8780. THINGS ARE DIFFERENT NOW, Pt. 216

216. ILLUMINATION
Inside, the library was

timeless. As if it just did

not exist. No clocks, no

limits. Again, the nowadays

factor kills all that because

every minor computer or

link-up device runs a clock

or some sort along its screen

base. That kind of immediately

puts a collar around all things;

draws one back in from whatever

other port of call might have

beckoned. In 1967 there were

yet old men, usually in dark suits

and almost office-dressed, who'd

be milling around, often with a

paperbag, with a sandwich or

something in it. These were

'gents', with some learning, not

the usual paper-bag booze types

with their Thunderbird or Night

Train Express bottle in a bag.

Anyway, in a marble palace

such as this was, how lowdown

can one really be? A bad spirit

just wouldn't 'bring' one in there.

It wasn't the sort of place bums

needed. Not in 1967 anyway.

These guys would read, stare

about, sit still, bother no one.

I guessed they were just using

up time, or trying to. That's

another thing I notice now  - 

how all that atmospheric 

stuff has disappeared  -  old, 

bedraggled men in serious 

clothes, old fedora hats and 

black,leather shoes, the

slower shuffle. Along with 

the gray, the darkness, and 

the Automats, wherein people

also sat about, that's what I 

remember, and miss. It

wasn't until the mid/late

1970's that people began 

wearing jeans and the sort

of 'informal'clothing we take

for granted now. And then it

all just fell apart  -  got worse  -

sweat suits, cargo pants, 

shorts, sneakers. That's all

'new world' stuff, believe

you me. Like the fluff food

I mentioned yesterday. In

these old days, the world

was, yes, frankly, quite 

different, and I was glad

for that. There was nothing

garish; in fact, most things 

were sad, and serious. There

was still a lot of hurt and

anguish in the world  -  leftover

remnants of the last War, ruins

could still be easily seen in

places of Europe and the old

cities there. The scarred and

ruined men, they were still 

shuffling around. It's funny 

to mention, because it's just 

today, this very day  -  but I 

read an article which, if seen

in the light of what I'm talking

about, simple infuriated me 

with its shallow, modern-day 

bad thinking, as if a perfect

example of the current, book-

store type issue societal ethos

that has ruined  everything. 

I guess it's never occurred to

anyone how we've been taken 

over by this thinking. It said

that today's conclusion about

all the old men of the past,

the hobos and bums I make

mention of, was different from 
the old conclusion, which was
wrong, and is seen differently
now; that for the most part each 

of those men who ended up with

broken and miserable Bowery

lives, street bums, drunks, were

all suffering that fate because 

they'd denied their sexuality.

That denial of their homosexual

urges and impulses had done

that to them. 'Because they 

had not come to terms with 

their repressed homosexuality.'

Boy, that really burned my ass.

-

If they only knew, these 

foragers for style, these gay 

blades designing clothes for 

women while trying to be 

them too. What a mess; and

how sad it all is for me, seeing

it in my terms  -  remembering 

the long marble hallways, all 

those library-collection rooms 

of the special-collections and

research-intensive rooms. 

Egypt studies. Ancient and 

Medieval philosophy 

collections. Art and history 

rooms. All those ancient and 

hung lightings on the great 

marble walls and stairways.

These old men and old women,

trying to fit their lives around

their unfitting present day. 

And all today's punk homos,

gay jerks and jerkettes, tuning

everything into the frequencies 

of their own, sickening 

perversities. To my mind,

it was bad enough society 

gave way to let them in, 

quite frankly, and now 

they're trying to rewrite 

history as well.
-
For, you see, I was not so much
troubled by the changing of the 
truth as I was by the complete
believe that such changing of the
present could then affect, as well,
the past. The past is story and 
background to the present.
If that becomes changeable,
malleable by the present
so as to then 'affect' the past,
then nothing solid is left and
all life has little value, and
whoever it is who controls the
present then, as well controls
the past. That is the
unsettling factor.

-

I've got to move on, simply

because they don't know what

they're talking about. Anger 
does not always make for a 
good writing style. This

time and place was my own

time and place, and no dark 

light will be let into the

illuminated room in which 

I dwell. It's pretty much that

simple. The hangings on my

walls are timeless, and they

do not change. The sconces 

and the lamps throw a generous

and steady, and serious light;

one that does not change 

brightness to suit the 

prevailing whims.