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| eric chaet |  | 1. MY TRIAL I’m preparing for the trial of the rest of my life. I’m accused of wasting my time & talents, colluding with evil, rolling with injustice’s punches, rationalizing, adapting, drifting along by reflex action. I know of no defense attorney who can help me. The laws are as different from justice as red is from green, or dissonance from harmony. No judge nor jury can be expected to sympathize, nor to understand the facts, precedents, or context. Whether I convince anyone of anything or not, whether the laws or even the State’s name changes, the trial for which I’m always diligently preparing has already begun—& will continue as long as I live. 2. I LIVE IN AN OLD HOUSE I live in an old house, not as well made as it might have been, but I’m grateful for the shelter. Before I have to surrender it for lack of breath or ability to pay taxes, & before it falls in on me, I work at shoring it up, improve what I can— shell & foundation, plumbing & wiring— & struggle within to create something valuable that will outlast me & this so-called civilization crumbling all around. 3. MECHANISMS Valves, siphons, pistons & cylinders; gear-trains & trip hammers; cams & cam-shafts— mechanisms of a thousand useful machines— creations of the creation, humanity. No one knows the inventors’ names, &, anyway, compared to what has become of them with refinement after refinement, what they made was crude—yet exquisite as dandelion, salmon, or Saturn’s rings. Beyond reverence, I’d learn to manipulate them for my own benefit & everyone’s, except those who take advantage of others’ weakness, ignorance, & desperation to expropriate & dominate. | |
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