RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,082
(too much old tired noise)
An interesting concept to me
has always been how, in a very
ordinary sense, most people are
of a one-mind thought pattern.
Now, let me go on : I say in a
'very ordinary' sense because,
in a zen sense, which none of
these people possess, such a
one-minded devotion to life is
seen as nearly perfect. But I do
not mean that; I mean instead
how the most ordinary people
think of one thing and just assume
then that it should be for everyone
else too. Nothing more is said. There is
no daring or sense of try, or adventure.
"My yard and that yard are stripped,
cut, and bare, and then of course so
should everyone else's be." The more
real thought of living freely and of
various people having various ideas
about various things (that's called,
or used to be, American Freedom),
never crosses their minds. What then
are taxes for? I can have my yard,
or any yard, besieged by mole-men
on the prowl, and then forced and
captured into conforming with the
rest of the idiot row of bare and
barren houses? I ask you, what gives?
What crosses their diseased Sobiesky
minds? So you end up with vigilante
squads who run around town looking
at other people's yards and citing the
various supposed 'violations,' until
they turn others in and the town sends
in an outside landscaper crew of
Mexican midgets to rip the yard to
shreds and poison and defoliate
the same surroundings that the town
then goes on bragging about. Nature.
Preservation, etc. All the dick-dangling
stuff that councilmen and mayors around
these parts lap up. The town then bills
the homeowner, against their wishes
or not, puts a lien on the property for
the bill, (I know of two instances in
the last short bit of time, at tunes of
near 5400 dollars each) and then
tells the 'homeowner' not to worry.
Why the town does all this by going
'outside' to hire and use regular
commercial people and not the
town's own trucks and crews and
equipment, of which there are
plenty, is as follows, and this adds
to the demented motivation: The
town itself gets 18% back on
each instance, (of the bill presented
by the outside landscaper), plus God
only knows what other deals are
implemented to give the contracts
'out.' I would almost guarantee it's
all as dirty as a donkey's butt.
You'll never know, and I'll never
find out. But it's a criminal
enterprise; just like all the rest
of the smut around here. Council
men, and women, don't have to be
whores; they just have to be
Councilpeople.
-
The local American adventure, in
town after town, most everywhere,
has basically been turned to shit. The
long histories of abuse and malfeasance
and criminality that we read about from
the day's of New York City's unfolding,
from crooked cops to the Tweed Ring
imbroglios, (that's William Marcy
Tweed, of old), are NOT just ancient
histories and stories of the past 300
years. No, ma'am. That's all of NOW,
and still underway everywhere. I could
never walk down any NYC street and
not think of the crime or the corruption
that had seeded it. Over the long years
of the past, cops covered up killings, cops
and politicians protected the whorehouses,
the gin mills, and the illegal groggeries.
Committees enforced their crooked
plans for streets and zoning, swill-milk
distribution, dead babies, drugs, homicides.
and paid-off waterfront crime. And
everyone knew it. Nothing was ever
done. The lynched black guy would be
cut down from the tree, and street-life
would go on. Actually, in NYC it wasn't
even a tree. They used to hang from
lamp-posts. Madame Restell; illegal
abortions; deaths in prisons; things so
rank and disgusting that the very pigs
roaming freely on the streets squealed.
Eating garbage, fouling waters, soiling
the corners and pathways. Jacob Riis,
the reformer, was a very late arrival to
any of this, and thank the good lord he
showed up as he did.
-
I'm actually already pretty sick of people
apologizing for the garbage-in-retrospect
they all now seem so conscious of. It's
all crap, and a revamped fitting of the
garments of the dead and dying world
they've created and inhabited. No
one ever really apologizes for the
things they should : lies, desecration,
misrepresentation, false promises,
disgusting deals and runarounds, the
passing of edicts and laws to promote
evil. Any person I ever knew never
apologized for anything. It was just
already done, and no panty-waisted
mental midget was about to walk
about second-guessing his own life
and form. Now, here, as I see it, the
shifting winds of deportment change
every 18 minutes and some schmuck or
anther already set up to apologize for
something done only last week. Well
pardon my soiled pants, you big
anal-retentive failure, but where
you been all your life?
-
I was with a guy once who was shot
dead the very next day. I never knew
what the deal was, what he was involved
with, none of that. It was just that quick.
I was told, I admit, later on that he was
killed for 'telling the truth.' That was
both mysterious and strange. I don't
think there's a law against that yet,
the telling of the truth, but probably
I should start waiting. Another time,
walking around the corner, I came
across a body bag being slung down
from a window some floors up. It
too turned out to be someone I knew;
a guy I'd did things with and taken
rides with. They got to blame that
one on drugs, but I still never know.
They pretty much, in such cases,
can say whatever they want. He was
from somewhere else, some far-off
state, working as a crew guy on some
project or another in the city. The kind
of person he was, heck, they all were,
anything could have transpired. Both
drugs and AIDS were rampant back
then, and always at the ready as good,
fall-back reasons for things. He got
shipped back home, later, still dead
(joking), and someone had come out
here to ID and accompany the body.
And whatever else is needed at death.
I forget if it was his father, or another
male family member.
-
The mind-numbing predictability of that
one-thought crap I started out with here
is torturous. It can kill too, and it can
subsume any intention into a whole
pallet of trouble. Here's another example:
On the local page here, Avenel, there's
this one guy - doesn't even live here
any more - but he manages and is
constantly on the page. His one-trick
pony note? Always firemen. Fire stuff.
Old days about fire stuff. All sorts of
family and town memories, about
fire stuff. That's cool as it goes, but
at the same time it precludes any
expansion of consciousness or growth
of an outlook. Being a fireman is, well,
being a fireman. A choice, a selection.
So get over. Preaching always and only
to that choir just makes, now, too much
old, tired noise. Not much difference
exists between 'one-think' and 'mass-mind,'
and they are both equally destructive.
No comments:
Post a Comment