Monochordo

           He brushed back the flakes of a jelly donut from the sides of his mouth and spoke while licking his lips, “So tell me again what your trying to say or do with this poster? It is a poster right?” I sat up straight in my chair and replied, “Mr. Antonelli.” He immediately stopped me by waving his cup of coffee and said “Joe, please call me Joe.” “Ok, sure, well Joe I’m trying to entice you and of course you’re wonderful poster shop in possibly carrying my Pythagorean Monochord poster. “Yeah, I know your trying to get my interest in your product but words like Diapente Materialis and Diattessaron Formalis somewhat confuse me. And this funny looking instrument being turned by a hand coming out of a cloud, could anyone beside you know what this is all about?”

Utriusque Cosmi Historia 1619

            “Oh yes I’ve written a three page epistle explaining what all the terms mean, see it’s right here and each epistle is held neatly together by a little blue ribbon, and there’s no extra charge, none at all.” He sighed took a sip of coffee and said “Ok kid, tell me in one sentence what this is about.” I was ready for that and quickly replied,  “It’s about the mystical construction and manipulation of the universe based on Pythagorean principals.” “You know Neal I love the universe as much as any man can, but why would anyone choose to buy this over Farrah Fawcett in a nice tight bathing suit or Lynda Carter showing a lot of what men like to look at?”

            What Joe couldn’t see was how inspired I was when I first opened Fludd’s work “Utriusque Cosmi Historia” and made the connection between the ancient Pythagorean monochord and the mountain dulcimer. Shortly after this motivational moment I took a copy of Mr. Fludd’s illustration to a graphics house where I had the image expanded and then printed on 17 x 22 parchment paper. After I picked up my 500 posters I hired my friend Peter to airbrush 100 of them. We ran a clothes line on my deck in Felton and pinned them up and painted them all in an assembly line fashion. First doing all the yellow, then the blue and so on. As we watched them all come into fruition we were convinced that thousands of people would treasure this ancient image in their homes. We were certain that our creation was a large step forward from mood rings and pyramid hats, both of which seemed to be very popular in the late 70’s.

            Joe offered me a donut and said, “ So did you draw this? “Oh no this is the work of Robert Fludd” I replied as I reached out for a donut. “Fludd, Fludd was he some kind of beat poet here in the city back say some ten years ago?” My mouth was full of jelly and sugar but I had to immediately reply “No he was a renaissance man from the 17^th century,” I said all the while blowing little flakes sugar and pastry in front of my face. “Fludd was a really interesting guy he was a Christian, an alchemist, a Rosicrucian a Paracelsian and in 1598 he received an M.A. in medicine from St. John’s College, Oxford. Joe continued to nod his head and replied “I’m almost afraid to ask what a Paracelsian is, should I?” “Well Paracelsus was like Fludd, a philosopher of esoteric knowledge, he’s credited with the creation of laudanum and was an early practitioner in the use of chemicals and minerals in medicine. “Did he smoke the same stuff as his buddy Fludd?” I raised my hands to my chest and laughed with Joe and said, “Hey you never know what these free thinkers would do.”

            As Joe was poured himself another cup of coffee he looked at me and said, “So tell me Neal when you not running around San Francisco trying to sell posters about heavenly geometry what do you do?” “Well I write musical instructions books on the mountain dulcimer.” “What’s that?”  “Oh it looks a lot like the instrument that the hand of Apollo is touching except it has more strings.” Joe closed his eyes and replied, “Please don’t take offense at this Neal but why is it I’ve never heard of anything that you do?” That last statement from Joe gave me a great sense of gravity.

            The Pythagorean thing made sense to me. From his work on the seven string harp and his knowledge of mathematics, Pythagoras expounded the theory that the seven planets were in the same proportion to each other and to the seven notes of the then known musical scale. The planets, he said revolve in perfect circles upon invisible spheres. The harmony emitted by the interval and spacing of theses planets produces a concordant sound, known to the properly initiated as The Music of the Spheres, simple.
            The mountain dulcimer is played in modes and thus I found an even greater spiritual connection between all this ancient knowledge and my humble folk instrument of choice.

