At the last election of such moment, i lived in Uruguay and was finishing the finest drawing i’ve ever made. My friends were renegade bohemians and very progressive Anti-Capitalists led by a benevolently maniacal grandson carpenter of an SS Commandant from the Third Reich whose last days were lived in infamy, save the loving affection he held for my dear friend Friedmann Mauch the genius Organ Builder of South America whose singular ambition has been to accomplish the greatest number of Medio Tangue Asados on record for the Guinness Book of Records for this planet in any given year. Tell me again how my life has been wasted and i will introduce you to the crones who visit next door to where i now live, so they can cackle at your impudence as they may do mine, if i’m even remembered tomorrow. Pray with me now: that Herr Friedmann Mauch survives this plague, and if not that, then his widow the famed poet/activist Luz Del Alba Nicola Dinperio is well loved and cared for.
Though i began a full two hours earlier then yesterday, i'm only now on the 2nd paragraph at 4:44 pm. It would seem dame time is laughing at my efforts to measure my output against a tick Herr Einstein was never sure whether it be wavelength or particle and here i sit in my vanity+ attempting to measure it in alphabetic symbols representing words representing sentences representing ideas in a language which may, or may not be familiar to you - does that or does that not describe vanity++¿? It matters not much to me, the last electio night i spent like this, i was again alone. My neighbor as Herr Mauch speculated was an cocaine addled Argentinian who delighted in ratcheting up the volume on his TV as the hours progressed into late evening/early morn just as the harried off-duty cop/landlord in the Pensione in which i found a bed sank deeper and deeper into troubled sleep.
World traveled-sophisticate i fancied myself to be at the time had no idea my neighbor the wannabe street artist making a living inhaling aerosol paintings of planets on horizons i realize now must have seemed very real to him, as unreal as his volume control at 2:30 am on our shared speaker-like plenum wall and its 14 foot ceilings, but that was then; this is now. Herr Mauch was a tobacco enthusiast and i willingly ran back down that rabbit hole to nowhere, for it was winter and all socializing took place inside, which after a decade hiatus from tobacco and alcohol, like most things bad - seemed like a good idea at the time. Hours of barbecue, remarkable live songs of that nation coupled with copious tinto rojo and laughing women - ¿what could go wrong?
6 years later i’m wheezing like i’d never ran a marathon 15 years ago; drinking like a fish for cowardice about realities i publicly proclaim are resolved and am alone because my shaggy exterior and aged frame no longer excite the erotic, but biologically practical fairer sex. Better to learn now than on my death bed. I am not sure what steps to take next, and am entirely reluctant to slough that decision off on the results of an election so fraught with deceit and machinations of an economic class i am beginning to wonder whether my vow of militant pacifism is worthy of - i guess we all have our doubts.
At this turn, i’m sort of okay with passing through my existential transition into the next dimension not knowing - mostly because there is fuck all i can do to know differently. Sort of like the imbalance the ruling class has enacted just prior to this worldwide referendum on planetary leadership. I would have no problem whatsoever ever voting my neighbors to my west as leaders of the planet for a century, while possessing a reciprocal measure of skepticism toward my neighbors to my east. For the record, “therein lies the rub” - that same confidence i bestow is of a myopic and largely uninformed nature which in no way begins to account for the complexity of the lives of those i mistrust vs the lives i believe i do trust - one is pretty much the same as the other. There is no one vs another that does not resonate with doubt and confusion - we’ve reached a state of evolution where we are all d.j. _rump, or none of us are he. I wish i could put it more kindly, but there ya’ have it · my best guess.
jts 02/11/2020
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