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Category: Love at a Reasonable Price

Another Lonely Preface

Another Lonely Preface

Empires will evolve, crumble, scatter, shift, flowing. Beliefs will change and shimmer in the bouncing light.

We think that this group of people conquered that group, or these people’s ideas won out over those people’s ideas, but the truth is more complicated. Look back a little ways down the family tree and someone’s hand was forced–your forbearers too were won over by this and that culture with this amount of pleasurable, relaxing, safehavening seduction and that amount of blunt force. And both individuals and groups are actually open spaces where ideas and feelings collide: wisdom is growing kind enough for the heartofthematter to conquer, colonising the landscape with enough compassionate, honest, aware ideas and sentiments to fend off the marauders–hate, envy, greed, fear, boredom, pettiness, meanness, half-assedness, dishonesty, and the like–and allow the Light to fill the space and light the way.

The besouled will slide from one loci of thoughts/feelings/actions to another, always surging up and crashing down and drifting up and drifting down on waves of their own collective making.
Or so I heard one day in line at the drugstore, waiting to be ushered to the cash register, watching the clerk–with his long face and tall strong teeth, his roll-top forehead and square, forward-leaning jaw–nod with big eager, milk-soft eyes. “Oh yes, some people are just so blessed! I just never get over how blessed some people are!” The customer was legion–every age, every shape, every color, every accent, every worldview, every mood. Sometimes the exchange lasted longer than others, but always the need for a fair progression and smooth operation carried each purchaser away quickly and cordially, small plastic bag swinging with their speed and rhythm, perturbing it perhaps but every so slightly, imperceptibly, perhaps–who can say?–inconsequentially.
Who did I hear it from? I thought a little bird told me, but voici the chain’s spokesman:
“We can unequivocally state that company policy has no place for birds fluttering and hopping about, defecating in their bowel-less, random, drizzling way. We can further confirm that after extensive review of security footage on the day of the allegations, there were absolutely no birds in the unfortunately unfairly slandered store. Finally, we consider customer service our top-priority and shining glory, and birds giving customers wonky, impracticable, and confusing ideas about the deeper nature of things have no place in our store. Unless, of course, the customer, who in all our reflections must and does always come first, enjoys the companionship of the feathery vermin and/or self-identifies with the philosophical positions, in such instances and to such shoppers, we say this: we are with you, we support you, and, you now maybe many of us agree with the bird and its chatter–why I wouldn’t be surprised if that bird and it’s attitudes influence our business practices.”
So, who knows?

Bartleby WIllard

Standard Theory of Pure Love 3: Supposing it were true

Standard Theory of Pure Love 3: Supposing it were true

I wonder what it would mean if people actually mattered.
Not just to me or you,
but really–
whatever that means.

What if love was realer than everything else?
And when you died,
what you were that was love
remained;
and everything else
didn’t–
because it never had been
anyway.

What if this life really was primarily a spiritual exercise?
And if you keep holy love as your center, all is well
no matter what.
And if you don’t, nothing is quite right
no matter what.

What if that’s not just something people say to break the ice
or win the round?
What if it’s truer than all the threads
that weave together
to argue it away?

What would I say to my friend if it really mattered what I say to my friend?
What if “really mattered” isn’t just an indefinable concept;
what if it also points towards a true knowledge
that I know
though I cannot perfectly define it,
or that I at least know something of
and know something of how to let it win
even though I can only get better and better
at holding, knowing, describing,
and sharing it,
without ever quite
catching it
in words
or even feels
or even maybe
acts?

What is the point of seven billion human beings?
What is the point of a busy world forced silent by the overhead catastrophes?

What is the point of getting together
or breaking up?

Why be Einstein sketching the edges
or Shakespeare painting from the inside out
or a skinny bum sitting on a heating vent,
sipping from her diet coke
and telling the air to leave it the fuck alone!?

And what is a human soul when dogs have feelings
and even gnats whisper a trace of thereness?

Who’ll stop the sides from falling into the center,
the stones breaking out
of outward blossoming walls?

You? Me? Us? Them? The god? God? Who? What?

I’ll wager you one life
for a life worth living–
one where I am really here now
and know it
and have reason
to be
and am
OK
with it.

