7.9.15



thiswasntcomfortable



he had imagined some pretty  tenuous   ridiculous stuff
but seemed  all ways  to be able to throw his thumb up over his shoulder suggesting it was the Mickey Mouse
behind him on his a knee tying his loose shoelace who was responsible for the shit that hit the fan

historically  some shit he was responsible for and keenly avoided being fingered for still clung in places unfound
dried rock hard  

on hot days you could smell it  

and scores of people who sat down  took five or a load off  after a bit began sniffing the air asking Whats that smell
him saying I dont smell anything and they would lean over deeply to inspect their shoes and see if they hadnt stepped in dogshit on their way in

because if it wasnt the Mickey Mouse bent over tying his shoe it could always fall to the unsuspecting mutt panting
in the corner  innocently

there was no telling the number of the innocents who had taken the fall as if they were conceived expressly to take it

Christ they fell hard
                                  too informed by their innocence to recognise that innocence wasnt a state of Grace but rather
the uncanny ability to look forward see what was coming and step aside letting it pass unchecked smoking Lil Boy Blue or Pretty Polly whose heads may have been down unconvinced that this was a Game of Last Man Standing unalert or perhaps a tad too vain believing for one reason or another they walked above the common fray
their feet treading  soft  blue  air



no Mickey Mouse Lil Boy Blue or Polly Purebreed
                                                                                  he was trying his damnedest to figure out where he choked
when he dropped the ball fucked up trying to wave his confusion off samehanded as when he threw his thumb up over his shoulder
    
he understood  got  the premise of blowback
though he may have glossed over took it for granted that it wouldnt catch up with him until he was too old to outrun it
or duck

blowback is blowback is blowback

dried rock hard



he stared up into his chubby red Everlast boxing gloves attached to his chubby yellow latex balloon arms
he laid flat on his chubby back
his knees up 
                      his feet spread apart more than his shoulders width to establish a sound foundation
not tottering or rocking
swaddled in tight bright blue trunks that he couldnt get a pinch of even if he wasnt fitted with gloves


the reason he stared up was because he knew what was coming


one wasnt turned into an impossibly fat cartoon character without recognising of his comeuppance

he couldnt preclude it even if he had three wishes from a Genii in a bottle  even a drunken Genii found at the bottom of
a bottle of rye


NO  evidently he was going to get as good as he gave


his left trembled

his right answered

a bit of electricity between them


he wondered if they were going to take turns or mob him at once


he wondered if his head would be punched into a cartoonish SPLAT! like a broken water balloon and ooze around on the floor only to congeal and reassemble itself again or if it would bobble like a Bozo clown punching bag  red nose and all  BEEP!
            his wondering flickered and was ceased by a vicious left uppercut and a straight right  OH ROCK MY WORLD!
he didnt see it but a wooden bucket complete with a knot toddled off a three-legged stool and doused him with
a percolating blue brick of water in the shape of the bucketSPLASH!

he regained consciousness coughing  gasping    sputtering
then both gloves inarticulately pummeled his face at once like fat sloppy kids holding hands and jumping up and down and up and down on a trampoline in super sped-up time

light and dark shuddered in his eyes as by a frenetic strobe machine

his flinches having flinches having flinches

and inside his head a silent black and white reel of this flickered on his huge cinematic screen while someones silhouette was thrown against it to cries from the gallery Sit Down Dummy! Youre in the Way! and the musicians
in the orchestra pit before the stage couldnt play their instruments for laughing and making raucous catcalls



NO



        thiswasntcomfortableatall




0043,  Sunday,  23  8. 15
0238,  Sunday,  23  8. 15

6.9.15



It occurred to him this morning 
                                                   while reading how thousands of WPA artworks were bundled up by the government
cut out of their wood frames and sold at auction for four cents a pound

                                                   that he rarely placed his speakers in an attitude of weather or within hard detailed loci

they didnt throw shadows
stand in wind
sweat under heat

his dialogue or rhetoric didnt require a crucible of weather  not aridness humidity warmth or cold

he didnt say Edward Bulwer-Lyttons infamous it was a dark and stormy night or it was a chilly morning at the piers along Long Island any more than he would have affixed the parasite of date or year


the human condition only requires being human
 
either now before or in the future


maybe Neanderthals werent loquacious
                                                                                            
perhaps posthuman humans wouldnt be loquacious either


yet they were and would be
succinctly human beings despite the weather or circumstances they found or will find themselves in

they communicate  to talk  debate  challenge  argue  agree  disagree     that is what is important

thats what he sought to affect  channel

weather and surroundings seemed to him as window dressings  not psychological settings

there was no functional difference between a carved wood spoon and a fine-wrought silver one 



during college he befriended a gentleman bum who carried an heirloom silver knife fork and spoon ate from dented cans thrown away cardboard food containers in a rude alleyway near the veterans hospital in Miami

evening time its swarming life was sparked and lit by the neon lights undulating from the faces of businesses which peering into its maw from across the street


what businesses or the colors   he couldnt say

the liquor the bum preferred   he could

Rose  his wife  who left him while he served in Vietnam   he could say

that he was fucked up and morally bereft and wanted desperately to end every disagreement by killing whoever disagreed with him   he could say

that he carried his badly beaten body to the Emergency Room  robbed of his silver   he could say

he couldnt say what the temperature was that night
what the air smelled like
or now  the weight of the old mans body across his shoulders
                                                                                                      he couldnt say


the doctor said he died




he still had a hard time saying



         

0900,  Twosday,  1  9. 15
1354,  Twosday,  1  9. 15