of the Reeking Onion, 'Chi Town', IL
About Me: To the immediacy of surfaces in search of emotionally profitable veneers, I am materially quite irrelevant. In submission to the limits of a soul aspiring to a limitless Spirit, the bones of my flesh move just above the boundaries of necessity. Materialism has infected me so little, in fact, that the popular equation of having and being belittles me, but only in the thoughts of its believers. Which reminds me of a thought from the Bard and of a subordinate clause as the main in a world of syntactical sins and of fewer and fewer who care. My erratically tortuous endeavor is to become what I am as I believe, spiritually material to the immanence of a Substance imperceptible to the physical visions of the unwittingly metaphysically blind. In a world of division and pride wrought of fear dissembled in logical garb, I’m accordingly judged to be less. I am too much of an introvert therefore to be much of an extrovert here, except in the churches where the Pharisees of form so inspire me to marvel at their diminutive substance, that I occasionally comment and offend them. And, for the use of a mind that enables me to think at least reasonably well, I am grateful to Reason whose bi-gendered voice keeps whispering that to self-define is to self-confine, a denial of spiritual freedom and a prescription for melancholy, which sadly has plagued me and plagues me still, and which would have killed me in long ago, had it not been for the elixir of humor. So how can I be thankful to Reason, the occasional nurturer of Melancholy? I am compelled to be so by my dread of the chaos to be born of its unreasonable alternative.