11,814. RUDIMENTS, pt. 707

RUDIMENTS,  pt. 707

(good for a chuckle)

'I will take you to the

quitting bar, with fair

and advance notice.'

That was a sort of

mental motto that I

kept to myself, except

I never really knew what

it meant; something to

do with letting others

know when I was going

to be done with them.

In the same way

philosophers seem to

formulate what it is

they think makes others

'Happy' - so I was going

after what made me happy.

A form of selfishness,

I suppose; which I've

always thought is worthwhile.

Today, when I look back

on things, I get amazed at

how young I really was

when I had already started

all this weird scheming. If

my chart were being kept by

a doctor, my mad-values

would, early-on, have

already been off the chart.

-

Lots of times people just got

me all wrong. A complete

mis-reading. Maybe I was just

a good charlatan. I never lied

so I can't exactly blame myself,

but it's been more than a few

times that I've been verbally

set-at by people who've made

the assumption that I was from

privilege, a 'trust-fund-baby'

snob, a creature of entitlement.

I'm not that at all, and was

always a meager, low-grade-

level poverty kid whose father, I

well recall, came home weekly

with a one hundred and twenty-

five dollar cash pay envelope.

High-living to them (my parents)

was a few extra television channels,

and color! And by leaving when

I did, I essentially afforded myself

chances at not much more than

that  -  living by subsistence-means

became good enough for me. Once

any person gets started at that, he

or she learns quickly enough that

it's easy to get by within, and the

lack of things isn't really so bad.

Even in Princeton  -  cloud of

icy privilege that the town is, I

was mostly taken for one of

them; which is completely

bonkers. I never posed; just

mostly kept quiet, except

when I didn't, and that mostly

just get me into trouble. The

problem is, really, how do

you approach the come-down?

Do you just start out telling

people, 'Look, it's not what

you think; I'm really just a

creep  -  in fact, George Romero

got all his ideas from seeing

me.' (I think that's a Night

Of the Living Dead workable

crack). It was all I could do to

leave a Princeton tip without

wailing over it. When money's

scarce, it's hard to just  throw it

away, and I never 'asked' for

all that service anyway.

-

It was as if someone introduced

himself to me and said 'Hello,

my name's John Quark,' and I

replied, 'Charmed, I'm sure...'

That's how mixed-up bizarre

my whole world got to be. My

resultant tangle was something

that no one should ever have

had to deal with; but people have

to work so I had to go somewhere,

I suppose. I was more sorry to

bother those poor souls than

they were to have to deal with

me. Anyway, real understandings

were never met. You say potato;

I say green onion. Existentially, 

I should just have been left 

alone, because that was my 

deed, my 'act' of choice was 

to simply define myself by 

myself  -  remember, I said

earlier that I favored selfishness  

-  because it's the only thing 

that works, and works right, 

and also because, when you

come right down to it, altruism

sucks, and doing things for 

others all the time, or at least 

proclaiming so, is, at the end 

of all things, a big, blatant 

and boring lie. In Princeton
they 'proclaimed' for a lot of
stuff  -  sending books to
prisoners, proclaiming injustice
and the innocence of the guilty, 
the righteousness of any
chosen cause, and, all the while,
they had it all anyway. 'Before I
leave here, can I get a side order
or Moral Superiority to go?'
Trust-buster fund babies? Not.

-

Back in the seminary  -  long 

time ago, and we were just 

kids  -  there was a guy there 

with me, his name was Ed 

Adams. Eddie Adams, he

was called. He was an OK 

guy, I liked him; I think he 

was from Trenton or some 

area around there. One time, 

during some oral-report

thing was all doing, he read 

off a citation list, for the work 

he'd done, the sources he'd 

used, and more than a few of 

them were 'Reader's Digest.'

I forget the incidentals, nor 

do I know how more than 

one reference to Reader's 

Digest could get in as  a 

'source' since their articles 

ranged all over the place, 

had no distinguishing

subject-unity, were not 

'themed,' and certainly had 

no intellectual reliability.

But, in any case, poor Eddie 

was pretty much laughed 

off the floor for that breach 

of scholarly etiquette. His

use of Reader's Digest as a

source was considered to be

laughable. He took it like a

man, or teen-boy, whatever,

and it all ended up OK but

I always held it up for Eddie

having withstood that crap  -

a bunch of wheezers laughing

someone else off. Back then,

whatever it was, '63, '64, '65,

I don't remember, there was

a stylish vogue for Ayn Rand.

I'd never much heard of her,

and when I did I didn't much

care. Never much liked her,

not even her 'looks,' enough

to get involved. She was 

eagle-like, seemed stern, hard, 

harsh, and without humor.

Funny thing was, part of her 

ideas went by the name

'Selfishness.' Which was 

weird to me at that stage  -  

Ed Adams was a big fan 

of hers and her work, so I

have to hand it back to him

for  -  way back then  -  showing

me something new. So, anyway,

Ed got laughed out of court, by

a bunch of Lord Of the Flies

type proto-religious tyrants, 

and one day, years later, maybe 

1970, I see Eddie crossing the 

campus of Princeton University. 

Son of a gun, I figured, he had 

made it in, got to his own big 

time, and probably never again 

(or, maybe still does) read the 

Reader's Digest. For anything 

perhaps but my favorite part,

'Laughter, the Best Medicine.'

It may not be good as source

material and reference matter,

but it's good for a chuckle.

Or was.