RUDIMENTS, pt. 906
(ancient stirrings of dread)
You know how it is when
people look back to recall
who they've know and who
others might have been now
that they can hardly remember?
Well, I've become my own
dead man, in so many ways.
In many ways I've thought
I was quite like a cat, having
so many lives and having
undertaken to do so many
things. I guess the riches was
in the thinking, not the doing,
because none of it at all popped
up or turned out to be anything.
A person - it may be said -
learns how to read and write,
and surmise and reason, make
choices, or choose not to make
them. That all happens quite
naturally, and it seems all a body
has to do is go along to be then
brought to the end-result of any
of that natural stuff. It's been
a mighty long time now, near past
forever, in fact, that I've run
across someone who can't read.
Or can't write. Or can't rightfully
reason things out, one against
the other. I don't know that they
still make them sorts of folks,
around here anyway. Last I
remember was one or two
really bad cases of the dumbs,
up high in the hills of Pennsylvania,
the northeast section, on along
Towanda. I admit to some bad
cases of the dumbs there; but
before that, the only one I can
remember was back in sixth grade,
Mr. Ziccardi's class, we had one
kid there who seriously just
couldn't learn, not the reading
racket, nor the writing one,
and he could hardly plausibly
say anything anyway. We
were told, as kids, that it was
because his family, at home,
only spoke their native language,
which was Albanian, and so he
was just unable to get any foothold
or grasp of what the English was
that we were always spouting on
about. But that was it, and -
yeah - it was pretty sad. His
name was Eddie and - like I
said - he really didn't talk much.
He had a brother, Joey, just a year
younger, with the same problem,
but Joey could talk and cuss a
blue streak to make you blush.
And these were serious cuss-words,
a lot of the 'F' stuff and all the rest.
I used to say, 'Joey, for someone
not good with the English, you
sure curse really well!' He said,
'That's not cussin. That's just
what I learned here. We don't
talk that way at home.'
Pretty f'n funny, I'd say.
-
It's OK for a person to 'spout,'
as I see it - and always have -
but the real gift of any of that
is to be able to spout lyrically.
Nicely. With some aplomb.
No one ever needs just a bunch
of curse-words to make a point.
The idea is to play magically with
the language given - part spoof,
part sideshow, part just plain
invigorating. Make peoples' ears
stand up, but in a good way. From
hearing things put together like
they've never heard before. Catcalls
to bumper-pool, bouncing off the
balls and pegs and rubber cups.
All at once, and thought out too,
separately, but together. They kind
of like to be amazed, or almost
sung too anyway. It was always
a great puzzle to me, all this;
almost a joke. (Try and stay with
me here): It's nice to be able to
talk and read and write, but
without any learning of thinking
behind it it's not worth squid. A
man can take center-square in
any old town plaza and - with
the right permissions - he can
rattle off for days about whatever
it is that's got his attention. It's
just pretty senseless, and the
problems only get worse - a
dumb person talking to a dumber
person (or people) for sure isn't
going to get anywhere; nor is a
smarter or educated person talking
to those same dumb people. So,
dumb to dumb is not going to
happen, nor is dumb to smart;
smart to dumb, same thing. All
that's left is smart to smart - and
mostly they don't talk to one
another either, without disagreeing
or splitting hairs, or without first
knowing already that they agree.
So what's the use of any of that?
The only hope left is for the
language magician to step up
and do tricks in a way to mesmerize
or awe the crowd. That's how it
all happens (Dictators take note!).
-
It's funny too how, back in the
older days, people were always
getting jarred and stirred up by
what was new and shocking and,
yes, jarring - Darwin and
evolution, Freud and the
unconscious, Edison and those
fellows about Electricity, and
the others with their stars and
heavens and science. That all
used to rile people up. No more;
and isn't that funny. Nowadays
all those 'leading lights' and all
those cultural icons and trend
setters and 'representees' of
fashion and entertainment and
all, they only get stirred by
going backwards - primitive
myths and ancient tribalisms
represent to them all now the
high-points of ethics and
living, as 'brutish' as it may
be and have been. The primitive
and mythical and exotic stuff
makes them want to be tribal
again, finding all those 'ancient'
truths in new habits and in
'rich-man' rituals and awarenesses;
making them 'right' all of a sudden
by being what they now call 'woke.'
What the heck? And where the
Hell have they been all this time?
In line at McDonald's Playing
video games? All of a sudden
they're no longer stupid? After
a lifetime of their own uselessness
they're all of a sudden big-shits
about themselves? And everyone
else now has to hear it? As if
no one has already BEEN
advanced before them. Assholes.
There's no worse pooper than
a latecomer to the party they've
come to poop. All of a sudden
they're more pleased with the
ancient stirrings of dread in
their bones than we are?
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