Baboon Palace

I was going through some of my old notebooks this morning. The oldest notebook I still have is from my last few years in Ontario, roughly 2001-2003. It’s not really a journal, just a book to keep scraps of info, notes to self, addresses and phone numbers, grocery lists, driving directions, etc.. All the short half-life data necessary to manage daily existence.

It still sort of works like a journal. It reminds me of the kind of things I was doing three years ago, looking for apartments, (I moved about five times in those three years); planning for Burning Man and other camping trips; taking notes on metaphysics and epistemology. It’s amazing how many numbers it takes to get around in the world.

Anyways, I found the following written on two pages. I have no idea why I wrote this or what it means, but I suspect it contains some deep truth, either of the universe or my own psychology:

KLMN
RSTU

H1..H4
J1..J4

J	K	M		S
H	Y		U

	S
	R	U

M(J) L(H) U(3,H)
S(J) R(H)

L:GHJK
S:XYZ

An early effort at absurdist poetry perhaps? It’s pretty sub-standard, I’ll admit. Still, it has a nice visual rhythm to it, IM(H)O.

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