Plotinus Plinlimmon

Sunday, March 27, 2005

I, Plotinus of Plinlimmon, to You

From scraps recovered, a cento wove.

Sad day of rebirth. Listened to Patti Smith. "I have not sold myself to god." But: "In the midst of life we are in debt etcetera."

Some fellow visionaries sent me their communiques by pneumatic tube and courier pigeon. We are strategizing future utopias on the rusted bones of America.

Will the Amish really be around in a thousand years? Perhaps. I trust the hardihood of radical Protestants more than anything else I see around here.

I remember well the night my father told me "Islam was going to win". We don't live in the world we think we live in. A diet of lies our whole lives has an effect on our brains roughly equivalent to the longterm consequences of two packs a day.

What, after all, do we have to learn from the Moravians and Labadists? A lot, apparently. David Zeisberger and Jasper Danckaerts.

I learn after writing the above about smoking that the Labadist colony of Bohemia Manor supported itself by growing tobacco. Hmm. Is this part of a usable history?

Tobacco is not the blessing and travel boon it was a thousand years ago. How can we begin to rethink what history means on this continent; i.e. that it is not only the adventures and bloodbaths of europeans and their descendants?

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