Sunday, September 9, 2012

It’s Not What You Think



Fall Is On the Way to the Upper Mid-West (Mt Gilead Ohio)

The last day of August. The Labor Day campers will be crowding in today, along with the heat – We’re heading for a high of 93 today with sunny skies. My Kindle just broke. You were a friend while you lasted. I think I shall buy an IPad.

Grape vines are this region’s kudzu. It is rare that they bear fruit. Goldenrod blooms. Gee, it’s already afternoon. Let’s go back to camp grandma.. When we’re hungry, grandma replies. It’s nice out here by the lake. No X-Boxes or Gameboys, she says. He say’s, Grandma,  I’m hungry. This lake stinks. It’s full of weeds. The dog and I had tramped across the disc golf course and were standing at the end of the fishing pier.  There were several dozen small perch swimming about. A light breeze blows. It feels like autumn.

By the same logic neo-liberals use to justify their desire to privatize the post-office and ignore the constitutional clause (Art I Sec 8) making it a federal responsibility, mainly that it has out-served its utility; an argument could be made for banning hand guns in that a well regulated militia no longer exits (outserved its utility). Liberals defend the Constitution because they have noting by nostaligia left to defend.

The Spider knew it – words lifted from Charles Bukowski

A big sack of subnormal manure
And what came forth as speech
From a hideous and crippled mine

Almost everybody is born a genius
            And buried an idiot
As a party it seemed to lack a center,
            But most parties are that way

And almost anything
Upsets and insults a movie audience,
While people who read novels
And short stories love them
            And are rarely upset or insulted
By them

And I could not formulate it.
It hung in my head like a bible.
What shit, nonsense....
What a way to be strung out,
No map,
No people,
No sound,
Just wasps, stones, walls,
My pecker and balls dangling without feeling.

I could scream out anything in the street
And nobody would hear,
Nobody would care a tit,
Not that they should.

I wasn’t asking for love,
But something was very odd,
The books never spoke about it,
The parents never spoke about it.
The spider knew it.
            Fuck off

And I left not much later
Looking for more trouble
Or whatever I was looking for.
            I always found trouble...
But the rest of what I was looking for,
            I haven’t found that yet.
Maybe I never will.

You’ve got your book of philosophy,
Your priest,
Your preacher,
Your scientist,
So don’t ask me.

Pure, serendipitous travel is a solitary vice. Going with a companion is cozy, but you might as well be going on a bus excursion. The martial parliament has to sit in order to debate and settle the issue of lunch – Jonathan Raban – Driving Home, 2010   p157

Celebrities are cultural models of which there are two kinds – top down (heros and spokesmen) and bottom-up (antiheros and criminals)

The privileges (including private property) that goes with service to the state and to the society are legitimate only so long as the actions associated with those services are perceived as having utility.

You Lose the Fear – Roberto Bolano

‘No-man’s-land’,
There are simply no men here
            There are other creatures: animals and insects

A love brief as the sigh of a guillotined head
Brief like beauty,
            Absolute beauty

It doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything
A store is a place where people converse
Listen in silence to the conversation of others

A store is like an empty classroom.
A sign of sloven lives
Where the glass is glazed with mescal

A store is a smoky church
And then one of them opened the bottle
The tequila was a naked woman in a fur coat

The nectar of the gods
The same ones from before
They started to forget themselves

Descend into the sewers
Never speak of the subject again.
It doesn’t matter

The Time To Settle Down Will Never Come
Bravery and its twin stupidity
I didn’t have the balls
            To call the police
The police, is always the police

Don’t go near her
She’s a MOTHER.
Then I thought about graves
About fucking on a grave
About sleep in a grave

He showed me a photo of her.
She wasn’t especially pretty.
Her face betrayed sufferings
And under that suffering
            Simmering rage.
I imagined her eating sliced bread and a bowl of green soup

I drifted off.
My life proceeded
            Along the drabbest course
            I did everything
            I did whatever I could

I try to be pleasant and sociable.
Life does a fine job on its own
I wake. I am sweating. I try not to fall asleep again.
I am certain that there’s someone else in the room

Nothing happened today.
And if anything did, I’d rather not talk about it
Because I didn’t understand it

Outside people were walking fast,
             Hunched over
As if the storm were already here.
Still, no one seemed to be afraid

She tasted of cigarettes and expensive food.
I tasted of cigarettes and cheap food.
The heart of the matter is knowing if evil is random.

The shouting came from downstairs
The kind that strikes you dumb and makes history
There’s a time for reciting poems and a time for fists

Work passed over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude…
Finally the work journeys invariably alone in the Great Vastness.
And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end

You lose the fear, or, build it into your daily routine

Nothing is obvious that it is obvious – Errol Morris – Believing is Seeing, 2011 p8

Both the Left and the Right have found a common enemy – Crony Capitalism

Out of the corner of the eye while perusing a page of text, sometimes geometric figures appear running down or obliquely across the page. Mostly they are composed of an alignment of white spaces but occasionally it is the black marks that line up. When a closer inspection is made of these figures just disappear. You gotta see out of the corner of your eye. That’s the best way to see something moving.

