Snippets 73

Ursula. K. Le Guin-Lavinia

Though people often confused it with weakness or duplicity, tact is a great quality in a ruler, whether of a country or a household; awareness of the other allows respect, and people respond to it, returning the recognition and the respect. Aeneas governed with tact, and was beloved for it. (204)

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Later…

11:46AM Got over 1k words on WIP, pretty great, scary stuff. I don’t dare divulge the premise at this point, but it’s ornery as hell. I realize I didn’t explicitly answer the why, in the why are things so fucked post. I was getting there in umbra talk, the immaterial state of existence and nonexistence, which we emerge from. The truth is I’m not exactly sure why things are so fucked. I have theories, speculations, evidence, but not really a specific why. Perhaps there isn’t one why like that, some all inclusive answer. Perhaps the question is just too general to really matter. I see that.

4:16PM Realized angst-ridden rant posts are part of problem. As an apology I offer a list of solutions to the Suck…

-Jimi Hendrix
-Sunshine
-Foot Rubs
-Laughter
-Hot Coffee
-Dancing
-Dirt
-Sex
-Conversation with the Muse
-Effigy Mounds
-Pyramid at Giza
-The Sphinx
-Ray Bradbury
-Sunflowers
-Our Fathers and Hail Marys
-Ten Deep Breaths With Your Eyes Closed

Why are things so fucked? AKA The Problem of Evil, An Anecdote

Probably happens to you, watching the news, sitting in traffic, waiting in line at Wal-Mart, it just hits you, things are totally fucked. I see evidence everywhere. Giant grey produce bins at the grocery store. I like to go as early as I can. Avoid the fuck-stuff. Produce manager’s job every morning is to come remove the spoiled, wasted food. It’s a big bin. For days I’ve watched him just loading it to the brim. Delicious greens, pears, bananas, all just left to rot, then to the dumpster. I think about how much waste this grocery store has in a year. How little fruits and vegetables this neighborhood actually consumes.

Getting gas. “Kyle! Kyle!” A man screamed across the parking lot at his friend. Guys hops out the truck. There old friends, probably High School buddies, slap each other on the back. Start reminiscing. Saw the Texas plates. Thought it looked like you. Figured it had to be. Fuck, how you been? Good, good. How long you been in town? Few weeks, you live around here now? Yep, just a couple blocks up. Awesome, yeah I’m staying with my parents. They live in these apartments, social security type thing, up on 33rd street. Oh great…When did the arrested development phase of humanity begin, my mind wonders? I’m pretty sure I was born into it. I can testify to its presence from my earliest memories, say circa 1987. I’m sure I was aware of it then. Its colors are Pepsi red and blue, synthesizers and bass, Aquanet, smooth tanned thighs.

From research, and considering good USA specifically, I think the Great Depression strikes might me as a likely starting point. Maybe more broadly we would want to place it during the Industrial Revolution, 1760-1840s, when the massive modern cities were created, and people left their agriculture and tribal roots and got in the race for the dinero. But that’s just the “arrested development”, no more human beings phase, the true fuckery, well that’s as old as time itself isn’t it? Isn’t a bigger fuckery than the umbra itself, the primordial black abyss that spawned the whole thing. Where laws of physics and causation are suspended, anything is possible, welcome to La-La-Land. Table of two. We’ll get you right over here. Next to Larry, his wife Marge, a six pack of tall-boys, and a cartoon of cheap cigarettes. Would you like a t-shirt?

Lady at my kids school the other day had to be told to move out of the bus line. Multiple signs state this fact. A dozen people lined up on the streets, with signs, and vocals established this fact the first three weeks of the new school year. Most everyone seems to get the message. Except for the roots of fuckery, they never seem to get the message. She had to be asked to move. Almost gets in a wreck puling out, goes around the block, parks it on the median in a front of a house across the street. Gets out of Escalade (chop my dick off, if that’s paid off), begins to assault young child in the back of the car. I will beat your fucking ass, if you scream again. Shut the fuck up. Stop screaming goddammit.

I stand there, blood boiling. Another parent and I make eye contact, give each other the look. Social consensus, fuckery. The lady comes over to talk. We can’t believe it. I tell her I’m about to snap, but then I’ll be just as bad, making a scene in front of everyone. Fuckery provokes other fuckery. A chain of fuckery stretching into the horizon, a stunning purple and blue horizon painted by Bob Ross…

It’s 9:55AM, I’m in the lab. I am Holden Caulfield, and you’re all phonies. Let’s get these words.

An Antidote:

You have nothing to fear!

You have nothing to fear, the worst has already happened. It’s true. I won’t bore you with a list of atrocities, but I’m sure your heart can name a few. More of the worst is sure to come, but you shouldn’t fear that new batch either, because the worst has already happened and passed and come again. It’s probably happening right now, now, now.

I could challenge you to think of the worst fate for a human, and you would not be able to come up with a torture or torment which hasn’t already been accomplished, or one of equal value. My mind can’t think of one, except for exaggerations, like a billion flesh eating fire ants, giant planet destroying meteors, things like that, but of course a short study of the universes, galaxies or whatever will tell you those things probably happen all the time too, like right now, now, now.

