Igor

He kept waiting, but what am I waiting for , he asked himself, after a long time.
He had no timepiece, so he could not tell how long he was hanging there, if someone like the Master would have barged in, he would merely say that he was hanging in.

The master seemed to wander all over the place, and his comings and goings were recognized by the sound of the flapping wings he knew so well.
The Master needed to know, that Igor should not be left hanging like this, but after all, he reminded himself of his nihilistic tendencies for no unnecessary movement away from the usual catatonic stance he called just another Buddhic trance.
He faced this state, as did those whose desire is a perfect simulation of Siddharta.

What is the sound of one whip snapping?
Igor awakened.
Wide eyed like a dandelion his brain exploded and the master blinked for he saw a flash of pure silver, a star of significance.

Igor now stood up and took the rod from the corner and struck his back with it thrice,
each time he yelped:

For I Is It!

and the master proceeded to the corner diagonally opposed and grabbed the rod standing there, and began to beat up his other students. They scurried out of the room. They did not see.
The master ran after them like two tigers and the door slammed shut

Igor was now alone with his mastered soul.

Igor Igor Igor Igor Igor the little sister yawned. How boring you are. How booooooor- haha do you hear that, boor! - ing you are, ugghhh. And she felled asleep or pretended so.
And Igor sat wackily at the sacks and bickered, with his owne selfe, to the point of dread and incongruent heresy for the apples in the garden up yonder. Oh Igor. You scoundrel.

Months later, Igor is in the potatoe-sack with a fine plum of a gal and she pin-point his sore-edge. How! Now, you are a sore-edged sir, sir. She is caught mumbling as he gestures savagely in the air. She draws her fan and waves herself some coldness while she eyes for his dagger. Oooh, Igor caught yourself on onna-dumm situations again?

Yeah but Igor is a situationalist. So thats how the shit go.

Igor now stashed the packages of contraband inside of a hidden compartment in the hull and he locked it and sealed it. He looked around, it was dark but, modernity, so all kinds of equipments would negotiate the ombric circumstance and turn him into an elephant in a circus ring, for a manner of speaking. So he just, stopped looking around and expected the best. He was Igor after all. He loosened the knots and threw them off and pushed the boat away from the little run down dock which was creaking with some spookiness as he did so. He grabbed the oars and rowed about a few hundred yards, and then raised the sail. The wind was slight and inland and he had to do a whole bunch of zigzagging if he wanted to keep the motor silent, which he did. Not for the noise, but for the scarcity in diesel and, frankly, the smell of the diesel. It reminded him too much of his ex wife. He didn’t mind being reminded of her but so intensely as the scent of burnt diesel reminded him no thank you very much lads. Preferably, if possible, use the wind. Oh noble wind, mused Igor. Send me into terrains of blind fortune and splendid wealth, send me into a place where I may unload, nay unleash my contraband. And the heavens shuddered.

The tide went sour and the waters became grey, Aphrodites gleam was gone into the algaes dreams, and Igor sat alone with his sail fluttering in the wind because he had forgotten, or perhaps had not yet decided where he was headed. Poseidon wasn’t really in the mood. I guess Poseidon, he is always in so many moods and far away, in grottos underneath the deep waters, counting his sea-shells (ahem ahem) and he now just lets Igor drift apart on him, Igor, all his pride in his contraband. What you gonna do, ee-gorr? Igor hated the name. He used it on himself when he hated himself, like some misunderstood destiny, truthfully embarking on the rugged noble path with a tennis racket and a peanut-butter-banana sandwich - and now he used it, useless in a boat in the sea, without a giant fish and without a man. Igor felt less than a man now, that the wind had gone down and his ideas were like pollen in a sticky summer, sufficient to make a king sneeze, but not to overturn a flower or a mere blade of grass, nor a building or an empire, one should think - though Igor managed to cling on to a centidute of encouragement through the sheer engravings on his ship, which pointed the way into a deeper dimension than mere space, or time - the carvings would provide and did, because for sure forlorn no more, Igor sailed upon the winds now swiftly, and hath regained his pride and drove a Mercedes to the safe house in his mind as he now and his intentions encroached on he shores of the forbidden isle

Igor rose and fell, rose and fell, he was the wav and he slept on the hay wagon as it ploughed through the day, donkeys sweating in their pouches, trails knackering the ingrings, the heathwuckles and sabernacs. Suddenly Igor awakened to find a purple Sun had radiated on him like a well bred dog pisses on a dry bone. Igor found it hard to be insulted.

