Imagine music and the history of our existence are inseparable.

Have you ever seen a “Sky Saw” click ? My guess is that is lightning…

Sometimes a walk along the beach

gives you comfort

Take care… and care for others…

The Shack

Living in the shack wasn’t as bad as all that. We had indoor plumbing. And the hole went down to infinity as far as I know. We were illuminated by a microwave oven hooked up to solar panels. We cooked using sun ovens (when they worked) and we had a million pounds of canned goods courtesy of the good ole USA government right here in the desert.

People get sick and die all the time, but it’s easy to bury them in the sand. Ummm… yah… ahhh… wind direction is important. There is an art to it. I mean so they don’t float. Some of them just blow away into the horizon.

Of course when the canned goods (I like the Chili) and water (We aren’t sure) run out we will take the pills. It was a solar flare that knocked the world on it’s pretty ass. How’s that for irony. The Sun Giveth and the Sun Taketh Away.

Note: Links to more stories below…

2 ~ Bee and Jo

3 ~ The Jackhammer

4 ~ The Gambling Den

5 ~ Beautiful Monday

Prelude: Poetry and Lyrics

Memory, Reflection, Imagination, Biographs, and other Expressions…

Lyrics and Poetry: Lost Companions ~ Prelude

Where do lyrics and poetry meet?

They are the same in the medium of message. Poets and musicians suggest language can change themselves and can change history. They are correct. Language is the spirit of our imaginative mind. This space is sacred. It’s also possible that poets and musicians, perhaps not the Greeks, went ‘south’ in the sense that they, more or less, lost their connection to the world as we know it and made an exit into oblivion. I will not name them nor judge them.

All is beautiful when language is pure and simple like the haiku or the rhymes in nurseries. Yet there is a spectrum that changes over decades and centuries in all communication all across the world.

Every country and language arguably forges a symmetry and direction through their culture as it occurs at irregular intervals: their “ups and downs”. Some are less developed than others, but given a thousand years, the tides may turn and these tides make sense to all people around the world.

Some are monotheistic, some are non-theistic, some are polytheistic, and some are animistic, then there are rare few that may be mystic. Given Hope and Fear… Love appears to be the central theme. Music is the destination.

Just Check these people out: Brian Eno, Talking Heads, Radio Head, John Lennon, Patti Smith, Tina Turner, Aretha Franklin, Frank Zappa, The Pretenders, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Barry White, Frank Sinatra, B.B. King, Tony Bennet, Nat ‘King’ Cole….

It’s possible to say, these extremely creative and wonderful people were more interested in our minds. They had the depth perception to help us relate positively to ourselves, our societies, and our cultures. Let us appreciate the people who gave us beautiful songs and movies.

Finally, love, patience, generosity, discipline, energy, good thoughts, compassion, and overall well being wherever you exist should always be given their proper and permanent place in our lives.

Perhaps poetry belongs to meditation and mind

a beautiful mind usually looks to the sky

RANDOM ESSAY ~ JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT

Sisyphus and Tantalus

Tantalus was made to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches, with the fruit ever eluding his grasp, and the water always receding before he could take a drink. Hades punished Sisyphus for cheating death twice by forcing him to roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll back down every time it neared the top, repeating this action for eternity. 

To say these punishments are fair causes injustice in our minds. But what REALLY are these myths about?

Complicated… Nothing is simple.

It appears that Tantalus is a metaphor or better, an analogy of human greed… the desire for more and much more… I want this and that…

Sisyphus was simpler to comprehend. He committed an act against the authority, ultimate authority, and was punished according to the ultimate law… This practice is now defunct… It no longer exists… Let us say

The laws that made Sisyphus guilty of a crime no longer exist. Peace be with you and peace be with me. These are tales of morality and perhaps NOT wisdom. I would suggest they belong in the category of biblical tales.

Poetry and Lyrics: A Universe of Endless Imagination

Where do lyrics and poetry meet?

If you happen upon the most fantastic Dictionary in the Universe, there will be a countless number of emerging, progressing, recessing, and dying languages, and we could easily regard this communication cycle as endless in computation and infinite in quantity. In other words, language belongs to evolution. Or more likely, language emerged parallel with evolution. All poetry, song, and lyric belong to the cosmos including all communication on this planet for better or worse. Consider the works of the great poet Jorge Luis Borges and the Labyrinths he described.

