RUDIMENTS, pt. 327
Making Cars
I always found it to be about
categorizing and then integrating
things into one's own life, that
mattered. Like seeing that snake
- a seemingly random moment
that, in the long context of being,
is of no importance whatsoever -
but that, if tied into a broader
envisioning of the times and
motivations of one's life, takes
on its own form of importance
and fits into the grid. After all,
how else to judge that which
we claim not to 'judge.' Living
freely necessitates no judging.
-
I use to feel pretty neighborly,
sometimes. In NYC, funny, I
would 'visit' places - go see
old Mark Twain in his whites,
at Tenth Street, Washington
Irving, Edger Allen Poe, Thom
Paine, Edna St. Vincent Millay,
Eugene O'Neill, John Reed,
Delmore Schwartz, Hart Crane,
the list went on. It was all pretty
weird, a young nowhere twerp
like me shunting into the social
scene of unheard of moments.
I was prepared for anything by
being prepared for nothing. That
seeming incongruity grew. In
all the places I went, there were
stories: Artists at Coenties Slip,
the old dead of the Village, the
wealthied minions of the Fifth
Avenue crowd. That was all old
America to me - those endless
flags flying on masts from the
fronts of monumental buildings;
the vast rooming spaces of the
Fifth Avenue residences which
each had historic and societal
import and story. There was an
artist once - Childe Hassam -
he went nuts with that stuff.
Buildings and flags everywhere.
Iconic almost now; how anyone
could be that possessed by the
presence in that way of whatever
it was he was trying to put across.
Seeing as message, I guess, though
I never quite got the message.
-
There was always a sort of brash
internationalism along the fish
market area that I couldn't ever
tie to anything. Sailors and those
sorts always just seemed to come
and go at will, and with a sort
of European glee that America
never possessed. It's perhaps the
sort of difference between just
wearing a tee shirt, (American),
and, (European), adding to it with
a neck scarf tied around, a type
of different fabric and color, and a
form of loose, baggy pants & beret.
Perhaps you don't get what I
mean but the Euro-guys just
dressed and came across all
differently. I liked it. Devil may
care; flamboyance; in-your-face
feelings of let-me-be, and I-am-
free. Which of course they
weren't, not in any way different
than anyone else and I knew that,
but so what. To see, on the other
hand, the dense and more serious
Americans, digging deep into
their mental ideals of piggy-bank
economics and the buy and sell
rigors of market and commerce
was almost alarming. Where in
the constitution, I used to wonder,
was it written of 'serious mien
and an economic countenance'
being specific needs for American
living? Sure beat the heck out
of me.
-
I had been raised in some form
of intermediate level of schooling
that really covered very little. The
early years, of course. Which are
really all that's needed and I never
knew why the rest of the grades were
undertaken - all that false expense,
infrastructure, rotational regulations,
and all that. It's really no more than
bureaucracy and a false intimidation
intent on control. Jobs for stupid
people who then decide to claim
they are 'teaching,' and want the
world. Mostly disgruntled and
maladjusted kids who end up
slaughtering each other anyway.
My middle years were seminary
schooling - another sort entire,
really light on the math and science
ends of things. Catholic Mathematics
is ridiculous anyway, because they
always assert the One equals Three,
so go figure. In addition, absolutely
little hold on Biology or personal
sciences, and a lack of Economics
and Civics sort of training. It little
mattered (once the ABC's are
undertaken and grammar learned,
the rest can all be wholesomely
engaged and self-taught, without
the fractious debates of status,
reports. Looming deadlines and
factors of 'advancement'). Yet, as
I wandered the shopfronts and
cargo holds of the east-side
waterfront I realized how vacuous
and unsubstantial my hold was
on any of the forms of commerce
('economics') which went on here.
People buying in bulk : Forty of
this at that price, to be handled,
once, and resold as forty (or more
if cut and sundered) of that at
another price. The difference
was mark-up. People stood or
fell on that difference, their
entire working lives were
consumed by that. And - you
know what? - it was all so
sordid and boring to me that
I found little interest in what
was fleetingly called 'business.'
Nothing new was ever brought
to the table, no fresh or peculiar
ideas, just the usual slab of a
different sort of cut to the same
old crap : have this, get that, it
becomes (yet again) 'that!'. It
was, as far as I could, a total-loss
system of getting over on the
next guy. I'd scratch my head.
Even the street whores, I guessed,
thereabouts, had their own product,
priced and sold freely. All their
needed items came free too. As
best I could see, they had, in
business terms, a great deal going:
work at will, low overhead, no
investment in equipment, totally
reusable stuff. What the heck
else is business about then?
Even the old wharf-side pirate
fleets were out after gain, and
they had to work life and limb
for it; just as ill-gotten.
-
So screw all that, the terms of a
life were all in how you phrase it
and what you wished to say about
it. You can easily frame your own
concept and state your own case.
They don't teach you that in school,
(and I realized they never could),
where thy first try to instill in you
the validity of boxes, and then,
once you accept that, gleefully
do they go about stuffing you
into one. You will 'be' this
useful thing, or that useful thing.
None of that for me, thanks. I
simply knew I saw 'things'
differently and lived in a
better world for it.
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