11,735. RUDIMENTS, pt. 675

RUDIMENTS, pt. 675

(anything else just gets in the way)

So I was talking with this

guy the other day and he 

started saying how he likes 

watching old movies now 

just to see the way people 

used to smoke. Not knowing

actually what I was even talking

about, I begin shoveling it to 

him  -  'Yes, that used to be a

great way of advancing plot

lines, the tense guy on the

crest of his crime, offering 

some dark, noir, babe a light,

and they share a smoke right 

before the crackling of guns 

begins, guns other than his, and

as a viewer you immediately

get two messages advanced,

without any real work by the

actors or the director  -  bad

guy has a soft spot for the

romantic babe, who, in turn

is intrigued and taken in, while,

at the same time, the romantic 

angle gets prompted along to

its tragic end, the guns blazing

and the g-men closing in.' And

in its way, the cigarette, and

that sort of scene, was an encoded

representation for all of life. It

went right through into the 1970's

and beyond. There was smoke, and

cigarettes, everywhere - the stubs

and ashes from butts and matches,

ash-trays  -  heck, even the doctor

who told you you were suffering

from lung cancer was probably

smoking as he told you that. I

don't know about movie-esque

plot lines, but imagine your local

supermarket with  -  instead of

sluggos scouring away on phones

with their carts, you had a hundred

people, equally dazed and dumb, 

in their wrap-cloud of aisle-smoke

as they shopped cereal and peanut

butter with cigarettes in their lips

or on their fingers. Right over to

the checkout, and the same thing

went on, right out to the parking

lot and into the car. It didn't

take any grimy movie to advance

that plot. Smoke just being what

it is, got in your eyes.

-

A work-acquaintance of mine, 

Nathan, in Clark B&N, used to say

you cold tell the age of someone

by the style of clothing they wear,

which most likely has stopped at

whatever years they were in their

prime. (I think that's also now

called 'retro' fashion, when it's

a sale-able ethos and money can

be made). But that wasn't the case

here when Nathan told me  -  he 

was basically making fun of his 

grandmother, whose fashion taste

had apparently stopped dead at

about 1965. He had her marked, 

and from that erected his theory.

I guess it was pretty much the

same idea as the cigarette guy.

We each waft through life with

our own something. (He was

a lot younger than me, a kid I

used to have working under me).

I happened to be amidst Nathan

in the period of his first sexual

salvos. He'd come back to work

after a discover-weekend of

his rutting, a new-found 

obsession, and say, 'Yeah, it's 

all about the vag.' (soft 'g').

I just used to laugh and say,

'Yeah, another one of life's

lessons learned. You'll be 

running out of them soon 

enough, so watch 'em carefully.'

I forget if he smoked or not.

-

I took him to New York one

day, with someone else. It was

very odd. He was underage, in

fact, but no one really asked, 

and he got alcohol, no problem;

which I'd been worried about.

The woman with us, a few years

younger than me, would have

had no problem, but she didn't

drink, so she kept getting Cokes, or,

even, water. That was no problem

either. The whole thing was just

weird. (I guess that was a sort

of thrown-in discursive sidebar.

It's funny, we go to school, as kids,

and learn cursive writing, to

supplant the child's printing we

were used to. But no one ever

teaches 'discursive' writing).

-

The woman with us was equally 

weird -  each time we passed a

Victoria's Secret store she had

something to say, one time saying

that she had trouble fitting bras

because she had a very wide back.

Man, that threw me  -  it's the sort

of trouble language brings. People

talking on the run, as they walk;

city traffic, a million other noises.

Was I sure I just heard that? Did

I get it right? Am I supposed to

respond? What does it mean? Is

she being funny? Do females 

have broad...backs? Way too 

much stuff for me to deal with.

The same thing happens anywhere,

actually : some guy wants to talk

on and on, about the minutiae of

one or another thing, but there's 

a lot of background noise, he's

a really low talker, so you have

to strain to hear him, and half the

time still can't, plus he can't

hear very well, so a lot of what 

you may say in response gets 

either ignored or taken incorrectly 

and he runs the conversational 

monologue (?) off into a complete 

other direction. That happened to

me just today too  -  the low-talker

guy I just mentioned.

-

I don't begrudge anyone their theories,

I just hate it when it gets tendentious.

Heaven is all about theories  -  the

ones that work anyway. Most of

the time, I don't even want to hear

them, I'm just not interested. At this

late stage of my own game, I find

the less I know or hear about what

it is others do or are doing, the better

it is for me. I hate distractions, and

now I hate influences too  -  I don't

wish to be taken off my own course,

and I have to protect that pretty

well  -  I'm steady-focused about

my own studies and workings. 

Anything else just gets in the way.
I also always have trouble turning
things off once I get started. It never
seems to want to stop, and even if I
walk away I still end up going back
as something else hits me. Notes
and all that are OK, but half the
time then I can't read what I've
scribbled or out of context they
lose any sensible meaning, and
I can't think it back. I find that,
the way they say 'hindsight is 
20/20'  -  that only works if you
looking at someone's butt. Now
that's hindsight. That's also
'discursive writing,' my major.