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Oh Captain
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2002-03-02 07:42:44 (UTC)

Chapter 5

"Wisdom calls aloud in the streets, she raises her
voice in the public squares;"
-Proverbs 1:20
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NOK-NOK

And it could have resonated throughout the
atmosphere. This house was, I mean had to have
been built door first. I know it. They put this ancient
doorframe here and then the bitch-ass raggedy door
betwixt the ol’ wood. That might explain it. The
acoustics were charming, just charming.

The sound was actually fitting for the almighty character
that would enter in next, or exit next. (It’s all really
individualistic perspective, necessary crap.)

The priest most Holy of all things, I knew what Dean
was going to do. We had talked about it and read the
same books. What a rare situation to be in I thought. A
priest visiting is like chance visiting. Dean was secretly
a “beatnik”*. It’s corny actually, that Dean the Hero
would “copy” a scene from anywhere. I guess it was
ok** though. His obscure reference was almost
undetectable. While at the same time being fantastic
and perfect.

I’ll get to what happened thereafter but I absolutely
must tell you or present something to you. The world
I’m writing this in is different from the world you’re
reading this in by a solitary factor, time. Hearken back, if
you will, to a word I used, “fantastic”, when in the course
of using words as a communicational medium it
becomes absolutely necessary, in my opinion, to define
one such word in this world that I’m writing in. Which as
I explained is forever changing. Call it, Shakespeare’s
only mistake. Fantastic in this environment is an
adjective that may be defined as the following
adjectives, synthesized: serene, comfortable, and full of
potential excitement.

Alas, Dean asks this man of God, “So what’s holy?”

“Everything is Holy,” the monk coolly answered like he
knew what Dean was to ask. As if Reverend
Oh-something-or-other had been asked this exact
question 5 fucking times today. Now the pastor didn’t
say this with an air of bitterness but more like the
question of Dean’s were to test his patience more than
to get an answer.

“I whole-heartedly agree!” Dean said almost
ecstatically.

I didn’t understand entirely but what happened then
was what pleasantly surprised me. I had, I guess,
prematurely estimated that Dean was of course going
to talk about Nietzsche or politics or try and pickle the
preacher. Dean asked how the rabbi liked his coffee.


*See “Pull My Daisy” w/text by Jack Kerouac.

**Ok; ok as in “alright”


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