{"id":2,"date":"2011-08-19T20:59:15","date_gmt":"2011-08-19T20:59:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.nielskunze.com\/?page_id=2"},"modified":"2016-07-29T16:13:14","modified_gmt":"2016-07-29T16:13:14","slug":"sample-page","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/blog.nielskunze.com\/?page_id=2","title":{"rendered":"Online Book"},"content":{"rendered":"

_________________________<\/strong><\/p>\n

Introduction<\/strong><\/p>\n

This is where we begin exploring the Collaborative Mind. I’ll write the first chapter of this novel. Then, I’m throwing it open to every reader to contribute subsequent chapters. I’ll stay on as the editor for the duration of the project.<\/p>\n

Everyone is invited to participate and there are very few “rules.”<\/p>\n

Send submissions via email to niels@nielskunze.com<\/p>\n

Your submissions for consideration can be of any length. A few words, if they’re just the right words, will be valued as equal to an entire chapter. Submit a poem, song, conversation or any other category of creatively arranged words. I’ll choose what I think might fit. I may also add bits and pieces myself as the story progresses for added cohesion.<\/p>\n

All submissions are subject to editing. I will always seek the approval via email from the author of each submission before including it and posting it to the blog. I want you to be okay with the editing of your work. I’m not out to steal your ideas, just to incorporate them in a coherent fashion. We are all sharing authorship, but for now I will be the sole editor.<\/p>\n

For early submissions, the subject matter is pretty wide open. There is no need to follow right from where I leave off at the first chapter. Take us in new directions to begin. Then , as we move deeper into our collaboration, it will become increasingly more challenging to tie our various threads together.<\/p>\n

Do not try to imitate styles of writing. Use and develop your own style. My challenge as editor is to make our diversity show its ultimate strength.<\/p>\n

The theme for this project is All Life is One…
\nTogether, let’s say nothing, and thereby insinuate everything…
\n____________________________<\/strong><\/p>\n

Chapter One<\/strong>
\nFerence and the Hippie<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Ference valued his life with the Hippie. It was easy. And interesting\u2026 in a WTF! kind of way. Food was the easy part for sure. Ference couldn\u2019t take more than three steps in any direction on any given Sunday without stumbling across yet another veritable buffet. Food\u2014 heaps and heaps of it\u2014 lay about pretty much everywhere.<\/p>\n

Perhaps it should be noted that Ference is a mouse.<\/p>\n

Food was no problem. Er\u2026 rather\u2026 food was<\/em> the problem. Oh sure, it was all splendidly delicious, a tad too sweet at times, but there was sometimes that other something\u2026 that thing that the food could do\u2026 Do?… Do to Ference?… To the world? It was an effect to be sure. What sort of effect, Ference couldn\u2019t be sure. He only knew that he liked it.<\/p>\n

So what\u2019s the problem?<\/p>\n

And I suppose that\u2019s where this story properly begins.<\/p>\n

On this given Sunday, Ference awoke to the evening\u2019s first shiftings and leanings toward twilight. He was freakin\u2019 starving! He listened a moment for the whereabouts of the Hippie, failed to locate him, but proceeded toward the kitchen anyway. \u201cMust be near impossible to be this hungry,\u201d he muttered to himself as he marched straight to the \u201cVerdant Fields.\u201d<\/p>\n

This was the area directly in front of the kitchen sink. The Hippie loved to eat over the sink. Okay, not so much over<\/em> the sink, but more so in its general vicinity. Consequently, the mouse-acres of floor which Ference had dubbed the \u201cVerdant Fields\u201d was more often than not strewn with big horkin\u2019 chunks of this, that and stupefying amounts of the other.<\/p>\n

Ference was looking for one of the greenish bits of \u201cthe other.\u201d Not that there was anything wrong with \u201cthis\u201d or \u201cthat.\u201d It was just that the greenish bits of other seemed to summon the\u2026 er\u2026 effect. At least that had been his experience the night before.<\/p>\n

The Hippie had been eating green cookies.<\/p>\n

Sometime later, Ference had stumbled upon the goodly remains of the green cookies amongst the Verdant Fields\u2019 generous offerings. They had been sampled, re-sampled, extra-sampled and perhaps even over-sampled in relation to the non-green-cookie foods nearby. Ference had been deeply affected.<\/em><\/p>\n

He was still feeling the effect now, but it merely sat like a contented child quietly playing alone behind the raving monster that was his hunger. He stormed upon the Verdant Fields, checked a morsel of this or that, and rejected it; checked another, and rejected it; again and again he rejected<\/em> them. This was a strange hunger indeed!<\/p>\n

And then, splendid green! \u201cOh other, how I love thee! Let me scarf thee down!\u201d And there! Another small piece! And another! Fragments of reality\u2019s unglue\u2026 the loosener\u2026 magic flow agent\u2026 the anti-caking cookie\u2026 It was enough, more than enough.<\/p>\n

