Marc fucked me.
He arrived for his vacation a week BEFORE what he had given me. The Sacred Space of the Four Noble Truths still unfinished and horribly unkempt. I was Ashamed. I had such GLOWING Plans.
He came, like the Magi he is, bearing Gifts >> a Cornucopia of Pharmaceuticals << I stared at his Bag Apothecary --- I stared as if Stupid. There was something... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ... something.
We sat. Marc spoke of Things, Energy and Being ---ever the Talker--- . As usual half of what he spoke was confounding-ly incomprehensible. Most often it takes me MONTHS to assimilate his words, weeks longer to arrive at Meaning.
Marc "ain't from around Here". Inter-Dimension Travel has skewed his ability to speak the English. I mean that in this way >> he speaks using English Words, but he piggy-backs English with Ancient Sword and Sorcery Aggravation that implies Quantum Mechanical Origin. At BEST, `it's` Frustrating. At Worst it's Spiritually Sonorous but not in Sonorous's GOOD Way. It's more like an inexorable drone of estoericisms much of which only Marc can claim as "Reality".
I try to Listen. I `end up` slapping his Offerings as if they were so many mosquitoes. He continues nonplussed. He Believes. As my attention lags I begin to hear him as Vonnegut's "The Hound of Space" barking, barking barking.
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