Fort Campbell Kentucky

he only knew of it because his father was stationed their during the Korean War he had two skillsets the military became interested in other than he was conscripted a warm body

he had a steadfast skill for clerical work organisation time study  and he volunteered to be a paratrooper 

nobody did things faster than his old man once he analysed and determined what were needless steps Waste. he said  Time’s a wasting!                                                                                                                              his old man meant it

paratroopers werent utilised during the Korean campaign                                                                                                                               his old man knew that  and thats why he volunteered to become a paratrooper  he analysed that and determined its uselessness  its needlessness

his old man was a sharp cookie

he was nobodys fool

nobody  except for his mother                                                                                                                              head over heels fool 

but when someone falls in love they should be head over heels  otherwise  dont waste your time  pay for a clandestine fuck out of the neighbourhood so nobodys the wiser 

he could imagine then as now there were lots of wisenheimers who would want to play around in anothers life for no other reason than they could cause them grief with innuendo gossip anif that didnt cut it malicious lies  some kind of perverted satisfaction  it gave them something to do  they were precursors to the end-of-century reality television shows  precursors to Shit television  Crap cable 

he quit watching television at their advent

he recognised he couldnt buy into their extentions that sudden spat of social media My Space book of Face dazzling breathtaking shit which imagined influencers or talking heads could seduce audiences 

he realised that they were talking out of their ass FOX  then with their text  then with commentators  asif hed fall for their lines that hed buy into were they informing himHA he didnt need anyone to tell him what he just heard or read  these clowns certainly didnt fit into his old mans scheme of efficiency his old man saw to it that redundancy was decapitated naturally it was reasonably and intellectually the first thing to be disposed   A  Waste  of  Time  

 

Joe, you remember Canary Barbecue on Carrol Avenue where meat turned on spits in the front window to bring you in.

No Dad  believe that was before my time

Ah, yes, yes, correct, you were probably just a baby last time we went; but I took your Mom there on a couple dates before I was drafted.

After Donny Bohrisch Jimmy Goodman introduced you to her at the company picnic yah

Yes. She was in an art class with them at Tuley. Chicago Printed String Company. Papa Vogl’s enterprise, or rather I should say Charlie Weiner’s enterprise too. I worked at the Western Avenue facility, you’re mother worked at Logan Boulevard, Logan Square. The Company threw picnics for employees. If you worked for them they treated you to a summer picnic and a Christmas Gala.

They were Jewish right

Yes, virtually all their employees were gentiles though, at least those who worked on the floor or in the lunchrooms. They treated us very well, and we didn’t ever want to disappoint them. Everyone worked hard. No one took anything for granted. Everyone benefitted.

 

 

the reason why he called and brought up Fort Campbell was because he wanted to be sure his Dad still had the little porcelain skunk figurine kept inside in a wood cage he mailed his Maw while they were courting

since she had died a lot of things were leaving his fathers house and he wanted to be sure no onehis siblings had liberated things they shouldnt have

Shit his sister took his parents wedding album                                                                                                                              Take it back

He told me I could have it.

I could give a fuck Take it back When hes dead you can have it Wha are you thinkin

I asked him and he said I could have it.

You asked Why would you fuckin ask him to have his wedding album Ya ever hear of elder abuse Take it back When I come to visit he doesnt have it Ill come see youya don want me comin to see you about his wedding albumChrist awmighty wha are you thinkin 

 

I sure do, it’s on my highboy. his father kept it on his highboy for as long as he could remember he had a long memory Ain’t never gonna lose track of it. I mailed it to your Mom from Missouri, bought it in a dimestore in a small town outside Camp Crowder when Gene, Mr. Sands, Gene and I were there to escort prisoners back to Fort Campbell.

Your mother was my My Li’l Stinker, as the label on the top of the cage says.

She still is now and forever

Thank you for saying so, son.

Of course Dad                                                                                                                              Its the little things isnt it

Yes it is. Thank you for reviving some memories I might not have returned to without you asking.

Yare welcome I promise to be a thorn in your paw the burr under your saddle

The pea under my mattress?

Lets not get ridiculous

 

1412,  Saturday,  6  3. 21

2304,  Monday – Ides of March,  15  3. 21

 

What is this . . thing . you have for black people?

Thing  a thing for black people

You seem to take what happens to them personally.