Now he slept again and dreamed of awakeness. He was a frog in a cave of cascading water.

“Oh, how I do so love this newly-found form of mine” thought Igor. "I think that I shall keep it for a little while. But why am I slipping around so much? Ah, the good life - to be hanging on this nice cool rock all stretched out and it is such a nice kind of green. Never ever have I seen such a luminous green.

This is MY rock.

Oh, but how do I keep from awakening!

Igor leaped into his soul and went to the supermarket where he got the ingredients. A whole cart full of good stuff, the best! Igor was practically salivating over his purchases after he had paid for them and was stacking them all into his van. He drove off with a big grin. “Im ready now!” he sneered to the sky.

When he had stocked his kitchen, garage, deep double walled bedroom closet, cellar, pigeon roof den and underground hideout, he went to stock the outhouse and the peripheral wells. Most of the wells had hidden cavelike compartments which could be reached with a rope. If one were to find oneself in such a compartment cave and someone else would untie the rope from above, one would be fucked. So Igor rarely set foot anymore in these compartments, even though some of the best treasure was stashed there. Now though, with the new goods, he gave himself some time to sit and enjoy one of these places, smoke a cigarette, think. He thought long and hard and it was pleasant. Then he climbed back up the pit wall and into the Sun.

Now, all was ready. Igor got his 4x4 Subaru out and drove East, to pick up Magteld, the great witch.

Aha, that’s Magteld he thought , but soon. Enuff found that it was Hide. flying in refreshed , his 4X5 readily refurbished, as the clock 12 midnight steadily harangued.

Hello Igor he said as the latter caught by surprise , taken back into the shadows by whisps of tornadoes like furies. They challenged him with a chorus of magnificat.

youtu.be/vWpc29yC5_I

Upon hearing this, dragula, fell to greet Igor as igor praised the vampire, and wished him good journey , resolutely, churning now desire , but neither inviting the consequentially expected rebuff.

Igor then said in humoresqie tedium:

" Master, welcome back to my humbled.abode, and chrisalda will soon appear posing within apoplexia.

Magteld screeched upon hearing this, and flew into the next world, where again, he approached Sofia with tender care and comfort.

Hunyadi was long gone , missing centuries, and missed by multitudes perched on a barren mountain top.

The I’m recalled the last sight of the greatest Sultan, and swords clicking to the erorythmical beat of the dripping sword.

Igor: at last says, “Master…” As the double heads of St.John&Medusa fell by the wayside , foreshadowing the revolution…

Immediately upon arrival Igor had planted his seed in the surface of the red planet as supposedly it’ll grow a clone after 12 summers. Magteld was teaching him rapidly. She was taking a bath with blood, a bloodbath as she aptly called it, and the froth on the foam of it was purple as Caesars robe and glistened in the faint sunlight that came through the windows overlooking the Valley of Hundreds, where the first battle had been waged Mano a Mano in low gravity.

Igor approached her skeptically as the musky smell made him a bit faint to be fair, and Magteld ridiculed him with her pale blue eyes. Slowly Igor disrobed and his muscular torso ended Magtelds ridicule and what came next made her moan and forget about ironies.
Igor had however not forgotten the bloody, blood. He was now supposed to make love to Magteld in this bloodbath? It seemed … bad.

Dont you wanna just go out for a steak or a burger and fuck in the car? He asked. Angrily, Magteld splashed the blood and it smeared his face.
You will get into this tub with me! She ordered.
Igor took a deep breath and complied.
Its kept exactly at 37 degrees celsius, Magteld confided.
At what point does blood actually boil? Igor inquired, but Magteld did not think it as serious a question as Igor had intended it, as he was a fiend for hot baths.
He sat down into the fluid and winced. Magteld touched his nose with a bloody finger and cooed.
Igor found this all very strange, and he feared it was all about to get a lot stranger.

After, Igor swum in the river for four hours. He went down under water for two minutes straight a few times, and in the end he sort of felt he had gotten the blood off of him. The fact that it had been elephant blood made it both better and worse, mostly a bit better though because it was at least noble blood. Connubinating in pigs blood would have destroyed his soul, probably.

The river whispered, when he got out but Igor decided he didn’t hear anything. He went home where his wife was waiting with a pork roast.

Igor had a laughing spell with the laudanum-sulfur-cocaine capsule in him, and he retrieved his glad spirits and returned, it was night now, to the river. He asked: river, you said something to me the other day, was it this day?
Te river rustled, as to confirmed it had been indeed, and Igor stepped in and let himself sink into the stream and floated along with it a while like a log of wood, tumbling with the current, slowly understanding.

