03/05/2016 – Coffee House Saturday 7:00 AM
Happy Birthday! Years ago having been pushed forth into physical reality. And taken through its steps all the way to the present.Yet, now in a similar sense of same, once more again. Luckier before to have loving arms awaiting me. Now only the inevitability of departure to the unknown realm where all my anonymous forebears reside. But as I look at the layers of life in different vintages of those young, I do not feel envy. I am on my way somewhere? A very well-traveled path. Yet in the eyes of a toddler I can recall that sense of wonder and excitement that once was mine. Perhaps why my father felt so all alone? How selfish are the young to not take into the account the feelings of the generation that spawned them!
03/12/2016 – Coffee House Saturday 7:00 AM
I am always amazed at how bad reporting generally is. The kernel is that people will believe what they want to! Not necessarily what transpires in from of their eyes. My God! My Jewish friend is ‘pussy-whipped‘ baby in a sling style. The other daddy opposite him with the perambulator, rocks. He’s too busy being dad. The music format he past seems to want to summon dead Hippies. Delving into the ‘B’ tracks of half a century ago. A man and his son. The father young enough to still be innocent to enjoy the rite of pleasing his with some donuts.
In 1968, I was in Europe while it exploded. More appear to strut fashion guidelines conforming to the pseudo style of Retro. Their clan rejects my generation. Uncomfortable to talk to. A strange culture of ‘White‘ that wants to roll up the red carper behind them as they go on.
The parents shower their infant offspring with their eternal fascination where other cultures might have imagined what outcomes might be. The baby’s banana soon replaced by a sugar bun. And God created sweets! The lifetime of addiction commences.
03/19/2016 – Coffee House Saturday 7:00 AM
Physical death and release. Momento Mori. The wold as constructed cannot speak more than the memories that are collectively built within it. Action. Reaction. Caught from morning to midnight. What is the best method to engage? To play the part to the hilt? Or remain observantly removed?
03/26/2016 – Coffee House Saturday 7:00 AM
Helen showed up inexplicably in my dream? “What are you doing here in Costa Rica!?!” She rode off on horses with her friend Mary.
Underneath every young ingenue is a shriveled potato headed grandma waiting for her time to be recognized. The talk ranch sat half-fiction in the morning Sun. Awaiting their choices. Maybe the clothes of the brain is undeterred like a disc drive? The jumbled fragmentary events unwound. Maybe the chaos of the brain? The jumbled sectors rearranged from fragmentary events. Are the aches and pains unwound. Maybe the living turned dead hop from lifetime to lifetime like porpoises? When the world that you once knew collapses down around you, its members fade away. then that former awareness becomes an arcane, well-regarded, secret.
The transfiguration from innocent youth to its battered aged equivalent. So many small charms preserved but now sugar-coated in armor plate of hard won survival. Now I see all the frailties of the other side of mother to only child. The totality encapsulated in so many shortcomings. And so much ceaseless effort. All of which comes from that mysterious bond of creation that engenders undying love. The avoidance of the dangerous mystery of my mother’s red rubber vaginal cleaner bag hanging mute on the shower stall. A mental stand-in for the uterus. When you’re an only child you need your fantasies to keep you safe.
I will always wonder why we have to tremble at the demands of the ‘enfant terrible‘ minorities in a nation supposedly built upon the will of the majority?
The circus museum at Sarasota where I stayed overnight. The gravity of their loss and the lost opportunities remain incalculable.
04/02/2016 – Coffee House Saturday 7:00 AM
Woke up with a reasonably decent head. So this is how Don Draper feels the morning after? After!?! After what’s changed since childhood? Still in a fantasy world of cartoon characters and feelings they evoke. Caught up in at the impossibility of of a lexicon of tailor made emotions from the plotting of others. Now my existence is not my own. Simply a patchwork of episodes that stuck more than others. The times in-between are empty. A picture of discontent. The official base measurements of life. I wince every time I think of what I put my parents through!
The frog dissection at Old Orchard Jr. High. Strings of grasshoppers. The National Enquirer with the title, “I Cut Off Her Head And Stomped On It.” A plastic balloon flour covering. The ‘fight‘ with Shelly and a punch in the nose friendship. Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs on a flatbed trailer playing outside of the store.
For those whose physical circumstances will never meet the expectations of popular cliches, “Too Poor!” “Too Fat!” “Too, too, too!” The doyens of Rock and Roll are all about and grayed resembling your grandparents.
04/16/2016 – Coffee House Saturday 7:00 AM
New York in three days. I know how Ray Milland felt with his X-Ray eyes. Too observant for my generation. Motivation failure dealing with the gravity of Jupiter. Changing the bugle call. Wonder at the range of life experience. Changing the number of rotations of the dynamo. Do these habits reveal membership in a detestable creed?
A thousand pairs of dusty boots treading up the slow winding incline on the back of the snake. The amazing flea circus of the .303.
A plastic society where so many stretch forth to fit within the mold of a fickle Utopia. No sympathy for the downfall of tyrants and their folly. The foe must stand up to their new person. In this way history is never true. I watch my fellow humanity like a bird expert. What is after all the psychic dimension of music. A convenient carrier for pleasant emotions? I’ve had no charity in my soul during this life. A cold barren furnace devoid of warmth. The infant’s blue eyed pensive gaze taking in the world with a basic sense of apprehension. And pondering it all the same.