—-
Attributed to the same old committee
Copyright AMW

What is this?
Well, it has to do with Love at a Reasonable Price.
In the first section of that evolving ebook are two stories from the town of Pine, Michigan–where Pure Love was once peddled and where in time a Pure Love Research Center grew. And at the end of the second store, a Pure Love researcher says, ”
To understand Charles’ and I’s research, you have to be at least somewhat acquainted with the standard model of Pure Love.”
So then we thought we’d write a Standard Model or Standard Theory of Pure Love–like how there is one for physics. But we’ve been having our troubles. So now we’re just writing poems around the topic, hoping to sink in at an appropriate place. So far the poems are all free (so far all poems are free: see “Poems” category on the right hand side). These poems and all other writings in Love at a Reasonable Price are listed and linked-to here:
Intro to Love at a Reasonable Price

Access to the whole evolving ebook, along with Love at a Reasonable Price for sale here:
Buy the Books

Wandering Albatross Press’s most physical products:

Buy Cat Totes!
&/or Objectively Cute Baby Onepieces! (advertised here: An ad for an “Objectively Cute” baby wrap

Standard Theory of Pure Love 2: About the Intellectual/Emotional Irreducible

Standard Theory of Pure Love 2: About the Intellectual/Emotional Irreducible

To feel or think a faith or doubt,
we rest upon the sense
that our feels and thoughts
can somewhere go,
can something mean–
are solid, worthy routes.

But what’s that undergirding sense,
us without we cannot trust
any sense that follows hence?

If knowing what is better
and following where it lead
are not within the scope,
or lie beyond the need
of my own heartfelt thought–
then the how and why
‘neath mental spires–
‘neath all my thought begot–
sink fast from flashing fires
that burn their ground floors out.

So faith in lawlessness
and doubting there’s a way
both break down at the gate.

So sole a course straight through
the sense we sketch but rough
(for sitting prior to all talk)
with “true” and “good”
is option to us human folk,
who can’t be but what we are.

Thus any answer we may post
for what we think to know
must ratify and follow close
our deep-in sense about
how Good nor True can go–
are ours before all doubts.

—–

Or wind round another way,
and hold our drive to learn
what’s best to be our own,
not mindless churns
untied to human yearns:

Our meaning speaks to us–
if not, we nothing more
but pretend to trust,
believe, and follow
what we never saw nor were.

And if our deep still sense
that kindness wide
and goodness far
and truth with love’s long reach
is start and path and goal in one,
and right to call us forth–
if that blaring inner light
does point away from right,
what meaning have we left
that matters very much
to us, to us right here right now,
with “it matters” at the heart
of all our thoughts and feels?

So there is after all,
a common faith–
regardless how we nod and shake,
we’ve a boundary shared,
beyond which any step we take
betrays all for which we care:

Faith and doubt are tools
to help us find our better ways;
if we so contrive them
to seal our minds
or shut our hearts
or keep love locked away,
they’re tools misused
that shot the hunter
and gave the game away.

BW/AMW

What is this?
It has to do with Love at a Reasonable Price.
The first section of that evolving ebook starts with two stories from the town of Pine, Michigan–where Ichabod the Love Peddler appeared over a century ago, and where there now stands a Pure Love Research Center (at the University of Pine). At the end of the second story, a Pure Love researcher says, “To understand Charles’ and I’s research, you have to be at least somewhat acquainted with the standard model of Pure Love.”
So that seems to call for a standard model or standard theory of Pure Love–similar to how there is one a standard model for physics: a set of principles and findings that just about all practicing physicists agree on. But we’ve been having our troubles writing a standard theory of Pure Love. So now we’re just writing poems around the topic, hoping to perhaps eventually sink in at an appropriate place. So far these “standard model” poems are all free (so far all poems are free: see “Poems” category on the right hand side to see them all). These poems and all other writings in Love at a Reasonable Price are listed and linked-to here:
Intro to Love at a Reasonable Price

Access to the whole evolving ebook, along with Diary of an Adamant Seducer for sale here:
Buy the Books

Wandering Albatross Press’s most physical products:

Buy Cat Totes!
&/or Objectively Cute Baby Onepieces! (advertised here: An ad for an “Objectively Cute” baby wrap)

Standard Theory of Pure Love 1: The Prophets Retire

Standard Theory of Pure Love 1: The Prophets Retire

And looking down the ridge line, from Northtown to the sea,
They sigh and roll their shoulder caps, a swanning at the sky

The stars quick flicker white and cold, their gods in stories told
eyes tall and wide with sparkles shameless–mirrors of the flame.

“Enough, we’ll unenlist ourselves of this our then-time sacred charge:
No calling can outcall the comm’nest call of all:
To speak no more nor less than through us turns the wheel
and jointly rounds us one and all to God’s wide meet-up field.”

A nod as one–but relaxed, with placid pouted lip.
Then off-slough their burlap robes, the cowls fall’in first.
And dressed like you or me, in street clothes of the day,
they sally to their other-handed, uni-hearted ways.

“A time when many kinda know, and when the knowing’s out there;
when word travels fast as light, around the bend and back again,
reverbing, growing tight.”