             It didn’t seem complicated at all, it made sense but as I sat opposite Mr. Antonelli I could feel that my career selling esoteric posters of the cosmos based on 16^th century knowledge was coming to an end.

            It all seemed so promising when I started out that morning. I rolled up the California coast armed with the knowledge of the ancients, 500 newly printed Pythagorean Posters and a heart full of inspiration. I sold two to a store on Geary and then after nine polite refusals in a row I decided to go to the mega poster store on Columbus Street where I was currently receiving the truth from above delivered by one Mr. Joseph Antonelli.

            “So listen Neal, are there places that people say like yourself go? You know maybe you should be selling these to folks who play that thing, what do you call it the doorchemer?” “Yes” I replied that’s a good idea but most dulcimer players don’t share my interest in this whole musical cosmos thing and then most people into cosmology don’t really play the dulcimer so I’m sort of stuck I guess.” “Hey kid let me unstuck you a bit. I sell posters of Einstein, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Brando, you know movie stars beautiful woman, handsome men. I have to level with you Neal in all my years here on Columbus Street no one has asked for this monochord Pythagoras thing you got here. I guess the closest thing would be the one with all the stars with the arrow pointing to the words “you are here”. I slowly nodded in agreement as I let go of my fantasy of becoming a New Age poster mogul. “So tell me Neal how many of these did you print up?” “Oh 500.” “And how many do you have left?” “Oh 498.” “Ah kid let me have three so now you just have 495 to go.” I insisted he take 6 for the price of three but he politely refused. He patted me on the shoulder as I was leaving and said “Hey kid, at least you gave it a shot, don’t ever give up and don’t worry you’ll figure it out.”

            It was a beautiful ride down the coast that evening. I stopped to look at the Seven Sisters and saw a shooting star. That night I dreamed a dream of all the muses— Calliope, Terpsichore, Urania,  Erato, Clio, Thalia and Polyhymnia singing to their respective planets. And there reaching out from the clouds tuning the string of the monochord to the heavenly choir was Mr. Antonelli and in his other hand was a chocolate cream donut glazed with stars.

Classified & Personal Ads from Newspapers Now Extinct

From — The Domrémy Times June 18, 1427:

Single, spirited and ever so slightly aggressive young French girl seeks a possible relationship with a supportive and progressive minded male. If your idea of fun and romance are flowers, poetry and quiet walks by The Muse River, you need not apply. However if the thought of besieging an impregnable English fortress with a broadsword in one hand and the will of God in one’s heart sound appealing to you, then read on.

Are you seeking a woman who has visions and hears voices (all of which are spiritually pure), if so, I just might be the right girl for you. I also enjoy, constructing crossbows, preparing French cuisine from the Lorraine region and placing crowns on young French monarchs. If a relationship with a young maid determined to liberate France and obey the will of God resonates with you please write to —Joan c/o Jacques and Isabelle d’Arc, PO Box 1412 Domrémy France.

Special Note —Burgundians, plague victims and non-believers need not apply.

From —The Paleolithic Post — April 10^th – 15,000 BCE

Lonely cave painter from Southern France seeks companionship. Do you love art? Do you enjoy exploring deep dark holes on the side of hills? My name is Unk and for the last ten years I have been creating provocative and intelligent images from the Dordogne to the Cele. I have a show opening soon in Lascaux and it will run for the next two moons. I’m far beyond the Bison and Horse thing; that is so Lower Paleolithic.

My latest work is a nude holding an animal horn. I have taken the time to incise the horn with lines. Are the lines a lunar calendar or a women’s menstrual cycle? Come meet me and find out. All genders welcomed, especially anyone that wants to get under a Bison hide with me every night and keep me warm. Fire making skills are most welcomed. Also as far as the “hunter-gather” thing goes, I’d much rather paint, so you have to be OK with that. Love me and I’ll immortalize your image forever.