When he got out he was seven miles downstream and realized he has brought his wallet with a lot of paper money in it. He decided not to look and look at the stars instead.

Looking up after the sky had cleared, the trees in the dark dripping, their thirst only partially quenched, Igor was faintly aware of someone staring back at him. His eye shifted and fell on a bright red star in the North. Hello, Igor uttered before he knew it, and a gust of wind shook loose a cool mist from the trees which enveloped him in a damp shroud, and Igor saw silver and light dancing and, characters appeared out of them. Igor arranged them instinctively into the name he knew was now his own.
Igor went inside and drank his tea. Much was changed. but you would not know it.

Igor, unbeknownst to himself, was in possession of a tiger. Somewhere in a train wagon, it was located en-route, on its way to Igor through very dank material; Earth. Or Erf as the dank says, the one eyed, the the tree full of ravens, the origin, the plateau of a thousand mirrors.
On the equinox of time in the bushes lay a wasted can with a crack hole it for smoking with a straw. Igor picked it up and held it in front of his face to communicate with it.
Alien species, Igor uttered. Tell me your whisper.
Then he coughed and smote the can of crack away from him in disgust at his own amiability for what he had found from a dank tree in the windless park.
But he re approached the can with a wide circular motion and might have as well been chanting Comanche and ululating at the spot. But he burned his candle in other ways and closed in, encroaching, on the can of forbidden lore.
Yo, Dungeon! He yelled.
The park was empty and vast. Not quite 10 dimensional vast but not small either.

Now the precarious reader, cornucopious in anticipation, would here consider the crack, and the tiger, together as a Category and salivate (mentally) in a great state of lush. How now, brown tiger? As the saying goes. Igor looked at his digital ultrafiber super nonsense turbo watch and forgot from all the parameters what he was looking for. The Sun was high on above though so Igor knew his rival was about to set himself foot on a the pitch and take aim. Nowhere near was the crow who had called for the battle; she hid behind the Sun and snickered and took some snacks. As crows are prone to my lord!

Igor took a vacation from reality and found himself back on the bank of a river. And the river said, "Dip your hook in my flow and see what you are able to catch. " Igor caught a limb, which pulled him into the river. He barely escaped drowning having caught a cold. He caught pneumonia from the cold, but recovered in a bed with dreams about a river that was a looking glass.

On that vacation , You thaw, from arc’s past cold survival - little hop along, smiles eyes to see, unbrazen by Solomon’s judgement will strengthen him ,

for what cant kill him will make him strong. gospel.
according to igor quite in rigor.

The beauty and the beast between gain serpentine knowledge.

Igor, playing the Devil’s advocate, prayed, “Will I ever be One Thing?”

Dracula enters and hearing this , unfurls his wings into angelic figures

Out,

The

and tigers of bedlam on earth ,snap into action by its own volition.

and they up in heaven’s trajectory

Of course he as his function demands layed up in the eternal baroque casket smoke of whisp, alabaster and granite

Marble cold within heart of darkness

Resonate withal the ethereal beneath

as above in unison,

No, never and always now, how brown cow straying eternal indias, sCored patches,

Obliged to forget

only to remember what’s unforgettable
Compelled to repeat what’s unique ,

Divide into the minuscule

undetermined tiniest parts
Each within a cell of thought
Of his own
thinking. that, but fearing as if. he be another

Going up then falling , again down for joy and at pain

in this glorious son,

Shine illuminating all corners included labs. of of terms and odious trembling of just turned children, boys into men,

Black into white and the froth in between
legs of ivory , praying:

Upon discovering the dew, “oh god don’t destroy this world quite yet until I am spent”

Sysiphus with the Son melting his wings, time shrinking

into an abyss coincidentally unified ,

As if through a glass,

Darkly yet emancipated from his sevitude"

Cyborgs raised into 7 th heaven
Singing and beyond choirs of angels:

“all in One, and one for All”

Whisps of sea spray on hold the scene, unfurled the clouds the green valley below ,

to expose a ray intense light upon the birth of Venus.

rising out of a shell.

See? Shall

With baby igor, in trembling embrace to her bosom suckling

Then the baby , unwittingly bit her yits too hard. Causing scarlet drivulets to steam , …

Well that was too much for her, she threw the baby out in a arc of maligned path toward the azure orange horizon of twilight.

The sound of splashing and then silence.

He surfaced with a keen ability to swim toward unforeseen islands in the sun.