Whahappens to them  Im not followin ya 

I heard Black Lives Matter out of your mouth before I’d heard it publicized on cable or in print.

Yahwell  thats because yare maudlinterribly slow on the uptake I didnt coin it

But you knew it!

Yaknow it 

           Except ya dont take it to heart which excuse me all to hell for saying so  isnt a surprise Yare pretty full of yourself buddy Fullup to yare eyeballs fullup with your entitlement  Ya think white male entitlement doesnt apply to you its meant for some other divine smuck born with a silver spoon stuck in his mouth 

                                                                                           Im saying yacould choose to be more tolerant yacould spend your considerable disposal income otherwise annot just on yourself your family

I dont come from disposable income

I come from coupons from shredding bars of Ivory soap to wash clothes because it was less expensive than boxed detergent hung clothes on clotheslines to dry because it was less expensive than a machine and the electricity to run it

We ate organmeat because it was less expensive

We grew a garden because our vegetables cost less than buying them from the grocer

I hustled the neighbourhood for yardwork shoveled snow was a paperboy got educated by two of the best newspapers in the country for free 

An . . Ill admit my blackness my empathy for blacks was informed by my mother who because my Dad didnt like going to the movies took me as a little boy to see Sidney Poitier see Raisin in the Sun  Lilies of the Field  In the Heat of the Night 

      My Maw took me to films no kids my age where seeing 

She got me an adult library card for the Public Library and I read books no kids my age were reading

he laughed 

           the laughter veered towards hysterical then wound down to a pathetic chuckle an a Fuck 

Fuck me

         I suppose I was entitled too

I read Hughes and Toomer and Baldwin as I read London Orwell and Hemingway I particularly suffered Richard Wrights poem Between the World and Me Have you read it

I don’t read poetry.

Yadon read poetry

No. There’s nothing in it for me.

he couldnt say the things that were ricocheting around in his skull they were vile just in his thinking without uttering themgivin them oxygenheard his mother If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

he rarely took her advice

he wore scars for not

he didnt minded owning them 

Ill tell ya wha Im gonna email it to youyaread it It aint singsongy it don rhyme Ya read it  Next time I see ya later this week were talkin bout it 

An since the vast majority lynched were black lynched by white mobs trophies taken by white men  Own yer race

Me and mine never lynched a black man.

You and yours white

                       Yahave

Four hundred years man  Four hundred years 

                                                  An Ill also lay at your feet the white mans extermination of First People Because they wanted what what the First People lived on and their White race was affirmed by God to be superior  Indians are subhuman Negroes black and brown and yellow are subhuman

Whashit  If that don grab ya by the balls nothing will 

Read the poem Own yer race When yadon speak outwhen yadon act yare as guilty as those who did and who still want to do the deeds

Theyre sick muthafuckers

 

1018,  Sunday,  14  3. 21

1333,  Monday – Ides of March,  15  3. 21

Richard Wright  Between the World and Me

And one morning while in the woods I stumbled
    suddenly upon the thing,
Stumbled upon it in a grassy clearing guarded by scaly
    oaks and elms
And the sooty details of the scene rose, thrusting
    themselves between the world and me....

There was a design of white bones slumbering forgottenly
    upon a cushion of ashes.
There was a charred stump of a sapling pointing a blunt
    finger accusingly at the sky.
There were torn tree limbs, tiny veins of burnt leaves, and
    a scorched coil of greasy hemp;
A vacant shoe, an empty tie, a ripped shirt, a lonely hat,
    and a pair of trousers stiff with black blood.
And upon the trampled grass were buttons, dead matches,
    butt-ends of cigars and cigarettes, peanut shells, a
    drained gin-flask, and a whore's lipstick;
Scattered traces of tar, restless arrays of feathers, and the
    lingering smell of gasoline.
And through the morning air the sun poured yellow
    surprise into the eye sockets of the stony skull....

And while I stood my mind was frozen within cold pity
    for the life that was gone.
The ground gripped my feet and my heart was circled by
    icy walls of fear--
The sun died in the sky; a night wind muttered in the
    grass and fumbled the leaves in the trees; the woods
    poured forth the hungry yelping of hounds; the
    darkness screamed with thirsty voices; and the witnesses rose and lived:
The dry bones stirred, rattled, lifted, melting themselves
    into my bones.
The grey ashes formed flesh firm and black, entering into
    my flesh.