Come to Lascaux on the next Vernal Equinox and keep shouting my name around the cave, I’m bound to hear you. If not I’ll be the one with a great deal of chest hair and a slight dent in my cranium due to someone’s poor scaffolding work down at Pech-Merle.

From— Laocoön Times – April ^1st, 1183BCE

For Sale—One large hand made Wooden Horse created by Greek craftsman on the banks of the Agean Sea. This fifty foot high work of art is a glorious treasure to behold just on it’s own merits, but wait there’s more. Inside this handsomely sculptured equine is room for over thirty men and women, a perfect vehicle for weddings, funerals or any ritual concerning the goddesses Athena. Did I say vehicle? Yes this work of art is also portable as it sits proudly on four large hardwood wheels that will never chip or crack.

There are a few gauges in the surface, but this “Wasi-sabi” only adds to the character of the work. The new moon is almost upon us and we will soon be navigating the wine dark sea back to Ithaca. Just take a right passed the large flaming structure, go about a half a league on Rosy Fingers of Dawn Street and you’ll see the horse. Act now, this Bronze Age beauty is a one of a kind and won’t last long. Makes a wonderful and thoughtful gift. Odysseus, 1855 Cassandra Lane, Troy

From— The Dailey Nazarene April 8, 15 AD/CE:

Single, Aramaic Jewish male seeking companionship with a compassionate, patient, and understanding female. Must enjoy walking to various parts of Judea with a dozen or so men, spiritual discussions in the countryside, and witnessing miracles. I seem to have a very busy schedule these days, healing the sick and raising the dead but in between my visions and my teaching I get lonely. It’s no easy task trying to redeem mankind, especially with all those Romans around. In my spare time I make cabinets, chairs and small religious items.

My family life is somewhat of a challenge to most of my friends. My mother is a Saint but my father situation is somewhat challenging. Actually I have two Dad’s one who lives with my mom, and one who is somewhat distant, but we’ve worked it out and we all get along. Do you like to dine on wine, bread and fishes? If the answer is yes you’ll have ample amounts of all three as well as an opportunity to witness a large spiritual awakening both here in Judea and in the rest of the western world.

Send all scrolls to: Yeshua Ben Yosef 7010 Lower Galilee Lane, Nazereth, Judea.

From— The Neverland Herald – Forever & Ever

Single animated fairy seeks a grown up. I have spent the last century of my life waiting for a guy in a green suit to show up, and I now realize he will never Pan out. Due to my diminutive size (I’m a minus 10 petite) I can only hold one emotion at a time and yes I have some anger issues but can be loving and supportive as well.

Are you Pixie Dust tolerant? If the answer is yes then come fly with me and enjoy the earth from 1000 feet up as we soar through the heavens.

I work long hours at my job in Southern California but I find that I never run out of energy especially for the right person, fairy, troll or gnome. My bell is ringing…can you hear it? So don’t be a Lost Boy, look me up!

Please write to — Tink, PO Box 8888, Anaheim California.

From—Eden Reader –July 19^th, 4004BCE

We are a young couple looking to relocate to the east side after being evicted over an über stringent no fruit policy. Currently looking for a shame free facility overlooking the Euphrates for two adults and a reptile. I am presently out of work but collect disability due to the loss of a right rib and I also do some pruning (fig trees, apple trees etc) and tilling of the Earth. If our clothing optional lifestyle and my wife’s sweet tooth are not a problem we would like to move as soon as possible.

Adam 3:23 Genesis Lane, Earth

From—Sumarian Times –August 16^th, 2250BCE

Hi I’m a high priestess of the moon god Nanna and have composed over 42 hymns about Akkadian temples. The problem is I have no one to critique my work as apparently I have created this art form that one day will be called poetry. I like writing about my personal relationship with the goddess Inanna. Do you like to write about your inner life or the gods? My dad, King Sargon the Great said it would be ok for us to meet at his temple, especially when he’s out pillaging and destroying other cultures.

