12,676. RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,006

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,006

(a roomful of LBJ's)

It hit me once or twice that

I was more or less an itinerant,

aimless being  -  from one angle  -

and a mad, crusading prophet, 

from another. The make-up of

my character, the more I thought

about it, could bring me nowhere 

else. I was a walking disaster from 

the outside, but gold inside. Train 

wreck, seminary school, years away, 

a sort return to a home-time not 

worth it, the Satanic drudgery

of finishing a 'high school' in a

curriculum for half-brains, and 

then a getaway as quick and 

gigantic, and silent as anyone 

else's. I entered this fray without 

strict principles except to be

myself and what I was growing, 

into, forming, articulating. 

If that meant, now, messages 

from beyond, I'd take them 

willingly. My cover was Art,

seeking art and a knowledge of

intellectual matter. All about as

random as a starry, starry night's sky,

seems to be but isn't. More paradox,

like grime, on a dirty hand. Lava

Soap to the rescue? A good scrubbing

of all the lines and the recesses.

Of the mind. I wished to be sure

of turning everything inside out.

All  around me the crazy streets

were burning : Draft resistance,

anti-Vietnam protests. A freaking

March 31st LBJ on TV telling

the entire nation he was done,

wanted no more of it, was sick

of the entire mess. I think if he'd

been able to, on national Texas-twang

TV, to tell the entire country to go

fuck itself, he would have. And he

probably could have, actually, but

didn't have the righteous guts. The way

he pulled out that paper and added his

'I'm done' ending was precious. I watched

that  address on some rectangular TV 

screen  somewhere, I forget, but it was a

time when, if you  went in a department 

store or whatever, into their TV section,

you could get like 30 TV's, in a row,

all on at the same time (you were 

supposed to see and compare the

different picture qualities, etc.), a 

roomful of LBJ's all renouncing

their position, cursing the people, 

absconding from any responsibility 

for the dead on both sides. Bodies 

burning. Cities and villages flattened, 

and this big-eared Texas fool says HE

wanted no more of it. Jerk-central; 

and the country fell for it. 

-

The trouble with people like him is, 

and was then, that they were career

politicians, inbred in their thoughts 

and characterized only by their stupid

fervor for implementing Government.

The only lens they ever saw with was

the procedural and check-off lens of

DC process and national approaches.

They were all liars. Dean Rusk.

McNamara. Johnson. Nixon. Henry

Kissinger. Hubert Humphrey. Even

Rostow, Fulbright and Proxmire. Their

combined forces were destroying at 

least 2 countries and trying or more.

Vietnam, the USA, Laos, Thailand.

That whole rim of small and pliant

Asians cultures were getting torn

and shredded. The long list, in

turn, of shattered and twisted 

American boys and men, soon to

have their minds indelibly touched

with process, routine, following

order, commands from fools, turning

on each other, drug use, Godless

sexuality, frustration, anger. The

thinking of a violent workplace

burned into day-after-day skulls.

-

I'd gone from a bouncing ball to just 

a ball. There was little left around me; 

kids were screaming, throwing bags 

of blood at cops, cops pushing back 

with billy clubs, and some with drawn 

guns. (I wanted to draw guns and begin

 handing them out too all I saw).

Parts of the cities burned, Newark, 

Brooklyn, but it really had little to do 

with the 'War,' since mostly, it was all

just a general malaise that was ripping 

everything apart. Mini-skirted, crazy 

girls with their knickers showing at 

every turn. White Jews playing at 

being black revolutionaries, monkey 

boys beating people on the head for 

20 cents. Every value in the world 

had fallen apart. The United State 

of Dismantlement.

-

You know how people say 'If you 

can't tell a whole truth, then don't

tell a half lie, tell a whole one.'  

Meaningless gibberish probably, 

yeah. but people live by these kinds 

of things, A stitch in time saves nine. 

Save it for a rainy day. You don't miss

your water 'til your well runs dry.

That's one of the first things a person 

needs to get over along the way to 

growing up. Those pithy, little

phrases.  The fact that most people 

are full of it, all, crap and distortion. 

In Britain's wartime, and I guess in 

ours here too, the phrase attached to 

lots of things was 'for the duration.' 

Like restaurants that would remain 

closed at night, 'for the duration.'

Or, an added surtax, 'for the duration.' 

It meant to say, 'as long as this bullshit 

war goes on.' Impossible stuff, like

'No eggs will be scrambled, for the 

duration.'

-

I had a form of brain fever, and I

knew it. Down on lower Broadway was

the Draft Board. I hadn't registered,

and had no intention of doing so.

There was some sort of follow-up,

to my parent's house in Avenel,

about my absence and current

whereabouts. My mother bagged

me, evidently telling them, clearly

enough, where I might be found.

Procedural normalcy, and a respect

for Authority, on her part I guess.

Two schmucks came a got me one

day. Just like that. I ended up in

this really gross, pale green, draft

office, being interrogated and

lectured to. I had no idea what

was going on, but judging by

what I saw I realized I was in a

real den of iniquity  -  the most

pathetic-looking group of military

dweezels I'd ever seen; some

uniformed, others note. The office

ladies looked like they hadn't seen

or had a man in 500 years. Drudges.

The whole place need a good reaming.

-

They finally decided that, in

actuality, I wasn't their case, but a

New Jersey case. I had to sign

some papers, answer a bunch of

stupid, ignorant, questions, and

ouch by signature that I report to

the draft board in Perth Amboy

on such and such a date and time.

Penalty of law and all that BS.

These NY guys, right under their 

noses too, had no idea what was

really happening over at 11th street.

As far as Vietnam protest stuff, etc.

If they did, they'd have probably

jailed me. I stayed quiet, saying

little and volunteering nothing.

A week or so later I took a train

and got myself to Perth Amboy.

They decided, on a dime, I was

 cannon-fodder  good enough

for them, and the next thing I knew

I was on my way to Broad Street 

Newark. There was an induction

center in the Federal Building.

By this time it was about 1pm

and, running out of ideas but 

always quick to the draw, I said

'Whoah!'  -  in a roomful of

new inductees being given the

oath after re-clothing their

bodies from the condition of

near nakedness and the bend-over,

cough, and testicle inspection stuff.

-

My selected route out was to feign

madness (feign?). I said I need to see

a psychiatrist, pronto!! I wasn't about

to oathify myself into nothing, sorry.

Sent a floor or two upstairs, I got

3 psychiatrists at once; a bank

of them instead of one. I forget

the entire procedure, but what it

came down to (and at that point it

was as easy as pie. Acting experience,

you know).  I acted psycho, well
enough anyway. I said the first thing
I'd do after being instructed in the
use of a gun would be to turn it
immediately onto the person who'd
just taught me. I neared the large
plate window glass as I spoke.
These guys got freaky. I was
dismissed. In fact, they gave me 
a pass for a rail-ride home!
In about 3 weeks I got a 4-F
deferment card in the mail to
Avenel. My clinical condition was
'Anxiety Phobia,' for which, the
note said, I'd be receiving further
referential paperwork to begin
'treatment.' Nothing ever came, or
anyway nothing ever reached me.
Maybe Mom finally did a good deed
and heaved it in the trash.