RUDIMENTS, pt. 277
Making Cars
There was a time when various
people would ask - mostly the
high school types - 'what are
you interested in studying...?'
Meaning further education,
college and all. It was funny,
because the guidance types, no
matter what you said, and also
because it was their job - and
also because they were probably
somewhat on the take for a few
bucks here or there for each
reference - they always had a
ready answer. 'Oh, try St. John's,
with your grades and record,
you're a shoo-in.' Or somewhere
else, or somewhere else. It went
on. The very best kids would say,
'I'm very interested in Oceanography'
Or 'I want to go into Biological
Science.' Or, 'I want to go into
the military as a career,' or 'I
want to go into Civil Engineering.'
I just always said, 'Me? I want
to go into hiding.' Little did
anyone know how much I
meant what I said.
-
Another thing I immediately
noticed was the sort of 'romantic'
aspect of what these high-schoolers
would say. No one really knew
beans about what they were talking,
but it was all aspirational. Like
my friend Fred, a smart guy,he
wanted to be a lawyer and a
big time politician. He went at it
whole guns too - even faking a
purloined letter on some stolen
letterhead from a local lawyer
(later disbarred) with whom
he'd made some connection
and sending it off as a reference
letter to get some campaign
position with someone, even
faking a university situation
through which to do it. It was
the sort of normal thing these
kids did : wanting already to
'act' as if they'd attained the
position they had in their
dreams. And then I got to
thinking maybe that's what
it's really all about anyway -
much like now all that Joyce
Meyer quasi-religiosi prattle
of 'If you can think it, you
can do it.' I was never able to
construct a fantasy life like that,
and the boring one I had was
heavy and dead enough for me.
I had nowhere to go - except
out. I really did want to go into
'hiding.' And so I did.
-
Leaving no forwarding address
is always a good idea. It helps
cut all those ties that bind. Back
then I was pretty certain that I'd
speak to maybe ten more people
in my whole life. Now, some
50+ years later I realize I've
actually probably spoken to
ten thousand - and made some
sense too! By, that's a switch,
and how would I have ever
predicted that? What sensible
sniveler, acting as a high school or
college career ('Guidance?') counselor,
would have steered me to where I
actually did end up? And who would
have even seen this mess-to-be?
It just all seemed to be, like, out
of a huge rolling fog - a fog
of all the BS and misplaced
promises and ideals that they
try to peddle at you.
-
It's kind of hopeless, the way we
start out : categories and imperatives,
teachers and parents. Everything
wrong, right from the start. All
the concepts get mixed up, or they
did for me anyway : I had a friend
at the Studio School, to him nothing
of this sort mattered. He could just
live a straight-on life and nothing
of it troubled him. He was big. I
wasn't - so I figured, story of my
life, these big six-foot guys, two
hundred pounds plus, they get
all the breaks. He could drink
like it was water, he could lift a
small car, probably, if he had to.
If somebody pissed him off, he
could probably break the guy in
two - and then not even think
about it. Everything I wasn't, he
was. And that went for concepts
too. I was always doubting and
dark; he only knew 'dark' like
maybe for toast. He was from
somewhere in Northern California,
and I was from nowhere in
New Jersey. I'd sit around
looking at maps - seeing
what alignment San Francisco
had compared to New Jersey.
They didn't really line up -
surprising to me, for I always
thought they did. San Francisco
was more like even with Virginia.
Even stupider, I used that difference
as the reason not to re-locate there.
Now I look back at that unsound
judgment and realize it was pretty
stupid. That sort of geo-placement
has no bearing on anything and
besides it wasn't that greatly
different anyway. It's romantic
notions of nothing again. They
should be outlawed. I really did
end up just going into hiding.
So I figured that was the big-deal
California difference that ran
through all these guys. Brighter,
sunnier stuff. Like the grand
past of southern Italy, climate,
light, sunlight. It made different
people. Why they came east like
this, I couldn't figure. Jim had
no positives on his side by being
here - everyone thought he was
a crazy wild man. A Neanderthal
here to get drunk and screw
whenever and wherever that
sad task arose for him. I didn't
want to be Jim, exactly, just a
tad more 'like' him maybe. He'd
say, 'Mud-head, thinking shit
again, what's your problem today?
Fuck brother, the sun's out and
it ain't gonna be like that forever.
Let's go. I'm going to Brooklyn
to get some steel.' That's how
he'd talk, and we'd take the
train and he'd get some junkyard
steelyard crap we'd have to carry
back so he could weld and make
sculpture from it. Nothing I ever
cared for. The whole process was
too physical - like being a
railroad mechanic or something,
not an artist. I had 'finer' ways.
I never got to like those physical
sorts of heavy art, the way those
brawny guys lit their torches
and wore those whacked looking
welding masks. Might as well
have been digging in a mine
or something like that - the
task-oriented, physical stuff.
I'd say 'Jim, what the heck, man?
Why you doing this stuff?' And
whenever there were two or three
of them around, they'd start
talking all this metal talk,
mass and volume, balance
and counter-balance and
overhangs, and weld-quality,
and resistance and poise,
and all the rest, plus the
'finish' of the piece. They
were nuts. Some liked the
bare metal, the working finish,
the burns, scour, and marks, the
rough welds; others wanted
all that smoothed out,
hammer-toned or whatever.
It was as boring as shop-talk.
But there was always some
crappy booze around and
they'd all get worse and they
get zonked. Me two, I guess.
But, again, I was always the
fringe jerk, outside the church,
so to speak, looking in at
the service. I always figured
the seminary had ruined me -
and it had, and I probably still
think that. Just before, when I
wrote 'and whenever there were
two or three of them around,'
just now, for instance, well, all it
did was bring to mind the church
thing, Jesus, saying, whatever it
was, to the effect of 'where two
or three of you are gathered in
my name, there I am.' However it
went and whatever it meant to say.
I never could shake that stuff.
-
Heavy baggage can ruin your life.
It seems some people are just
happy-go-lucky all their lives, and
then the deluge hits them. Maybe
even it hits them unprepared. Like
all those people in Noah's flood.
I was always a big pain-in-the-ass
to myself - and probably to others
too - but at least I was always prepared.
For whatever it was I was supposed
to be prepared against. It never came?
I never recognized it anyway? If it
did come, like everything else, it just
passed me by. Jerk that I am. I really
do want to go into hiding. Still.
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