So the smallest seemingly trivial aspect of life is a profound accomplishment when it is put in its proper context. Breathing. Calm stream of consciousness. Sip of water. A place to sit. Consequently, most of our worries in this light seem sort of small. Being broke, or single, or overwhelmed by a career or family, is really nothing compared to a planet teeming with life and the possibility of life being annihilated by a giant rock, or nukes, or whatever.

I think most people in life go through this sort of fracturing of self, as bad things happen, until your optimism muscle and sense of self is ruined, and you end up broke, wicked, burned out. That’s why positive people are so special, and usually young, like a raging fire in the blizzard of the cosmos. This truth is why we love Art and Sports, anything that allows us to see passed the true state of things, to a fantasy, for a moment.

But I suggest another way, some days. Stare it in the face. Each moment remember, now, now, now. Each breath, the worst has passed, and you’re still going, and that thing you love is still there. Now. Breathe. Pause. Still there. Now. Breathe. Pause. Still there. Nothing to fear. Now. Breathe. Pause. Still there….

AJM 3:01PM 9-17-16

Snippets 71

Ursula K. Le Guin -Lavinia

They were solid, real, and needy. They were too young to imagine anything. Looking after them was a comfort to me for which of course I was overpraised and flattered–look how kind the king’s daughter is to the slave’s child. Look how kind the slave’s child is to the king’s daughter, I thought, as a sweet, languid little girl smiled up at me, falling asleep in my arms. (111)

 

9-16-16 Morning Dispatch

9s and 6s are almost the same, but reversed. Mirrored. Remember that. There’s you and you reversed. If you don’t remember that, you might miss some important parts of the story.The day is mine, the lab is mine, the words are there, if I chose to bend down and scope them up. There’s a hesitation, an existential hang-over from the birthday. Not a real hang over, note. Deep in caves of self-development, alcohol and other distractions become true controlled substances.

I’ve lost the ability to “celebrate” from the Latin, “of the Mass, celebratus, much-frequented; kept solemn; famous,” Yep, that’s about it. Really I hate it, that, your special day as a “celebrity” where praise and treasures shall be thrown at your feet vibe. I know that makes me sound like such an asshole, spoil sport, to a large portion of people. Genuinely, I feel bad that my cold attitude might give them grief, but fact remains I don’t like it; I’m sorry. Holiday. Holy-Days. Prescribed patterns of behavior days. My Birthdays have often been marked by dark omens, or so it seems to me, I stole the day from my 18yr old Uncle,  cake in the face and outrage at one, perpetrated by soon-to-be deceased Aunt, a tortured teasing of a Go-Cart at thirteen, which would later be hocked in an impending divorce, dissolved into a hundred dollars and a BBGUN, riots, violence, broken hearts at 21, you get the picture…

So yes in development I have set my eye on the greater prize, revenge. Against the thing, the “It”, the archon, that embedded itself in our culture, in our oversoul, so that’s what I’m going to do today, strike the forge, ring the hammer, breathe the smoke. I see its wispy black tail right there…ahhh, quiet now….

9-13-16 Journal Snippet

Got stung by a wasp Sunday. Went to pick up a stick and move it while mowing, flung the bastard on me. Felt like an ant at first, they’ve been in contact, but when I felt the pinch, and saw the lil fucker burrowing in, I realized the truth. I ripped it out, stormed around, cursed like a madman, went back to mowing defiantly. When I went inside we went through all the bullshit remedies for things like this, lavender oil in the wound, baking soda paste on the arm, Gregorian chanting. None if it worked, hours later arm was swelling, itchy as shit, bad enough I had to have my wife run to pharmacy to get the benadryl. I was embarrassed by my swelling member, feared sight of it might cause a panic, send them running for an epipen or ambulance.

Been battling that for last two days. Bendaryl made me sleepy, grouchy. Parenting little ones is oddly physical too. Loss of my dominant arm left me flustered. Makes you think too how weak our bodies are, how easily things can invade. Just a little swelling and redness had my whole ;eft arm out of commission. The thing pinged me for a second, with a minuscule amount of poison, and it did that much damage. There’s a lesson in there: small things can have a huge affect. Words and emotions most of all…

Reading: Hill & Rodriguez Locke and Key VOl 2 Head GamesTom Sawyer Abroad and Other Tales by Mark Twain.

Snippets 70

Ninja 1,000 Years of the Shadow Warrior A New History-John Man

Like a theologian wrestling to reconcile scripture with some alleged piece of evidence, Onoda took a while to see that this, too, was fake. Of course the school knew who had issued his orders. It was all there in the records. This was merely a way for his bosses to send him a message: Hang on, Onoda! We haven’t forgotten you.

The last days before the equinox

My buddy Bill killing it! Check out his great and inspiring prose.

William Pearse | pinklightsabre

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Fall’s moody shadows, pine needles, leaves: all that starts from above one day will drop, past the mountain peaks Jack Kerouac walked, they probably looked the same to him too, it’s hard to believe those photos of people in the past in black and white lived in the same color as we do.

Lily and I walked down to a patch of grass by the lake and I got out a cut of smoked salmon we shared with a knife and ate the skin, briny and tough like something you shouldn’t eat, like the foam backing from the packaging but it wasn’t, just tough and scaly, and I wondered if it was bad for me but didn’t care it was so good: the clouds made shadow patterns like claws skittering up the backs of the mountains, like bat wings unfolding in the contours and couloirs — and I made Lily lead the…

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