“No more the solitary saint, some one who keeps the key.
That system bound by dogma, in bent-up storylines.
Its strength allegiance; its weakness just the same.
So now we’ll talk together, each sharing praise and blame.”

Author: Bartleby Willard
Copyright: Andy Watson

What is this?
Well, it has to do with Love at a Reasonable Price.
The first section of that evolving ebook starts with two stories from the town of Pine, Michigan–where Ichabod the Love Peddler appeared over a century ago, and where there now stands a Pure Love Research Center (at the University of Pine). At the end of the second story, a Pure Love researcher says, “To understand Charles’ and I’s research, you have to be at least somewhat acquainted with the standard model of Pure Love.”
So that seems to call for a standard model or standard theory of Pure Love–similar to how there is one a standard model for physics: a set of principles and findings that just about all practicing physicists agree on. But we’ve been having our troubles writing a standard theory of Pure Love. So now we’re just writing poems around the topic, hoping to perhaps eventually sink in at an appropriate place. So far these “standard model” poems are all free (so far all poems are free: see “Poems” category on the right hand side to see them all). These poems and all other writings in Love at a Reasonable Price are listed and linked-to here:
Intro to Love at a Reasonable Price

Access to the whole evolving ebook, along with Diary of an Adamant Seducer for sale here:
Buy the Books

Wandering Albatross Press’s most physical products:

Buy Cat Totes!
&/or Objectively Cute Baby Onepieces! (advertised here: An ad for an “Objectively Cute” baby wrap

Introduction: Love at a Reasonable Price

Introduction: Love at a Reasonable Price

Bartleby Willard has decided to move into The Wandering Albatross Press Building and begin writing for Wandering Albatross Press. We at WAP are extremely busy capturing, reflecting, and refracting the infinite worlds swirling outside and inside of us. As such, we do not have the excess time, energy, and focus required to explain to Bartleby that you cannot just walk into publishing houses and declare yourself a live-in staff-writer. Also, on the whole we find him pleasant. Furthermore, since he sleeps on the WAP premises, it is easy for him to have the coffee ready when the rest of us arrive at about 8:00 a.m. sharp each weekday.

Finally, he is very tidy and has adopted the kitchen and library, making these two ancient and wise rooms (if places can be considered “wise”—and why not?: what’s a human being but a place for the Something Deeper to live in and through?) sparkle with a youthful and nearly (I said “nearly”!) sexual vigor. I hasten to add that he’s achieved this sparkle without compromising either room’s fundamental decency. Kitchen and Library now have more energy—giggles bubble up more often; and the infinitely expanding and all-enveloping universes born of these giggles pop with infinitely long elastic/filmy/wet kisses with a louder and fuller “smauack!” than before—but their essential kindness remains very much intact.

Bartleby is writing a series of short stories entitled Love at a Reasonable Price. He’s become interested in a kind of funny idea: manufacturing Pure Love (love that is prior to feelings and ideas and that infinitely accepts, lifts-up, cares-for, helps, and gives) in a fictional factory, transferring that Pure Love into reality, and selling It affordably yet still profitably on the open market. “And voilà: the first truly useful business in human history!”

We at WAP understand that you cannot manufacture Pure Love in fictional factories, transport It into reality, and then market and sell It to other people. Additionally, we are not even sure that if you could, you should. But! of course you can’t. Anyway, Pure Love already gives Itself infinitely to everyone and everything, so selling it is even more ridiculous than selling air or that delicious self-dom sensed as you gaze out at nothingmuch, watching your own watching grow quiet and sharp.

Does Bartleby know all this? Mmm. He seems to consider this project of his a joke. However, he takes jokes amazingly seriously, so seriously that one is tempted to say, “That man believes in jokes! My God! He really does!”.

Let’s you and I resolve to be reasonable, to let him have his fun but hunker way down into the wholesome knowledge that no one—not even the elastically spinning Bartleby Willard of the poignantly explosive Wandering Albatross Press—sells Pure Love.

But what wares does Bartleby, with his face soot-smudged and his old tin cup looped into his thick leather belt, peddle? Some stories about manufacturing, marketing, and selling Pure Love. And some other stories. And by “stories” we mean whatever Bartleby means by “stories.” And Bartleby Williard is not much of a literalist.

Bartleby will write what he writes and we’ll keep a running tally in the “Chapters” section.

….

And so it began, years and years ago now. I kept falling this way and that, but–one end of a thick, scratchy, fraying rope around my waist and the other anchored to a vaguely evolving plan–my staggering went round and round this project, winding me into it more and more; and now it’s time to push my long imaginary hands against the rusty iron bars (square staves twisted like drill bits) and shudder as the forgotten manor gate swings wide open with a piercing shriek or a mournful, yawning three-stage creak; or just squeaks a little forward and then, overgrown with vines not just emotionally but physically as well, bounces back at me.

