I’m inside looking around – this is a clock escarpment, there
is the constant screeching, grinding of the gears.It’s not the same as
outside looking in – tick tock – it strikes three o’clock. Wind me up,
turn me loose. Nor is it the same as inside looking out – google eyes watching
the hands as they tick around the clock face, as they follow the cycle of dark
and light. A good observer will have seen everything while ignoring all
functionality. As if looking for the fist time. A good observer will become the clock. Gilbert
and me are up her in the Tea Cup mom. Oh, Beaver how did you get up there?
Being a Marxist in the 1930s, in certain circles at least,
was a bit like being a Darwinist in the 1880s : you had to put up some
pretty good reasons for not accepting anything so blindingly obvious. It’s just
that this is difficult to appreciate in the 1970s, where reasonable men tend an
interest in medieval gynecology – Terry Eagleton
Walk and profusely sweat
This pain in the knee is excruciating
The dog takes a pee
At every tree
And we have have to go
Four times a day
And just as often I have to get up
In the
middle of the night
I find business speak annoying; anything about turning a
profit or rationalizing a process whether it be flipping a house or
re-engineering the corporation. I used to be a participant, but now I’m on the
outside looking in, it all seems so utterly childish. Eddy says that most of
the time people use such jargon because it gives them power. Sort of like being
a medicine man, I ask? He goes back to reading his paper. This is good because
he has his own jargon and there is no power anywhere in any of it. And besides
when he finishes and leaves, I can grasp his discarded Chronicle. Unlike the
Journal there is no power in this paper. On the bus going to work I used to
notice the pink pages of people reading the Financial Times sort of like having a Pravda neatly folded and tucked into the right pocket of one’s brown leather
jacket, an emblem of one’s party membership. The symbol of power is power. Sort
of like a low-slung holstered 45. Better be fast if called on (actually it was
not how fast you were with it but how calm you were in its use – slow and
steady was always more deadly that a quick draw). Power is being cool in
situations of stress. I’m not impressed. None of them have any power over me.
But I’m still outwardly differential to authority – there’s no since taking a
chance. I still feel that what authority has ordained for me is right and
proper. I anxiously await to be informed as to what it is exactly they have
ordained. How will I be informed. Will I read it in the paper? Is it written in
the Bible? Will it be transmitted via a dental implant? Yours Truly, The
Beaver.
Sixteen tons ain’t much
To steam shovel
But you’re another day older
Anyhow
And the little train that could
Keeps on hauling it all away
I’m keen on women with big noses this morning. This is
something new. It’s my fantasy of the day. Not just any big nosed woman but tall
lanky ones. I check out all the women I see. One by one I scrutinize them –
eliminating the short ones and the chunky ones and the older ones. Then I look
at the noses of those that remain. Twice this morning I have sighed with
ectachy. As I enter the coffee shop, I sneeze. “God Bless You!” someone says.
It’s one of them. “Thanks”, I reply but I want to tell her much her nose means
to me. She goes back to writing in a notebook. She has her back to me now.
There are no more opportunities for any chance encounter. I still have my private reveries. And that is
probably better anyway because tomorrow I shall have some new fetish. I sit and
daydream. The morning goes by quickly. I keep my eyes open, watching all the
women passing by outside. Some days its redheads. Some days its tattoos. Eddy say
that I’m weird. He is one to be talking.
Did Larry’s mother really know Batman? Gosh Aunt Harriett!
Oh Robin, I declare! Well maybe. Both shows were in re-runs at the same time.
Can characters from different shows and in different eras be aware of each
other. It was not inconsistent with anything that the Beaver was knew. He
didn’t know everything. It might be
possible. He would really really like to meet Batman. Larry he thought get his
mother to introduce him. A visit by Batman to his class would be much better
having Ward tell about his boring job. That would shut Judy up. Miss Landers
would be impressed. Maybe he should ask Gus. Gus was very wise. Gus told him
all about the Purple Rose of Cairo. The Beaver had once brought Gus to class.
Being a fireman was exciting. Being a crime fighter was even more exciting. Why
was Robin called Batman’s Ward. They were nothing alike. He wished he were the
Boy Wonder.
Preferential parking ordinances proliferate mainly in
neighborhoods with three car garages – Mike Davis
Dirty dishes
A little bleach
Rinse water
Cut the grease
Stay fit
Avoid parasites
Shower, shave
And put on clean underwear
Tighty
whities reduce the sperm count
They
say
Live right
Be uptight
If you ask me, I’d tell ya
That’s
might white
Of
ya
Bo-log-na – I carefully attempted to pronounce the name –
BO-LOG-NA. I stared at the label again. Strange I’d never noticed that spelling
before. I’d always called it Baloney. When did they change the name? Bologna (I
pronounced it with a hard ‘g’) uh! I know it is a city in Italy. When did they
rename it that – the sausage not the city. I am aware that lots of food products
are named after their place of origin (Burgundy,, Cheddar, Swiss and
American cheese). I had never noticed the word “Bologna” before. It has Champaign always
been ‘Baloney” hasn’t it? I’m sure that I’d never seen it labeled Bologna before.
Had I just never paid any attention? Can I be than unobservant? I am not paranoid. I know no one had changed
all the labels just to confuse me. I had just take a toke. Going shopping was
not proving to have been a good idea. Stay home and listen to some music. Lay
down with head phones on and turn The Stone up loud. It’s normal to discover
strange new meanings in rock lyrics but not on grocery store labels. I wanted
to tell her all about it, but I knew it wouldn’t make any sense. It didn’t make
any sense to me. It didn’t have a
context. It didn’t related to anything else. I knew that much. She continued to
fill the cart. She asked me something. I sort of nodded my head. At the
check-out counter I was marveling at how all these things could be translated
into a single number. I swiped a piece of plastic and signed my name. Just like
magic. I was still able to function. I could do this much. I was still able to
perform tricks. Was I able to drive? She got in on the drivers side. I got in
on the passenger side. Live is
beautiful. Now all this stuff is ours. We could do with what we want. We got
home. I stared out the window. Is this our house. It’s a nice house. Could be
someone else’s house. She unpacked the groceries. I was ravenous. I wanted a fried
baloney sandwich with fried onions on a toasted sesame seed bun. She laughed
and told me to go and lie down while she put the stuff away. I was evidently in
her way. I could not get my mind off of BO-LOG-NA. God, it’s hard to get my
skull around this. When did they start calling it that. Honey, I’m starving, I
exclaimed. She brought be a bag of Bar-B-Que potato chips and a can of Bud. I
liked the way it popped when I pulled the tab. Watch it, it’s easy to cut
yourself on them. I lay back on the
sofa. She said, can you turn the music down. When I woke up it was getting
dark. On the TV Ed Sullivan was talking to a mouse.
Gertrude Stein supposedly passed out black-bordered calling
cards. On them was printed the single word “woe”. As she gaily handed them out
she would say, “Woe is me”
