12,760. RUDIMENTS, pt. 1035

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1035

(soundtracks to bomb by)

Dazed and confused meant

little to me; just words. When

that whole Led Zepplin thing

broke, my friend Bill was all

over it, blasting that stuff loud

on his radio. It used to drive

me nuts. I couldn't fathom

what the heck they were

attempting to do, and when

I heard it referred as an old,

American, blues-based music,

that really broke the bank.

The first of their songs that

got big-time, man I hated it  -

'Gonna' give you every inch

of my love...' That weird

guitar/feedback thing, or

whatever it was, that kept

breaking the song with some

bizarre descending noise. I

was just unable to grab any

of that. And then it all went

from bad to worse anyway.

I always then did try to keep

the noisy and the infractuous

away from me. None of it

ever attracted me, and it never

came back up as a subject.
Whole lotta' love, for sure.

Bye-bye Ozzie too.

-

Good thing was I was really

able to leave all that stuff alone

and keep it out of my life. I

remember my girlfriend's

high school graduation and

prom song being In a Gadda

da Vida, or something like that,

by some group I forget now.

First hearing that song, outside

of any school connection too,

my thought was What? How

could they? That would have

been by then, for her, 1969,

May. So much now has moved

along, and that really does look

laughable, but back then that

song was breaking-edge music.

Everything seemed capitulation.

All of the normal, old society

had just rolled over and let the

new things take their places

in open space and open time :

teachers with sideburns, Nehru

jackets, weird beads and the rest.

It all became shameless mimcry.

I was way gone by then, yes,

but it was all apparent  -  even

the usual staid and geeky guys,

like the Rat Pack, took up with

all that peace and love crap,

turtle-necks and love beads.

-

It's all too difficult for me to

explain now  -  because things

aren't done in the manner any

more. The world has opened and

drained away too : Nothing means

anything now and everything is

diluted too. It took on endgame

and dissolution. Back then, for a

moment, there still really were

strange and scary things, and it

was all amplified by the circus

of Vietnam. Stateside, it all

looked so different. It's funny

but how the guys who went

over there and did their duties

and fighting and the rest (not

going into that all again here)

they all look back now too, as

old, bitter dudes now, and still

get all cranked up and mad about

some weird 'lack of support' from

people like me, or us, back here.

Yet, because they were there, in

the middles of their own anguishes,

they can't understand either what

we here were going through. To

flip it over, quite frankly, we weren't

getting any support from their sorts,

and they'd fucked it up here for us.

By going along as they did. By

adding to that shitty war-effort.

They were NOT here, so of course

they won't understand me, and

whatever hostility then comes

forth from them is merely a lack

of reasoning on their part. Life

is like that sometimes. I had

my own brutal war underway,

thank you much, and thank

all your pumping, loud, killer

rock-music too. I hated it all.

Soundtracks to bomb by.

-

'This is the end, my only friend,

the end...' Have you ever noticed

how that was used in Apocalypse

Now in the middle of the film, and

not the end? Pretty weird. This is

not the end, my friend. What gives?

Maybe that was a hopeful symbolism?

When Jim Morrison pulled out his

dick on stage in Florida, at a concert

(well, at least it's said he did; I'm sure

no one could see it, Lizard-King or

not), and then got arrested and

dragged away and the concert

stopped, he was already pretty

much a goner, a dead ghost

walking, and that 'Part 1' of the

era of love, peace, and bliss

was headed for the dumper.

It was, of course, replaced just

as quickly by the likes of 'Part

2' of the same crap  -  Cowsills

to Eagles to Strawberry Alarm

Clock  -  and the rest of that

rhythmic cult ended up paying

big money to go see Oh Calcutta!

on Broadway, for the nudity alone.

Whoever it was had structured this

world had sure made some massive

miscalculations, God or not, and

left some major editing undone.

-

Yes, we had some major wars going

on at this side too. The whole place

was flipping over. I became a war

veteran as well  -   but no one would

vouch that side of things - every

thirty feet in NYC there was some

agitation underway. By the time the

new clocks struck I was knee-deep in

things; which brings us, in its way, right

back to the genesis of these writings.

I had to flee. The farther away, the 

better. Not having things ever

really catching up to me was a

fortunate blessing. For me.

And for the cows, who became

my new best friends. Have you

ever seen the Paul McCartney

album cover for 'Ram?'

That was me.

-
In a sort of symbolic way I made
that image and sound representative
of me : Earth. Animals. Back to Nature.
All that crud of the early '70's. Mostly,
what I knew was that if my backstory
caught up to me up there, in those crazy
hills and hollows, it wouldn't fly too well.
Admiral Halsey notified me? 
I don't think so.
-
Now we filer into something
ludicrously and poorly different: 
Corporate country, industrial farming, 
Profit and loss statements, chemically
induced seed-plants and production
limits, people wonder why we're lost,
dazed and confused. There's not a
family farm left  -  no little fences,
no little farmyards, nothing.
Goin' to California, with an
aching in my heart? Don't
think so. The Central Valley
doesn't want you either,
and the Hell's Angels
have left San Berdo.