12,541. RUDIMENTS, pt. 956

RUDIMENTS, pt. 956

(the end of an idea)

In any random collation of

events, a person is bound to

get something right  -  even if

it's just now and then, and just

by chance. I never believed

any of that, but that's how the

saying went, or how people

talked it anyway. Like with

the ape or something, and a

typewriter, always having

the chance to come up with

Shakespeare. And, yes, if

you believe that, see me

after class, sweetie, and I'll

show you my etchings.

-
The time I was in California, one
thing I noticed, which I never saw
around the east, was a sort of
place-specific awareness of life
having a feeling of sensuous 
pleasure level and an appreciation
of the everyday, natural world. 
Maybe it had something to do with
all that San Andreas Fault, 'The 
big one is coming! Live for the now
for tomorrow it may all be gone,'
stuff. Hedonism by another name?
I never found out, but I also had
never before seen soulful people,
soulful in  a different way than the
dark and dour misery of the east.
These people were glorying in a
self-reliant fullness of their own,
happy for richness and light and
warmth too. If there was misery,
it was the joke-misery of a too
crowded freeway, or a parking lot
that was difficult to enter.
-
It wasn't like that back home  -  the
east, I mean  -  it seemed, there,
that another sort of darker, dour,
form of brooding and awareness;
often just a beleaguered cry for
help, from all sorts of people, had
gotten planted and was allowed 
to grow. Mostly, happiness, for
sure, was gone  -  for without a
personal sense of growth and
attainment and happiness, most 
things just become gloomy and 
routine. Somehow though, in
California, even the hamburger
flippers were happy, even after
the 75,000th flipped burger. In
every area one went, there were
frilly drive-ins and such. They even
had, like we had in the east, their
own equivalents of 'Fotomat,'
those little drive up stands, but
out there they were for coffee!
Fairly incredible, it was, to hang
a quick veer off the roadway to
grab a 65 cent coffee on the run.
I guess stuff like that added to it
all, the air and the  surroundings, to
make people happy and expectant 
of good things. Not servitude, and
certainly not dependency.
-
I've seen a masterful lot of

crap in my day, and it still

goes on, now. I get pretty sick

over it; and it's mainly the

reason I hate this country

and dislike all the rubbish it

stands for. To explain that,

I probably should add a bit

here about how the entire

premise has been turned

on its head now  -  the 

premise of whatever this 

place was originally to

have been about. Freedom,

self-reliance, individuality.

Each one of those items, 

and there are 50 more, are

long gone and only rendered

cheap lip-service by the same

unctuous stalwarts now who

stand and raise a glass and

salute a soiled flag.

-

I know at least

three people whose only

talents lie in the field of

gaming the system and

getting away with it.

Screwing up their own

times and places and then

running to the 'Government'

to fix it up for them and

subsidize their entertainment

while doing nothing to alleviate

their own woes. Maybe all that's

cool, for one perspective but

not when it's public. The public

gainsay is nil. Nothing gained

by what you say. But it all

goes on. There's a guy here,

living in squalor, and then

whining all the time about

everything, while taking full

advantage of everything too.

His place is a wreck, the town

steps in, cleans his wreck up

some, bills him for it, the fence

blows down, he's complaining,

all while running to the fence

store for their free offer to help

cripples and indigents for their

new fences and installations.

That's but one example. Any

country that harbors and then

supports and encourages such

indigents to let them support

him or her is far beyond the

pale of my comprehension. And

I just don't know any better, and

the handouts, I suppose, are free

and just continually handed out.
-
The difference here, as I see it, is
that in the east people will put up
with anything, and voice no opinion
at all. That fence scenario, for 
instance. No one told the town to
go screw itself. The town moved in,
did what it wanted, told the guy to
take a hike, wrecked and bared
the yard to such an extent that,
because all the foliage was torn
and ripped away (by outside 
contractor's, I'm sure giving 
kickbacks), the fencing all blew
down in the next wind-storm. The
place now looks ten times worse
than it ever did, and he's got a
bill (lien) for $5400. As it all goes
here, you're not allowed to have an
opinion. 'They'll' make your 
decisions  for you, and implement 
them too. All you get is the bill.
That wouldn't float in California.
-

Thinking of the larger picture,

I was always presented with 

the contrast of the early days 

of my free existence. In NYC, 

of course, I knew a lot of 

down and outers, but none 

of them ever went outside

themselves to handle matters. 