The Hippie, for his part, was quite familiar with the effect too. On this given Sunday though, he might\u2019ve complained that the effect was being a tad over<\/em>-familiar with him. It was prodding and groping him in the most sensitive of places, taking him to sequestered islands of paranoia and self-molesting fear. In a nutshell, he was fucked! It had been a long time since he\u2019d been this fucked. \u201cGood cookies!\u201d He\u2019d said it out loud. He was pretty sure. He didn\u2019t know why he\u2019d said it\u2014 not why he\u2019d said it out loud\u2014 but why he\u2019d say such an absurd thing at all when clearly he was fucked. Aloud or not, that wasn\u2019t the point. Rather it was the meaning;<\/em> that\u2019s what perplexed him so. And really, it was just the meaning of the first word. Obviously they had been \u201ccookies,\u201d but what in the world of paradigm-shattering pastries had indicated that they\u2014 that this\u2026 fuckedness<\/em>\u2014 was at all \u201cgood”?<\/p>\n

The Hippie stood in front of the mirror, in the bathroom, for what must have been like seven hours. To him it had seemed like about eight and a half. (Mild time distortion was not really an issue.) The way, however, that his body faded and blurred into the background mosaic of the framed mirror, and then reappeared in foreground heroics, only to fade quickly again like a chameleon who\u2019d swallowed a strobe light\u2014 on\u2026 off\u2026. here\u2026 not here\u2014 that was a bit disconcerting.<\/p>\n

Now, there\u2019s a word you could really hang something on\u2014 disconcerting. If reality was truly the performance of some divine symphony orchestra, then these hours spent in front of the bathroom mirror were like the first day of band before the kids have even learned how to tune their respective instruments. The Hippie was losing himself in dissonance. Another glorious word for those who don\u2019t believe in entropy! (The Hippie had been known to remark on more than one occasion that \u201cEntropy is for suckers!\u201d) Dissonance prevails when there\u2019s way too much resin in the resonance.<\/p>\n

\u201cWay too much resin!\u201d That might\u2019ve been out loud too, but he couldn\u2019t really be sure. Too much was in limbo now. Limbo was that netherland where reality appeared <\/em>to be about nine tenths of the way to crashing helplessly to the floor when, in fact, it was merely prudently ducking beneath the stick-wielding forces that tended to dominate universes and other such complexities. And seven hours spent in limbo\u2026 well, something\u2019s gonna cramp up.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoly crap! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!\u201d As far as mantras go it was nearly as good as any other, serving roughly the same purpose as its Sanskrit cousins\u2019. The Hippie couldn\u2019t move his shoulders. At least, that\u2019s what his eyes were telling him as he stared into the mirror. His kinesthetic sense\u2014 that internal body awareness\u2014 however, contradicted his sight. He felt clearly and distinctly the feeling awareness of his shoulders rolling endlessly forward like an ocean incessantly clamoring ashore. But the blinking chameleon that was his own reflection insisted that he was as immobile and helpless as a lighthouse with a blown fuse.<\/p>\n

Perhaps it was precisely those moments when the sensation of movement was nearly undeniable when his body shifted to its invisible state. And then when his disappearance became disconcerting enough to force him to stop all motion, he would sidle back into reality without fanfare or even so much as a \u201cHow do you do?\u201d Move a muscle; fade away. Stay stock still; the statue returns. It is a strange form of impotence to exist only roughly half the time\u2014 motionless, and only during the subsequent bouts of non-existence can you get anything accomplished. How do you document or measure that?<\/em><\/p>\n

Listen.<\/p>\n

Ference determined that the Hippie was in the bathroom. He could hear him chanting at his own reflection. Good. Ference too was beginning to trip hard.<\/p>\n

Not everything that can be done can be undone.<\/p>\n

Mice are at their best on the level ground. Creators were at their most ironic when they endowed mouse with astounding climbing abilities. Ference was high now\u2026 and getting much higher.<\/p>\n

Mice are not normally visionaries. Even when they take the high ground they\u2019re unlikely to even notice the view\u2026 at all. They\u2019re all about the details\u2026 big picture be damned! So the heroic vertical bit of the adventure that Ference had just completed was promptly forgotten when the tabletop presented many more mouse-acres of fine level ground. Ference was a Flat-Earther, and sometimes there was a very real danger of falling over the Edge. Even in his affected state, he was always wary of the Edge.<\/p>\n

