chrisbhanlon

Very pleased to present below by theory of how the universe began.

Was fortunate to be standing in its direct path as it sped toward me and viewed the mysterious trajectory wide eyed. 

I put this up ready to have it disproven. Falsification of a theory, in my opinion, is even more of an anchoring stake in a cliff face than the theory itself. 

There was a moment when all  had to be decided. 

When an intellect holding some great combative purpose or noble hope, equivalent in contest were success on one side failure he other. Outcome to be decided, equal powers at play in chaos.

Whatever locked purpose was fixed distantly ahead in purely theoretical sight. 

The unknown intellect’s control was momentary but of vast and unchangeable consequence.

Sent forth were profound ramshackle causes tumbled inevitably into the future only some of which were marked.

Due to limits of ability to control was not able to direct and find paths for all results as would have wished. 

Idea of functionality in moment, a view to the future, what would happen, beyond adjustment other than in that moment.

Slipped through fingers as water split from hands. Can’t be controlled. Where the touch and deft angling can guide across the uneven ground just here, and direct in that moment the results to run through as causes running ahead all from the one touch. 

Some future events were vital to the unseen blueprint of purpose as time theoretically would stretch ahead. There was a chance to shape what must succeed exactly.

That touch at any moment shows can be seen in remnant, by combinations in random events to a greater or lesser extent of significant connected causes.

People can be bequeathed pillars of knowledge, see unexpected connections between natural events.

Leads this true thinking backward along fingers of causation.

Try to connect with them, to truly read them. Our kelpie dog watched me obsessed and unblinking in the storm on the roof, tried to understand as best it could in this dialogue between our species. Wondered what might have been my unknown overarching purpose.

Says she loved the punk band since she was twelve years old. 

These days considering her disability she rarely goes out however she felt compelled to buy the ticket to their show tonight.

There have been lines of asterisking circumstances, she says, for months that are meeting right here at this very moment with the two of us and soon the Rat will stand.

Three originals in the band however her heart beats only for Rat Scabies.

Has come to watch him play the drums, she heard that in his seventies, he’s just as loud in attitude and murderous limb, however as he said himself, we’re just another band now not a punk band any more. 

Street is taped off at the stage door where their truck will soon pull up.

I have to stop exactly there considering her mobility in that tight spot. 

When she sees Rat dreaming on the street he appears to be aimlessly watching a glass and steel shaped cut of aubergine sky up between two office towers.

The only place where I could stop was at his toes. She pushes through her smarting pain in a fevered grimace to get an uncooperative body moving before he is able to evacuate the scene.

The unseasonally warm night flows past us toward the tempering river just out of sight.