The Not See Who Blinked
Somewhere, where flagpoles are manifestos and holiday lights are proclamations, there live a people who believe a lie.
A lie so treacherous... that, were I to lay bare this truth without first laying bare a truth less black... you'd contemptuously judge me: false, I say, false!
For somewhere is everywhere... and my somewhere is as yours as yours is mine.
It's simple really:
Somewhere, where there live a people who are a people as yours as yours are mine, there live a people of not sees who lie to themselves and each other and avow:
I. I stand for the whipping posts and the god blessed and the family and the shelter and the tender and the torture and the slaver and the myrrh and the frankincense and the gold and the unrequited and the indulgence and the Dorian Gray and the scheme and the conspiratorial and the snuff and the price and the pleasure and the sadist and the evasion and the integrity and the crusade and the do gooder and the boycott and the embezzler and the prostitute and the wiser and the none and the trafficker and the warfare and the campaigns and the frenemieship and the commodious and the like minded and the fear and the envy and the nursed and the bonfire and the followers and the likes and the hollow and the morality and the Gatsby and the for hire and the gigolo and the side hustle and the paedophile and the ejaculation and the counterfeit and the for sale and the poison and the drug dealer to be unspared Judgment Just.
For I. I see the not see and the not see is not I. For I. I crucify not the Truth. For I. I sit not upon Unjudgment Unjust. For I. I will Happy Christmas unto
All.
A lie so treacherous... that, were I to lay bare this truth without first laying bare a truth less black... you'd contemptuously judge me: false, I say, false!
For somewhere is everywhere... and my somewhere is as yours as yours is mine.
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What is it like... to be you? To see but not see.
You see... coming and going. I see... a drug dealer whose poison for sale is counterfeit ejaculation... a paedophile whose side hustle is gigolo for hire... a Gatsby whose morality is as hollow as likes and followers...
You see... harmlessness and innocence. I see... bonfires nursed by envy and fear... attended by the like minded whose commodious frenemieship fuel campaigns and embolden warfare...
You see... life grabbed by the horns and passing by. I see... a trafficker whose plus one is none the wiser prostitute... an embezzler whose transparency boycott is the do gooder's crusade of integrity evasion... a sadist whose pleasure's price is snuff and conspiratorial scheme... a Dorian Gray whose indulgence is unrequited by gold and frankincense and myrrh... a slaver whose torture tender is shelter and family as god blessed as whipping posts...
You see... life grabbed by the horns and passing by. I see... a trafficker whose plus one is none the wiser prostitute... an embezzler whose transparency boycott is the do gooder's crusade of integrity evasion... a sadist whose pleasure's price is snuff and conspiratorial scheme... a Dorian Gray whose indulgence is unrequited by gold and frankincense and myrrh... a slaver whose torture tender is shelter and family as god blessed as whipping posts...
You see... the witness of your own eyes hand in hand with your own mind... and you see your coming and your going, your harmlessness and your innocence, your life grabbed by the horns and passing by, your witness... and you believe: to be is to see...
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I am no surrogate or illusion, no mouthpiece or unreal. Indeed that I am all too nakedly real is how I know:
To be what you are not... to be instead what you present... is surrogacy.
Presented thus, such you is a surrogate of the you you are, a mouthpiece as unreal as an illusion.
Presented thus, such you is a surrogate of the you you are, a mouthpiece as unreal as an illusion.
To see then... is to see coming and going as surrogacy; harmlessness and innocence as illusion; life and you.
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But. I am a people coming and going. I live and breathe as the good Lord intended. For I hustle the good honest hustle and I fight the good honest fight. No criminal whose fortune is illegitimate am I.
Why isn't it you who bleeds as black as sin?
Me too. I am a people neighboring and sainting. My manifesto and my proclamation is most harmless and most innocent. No collaborator of ill will am I.
Why isn't it you whose envy and fear bear witness and testimony that lie?
And I. I am a people carpeing and dieming. Grateful am I for hale and love and haven and fate. How dare you malign me without proof of my wrong!
Why isn't it you who is false and treacherous?
Why isn't it you who bleeds as black as sin?
Me too. I am a people neighboring and sainting. My manifesto and my proclamation is most harmless and most innocent. No collaborator of ill will am I.
Why isn't it you whose envy and fear bear witness and testimony that lie?
