Wednesday, March 27, 2019

11,638. RUDIMENTS, pt. 636

RUDIMENTS, pt. 636
(nothing good comes from nazareth)
I always figured most of
'Society' to be made up
of envy. The component
of envy was everywhere,
in everything, the basis
of all marketing and
made-up desires, and, of
course, pushed constantly
by the advertising industry.
Capitalism itself was based
on a promoted form on envy,
the idea being you 'wanted'
what your neighbor had.
Regular people envied
artists for their ease, lack
of employment, and their
free ways. In turn, artists
envied the regular pay-checks,
homes and family lives that
they'd see, many times, all
those regular people having.
Lay people envied clerics,
as the clerics often enough
envied the flock they preached
to. Cops envied criminals and
criminals envied cops. It was
all a regular schmuck-show,
and the only thing steady
about America was how
envy was pushed along,
used as the basis  for selling
'larger' cars  -  things bigger
and better. The thing that kept
Capitalism going was that it
was never ending  -  as soon as
any regular moron attained what
he or she had wanted, the need
would be manufactured that there
was something newer and larger
and better again! And you should
really have that too. As soon as
a person got to or near the finish
line, the line was pulled away
and another set. Maddening!
That constantly sliding scale
of indeterminate and relative
function entered into all the
facts of the day. Desires had to
be, first, created, and then kept
only nearly fulfilled but never
quite. Defeat always being
snatched from the jaws of
victory, as it were.
-
It all came down to how any
one person ended up seeing
their own self in relation to
others. That was the angle
constantly pushed; never
was it mentioned how one
looked to oneself. That form
of self-reflection, self-criticism,
or introspection had been made
to seem corrupt, gay, fey, mad,
useless, not playing the real
game. In the end, it becomes,
and successfully so, since it is
Society itself which has dictated
the ending for the rube who
follows it  -  a shoot-out with
oneself : taking an aim what
you perceive as being the
target, (because 'they' have
told you so and conditioned
you so), the threat. Which is
YOU and you alone, the you
which you then self-annihilate.
I'd seen it already a hundred
times and more.
-
That's what school is based on.
Subjection and submission.
That's the role teachers joyously
jump into along their ways on
endless little power-trips and
protection ego-rants. Really;
nothing good comes from
Nazareth.
-
That all ended once I got to
New York. in the seminary,
everything had been about
judgment and some sort of
labored and revered values.
Never fully explained, just
somehow absorbed. Pious.
(Two words I never much took
to, by the way, were 'piety'
and 'calumny'). We had our
share of that there  -  Charles
Waddell, it was, I can recall,
taking longer than anyone
else to pray, dragging it out
longer than everyone else, each
time, so that as we all would be
leaving chapel he'd still be in there
kneeling, as we passed him, with
his silent-mouthed words and
lips going a mile a minute with
his stupidly clasped prayer hands
out before him. Boy that used
to make me sick. There wasn't
that sort of theatrical schmuck
crap in NYC. Don't get me
wrong, there was plenty of its
equivalent in whatever way,
shape, or fashion it was done.
I got used to it all, but all that
crummy, previous, stuff
lingered. Chuck Waddell, as
stiff and as rigid as cardboard,
was an after-image always kept
burning in my mind. I never
knew why, but I knew I had
to shake it. The lower and
dirtier I could keep things,
the farther away from all his
'plu-perfect' crud I'd be. It
was a, it became a, constant
psychic scrimmage. The only
thing those seminary guys
every really did for me was,
apparently, instill in me a real
screwed-up world view. A
female, for goodness shake,
was enough to give me the
shudders every day, and now,
all around me, they're suddenly
naked or half-so! None of
this was ever spoken of, of
course, and I shared with no
one my sense of being marooned
somewhere on an isthmus of
Hell with no apparent way out.
-
I did just have to watch everything
carefully. Fully-clothed girls were
one thing, but around me now they
were draped in nothing and 'modeling'
for drawing class. Oh, sure that'd, work;
I sensed that right away. Why walk
when you can run. The funniest thing
was the absolute silence about all of
that, as if the assumption was to be,
no, no, the girl's not really naked,
and neither is the guy there either;
they're apparitions that we'll not
speak about. And then, down the
street the girls at the Diggers place,
they lived together, all unclothed.
Highest-class hippies you'd ever see!
No wonder the silent mouth was busy
with prayer  -  someone had to get
us through this mess. You can hardly
imagine what it was like to have to
live in this manner  - fresh out of
tenderfoot school and dipped into
boiling oil the very same day.
-
How do you make sense of any
of that? It wasn't easy and it took
some doing, but there are
characters and situations I'm
looking here to share with
you  -  hoping they will make
more clear parts of this strange
predicament I had gotten into.
Just, whatever you do  -  
don't envy me.







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