Umbrellas Unopent in Tempests, Part LIX

What was rising up, unbidden (please take this “unbidden” (used here as if a synonym for spontaneity) in as in relationship to Itwethey’s project, to bid welcome to Guest) without effort, without consent, was “the picture of reality” which streamed in, via the most primitive of visual and smoothing technologies, (though cinema is not at all a primitive or crude technology or art or art-technology), cinematically, through the eyes, (aka as the eyes—those orbs which sit in the face and do their own flitting dance, personalizing the face, even giving it a soul, yes, it is self-explanatory),(movie-camera-jeweledorbitizedwized) a perfectly wonderful and entirely natural experience (to the point that to hold the camera and take the picture seems a redundancy, unnecessary, and to see seeing as anything less than perfectly wonderful and entirely natural and whatever else we might say about it—direct, unmediated, immediate, authentic, vivid, delightful,spontaneous, awesome, groovy—we know we harm our enjoyment of the world and our place in it by acknowledging that “the picture of reality” coming in through the eyes is NOT SPONTANEOUS. It’s highly doubtful (if it is sufficient to put it that way…It’s unlikely to the point of absurd, isn’t it?) the eye as eye takes a picture (or a moving picture) of reality NATURALLY…It is in light of the history of technology, medicine, labor, art and perhaps every other history that what the eye does has any relationship to not only cinema, but picture, image, and…

Natch, no one in their right minds wishes to hurt their own enjoyment. Whatever this convoluted, labyrinthine history associating the eye work with enormous ranges LIFE AND EVERYTHING, the nitty gritty is the part about hurting enjoyment. We do not unbidden, willingly, without compulsion, hurt our own enjoyment. Itwethey didn’t, nor did Guest. Itwethey loves looking at Guest—she-they is pictured permanently in Itwethey’s mind (both at the threshould (should thresh or thresh should) and just out in front, naked, holding firewood), and this image which thrusts pelvically into Itwethey’s sanctum sanctorum sacroiliac in that lower chakra where Itwethey gets the most vibrant of orbiting of Guest, both pantomiming like crazy, “the picture of reality” which in this case is Guest—IS GUEST—Itwethey embraces this image, “the picture of reality” and has the sense of offering worship—that’s what this embrace is. Looking at Guest can hurt enjoyment of Guest and Guest’s enjoyment.

Guest isn’t that thrilled to be worshipped.

No, Guest is thrilled and bored to be worshipped (One wonders, as one “worships” God, if God might feel the same.) Itwethey has always had this weird idea that there is this ability or capacity available to, as Guest’s thrill moves down into boredom, an edit, on some level, can be put in there, to rectify this. Extempore. From the hip. A “Book Him-Her” on count one of two of three. The wildlands delta, down there in the monstrous—surely after all the guff and effort placed on disciplining that region, once removed from that region—should be capable of springing up now, when needed, to provide a perfect rebalancing so Guest, in worship, is thrilled. (Just remember one thing, as you consider this, a lot of people never wonder, no matter how bored they are by adulation, whether worship of God, adulation of God, is love of God.)