An English In Kentucky


















September 23rd 2010    Tim Candler

    These past years, the Close Mockingbird has occupied those parts of my mind that function in the traditional manner.   It is a wandering, certainly, but yesterday I did sense more certain movement in the space between my ears.   It was a sort of creeping thing that smiled.

    Probably Clausewitz was correct.  Life is perpetual war.  A mind needs something to hate and something to kill for, otherwise it festers into uncertainty and rottenness.  We disappear into isolation, our sense of the social vanishes and we become ornery and unlovable like phlegm.

    I tried to avoid inevitable fate through a tired attempt to reinvent character by an observation of dispute between my left and right sides.  I saw dichotomy and like a mental patient I heard the word balance.  But the sad fact is that neither side dominates, so I am wretchedly bi-polar, quite without harmony and yet cantankerous in my determination to remain cowardly.

    And I can say all this without blushing because yesterday the Close Mockingbird while he was savaging the Green peppers growled at me, which means there is a new King and I am his subject and all is proper. 

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