Man Boasts Castle About Which World Rotates
I myself yearn for a castle. I have done so for many years. It and its surrounding village would be a place where people do as they wish, when they wish it, while in perfect harmony always. There would be music, storytelling, dancing, and all the things that might make a person feel wholesomely alive.
In six years time, if all goes right, Spengleton’s castle will open its doors. Last year, I said it would be seven.
During my current pre-castle phase, an anonymous agop put forth an effort to build a castle of his own imagining. I am thankful of — but I admit, confused by — his outlook.
His castle is in the shape of a van, but made from bricks and mortar and sitting upon a struggling iron axle with doubled wheels. It drives slowly, not steadily. As it goes, four belching mufflers pull the attention of people on the backroads of Amherst. It garners further attention when its driver, having no windows to see through but a narrow mail slot, barrels over curbs, potholes, and more than occasional mailboxes along his way.
I have only ever seen the man in the stone van through his narrow mail slot. I would see his eyes and a bit of reddened cheek, but not much else. However, his voice reigned familiar from my time visiting Hampshire County Jail .
We conversed about castles in general terms — methods of their construction, the history of them, and the future — all without speaking much in detail about our individual visions.
Eventually, though, we arrived at the topic of his lifestyle.
Firstly, there is this: He considers his castle a castle and nothing in the sort of automobiles. In fact, he was confused when I mentioned the wheels beneath it and denies that they exist. While I see his "castle" as an obnoxious and dangerous automobile, he believes that it is stationary and that the world rotates beneath it, delivering to him persons like myself who will hear and spread his story. He has a term, The Grand Conveyor, which describes the entity which rotates the world beneath him in his favor (always in his favor).
Secondly, there is this: He is permanently enclosed inside, by choice. I asked him why he enclosed himself. He told me, “because [he] needed a space to focus on his paintings.” He told me, “Because [he] needed space away from those who berated him.” He told me, “because there is more to offer inside than out”. He told me a variety of reasons… In the process, many times over, he mentioned “his story”. And eventually, he admitted that “people are most eager to speak for those who cannot possibly speak for themselves.” He said that he ultimately enclosed himself so that people would spread his story further than he ever could by his lonesome.
Thirdly, there is this: He is unwilling or unable to retrieve food. He requires patrons such as myself and possibly yourself to deliver him food through his mail slot. And they (and I) naturally continue. Maybe you will yourself, onwards ever after.
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