Latest real-time notes. We are out of money, beer and wine but there is some cheese left and some dubious Church food bank food that as it generally goes, is rife with manufacturing defects on the packaging. In terms of food, I wonder what this portends, especially if they are failed GMO commodities which I suspect is the case. I offered to volunteer there once for free in exchange for the free food, and they didn't want me. They said I had to be a part of their church. Well, like the Maid Marion says in Robin Hood featuring Russel Crowe, I prefer my churches to be quiet. I do. It is better to sit on old wooden pews in silence to face both the grim and the awesome instead of listening to some corrupt preacher run his mouth so that his parishoners will be charitable.
This is, unlike my poetry, real stuff. I think I am sick of writing poems. From now on I will just keep an observational journal on my blog, patched in with science fiction stories and the odd poetic verse from time to time. If you read this, hey, expect some sort of change. No more wallowing in darkened poetic hallways. More minor news bulletins, happenings around the town with the slant of one reporter instead of the slant of a news corporation.
Today I was quite sick of life until I stumbled across an old friend's blog. There was something spiritual there that I don't want to investigate because I am sick of examinations, but I was thankful for it. Somebody cares about something. That at this point is favorable news to me.
War is breaking out all over the world again, all those hideous doomsday weapons concealed. I wonder if people think of those. I would speak my peace but I still have fear, if only because I have a sensible body and slightly askew mind that even then is sensitive to slander and people's ugly words.
I walk around town sometimes when I am bored with writing and I can't get up the money through a complicated interpersonal loan system for a beer. If the beer is there I can usually chat and smile and pretend, and well the other night I danced to the Rolling Stones on Youtube and then to Brody Dalle. As far as I am concerned in my private thoughts, Brody Dalle probably deserves to be royalty in heaven. I saw her perform when she was in the Distillers years back when I was just coming bravely out of high school, at a club in Orange County called the Glasshouse. There were a lot of pretenders there. Young kids interested only in drugs who dressed up in punk rock gear since it was a fad. Some of my punk mentality made it from that time to today, so yes, I am thankful for Brody Dalle and her recent musical releases. Not just something to listen to for me, but with a dirty history of being a scene that sold out for flash in the pan glamour at the time. Not her. I wish some of those punk acts had more promenance, especially the ones from the late seventies. Admittedly, some of them were dumb. I never thought for instance that Black Flag sported much of a message, but I was supposed to like them because they were from my home town and I was into punk as a non for profit activist and writer. So much for those dreams.
I am trying to reconcile fear. It comes with depression, and it's not a mental issue, its really based in serious and fleeting observations I've had through the course of my rather brief life. It seems that people in a small town could be nicer, especially to the ones they run into on a daily basis. I'm beginning to see things more clearly though. Spots of beauty are nice, even old rainwater on sideview car mirrors reflecting the sun as white film. Fear won't settle the issue though. A lot of this has to do with humanity and where we've come to as a species. Unfortunately I am left with the conclusion that as a species humanity is either a failure, or secretly arrived from off planet to meet with conditions it couldn't grapple with biologically or mentally, hence the explanation of it being a war-like species. These are mundane and slightly grim charts. I wonder who else besides me can bother to care.
Like I said we are out of wine. A bottle would be nice, all that warmth in the mountain air while a strange hurricane devastates Mexico from the Pacific seaboard. It's hard to be funny anymore with the Ukraine situation, ISIS, Africa, and other unsettled problems. August was the hottest month in the history of ever, its official. No wonder I spent so much time like a sick dog on the deck of a sailboat as the heat sweltered in nauseating flue recently. But otherwise.
I want to rekindle respect, and trenchant forgiveness. As adults, most of us as lived and seen things we wish we hadn't. The enormity of grappling with this while there is a generation trying to rise beneath us is a bit unsettling. How can we even speak to children of terror? But do we expect them to carry on through this as we did, groping blindly? I don't know, maybe yours is a different story.
But if you are good and kind and brave, then welcome, maybe you cared about beauty and love as I did and still do, on the outs with society and cowardly labeled a menace here and there for doing little but singing. There were a lot of fights in the past. For those I am sorry. I don't know anymore who's fault all the world's fighting and struggling is but it has to stop for the greater good. We really need to remove a lot of awful inventions from this planet before we are going to get anywhere on the peace and justice front, which is all I meekly have to say right now.
I used to write short excerpts. I understood that people don't have the time. Sometimes we do. In that case, cheers, nothing needs to be written down except for extended messages of hope. I am wary about classifying the times. Things swing up and around, not at all, or down into hell. Hopefully one day we can sort this all out.
No comments:
Post a Comment