He found the first speaker in the dark tunnel and muffled it with his right hand. Yes. He could hear the next sound source in the distance. His confidence rising slightly even as his memory fought to establish past,present,and future. "ha!" he snorted, even as he yanked the speaker in his hand sharply in a downward direction. "the question is 'Which one?'!"

A Rare Moment

He was so unimaginably old now - still sitting at the desk with the ancient Typer (long since modified into a Steam Punk computer interface). He knew that just thinking about the Pathway that had brought him to this point would unfold the origami nested in his memory ... AGAIN. One more time, just for old times sake.
 "One more for the rode!" somebody said as he turned around and found himself once more in the cave of speakers, following the distant sound, knowing what he would find and delighting in the maintainability (and similarity)  of Simultaneity. 

Way longer and uglier than I could have imagined it being- back in the remote past when I began this process. Not unlike many of the projects that I have begun:
  The general idea of Never:Mind was to create fragments for a self-referential story about fragments of stories generated by a man out of sync with time sitting at his desk, but experiencing not just his life, but the writing of the story of his life, in the wrong order. The Box of Old fragments is still under the bed and rarely opened or even thought about.
 I'm tempted to talk about my memories of the stuff in the box, like an aging star referring to past glory. Except that there is no star; no glory- not past, present, and maybe not even future. Not in the box of Never:Mind. It's a direct analogue of my life. A metaphor not unlike the Meta web site I'm currently allowing to percolate in my mind.
 You see I don't let just any idea in. I try not to give energy to Bull Shit.
This blog is getting far messier than even Never:Mind dreamed of containing.
There were "Dreams of a Mouse";"The Man at the Typer";"The Fragments of Notes";"The Hallway of Speakers";"The Grassy Field";"..."
 Hopefully, I can present the bulk of the Narrative in the wrong order. A Post Modern Tale way too late to be Post Modern. It will have to settle to the bottom of the lake as Post Contemporary.

February 23, 2015 Update

I had an opportunity to read some of the stuff in the box.
I threw much of what I read away after only one reading.
This project may turn out to be more difficult than I imagined...
...and uglier.

Never:Mind the Intro

I  contemplate the box with contempt. It is full of papers; bags full of papers; and books (also full of papers). The box was intended to contain the rough draft of a post-modern novel. But now it is too late. There will be no rewrites, no brilliant insights, no speaking tours. What the box did - and still does - contain is a dream. I hesitate to say a 'broken dream', because maybe the whole thing will transform into a post-contemporary blog!
   Having said that, I realize this is going to be crude.
Good!
Some things will not get the rewrite they deserve.
Good!
Some things will be wildly out of order.
Good!
Transcribing the stuff ( threads and strings) from the box is a very old idea, stretching back thirty years or more. I like the idea of the archeological  dig under my bed, in my brain, and within the original concept hatched or at least incubated back in time - at Art School.
 It was intended to be out of time and now that I am indeed running out of time, it seems a blog of pure words, without images or perhaps, even syntax, will spill Never:Mind out into the internet at least and at last. The very last, unedited and combined with references from another time. Oddly, and ironically, this is more or less exactly as the original concept was imagined.
  Time is undefined.
Space is infinite.
And as for the soul, there's only One ... So, we all have to share.