Educational requirements create empowerment niches and diminish career flexibility. An inability to compete in a diminishing niche leads to marginality for which the only solution is more education (at the labor’s expense of course). Diminished opportunities create anxieties and hinder solidarity (the pursuit of common solutions). It all empowers capital and margializes labor. Someone makes money. Everyone else goes into debt.

Mist on the lake
A man on a boat
            Emerging
Fishing
They are jumping
Little ones hide
            In the weeds
Near shore

What must inspire the artist is the desire to render himself soporiferous

Foggy and wet – can’t even see across the Maumee. We went for a walk along the tow patch of the river by-pass connecting the lakes with the Ohio valley. Gulls sit on the low dam, herons and egrets fish. Washington’s general Anthony Wayne beat the Indians at Fallen Timbers here at the head of Black Swamp. The company providing the Johnnies on the spot have taken the name “Black Swamp”.

Photographs attract false beliefs the way flypaper attracts flies… Vision is privileged in our society and our sensorium. We trust it; we place our confidence in it. Photography allows us to uncritically think. We ‘imagine’ that photographs provide a magic path to the truth – Errol Morris – Believing is Seeing, 2011 p92

The total area paved over (impervious surface area is the technical term – paved roads, buildings and other man made hard surfaces) in the United States is equal to an areas the size of Ohio. Some day it will be equal to the size of Texas (if we don’t run out of hydrocarbons first). Without hydrobarbons there will be no gasoline taxes to pay for impervious surfaces.

I couldn’t find any beer. It’s a dry county. There are lots of dry counties in the South. It’s all about maintaining social order. Southern hospitality is not really as genteel as it seems. It’s a means of prying into your affairs to find out if you’re a potential threat. It’s all a legacy of that peculiar institution. There are a few private clubs. They make all the money, Ed maintains. They don’t want things to change. The waitress at Sorby’s was telling about the city councilmen who upon learning that Walmart was planning building a new Supercenter went out and bought up all the logical locations. Wal-Mart didn’t bite. They had gotten too greedy. I had been wondering why Wal-Mart wasn’t on the highway. I forget to ask Ed about the lavender paint on the tree trunks. He did say that the splashing in the water last night was not his dog but beavers. Have you heard any coyotes, he asks me? I heard what I thought was some locals running hounds upstream last night, I told him. No those were coyotes, he said. The Ozarks in spring – blue birds, japonica and fields of verbena. The hills seem to get hazy as their trees begin to bud. Good ol’ boys. Weeklong long bears. Beer bellies and baseball caps. The women are all fat. A cubby little brats says, ‘Mommey eat, all gone’. And the waiteress says, ‘You’re just the cutest little darling I’ve ever seen. You’re just cuter than heck. You like kissin girls?’ Headed for the Interstate a truck load of chickens on the way to Tyson. Out for a ride, country air. Things aren’t always what they seem. If fact they are rarely what they seem.

In reality, scientific theories are not ‘derived’ f rom anything… They are guesses – bold conjectures – David Deutsch – The Beginning of Infinity, 2011 p4

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Jennifer Retrieved her Towel form her Brother, Gregor. She got Dressed. She put on a Nurse’s Uniform. Sometimes she Sressed as a Cheerleader even down to the Pom-Poms. She did not like Leather although she didn’t object to donning an SS Uniform





Dappling green – the sun high enough to penetrate down to the forest floor - obliquely. Wind rustling the leaves high overhead – seventy five to a hundred feet skywards. Crows calling to each other. Its too early for kids to be riding their bikes. A truck drives by. The neighbor left at sun up. I wasn’t up but the dog was. The trees fork – four or five tines – at two-thirds their height, then fork again and again like the stalks of broccoli. A red squirrel is clambering down head first.  A big buck is standing in a clearing. It darts back into the brush. The breeze in blowing warm or at least verging on warm. It will be getting  hot soon. The sun will be shining down from overhead soon. The night’s moisture will be getting sucked into the atmosphere. I am having my breakfast. I’m attempting a Ruskin word picture here. How am I doing? The wind is rustling the leaves and the sun is climbing. A car alarm is beeping. The dog is lying in my chair (black on black) and is scratching himself. When he scratches in the trailer his paw thumps against the floor and resonates – thump thump thump thump, thump thump thump. Woodpeckers are working at extracting their breakfasts. The first of todays kids are peddling arround the campground on their bikes, around and around.  They will be at it all day. The leaves are rustling, My dear Alabanda.

As an alternative to failure, man is presented with death

Age with age
            Is different
            Is difference
It’s not what it was
It’s not what it is
It’s not what it will be

There is already a yellowing of the leaves at the tops of the trees. It wasn’t noticeable yesterday. It rained last night. Maybe some of the green chlorophyll got rinsed out. It seem early for the leaves to be turning. Does it have anything to do with the heat and the drought of this summer? The rain has cleansed the atmphereos and there is a fragrance of blossoms in the air.

It remains dreary, occasionally it rains. Black squirrels chatter halfway up the trunks of tall tree trunks, safely out of harm’s way ready to race up into the crowns.

