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Contemplations in Reading

24 January 2021 by Rey Armenteros

First of all, I don’t ever want to write a book with that many pages. Those times I am reading a book that reaches the 666th page, I pause and wonder if that page is in fact the one that owns that ordinal distinction. The pagination might not have started on the first page of the story. Depending on when they started the count, six pages may have been lost to title, blank page, then title again, along with indicia and some quotations, and my place in the actual text might be on its 660th page, and this disturbing sequence of repeated numbers has actually not yet arrived. I have six more actual pages to read to get past it. It’s like the 13th chapter and the 13th floor, but worse, because not as many books have that three-digit piece of amalgamated spookery. If I read through such chapters and pages like I once avoided cracks on the sidewalk, I look at that page as something to quickly pass and move far enough beyond it to make sure I had also passed the 666th page of the actual text. No point in getting the bookmark out and prolonging this bad luck for the next several hours or till tomorrow.

When greeted by the 669th, you are reminded there are other possibilities. One of the digits is upside-down. I have to go beyond this one and the textual version of it too. But then, what about the 699th and the 696th?

The book I was reading today did not quite reach the 960s, but I thought about what a drag it would be if it did. I read about the symbolism in numerology so many years ago, I hardly remember the ramifications of these numbers. But to this day, I still have personal favorites, like nine, three, and two, and of course, one.

The way to add things up in numerology is a simple system. If you have a number with more than one digit, you add each digit with the others to get a new number. If that new number is not a single digit number, you do it again, and you continue until you have one of the first nine numbers. For example, in 12, you add the one with the two, and you get three. With 2485, you add the numbers together and get 19. Then, add the one and the nine to get ten, and then add one with zero to get one.

666 gives 18, which reduces to nine. I like that last number but not the first. When you add 3 to that unholy number and get 669, it changes the results to 3, because 6+6+9=21, and 2+1=3. It is interesting because if you added 666 with 9, it retains the conclusion of 9. I just remember that all numbers divisible by 9 end up with 9 in this system. I believe it is the only number that does that.

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The Roaming Twenties

06 January 2021 by Rey Armenteros

Was it 2020 or 2021? I don’t know anymore. Maybe because of my propensity for correcting people, I would have said 2021. The crowd hailed the coming of 2020 as the beginning of the new decade. Mathematically, that would be wrong. That was why 2001, and not 2000, was the start of the new millennium.

But that is an analytical conclusion, and I don’t support analysis like I used to. I think gut feeling is a greater mode of observation, and if the turning of 2019 into 2020 sounds more like a big change, it doesn’t need to appeal to the loftier considerations of elementary mathematics — and that is enough for me.

However, just this once, it might be better to go with math and say that 2021 is in fact the start of the third decade of the new millennium, because when you look back on it, who the hell wants to start our present decade with 2020?

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The Poets

18 October 2020 by Rey Armenteros

The lives of today’s poets will be forgotten. I can’t think of a handful of names that have made it through the 20th century, people whose lives will be known by a small throng of others who bask in the light of rarified thoughts, eagerly seeking transient miscellanea of the most esoteric and mind-flowering sort — that of a poet, clearly.

I wish it were not so, but if I ever not make it in all the other creative career paths that have haunted me, I will then become a lyric poet who is only concerned with the day-to-day, and I will live my life for myself and my thoughts, and when I die, I will leave behind a sordid life that the world shaped for me, through my own physical (ergo, economic) limitations.

It will be humorous to plumb the trite passerby day-to-day of my life — what I disliked and what I was unreasonable about. How fascinating — how my life lit up the moment I had found my arch nemesis over a fender-bender the guy was willing to go to court for, and how I plotted to kill him, to perform that fictional inanity, the perfect crime. How my life shot through circumstance upon circumstance beyond my will not like voluntary breathing but like the unstoppable beating of my heart, and how it was released into a chamber that held only my volition.

How I was given no choice, how the world was not made for such thought, and how it still makes room for it somehow.

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The Unlikely Chance

02 February 2020 by Rey Armenteros

The image in the middle came about when I was making the image on the left. The one on the left is the backside of the plexiglass; it’s what shows through after applying frontside brushstrokes. In ways I only now understand, the middle one is more interesting. But that version is now gone. The way I work, it was never intended to be seen. It was always intended to be sandwiched between the backside of the plexiglass and the original paint skin that I will adhere to the frontside (which is the one on the right). It was nothing but something that appeared in the middle process of creating a double-sided painting.

When I finish and you are holding the painting in your hand, you will see the right-side version on the surface, and when you turn it around, you’ll see the left-side coming through the transparent plexiglass. But the center version you will only ever see in this photo, and it makes me want to go and make a dozen of them on frontside-intended paint skins so that I can also have it. Why a dozen, one might ask. A dozen is the minimum! I would need to make a dozen because I would need to recreate it under the auspices of spontaneity; this type of painting only works if it were tossed off, and a dozen attempts might give me the desired look one of those times. And it might not. Because spontaneity is more like throwing dice than deliberately moving pieces.

Another way to look at this is that the one-of-a-kind look has already happened, and it is now buried under another image, with no hope of ever coming back — but I’m going to try it anyway. Because that is what I do, follow the path of most resistance.

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My Courtroom Drama

24 November 2019 by Rey Armenteros

You ask me don’t I have this kind of book in me or that one, and I wonder myself. For example, one of you brought up the fact that I have several loose thoughts on the ludicrousness of present-day law, wouldn’t I just love to pen a poetic work on such a theme, to have such a book in my career?

And I first have to say that I truly appreciate your outlook on my body of work. Yes, it is deficient of a courtroom drama to properly expose the shortcomings of the court (all courts), but I can confidently say that I don’t need one. Everything I have to say about such a thing already resides in another book, a book titled The Trial by Franz Kafka. And he happened to say it exactly how I would have wanted to say it, so I find no need to pursue such a thing. On the contrary, whenever I want to recall exactly what I feel about such things, I merely have to read The Trial, and it all comes back.

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