And I. I am a people carpeing and dieming. Grateful am I for hale and love and haven and fate. How dare you malign me without proof of my wrong!
Why isn't it you who is false and treacherous?
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Why am I not the villain?
It's simple really:
I am not the villain for the same reason you are not the hero.
I am not the villain for the same reason you are not the hero.
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Somewhere, where there live a people who live a lie... a package arrives. It promises easy riches for the hustler and shameless exploitation for the hustled. It is the American dream in brown paper packaging tied up with string. What isn't harmless about a song and a dream and a dance of poison roulette?
Also... a message arrives. How saintly il santo who neighbors endings fluid. And happy? Well, who's to say that which is welcome with denomination near worthless is felice? Notwithstanding, a receptacle for dog shit is hardly an honor urbane and authentic for ricordi di dio. Tsk tsk.
Also... an attendance roll is swelling. Oh the olives; the cheeses; the wines. So mount; so intimacy; so généreux. To envy the mythic money tree that lavishes such pomp such soirée with such wealthlessness such namelessness is but human. Though le secret of global positioning systems and photo editing software and the technological like is boner killingly candide.
Somewhere, where there live a people who live a lie... a doubting Thomas is a corporate fairy tale, a household parable, nay, a purposed axiom. Because a doubting doubter who believes doubt's witness is a believer in the witness of doubt's own eyes hand in hand with doubt's own mind.
Somewhere, where there live a people who live a lie... a doubting Thomas is a corporate fairy tale, a household parable, nay, a purposed axiom. Because a doubting doubter who believes doubt's witness is a believer in the witness of doubt's own eyes hand in hand with doubt's own mind.
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I receive no packages; no messages; no attendees. It is therefore impossible for me to be the drug dealer; the gigolo; the Gatsby. It further follows that the wealth I possess is unlikely to be illegitimate given my overt absence of association with each and every exertion of undeniable illegitimacy within my immediacy.
(Likewise, I neither solicit nor acquire the facile worship and company of children naive and duplicitous; it is therefore unlikely for me to be the paedophile, much less the paedophile alter egoing as the giver of fucks.)
Moreover, my residence is unadorned with flagpoles and holiday lights; I am therefore not manifestoing or proclamating.
As for bonfires and campaigns and warfare, quite simply, I neither harbor nor seek the frenemieship or envy and fear requisite of mongering collectives of hostility.
Furthermore, I neither engage nor pursue the commoditization of my association, period. I am therefore an improbable participant in venal alliances that greed for riches and virtues and statuses in exchange for the illusion of comraderieship and surrogacy of community. (At my expense, I'm certain.)
As for et cetera and et cetera... is the witness of my own eyes hand and hand with my own mind no less the proof of the truth than the witness of your own eyes hand and hand with your own mind?
For I see and I believe: I am is I see.
As for et cetera and et cetera... is the witness of my own eyes hand and hand with my own mind no less the proof of the truth than the witness of your own eyes hand and hand with your own mind?
For I see and I believe: I am is I see.
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Or... is doubt's own eyes hand in hand with doubt's own mind the witness of the doubting doubter who believes the not see
you
somewhere, where there live a people who are a lie?
you
somewhere, where there live a people who are a lie?
Epilogue
What is the lie the people believe? The lie so treacherous, so black?
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It's simple really:
Somewhere, where there live a people who are a people as yours as yours are mine, there live a people of not sees who lie to themselves and each other and avow:
I. I stand for the whipping posts and the god blessed and the family and the shelter and the tender and the torture and the slaver and the myrrh and the frankincense and the gold and the unrequited and the indulgence and the Dorian Gray and the scheme and the conspiratorial and the snuff and the price and the pleasure and the sadist and the evasion and the integrity and the crusade and the do gooder and the boycott and the embezzler and the prostitute and the wiser and the none and the trafficker and the warfare and the campaigns and the frenemieship and the commodious and the like minded and the fear and the envy and the nursed and the bonfire and the followers and the likes and the hollow and the morality and the Gatsby and the for hire and the gigolo and the side hustle and the paedophile and the ejaculation and the counterfeit and the for sale and the poison and the drug dealer to be unspared Judgment Just.
