RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,150
(aliens, all)
Wanting to get somewhere
different, I often let my mind get
ahead of myself. It was always
about that time that hunger
usually called : there was this
step-up place on 8th Street,
up maybe 10 steps; a little
elevated room, with windows.
A person could sit there and
look out. I used to order a
25-cent potato knish, and
something to go with it - I
forget what - to drink. It
was a cinch. A large and
filling knish, and a place
to linger. East, along the
street, was the Studio School,
but a block off; and in the
other direction, 10 or 12
doors or so, was Electric
Lady Studios - that place
started by Hendrix, but
which he never really saw
to fruition, mainly because
he died. It was pretty big-time
for a while, and lots of people
and groups recorded there.
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I was usually pretty tired, or
bummed out over one thing
or another. Being a regular,
or normal, guy was never my
style, and little things used to
irk me. Like, back in Avenel,
my 'girlfriend' always expected
a phone call at 7:30 on Weds.
nights. No big deal, right? But
sometimes, even as much as I
cared for her, it was the last
thing I wanted to do. You can't
imagine how I disliked, and
still do, the phone. I don't even
have a phone of my own, and
won't. Like stupidity, and like,
now, vaccinations, it's one of
those things foisted on everyone
so that now it's considered an
obligation. 'Up yours,' on that
one, I say. My life has never
had a place for a phone, and
won't - there's nothing more
bleary than idiots talking end
over end to others, sight unseen.
If I had told you that the mass
of Humankind would now be
doing that - fictionalizing an
imagined person at the other
end, talking, gesticulating,
and emoting, verbally, as
they strolled along, you'd
have told me I was crazy.
Then, and now! But it's
all strangely illusionary,
though it's all been
indoctrinated through to
people as the 'way' things
are. A bolstered and specific
reality. This all might have part
to do with my being an artist.
I don't much accept the path
of others and I shy away from
observing the prescriptions
of them too - basically I
believe in nothing, and
understand that - beneath
everything - is a lie. A very
substantive lie by which
we have accepted and built
up our stupid world, calling
it Society, and what's worse,
calling it right.
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As an artist, I demand the
picture. I need someone in
front of me, so I can read,
in real-terms, their faces and
their fabrics, their shirts and
shoes, their being and their
attentiveness as they speak
to me. It's a basic premise of
contact to me. Eyes and
expressions. Words alone are
too manipulative, especially
in the insincere and false
manner that idiot-phone-jive
allows. That's all hype, and
that's how people get taken -
the same sort of fake and
off-key indoctrination to a
state of affairs that is but is
not, that is not but only is
said that it is. That's why
schools, as one instance,
are so baseless. A person's
family and children, taken
from him or her, and given
over to the falsities of what
the 'State' teaches them
through its own form of a
social and mass indoctrination.
-
I'm not saying anyone here has
to believe me, but I can easily
back up all that I say: Two
simple examples, just from
today: The Government, once
again giving away tons of cheesy,
meaningless, money, in the name
of a decreed 'virus' emergency,
and one Senator - seeing how
egregiously out of line the bill
itself actually is - all sorts of
built-in giveaways and money
hand-outs to others' (Demos')
pet projects, money, causes, and
concerns - and HE, the Senator,
becomes the issue to be chucked
around like a football, and NOT
the Bill or the Senate and House
mis-appropriations themselves.
And then, once the 'Government
has finally seemed to get its
vaccination machinery in order, it
announces other 'strains' of that
same virus, needing further
research and study, and new
ways preventativeness! They
can't even allow people to live
in peace, as the indoctrination
just goes on and on.
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That's how indoctrination works.
As on a basketball court, it's a
feint, a fake, a quick-move to
set the opponent off while the
drive is done. I used to be able
to see all that, even in its most
primitive stages, from my small
perch with my 25-cent meal. But
I passed anger long ago, and I
replaced it with detachment, and
with the realization that all things
are valueless and without any
truth. Everything in the God-
almighty world went by me on
Eighth Street (that's the preferred
reference to it, in Village terms;
everywhere else, oddly, the number
of the street is used as digits, but
on 8th, it's usually 'Eighth,' - once,
in fact, known as Main Street of
Greenwich Village; never exactly
true, that, either).
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I never knew what I was or what
I wanted, just that I knew, all along
the way, that I'd flubbed every
chance I had at anything. Even with
my own family - no one ever quite
understood that I wasn't really one
of them, spoke another language,
and held all with many other
references for the things they held
as most commonplace. It was always
there - a distance, a gulf. I could
never make it up, nor bridge it. The
indoctrinaire spirit tells people that
they are great, have reached high
achievements, and ought to be
acclaimed. It's all crap. Nothing's
lasting, nor of any value, and it's
all as ephemeral as spit. But no
one will ever tell you that -
instead they attempt to instill
falsehoods, and structure around
all things a framework by which
their artificial ('working') edifice
is held up. People slave and die
for career, money, and success.
And then the floor opens up, and
they too are gone.
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We're just like pod people, the
sci-fi weirdos who get 'dropped'
to Earth, are half-helpless until
full maturity, and who must,
ever 16 hours or so, retreat,
settle into a comfort pod, and
recharge; becoming selfless,
leaving their bodies for 7 or 8
hours while their lifeless pod
goes dormant and they travel
forth into the larger-ends of
the other realms - where none
of those lies are in effect, and
where things fly around, lose
shape, talk, and transform.
Then the lifeless pod body is
again re-entered, fresh and new,
but not within human concepts,
and the paltry alien-pod arises
again. You, my friends, are
long-ago indoctrinated against
seeing any of this. The fine
Government you boast of calls
it 'Science' and claims it must
be followed. Science : mass
destruction, nuclear warfare,
death, and dissolution. We
are all aliens.
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