Harry Dean Stanton, venerable character actor, slipped the guards and went on his merry way yesterday. My old man knew him long before he established a name for himself, and allegedly HDS would watch us toddlers from time to time. I have no recollection of those early years but Harry would always bring his guitar, sez the old man, and serenade anyone within earshot.
I used to find synchronistic events amusing, having long ago been instructed by The Master of Esoterica to just let them hover and dissipate, never trying to set my watch by them or let them guide my decisions. Yesterday I had a rare day off so I lingered in bed for a while, deciding that this would be a good time to test the hypnogogic waters again and try to stay in a trance to see what hallucinations would arise. As I am something of a control freak, this kind of behavior is antithetical to my nature and so I rarely stay “under” for more than a minute or so before slapping myself silly and vowing never to do that again. (Patterns emerge, and textures, all in a gray blue fog. Sometimes medieval stone carvings appear. No clue.)
Once I was breathing normally again, and before I knew that he had just died, Harry Dean popped into my head, specifically his cameo in Godfather II. It was the scene where he breaks down the door to find Frankie Pentangles dead in the tub, the turncoat having slashed his own wrists per the implied command of Michael Corleone via consigliore Tom Hagen in order to save his surviving family from Corleone retribution.
This wasn’t a total surprise as I had been doing lines from Part II with my favorite tavern owner the night before so the file was still open in a sense. As I left the house, I nearly stepped over a large dead rat in the gutter, not at the time connecting that with dead Frankie the rat Harry finds bled out.
Soon a friend informed me about Harry’s demise and as I was on my way to that aforementioned tavern to toast the guy, a dead pigeon lay in front of me not half a block from my destination. Immediately the synchronistic nature of the two symbols for betrayal aligned in my sotted brain. Unfortunately, I’m not at all clear what the message is, but it seems too neat to not mean something, Harry.
Just now, at work, I was watching a TV program on break and the ear buds I was using nearly drowned out the ringing of the office phone. The scene I was watching involved one of the characters getting a cochlear implant as she was deaf in that ear. The caller was the spouse of a co-worker and he is deaf in one ear.
Harry had nothing to do with that cluster fuck of synch but it’s clear the yield is bountiful this go round so I will take any interpretations as to what whatever it is, is trying to tell me. (That I’m deaf to an obvious message?)
This woo woo also reminds me that time is truly a synthetic construct and therefore unnatural to the human condition. It’s like the sense we have here at POM that the twins/zombies are indicators of something larger and more profound but I for one am still too chicken to venture out of the shallows. Maybe those trances will tell me something if I grow a pair and jump in the deep end.
“Heading north at a hundred and ten per…”