In all aspects of being  -  even 

the worse  -  there was always 

a certain sort of, let's call it, 

manliness, by which one never 

went to Authority or Agency 

for anything. One took care

of one's own affairs by one's

own self and effort. The fine

lawlessness of living alone 

came through, and being 

sullied with all that nagging

bureaucratic stuff would have

just killed such an existence. 

I remember, in like 1974, when

Britain was undergoing all of 

that coal and poverty crisis 

stuff, After Harold Wilson

and under Edward Heath, 

there was a swarm of folks 

just flocking to the central 

authorities for their personal

assistance and handouts. The

miners were on strike, it was

cold out, everything seemed

wretched, and it was a real

crisis of the moment. Handled

by? What? The topmost, jeering,
mass of elite ideologues who
who always claim to 'know best'
and run things. No, not the people

themselves; not the laggards

and sluggos who ran themselves

to the dole. The Socialist dole?

That was never supposed to

be the American way. In fact,

a goodly number of upstanding

folk died for that cause and

effort here. Fife. Drums. And
revolution. Beats me now

how it's withered.

-

What was left of the original

premise of this country, had,

apparently, after FDR, and 

then the 1980's, given way

to the age of Reagan. There was
the paradox : sense and literacy,
out the window. Ideology here too,
and from the other angle. And

without a whimper, a pretend
politics of TV 'toons. Deregulation;

tax cuts for the wealthy; the

promise of the free-markets

leading to widespread prosperity.

Historian Sean Wilentz, opposing

this, has said, "We live in a world

where supply-side economics,

which was always a fraud,

became a religion." Another

guy, Nick Hanauer (these rich

folk are beginning run scared),

has said, (in 'Beware, Fellow

Plutocrats, the Pitchforks Are

Coming'), after describing his

multiple homes, his yacht, and

his private plane: "Revolutions,

like bankruptcies, come gradually

and then suddenly. One day somebody

sets himself on fire, then thousands

of people are in the streets, and

before you know it, the country is

burning. And then there's no time

for us to jump on our Gulfstream

and fly to New Zealand." The entire

problem with the breakdown of

America is that 'We' (I exclude

myself) have done it to ourselves,

or allowed it to occur, by dependency,

by adopting all the outlooks and

points-of-view and needy

expectations of the weaklings

and the smithereens among us 

who are always seeking help, 

and are withered and weakened 

from their own shortcomings 

but expectant of solution by 

others, (just sit back, the fence

guys are coming), and mostly

by Government. It's very slavish.

-

'The Business Roundtable' doesn't

help. They have no solutions, since

they are but play-actors within the

ghost-theater of the establishment

and the powers in place already

who feed off this stuff, who promote

it, and who now run deadly scared

of the great American break-out.

I daresay they're safe, however,

because the dullards will never

break out of their straitjackets of

fears to do anything about it but

to take more. Helping the poor,

to them (made up of big-time

CEO's of large companies),

somehow means riding around

Manhattan on a bicycle instead

of being driven.

-

In the late 1960's, I was always

going around Manhattan looking

for the probable points for the 

what I thought was coming 

social upheaval that never came. 

In fact, not a darn thing ever 

really happened. I'd  been sure 

it was right around the corner  -  

maybe the East Village, perhaps 

the riotous know-nothings

packing Tompkins Square Park.

I should have known it was all 

but noise. It all broke down to

a ridiculous sideshow of, almost,

bestial proportions, subsumed 

and exploited by sham media, 

merchandising, and self-promotion

of a very singular sort. The end

result, ten years later? Maybe 

Disco, and The Bee Gees?

How could anything have been

worthwhile? The killing fields

had given us a dead field, one

big, singular, field of automatons.

I was always glad I never went to

kill or fight others, in those days,

to defend that. Like Greyhound

said (the tour bus company),

'Leave the Driving To Us!'

That's the Government speaking;

and most people did leave it

to them. Sad world. Too bad.
When I came home from California,
it all hit me like a brick; the bad
brick of brooding darkness.