For I. I see the not see and the not see is not I. For I. I crucify not the Truth. For I. I sit not upon Unjudgment Unjust. For I. I will Happy Christmas unto
All.
then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free
John 8:32 (at Biblehub) from John 8 (at Biblehub)
John 8:32 (at Biblehub) from John 8 (at Biblehub)
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Author's Annotation
My use of overlapping parts of speech is deliberate and intentional. For example: I see... a slaver whose torture tender is shelter and family as god blessed as whipping posts... employs tender as a noun, verb, and adjective.
My use of multiple meanings is also deliberate and intentional. For example: And happy? Well, who's to say that which is welcome with denomination near worthless is felice? employs denomination in its nominative, monetary, and religious senses.
Moreover, my use of multiple meanings includes nuances of usage. For example: So is it surprising... the currency of a counting chicken is the eyes and the mind of doubt's people? employs currency with respect to domains, including social currency, political currency, currency of consumer confidence, currency of public opinion, etc.; and currency with respect to power, including "selling power" currency, "buying power" currency, "staying power" currency, "parlaying power" currency, etc.
While typos are banes of all published works, my use of "original" words is deliberate and intentional. For example: And I. I am a people carpeing and dieming. splits the aphorism carpe diem into verbs, adjectives, and nouns. (See overlapping parts of speech above. Likewise, multiple meanings.)
For the sake of brevity, only a particle of that which is, is explored herein. Note as that which is evidentiary blurs into that which is voyeur, my election of selectivity is deliberate and intentional. For example: I see... an embezzler whose transparency boycott is the do gooder's crusade of integrity evasion... a sadist whose pleasure's price is snuff and conspiratorial scheme... a Dorian Gray whose indulgence is unrequited by gold and frankincense and myrrh... is also:
I see... an embezzler whose security hysteria is the fake cross of the to blame... a sadist who hard ons for stonings feral and public... a Dorian Gray whose mercenary disguise is care...
Which is to say, The Not See Who Blinked is by no means an exercise exhaustive or exclusive.
Likewise, this "addendum", including prefacing quote, annotation, and note.
Author's Note
When you see Meal Ticket (Ballad of Buster Scruggs)... what do you see?
I see a people who drive fistfuls of tender at a counting chicken. So is it surprising, where there live a people, a people as yours as yours is mine... the currency of a counting chicken is the eyes and the mind of doubt's people?
When you see Black Museum (Black Mirror)... what do you see?
I see a people for whom a counting chicken is not enough. So is it surprising, where there live a people, a people as yours as yours is mine... pleasure's price, pain's price, nay life's price is doubt's measure?
Somewhere, not a particle different than everywhere, there live a people who believe... the chicken is apocrypha, convenient artifice. Not I, say such people. Not the fruit of I toil, say such people. Not the voice of I free, say such people.
And there live a people who believe... the museum is figment, obvious prop. Never I, say such people. Never the reap of I sow, say such people. Never the power of I free, say such people.
So is it surprising... a doubting doubter who believes doubt's witness... who is a believer in the witness of doubt's own eyes hand in hand with doubt's own mind... is a corporate fairy tale, a household parable, nay, a purposed axiom... somewhere, not a particle different than everywhere, where there live a people who believe?
If... to know the truth is to be set free, then know this:
stones, drenched in fistfuls of measure, driven with deliberation and intention, in the name of manifestos and proclamations...
are no more harmless or innocent than to not see is heroic.
M
My use of overlapping parts of speech is deliberate and intentional. For example: I see... a slaver whose torture tender is shelter and family as god blessed as whipping posts... employs tender as a noun, verb, and adjective.
My use of multiple meanings is also deliberate and intentional. For example: And happy? Well, who's to say that which is welcome with denomination near worthless is felice? employs denomination in its nominative, monetary, and religious senses.
Moreover, my use of multiple meanings includes nuances of usage. For example: So is it surprising... the currency of a counting chicken is the eyes and the mind of doubt's people? employs currency with respect to domains, including social currency, political currency, currency of consumer confidence, currency of public opinion, etc.; and currency with respect to power, including "selling power" currency, "buying power" currency, "staying power" currency, "parlaying power" currency, etc.
While typos are banes of all published works, my use of "original" words is deliberate and intentional. For example: And I. I am a people carpeing and dieming. splits the aphorism carpe diem into verbs, adjectives, and nouns. (See overlapping parts of speech above. Likewise, multiple meanings.)