It would be possible to bring this conversation into the world of math, but I will not. Math is a form of language, but biology brought forth its blueprint. It has resonance with music but seems a distant cousin. They don’t often meet. Math can explain many wonderful phenomena, but it appears as a skeleton… There must be other approaches to song and lyric and poetry.

Out of the blue, the Big Bang appears in retrospect. Life is timeless, infinite, and cyclical. Language is embedded in the cycles of the Universe and will go on forever. Go forward and you end up with imagination. Go in reverse and you are on the roller coaster of memory. Stay still for a few moments and you are in the profound space of now. Don Quixote in his prison dreamed of other places. But his vision was elsewhere. Only the author knows such dreams.

First, obviously, shed light on the original culture of Australia. The native people there (some 250 tribes) named places but had no definitive name for a territorial land. This indicates a point of view not familiar with historical thought. Heinrich Meyer, an ethnographer travelling the Outback in the 1850’s (Public Library of South Australia) documented this song poetry from the native people’s oral tradition:

“The moon (reflecting from the sun) is also a woman and not particularly chaste. She stays a long time with men and from the effects of her intercourse with them she becomes very thin and wastes away to a mere skeleton. When in this state Nurrunderi (a creator being, perhaps the sun) orders her to be driven away. She flies and is hidden for some time but is employed constantly in seeking roots. The medicine is so nourishing that in a short time she appears, fills out her body, and becomes herself again (slightly paraphrased).”

Remember, this is in the form of song and has/had been passed down from time immemorial. It’s difficult to imagine any present day lyric or written poetry reaching the depths of imagination conveyed by this ancient song. Perhaps this ritual song, and its rhythmic and tonal qualities, perhaps lost, provide a benchmark for what came later, what we perceive historically as lyric, what we call poetry in our world today.

This aboriginal song may well be an allegory of the lunar cycle. In fact, it may seem obvious even to the casual observer. Most of human history has been a curious and humble relationship with nature. Curiosity created the stories and myths reflected from the wonders of Nature that have always existed. But where did “song” originate? And why was song poetry (lyric) the preference among the ancients?

Considering the origin of song, and potentially lyric, there are a few considerations just from an enquiring point of view. One, birds and animals predate conscious communicating humans by millions of years. In fact, it is my opinion that Earth is flora and fauna’s domain and we are just visiting. In fact, we appear to be belligerent guests at best.

Henry Ford and the like may disagree, but in the court of the Universe, there is an obvious indictment and conviction. We are guilty of atrocity. And it seems we have little capacity for apology nor constraint. Best case scenarios are diminishing… Unfortunately, it looks like the powers that be are in control of our destiny.

Setting that upbeat news aside, we can examine the communication of animals and birds as related to the origin of human speech, communication, lyrics and poetry, and consequently the development of language. Not a Sunday drive, but an exploration worthwhile. Yet, there is a human element to the creation of rhythm and sound. Consider this poem:

Communication

I watched a stream

and became aware

of how music began

water flows across stones

beyond streams

waves meet sand

rain sounds on every object

rain meets our bodies

passes through our minds

and makes a home in our hearts

beating and pulse

the rhythm of life

birds and other animals

making orchestral sounds

across the expanse of planet

creating melodies

calling to each other

for one reason or another

preserving their space

In their competitive place

beasts across forests

jungle and plain

signaled intention

from pleasure and pain

sounds that remain

in our history

no mystery

the musical tones of life

human community

watching carefully

spirited language

borrowing thoughtlessly

In clumsy gestures and expressions

from those animals

both friend and foe

countless ages

of development

evolved our tongues and ears

for speech

when we were finally able

to take care of each other

and accomplish

the miracle of

Communication

John Wayne’s Horses

Waynes horses ran

away and returned

to the place from whence

they were captured

There were cultures

living on the lands

you call the arid zone of sand long before

the movies

believe it or not

animals know

where their homes are

and return to their

native lands… and people…

they also try to return

Here is something to chew on:

Some of the tribes of the Southwest:

Ak-Chin, Tohono O’odham, Pinal

Akimel O’odham, Hia C-eḍ Oʼodham

Maricopa, Cocopah, Yuma, Somerton

Colorado River, La Paz, Chemehuevi

Mohave, Hopi, Navajo, Apache

Gila, Yavapai, Maricopa

Havasupai, Coconino, Havasupai

Hopi-Tewa

Ky kots movi (?), Hualapai, Yavapai

Hualapai, Kaibab, Coconino

Southern Paiute

Pascua Yaqui, Pima, Pascua Yaqui            

Languages

The indigenous peoples of Arizona speak a variety of languages from several different language families. Speakers of Yuman–Cochimí languages include the Havasupai, Hualapai, Yavapai, Mohave, Halchidhoma, Quechan, Maricopa (Piipaash), and Cocopah.

