RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,142
(the buster that counts)
This chapter will veer, and
it will run a little differently;
the difference between the
nice, rough, grumble of an
old machine, versus the
current paddy-whack tremor
of a noiseless Tesla. I'm the
first one, if you please.
-
A certain class of people have
taken our country away from us.
Probably the same class which
picnics on dog feces, or has group
parties of naked primaries down
at the lake, calling it their 'civic
and meritorious duty.' They're
all swine. They probably, in
the same vein, life tastelesly,
all across this country, in places
like Metuchen or Westfield or
along the higher grounds at
St. Louis or Mansfield. It's all
the same. They're aggrieved,
and they absolve themselves of
guilt by taking up (by mouth) the
causes of the distressed or the
downtrodden - as long as those
same distressed or downtrodden
don't move in on them or begin
their shopping-hordes training at
Whole Foods or Trader Joe's. Like
under that little bridge, in Philadelphia,
you can se the snapshot freely; just
like there: the Timbuktu Americanski
youth in their real find garb, made to
look like magic, eating flavored bars of
sun-dried granola or honey-drenched
pin-strips, while the two black guys
under the bridge, by now mean and
surly, are left to languish, starve and
rot away in real life. 'Don't give me
none of that, it might be catching.'
Italians in Venice have word jokes
they play on unsuspecting, stupid,
American tourists: Asked, in an
inevitably twangy voice, "How do
you get around here?" (meaning
transit, etc.), they reply, "You take a
Tintoretto." Rushing to the windows,
to see the passing taxi-boats, "Oh
look! A Granola!!"
-
I at first cured my own sickness, and
then I got sick again. And the only
thing I can say now is that thank God
I escaped Vietnam training by those
awful Selective Service creeps who
hunted me down. I would have surely
killed them with the first turn of my
trained firearm. They taught me to
speak and holler and yell, by that
experience : 'All life is borrowed
time!'
-
When I think back on my life, I have
to wonder, 'How long was any of this
anyway? Just a quick moment, that
seems long? Or a long time that
actually went so fleetingly along
that now I face its end and all of its
conclusions too - at time I thought
would never really come, something
that a person could just keep putting
off as the occasional, 'Oh, well, maybe
later.' Hmmm? Were they really a long
time, or just a string of moments, each
later string and beaded, like a mixture
that kept changing some again each
time though of again? And what attracts
so many people....to others and to
each other? Is that 'connection' merely
the avoidance (attempted), of Death?
'Death is a pin that fixes the moment.
Any one life is a moment.'
-
I used to scorn lots of things. Now I
merely scorn that which I cannot afford,
which ends up as pretty much the very
same thing.
-
People on the whole really are pretty
stupid. The natural world around them
affords them everything, but what do
they do? They destroy it. The plant
Foxglove is used to make what is
called Digitalis, sometimes also
called Digoxin. Concocted mysteriously
by the Pharma industry, there are only
very few 'people' who would even make
the connection. Like the Willow and
willow bark for the concoction 'aspirin,'
it's all been taken from us, and no one
cares. Like the coastline of most any
ocean anywhere, or many riverbanks,
for that matter - off-limits, owned and
controlled by others, and, in addition
to that, made rank and polluted. Does
any ordinary, law-abiding American
notice, or give a hoot? Nope.
-
Just before this country was taken from
us, let me recollect; I can tell you a few
salient facts. I was walking through Tribeca,
about the Thursday after Election Day,
when, that year, Trump won. (This is ALL
true, by the way). I thought little of it,
having not a care about Trump or the
Clinton lady, both same sides of different
assholes, so to speak, but apparently the
rest of NYC was in a deep and furious
mourning. Up to me walk Alexandra
Pelosi (yes, Nancy Pelosi's daughter).
She's an ersatz 'journalist' of sorts, now
with HBO or something; lives on 10th
street, with and husband and 2 kids. Did
then, anyway. She falls into step beside
me, walking downtown, and starts saying
stupid stuff like can she have a few words
with me, I look like someone who maybe
was concerned about the election, could
I say a few words, better yet would I, on
camera, for her recite (read) from the
Declaration of Independence, and the
Preamble of the Constitution, blah, blah,
for a documentary she'd just been assigned
by HBO. I shrugged; said sure why not,
she gave me some papers to sign, disclaimers
and such about use of my voice, etc. In the
back of my mind, what was going on was
'What the hell is this? What's with these
people?' She was real coy, never letting
on about anything. I said 'Alexandra, I
need more info, what's this about?' At
the same time, oddly enough (it was
only ten days at best AFTER the
election), there was a big, black girl
tailing us, wearing an 'IMPEACH'
shirt with Trump's face on it. I said, in
essence, 'What the fuck? This guy's not
even in office and you're impeaching?'
I wanted to rip that black girl's throat
open - maybe to check for an Adam's
apple, but I forget. I thought Alexandra
Pelosi was a piece of shit. And still do.
It was at that moment, early November,
2016, that it became apparent to me,
and I reiterate here, this is a TRUE
occurrence, that manipulations were
already underway to take our 'country'
from us; New York City being the
prima-facie evidence of the sort of
gutter-snip sand-devil undertaking. If
someone like Alexandra Pelosi (who by
the way talked a shit-game, was a snide
piece of crap, and left me flat after my
reading of what she wanted, for a sickly
group of tourists and their tour guide
who had gathered around the fountain
at City Hall Park, wherein she'd had me
idly sitting for some 20 minutes waiting
for more of her clamor), can be given
the 'responsibility' to disseminate
disinformation to the American
public, through the sanctified media
AND her damsel-in-distress lousy
mother, then all is really lost.
-
How is it they say it? 'If I knew then what
I know now?' I'd have wrestled her to the
ground, and her fat, flaccid cameraman,
and puked in their faces. It was all just
the sort of conniption-bullshit that has
taken us over, destroyed our country,
and given me about 30 total assholes
to have to deal with here. To my mind,
if I add up all the twigs that were
presented to me, I get a tree. I only
write about real things, and things
that have occurred to me. This,
so early on, now stands perfectly
as evidence of a conspiracy.
-
My musings are terrible. Nothing is
worth a dime. I'm as dead as dung.
And anyone with a differing
opinion can go straight to Hell.
We have been kidnapped. Lies
and misrepresentations rule us.
And we do nothing.
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