The rain pounds
Shostakovich echoes
A funk descends
Thank you very much
All day and most of the night
If you must

It rains. It rained all night. The family campers all head home.  Ping, ping, ping. Its not fun anymore. Everyone is sleepy. This is Michigan.

Leave me alone. I’ll snap and I’ll bite. I swear that I will. I’m curled up and I am napping. It’s raining. I am passing the time. I’m asleep. Fine scratch my head, but do it some other time. I’m warning you. No leave me alone. I’ve got one eye open and on you. Don’t you dare try. Let me sleep. It a dreary day. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to go for a walk. Come back and get me when the sun comes out.

I have to renew my insurance. I was having a dream and I awoke and remembered that I needed to renew by auto insurance. It has something to do with the dream. It made sense at the time. I lay there and recalled the dream and the connection between it and my insurance. It was not a logical connection and the path was overgrown with weeds but it could be followed and it took me right to the auto insurance. I went back and retraced my steps several times. Yes, I would remember and write it down in the morning. No, I didn’t have to get up and write it down now. I repeated the scenario one more time to make sure. When I woke up I remembered that I needed to renew my insurance and that there was some connection with a dream that I had. I rememered that I thought that I could remember it. It was the dream that reminded me that my insurance was due. I got out my proof of insurance. It was due to expire in two days. I had put it on my to-do list back in June and hadn’t thought about it since. I can’t remember what the dream was about now,  but I did remember that I had had a dream and the dream reminded me that my insurance was due. I called by agent and got it renewed. E-mail me the proof of insurance as I’m not be where I can get regular mail.

Her witchy presence waits / for me to jump into her arms, but – then she’s just / an incoherent ache in sleep’s freaked senses – W S Di Piero – Nitro Nights, 2011p43

Engel’s Law: the poorer people are the higher the proportion of their incomes they will spend on food

Many Years Have Passed – Marcel Proust

The effulgence of his name was dampered by the stone upon his grave.
In the deafness of the eternal sleep he was not importuned by glory
The memory, not yet of the place in which he was, but of various other places he had lived
And might now very possibly be, came like a rope let down from heaven

He had lost all sense of the place in which he had gone to sleep
What one suffers oneself one knows; that is nothing
But we learn noting from any lesson
We have not the wisdom to work backwards

And when he awoke he did not know where he was
The memory of a particular image is but regret for a particular moment
But then, even in the most insignificant details of our daily life
None of us can be said to constitute a material whole

He could not be sure at first who he was
Draw me up out of the abyss of not-being
He could not escape by himself
Identity could not be simply be turned up like a page in an account-book
Or is created by the thoughts of other people

We pack the physical outline of the creature we see
With all the ideas we have already formed about him
Madmen compel themselves to exclude all other thoughts from their minds
But yet the sickness of uncertainty sweeps over them again

Many years have passed.
Anguish lay in knowing there is some place of enjoyment
Where oneself is not and cannot go

The dog and I took our walk down by the lake. We came back by the equestrian trail making a loop of it. We found a connector even though none had been designated. It is overcast. Maple trees have overrun abandoned apple and cherry orchards. There were no cherries this year due to early warming and a late frost.  Green wormy apples litter the ground.

Do you really think, if you cannot think otherwise?

I came down out of the hills into town to do my laundry and re-provision. I have already been to the ATM and am now having  my breakfast – a short stack with sausage and coffee. The trees are turning a tinge of green (budding out). Gardens have been tilled. Every lawn has at least one tree with white blossoms. I see tulip magnolia in bloom. There is a small lavender flower that blooms on lawns and fields and looks something like clover.  Boys will soon be out swinging bats and shagging flies.

I get directions to the laundromat, to Price Chopper and to the Wal-Mart. I’m better at giving directions, she tells me, than at fallowing them. And you are good at drawing maps, I tell her. I can do much better, she says, this one is a little scrunched up. I’m at the laundromat. I’ve gotten everything but the beer. That’s next. I can’t get any beer. This county is dry, I am told. When I get back Beast (Ed’s big dog) is trashing about in Long Pool next to my tent.

Ah, how unnecessary

I don’t say that things have gotten worse,
Merely that they say that the young
Wouldn’t notice if they had
That would have let in too much reality,
Let in the present tense
The future pluperfect

And maybe everyone will have
            Had their own private name for it,
So that would mean that no
Common name was required

‘That’s what Bill use to say’.
 Bill never said anything of the kind,
As far as anyone could be remember,
            Except for you
But his posthumous corroboration
Was useful when she was flustered

Afterwards,
Getting what you want
All the time
Is very close to
Not getting what you want
At any time

Blame someone else,
That’s always the your first instinct.
And if you can’t blame someone else,
Then start claiming the problem
            Is their problem, not yous.
Rewrite the rules.
Shift the goal posts

Ah, how unnecessary

Travel is a kind  of delinquency, more often rooted in the compulsion to escape then it is in any serious desire to scale the Great Pyramid of Cheops – Jonathan Raban – Driving Home, 2010 p155