The Navajo and Apache are Southern Athabaskan-speaking people who migrated into the American Southwest from the north, possibly around 1300 AD

Point being: The Native population of of the continent were (and are)

very intelligent and in harmony with Nature. But can we catch up…

“Ameria” (How embarrassing)… Here you can find “facts” on google:

“Did Christopher Columbus or Amerigo Vespucci discover America?”

“Columbus found the new world, but Vespucci was the man who recognized that it was a new world.”

This is ridiculous…

How can people think in absurd ways over generations? Analogy:

“I found a penny on the sidewalk, but my sister recognized it was a coin, so I gave it to her.” But, in fact, it belonged to someone else!

Absurdity in Reverse: Native people go to Europe in the Dark Ages. They conquer the sick and rotten communities and take over the land. In that case, would we say the Mayans discovered Europe?

Furthermore, it would have been in Europe’s interest at that time, since half the population was carted away into mass graves. In contrast, the cultures decimated by the Europeans seem to have been thriving at the time.

To be fair, First Nation people were certainly no more ethical than any other tribal nation. Name one territory that has held peace with a close neighbor over generations (OK, except Canada and the US). On the other hand, Native American weapons remained simple over generations. There seems to be no escalation of violence in warfare.

On another note, most likely First Nation people were more intelligent in relation to the natural environment than we in the indutrial age.

What is called the “industrial revolution” lead to people tossing personal sewage onto the streets in piss pots and shit buckets in Paris, London, and other Metropoli. Child labor, poverty, imprisonment, and other social atrocities were common.

Meanwhile, the First Nation people went their “own way” with Nature. It appears their greatest defect was territorial warfare.

Finally. We must admit, at least, the invasion of the Europeans into what is now known as “the Americas” was a monumental genocide.

 It was a decimation of many beautiful cultures.

Now we think Europe is such a cultural haven, but at the time, they became barbarians… dragged out from the sewers of the renaissance in a frenzy to find gold. Put on ships to conquer new worlds. “Make your country rich!” “Mow down the enemy… Be a Hero!”

And history repeats itself time and time again…

Here gold, there oil… What’s next?

The bar remains so low due to this cowardly “conquest”

And the minds of the “conquistadores” remain

In their elaboration of dress and exploitation

And the gold remains in Spain. Have you ever Thought to give it back? Such is “humanity”…

Pigeons

Pigeons are doves when they are pure white. See the magician pulling the bird out of a beaver-skin hat… and a dove flies effortlessly into the unknown. The bird is amazing in its resilience.

Mesopotamian cuneiform tablets mention the domestication of pigeons more than 5,000 years ago, as do Egyptian hieroglyphics. Research suggests that the domestication of pigeons occurred as long past as 10,000 years ago.

But I want to talk about the fear of pigeons. Have you seen people becoming anxious around these all pervasive but obviously wonderful birds? See the iridescent rainbow-like sheen on their necks, in some cases, or the variety of coloration. Perhaps we disregard them simply because of their numbers. Then how does our perception of them reflect upon us? Something to ponder.

Is it Alfred Hitchcock we have to blame?

Back to pigeons, their uncanny ability to disregard belligerent humans, I mean they have no more care for a human than a human has a care for them. I suppose humans regard themselves as the most intelligent being on the planet. Perhaps pigeons are of the same mind. In fact, they can fly and mate for life… Who is to say they are not more suitable to this world, earth, planet…

But the homing pigeon is as loyal as tea is to the Queen… My mistake… the king.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pigeon_post

And fools often find their way into high places. Let me jest for just a moment…

Although as far as mating goes, the seemingly dim-witted feathered creatures possess a far greater intelligence than we may want to admit. Theirs is a dance of politeness and grace. This experience, a voyeur’s experience of the mating of pigeons, is no small matter. The male chases and dances intermittently, while the female keeps him just out of reach. Finally, she yields in a false sense of misdirection and the excited and flustered male does the act… with precision and excellence. Were it so for the human species, we would not need the collaborations and elaborations in the all too many documented cases.

