RUDIMENTS, pt. 775
(dog days of August)
I mostly found that there
were no false friends, more
like just misguided enemies.
It was a logic I had to live
with, as I found lots of
people distasteful, but, to
be honest, that was the lot
given to me. I couldn't end
up hating everyone. It's
taken me a long time to
reach 70 - in fact it's
probably been good for
70 years - and I still find
it's nothing to brag about.
I could be dead before I
finish this chapter; but that
too has nothing to do with
70; it could've happened at
any moment all along the
way. But it didn't. So, what's
this life then anyway? A
dim stretch in some stench
of a prison? A quick stop
waiting for some pill to
dissolve in water? A dream
that just goes on? A conversation
that, once started, you hope
doesn't quickly end? My
own reflections on life, and
on my own errors, would
probably be offensive to
many; and they'd certainly
disprove the stupid life I've
led. It would follow, mostly,
as this : Remain alone. Ally
oneself with no other. Never
compromise. Speak truly and
with direction, and say what
you feel.
-
Elmira, and Elmira College
specifically, was filled with
those small-school academic
types who wish to offend no
one, and who stay pleasant at
all costs, even if their nephew
had just changed into Jack the
Ripper and killed the rest of
the family in cold blood. They
want to have a discussion period
over the way it all was worked
and maneuvered. Pass no
judgment, just the salt and
pepper. They all families
and kids, the professors, those
who taught. There were no
strangulated, mad scholars
staggering around. No droolers
with pencils in their ears,
proclaiming a new physics
some companion universe
their calculations had just
discovered. (I'd rather think
they left that all for me). A
real dead-end job, all this
marriage and family stuff.
-
Christine Rosner? Always alone;
never had a guy that I saw. It
was more with the distaff side
anyway, but she seemed always
content. I envied that - living
alone, with some meager
pomposity, no one to ever
bother her, or bother with.
My Philosophy teacher, a
guy named John McLaughlin,
also well-together. I was never
sure if he had a family scene
going on, but the way he spoke
he probably did. Level-headed,
and with philosophical logic.
The sort that would keep a
person composed and in check.
Have you ever noticed the two
very different sides to philosophy.
There are some it just throws
way overboard, and others can
withstand it all and remain in
check. The funniest part of it
all was that the rest of Elmira -
outside this oddball college
district, ad without their even
knowing it - was of the mad
and crazy side. As if they'd all
somehow OD'd on Philosophy.
Of course, in their riddling
blindness they just went at it,
without knowing. It wasn't really
philosophical at all. It was just
poverty. There'd be these rows
of grand, 19th century, large
homes, once majestic and
almost regal, with yards and
trees, carriage entries and
nose stables, all now gone
to seed and harboring 15 or
20 people. You see worn-out
patches of what used to be
lawns and grasses; broken-down
swing sets and non-working
cars; The houses themselves
would be broken up into maybe
4, or ore, households - there'd
be numerous mailboxes, multiple
meters on the outside for the
electric service and water meters.
Everything was shabby, falling
apart, vacant and morose people.
It was really tough, some of that.
Like post-wartime remnants;
whatever was left just stayed,
hanging around. The philosophy,
maybe, if any was really around,
would have, I guess, been Nihilism.
Not much else survived.
-
The other end of that spectrum
was Ms Rosner's innate goodness.
Like mis-reading all that birdcage
stuff from the air conditioners.
Had it been me in that situation,
I'd have probably said, 'What the
heck? These people are mad, each
one has a small jail-cage hanging
out their windows...' As she spoke,
and as any conversation with here
ran on, it was always sunshine and
light and happiness. She believed
she possessed a skill of talking
to animals. I told her to go ahead
and try it with mt dog - an unruly,
crazy per if ever there was one.
I don't know what they ever talked
about, but no change ever came
out of it. Baretta (the dog's name)
rode with us, liked car-rides and
all, but was apt at any moment to
lunge, break away from the leash
in any way possible, and just take
off. Finally we just had to give
up taking her around, but she
go crazy after kids on bicycles
along our own street, ramming
the bike, knocking the kids off
or over. Never biting, but still
everyone always got freaky
over it. One time it had some
kind of dog-operation, got
neutered or spayed, whatever
the male gets, and once at home,
bandaged and stitches and all,
she took off. I mean off. I finally
went over to the college radio
station and gave a report in, and
they kept announcing, on whole
weekend, about this runaway dog,
with stitches and on medication,
etc., with the description and all.
Finally by Tuesday morning
someone called saying they had
it in their yard, and hoped they
could keep it their until we
arrived. It all worked out; we
got there and retrieved the
dog. Another time, same thing,
we were going away for maybe
8 days, and my wife's Chinese
teacher, Mary Tse, she called
herself, a very nice girl, was
going to stay in our house for
that time, watching the dog.
We came home after the trip -
no Mary; no dog. Turned out
the dog had frustrated her so
badly that she left and the dog
had taken off too. We did find
the dog; some neighbors down
the block had it and had been
keeping it under lock and key in
their yard.(We later found out
they'd 'sedated' it too, with
something they'd gotten). Bad
scene all around; we caught up
to Mary and said 'What was that?'
Apparently, lets say, Chinese
folk aren't real fond of canines
(when living?)....
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