278. DEVIL BE DAMNED
A few things, along
the way, popped up,
as items to be
remembered.
What's a life if it's
not remembered?
Does that even count?
Treacherous or not,
oftentimes what we
do is exactly what
we live - the same
ways and the same
approaches to
everything. It gets
so tiring. I knew I
had to stay away from
that sort of 'routining'
of my own life.
Devil be damned.
-
Whatever it is here I'm
attempting to say (yes,
yes, there's really a
kernel of something
waiting to break out),
it goes for the present
day too. I've not watched
TV, I mean this - any
TV, in any way, shape, or
or form, in about 4 years
now. I can faithfully attest
to you that - motel rooms,
other people's homes, bars.
restaurants, even waiting
rooms - there may
have been TV's foolishly
and obtrusively placed,
but I didn't watch. Not
even at the Princeton
Post Office which,
stupidly, used to have
one blaring up above
the sight-line of all
those chumps forced
to wait in long, slow
lines. There's nothing
worse, by the way,
than having 'Authority'
- in this case the
government/postal
authority - assuming
that they can just jam
this crap down your
throat in the course
of your doing a regular
day's activity. I always
considered it to be 'them'
waging psychological
warfare. It's bad enough
to have to withstand the
very-often-slow theatrics
of the postal service, let
alone have had this added
to it, and in a supposedly
'enlightened' community
as they always proclaimed
themselves to be - although
that too now has been
proven to be a lie when
one has to watch all the
squealing and screaming
about the sensibilities of all
those soft-ass 'intellectual'
liberals there, holding
their ears at what they
wish not to hear. It's
like an academic
concentration-camp,
just don't concentrate
on it. But, anyway,
that's university talk.
-
Also funny, in the
Norman Rockwell,
Amercana, sense of
things, is all that
hidebound stamping
and sticking that goes
on at the Post Office.
It's probably the
very last bastion
in our lives of
the 'way things
used to be.' Lines.
Everything
hand-processed,
separated, stamped,
inspected, contents
reviewed, etc. Totally
archaic, but it sums
up somehow too a
rare sense of
American 'place'
and being. All
quickly fading
now. The clerks
are, for the most
part, usually slow
and plodding, not
'American' in the
old-line sense of
Euro-based immigration.
It's all seeming to be
given over and ceded
now to other, later
groups, this service
industry stuff : Asians,
South Asians, etc. Hard
to pin. And no matter, as
hideous it gets - lines,
slowness, procedure -
people still profess to
'love' it as some real form
of that 'America' we
'lost' some time ago.
Just the other day, finally,
someone spoke up; it
was a curious scenario
- the clerk-lady goes
over everything about
his package with some
guy, 'fill this form out,
and this,' on multi-part
sheets, etc. She sends
him over to the
side-table to do it.
When he's done,
a little flustered,
she allows him to
break back into
line so they can
take up where
they left of. She
goes to her computer
screen, starts the new
file, and beings asking
him (for the computer
input) the very same
questions he's just
filled out. He loses
it! 'You mean to
tell me now I have
to stand here while
you ask me through
these same forms I
just filled out?' She
says, 'Yes, sir for the
computer'. The guy
almost had to be
restrained from
vaulting over
the counter. Now
THAT'S Americana.
-
Anyway, what I'm
saying, in the TV stuff
anyway, is how 'removal'
makes all the difference.
Once you're no longer
a 'part' of the mad,
TV-type life, as
portrayed, hawked,
and presented, you
slowly realize that
you don't NEED it.
That nothing of
any of that is of
any real value except
for noise and cacophony,
and that there's no need
at all to allow that
constant stream of
disgusting idiocy into
your mind. It's a
question of dignity,
or dignity over the
'self' anyway. This
is my life, and I'm
going to take control
of it and select what
goes in and what
stays out. No one
does that anymore.
Another thing no
one does, apparently,
is ever reach that
realization - that
it's all an imposition
that none of us need.
I don't watch a thing,
and I've never missed
a thing. Now when
I have to sit around
someone's house
- typically a
family or holiday
gathering - the
damn thing is on
at wall-level,
constantly and in
front of everyone.
The presence of it,
for me, obliterates
everything, makes
me nervous, and
detracts 110% from
any reasoning or
continuance of
my staying there.
I find it offensive
and coarse. No
one else does,
apparently, and
bullocks to them.
they can have it.
-
When I got to NYC,
there weren't any
televisions - not
one of the people
in my small circles
even gave a thought
to it - none of the
crash-pad hippie dives,
mattress-floored
sleep-anywhere's
and with whomever
you chose, places
had one. No one
stressed-out over
finding and getting
one, or having it
installed, or any of
that nervous crap
that goes on now
- the cable guy,
the Internet connection,
471 channels in 19
languages and two
naked-sports channels
besides. Frankly
anyway, back then
it was Huntley and
Brinkley and Walter
Cronkite and that
ilk who reported
everything anyway,
with maybe a gay-fab
Joe Franklin movie-starlet
report and any of those
dumb-ass gossip
columnists. It was
junk from day one.
Over at the Hell's
Angels place, there
wasn't any TV
presence, not even
security cameras. We
all lived in silence,
together, and well -
accepting the world
around us, not as a
facsimile of something
in order to sell ass-wipes.
batteries or garden hose
supplements. Our reality
was right there, over there,
outside that door. It's a
sad shame how things
have turned out.
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