Waynes horses ran

away and returned

to the place from whence

they were captured

There were cultures

living on the lands

you call ari zona long before

the movies

believe it or not

animals know

where their homes are

and return to their

native lands… and people…

they also try to return

Here is something to chew on:

Some of the tribes of the Southwest:

Ak-Chin, Tohono O’odham, Pinal

Akimel O’odham, Hia C-eḍ Oʼodham

Maricopa, Cocopah, Yuma, Somerton

Colorado River, La Paz, Chemehuevi

Mohave, Hopi, Navajo, Apache

Gila, Yavapai, Maricopa

Havasupai, Coconino, Havasupai

Hopi-Tewa

Ky kots movi (?), Hualapai, Yavapai

Hualapai, Kaibab, Coconino

Southern Paiute

Pascua Yaqui, Pima, Pascua Yaqui            

Languages

The indigenous peoples of Arizona speak a variety of languages from several different language families. Speakers of Yuman–Cochimí languages include the Havasupai, Hualapai, Yavapai, Mohave, Halchidhoma, Quechan, Maricopa (Piipaash), and Cocopah.

The Navajo and Apache are Southern Athabaskan-speaking people who migrated into the American Southwest from the north, possibly around 1300 AD

Point being: The Native population of of the continent were (and are)

very intelligent and in harmony with Nature. But can we catch up…

“Ameria” (How embarrassing)… Here you can find “facts” on google:

“Did Christopher Columbus or Amerigo Vespucci discover America?”

“Columbus found the new world, but Vespucci was the man who recognized that it was a new world.”

This is ridiculous…

How can people think in absurd ways over generations? Analogy:

“I found a penny on the sidewalk, but my sister recognized it was a coin, so I gave it to her.” But, in fact, it belonged to someone else!

Absurdity in Reverse: Native people go to Europe in the Dark Ages. They conquer the sick and rotten communities and take over the land. In that case, would we say the Mayans discovered Europe?

Furthermore, it would have been in Europe’s interest at that time, since half the population was carted away into mass graves. In contrast, the cultures decimated by the Europeans seem to have been thriving at the time.

To be fair, First Nation people were certainly no more ethical than any other tribal nation. Name one territory that has held peace with a close neighbor over generations (OK, except Canada and the US). On the other hand, Native American weapons remained simple over generations. There seems to be no escalation of violence in warfare.

On another note, most likely First Nation people were more intelligent in relation to the natural environment than we in the indutrial age.

What is called the “industrial revolution” lead to people tossing personal sewage onto the streets in piss pots and shit buckets in Paris, London, and other Metropoli. Child labor, poverty, imprisonment, and other social atrocities were common.

Meanwhile, the First Nation people went their “own way” with Nature. It appears their greatest defect was territorial warfare.

Finally. We must admit, at least, the invasion of the Europeans into what is now known as “the Americas” was a monumental genocide.

 It was a decimation of many beautiful cultures.

Now we think Europe is such a cultural haven, but at the time, they became barbarians… dragged out from the sewers of the renaissance in a frenzy to find gold. Put on ships to conquer new worlds. “Make your country rich!” “Mow down the enemy… Be a Hero!”

And history repeats itself time and time again…

Here gold, there oil… What’s next?

The bar remains so low due to this cowardly “conquest”

And the minds of the “conquistadores” remain

In their elaboration of dress and exploitation

And the gold remains in Spain. Have you ever Thought to give it back? Such is “humanity”…

• The Tribes in the Americas before the Conquest
• 1) Winnebago
• 2) Navajo
• 3) Sauk
• 4) 1000 more

Music below

This genre may be considered a short-short story or if you prefer, a “vignette” in the elegant, distant, surreal French tradition. Here, It’s a fictional post (versus an essay, poem, partial novel, or diatribe). It’s meant to be enjoyed, like a quick afternoon martini. Add to, comment on, dismiss, or praise as you like.

Bee and Jo

Bee was a recycler from Busan, South Korea. In the West, he would be equivalent to the scavenger of aluminum cans and the like, but here in the wild, wild East, in the sing song post-war prairies of Dong-nae City, practically everything short of edible food was carried off to recycling centers, centers that sunk into the urban landscape like bad poetry.

