Today is my sister’s birthday and on another blog i’ve posted a sonnet i wrote years ago, now she is dying from Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP); we communicate through multigenerational trauma, and texting. Yesterday in conversation with our younger brother i had to voice out loud the very real understanding that my presence in the upcoming distribution of our mother’s ashes in the desert of her youth would not be welcome - how does one acknowledge such pernicious antipathy ‘cheerfully’¿ · I share this extremely personal snippet of existence, because it tracks with another time in our lives at a family intervention’ promoted by our mother, i said to my sister ‘my sense is that you don’t like me very much.’ to which she replied, ’No, I don’t.’ During this same intervention where we were ostensibly tasked with clearing the air, our mother described my sister as ‘brutally honest’ and myself as ‘suffering’ more than my siblings.
Another passing moment from the ’touchy-feely’ 60’s, long on potential - ripe for the plucking by those less scrupulous amongst us. Keep in mind during this same period ‘Brown and Williams’ were knowingly murdering, by way of their Nicotine Delivery Vehicle, countless clean lunged voters; legislators were consciously poisoning one of the densest vegetation biomass climes on the planet, because it had been deemed the most efficacious way to gain access to an mineral rich terrain, while containing the red menace of socialism/communism/anti-capitalism. Old Money at this time was interbreeding with the rapidly mutating Aristocracy cum Oligarchy; the fossil fuel cheeses were in the process of expunging from the public record any reference to carbon fuel and deterioration of the atmosphere vis-a-vis breathable air, and computer pundits were only beginning to envision the enhanced capacity for social manipulation via ‘digital technology’.
The arms industry in whose service i financed decades of ‘therapy’ and acquired while still affordable my bonafides as an ‘educated man’ - though it took me 20 years compared to the normal 4 years to graduate from college: 1972-1992. I was ill suited for a life as teacher that my psychiatrist glibly proposed one early morning session, anymore than i was aptly suited to carve stone for the balance of my life, because a 90 year-old charismatic Spanish stone-cutter patted my oh so lonely noggin, like the puppy dog i was in NYC at the ripe old age of 19-20; l’enfant terrible·scholarship anomaly @ the Art Students League of NYC - alum to Jose dé Creeft, (legend in my own mind) super dooper veterinary pooper scooper, wannabe Hansom Cabdriver, for real Falafel Vendor - seducer of anything that moved; though cautioned by the verisimilitude of trans-craft; (New York City is the place where they said:
Doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo
Doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo)
Sentenced next to Leonard Cohen’s “20 years of boredom for trying to change the system from within,” shoehorned a trifecta of marriages - and ipso facto i sit in Oaxaca parsing as much together as i can before i become a disembodied series of +/- 5v pulses in an analog universe. Come and see me if you want advice on how to rinse or evade Blastocysts in an E-Coli rich environment; searching for ways to misunderstand the greatest number of people while confusing the other half of that equation, or piss off the whole batch with a single gesture at the appropriate ‘influencer’. However look not this way if what you seek is tranquility and equanimity of the ‘Zen’ kind; he too was harried from my friend’s list - know not why · pretty sure i never will . ..
Still and all back to the task at hand of living, while a dear sister mortificates over her more pressing schedule on, what has to be ‘a confounding’ revolution about Sol. Will buy tools, i already own, but are stored in another country being overrun by fascists and zeolotgoofballs feeding on a media maze of rabbit holes and existential cul-de-sacs devised by some of the hollowest humans i’ve yet encountered (aside: similar in nomenclature to the aforementioned ‘intervention’ - but squishy like so much meaning in our days of ending. There are actually by all accounts members of the ruling class who are rooting for the ‘rapture’, not rooting in the way a Cheesehead might paint his gut mustard and get plastered on a Sunday TV camera opportunity, but rooting as in: devising, scheming, financing, seancing, hiring, scheduling and other various sundry activities the HNWI delude themselves into thinking constitute meaning.
until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·
(˚ ㄥ _˚)
jts 11 September 2o25
http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com
http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
prohibited from AI sampling in any form
reprinted with permission; all rights reserved
∞
No comments:
Post a Comment