The gin-flask passed from mouth to mouth, cigars and
    cigarettes glowed, the whore smeared lipstick red
    upon her lips,
And a thousand faces swirled around me, clamoring that
    my life be burned....

And then they had me, stripped me, battering my teeth
    into my throat till I swallowed my own blood.
My voice was drowned in the roar of their voices, and my
    black wet body slipped and rolled in their hands as
    they bound me to the sapling.
And my skin clung to the bubbling hot tar, falling from
    me in limp patches.
And the down and quills of the white feathers sank into
    my raw flesh, and I moaned in my agony.
Then my blood was cooled mercifully, cooled by a
    baptism of gasoline.
And in a blaze of red I leaped to the sky as pain rose like water, boiling my limbs
Panting, begging I clutched childlike, clutched to the hot

    sides of death.

Now I am dry bones and my face a stony skull staring in

     yellow surprise at the sun....

also the Hollywood Roundtable  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1u27coFlGXg

 

here comes Proust again dragging his knuckles across the sawdusted tavern floor 

he  wants  wine

for a goblet hed say something mundane   perhaps transcendent

Proust had always treated him kindly

he bought him wine

Proust didnt thank him likely he felt his utterance was enough

he cleared his throat looked him in the face  held up his glass as if toasting 

                                                                                 Style is a matter of vision, not technique. 

he took a sip  turned  walked away 

a poet or artist comes from their ability to FOWLIE retain the sensibility of a child 

not an invocation of childish innocence

rather a perpetual innocence towards Experience

to enter each wholly with a sense of curiosity

no memory of failures or retreats

a childish forgetfulness to help them live in the present 

Proustian vision 

                  he was happy to buy him wine

1406,  Saturday,  1  2. 92

1321 or 121,  Sunday,  14  3. 21

Eric Burdon & War  Spill the Wine  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6qcafgLHe4

 

the shit he stumbled into or rather whahe was predisposed to  that fascinated him  he needed bucketsa bucket brigade not the usual harried line of men slopping water hand to hand to put out a structure fire but a brigade in line to take his shit out he couldnt move he was distended 

                                              HELP 

                                                           if he could run it would be like running in one way and passing himself running in the opposite direction 

                                         and because he was politebecause pedestrians were few and far between hed be keen of their approachkeen of that timing to lift his head and acknowledge them say Hello say Good morning Good afternoon 

         only to find he was greeting himself

not that thatd distress him

hed been to carnivals

he walked in their House of Mirrors

why wouldnt a House of Mirrors present outside on side streets church parking lots the barkers hucksters erstwhile sham artists

its human nature 

                   To dupe or not to dupe thats the question

 

he was all warmedheated up hed read about the Sixth Century BC when science philosophy and religion were not separate 

         Right On! Hallelujah! 

                                he read about the sages of Ionia who founded the Milesian School who called themselves hylozoists those who think matter is alive they saw no distinction between the animate and inanimate  matter and spirit 

      wouldnt get an argument from him he was a hylozoist GAWDBLESSYA himself they saw all forms of existence as manifestations of physis all endowed with life and spirituality

Thales declared all things full of gods

Anaximander saw the universe as a kind of organism which was supportednurtured by pneuma a cosmic breath in the same manner that the human body was supportednurtured by air

Heraclitus of Ephesus believed the world was in perpetual changeflux eternally becoming his principle or symbol was fire continuous flowchange of all things and those changes arose from dynamic cyclic interplay of opposites pairs of opposites were a unity  and this Unity containing and transcending all opposing forces he called Logos

 

6th Century BC more than two millennia earlier 

                                                    Fuck if he wasnt a hylozoist

Nice to finally find his identity 

                                Evenif it sounded like a sneeze

 

2154,  Thursday,  30  1. 92

1239,  Sunday,  14  3. 21

 

his dreams of recent had been epic

every time he took up pen and paper to wriote they knocked them out of his hands You’re not here to observe, record, you’re here to participate! they grabbed him roughly by the neck and pitched him headlong into the meleeheadlong into the muck

returning to consciousness from those end-on-end scrums those twin-bills triple-bills convoluted intertwined montages palimpsests he felt fortunate that he emerged there were suddensnapshots glimmerings  but nothing episodic he retained   nothing he could bring back 

he left it all on the floor

he closed his eyes again trying to return to sleep to only sleep deaf dumb and blind he felt the toe of a boot in his ribs  he played dead 

                 he scavenged an hour or two of senseless sleep 

he didnt feel put-upon 

                      he was grateful

grateful his interior life was as interested in him as he was in his exterior life and it

he wouldnt say friends

he if his dreams insisted friends would resist hed mouth Acquaintances  Fondly acquaintances 

