LIFE IN THE TRENCHES: Romance, Rebellion and Running Amok

COLD BEER AND LIME WHILE FOLKS DROP LIKE ANVILS

a very nice lady with a little something about her said a couple weeks ago that what’s going on right now with the anvil dropping ripping holes in a lot of folks pockets is worse than that time back then when everyone took gainers. she said that the situation is worse now than back then but the world is different and there are a lot of ways people can know that other people have holes in their pocket too.

i think for some this is a consolation that they aren’t the only ones that bought the proverbial farm and there is validity in what she said. contact, in any way – be it tertiary or even further helps. it does. to know that whatever you are feeling goes beyond your skin, that’s burning and makes friends with the air that is humid and brings me to this moment where i smell like a Parisian tomato and am drinking cold beer with lime.

i have to tell you that i don’t like feeling meek. i have to tell you that i don’t like catching up with the rest of the world, be it within the four walls of my kingdom – which seems to wander everywhere.

right now my scars are extra red and swollen but the beer has gotten cold enough so that i don’t need anymore g.d. ice. i hate to admit it but this is the most important thing happening right now. even more than saving the world.

i think its strange that i can drink cold beer with lime and not feel the way i feel when i get within thirty winks of other loaded memories. i guess with the proper motivation a person can get around anything. justified. but justification has nothing to do with it. its an afterthought. something that occurs to you in the moment that makes you pause for a second and wonder – why this and not the other stuff.

another nice lady was talking to me tonight saying that this situation is in fact, worse than the other situation. she’s the one that told me people were taking leaps. it was in the news.

our conversation continued as i was stomping around my place, trying to get rid of the smell coming from the sink that i’ve neglected because i’ve been running so hard to fulfill the challenges of the universe.

i pulled the sheets off my bed because the cat pissed on them. i have clean sheets in the cupboard. my lamp is broken and my room is dark when i get home. i think, i should really put some sheets on the mattress in the moment but go to bed shortly thereafter. then morning comes . . . and i forget.

anyway, the nice lady i was talking to tonight brought up that time and how it was good for the music and the alcoholics and prohibition and what not. how people were able to rage against the anvil and let it rip all quixotic.

i like that era. although, i’m not sure if the dates match up – my memory about the specifics of history and the through line that strings it together to bring significance to a thing like suicide and speak easies, but i feel that this aspect of a human being’s ability to get to the brass tacks of decadence and the wealth of a stolen moment amongst strangers and friends can be like the humidity escaping a person’s skin and the kingdom can come into focus and new thought and jumps in everything can come from the war.

cold beer and lime doesn’t seem like an aberration. even if they take gainers and go kersplat in spite of the mechanisms of today like the way a person can know that the polar ice caps are melting – even if they have never been there. time lapse photography can do wonders for the soul. but i’ve got to tell you that i am having to steal my moments, to write it down and i’m not sure if it has any value but i have to take it. with no concern for anything other than what’s happening right now.

nevertheless, it strikes me.

what i want to say is that there are things that match up and things that don’t. and i don’t think any of my dreams, hopes and compulsions have any less significance to what’s going on with the rest of the world. which may make me a prick – but if i’m honest with myself the most powerful feeling in me is that i miss my sister, my heart aches for a friend who lost a couple of folks in the last few days – unrelated to the anvil – and i don’t give a shit about loading up the bank account so that its so fat that i could convince somebody i was the one responsible for the lollipop. but i do care about the success of my loved ones. i want to take care of my loved ones. but i don’t want to have to wait to go to cuba or any other wonderful of the same but difference of the through line of variety.

as people flip the switch of here or not here, i wonder. why some things matter. why some things don’t. why the line is drawn in the sand for some things and why i can buy cold beer and lime without much thought about anything other than a slight shrug and pause.

i wouldn’t assume to have the answers about that one – but its good to know its there and this is what’s happening right now.

i wish somebody, anybody was here with me to be something more than company. but its better this way. what does this feeling have to do with anything in lieu of the shadow of the tuesday that has come after monday? its more than company. its more than company. its more than company. it really is.

in summation, i would like to offer this quote by desmond tutu.  he says: 

 “i am not interested in picking up crumbs of compassion thrown from the table of someone who considers himself my master. i want the full menu of rights.”

which i don’t know what has anything to do with anything except for that i discovered it today and that it followed me home. 

and its humid. 

WHILE THEY TOOK EVERYTHING.