Don’t be shy, come over this Tuesday and we can work on some new verses and hymns about Inanna or any goddess that resonates with you. Remember to bring your own tablets and chisels and really think about what you’d like to say before transferring to stone. I’ll provide the wine.

Enheduanna – 86 Akked Lane, Ur

From— The Daily Thebes – June 6^th, 1330BCE

While it’s true I’m worshipped as a God and as a venerated Pharaoh in reality I’m just a lonely teenager with no one to have fun with. Does floating down the Nile under a full moon with a cool beer in your hand sound like a good time to you? I also love dancing, chanting and singing praise songs to the goddess Amun.

Everyone here at the temple is all wrapped up tighter then a mummy. I’m young I want to have fun and please don’t let the fact that I’m married to my half sister stand in your way, it doesn’t stand in mine. I know all the hot spots on the south side of town, and all the blues bars in Memphis and I also have a little lover’s hideaway in Luxor.

PS —I’ve been feeling a little funny as of late, I might be coming down with something, so write soon ok?

Send your tablets to—Tut, 1350 Valley of the Kings Road, Thebes

How Anne Baxter Changed My Religion

I had my first spiritual crisis at the age of eight. It was Passover 1956, our yearly ritual that was always held at my Bubbie’s apartment on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. I was turning a page of the illustrated Haggadah, a kind of a child’s guide to the Passover, when I found myself gazing straight into the face of the Angel of Death. She had long, wild hair, and she was descending from a darkened heaven and wielding a very foreboding scythe with both hands. It was on the same page as the four questions, and that’s where I came into the ritual. As the youngest child I had to read the questions. However, I was so fixated on the dark angel I could barley speak.

I knew the story well—Moses warned Pharaoh nine times before the big blow. In ascending order they were water to blood, a rain of frogs, lice, wild beasts, blight on livestock, boils, hail, locusts, and then the death of all the Egyptian firstborn. Staring at the Haggadah, all I could think was, “What kind of an angel would do that? I thought angels were sweet.”

After the plagues had been run by and the prayers had fallen silent, I piped up. My question probably came from a confluence of Seder wine and fear. I asked, “Why couldn’t God spare the Egyptian children too?”

My Uncle Samuel shook his head. “It’s part of the story, it’s always been that way.”

“Don’t take it so literally,” said uncle Max, “it’s a metaphor.”

My Aunt Esther added, “Try to view the spiritual side.

Yahweh loved the Hebrews so much He’d do anything to set them free.

My father, Solomon, commented, “God warned the Pharaoh with the previous nine plagues. He had plenty of time to think it over.”

Bubbie then spoke up. “There’s still chicken. Nobody’s eating it. Is there something wrong with the chicken?”

It made no sense to me, but I, like Jacob, often wrestled with God. I wrestled with many things growing up on the Lower East Side. I was constantly worried about breaking any of my parents’ numerous socialist taboos, like watching Walt Disney, who was antiunion, or eating any product made by John Welch, who was the founder of the John Birch Society. Besides my parents, danger lurked outside the apartment in the form of young men from the Catholic school, who held me personally responsible killing their Savior.

We had our pleasures, too. Baseball, comics, street games, television, and of course the movies. In those days there was only one big screen and the movie houses looked like great palaces. When a new movie opened it would play in just one theater. It was a major deal to go uptown and see a first-run film.

In October of 1956 the epic Cecil B. DeMille film The Ten Commandments was released, all three hours and forty minutes of it. It opened at the RKO Palace, and my best friends and I were determined to go and see the movie on the very first weekend.