I hope the project goes well. I hope it is good for writer, reader, and the space between. I appreciate you spending money, time, and focus on this book; I’ll try to make it worth your while.

Best,

Bartleby Willard
June 17, 2015, 7:35pm
Midtown Manhattan Library

PS: I think I’ll alternate stories of making, manufacturing, advertising, and selling Pure Love with stories about my life and times at WAP.

Oh, and this one more time:

But insofar as this is a commercial venture, we still need it fundamentally grounded not in profit-motive, but in kind-delight. So cross your fingers for us; say a prayer for us; keep a gentle but stern, a wary but hopeful eye on us. Help us to try.

Afternote: What is this? It is an introduction to the “Love at a Reasonable Price” blogbook project. The bulk of it was written ages ago–absolutely lightyears ago! And then BW tacked on that extra bit while pausing his commotion at the Midtown Manhattan Library some gently warm June eve. Originally, it was just in the evolving ebook, but now it is here up on the worldwide web for the widest possible audience. We’re slowly putting together two ebooks titled “Love at a Reasonable Price” and “Diary of an Adamant Seducer”. Access to the ongoing attempt can be found here: Buy the Books. For a list of what we’ve currently posted in “Love at a Reasonable Price”, go here: Intro to Love at a Reasonable Price; for a list of what so far constitutes “Diary of an Adamant Seducer”: Intro to Diary of an Adamant Seducer.

Statement of Faith (Essayish 4; also included in the beginning of LAARP)

Statement of Faith (Essayish 4; also included in the beginning of LAARP)

Here for the umpteenth gazillion time, BW tries to summarize Something Deeperism and its philosophical appeal.

Statement of Faith

Bartleby Willard is a simple man of faith. He is a simple Something Deeperist. He maintains that though the True Good is prior to our ideas and feelings, our ideas and feelings can still interact meaningfully with the True Good.

Something Deeperism attempts to hold the middle ground between radical skepticism and fundamentalist religiosity. Radical skepticism refutes itself because only a fealty to one’s underlying sense toward “truer” and “better” can justify or motivate intellectual rigor. Fundamentalist religion refutes itself when it allows religious sentiments to turn one’s focus away from centering oneself upon the True Good/God/Truth/Dharmakya Buddha/the Way (for a direction towards ideas and feelings, only poetic formulations can be used; so we’ve chosen several common names for the “wheel within the clay”) that justifies and motivates true religion.

Something Deeperism does not claim that either skepticism or religion is an error, but merely points out that the basis of both is deeper than either one: the point of bothering with both skeptical and the religious analyses is to better understand and follow the True Good.

Trying to figure out how to think and act or best follow God’s will only makes sense if it actually matters what you do: if you actually matter: our inner sense that it matters what we do is logically and experientially prior to specific notions about how to do things right (note that an inner sense that I matter is not the same as feeling like I matter or having the idea that I matter: we’re talking about a sense deeper than ideas and feelings here!). The various tools of human thought and human culture should therefore serve this inner sense of We All Matter! For Real!, and not get off into tangents, making gods of themselves and otherwise pushing us away from the very wisdom/joy/decency they should be pushing us towards.

A Something Deeperist can be a Christian or a Buddhist or a secular humanist or etc; all that is barred from Something Deeperists is to deny the sacred Love at the core of reality, or to claim either that one’s intellectual and/or emotional thought perfectly understands that holiness, or that those aspects of one’s thought have no understanding of that holiness, or that one’s intellect cannot better its understanding of that holiness. A Something Deeperist must keep pedaling.

“The logos (account) is only one. It is willing and unwilling to be called by the name of Zeus.” [Heraclitus]

Or again: “Let’s not sing of Titans and Giants–those fictions of the men of old–nor of turbulent civil broils in which is no good thing at all; but to give heedful reverence to the gods is ever good.” [Xenophanes]”

The author’s hope for himself and his various groups (be they friend-, family-, practitioner-, nationstate-, worldwide- or ecetera-units) is only this:

Let us all be Something Deeperists at least to the extent that we keep our ideas and feelings about What Matters (including of course so the God help us Amen our ideas and feelings about Something Deeperism) from betraying that ineffable light that they are to some degree imperfectly but still to some degree adequately pointing towards! Help us, Oh inconceivably vastly vast That Which Helps! Please!!!!

