The Bohemian Deconstruction
A short tale about one incalculable friendship forged between poems and equations.
When Allin and I agreed on the terms of our outrageous bet; one late night, right after an art vernissage, years and years ago in Montreal… the handful of artists having a drink with us shivered.
An hour or so ago, we had all left the buzz behind and climbed the stairs to find ourselves inside this magnificent attic… wooden floors, dramatic beams, art piled everywhere, a couple of big leather couches.
We sat down and begun to talk.
Bohemians… who truly are these people?
A bunch of drunkards?
Maybe, I can tell you this though… they rarely say no to a drink.
Earlier that day I had agreed to attend this vernissage in Old Montreal. Tuesday night and not much going around, didn’t expect much of it. Perhaps you’ve noticed it already, apparently our best moments come out from the lowest expectations… go figure.
But not in a million years I would’ve expected to meet Allin. Not there, and frankly not anywhere. Guys like him are highly improbable. At times I think that the only plausible answer, from a purely statistical perspective, is that he is -still- a figment of my imagination. Could it be?
Are Bohemians smarter than us?
What makes them so special?
At first glance they seem way more stupid.
Chaotic lives, always meandering here and there… and of course, their questionable morality.
In a way, they behave like those crazy pinball silver balls.
who the hell would dare to understand them... and who truly knows what will they do next.
Later that summer I saw Allin grab a sharpie, and with it, write one splendid impromptu poem on the bare buttocks of an enthusiastic Swedish tourist; under the absolute spell, blessing and surprise of the moon.
Couple of years later he signed the weirdest affidavit at a most serious lawyer’s conference room table… “Alberto did indeed sing out loud -while driving to New York- Jesus Christ Superstar by Frank Lloyd Webber”. Could you imagine the chances of such a document coming to light? Let alone the reasons… Allin insisted then, that the name of the author had to be written down, otherwise he’d walk, and the whole case would go to hell… Ars gratia pro Artis! he said… omg.
And every single one of these and many other colorful events begun that magical night, with our first bet.
Angels of light
divine incarnations
of the essential drive
Bohemians walk along the contours of truth
they cannot help it
but defy and stand against!
all probable, trivial and forgettable trajectories:
"In poetry they are the uncontested novelty
and in mathematics
a formula of infinite variables"
Our bet sprung out of a sheer state of exaltation, you know, when the moment rises above the clouds to new heights, and we immerse into the unknown. Magnetic and electric forces seem to finally engage in their most essential rhythm, and we then become (finally!) nothing but authentic vessels of the Universe.
We become beauty, we become truth.
My arrogance took the best out of me. At the apex of the night, I stood up and challenged Allin to take three minutes to write a poem and I -The Douche Supreme- would in place take another three minutes to translate the Poem. Not to French, not even to Spanish; but to its very fundamental mathematical equation, to the language of the Universe! Then and there we would solve the riddle once and for all.
Rarely have I felt so good and so bad about myself at the same time.
Rarely have I met someone I could truly be myself with.
Suffice to say… we both won. We won a friendship larger than the largest version of the Universe. We both connected beauty and truth one summer night.
Now the most precious napkin in the entire world is carefully kept chez Allin, inside a wooden drawer.
And sometimes when I close my eyes… I can still feel its delicate texture electrifying the tip of my fingers.
“The Alpha & the Omega
the pulse of life
the path of least resistance
The voice still forward behind”.
------------------------------
At times, to truly understand, we must withdraw reason.
The Box Totem below questions the ruling of the Brain.
Long life to the heart!