For the sake of brevity, only a particle of that which is, is explored herein. Note as that which is evidentiary blurs into that which is voyeur, my election of selectivity is deliberate and intentional. For example: I see... an embezzler whose transparency boycott is the do gooder's crusade of integrity evasion... a sadist whose pleasure's price is snuff and conspiratorial scheme... a Dorian Gray whose indulgence is unrequited by gold and frankincense and myrrh... is also:
I see... an embezzler whose security hysteria is the fake cross of the to blame... a sadist who hard ons for stonings feral and public... a Dorian Gray whose mercenary disguise is care...
Which is to say, The Not See Who Blinked is by no means an exercise exhaustive or exclusive.
Likewise, this "addendum", including prefacing quote, annotation, and note.
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Author's Note
When you see Meal Ticket (Ballad of Buster Scruggs)... what do you see?
I see a people who drive fistfuls of tender at a counting chicken. So is it surprising, where there live a people, a people as yours as yours is mine... the currency of a counting chicken is the eyes and the mind of doubt's people?
When you see Black Museum (Black Mirror)... what do you see?
I see a people for whom a counting chicken is not enough. So is it surprising, where there live a people, a people as yours as yours is mine... pleasure's price, pain's price, nay life's price is doubt's measure?
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Somewhere, not a particle different than everywhere, there live a people who believe... the chicken is apocrypha, convenient artifice. Not I, say such people. Not the fruit of I toil, say such people. Not the voice of I free, say such people.
And there live a people who believe... the museum is figment, obvious prop. Never I, say such people. Never the reap of I sow, say such people. Never the power of I free, say such people.
So is it surprising... a doubting doubter who believes doubt's witness... who is a believer in the witness of doubt's own eyes hand in hand with doubt's own mind... is a corporate fairy tale, a household parable, nay, a purposed axiom... somewhere, not a particle different than everywhere, where there live a people who believe?
*
If... to know the truth is to be set free, then know this:
stones, drenched in fistfuls of measure, driven with deliberation and intention, in the name of manifestos and proclamations...
are no more harmless or innocent than to not see is heroic.
M
Some who there is a person, maybe you or me,
ReplyDeleteSome where there is a thought, maybe covert or obvious,
Some what there is a truth, maybe yours or everyone,
Some when there is a stone, maybe to ratify or extirpate,
Some why there is a motive, maybe ignoble or noble,
Some how there is a book, maybe manifest or palpable
Here you are person with thoughts covert,
Holding your lie ratified in stone,
With a motive ignoble driven by palpable books of lore.
Here I am a person with a thought so obvious,
Holding everyone’s truth extirpating stone,
With a motive noble driven perspicuously by the book.
You with your lie and thoughts so covert,
Ratified in stone with a motive ignoble,
Driven by palpable books of lore,
Would sooner die than seek the truth.
Me with my truth and thoughts obvious,
Holding truth extirpating stones with a motive noble,
Driven perspicuously by the universal book,
Would sooner die than speak your lie.
To see or not to see that is the very question of to be good or to not be good.
ReplyDeleteThe good blink with acceptance of the truth, and then thrust themselves into the world as it is, not the daydream of their mind. With every blink the world becomes clearer as the lies of currency, denomination, and tender are obliterated from their sight. They then seek not glory or fame but rather to enter the world and to truth.
The bad blink and choose to rever about the fantasie and mirage that exists but in their mind. Each blink is a wound upon them, fueling their hatred and embrace of the lies of currency, denomination, and tender as they seek to expunge those that would so wound them. They then pick up the stones and cast them gloriously and with much fame at the gymbr who so affronts them.
Black is the museum where the only meal ticket is one which counts chickens and then burns down or casts into the river the truth.
!@#$ing brilliant this story. This is the best !@#$ way to end my !@#$ing year. Reading this makes me realize that it is no !@#$ing wonder that to not see or choose to not see prepare !@#hole humans well for their role as a corpse in yet another !@#$ing multiverse hit zombie movie.
ReplyDeleteWhen I see Black Museum…. I see those that not see who put currency, denomination, and tender ahead of the truth. The not see not the stories of the museum but the counting chicken. It is not surprising then that there live the not see, a people as yours as yours is not mine… where prices pleasure, pain, and sins in doubt’s measures easily wiped clear with burning the museum to the ground.
