11,422. RUDIMENTS, pt. 544

RUDIMENTS, pt. 544
(once when leaving haverstraw)
Well, Cap'n, 'ere's how it goes,

I guess. They cut down every

tree they can find so to make

the place they live like a landin'

strip and then they go out and

plop down 40 bucks to buy a

dead one and drag into their

house, INTO mind you, for

two weeks. Jes' to sit there

and wither, and from that they

say they're celebratin' Nature,

and then, some, they throw in

the Jesus stuff too  -  cute little

wrappin's and animals at the

scene. The only Nature they

ever celebrated is the one

outdoors from them where

they wage war on it with bug

sprays and cuttings and pesticides

and toxins and then cry when

their cat dies. Like drinking

freaking lye. I'd say. 'Least

it's the same-soundin' word.

-

That was my speech to the Rotary

Club; which club, the only thing

rotary about it, is the way these

thug-warming guys find their

butt plug to sit on and rotate. All

fine young gents, in their way; just

don't be some nubile catch-basin

around them. OK. I never got it

when people start acting all high

and mighty about their causes and

effects, because the higher polish

of words they all try to give it the

lower level of their idyucation

shows. 'Madon a'mia' or something

like that my uncle used to say, the

Italian one, while while biting his

hand  -  that was always a weird

move. I never took up with that

other language stuff, the neighborhood

kind like when the Poles from Poland

would 'galumpka' this and the Eyetalians

from wherever would 'gnocchi' that.

All too confusing; and the Russians,

with their 'Nostrovya' stuff right

before they downed their 12th vodka.

My old-man friend Jim, who mostly

got everything wrong, he just said

'East Rahway,' which kind of sounds

like Nostrovya, and drank anyway.

He spent half his life at the other

end of the bar at the Beacon Liquors

place that used to be there next to

Atlantic Tire and later it was  a

hot-shot go-go bar with half naked

you-don't-want-to-knows dancing

on poles (no, not the Polish ones)

for a dollar, doing it all up swanky

like and making you blush, sweat,

stammer, and puke all at once. Like

'How could anyone stoop so low?'

That could be a joke there too,

in and of itself.

-

'In and of itself,' that's pretty weird

to say  -  or think about. As a concept,

it's unique. I guess everything is, or

does get to be, at some level, 'in and

of itself,' so it ain't great philosophy

or nothing like will get you over to

the Sour Bun, that place in Paris, like

Jim called it, for the Sorbonne. Or,

as I like to say, the Sornobbe. In and

of themselves, these aren't any great

ideas, just stuff to keep the conversation

liquid, lubricated, languid, and luxorious

too; probably. Now THAT's a good

one to look into  -  that luxurious

thing. See, the Palace at Luxor,

you would think, had something to

do with this. Light. Luxurious. Etc.

But not so. Always so interesting,

these little things.

-

Ah, whatever. Like they say in

Grinchland, starve a fever, feed 

a cold. Why can't you just feed

the fever to the cold, and be done

with it all?  And how come none

of those gender people have come 

up yet with some sort of change

word for what they do? Identity.

Mydentity? Mandentity? Something 

of that sort seems doable. Get on it.

-

Now, back to those trees I began

with. Have you ever noticed the

pretension of places, like, say, um,

Avenel  -  being part of Woodbridge

and all  -  always braggin' on itself,

about stuff that simply isn't true?

Like trees, for instance. The place is

disgusting to look at; there's little left,

and the twisted and morose looking

lawnshit trees you see are all the

sort of import-trees, that get

planted by know-nothing Mexican

landscapers; alien foliage brought

in, and planted by aliens too! I

wonder how does any of that 

happen. I remember, back in

Metuchen, they had this outfit

called DCR Landscaping, and

on Fridays all his immigrant 

workers would flood the bank

with their checks to be cashed and

processed  -  tree experts, each.

Oh yeah! Defoliate, (then) Chip

the Rubble. I think that was

what their logo letters meant.

I guess once you turn your land

and operation over to outsiders,

in this manner, all is lost. The top

management guys just want, at

that point, to sit back, do the

scheduling, and rake it all in while

sending out their crews of worker

bees who stop at nothing to grind, 

push, and grunt to get through a

workday. It's kind of at that point 

that any pride of being or any

ownership, for sure any cultivation 

of place and value, is lost and

thrown away. It's all too bad.

And it's all what we have lost.
-
So. I'm hirsute again. What a
stupid dreaded word : to be
avoided at all costs, or hire
some suits to argue it away.
The cost of a bar is mounting.
The coat of a bat is moulting.
Hair we go again.
-

Once when I was leaving Haverstraw,
we stopped, we pulled over, at a
roadside store to get some things
to eat and drink. Three of us.
We bought some sandwich stuff
and some chips. This was 1982.
Something each to drink, as well,
and, as I was leaving, the girl
from the counter called out,
'Have a straw, sir?' Another time,
at a luncheonette in Union, NJ,
my young son and I sat at the
counter having lunch and I asked
for a Coke, for him. The girl
looked back, and, speaking
quickly, said Fountain or Cancer?
That threw me for a second, should
I have asked, yes, for cancer, with
all its ugly trimmings? No, no. She
smiled back. Would you like a fountain
soda, or a can of Coke, sir?
-
"Highly Advanced Circumnavigation :
(Japanese Maids) - Raikichi likes to have
a lot of maids around. He says it makes 
the house bright and lively.  In making
use of the house telephone (old days)
to advance their amours after eyeing the
tradesmen who visit the house, the maids
always do some follow up. And then there
is Koma. Taken to a department store
with a closed-circuit television set-up,
she's thrilled to see herself on TV and
rides the escalator again and again,
watching herself on the screen..."