and for what, I ask, shaking my hand next to my eye, wuht?

the periscope is lenses AND mirrors, the self and the stranger,

marco

polo

we are counting all the time, one, two, three, away it goes, counted and accounted – counting all the time up until it’s gone.

I have a collection of uncounted time that I keep in old cardboard jewelry boxes in my closet.  I haven’t watched the television entertainment news, not a speck, since 9 11.  I decided that day not to see it and I haven’t.

that’s where the uncounted time comes from.  from tuning out of the TV stream because it is a signed, sealed, bought and sold control mechanism in the ghastly ways of The Economy, which is the Televisionese word for the worldwide EverQuest. It wants me to be scared, and do everything it says, and trade my life for insurance against it, and remedies for the woes of worrying about it.

seven or eight little foil boxes, some with the cotton batting and some vacant.  a few of them also have perfectly flat, never cinched organza drawstring bags, indicating that more uncounted time is coming.