RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,128
(what a world of things to see!)
I've always run into one
or anther situations that
have caused me problems,
mostly because I'd avoided,
or tried avoiding, them until
it was far too late. That's a
very problematic approach,
though one I am quite prone
to. The professional then
saying to me, 'I wish I had
known about this sooner.'
It's the sort of thing that's
just plain, poor, behavior -
and it's me all over.
-
A thing about old timers, I'm
told anyway, is their strain of
self-reliance; meaning they
never went anywhere for help
or assistance - medical or
otherwise. Of course, one
look around old cemeteries
will show the frequencies
of infant death, youth death,
early ages of demise all
around. Granted, there are
some exceptions to this as
well; from an age when 50
was considered old. One
ting never covered was the
means of death: accidents,
falls, fires, and the rest were
far more prevalent; though
we ourselves now have
balanced all our 'safety'
betterments out by auto
deaths and crashes. Who
really knows? One has to
ask oneself, how have we
improved by this? I'm not
sure there's an answer - the
more we delve into improving,
it seems the more people ail.
I've never seen a hundred and
five year old person, in rea life.
I guess they're out there; as much
as I've only seen a few 250
year old things or older, I guess
they too are out there, scattered.
-
I can sense things running
down, yet I insist on telling
myself it's all either a momentary
aberration, or something I've
just imagined. Between those
two points, there's really no
middle ground and - because
of that - no sense in dwelling
on it. Having to watch others
die was difficult enough; heck,
watching my dog die was one
thing I'll never want to do again;
the human perspective stains
all of that, so differently.
-
Mostly, I guess, the more I do
alone, the better it all is. For me;
room to think and clarify. Space
in which not to have to respond.
I never went crazy, but nether
did I ever go anywhere to which
you had to be crazy to go. Or get
in. See my logic? Too much of
an indwelling. Now, I sit and I
watch snow. That's like perfect
meditation stuff - each day's
airborne snow is different, and
- yes - it mostly is in the air every
day, even if it just a half hour. But,
like a painter's light water wash,
it can alter everything - run to
whites, and round all shapes.
It invites metaphysics and great,
deep thoughts.
-
A big thing up here is junk; old
stuff, even houses and cars.
Sometimes things of that nature
are scattered about everywhere -
easy to see and easier to find.
To me, that's paradise. Where
I used to live, by contrast, all
things were rendered neutral -
plane'd out, made generic,
stripped and cleansed of any
part of the real. It wasn't even
'utility' - though people thought
that. It certainly wasn't aesthetics.
There's more of an aesthetic value
in the thousand things cast-off
with a country mile or two than
ever in some flighty-flung and
star-struck faggy museum. The
way old paint takes on its patina;
fades and blisters, peels or even
disappears the ways of the old
rubber on tires and wheels;
steering wheels that weather
and crack, with that old, clear
plastic they used to have,
breaking up into segments;
the frost within old safety,
which eventually just turns
opaque. I am dazzled by old
gauges and meters, dials and
arrows. Cracked lettering, old
numbers and instructional plaques
and labels. The ancient tilt of
old tractors and worn-out farm
implements, as they get dumped
to the wayside after their last use.
What a world! Things to see!
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