In the Event

    No, I never happened. Clouds of other happenings, could, from just the right angle, be seen as being me, me as a being, and were. But I wasn't.
    If I had happened, if I had been, I might have been very much as I described him, or as I described him and her together, as if someone who really was paying attention were at the same time playing between the lines.

    My apologies, nevertheless. Evanescence is poor excuse for evasiveness. The person I sometimes affected in person could seem solid as a golem, easily converted back to even more stolid clay by a tiny erasure of the mark of culture from my head. Such a thing, stomping about, causing havoc intentioned and unintentional simultaneously, full of bluster and opinion, full of self, deserves to be kicked in refutation, just to be reminded that it's not fair to pretend to any right to be a certain way, to be not all there and not at all there, all at once. Lumps of mud can be hollow, but can't claim to be the hollow, now can they? Seems like one more poor excuse for the sins of the flesh. It wasn't me. I wasn't there.
      Allow a little saintliness for the dirty flesh, for the lump alone, unspun. Let the idol be the god. Let the god be free. Let the free not be, taking the only unpardonable sins with them, out of the holy urges of the wordless world that somehow gave birth to every last word, every last wicked word. Anyway, in the event, the words weren't there. I didn't do them. Not me.