RUDIMENTS, pt. 140
Making Cars
This part of New Jersey, out
by Carteret, and all the refineries
and turnpike and oil-storage tanks
is pretty much considered a mess.
Even though it's a hop, skip, and
a jump to NYC from here, or by
train or bus, a regular drive there
can still take a long time if traffic
goes bad. Which pretty much just
allows you to sit there and absorb
the scenery. Most people don't,
and just grumble instead, or go
right to their phones now and all
that crap. No matter. The trouble
is there's so much missed by doing
that. People always end up deploring
this section of New Jersey, mostly
for the reasons I just outlined. They
make fun of the turnpike slicing
through the swamps, the flames
from the fractioning towers at the
various refineries (burn-off of
excess gases), the airport, the
traffic, the roar. Yes, all well and
good, and it deserves a bump on
the head too, BUT think of the
other side of this. The real, people,
part of New Jersey isn't like that.
It's rather just a mundane, peaceful
enough, and well-kept enough
string of little homes, spread out
over little lawns and little yards.
Nothing spectacularly pretty, but
functional and adequate. I guess
some people just want more than
that. The thing is, that's why all
you see from the NJTurnpike is
all the messy stuff. It was built
there so as not to disrupt so much
these other places. Actually, a
wiser choice than running it
through the middle of any
of these spank-towns just
so drivers would have better
stuff to see. No one cares
anyway. It's a good decision;
and besides, when I ride out
across Pennsylvania or any
of those north/south interstate
things, I don't make fun of
where I am because all I see
are food plazas, truck stops,
broken up farmland, and
derelict old barns and things.
The entire country has pretty
much been allowed to turn to
garbage and junk, via the
automobile - so what do
you want? Any 'shopkeeper'
or 'merchant' I ever knew
may talk big and high and
mighty about their locus, but
they'd give their eye-teeth
and probably their underclothes
too if there was anything they
could do to get you to drive
to their shop, store, or place
of ratty business. Let no
one kid you.
-
The problem is, people 'project'.
They project their disgruntlement
about themselves and their
situations, and things, onto
other items and subjects, like
I've just described : carping
about the NJTurnpike, say,
and any of the clowns who
would stupidly deign to live
along it. If I told anyone there
was a FREE Giants game or
something, in the meadowlands
stadium, they'd jump like holy
hell to get along any turnpike
or highway to get there. All
of a sudden none of that would
matter. I guess that's just
the way Man is.
-
All through my life I've found
the way to the opposite of 'bragging'
is just to let other people have their
chance to tell you something about
their own self. Give a listen. Just
keep quiet. If people would sometimes
just keep quiet there would so many
better chances for gleaning good
information and insight. Like the
whole 'sitting' in traffic thing and
just looking around you. It's quite
meditative, a spectacular moment.
Stillness and not much need. Take
it in, artistically, intellectually
rendering all of what you see into
a weave of the moment experienced.
The funny thing is, in school, all
while you are growing up, the entire
emphasis is put on noise, and not
quiet - dumb pep rallies, group
efforts, clubs and guilds and, even,
cliques. They're supposedly, or
they claim to be, (funny word
they use) 'socializing' you so
you'll better work thorough and
fit into the world later on. I never
understood that. If they'd just let
up on all that crap and left people
alone, it would be a lot better all
around.
-
I found myself projecting a lot too;
far be it from me to say the margarine
I spread is a guilt-free product. I'm
as ready to accede to demand as the
next person but - I figure - at
least I know where I stand with my
likes and not-likes. What I do like
is to be vocal about my non-likes.
How's that for a switcheroo?
When I was back in my seminary
days, even though a lot of my time
really was spent in quiet and the
silence of a form of contemplation,
they too were guilty of that same
form of communitarian junk: even
worse there, because it had a basis
in the Christian premise of life and
being and living for others. And
besides that, it was 1963, and the
Hootenany years were upon us.
Yep, you got that right - we were
herded into outdoor, guitar-led
kumbaya folk-song-fests, as if
we were pickers or weavers in
the field. I don't know whose
idea any of this was - nor ever
why I had to dragged along in
their stupidity (as it were) - but
I suppose it seemed a natural
thing. On the other hand, having
a group of males sitting around
singing to each other is actually
about as natural as a monkey in
a pawnshop. Whatever. No one
ever said the seminary produced
deep thinkers.
-
So if I drive up and down these
endless highways, I do it for
myself and for fun. The end of
the gasoline age will just about
kill me, though I'll surely be
dead by then anyway. I take
my greatest pleasure in just
tooling along, even better with
someone in the seat next to me,
and a dog behind, and anyone
else too. Just to go is all what
makes sense to me; you can
keep the rest. It's pretty perverse
though - they build a country,
destroy the landscape for roads
and highways, put every creek
and roadside brook they can find
into a culvert or a ditch, and then
you're supposed to use the roads
to go places to appreciate the
landscape and the scenic beauty.
It all sure sounds like imprecise
thinking to me. And then, next
step to servitude, they set you
all up with this stuff, so that
you hardly even have a choice,
and then they run the fuel prices
sky-high on you so you're stuck
anyway. Going nowhere, fast.
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