ReplyDeleteAnd for those doubting not see… the museum is nothing but a figment. Never existed, say such people. Never saw it or held it, say such people. Never the power to help me, say such people.
So is it really that surprising… doubters and not sees who know not the truth… and will never be set free? Slaves to the embezzler whose security hysteria is the fake cross of the to blame… to the sadist who hard ons for stonings feral and public… to the Dorian Gray whose mercenary disguise is care… to the Gatsby whose morality is as hollow as your likes and follows. After all – are not slavers as heroic and innocent and harmless in Black Museum of your heart and soul.
This piece reminds me that society is equanimous and detached such that the, “sane,” and, “rational,” observe the truth with apathy and manifests. Is it no wonder then that each generation has its own, “boogey-man,” or, “counting chicken,” that grows or crops up in the same ways that the previous ones did? The wonder is that we have not learned and refuse to learn that apathy and equanimity towards the truth creates a desire to burn down museums, discard meal tickets, and remove the “fake” artifacts of our past. For those of you that cheered as the Black Museum burned, you are the very reason why the next generation will be doomed to make the same mistakes that yours did as all evidence for the doubters and the not sees has been removed.
ReplyDeleteAs I read this I cannot help but think that the more people escape from how horrible things have become, the less likely it will bother them as their mirages are constructed and buttressed with technological pills until in the end things get so bad that when the choice becomes between the difficult truth to save all and a simple lie to save you, people will take the lie and it will kill them all.
ReplyDeleteBrown paper, saintly appearances, attendance rolls, and popular manners are cloaks and lies to mask a soul blackened by not see.
ReplyDeleteYes but a blackened soul is better than those too innocent to be willing to do what it takes to make this place great.
DeleteFlags that fly flap louder than those that don't, maybe because one knows that they lack the hot air to make the flap be heard across the swamp of a land shared.
ReplyDeleteFescue is greener than others, maybe because the !@#$ that spews forth from a lodge is thicker when the house is larger.
Bonfires light up the sky to compensate for the darkness of no fire, maybe because they have endless supplies of gasoline to dump on the fire whereas the other does not.
The grandeur from the windy village is impressive to view until you realize that like all windy places only the rocks of truth will not blow away.
You, my dear, are a sorceress of language and imagery, and it warms my heart to read and re-read your works, closer each time as each and every meaning and word is laid bare before me. Perhaps the most brilliant is the way in which you prove your thoughts while not eroding the joy of the story itself. That, my love, is truly magical and divine. Thank you and know that there are those of us who love and hang on each of your works.
ReplyDeleteGratulerer med dagen!
Ah! Tyr! A perfect example of Black Museum. Now nothing more than a scant reference here or there, replaced by a more aptly named deity.
DeleteLet’s play a game of what-if shall we?
ReplyDeleteWhat if we lived in a world where once the Meal Ticket of a grand and old party was yearning for days gone by where people were better, freer, and things were not so corrupt? For a time, peoples were willing to cast their coin and support to quotes from Lincoln, Shelley, and Shakespeare – the staples of this grand and old party. For this time was great – they could feast while others starved, bed the whore while talking of the value of morality and enjoy warm beds on the coldest nights. But then the audience dwindled, the coin slowed, and the grand and old party was no longer able to indulge itself or sway the world as they once did. Seeking answers, they saw crowds flocking to a show where a counting chicken followed a script and people were willing to cast coin, support, and admiration for this chicken that was so brilliant, so smart, and so captivating. How quickly they discarded their quotes and dreams of the past, drowning them in the nearest river, for this superficial craze that would swell their coffers and make them great again. They cared not that the chicken cared nothing for being better, freer, or less corrupt, for all of that was less important than the riches, the fame, and the power that could be achieved through this chicken. They could control this chicken for they are the impresario, the master of the show. Now what if – this is not a what if but rather the very world that we find ourselves in now. And lest we forget the warning of Ozymandias where the king of kings, whose works are so mighty that we should despair, have nothing but a pedestal with words next to nothing, surrounded by decay of a colossal wreck that is boundless and bare where lone and level sands stretch far away. What if indeed…
To the not see, what you see is not possible here, there, or anywhere. Yet, why is it so hard to see that the people in this story are here, there, and everywhere regardless of currency, denomination, or any other label. Of course to see that one must open your eyes and accept that these people may very well be you and yours.