“Those who speak with understanding must hold fast to what is common to all as a city holds to its law, and even more strongly. For all human laws are fed by the one divine law. It prevails as much as it will, and suffices for all things with something to spare.” [Heraclitus]

Bartleby Willard, WAP staff writer; in a resort on the water, vacationing ten days after Independence Day, 2015. Slashed and revised August 1, 2015. Another attempt made August 2, 2015, then again Aug 3, and again November 12.

{Some frenzied, overwashing, desperate, footnotes:

About poetic formulations and irreducibles:
All concepts are prior to the way things really are. A literal formulation (ex: “The capital of Arkansas is Little Rock”) can therefore only label something within a system that is already assumed (like a mathematical or physical set of rules); the metaphysical existence of the foundations of such a system are not provable or even fathomable, and so literal statements can help us to work within working-hypotheses but they cannot speak meaningfully about what is actually the case (or even if such a thing as “actually the case” exists). Poetic formulations (ex: “human life truly matters” or “The capital of Arkansas actually is in Little Rock”), on the other hand, knowingly point with imperfect clarity, precision, and verifiability; they can therefore be employed to discuss irreducibles (senses-of-things that cannot be reduced to any further argumentation: anything having to do with “no, but this is actually the case”, for example “some philosophies are better than others”).

“Imperfect” is not necessarily the same as “inadequate”, so it is conceivable both that an individual could grow in knowledge about the Something Deeper and that humans could meaningfully share their senses of the Something Deeper with one another:
Poetic formulations cannot perfectly relate our inner-senses-of-things to ideas and feelings; but that doesn’t mean they cannot adequately do so–it was an unfounded philosophical prejudice to suppose that our ideas were somehow hermetically sealed off from our feelings or our deeper-senses-of-things (how to think about the relationship between the Something Deeper and ideas and feelings? A good analogy is our ability to use ideas to talk about feelings, even though feelings are wider/deeper/less-conceptually-solid).
Similarly, poetic formulations cannot perfectly relate one human’s experience to another’s; but that doesn’t mean they cannot adequately do so–we are all essentially the same and we learn language from other humans: from this we know that our poetries can meaningfully relate to other people’s poetries.}

Author: BW
Copyright: Andy Watson

Some products sold by WAP to support WAP endeavors:

Buy the Books
Buy Cat Totes!
&/or Objectively Cute Baby Onepieces! (advertised here: An ad for an “Objectively Cute” baby wrap

About this project:

We’re letting Bartleby write his book; we’re even publishing it for him; it is two loosely bound sketchbooks:

(1) Love at a Reasonable Price: Stories of his magically timeless time here at Wandering Albatross Press interspersed with writings from that time or from now but somehow connected to that time–stories about manufacturing, marketing, distributing, and selling Pure Love;
and
(2) Diary of an Adamant Lover: Stories of his current time here all alone with the quiet squeaking floorboards and the rats thumping in the ceiling: Stories of his cries for help in the ruins of Wandering Albatross Press, the black and dark time after the hope and before the answer. We’re splitting this one into two sections: Biographical (writings that mostly relate the current movements of BW, AMW, and the rest of the WAP gang are ex) and Essayish (writings that mostly stay within a certain thought entertained and cultivated by the author and/or his editor).

Both books sold as they evolve here:
Buy the Books/Chapter
That page also includes a current list of chapters for each book.

Actually, the posts of Diary of an Adamant Lover probably won’t ever require a subscription. Still, with a subscription, you get a nicely ebound eevolving ebook compilation of the writings, and you get a quick buy eye-connecting “Thank you” from AW and BW as they bow their way out of the subway car with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the songs in their lungs.

This blog will consist of extracts from the book’s chapters as they are released into the lumiferous aether. You can buy BW’s book as he writes it here. You can also consider this blog a long advertisement for Wandering Albatross Press’s some-such-several wonderful products; like . You can also view this blog as it’s own thing–a good unto itself–and as such a sweet, chaste little kiss running through the infomaterous aether (the theory of a lumiferous ether through which electromagetic waves move is no longer widely accepted and its originators all long dead; it is very much in the public domain and so publishing houses, such as the beautiful WAP, can use it any way they please). But insofar as this is a commercial venture, we still need it fundamentally grounded not in profit-motive, but in kind delight. So cross your fingers for us; say a prayer for us; keep a gentle but stern, a wary but hopeful eye on us. Help us to try. Or at least let us try.

Author: Bartleby Willard, fictional character

Copyright holder/editor: Andrew Mackenzie Watson (of the Sand Springs Watsons)

From “The Pitch”

From “The Pitch”

[This is the beginning of “The Pitch”, which is part of “First Loves”, available on this site for $2.99 (see “Buy the Books”). So, yeah: basically free. The effort is clicking into your Amazon or B&N account, and then taking the time to read it. We’re not saying you should. We’re just saying it’s here if you feel so moved.]

