While waiting for my nephew to arrive, I walk through a parallel universe whose air is the color of money, whose enlightenment is entertainment, whose victims straddle the gaudy machines of Lady Chance Casino.

I can see why Seami in his book on the art of Noh performance, The Transmission of the Flower, speaks of this accomplishment as 'surprise.' For the person doing it this is the 'surprise' of discovering oneself without a self...moving in effortless emptiness and grace, Elvis lives here, with his greasy hairdo, face bloated in a twisted grin, eyes dead as silver dollars, exhausted voice cracking, hips locked in the vice of rigor mortis.


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