…or in a movie directed by ridley scott..or when young lovers reunite in a 1970’s romance film…or what happens when someone puts a gun to your head. (just for the record; i did experience the last thing mentioned not once but twice and it was the same thing both times …extreme s-l-o-w-moving through a crystal-clear glob of mucus).
maxx (my loose-cannon of a dog) is asleep, rolled in a circle, his head resting on his tail – he has a very comfy tail – laying on the gray poncho i placed on the daybed he took over three years ago.
buddy is positioned to my immediate right next to this keyboard; sphinx-like, his paws tucked beneath him he sits, his head up and eyes closed on the red poncho folded into a plush-square and placed on the desk for him.
he has a BB in his hip from when he was used for target practice in his feline-youth.
i saw it in an x-ray.
but i digress.
i can’t help talking about buddy like he’s some sort of hero. he is my zen-master.
i’ve been inventorying heroes lately, but if i go on about this i will sink (or float) further into digression that might land me in a world of vague discomfort…or not.
while i was laying out these articles of clothing that used to define me, i promised to start wearing them again.
i have no idea if i meant what i said.
keeping promises to myself isn’t one of my strong suits. i’ve settled for promising the thought and letting it go. shame on me.
this plays in my mind like bitter fruit.
i’m better than this.
what of my public? (i have no public)
what of the children? (i have no children)
usually, by the time i get to this, i’ve forgotten what i was talking about.
it worked again.
i just have to make sure i don’t proofread this.
for a while, the night became one of black and white.
i spent a few hours composing this while listening to the television.
the greys and whites danced with the shadows at the edge of my right-eye’s periphery.
turner classic movies was screening “gold diggers of 1935,”
a depression era gem that i hadn’t seen in a while.
toward the end, when i heard the music begin to weave the melody from, “the lullaby of broadway,” i noticed the screen blacken, gaining my attention.
i forgot this particular busby berkeley number…it’s almost 15 minutes long and at moments it’s pretty intense;
but back to slow motion.
i’m not sure if it’s where i need to be, but something tells me i have to go here. i need to continually close my eyes and hope to see the paths my eyelids lead me, like tracerlines from dreams, traveling to the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension.
in the past, i wondered if my imagination played tricks on me in my goings and comings out there, marveling at the “slowness” i felt when traveling at the speed of light.
i remarked about this from time to time (and place to place) over the years, never once figuring there was a chance dreams might travel faster than light.
that was until those supercollider guys at CERN found out about those bang-zoom neutrinos.
i might say my dreams are neutrino-powered, but through years of conversation between me and my friend, i’m sure we travel faster.
yeah, i know it’s a stretch, but maybe busby berkeley saw something back then…
the inside core at CERN looks girly-powered.
of course, this is just an opinion.
i got loads of them.
they might morph and develop but they don’t ever do a one-eighty. a one-eighty is an unreasonable swift change-of-mind.
people who do that, who think black on one moment and white the next, give me the creeps.
people who do that, “in the public eye,” are most-likely liars.
people who do that in the political arena ARE LIARS.
big stinking liars.
my biggest hope regarding occupy wall street is the birth of a non-aligned political party, but i’m not in too much of a hurry for it. anything that pops up without massive roots and inner growth is doomed to be taken apart by the sinister self-interest of the “two current parties.”
i state it in quotes for obvious reasons.
want to see the democrats and republicans work together? start a political party.
they’ll work hand-in-glove like good soldiers to destroy anything that threatens them.
they will work shoulder-to-shoulder, smiling.
they will roll up their sleeves and perspire.
ask ross perot.
general motors and ford and chrysler teamed up like that in the late forties against Preston Tucker.
his story is nothing short of extraordinary.
they made a movie in the late 80’s called “Tucker; a Man and His Dream,” but his story was much bigger than the movie could ever be – though the film was pretty great.
these were the biggest corporations in america at the time and they went whole-hog to protect their market shares.
imagine entire political parties going after you.
throw in the influence peddlers of wall street, the banks and insurance companies and every well-heeled greedy bastard on the planet.
that there is one big, powerful lobby of self interest, you betcha.
hence, the need for a huge, undefined group of about a sixty or seventy million people who are just plain tired of the endless bullshit being proffered by the powers that be.
while i’m at it –
please, get the hell out of afghanistan.
i’m asking nicely.
one last thing;
dolores told me to tell my sweetest friend on the planet that she’ll be waiting on the corner of joy street and eternity avenue.
they’re already acquainted.