Splintered metallic objects, their parts wrangled and unidentifiable, were stacked up in absurd but slightly elegant piles. Artwork by accident at best. They awaited grumbling trucks with gigantic holds. The stationary loader had mantis-like hydraulic grips. It ripped into the sky to feed refrigerators and car parts to the trucks’ empty holds poised like the mouths of monolithic hungry dinosaurs. It dropped the resistant metals into the beds of these hermetically sealed shaking vehicles. Such crashing, resounding elegance. Such delicate catastrophe.

Jo befriended Bee because Bee allowed it and it benefited his empty heart. Members of the community would have to measure the plusses and minuses of a relationship between them. Truth be told, Bee was South Korean but had no cares regarding his community. In this way, he was independent. But Jo, she was North Korean and she was sensitive and wounded. Perhaps her pains were greater than his and this made him empathetic. She had survived the war and somehow made it south…maybe she was a miracle.

“Bee… Can I make lunch now?”

“Why do you ask me? You are not my servant.  I’m Bee… Just a normal man Ha!”

“No… You’re Bee… Expert in Junk. What’s that name mean anyway?”

“Bees make honey Ha! No thanks!”

“Ah… What?”

“It means “No thanks!”

“Why are you called “Jo”?

“Ji eye Jo gave me the name.”

“Who the hell?”

“Yah, who the hell…”

“Who the hell gives us theeese cans of meat and… phoey.”

“I’m tired of this canned food… Jo… Let’s make a garden!”

“I know how to do that!” Jo raised her smiling face.

“Don’t ignore me Jo. I want you to be my partner.”

“Yes Bee. We will be partners and make a large garden”.

“Demmit! We will make a wonderful life.”

Jo appeared exhausted but happy. She was unbathed but beautiful.

“So let’s have lunch…” They looked deeply into one another.

Then they had lunch.

The Jackhammer

The jackhammer began its insane choppy drone at eight am on Sunday morning. What a relief. On Saturday, it was seven am. Now coffee. Now tolerance. And this is the ‘Land of the Morning Calm’. I beg to differ. This is the “Land of the Painful Hangover”.

But this distinction does not belong to Korea alone. All across the world people drink in social places or alone or on cruise ships, and even in prisons. Well, as nature demands, we wake up with nausea and odd forms of headache and anxiety. Pardon the cliche: “Pay the fiddler.”

But the jackhammers (so much concrete to crush) and the barkers selling goods on bongo pick-up trucks, well, they get up quite early in the morning, and they multiply the deleterious effects exponentially. Thus jackhammers and bongos are to be avoided by most drinking folk.

Then came Monday. Along came the jackhammers at 6:43 am. At 6:44, I heard a muffled cry. I looked at my bed table clock and it was 6:45. No jackhammer. I fell on the floor and spilled an open bottle of water. Picked myself up and looked out the window. I saw a flash. Black like silk in rain. I Shook my head and went back to bed. Waiting for the cacophony. Nothing. And in seconds there was the humming of cicadas in the early summer morning. Bewildered, I got up and made coffee. Often looking out my window.

The next day, Tuesday, nothing woke me up. In fact, I was late for work. And I was happy. Since that day, at least in my neighborhood, this has been a “Land of Morning Calm”. No jackhammers, no barkers, only the sweet sounds of bird songs, light traffic, and cicadas. But I’m sure the jackhammers and morning barkers in bongo trucks will return. I only hope the mysterious figure will return as well. Until then, all is like a ship on calm water in an uncharted sea. What winds will come to soothe or ruin our wonderful mornings. No one knows.

The Gambling Den

My apartment was on the seventh floor with a veranda overlooking shoulder to shoulder small buildings. There were many one or two-story homes and businesses. The view was a 280-degree radial circumference perched on a diamond-like platform in a neighborhood that was noisy, busy, and near a high school. “From the apartment, It’s like looking down on a crowd of concrete chess pieces on a crazy confused chess board with ant-like people running around and all through it.” My friend Aims was known to say. Then I died.

But I’ll get back to that. By the way, Jean-Eugène Buland painted this wonderful image. His work is unsurpassed and beautiful. See the faces, all looking up in bewilderment. They look away as soon as they meet your eyes. How curious that seems until you realize that when people see you, in fact they see themselves. Healthy people look, smile, and go their way. There is nothing they need to see.

