there’s every excuse for bad manners

in my last visit to the beach when i had the conversation with that eduardo cianelli-sounding lizard guy who looks like omar sharif (it seems i’m always having conversations with that guy) – after his cheap shot about humanity, probably predicated on my not saying hello to him and of course, his anticipating this behavior on my part –
where was i going with this?…oh, the beach and the next conversation….
and the twizzlers, but they happened later.
– moments after i had gotten off the beach, a truck in hire of the federal government appeared and followed me as i walked maxx to the parking lot. moving off to the roadside to the let the truck pass, the driver in his federal-park greens gave me a disapproving look and asked if i were on the beach with my dog.
“of course not,” i lied, “two more days, though…”
he didn’t believe me. he probably saw me or got a helicopter report of a man and dog on the beach. who knows? they’re real intense about this stuff.
i could tell that he was a real human slug and not a lizard wearing a suit like that other gateway national park person i met the last time when i passed by the breezy point surf club and it was a “she” and was professional and pleasant, like a well adjusted human being or a well-fed lizard, the difference being the tiny teeth she was unable to hide.
she hadn’t gotten her dentures yet though her rhinoplasty was looking natural.
this guy was all-too-human and was struggling with his life, much in the way i do. sometimes it’s a breeze. sometimes it’s a task.
lately, i’ve been struggling with my humanity much in the way humanity’s been struggling with its humanity.
i’ve just had an instant of deja vu.
have i been here before? what’s the message here?
humanity is what humanity does.
the ongoing comic opera unfolding as american political discourse is nothing more than a skit borrowed from monty python.
the argument.

of course, lives are on the line but after all, what are lives anyway?
the conservatives got it right. they are the zen masters in this.
they do not hear. they do not bargain. they…do…not.
they make white, black and black, white. effortlessly.

i have chosen to hide in the tall grasses of this landscape.
my thumb runs over one of the pieces of glass i found on the beach.
ocean-softened glass.
maybe it’s from a bottle of coca-cola when it came in quarts, an image i can remember having something to do with pizza and living at 909 avenue T in brooklyn. looking out the living room window was a straight shot of the empire state building, perfectly framed.
the curve of the glass suggests a wider base than an eight-ounce bottle.
we sell them here at goodbye blue monday.
besides, time had work to do to make this gem;


sand and salt-blasted to a milk-green opaque.

i think i said a something or two about time at another time.

anyway, when i had my discourse with the lizard guy and he told me about what a terrible genus humanity is, he remarked that, as a “farming product,” from the martian lizard’s point of view, we are high maintenance stock and if not for the hilarious sport in producing such pink and glorious rubes, they would have long ago altered the economic mindset and produced a more plentiful, though lower-grade product.
he likened this to steakhouses here on earth and “economic plateaus of quality,” inherent in given dining establishments.
wise lizards shop only in the finest restaurants.
the most discerning lizards always carry their zagat guide.
“as go the the zagats, so go the lizards,” says the eduardo cianelli-sounding guy who looks like omar sharif.

i used to be able to recite all of the addresses i lived in my childhood. there were loads,,,,1925-RD2-909-1935-1922-1943-1200-2073-540…..they were connected to streets and avenues, between here and there on the first, second, fourth floors, with numbers, letters or a combination of both affixed to the door as i entered. 4D, 1H,..that sort of stuff.
i remember a phone number from 1961.
we were urban nomads.

i can’t remember my phone number from when i lived in the east village five years ago.
go figure.
maybe this memory stuff is reminding me to go to the glossary.
memory stuff;
22. – Organization – A cognitive process in which learners find connections (e.g., by forming categories, identifying hierarchies, determining cause-effect relationships) among the various pieces of information they need to learn.

the organization of the addresses above were listed from the earliest in my life up to and including the first apartment i took when i turned 19 years old but didn’t include the “manor” in woodstown, new jersey, where i remember peeling gum off the street blacktop and chewing it with some other kid who was about as old as me and that might have been four.
there, i used it in a sentence.

About stephen trimboli

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