Isolated Unity

We don’t ask how because some questions have too many answers which will render them meaningless, but we know that our friend Habakkuk went to a certain Latin American country, we don’t mention the name of the country because we must be faithful to Habakkuk’s philosophy that there are no countries just continents populated by the world’s people who have fenced themselves into a conjunctive of paragraphs, molested enough to arm themselves against their fellows. He neither acknowledges the separation of mankind nor does he believe the success of the fence builders inevitable. Habakkuk was sure that the transgressions that brought humanity apart were not sufficient gravitational evidence to prove individuality nor patriotism; rather everywhere he went everything seemed perfectly replicated; thus only proving beyond doubt the isolated unity of humanity.

Why in his conversations with Lauren he would say, “the people all look the same, same beggars, same yuppies, same students, same birthday cakes, same anxieties, same streaks of jealousy and desire, the newspapers all look the same, they all mostly eat beef, rice and potatoes, even when they sauce, garnish and make pretty, it is still beef, rice and potatoes.”

“Lauren, Latin America is not a bunch of countries, it is a bunch of people that seem to think very much the same, nothing about productivity everything about the emotive moment with a little bit of a humanizing crisis, everything becomes either a pending tragedy or a tragedy, there is never a lull for the emotions, sons and daughters have to get killed or have horrible spouses, mothers exist as supplicant tears, husbands as lonely bulls on the quest of the forgivable; the government must not exist and doesn’t exist, a bunch of crooked never-ending-reform-minded set of dictators or populists that on occasion grab hold of the national purse; the populace as a whole doesn’t know that they are a part of GDP, they visit with witches instead, fix their illnesses with herbs and medicine men, and believe that there is going to be a harmonious jolly good afterlife, hence the reason why they can ignore this life and its set of social rules. They tend to have lots of babies; and they birth them when they are young because they are gregarious and fun, and music driven and more because by having babies they propound a psychological war against the fears of the civilized nations; they trounce on them by having babies not based on economics, logic or covenants with world population control authorities, or the educational quota of well healed schools. The civilized world is psycho afraid of all those third world babies, void of knowledge, poverty ridden and crude hoards, third world weapons of fear against any civilized abortion practicing person.”

Habakkuk was in Latin America, don’t ask me how he had money to travel, Habakkuk always had money to live some place, to eat something, he still hadn’t a job or a burrito hut. He got on a bus, the bus was almost empty, the seats were mostly broken or barely holding on to their positions, under some you could see the road just like on those glass bottom boats where you can see the fishes; Habakkuk gets in and speaks in fluent Spanish, “Me puedes ayudar, necesito llegar a la loma, mas allá de la iglesia del Carmen.” The bus driver, dressed entirely in dirty whites, a genetic suntan, knew instantly two things, Habakkuk was saying he didn’t have the money to pay, and that he wasn’t going to get off the bus. So he nodded, “esta bien, cabron.” Cabron didn’t sit down because he didn’t see the difference from sitting in chairs that he would need to manually stabilize; the bus driver might not have charged for the ride but he was certainly making Habakkuk and two other passengers feel it, “el siempre toma la ruta mas difícil.” Laughs one, “la que tiene mas huecos.” Smiling yellow teeth and thin, the other.

Habakkuk bangs his head against the bus, he doesn’t react, it would have been out of place, even as he doesn’t feel it anyway, he is instead thinking of where he is going, the houses pass by so near the bus that he could touch them if he stuck his head out, it is cold, the bus windows are closed but all glass broken, Habakkuk is thinking of Antoinette and Lauren, for some odd reason they are always in his mind, they are always with him, they are the souls that he most connects to in this life, and this is very understood in the happenstance emotion that is Antoinette; but Lauren, a cop so ordained, how could that explain Habakkuk’s affections towards her? He explained it to himself as, “I am not adverse to liking her.”

“Hombre, vas para donde no debes.” Yelling at the bus driver one of the men, the bus driver doesn’t acknowledge him, this is common around these parts, not because the person is being ignored, but rather because real life doesn’t register here as quickly as in the first world, nothing reacts in real time, hence why everything is always out of step, moments later, after the question is repeated the bus driver responds, “el quiere ir a la loma, vamos para la loma, huevon, despues te llevo a tu puta amante.” The huevon, having just been told that his lover is a whore, lifts his hands up in the air swaying arms up in the air, “yo quiero flotar, yo quiero flotar.” The white bus continued in it’s wrong route. Habakkuk ever silent.

The bus finally stopped where the houses ended, there you could see mountain tops swell over the horizon, Habakkuk recognized the place, he moved to the rear of the bus, “Gracias senor.” His voice barely audible across the bus tumbling with idling engine noises barely adulterated by an indifferent muffler. As he got off the bus Habakkuk felt as if he had gotten off a Volvo, a car that is always willing to sacrifice comfort for safety, strange verisimilitude where only skeletons can feel comfortable, or so our Habakkuk thought it an ultimatum, “we don’t care that you are human we are going to keep you alive.”

There was a steep climb up the remainder of the street, it dead ended the concrete and the grass grew dirty with horse manure, cow dung, dog and chicken shit, and the stench of fresh human urine was all pervasive, the rubbish had its own olfactory performance; Habakkuk taking notice remembered parts of Turkey, India and France, the darling smellers of the universe, along with China. And just when you thought you had reached the crossroads of every country Habakkuk came up upon a dark vivid green door, wooden and aged beyond repair and safety; he knocked; knocking, another thing that was done by humans all over the world.