On this given Sunday, the Edge presented an anomaly. Oh, the Edge, sure\u2026 it was fine\u2014 same as always: a straight line in space demarcating \u201cHere\u201d from\u2026 well\u2026 \u201cOver the Edge.\u201d \u201cThere\u201d was just too speculative for Ference\u2019s liking. \u201cOver the Edge\u201d was much more immediate and couldn\u2019t be bothered to even guess where<\/em> it might lead. \u201cThere\u201d was often a concept just beyond the thrust of a mouse\u2019s thoughts\u2026 and that\u2019s precisely why Ference had such a tough time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing.<\/p>\n

Out\u2026 beyond\u2026 over the edge<\/em>, there was\u2026 um, a hole. Out in the Nothingness\u2026 yes, in the Nothingness there was a hole\u2014 definitely a hole. And the hole in the Nothingness was good and solid, a strong hole, with sturdy sides\u2026 in the middle of nothing.<\/em> \u201cGah,\u201d said Ference. (That\u2019s sort of Mouse for \u201cHoly crap! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!\u201d However, in Ference\u2019s case the mantra would be uttered with glee and enthusiastic anticipation\u2026 Let\u2019s face it. Mice love holes.)<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t too far out. Maybe a little less than a body length? Perhaps? And down a little bit. Yeah, the hole in the Nothingness was definitely a wee bit in the direction of down. Down and out, over the edge\u2026 \u201cIt\u2019s a dawdle,\u201d Ference said mostly to himself\u2014 but definitely within earshot of the hole in the Nothingness, if indeed, such a hole could<\/em> have ears. Maybe it is<\/em> a big ear, thought Ference. \u201cCreepy,\u201d he muttered aloud. \u201cI\u2019m going in.\u201d<\/p>\n

If Ference had asked the Hippie what the hole in the Nothingness was, the Hippie might\u2019ve replied \u201cThe Tree of Life.\u201d (For indeed, that\u2019s what it was.) Tree of Life! Tree of Life? But why should there be a hole at the top of the Tree of Life… in a context of sheer Nothingness… possibly pretending to be a giant ear, hm? Ference might\u2019ve thought. (But then, this last bit of the narrative has all been a bit hypothetical anyway, so feel free to disregard it in its entirety.)<\/p>\n

The Hippie was still busy disregarding himself in the mirror when his<\/em> ears suddenly remembered their proper function. Listen. Yes! Listen! \u201cI can hear my breath!\u201d Was that out loud? He wasn\u2019t sure. Shh\u2026 just listen. Inhale\u2026 Exhale\u2026 Inhale\u2026 Exhale. The Hippie could hear his own breath. This<\/em> was a tremendous revelation! \u201cFuck man; I exist!\u201d That was out loud\u2014 definitely, out loud.<\/p>\n

The Hippie began to\u2026 move. I wanna say \u201cdance,\u201d but it seems a might generous under the circumstances. He moved like he was tearing through curtains of soggy paper, reams and reams encircling him on all sides but yielding easily to the Hippie\u2019s antics. There was something uniquely concentrated about the Hippie\u2019s efforts, deliberate\u2026 intentional.<\/em> On some level, perhaps, the Hippie\u00a0actually<\/em> knew what he was doing\u2014 because quite frankly\u2014 and despite his unabashed awkwardness\u2014 he was doing it superbly.<\/p>\n

Intending is powerful stuff. Intent makes real selected hypothetical reflections. So, the Hippie, as a wielder of intent, was suddenly at the mercy of his ability to choose\u2026 to decide\u2026 to select a kickass hypothetical reflection to make real.<\/p>\n

Funny that even when you\u2019re really really stoned you can always still feel that undeniable surge of power that comes so infrequently, assuring you that indeed, you are<\/em> invincible\u2026 that in this moment you may do whatever you wish, whatever you can imagine\u2026 and it will<\/em> come to pass. (What? You\u2019ve never felt that? Never? Really? Best go have some adventures! Quick!)<\/p>\n

Ference stepped over the edge\u2026<\/em> and ducked headfirst into the hole in the Nothingness (which was really the Tree of Life)\u2026 and promptly noticed\u2014 the smell. Oh, it was familiar, all too familiar. It was like\u2026 like the Hippie\u2026 times six (keeping in mind that six is a really big number to some mice)\u2026 the Hippie times six\u2026 and on fire\u2014 no, on six<\/em> fires! Like six hippies on six fires\u2014 well, it could just be one big fire\u2026 but like six times bigger than a one-hippie fire\u2026 (Ference hated math.) Yeah, six hippies on fire\u2026 and then\u2026 and then\u2026 someone puts out the fire by pooping on it. Perhaps a seventh hippie, hm? Yeah, one that\u2019s really full of shit! And that, my friends, it what it smelled like to Ference.<\/p>\n

It can now be pointed out that the Tree of Life is the name given to the Hippie\u2019s favorite bong.<\/p>\n

