Play resumes.

 Play resumes. 

“What can materialists/monists do with myth, even metaphor,” – is Axel [continuing from here] proposing a tongue twister? – “but, ultimately, dismiss them. That is what they do: Explain them, then explain them away!”
     I don’t know, so I say, “I don’t know.” And I stop listening. I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself from stopping listening.
     I can hear, but it is as if Axel is speaking a language with no English cognates and sentences that don’t start at their beginnings or stop at their ends. I can hear, and I can see from his face and the way his hands twitch and rest, raise themselves to his chest, to his face, and return themselves to the desk – I can hear and see something of what he is going on about, but “in a mirror dimly,” as The Apostle says. It is like a dumb show, an art form I’ve never been able to appreciate, with sound; but the sound is a music I don’t appreciate either. Imagine a clumsy ballet to poorly-conceived metal. (I know, I need to expand my horizons.)

He stops. “Ted,” he says. “You’re not listening.”
     “No, I am,” I lie. “You’re right ...
     “ ... as far as I see what you’re saying, you must be right.” I turn the lie back into truth. Such as truth is, disheveled, bedraggled, grimy, sockless in ill-fitting shoes.

11.09.21