Ep. 003

Ep. 003: Little Monk

an'da hole lot'ah dem was watched byda
quiet doe not sai'lent watcher
what do look upon us doe we was buggies.
if abandoned byda rooms of clock-times,
heartbeating'er breath away, like a snaek or
doop fiend. baeby yer tragik. ai say nuthin if
not roomantik.
'ee found rotted chapel doors, 'ee were frantik
li'il moonk, 'ee are da won to finder,
shee be yer won luv, yer won 'appenin,
yer beea'uty, yer bodee.
breeng thee'ah treh-zur chest'ah what ye raps in fabriks
'an feh'thurs 'an such witchy things az'that

the little monk came out the woodwork and nobody noticed. little monk would walk into a room, hands deep in the pockets of his silk, moving around with no particular purpose and nobody would notice. American's only notice purpose or gold he might say to nobody in paticular and nobody would notice. Little monk noticed all things regardless of their place in time and no thing was particular to itself. Little monk's aeonic odyssey could be described, though of course it cannot, as a Longing For The Individual. A thing which would put an end to little monk's gliding, floating, unending undulation. For little monk could not be described to have ever taken a step as none of his bipedal progressive movements were individual of any other. If little monk's sexuality existed it was a magnetic attraction for a thing so infinitely brutal, so hatefully savage in it's Individuality that he would be sucked into it with a singular perfect motion of comsmological release. It would be an endless orgasm of Singularity, of a thing which does not have a place beyond itself. Little monk did not expect to find this Thing, just as he did not expect anything.

a traveler. a tru marveler. looking upon everyting nondescriminately. two thousand two hundred and ninety years before the death of the Christ child, when such treasures as rings and gilded stiletto daggers and amulets were made of Amber Bronze, Little Monk was an explorer of cities for Sargon of Akkad, conquerer of the fertile crescent with his rudely contructed army of bronze spearheads and arrows and wooden chariots which left cities like scrap yards. Sargon, who had since childhood craved a confidant that would not be horrified by his monomaniacal domination, came across Little Monk in an alleyway of moss and dripdropdripping which made one feel as tho he'd come upon a little daemon nest. Monk was dragging a finger thru the thick wet green of the ally floor, drawing childish faces with no expression upon them. Sargon was seventeen then, only days after having murdered the Sumerian king. Sargon stepped in front of Monk and when Monk did not look up at his king Sargon lifted his chin and spoke,

"I bring death where I step. each bootprint represents the annihilation of thousands [how could he know that in truth is was the death of trillions?]. My ambassadors come to me, they speak of where new ore has been found, women who might bring me pleasure and prestige, new recruits to the army. I do not hear them. I have visions of a march of jihad which flattens culture, runs over society, even the very gods whose names my soldiers carry into war, of waving banners bearing the mark of the machine, of Progress which destroys all that came before, of the execution of those who live by rules of Justness and Peace which will never come. I have visions of the domination of the universe. It is an image of some horrific machine, constructed of a new material viscious and hard and infinitely more brutal than what man has ever known. a Material to kill Gods."

After that, Little Monk was the chief explorer and ambassador to Sargon of Akkad, serving him passionately until the conqueror's death. Then Little Monk disappeared and was not seen again for nearly 2500 years.