13,047. RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,141

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,141

(a real dead-end roulette)

Evanescent never meant

anything to me. The whole

world in a sense, is that. One

time I said something like

that to someone I knew, and

the response was curious  - 

because I couldn't connect

it to anything, and it was

completely untrue besides.

What he'd said was, 'You're

the type of guy, right, who,

before he does anything,

looks it up first and reads

all about it.' Now, the

current Internet age makes

that maybe have a little

sense, but when he said this

it was 1967 and all it meant

was books and look-ups in

that old, musty, scholastic

manner. I thought it was a

very odd comment. Still do.

But, it having never left

me, it now often crops up,

mentally, as I'm reading

about something or  -  yes  -

looking up something.

-

Is that a fundamental misread

of life? Was there something

about me that made such a

manner evident? In actuality,

I never did anything of the

sort he mentioned, which

led to problems and mistakes -

for instance, a brake job, say,

done blindly. Learning on the

job is cool, yes, but learning a

brake job 'on the job' on your

own vehicle can be awfully

chancy. I never even referred

to a Chilton's or a Floyd

Clymer (two notable names

of 1960's repair manuals).

-

One time I had a car that needed 

a part  -  it was an odd car, and

an odd part. Once again, it was

to be learning on the job. I 

determined what I needed,

through the JC Whitney catalogue,
(back then Whitney's was a crazy
and cheap catch all for all sorts
of auto parts, and gimmicks too,
out of Chicago, started long ago
by some Warshefsky guy, I think.
Besides parts and gee-gaws, they
had weird things, like pour-in fluids
that claimed you'd get 100 miles
per gallon, long-life miracle oils
and lubricants; things like that)

and got myself down to Charlie's

Sugar Bowl  -  which was a sort

of candy store and fountain place

at the corner of Avenel Street and'

St. George Avenue. It had a bank

of phone booths, wooden ones, at

the rear. I took a handle of change

and quarters, and dialed Chicago,

but the Whitney people, placed my

order, and in some number of days

had what I needed. I went at it,

again without looking anything up,

and it worked. It began me to 

thinking about things of that nature:

We all walk  through storms; some

need perfect directions about how

to walk through gales, counter the

wind, stay the course. Others just

do that. I was in the latter category.

So I never knew where this person

had gotten his comment from  -  

some sort of observation about me,

or a personal impression garnered 

from, well, from 'what' I didn't

know. Strange how we can be

misrepresented.

-

I've always gotten annoyed, as

well, by  the way things move

around on me. Keys get lost,

combs, even hats. I obviously

have, for this to happen, too many

things to keep track off and a now

slightly failing old-mind which

often simply takes longer to 

retrieve things, more time for 

the memory of names and places.

I often fault the Human Creator

for things like that, after my years

and years of church and school

crap pushing all that 'ordered

universe' stuff  -  yet having it

dis-proved at any moment by the

breakdown-anarchy of old life. 

Lot's of items: Why do teeth  cease

regenerating? A new set every five

or six years would be a big help.

All that calcium and stuff through

the body's system, a few loose teeth

a year, and replacements growing in.

That would seem pretty sensible to

me. Eyes that start failing? That's

certainly a flaw. Any number of

the shortcomings of the system

as aging progresses, seems to me,

could have been better designed to

produce a finer product than the

jumble-heap of broken bones we

end up with. Or is the story all

wrong  -  we were never meant to

be a mirror of God, not made in 

Its image at all. Where does 

perfection end? Why were we

not equipped with it, so as to better

attain the hopes, acts, and aspirations

we're supposedly created for? 

Were we designed for the

doomsday within us?

-

Certainly then, if so, life's a crummy

deal and the Maker couldn't have been

so hot after all.

-

I get sore about a million things, really

sore. My dog has to die? Now? Why?

All that love and affection, down the 

drain. Wife, family, friends  -  always 

at a half-distanced removal; to me

that's painful and makes no sense. If

I'd been God, I'd have had a blissful

and complete understanding between

people, each person, through the simple

eye contact of being together. And a

perpetual-motion adherence between

people, of good things and a sort of'

blissful love or concern for each other  -  

most certainly then we'd have no need

of wars and revolutions, or the miserable

wrecks of banditos in the streets like we

have right now. maybe there'd even not

be a word, then, for 'destruction.' I

never did get what God was about, and

that always pained me dearly too.

When you set out to learn something,

you never really learn anything. When

someone sets out to teach you something,

they teach you nothing at all. It's all

a  negativity; a real dead-end roulette.