You never know for sure, and that's key, that's the small art, the banal skill, that you never know. There's parallels, threads of identical aspect and manner and codes of dress and vibe, but you never know for sure.
The guy that wrote this was healthy looking, stocky, white, mid-30's maybe, a little too muscled for his purported station, though no station was purported, until you read the thing he left.
Where this is is a library at a major university, open to the public, but on a semi-remote campus, I have a library card here of which I very proudly am in possession of which also I got by plunking down 50$ when I had 73$ to my name and no particular prospect of any further$$.
Which gives my presence here among these young bright minds a quasi-legitimacy that's paper thin and no less dubious than anything but I have it and I'm proud of it and of getting it etc.
So the pigs.
They're not smart, but have resources that create a kind of organizational intelligence and of course have force, power of weaponry and statute, and a proven record of severity and ignorance that makes them dangerous and threatening, and especially for me, way out here on the loopy scary margins of moral integrity and performance.
So I'm reading Moses Maimoniodes up on the fourth floor or the third floor, I can't remember today, it was over two weeks ago, and dude comes in huffing and puffing sits down and starts doing that "Got to win got to win got to win" smashfinger keyboard attack and twice I glanced at his back while he made particular loudness and he turned enough around to catch me looking at the corner of his peripheral and then after a while of smashfinger exercize he splits. Leaving his writing in a word document displayed on the screen. Didn't copy it to other media as far as i know tho maybe he did I just didn't see it, and didn't erase it on completion.
I went and did other stuff but curiosity drove me to check it, I resisted as long as I could so then I read it.
I have psychic armor that's very thick, old, rusted in spots, dented, cratered, spiky in places, things don't get through right away, I read it, then copied onto an SD card and back to the woods I.
Then read it again next time in.
Pigs/not pigs, who knows.
Anyone with literary skill will see the threat in it, the fakeness of "Sequoia" is glaring to me but...you never know, and that's the art, small and uninterestingly banal as it is. Interesting to me because it's one of a novella's worth of similar incidents and similar individuals and similar vague unpinnable threatening moves, some which were obviously swine-origin, some, like this one, you never know for sure.
A Travel & Observation report by Tharon Chandler
04/09/2009
The town of Santa Cruz is in some ways a poorly kept secret. The weather is not the best all the time yet perhaps the People are. The territory is kind to a traveling bum, as the creek swells and flows to the sea. A man can swim in the Ocean, though the air temp nor the water is warm, and then clean off even more in fresh-water of the creek, which is a little warmer and very clear.
Nice ducks land in the creek waters and one female cares for a bubbling brood, even while she still must flee from the aggressive males. The males have a ring-neck and a vivid green head while the female looks are more plain. She seems to be running or flying for her life when three or more males pursue, yet one of the males helps protect the brood of half a dozen chicks, with her. The little chicks must strive against the current of the creek and the parents will not help too closely, this helps the babies to get stronger by the hour.
In the town the bus service is good without being too expensive and attractive people ride the bus; some go to the University. UC Santa Cruz is set in a forest of massive evergreens; probably some kind Sequoia and lush like a rain forest. The forest is mature in that the upper canopy makes for a soft but clear lower level, on the ground. People had lived comfortably in the woods here, as there still are ancient kilns with a view of the sea. The woods have no venomous snakes; not that I have seen, and there are some snails that look like a Mexican Pepper. There are many shelled snails and likely this served as a food source for some people.
The people here are as cordial and beautiful and sophisticated and friendly as anywhere on Earth. Likely a pretty tough security force lurks just behind the scenes. I’d be on their side, against any people who’d do harm, and even to protect the pristine place from unfortunate bums; even as I’m starting to look rather haggard, myself.
Mr William “Tharon” Chandler