On a crisp autumn afternoon my friends Izzy, Tony, and I boarded the 7^th avenue IRT with over two dollars in our pockets and incredible excitement in our hearts.We were not the most well-behaved young people but had made a pact with ourselves that we would refrain from our customary movie conduct.

Our usual movie behavior consisted of obnoxious noises like the hand-in-armpit fart sound. Izzy had that one down. We would also refrain from kicking seats, throwing popcorn boxes at the screen, and roaring with the MGM lion. We all agreed that getting kicked out of this movie would be a very stupid thing to do.

We got to the theater just a few minutes before they opened the doors, and there was a long line. We then performed our old trick of waiting for the line to just start moving and then slide in front of some older people who we knew wouldn’t complain too much. Once we got through the doors we ran into the theater and picked out some choice seats in the middle section just ten or so rows back. We then pooled the rest of our change and sent Izzy to get candy and cokes; we were all set.

Before the movie a chubby little man emerged from a curtain and onto the stage. He claimed to be a Bible scholar and told us that all we would see and hear was straight from the good book and historically accurate. Then the lights went down, the lion roared, and The Ten Commandments with its big brassy theme began. The three of us gazed in awe into the great colloid void.

We quickly learned that evil Ramses II (played by a bald and buff Yul Brynner) wanted to eliminate all the Hebrew male children. Being ever so alert Moses’ mom placed her child in a basket and floated it down the river where it was discovered by none other than Pharaoh’s little daughter. She was so smitten with the little child she decided to adopt him as her own. The next thing you knew he was the Prince of Egypt, or at least Co-prince of Egypt because his evil half brother Ramses II wanted to be the next Pharaoh too.

“Yes,” I thought, “I remember a lot of this from Passover, from that illustrated Haggadah with the scary angel in it.” Then something altogether different happened—it was quite unexpected. A new character was introduced, one I had never read about. Leaning out over an archway in a tight blue dress, blinking eyelashes at least two inches long, was the enchanting Queen Nefertiri.

At that moment I felt a strange sensation in my eight-year-old frame. A little bolt of electricity ran from my head to my feet, my fingers tingled. I shrugged it off and threw down another handful of raisinettes followed by a gulp of Coke.

An hour into the movie and no big action scenes yet, we were all getting a little antsy. Thoughts of rude noises ran through our collective brains. Especially since they kept saying, “So let it be written, so let it be done,” over and over again. To make things even harder there was a semi-romantic scene between Queen Nefertiri and Moses. She told Moses in a sensuous voice that she wanted to be his queen. It was at parts like this that one or two or perhaps all three of us would make a journey to the concession counter. Tony and Izzy gave me the nod, meaning let’s get more candy. “That’s OK, I’ll stay here. Just get me another Coke.”

Tony went on a tirade that I had to give him money now because he didn’t have that much on him, and then someone in the row behind was yelling for us to shut the hell up and Tony flicked him off and said something about his mother and he flicked Tony off and so on.

I didn’t tell my friends why I stayed; I stayed because that buzz was back. This time the tingle went from the bottom of my neck down through the front of my body. It wasn’t Charlton Heston as Moses that was causing this new emotional response. It was Queen Nefertiri. That tight dress, the cool stuff on her head, her sultry voice as she said “Mo.....ses......Mo...ses.”

At this point in my life I had not the faintest idea what sex, lust, or passion was. I had no idea where babies came from and what’s more I didn’t want to know. I had a feeling that the explanation was very disturbing. Every so often I’d hear grownups talk about people sleeping together. What did that mean? I reached the conclusion that sleeping together meant that you stayed up late with someone you liked and had milk and cookies and watched TV.

It was now the second scene between Moses and Queen Nefertiri. Moses had decided to get back to his roots and was currently working in the mud pits with his tribe. Nefertiri showed up with her entourage, pointed to Moses and said, “Take this man to my royal barge.” My heart was beating faster again, little electric rockets were launching all over my body. Funny, I didn’t remember this part from the Passover meal. I started to wonder if the little guy at the beginning of the film really knew what he was talking about, but I didn’t care.

