Telescopic Project

Deskside, where I hold court in the evenings and weekend afternoons, my spectacular IQ denominator presides, holding itself in contempt, loving every minute of it, and, like the little symbols for whales and birds, it eagerly anticipates the migration back North. Evidence precedes me, my old friends know me well. I scatter my one, benign secret into other secrets, and then type them into password boxes on the Internet. If password boxes could talk they’d bore you to tears, but if you could somehow monitor their dreams…I bet you’d find out a lot about people.

But besides all that, there is this word I know. I have literally met the word and extended my hand to it. It was a firm handshake. I can’t tell you what an impression it made on me the first time I met it – and sometimes, I think back to that first meeting: “what’s the use in worrying?”

The legend knew the word well and somehow never entered the arena of public disdain. It’s interesting because to me he transcends the spectrum of society that I grapple with all the time. So I test myself with that, the Legend’s Paradox.