As I thought this morning of the universe, churning and thrashing and kicking some (or all) of us in the head as it seems to be doing of late, the visual that appeared was of George Clooney from the Coens' Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou? His Ulysses, startled, mystified and unprepared for the events which overtake him, expresses those emotions as they rampage through me.
My state-of-mind veers from peaceful and reasonably content to confused and distraught, without apparent cause and definitely without warning. "Boys, we're in a tight spot," Ulysses says on more than one harrowing occasion. It is just that I'm not sure what the tight spot is.
Mixing protagonists, I would say it seems the game is afoot, but again, what game? Going where and for what reason? Is it just me, a wonky chemistry, a wobbly constitution, or are these unsteady times, uncertain in a way that eludes capture? Things feel jittery around the edges, a bit carsick at the core. Then it subsides. If I am in this alone, I've made a low-grade spectacle of myself here. There are times when a modest readership is a good thing.
Ulysses, as he and his fellow chain-gang escapees wrangle with each other over who will lead their trio, says his vision is for someone with, "...the capacity for abstract thought." May be there is such a thing as too abstract.