                                                                                                      more than half the acts or scenarios he found himself in were violent friends didnt invest in violence 

                                                                                 which isnt to say that either in dreams or in life he did not participate in violence to have a friends back 

                                                                just he didnt go looking for violence 

he would admit however 

                          to go looking for sex In an Out

Out he couldnt compete with the lavish sex In 

                                                antobesure In he was all-in No pensNo paperWholly committed 

Hmm  he had to give his dreams credit

they were right

he ought to participate  yet try hard to be mindful and come away with memory      

1313,  Sunday,  14  3. 21

Shadowfax  The Big Song  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=diiqxPpSoAs

I am risking my life for it and my reason has half floundered because of it – that’s all right. 

                                                                                                Vincent van Gogh revealing his dedication to his art in his last unfinished letter to his brother Theo 

a replied was tendered by Henry Miller while he lived in Big Sur We’re obliged to save ourselves – there will be no world figure; no great teacher to teach us self-reliancy.

later Miller wrote I sit on a rock and think. Or I think I am thinking. 

                                                                      that was up his alleycorresponded with his selfstyled persona  then when he was done thinking he penned that which occurred to him  penned  only because he couldnt paintcouldnt express with brushes what was in his guts on canvas 

                                                                       with pen and paper he was at home words were his paints oils acrylics 

 

Jung wrote Proceed from the dream outward . . . 

                                                    a dream is ideas and images in the mind NOT UNDER COMMAND OF REASON . . 

            Fuckin right No authority  None

Jung neurosis is caused by attempts to separate the physical and the metaphysical, to set them in opposition to each other . . . but they can be united through religion or art.

No Through Art not religion Nix religion reason over faith 

he read their writingsread their letters 

                                         he believed dreaming was indispensable

the self his self  

                  Jung defined as a virtual point between conscious and unconscious which gives equal recognition to both . . .

 

when asked why he painted a couch in the middle of the jungle Rousseau answered  We have a right to paint our dreams. 

Rilke the Bohemian-Austrian poet feared psychoanalysis he didnt want to be cured of poetry 

he remembered Rilke for that quotethis quote The only journey is the one within. 

                                                                                          the one within

 

 

standing at a window looking out he didnt recognise the groundsthe landscape beyond not the silver river the treeline to either of its sides not the river plain where pure black cows fed on freshgreen grass 

he hadnt a clue where he was supposed to be  where they were 

his girl was with him 

something clicked in his mind she selected the hotel hed forgotten her reason why

when he finally turned from the window pleasantly confused he smiled widely at her commotion that drew his attention from the outdoors he watched her bouncing up and down naked on their bed but it was their bedroom at home their sheets pillows covers except not the earthencolourful designs they enjoyed rather they were pure white like clouds

bouncinglaughing like a child she was uninhibited happy  gleeful 

                                                                       she sputteredstammered she had a joke to share with him Wait! Just a moment. 

                                 she bound off the bed to the bluecarpeted floor effortlessly

they had a suite

she ran into the livingroom

he heard her open the door that lead into the hallway

he leaned back and looked

her head was at the door

she talked with someone 

                           then turningleaving the door she cried Shut it behind you when you’re in! and dashed back into the bedroom past him

three businessmen in suits entered

they were loosening their ties taking their jackets off  

they left their jackets in the livingroom on separate chairs

they walked towards the bedroom rolling up their tailored white longsleeved shirts

they walked expectantly  predatorily

they hadnt imagined him to be standing just inside the bedrooms threshold 

                                                                              Hey boys

she laughed then she laughed hysterically she had wrapped a light white cotton blanket loosely provocatively around herself 

       Hiya, boys. she slurred it appeared like she wanted to say something beyond that but the words caughtshe sputteredstammered again and rather than emotingenunciating words tears welled up in her eyes they dribbled down her cheeks leaving shiningsilver tracks like the river outside  

                                                                the tears fell on her scarcely covered breasts thighs 

then she punctuated the air This is hilarious! 