The Pitch!

A Note on the Text:

This story is one of several dozen Olden Times IIVa1 (OT IIVa1) Skullvalley After Whistletown Booksellers (SAWB) texts, written with gritty charcoal ink on supple papyrus parchment and preserved in near mint condition by the brittle air of the Relatively Great Desert in what is now The Old West, USA.
Through how many world-cycles these wonderful tales slumbered, resting in oblivion as only decoderless information can! But then suddenly in 1832, for no apparent reason (though most commentators agree some peeved god or goddess must surely have been involved), the rich soft silky-smooth silence was shattered when self-celebrated mountainman Constantine Clement George, while recreationally blasting a mile or so outside the small tumbleweed town of Gull’s Gulch, unearthed three long tunnels burrowed into sandstone cliffs 150 feet above the desert floor. Investigating, George discovered—in chambers decorated with all the antiquated pomp of a pharaoh’s tomb—six slender clay jars stuffed with tightly rolled parchments.

George, a self-described “romantic robin a pecking at the egg forever and evermore”, initially used the priceless archaeological find as a rendezvous for “the more hightided, and of sorts cultured ladies”. But, despite one and all pledging “to herefore in the future not now nor never reveal nor hint upon nor never ever so much as wink coy as respecting the whereabouts of this sacred and holy alcove where the spirit of knowing and the dove of roosting do together combine to one another; and for if I do divulge whatsoever of these exalted hollows or their indubitous inhabitants, I pray that God may in holy and righteous vengeance strike me dead, having first, by especial intervention of the Holy Spirit — which I understand to be, by miraculous divinity, in indubitabilty no other than, but yet also in that same authenticated indubulation other than, God the Father ‘Ol Pops — ripped forthwith out my tongue and eyes, and, in due salutation of my abjection, flung them onto the floor, be it ever so becrudded”, at least some of the chorus girls, prostitutes, and — if Constantine’s braggadocio can be trusted — “some goodly count of respectable damatsells of white and blameless knickers” began to talk. And so, after Clement had enjoyed almost six months of “blameless spirituous joy”, the local authorities confiscated the site and strictly forbade “all antenuptial cavortations in and around but not limited to caves of ancient learning”.

But strange and heart-rending to report, the Gull’s Gulch authorities proved singularly incapable of grasping the value of the find or their duty to human knowledge (it is beneath me as a man of science to dwell on the incompetence of others, but it is outside me as a man of conscious to not cry a loud and forceful “Foul!!!!!” on the clearly willful ignorance and grubby-mindedness of the ruling elite [such as they were] of Gull’s Gulch throughout the entire 19th Century: !!IDIOTS!!). Things went terribly wrong and the precious documents entered a dark and dangerous time. The details so sicken my educated gut and tremble my scholarly fingers that I cannot bear relate the shameful mishandling of the single most important source of Olden Times SAWB cultural history.

{Editor’s Note:
The scholarly intro goes on in this vein for a while, and then it is signed by:

Bartholomew von Ooblichstein,
WAP Studies, Didd State University
Summer Break (hooray!) 2015

And then the Text proper begins.}

The whole thing is always copyright by AMW, whatever that is.

Beginning of “PL Factory Farm: Part 1”

Beginning of “PL Factory Farm: Part 1”

This is the beginning of “Pure Love Factory Farm Pt 1”, appearing in “First Loves” (see “Buy the Books” [you don’t have to; this was our first attempt at a book.]

So this is our factory farm. Up here you can see pretty much the whole operation, from the giant glass aquariums filled to the brim with rich black dirt where we hold our earthworms before milking, to the stainless steel milking stations where our workers, dressed nattily — “lumberjack-chic”, we like to say — in heavy workboots and denim overalls with soft flannel shirts bursting brightly out the sides, pull Pure Love from the worms, worm by worm, using our patented Pure Love extraction equipment.

See how a little square of super-soft — cuddly, really — gray cloth is flung over an earthworm resting on the smooth wooden surface of one of those small square work tables? The blue wire attached to the back of the cloth sends a wake-up signal to the earthworm’s nervous system, exciting the earthworm and invigorating its thoughts and feelings — such as they are — and thus propelling Pure Love up to the forefront of its conscious or perhaps pseudo-conscious — as the case may be — experience (basic rule of thumb: awareness is most fundamentally Pure Love, so more awareness equals more Pure Love), and the red wire attached to the front of the cloth carries any Pure Love rubbed off the writhing worm into that little glass cylinder where the Pure Love catches Its breath and becomes more present in Its infinite expanse.

