Sunday, December 25, 2016


A few things, along
the way, popped up, 
as items to be
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 
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 
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. 
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, 
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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