The stench, of course, was the bong water at its bottom. The Hippie, sadly, was not particularly conscientious at changing the bong water with any sort of frequency or regularity. In fact, it may have been the original<\/em> bong water. The Tree of Life, you see, was rather larger than most bongs for home or office, being quite definitely the industrial size. It held a great deal of water\u2014 or rather, something that long, long ago had been water and now was nothing less than a version of the tar sands captured in some gaudy aquarium with a very tall hat. There had been no need to ever change the water or clean out the resin when a cornerstone of the Hippie\u2019s philosophy was that \u201cYou can always suck harder, man.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ference was all out of choices. Usually,<\/em> cruising around in four-wheel-drive\u2014 as is what all non-amputee mice do\u2014 is enough to usually<\/em> preserve at least the choice to back up. But alas, Ference\u2019s back legs were already just beyond the lip of the hole in the Nothingness which apparently led to Stinksville. The glass walls were just slippery enough, despite the tar and resin stains, to make back-pedaling impossible. Ference was going to hell. Yup, sure enough, that\u2019s usually<\/em> what happens when you run out of choices; you go straight to hell.<\/p>\n

The Hippie\u2019s aspirations were decidedly in the other direction. He was striving upwards. Not heavenward\u2014 heavens no! Even hippies know that you can\u2019t crash heaven\u2019s party and not wind up in hell. So, just upwards\u2014 the sixth cardinal direction. The Hippie intended to fly out the top of his head. At least, that was the idea. But ideas, you see, have a distinct advantage in this regard. Ideas are able to fly in and out of heads seemingly at will. Really, when you look at it, that\u2019s all ideas do. They fly in and out of people\u2019s heads. The tricky bit, this given Sunday, was to get all the other myriad bits of mind stuff to follow this particular idea straight out the top of the Hippie\u2019s head.<\/p>\n

Still choiceless, Ference dove headfirst into the bong water at the bottom of the Tree of Life. The stench, I believe, has been adequately covered, so let\u2019s now consider the taste. Complex\u2026 and horrible. Smokey\u2026 and horrible. Multi-layered\u2026 and horrible. Decidedly harsh on the palate\u2026 and horrible. A biting finish of half-burnt shoe belonging to a gangrenous leper\u2026 that was, simply, horrible. And the feel of it! Outstanding filthiness\u2026 enveloping tar monkey embrace\u2026 pools of resin in the dissonance like chewing gum in fur coats. Ference gagged. And then, for the first time, he began to feel sorry for himself.<\/p>\n

Terence is it?
\nNo. Ference.
\nWhat? You mean like as in\u2026 ferret?
\nWell I am long in the body\u2026 For a mouse, I mean!
\nOh, thinks he\u2019s a ferret!
\nNo! No, there\u2019s just one r.
\nJust one r! Just one r! Eh? Now he thinks he can spell!<\/em><\/p>\n

It was true. Ference couldn\u2019t really spell. What mouse spells? Really. But he\u2019d had that very conversation several times. He<\/em> believed that he was long in the body\u2014 maybe not quite ferret-like\u2014 but definitely above average length for a full grown mouse. And as luck would have it, Ference was just tall enough to keep his nose above the surface of the bong water as he leaned on the side of the globe at the base of the Tree of Life. And as unluck will always have its way too, it was also quite apparent that even a true ferret would have had great difficulty escaping this<\/em> enchanting place. \u201cWhat\u2019s a mouse gotta do to find a choice around here?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Hippie made a choice. Visualization. He visualized himself flying out through the top of his head. And it worked\u2026 It fucking worked!<\/em><\/p>\n

Problem was… that visualizations performed in front of mirrors have a blatantly trustworthy tendency to go awry. It\u2019s all a trick of intent, really. The Hippie\u2019s original<\/em> intent was to simply fly out through the top of his own head. But check it\u2026 When the Hippie visualized himself flying out through the top of his own head, he was staring into the mirror. What he was actually<\/em> visualizing was himself flying out through the top of his reflection\u2019s<\/em> head. And that\u2019s exactly what happened.<\/p>\n

The Hippie was trapped in the mirror\u2014 right up near the top. He watched in full consciousness and exquisite awareness as his body promptly slumped to the floor. Disembodied\u2026 and trapped in a bathroom mirror\u2014 that doesn\u2019t usually happen on any given Sunday. Holy crap! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! The Hippie knew that that<\/em> wasn\u2019t out loud\u2026 there no longer was<\/em> an out loud. Holy crap! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!<\/p>\n

Ference waited\u2026 and reflected\u2026<\/p>\n

\u2026 and eventually there was a strange sort of interference\u2026<\/p>\n

InterFerence…<\/em>
\n_________________________________________________________<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

_________________________ Introduction This is where we begin exploring the Collaborative Mind. I’ll write the first chapter of this novel. Then, I’m throwing it open to every reader to contribute subsequent chapters. I’ll stay on as the editor for the duration (…)<\/p>\n

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