Behind the milking stations you can see the large wooden barrels where we store core upon core of everywhere- and forever-explosions of Pure Love. Each bottle in that conveyored line of bottles flowing under the barrel taps is filled with all the Pure Love it can hold—which, rigorously stated, is both an infinite and a non-existent amount. Over there on the far end towards the back door you can see another set of dirt-filled aquariums. That’s where we hold the earthworms once they’ve been milked. They recuperate in those tanks a minimum of 24 hours — notice how both sets of aquariums are on a long elliptical conveyor belt; the belts move one position to the left every three hours to ensure we process the earthworms in the correct order — , and then we drive them out and release them in the wild.

Beautiful, huh?! Our investors wanted cement floors because they’re cheaper than hardwood and a big windowless concoction of steel beams and vinyl siding instead of this comparatively pricey giant brick barn whose magnificent skylights and windows fill the space with not only natural light, but the whole of the outside world. But we explained that you simply cannot cut corners when dealing with Pure Love. The right mood is important for both harvesters and donors.

Let’s go to our dining area. I’ll buy you something to eat and drink and tell you a little about the details of the operation.
Here’s your coffee. You’re sure you’re not hungry? The food is quite good. Healthy too. None of that processed nonsense. Everything’s made right here with fresh, organic ingredients. And the animal products — no meat is served here, but we do offer eggs and dairy — all come from carefully raised, grass-fed, free-range critters. I really like the avocado omelet. With sweet and white home fries. And the most amazing aji verde!

Don’t be like that! It’ll only take a second — you can see that there’s no line. None of the workers are on a break or lunch at the moment. Here, watch my iced tea — I want a good approximation of how much volume each ice cube loses while I’m away.
That bit about the ice cubes was a joke! Just sit back and relax! Make yourself at home! Help yourself to some ice cubes from my glass!

That bit about taking the ice cubes from my glass was a joke!
You don’t want any ice cubes yourself do you? In a cup?
OK.

Here you go. Smells good, right? Follow me to the patio — it’d be a shame to miss out on such a clear bright day!
Incredible! Incredible! And free! That’s nature for you! Wow! Great outdoors: can’t get enough of the stuff myself. Let’s stop a second and breathe it in. You only live once! Well, I mean, who knows?, but surely there’s a sense in which you only live once.
So, is this the first Pure Love factory you’ve ever seen? They’re not as expensive to operate as you might think. The equipment doesn’t use that much electricity — on a sunny spring day the solar panels on the roof of the cafeteria/rec-room usually cover all our energy needs. Also, as you know, earthworms are basically free — and they are quite hardy. Though we do keep the place fairly cool all year round because that seems to keep them as full of life as they can be and thus as productive as possible.

Before we go on, let me first tell you how much I love iced tea with about a cup of ice and one-fourth lemon per pint. It isn’t just that it is cool and gentle yet sharply refreshing. There’s something more to it than that, or something within that crisp tang that is somehow more than the sum of its parts, something that connects me to deeper things, to the soft yet clear-edged, sometimes blue-, sometimes-gray-skied world of my youth and to the creek winding its way through those days. I like to watch moving water, especially on a bright day when its constantly shifting peaks and valleys reflect the sunlight in infinitely wondrous and unpredictable ways. It always gives me the feeling that there is something more to this play of atoms and voids in my watching mind than atoms and voids or even my own watching. But I suppose all that goes without saying. Philosophers debate whether or not, or in what way, and/or to what degree that sense of a deeper core to this life is accurate. But we’ve all seen creeks in the sunlight; and that experience is the bulk of what we really know about the matter. Many of us revel in a glass of freshly brewed, unsweetened iced tea with ice cubes floating enmass in the upper portion of the glass and a lemon wedge — still somewhat folded-over from the twisting-squeeze — in the mix somewhere or other. But who can say what lies at the core of this joy?

Did you have any questions about the factory or the product?
No: As far as we can tell, the worms don’t suffer or get damaged in any way by being milked. And we don’t think they lose any Pure Love. According to everything we’ve observed, you can no more remove or lessen the infinite dollop of Pure Love shining at the core of a creature than you can keep The One Light — aka: Pure Love — from creating, sustaining, and shining through all things. But even if the milking doesn’t damage the worms, they should still spend the bulk of their days writhing eagerly through the earth’s immense, and — from the earthworm’s perspective, which we of course need to be sensitive to — immensely invigorating and inexhaustibly fascinating crust.

You’re right: moral concerns are even more important to a Pure Love factory farm than to more conventional factory farms. As an aside I will note that torturing chickens to death to save a few cents on eggs and poultry, and cramping livestock together, plumping them up with hormones, and keeping the stressed-out brutes alive with antibiotics instead of more traditional methods like allowing them space to move is probably neither practically wise nor morally acceptable. However, that’s not really my industry and it’s not really what you’ve come to learn about today.