A set of magnificent large eyes with potentially cavernous secrets, dressed entirely in black Muslim garb, only opened the door. Habakkuk comprehensibly limited himself, speaking in Korean, “May I speak to divine spirit, Wohyo.” The woman, noting that perhaps she didn’t have the power to grant anything, “you may come into the sun chamber.” With this she led the visitor through a gorgeous Spanish style house, though certainly not maintained, Habakkuk still had somewhat his western curiousness, and was trying to imagine what the woman underneath the black sheet of privacy disguised, he could certainly feel her, but he wanted to reveal her essence. They arrived at the sun chamber, “I can not go beyond here, you must follow yourself.”

Habakkuk, (irritatingly to me,) always failed to be amazed, amused, or surprised, simply nodded and entered into a hallway long and deep, sloping 35 degrees, he walked, the walls were gold, the carpets were Persian, there were mirrors everywhere, you could not see where the light was emanating from but the place was amply lit, after walking down this hallway, maybe all of ten minutes, he finally found an entrance to his right, the hallway ended, he entered while being admonished by a voice, “Habakkuk man of many ages, you don’t come see the old man till now, this century has been a bore without you, remember her highness, was it 637? Korea was something else back then, such a pleasure chamber now it is humdrum.”

He could not have risen beyond 5 feet, he was healthy, you could tell he was old but not because of wrinkles for there were none, his head was bald, his eyes were incandescent brown, he looked deeply at his guest, “bus rides are never much fun, oh I miss Korea, do you think I will ever enjoy another time as much?” Habakkuk, not responding to all the recognition and excitement. “I believe you are witnessing another Habakkuk more like Seoul Korea today than the pleasure chamber of old with the Emerald Princess; (his soul drooping,) I have been to New York, I have drunk Coke.” “Oh you have drunken the sweetened water.” Wohyo let his hands release his ponderous friend, “yes, yes its happened more than not, look at Korea, now two Koreas, the division of soul and body has made a left and right, rational and irrational, good and evil, it all has dislocated the unified pleasures of being human, it has allowed our scientists to sow the eyelids of cats shut and to deprive monkeys of their mothers.”

Wohyo walked a little further away from Habakkuk, “I am in a prison Habakkuk, sun chamber is a prison.” “Yes but only here Wohyo, only here, and only in this century, there will be other centuries, as there have already been so many and too many; for people like you and me it is only a matter of time, and with any luck we too will lose our ability to recollect the eons of memories.” “Yes, it is the haunting memories, the pleasant extremes of the days when divine glories could still quench our hungers, now it is not so, but even with sweetened water you seem wiser, while I am still missing the Emerald Princess.” “Oh hush, I haven’t a sun chamber to retreat to, I live out there.” “Good, I notice that, your aura is silent and your time here short, what must have brought you here?”

“Wohyo, random happenings always imply change, I need to know if there is going to be an upheaval, and if so where and when?” “Habakkuk you surprise me, you’re not speaking for yourself, you’re doing this for others whose affection has struck you, please inform me of them.” “That would be long in telling, I am tired, the world has dampened my spirits, I am going to open a burrito hut, I need stability.” “I see what you mean, fine then I wont persist with interrogations that will only yield evasiveness, Mexican food, masa, beans, a whole earth growing race, the Aztecs, (he started to mimic an unfolding drama.) “I am here my friend let me eat your heart,”(irking his fingers in the air.) “Please eat my heart, please dig that obtuse object so as to pry open the vessel of my experience.” He resumed his known posture, “yes I like the idea Habakkuk, a burrito hut so far from your religious glories,” “Wohyo I must be going.” “alright, alright, I don’t get many visitors you know, its been a lovely but boring century, yes, alone here, without the emerald princess; the relation of history to the future is fractious, something is about to be born from the current perfections, the chasm is largely an ordeal for civilization, the unworthy world will not be much touched, as it never has, but the worthy world will collapse from too much perfection.” “and how soon is this Wohyo, how soon is this?” “You insist in dates and times but the universe doesn’t give us dates and times, the cosmic time period is infinite.” He pauses long, Habakkuk nears the exit of the chamber, Wohyo holds him as one who has been lonely since the year 686 in Korea, “ah you respect nothing Habakkuk, nothing, alright I will tell you, a decade seems long, a decade seems long, that which has risen fastest has the least foundation, a decade seems long, frailties will be witnessed in the humans which most express social sentiment. And you might not want to blink or you will miss technology’s life span.” Wohyo then put his hands together, “you’re a prophet Habakkuk, you don’t have to come to me for these questions.” Responding, “Sometimes even prophets feel fragile.”

Habakkuk ascended the hallway, the cold from the patio quickly reached his nostrils, the woman led him to the exit door, “Sir, may your travels keep you well.” Habakkuk joined his hands and bowing his head in grace, “your mercy is renowned.” He walked outside, thinking of the major and the archbishop; and pleasantly noticed the white bus with its driver waiting for him; “yo no se huevon, pero mejor yo te saco de este lugar antes de que te saquen la vida.” Habakkuk smiled and hopped on the bus for another free ride.