11,482. RUDIMENTS, pt. 570

RUDIMENTS, pt. 570
(eat this, before it melts)
Before I die I intend to write

a book entitled 'Living.' It's

to be a book all about conceits,

what are called 'conceits,' as in,

'You don't mean that, you're just

doing that to look good....' Or

'to look like....' However you'd

wish to have it phrased. My

opinion is that the majority

of things people do are done

for reasons like that. Lacking

the foundational block of

'authenticity,' let's say. Any

reasoning for this, I would

imagine, is based on poor

upbringing (on my part);

for the way I am viewing

the world here reeks of that

disdainful 1950's poor-boy-in

front-of-the-TV outlook that,

back in my day, was considered

all perfectly correct and a right

upbringing. No one owns up to

that now. Gunsmoke and James

Arness are what gave us Bob

Dillon; certainly not 'Dylan'

Thomas. Zimmy's always

been a liar.

-

'Perhaps there is one book for

every life. One book with the

power to reflect and illuminate

that life; one book that will

forever inform how we navigate

the little strip of time we are

given, while also helping us

to clarify and catch hold of its

most vital moments.'

-

A few chapters back I made

mention of a place called 'Pizza

Time.' Before that, in the most

pure of 1960's fashions, it had

been an A&W Root Beer stand,;

one of those car-hop places that

infiltrated from California. You'd

pull in, under this long awning

thing they had, and each car spot

had a speaker box. You'd give your

order, as it went, and they'd come

out with your stuff on  a tray, and

the tray hooked over the top of

your opened or half-opened car

window. The original intent,

a la California, was probably

to have some gym-skirted

little hottie on roller skates

tend to your car and order, but

it never got to that here  -  to

my knowledge. It was just

high school kids, girls mostly,

who'd do all the needed effort.

The entire perspective was a

bore, mainly because the sorts

of local people who went here

were in no way the sort of

characters that, I'm sure, the

original  -  sun-prone, optimistic,

garish and exhibitionist  -

designers and planners of

A&W had in mind. It was

simply two different worlds:

the California misfit crowd bore

no resemblance to the Jersey

hard-tack crowd. One wanted

truffles and wine; the other

wanted nails.

-

Once again it all got me to

thinking (I used to do a lot

of that  -  and still do); this

time it was about the great

divide between so many

different sorts of reality, and

what people think. Anyone

stumbling into A&W with

their Jersey, or Avenel, car

could only be reacting to what

they'd seen of such things in

fantasy-land versions on TV.

The 1960's input of something

like that into Avenel was, at

base, a ludicrous imposition.

Any drive-in movie would have

had the same sort of wired and

connected call-boxes, for sound

and command. It was like a new

electronic servant; a big-deal

new idea of slavery again with

this time the idea being some

California babe on skates at

your beck and call. It's so

funny to think now how it

all went with wires. The

current 'wireless world' we

have now  -  making all this

old-vision stuff laughable,

was unthinkable then. Phones

had chords. Record players

had cords (and chords too,

I suppose).Everything was

somehow still tethered to

reality while only glimpsing

a minute idea of what a

version of some alternate

future night be bringing them,

('Uh, I'll have two burgers,

a fries and a shake. Bring

me that'). Without a cord.

-

So, what's Reality anyway?

What's virtual? What's real?

Is every person, really, at

heart, a slaveholder? Or

wishes to be? Can you tell

me you are here and I am,

as well, there? How so?
Here's a story to exemplify:

This girl who is spending

time at someone else's

house for a few days, sets

out a little photo of her

dog. She places it on the

nightstand. Her host says,

'Why? Your phone has

dozens of such pictures of

Pepper, your dog. Why do

you need this one?' She replies,

'The point of the phone isn't

to be a picture of Pepper,

while the point of the picture

of Pepper is to be a picture

of Pepper.' Physical objects

possess richly specific,

intrinsic characters, and can

be repositories of meaning in

ways that a powerful portal

to the entire world cannot

manage...The world right

now is a sickness; the price

of God is contagion.

-

I don't know where any

of this leaves me, yet I

understand that I live in

my own deep woods where

little is cut, nay, nothing is

cut and all things are wild

and overgrown, and that's

how I live and get by for

that is how I prosper and I

do so love the profusion.

All the men and all the boys

who were in my past  -

seminary kids at 12 or 13  -

they seemed to love nothing

but sought out limits and

rules. Twisted vines grow

twisted roses? No, not so

specifically as that.

-

We each have our posts and we

each have our poses  - and, as

I began here, all is conceit.

-

When I first came out of the

seminary, that was the weirdest

time for me; I landed nowhere

except back home, and for me

then a 'big' exploration was

Main Street Woodbridge.

Figure that. There were things

going on around me that I

could only surmise, with an

outsider status; no one ever

really taken me in. I had

conflicts nearly immediately;

the local high school was like

a dead field of negativity to

me, yet I was forced into that

straitjacket. Again, the world 

is a disease, people are its

bacteria, and the price of

God is contagion. 
-
This new-crap, modern.

A&W idea was all about the

pressed metal that made up the 

car-hop awnings and the parking

areas. Stamped and crimped,

the pedestals were set up in

the opposite way from the 

usual; to signify modernity.

The conceit' here was some

sort of George Jetson world

a'building where all things

would be better, and wilder, 

and more efficient, with people

coming and going just to do

your bidding and where each

person was a Master, and a 

slave too in some disingenuous

world of no values or concerns.

The pedestal beams holding up

the awnings were in reverse, and

that was the extent of the entire

idea, along with the heavily

wired order-call boxes. Those

beams (the conceit being the

'Modern') were narrow at the 

bottom and fat at the top, with

that gradual and reverse taper

that brought George, Judy, Elroy,

and Jane and Astro too, out 

to serve everyone else their 

huge window-platter of

nothing. Right next to it,

somehow, was the old world

beckoning, while it died

of strangulation  -  Mary's, 

Hilltop, just sitting  -  and

across from it the bizarre

hallucination too, of an

ice-cream drive-in with a

monstrous cone standing

on its roof.