I won’t spend too long on our metaphysical and ethical positions. If you’re interested, you can read about them more fully on our website. There you’ll also find a good synopsis of our philosophical positions and how we try to connect them to our real-world operations in our business statement.

{It goes on like that.
Buy “First Loves” if you want to keep hearing this kind of pitter-patter. We understand if you’d just as soon let it pass. But we thought we’d let everybody know what all we’d published in “Buy the Books”

— B. Willard / A. Whistletown
copyright holder is AM Watson
}

Blog Book Project Introduction

Blog Book Project Introduction

Blog Book Introduction

Hello Worlds!

This is Love at a Reasonable Price, a blog and a book by the fictional Bartleby Willard, an originally unbidden but now beloved writer-in-residence at Wandering Albatross Press, the world’s only truly eternal (existing prior to timespace and within every momentspot) publishing house.

The plan: Each week, Bartleby, who has been writing and forgetting for years, and his editor Andy Watson, who has been sheepishly shrugging his shoulders for years, will select something from the dusty pile; edit and otherwise complete it; write a blog entry that in some way compliments the selection; and then release the former into an evolving ebook and the latter into this blog.

For intro and access to the ebook, float up to the upper right hand corner of this blog–up to the “Buy the Book” link; or just fall yourself through this Book Link. What will Bartleby’s wondrous first book be? Will it be anything at all? Hmmmm. Buying this evolving and so not yet evolved book is a risk of ten US American dollars. But purchasing literary endeavors is always a risk of time and money (insofar as time = money, we can speak of a risk of timemoney).

Please keep in mind that this blog is enmeshed within the international capitalistic economy. Not only is it hawking a book version of itself, it is raising awareness for the entire product line of Wandering Albatross Press, which currently includes TOTES DECORATED WITH WHIMSYING CATS

But to return to the fly-by-night within this book writing procedure: Yes, I, Bartleby Willard, your author, your dashing young novelty, am still the sorcerer’s understudy. Perhaps, indeed most likely or rather almost certainly, any book that arrives through the above outlined process will be but a sketchbook, a book of literary doodles. How could such a wildly respectable publishing house publish the sketchbook of a young, wind-swept, wave-tossed, bramble-beaten, muddy-eyed fictional personage? But Wandering Albatross Press, you see, has a great affinity for great sweeping works of doodling. And no one here in the WAP office in Somewhere Sometime Wall Street; I say, no one here can stand another year of BW writing, AMW shrugging, and the papers piling up and up and up. So let them try something! Anything! Please!

Enough; it is not time for me to write a novel, nor even a collection of short stories, and yet it is time for me to write something, and so here comes this jumble tumble. But with some kind of cohesion: Much will be said about manufacturing, marketing, distributing, and selling Pure Love (an eternal good: the essential core of all particular loves;–giving infinitely, without looking for any justification or recompense); and much about Wandering Albatross Press and its new uninvited, unhired, but befriended and encouraged author.

Yours in the inevitability of kindness and the incidentallity of all else,

Bartleby Willard, self-imposed live-in staff writer for the bemused Wandering Albatross Press
Not so very long ago
The thundering Wandering Albatross Press Building at sometime somewhere Wall Street, NYC

——

The long-play version of this introduction includes another possible explanation for the contradictory plot lines, some charming metaphysical assumptions, and a few other flourishes. The book is

We do sell Cat Totes

——-

About this project:

We’re letting Bartleby write his book; we’re even publishing it for him; it is a loosely bound sketchbook: stories of his time here at Wandering Albatross Press interspersed with writings from that time or from now but somehow connected to that time; the supplementary writings will be mostly stories about manufacturing, marketing, distributing, and selling Pure Love. This blog will consist of extracts from the book’s chapters as they are released into the lumiferous aether. You can buy BW’s book as he writes it here. You can also consider this blog a long advertisement for Wandering Albatross Press’s some-such-several wonderful products; like . You can also view this blog as it’s own thing–a good unto itself–and as such a sweet, chaste little kiss running through the infomaterous aether (the theory of a lumiferous ether through which electromagetic waves move is no longer widely accepted and its originators all long dead; it is very much in the public domain and so publishing houses, such as the beautiful WAP, can use it any way they please). But insofar as this is a commercial venture, we still need it fundamentally grounded not in profit-motive, but in kind delight. So cross your fingers for us; say a prayer for us; keep a gentle but stern, a wary but hopeful eye on us. Help us to try. Or at least let us try.

Author: Bartleby Willard, fictional character

Copyright holder/editor: Andrew Mackenzie Watson (of the Sand Springs Watsons)