Sad Sack

I have become aware of an individual known to myself only as ‘sad sack’. The individual drives a European licensed white Mercedes, and may be Belgian. My awareness of the individual began whilst I was researching (unsuccessfully) the poet R J Beasley. Later that night, I climbed on the roof of my old secondary school and gazed at the playing fields beyond. This was a short cut out of a cul-de-sac. My later acquaintance had been unable to find a way out of the atrium area, after a visit, accompanied by Sad Sack, to a kebab emporium in Stirlingshire by the name of ‘The Fountain’.

This fountain of knowledge, renowned for its late opening hours especially but not exclusively on Thursdays, provided sustenance at 2am last night, for the three of us (me, my later acquaintance, and Sad Sack. I had arrived earlier by public transport. From the roof of my old school buildings I could see the blurry image of the town beyond, however, probably in part due to watching High School Musical 3 earlier that evening while half asleep, the important features seen from the roof were features of the roof itself – skylights; tarmac; plant pots – a roof garden. It wasn’t quite a Buddhist mountain retreat, but it was in the same vein.

On the rooftop, I unfortunately awoke, but I feel I will return there. This morning I have been in heated debate about fonts, arguing vehemently the importance of frills; serifs; floweriness, against the notion that pure information is always best imparted through a runic purity and simplicity of font such as Century Gothic. My feeling is that warmth of feeling is of intrinsic importance to information content to be preserved and transmitted. I now realise that there is a connection between my visit to the Fountain, last night, and this font discourse. The font is the fount. The warm information has been imparted…

A Hunch

I have a feeling that Searly’s poetry rival, who produced the winning poem ‘from the sun’, may be worth investigating. I hear that often rivalries in poetry result in bonds stronger than brotherhood. (See J. L. Borges – a story of two artists in Argentina; the rivalry between them occupies every fibre of their being – it is their main drive in life, without it they would be nothing. If such a rivalry did indeed form between Searly and the author of ‘from the sun’, then we may find the same man (if a man) throughout Searly’s adult life, always there, in the background, informing Searly’s choices throughout. Every Newtonian needs an equal and opposite force to react against… Without it we could not move an inch.

Just a hunch. I always go with a good hunch…

Appendix 1.a. poetry transcriptions

Octopiithagoas

Behold the
Eight
tentacled
plane vision of the
architects of night

they dwell here
among us dreamers
they construct our dream
from eight eyes
one for each hue
the eighth eye is the eye of dark light

the rods thread us
through the eye
of the needle hurricane
we are one

behold
this creature has no name


From the Sun

Stript down t’ carburettor
Burnished sun eyes
From the sun

Spectral displays
Boreal lights
Flee the catastrophe

Youth seeks its own answer
Under t’ hood
Clouds parted by some Moses in corduroy
Beaming smile gracefully descends and then ascends
From the sun

Who Is Ron Searly?

ALL THINGS EXIST in spacetime, including Mr. Searly. He's on someone's paper round, someone's Christmas Card List. A Ron Searly is registered at the Jonestown library. A car registered to a Ron Searly was photographed by a traffic safety camera as it ran a red light on some Main St. in Massachusetts (it is unknown as to whether Mr. Searly was present in the car at the time). A Ron Searly paid the cheque for a birthday lunch enjoyed by three unknown white females at a Steak-n-Cake in Reno. He never said a word - they only discovered his deed when they asked the mousey waitress for the cheque. A Ron Searley collected $18.71 winnings from a bookmakers in Brooklyn for a bet he placed on a dodgers game, April 27th 1998. A Ron Searley was there when Beefheart formed his first band. He is reported to have told the captain 'don't do it that way - there's no coming back'.

Note from an interested party:
Find the tokens for Saturday bowling sessions with the mysterious ‘jimmy’. Find the empty tins of dogfood in his long island beach pad, with no other signs of pet ownership. Recount the strange notes found scribbled in his phone directory on the page of a certain Xavier Rheiner, coworker in the Bentley Cane Refinery, Florida.I want the FULL STORY of this guy…

My sources tell me: A Ron Searly has $3.51 of outstanding fines on his account at the North Carolina State Library and two overdue books - one on alternate food sources and an almanac of sewing techniques. Archival clippings from an April edition of the 1982 Pennsylvania Herald confirm that a teenage Ron Searley won second prize in the town's annual poetry contest, coming second to an R. J. Beasley, with poems titled 'Octopiithagoas' and 'From the Sun' respectively. Clippings from an edition of the Milwaukee Tribune, dated September of the same year, indicate that a Ronald Searley was cautioned after being found in a parking lot standing next to a bin fire with ash-tipped fingers and ashen face. He claimed it was like that when he found it. Without witnesses, the prosecution could not proceed with the case and all charges were later dropped. There is a bungalow in a southwestern suburb of Boston, the deeds of which bear the name 'Ron Searly'. No-one has ever seen anyone enter or leave the building, but delivery trucks are observed arriving regularly, sawing and hammering are often heard punctuating the afternoon calm, and the silhouette of a man was seen pacing between the two largest trees in the back yard after dusk a couple of weeks back. Neighbours have been known to ask 'what's he building in there?'