Dating. Creation.

Keggerman engaged with the dating world. “You’ll be a ventriloquist,” said Kellerman, “No matter how you date.” Beatrice loved ventriloquists. Throwing their voice one direction or another. Explaining the something that came before the main act, explaining how the something before fits into the main act. Describing the next and after based on the arc of the main act. “The crux the start of the main act?” suggested Keggerman. “Birth the start and the heavenly company organizing for it” said Beatrice. The before canvas for pre-history, cave drawings subjective. “Leave space for the as yet unknown, the undiscovered,” Kellerman. “It won’t matter,” Beatrice. “Let distance grow,” Keggerman. Between the ventriloquists, the audience, the actors and anyone looking outside. From the wings, from above, from the stage even. From the audience, even. Controlling action and appearance an ever more important skill. “Date it from the start, of it all” tossed Kellerman, unknown. It’ll always be there: unknown. “You’ll lose the arc and the story. Attachment,” Beatrice. “So it is, with dating,” Kellerman. There’s always a trade, a balance. Going with eyes open only helps when we’re grounded, in something. In some story. Some attachment, for when the unknown of the present is too great, emotionfull. When the future feels potent, promise or doom. Potent. The stories matter. Attachment helps. Even to push against. “Though it’ll mess up the ones you’re pushing against,” Kellerman. “More so than finding a way to belong somewhere.” That’s an easier story for other people to follow: acceptance.

EXCAVATION

“The self becomes itself…often through strange acts of ventriloquism.” p. 245, Mysticism.