ALL OF AGEMEMNON
POPPING
I lost the figurative mountain, the volcano drew me
away, the kings and queens of the charter-house
left everything vacant. Pizza slabs, thrown like
shingles the day after, were chucked along the
curb at 14th street. Why anyone would even think;
drunks and cowboys again. This city draws its
own crazy crowd - the Saturday night warriors
with guns and ale in their heads mounting the
markers in Union Square. Some old girls
deign to applaud - it seems that's all
anyone was asking.
-
Ace the marmalade and squash it in your jacket.
The old guy in the flannel shirt tells me his 'secret'
to life (who'd want it? he's got it?) is keeping
two fresh double-A batteries in your pocket at
all times. 'Something,' he says, 'something about
the energy from the batteries being close to your
blood; it zones everything up and keeps you in
tune. But they gotta' be fresh, all the time fresh.'
-
I love advice like that - stuff you can't figure out
but which deadly people believe, even if it drives
them batty to say it. Everyone's crazy in the end;
every vision and every version too. 'The whole
world's a mad Zionist trick.' Yep, the same
guy told me that as well.
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