ReplyDeleteDamnatio Memoriae – condemnation of memory – is where we are headed as a society but is it the right path for us? Think of all the mortal sins in this story and that of Black Museum. Should they be wiped from existence along with the memory of the person; or should we remember the sin so that we might learn from them? Are we not on the verge of redacting history, movies, songs, and other things to remove those that stand accused of the sins that we find unacceptable while others have their sins redacted from history because we view them as heroes? Is that not what happens in Black Museum where the villain’s sins and existence is permanently removed by a fire set by a hero that also has her sins permanently removed as well? Is there not a danger that such erasures embolden the not see and the doubters to new heights? Would the next logical step be to burn or bring down archives, libraries, museums, statues, and anything in between that marks what so offends the heroes? Is that not what is happening now and has happened ad infinitum? And as each comes down, how long before we forget the genocides, the plagues, the wars, and the hatred? How long before we perpetuate them again, having forgotten what started them? And how long before we move on to the scriptures, the texts, and other books where they either offend us or are works that cannot be proven? Once that is gone, how long before we move to erase anyone who dares to contradict the lie that we weave in their places? How long before nothing exists anymore except two murderers in the same mind and a teddy bear only capable of asking for a hug or saying I love you? Is this worth the price of what you will not see and are so hell pressed to ensure that you never see?
ReplyDeleteI find myself in a shadowed forest, having lost a path that I did not think I could stray from as my life approaches its halfway point. Words wobble and voices crack as I am deathly afraid of the shadow as I look upon its density, stillness, and strangeness. Yet, my soul speaks of it fondly – daring me to look past the attendance rolls, bonfires, flagpoles, and holiday lights of my life and look into the darkness of this place. A song is whispered on the wind and soon I find myself step after step walking deeper into the woods despite my fears screaming me to stop. I know not why I journey this path as I am so full of sleep and should just stop and rest but with each step, I feel less tired and more and more awake. Black are the lies of the travelers going the opposite way as they speak of emptiness, darkness, and troubles. Bonfires pass, murmurs loudly spoken of why I journey to oblivion where no trace of my existence will be known. They cannot see what I see – that is that their path is the one that leads to emptiness, darkness, and troubles – besieged with lies, vices, and false idols that demand everything while giving nothing in return. I no longer wish that path so now I journey this one – eyes awakened to the world around me.
ReplyDeleteReading this post, I wonder what it be like if Jesus lived amongst us today. Of course, I don’t have that much to wonder as I need look no further than to this post and to the people who walk amongst us, seeing instead of not seeing. Believing when all evidence is in front of you even when it does not come in the adornment that you so desire. Can you imagine how challenging it would be for Jesus or any prophet to stand in front of all kind when their currency, denomination, and tender is not that of everyone else around them. Or even more, when they are of that currency, denomination, or tender but instead choose to repeatedly challenge the authorities and conventions of the day. Can you imagine the stones, slings, arrows, bullets, and pure hatred that is cast onto these people? And can you imagine that the hierarchy would like nothing less than to silence these people before others see what they see. For hierarchical structures, much like common people, have a tendency to become corrupted by the desires for influence, money, power, and status. So corrupted in fact that the come to despise anything that a) reminds them of that corruption, and b) threatens to undue it even when it’s the just and true thing to do. We would rather attack the person telling us the truth and what we don’t see then the drug dealer, the embezzler, the Gatsby, and all other forms in your post.
ReplyDeleteYes, the life of Jesus and any other, “truther,” would be pretty hard – it would be one of avoiding projectiles, attacks by the institutions, and relentless attempts at discrediting them as he and they relentlessly advocate for the truth and put themselves out there. Is that not how it was for Jesus and other prophets back in their time? Is it not interesting that nothing really has changed since then?
Not see feel the need to crucify all that is mutual and shared, they do not see the need to crucify their own selfishness or self-sufficiency. You list many sins in your post but the one sin that so many will miss is the idolization of the lie. How many of you would do anything to achieve what you and yours desire, even if it meant robbing, trafficking, or even darker crimes? And once you achieve that end, how many of you would through fire or water or earth or ink seek to hide what you did lest a future judge you wrong? In the end, it’s so easy to benefit from that which you not see as if you not see it then you don’t have to do anything about it.
ReplyDelete