So there they were floating down the Nile, he was all muddy and she had on an ultra-tight blue dress. I was licking my lips as I realized now (although I couldn’t label it then) that I was experiencing my first titillation. I wanted to be in my pajamas and sit up and have milk and cookies with Queen Nefertiri, except I didn’t want her to wear pajamas, I wanted her to be in that dress. Tony and Izzy were looking at me funny.

“You like this part?” Tony said, gazing at me like I was the creature from another planet.

“No man, no, this part’s boring,” I quickly lied.

“Yeah, right,” Tony replied. (Tony was a little further along about sex then I was. He was Catholic and came from a family of eight kids so I guess he had it figured out.) “Oh, I know,” Tony said, “you got the hots for her. She’s not bad but I’m waiting for the action parts, when’s the part with the Red Sea going to happen?”

I then looked at Tony de Marco. I liked Tony, he was a cool guy, but I didn’t feel the same when I looked at Tony as when I looked at Queen Nefertiri. The same was true for Izzy.

It was this second encounter between the Queen and Moses that sent me over the top. She had first met Moses as a prince and now he was a slave. But she still loved him, she offered him a deal, she would soften the Pharaoh’s heart to let the Hebrew children go if he agreed to do the milk and cookies thing with her. It was then she said my favorite line of the movie: “Mo...ses....Mo...ses, worship whatever gods you please so long as I can worship you.”

She then told him that if he became Prince of Egypt again, he would be in a position to free the Hebrew people; it was as simple as that. “Oh, this is great,” I thought. “Now the little Egyptian children don’t have to be smitten by an angry God. This is a win-win situation.” I was cheering Moses on. “No,” says Moses, “I must serve my God. I saw the burning bush. I must take the Hebrew children to the Promised Land.”

What! I nearly choked on my malt ball. What was Moses thinking? How did he know this wasn’t Yahweh’s Plan B? The plan where nobody gets hurt. OK, so he married that little goat herder girl in the land of Median. What’s wrong with fooling around a little bit for the greater good? He wasn’t even really Jewish yet and already he had guilt?

Perhaps if the Almighty could have gazed at Anne Baxter in that blue dress he might have understood. To bad all of this didn’t happen in Greece. Last year Izzy and I saw a movie about this Greek guy named Ulysses trying to find his way home. There was a different God for every situation in that movie. I’m sure at least one of them could have inspired Moses to consider Queen Nefertiri’s proposition. That’s a problem with one God, not a lot of wiggle room.

So Moses turned down the queen’s offer and the plagues were on. The Angel of Death showed up, the Egyptian children died. Finally Pharaoh let the Hebrew people go. Then Pharaoh did an about-face. I guess losing his firstborn pissed him off, and we were off to the big Red Sea part. Tony and Izzy were poking me in the ribs again, “Hey, man, this is the really good part.” They were jumping up and down in their seats. It was all lost on me; I was still reveling in my first infatuation.

So the Hebrew children crossed over, but their troubles didn’t stop there. And after a golden bull and a big party, it was a forty-year trek through the wilderness before they reached Canaan.

That’s where Moses really got the worst part of the deal. He didn’t even get to cross the Jordan. He spent the rest of his days up on Mount Nebo probably thinking about that woman he left behind in Goshen. Izzy, Tony, and I discussed our favorite parts on the subway going downtown. We all agreed that Yul Brynner looked a lot tougher than Moses, and had it come down to it he would have kicked Moses’ ass. Oh yes, the Red Sea and the pillar of flame and the golden bull were spectacular. However, my mind was fixed on Moses’ refusal of Ann Baxter’s proposition with the added bonus of letting all the children live. Such a shame I thought.

Had they been able to work it out, the Egyptian children would have been spared and Moses and Queen Nefertiti could have munched on milk and cookies as they floated down the Nile and into the sunset on her royal barge.