Friday, January 13, 2017


I guess that's how
I always figured it.
Expandable walls
too. Things busting
out all over. It's a
bit like when you
reach into your
pocket to pull
something out,
and other things
come tumbling
out too and fall
to the floor, a
dollar or a fiver
or something, 
unknown to
you, and 
someone else 
sees it and 
then bends 
over and 
retrieves it - 
and that person 
then has your 
overflow  -  to do 
with it what he or 
she will do. It's 
no longer yours. 
Largesse. I 
think that's 
what they call
it. At that point 
it's got no 
ownership, no 
different than 
a landscape 
or a sight of 
anything for 
the taking. 
My life was 
like that, and 
I made sure 
it was.
In between 
places, the 
rest of it all 
was like a 
waking and 
then a sleeping 
again with 
heavy dreams 
except I 
always tell 
the difference 
or which took 
or which 
was rightfully 
real or not. 
They seemed 
to switch places. 
They seemed 
to leave me, 
as well, hanging 
between the 
two. Poles 
of opposite, 
or whatever. 
I ended up 
having not 
so much faith 
in the 'tangible' 
aspects of either  
-  of course one 
had no tangible 
aspects at all, 
or at least this
supposed 'real' 
world of water 
and ice and 
pain and hurt 
and happiness 
as said. That's 
how it presented 
itself  -  like a 
fat, brat kid in 
some grade 
school class 
screaming and 
farting and 
hollering that 
he comes first, 
takes precedence, 
and all, just 
because he's 
there and because, 
that morning, 
his mother had 
brought in 
that tray of 
Those kinds 
of runts got 
all the breaks.
One of things 
about living, 
about learning 
to grow up  -  
or they always 
said anyway  -  
was to know 
about your 
own limits 
and what not 
to go past. 
Don't get 
me wrong, 
I wasn't ever 
up to like 
running off 
to marry Queen 
Elizabeth's daughter  
-  if she had one. 
I don't think 
somehow any 
of those royal 
people ever 
have female 
hmmm, on 
that one. That
was always 
suspicious to 
me, that 
stuff. It never 
spoke of 
anything except 
pure rot; just 
another reason 
for me to not 
get involved 
with this stupid, 
world around 
me. One day this 
is up, the next 
day it's down, 
and something 
else runs to the 
top. Like a game 
of 'Chiggedy-Whats' 
or something (I 
just made that up). 
Life was just a 
sideboard of 
idiocy, filled 
with wants 
and needs. I 
always wished 
to chuck 'em 
all and just 
walk away. 
One of the 
I have (this is 
a bit weird, 
but I'm going 
to run with it 
anyway) is 
of the false 
parity that
was presented 
to us, as kids, 
early on. 
was supposed 
to be the same, 
share the same 
qualities and 
values and all  
-  and  they dump 
you, at age 10, 
into some Summer's 
Boy Scout camp 
(Camp Cowaw, 
in this case), 
where what 
you get is about 
12 or 15 naked 
10 year olds, 
all standing 
about in an 
enforced comraderie, 
naked, and all 
brushing their 
teeth too, under 
a group, outdoor, 
thing behind 
some half-ass 
constructed wall. 
What it all goes 
to show you 
essentially is 
that there are 
different people 
doing different 
things always. 
Nobody apparently 
gave two hoots 
over the situation, 
but it went on 
in its own way  
-  it always 
seemed without 
reason to me. 
No one is equal
to anyone else,
even if the silly
merit badges are all
the same when
distributed around.
Why does everyone 
always have to 
be within the 
company of 
others? I was, 
in a few years, 
much more 
learning from 
Leibniz, about 
each man being 
a monad, a 
singular one, 
in a universe  
-  not of the 
many but of 
the ones. Much 
more comfortable 
to me, that was.
Remember Sartre,
it was, who said
'Hell is other people.'
I never did the 
equations, never 
got quite right 
the math. And 
in the longer 
run of things 
it didn't matter  
-  Ithaca, for 
example, held 
me a few years, 
5 maybe 6, and 
then it was over 
too. All memory. 
The place that 
I remember 
doesn't exist 
any more 
except in 
that memory 
-  which remains 
wide open and 
pliable and as 
much present 
as past. Who 
knows the 
difference, and 
what's the formula 
or the equation 
for that. 'X = NOW'. 
Period . The rest is 
bakery dough. I 
can close my 
eyes and still 
see  -  right where 
that old crazy 
gas station was,
on the corner, on 
the hill going down  
-  fairly treacherous 
turn and descent 
there, near to the 
main-gates' top 
but not. Fifty-seven 
cents a gallon. I 
can remember it 
perfectly  -  there 
was a little glass 
globe thing, I think 
it was Mobil gas, 
and whatever was 
inside that globe, 
once the gasoline 
started flowing 
from the pump, 
in that amber-color 
of gasoline, would 
start twirling around, 
the swoosh of the 
gasoline running 
by it. It was 
pretty cool  -  
never knew 
why it was there 
or how old it was. 
but, it always 
brought me back. 
I always had 
marginal cars 
and trucks. 
Up there, along 
those hills of 
Cornell, and 
Ithaca, you had 
to, or I had to, 
chock the wheels, 
or turn them 
when you parked 
so that if the 
emergency brake 
let go the car 
would just roll 
itself into the curb  
-  instead of running 
out to the street, and
probably down the 
hill too  -  and be 
stopped of its 
own momentum 
at that curb  -  
plus always
parking in first 
gear or second, 
or reverse, 
somehow always 
having a low 
gear engaged;
also to stop the 
car if it began 
running loose. 
You never knew. 
I don't remember 
any parking-meters 
either. Life was a
lot simpler.

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