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A fictional character of mine who has yet to see the light of day hangs out here at the Cafe much of the time immersed in Joseph Campbell, Krishnamurti, Oswald Spengler… and countless other spiritual giants. He converses on the very highest of levels, if you can actually call it that, so much so that very, very few people fully grasp the stupendous profundities he utters in his simple plainspoken manner.

But he is no retiring monk like figure, and genuinely revels in moving amongst his fellow men and women. The funny thing is, because the profound Truths he speaks of are not couched in high fallutin lingo, not hemmed in by any of the Grand Traditions, no one has the foggiest clue what he’s trying to convey.

Most of the time he remains buoyant and optimistic in the face of people’s willful obtuseness, but on occasion the friction of moving amongst others wears him down.

Then it is, for the sheer joy of obstinate effrontery, he dons a tattered old camel haired robe, fake wig and beard and takes to the streets to rain a sort of pseudo-Biblical invective upon unsuspecting crowds of middle class workaday folk.

A few hours of playing a latter day Biblical prophet goes a long way towards rebalancing his hypos, as I belief Herman Melville called it. The frictional charge is dissipated and his brow resembles the glistening morning sky after a short but violent storm.