If you walked out the door, went down the elevator and connected with reality, you would be in the world of sound and fury as one writer put it. “Life is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing.” Macbeth. But did the bard really mean it like that. Faulkner. I don’t know. I guess they call that irony. Pages upon pages of a challenged individual. Not so much an idiot… Anyway my point is that it can be “harmony and passion” and let the fury burn out. Or use sound and fury when you need it. Emphasis: Choose to use it.

The proprietor of the bar was a skinny narrow-eyed pesky fellow with an absence of any social capacity at all. He’d drag down one cigarette after another and fill a beer glass like a laboratory tech. His clientele… almost all, no, correct me. They were all gamblers of the losing kind. End of their rope so to speak. All in debt to bad sources and unable to quit.

As in all card games, there is an origin derived from divination…. It isn’t remarkable that the modern Western deck of gaming cards had arisen from Tarot. And Tarot is as ancient as card structures come. I was in the neighborhood, literally. I was a writer researching this gambling den. I was announced as a gambler. I was looking for a story. I was sweating and felt agitated. The atmosphere was akin to the latrine in a submarine. I sat down to the table. I reached in for my wallet.  Guess what card came up.

Measuring Souls

“Clear skies and copious flasks of ambrosia strapped to our shoulders we ride and we travel like giant birds with strange wings across a very long stretch of land eventually reaching our next birth or our ultimate death…

Like the Egyptian gods with scales testing all souls’ departure. They are no less alive in the ether…

placing the invisible heart on a scale against a featherwhich will take the weight north or south…

yes, this determines the path of the departed whether toward heaven or toward earth again as there is no hell…

Hell has been established beyond a million times on Earth…

As the illusion has always been a ruse for power and injustice.”

Thus the experience millenia past rings true to this day. Therefore we begin the story of the modern-day Khufu (around 122 generations later) and I (no one in particular) from the brothels of Cairo (longer delay than planned) into the desert (by jeep taxi) then into the Great Pyramid (simple bribery).

And who am I but a guide and a friend. To bring Khufu back to his roots. His motherland. Umm… OK…

When we arrived at the entrance we were fantastically entranced. It was beyond our expectations in size and architecture. I was stunned but compelled to enter.

My apartment was on the seventh floor with a veranda overlooking shoulder to shoulder small buildings. There were many one or two-story homes and businesses. The view was a 280-degree radial circumference perched on a diamond-like platform in a neighborhood that was noisy, busy, and near a high school. “From the apartment, It’s like looking down on a crowd of concrete chess pieces on a crazy confused chess board with ant-like people running around and all through it.” My friend Aims was known to say. Then I died.

Pascal’s wager: “If you believe, you are not punished if you are wrong.”

But I’ll get back to that. By the way, Jean-Eugène Buland painted this wonderful image. His work is unsurpassed and beautiful. See the faces, all looking up in bewilderment. They look away as soon as they meet your eyes. How curious that seems until you realize that when people see you, in fact they see themselves. Healthy people look, smile, and go their way. There is nothing they need to see.

If you walked out the door, went down the elevator and connected with reality, you would be in the world of sound and fury as one writer put it. “Life is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing.” Macbeth. But did the bard really mean it like that. Faulkner. I don’t know. I guess they call that irony. Pages upon pages of a challenged individual. Not so much an idiot… Anyway my point is that it can be “harmony and passion” and let the fury burn out. Or use sound and fury when you need it. Emphasis: Choose to use it.

The proprietor of the bar was a skinny narrow-eyed pesky fellow with an absence of any social capacity at all. He’d drag down one cigarette after another and fill a beer glass like a laboratory tech. His clientele… almost all, no, correct me. They were all gamblers of the losing kind. End of their rope so to speak. All in debt to bad sources and unable to quit.

As in all card games, there is an origin derived from divination…. It isn’t remarkable that the modern Western deck of gaming cards had arisen from Tarot. And Tarot is as ancient as card structures come. I was in the neighborhood, literally. I was a writer researching this gambling den. I was announced as a gambler. I was looking for a story. I was sweating and felt agitated. The atmosphere was akin to the latrine in a submarine. I sat down to the table. I reached in for my wallet.  Guess what card came up.