he laughed with herhe laughed at the disgruntled businessmen 

                                                                  Disturbed boys not what you were expectinganticipating huh You did see the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door Yah 

turning back to her she had dropped onto her fanny and was pulled from the bedside table something Ah three swollen prophylactic  

            stuffed with something 

                                     they looked like sausages which tickled hermade her laugh as her tears continued to fall from her eyes 

businessmen didnt think she was funny 

                                           but things fallflat when disappointment enters the equation he thought Come on get real Whaclowns A naked woman appearing in a door asking you to come in That don happen to youse  Happens to menot youse 

finally her tears stoppedthe laughter stopped 

                                                she smiles delighted  she humoured herself

she looks at him tears cling to her cheeks still the fade of runlets apparent she dropped the blanket to her hips she sat barebreasted 

             Ah captured the businessmens attention theyre rapt they look on her expectantly  eagerly 

                                                                                                                Cocktease thas my girl 

she giggled barely able to hold the three rubbers in her hand

with her other hand no longer paying attention to anyone using her thumbnail she splits to top of one rubber the wound yawned it splitdown its entire length exposing a swollen sea sponge  

she giggled a bit more 

                       dropped the exposedclad sponge then split the second as she had the first a second sopping sponge dropped it  the third was in kind she sustained her soft giggle the three wet sea sponges laid in her lap

she giggled 

the businessmen were bewildered unhappy  unsatisfied  teased by her nakedness which she suddenly stoletook back tookaway  she covered herself

seeing their displeasure she stilled her giggling and looked hard om each mans face one by one then without looking away from them she squeezed the sponges one by one squeezed them dry their humour spillingsoaking into the blanket across her thighs

then carelessly she flipped them over her shoulder onto the bluecarpeted floor

 

he didnt understandthough it struck him funny  he laughed out loud

she held out her hand to him

he crossed to her and took it

kneeling on the bed he leaned over to her took her face in his hands disturbed the soft fade of tears on her cheeksher eyelids with his thumbs and kissed her deeply

she quieted smiled in a worn tired way a smile of relief   a smile of power

she laid back

he laid on top of her

he kissed her deeply againlooked deeply into her eyes 

it didnt feel like the businessmen were there anymore 

                                                            (One’s) unconsciousness contains a larger and specially a more authentic or accurate part of their being  Wallace Fowlie

 

1640,  Monday,  27  1. 92

1559,  Saturday,  13  3. 21

Fiona Apple  Heavy Balloons  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8whTAkkBv6U

 

         he liked to play with words  changeup spellings run them together like a trainwreck  see whahappened 

see through untamedeyes

brute utter bruteutter  the second made him think of bruisedbutter 

                                                                        Joe his grandmother said careful at the churn, you don’t want to bruise the butter. was that possible must be or she wouldntve said

 

braisedbeets

bruisedbutter

bruteutter

mysticmutter

                     mischief 

havin some fun  playin

aint no mischief in that 

                          What mischief are you getting into now, laddie?  Mr Carter

Mr Carter his middleschool English English teacher understood him better than most  maybe he saw a bit of himself in him 

      laddie 

by the end of eighthgrade he knew himself better as laddie than Joe  Mr Carter breathing down his neck 

                                                                                                             not without reason  without reason would have been harrassment yes 2 Rs 

                                                                    lets say he was prone to leaving doors open so opportunity had to come up step into the threshold to rap them with hard knuckles

Mr Carter probably understoodsaw he was a throwback 

                                                           that he wasnt going forth into a black night without a torch or a compelling reason 

                   not into creeping slouching technologies that he felt would pull people apart like stickytaffy only the few preferred would elude being cooked and stretched and mangled

 

laddie  not faranaway from Luddite

                                      which honorifically he was                                                              

he argued for horses over electrical cars Whahappens when batteries are spent Whahappened when nuclear rods were spent

But you don’t like horses.

Its not a matter of liking Im unfamiliar unfamiliar because I didnt grown up around them I appreciate their biology their strength

I prefer horses pulling wagons running on open ground green grass watered and fed to sterile scabs of concrete and tarmac that lace and twine and choke the earth 

a lazy Ludditeladdie loungesrelaxes on an old lavendercoloured Adirondack laced and latticed with greenshade ivorypale lichen in a late summersun 

                                                        just playin

  

0835,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  3  3. 21

0954,  Thursday,  11  3. 21

Elton John  Madman Across the Water  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nq4J_n6vMYo