WHILE THEY TOOK EVERYTHING. I have eyes. I understand it. Teachers are not to be Followed. Or they cease to be teachers. I heard them coming.

2012, SCREW THE MAYANS AND THEIR G.D. CALENDER

don't really know what to say other than that its nice when you settle in but know that it has nothing to do with pace.  pace lacks imagination.  pace is a toll collector.  a timetable.  a little freaking zygote spitting slime at you demanding attention.  the weather.  i keep talking about the weather.  its one of the weaker metaphors that a guy can go to, but its pretty good too.  for me, it reminds me of something idle and disinterested, ping ponged between two people who have no real invested interest in save the lady's of everest and the gods who make eunuchs out of aries.  we like meat and the wine to drink it with, right?  to me, that's a good reason to pay attention to shit like that.  otherwise, its a filter that sucks the self out of everything. i don't know what i'm trying to say.  all i know is that there are times when i feel like something is never going to end or the thing that has ended has gone on for too long but these things pass.  they really do.  and if the satellites are blaring my friend or two out there and this is the type of thing that sinks in there, like a wink from someone sitting across the bus from you or someone who witnesses (as the whole world misses) you at war with the shoelace keeping together your shoe - then this is my wink and nod.  i send it your direction.  and if we were in a bar i'd notice the way you made sure that the dollar that hit the bar after the agreement was fulfilled and you would know that i was watching.  because sometimes, these things matter.  but sometimes, not so much.  depends on where you are coming from.  relax.  take it easy.  stop that shit.  you don't have to do anything.  but you are.  and you will.  i guess this is more for me than you.  but anyone who knows anything about anything knows that already.  and it almost kills me to say it right here, but i'll say it.  i love you.  stand your ground.  you owe nothing to nobody.  especially to that fucking moonpie staring down at you - stirring the natives, gunning for your blood.   

THE THINGS NOT GOTTEN AND GETTING GOTTEN

it is my belief that the best muse never knows it.

the most significant things happen privately. 
the most inspiring of notions and brightest
of ideas usually do. 

i believe that the greatest achievements
to have come out of anyone is the result of
not being able to get what they wanted
while refusing to be meek when faced
with the impenetrable. 

obstacles are the flagship of heart and want.

the loss is not mine.  the loss is not yours. 
in a glimpse it comes

at worst it rolls on

like the ever elusive peanutberry

or the way
you are born again
in a pair of black
patent leather
shoes. 

THE ROGUE ELEVATOR

with a little room to breathe i see that it is well within
my capabilities to figure things out and make
my piece of it.

now, i’m wondering about happiness.  i am able to
see and let it enter, feel it and let it go – all feelings
but i feel like i’m underwater.

depression – i don’t even want to acknowledge it.
but its there.  right beneath the surface.  one second
away from getting to the place where i fall into
the don’t give a shits. 

that’s the only thing i’m going to say about that.
the sign says, “don’t feed the animals.” 

i don’t want to talk about what i’m going to do
or voice the resolutions.  the great proclamations.
the promises of self for others’ benefit. 

it is time to do.  i do but the rogue elevator does
its thing.  at time it pays no heed to my finger
and my fingers are blind in search of the
love button. 

but now, i’ll speak what i want.  for the record.
so that i can come back to it.  so that i can master
the memory. 

and the rogue elevator that seems to make a fuss
when all is well and new life is in sight – dead man
walking – a hand of love that guides me – a voice
that has an infinite number of tonalities – the
lullaby, the coach, the whip, the inquisition,
the orator, the kung fu movies of my youth,
the pen, the fright, the sigh, the choir, the
sermon, the father, the future, the guru,
the compass, the electricity that runs up
and down my spine, the wall, the nothing,
the rambling, the sprawling, the pyramids,
the domesticated dog, the ape, the reptile,
the hard on, the song, the hero, nina simone,
the god of war, the great, fate, the knot,
the soft shoe, the switchblade, the sugar
in the spoon, the agoraphobic, the hypnotist,
the flower, the road, the boxcar, the
biplane, the solace, the cathedral,
the sight, the eye, the ear, the
bluff, the blind, the brightest,
the bully, the scorned, the
wraith, the eternal,
the king, the village idiot
and the streetlamp, the
windmill, the liar,
the naïf, the louella,
the document
the needle that skips
the gavel, the witch,
the kindling,
the forest fire.

smoking cigarettes in bed
i get naked, turn off the
lights and light a candle
in the moment in
fear of nothing.

empty to let it in.
ready.  willing. 
able. 

what is so complicated about
this?

that.