The Middle Labor Day Way

4/28:

Feeling funny-fuzzy, partially incontinent, and cold and grey like the weather here in Buffalo today like a regional stereotype and a bad joke.  Emotionally and spiritually fatigued as I am, out-looking positive, and just overwhelmed that everything’s switching off-and-on, as it were, from contentment to desire, from life to death, instead of following the so-called ‘middle-way’.  [Am-bee-ants ambience]  A macabre double-header of wakes where heads are removed and necks are joined and buried as one bitorsoed body like a grisly palindrome in desecrated semiotic decay.  Diabolic efficiency!  But it’s important to be grateful to-for others who put ease in footsteps and add beauty to what could be considered obscene (by perspective) in a dark night of the soul – a metaphysical blindness that constitutes melancholy.  Burping, smoking, with crude physiology, a brick shithouse backhand slapping, desk charging, taboo living, ‘do you wanna get high?’ Smokin’ joints with the old Weezers on their way to wakefulness, back into Barb’s bag with the failure of twisted words to manifest in the moments I remain (thankfully) unawares, oblivious to academic threes, dream quadrants, and holy pentagrams!  I’m confused, aimless, drifting to Tudor drafts, barging in on conversations about Bethlehem steel and Love Canal, chasing a delirious shake with financial pity for the suffering shark.  (Who has time for real friends?)  The madness of science for earning, efficiency, and mechanism solely, when in reality we are all connected in a unified field where we all suffer for the likes of the sadistic separatists who pulverize their human remains for the pulse of entrails and think they can privatize gas emissions and watershed pollutants as they run off to lonely islands with obvious disdain for environment and neighborhoods.  The nerve of superiority!  Atlas shrugs as Oklahoma earthquakes are becoming more seismic with the waste water of hydraulic fracturing.  Industrious savages!  Too drunk to be funny, but jest sober enough to hammer bass. The desire to lay my lips on something sweet overwhelms as I drink potions...

6/18:

Deep Economy: Erin, care of Canada via Peru, at Taza where all worries dissipate into cooperativeness, where it’s popular to be unpopular, because cliques exist past high school, cast your vote where you spend your money.  Cuomo must drink a lot of coffee!  Andrew Cu-omo, that copper (Cu) homo (Nid) has no idea how to live, only how to die; tool, running the devil machine that should be called New Amsterdam if he were doing it better.  Instead the Guido leader of the legal mafia in blue that kills blacks and supports the proletariat hierarchy that was supposed to have been abolished in 1776, “governs”.  If I could put a fork in the blacktopped road I’d create a metaphor that stands for divergence with a little flag that isn’t resembling a Union Jack.  Such is the vicious nature of interconnectedness, and the further we expand the net, web, or globalized economic culture, the more difficult it is to remove the black tar that represents corporate greed, plutocracy and profit; and the heroin that represents psychic removal, black markets, impurity, and incarceration.  The glutinous ‘bigger is better’ mega-list philosophy is further and further removed from reality like an autistic automaton, a manufacturer of the mechanistic, or a proponent of wasteful hastiness.  [Eyeball; I balk.]  Doors off his Tracker, child in the back seat, blasting bachata; must be a terrorist!. What is socially unjustifiable anymore?  Life around a card table full of cheaters, meaningless microcosm, synecdoche of a game, wet 2D symbolism, 3D projection of a 4D world, becoming between destiny and history...

0511Reflection

Choosing my words more carefully, the power in My hands?  Not without discipline, exercise, and stretching?  So the power is in my hands?  That’s a lot of pressure.  Take it back, my libido.  Should I open this up?  Should I open my self? Am I up to scrutiny?  So many questions when you can’t sleep.  There was an outline…

                I really appreciate her present (however abstract) presence. I appreciate her being.  I want to give her body stuff ha-ha.  There will be one day when the laughs will all be mine!  And the horde of laughter (the tour group from the group home) will laugh for the last time!  My competition in abstraction salutes the smashing sun.  I really love her so my!  Oh my! So much!  Forever never-never forever, but on and on into infinity and maybe even eternity instead or also?  What backwards rides everything?  Artificial intelligence shoves gnomes up yoga pants victims near vain, conceited mirrors, a real clockwork horrorshow!  The lost art of fucking-people-over is really lost on her, as I believe in her foot, thankfully, and gratefully I believe and in the flesh, my spirit, Jesus, my Lord, the debt I will owe will be too great!  Two pennies fare o’er sticks!  (Styx) Fuck it, let’s sail!  Frankenstein’s promethean wide-world worldwide getaway-from-revenge scheme against his own spirit made reanimated flesh, another freak unable to find love for the reason that his God was a real son-of-a-bitch. 

My intelligence; my phoniness; the reason I like to party is man is made of mostly water, and while some of us barely know ourselves, I remember that it’s water that carries that charge and alcohol that keeps that liquid spark alive!  If nature has taught me anything; flow.  The difference between having and not having is not so different if you have any imagination, but obsessions, fetishes, and attachments draw me to things like the negative pole of an evil magnet, the one that took your chunky digit on the last day you forgot to skip for not the streets, but for corporate credit, corporeal currency, and bodily Beelzebub.  “Are you proud of yourself?”

The past that pursues a person, like a clown to whatever ‘it’ is or a fool like a dog to its own vomit, what can Solomon do but preach and rule knowing his conviction and the ring he laid down at her feet with supreme deference? I’m a rat by comparison to you, so merciful, so kind…I put pressure on myself to compare…

Later that day:  Jamie’s telling me about Paul Walker de Asheville’s Quatro de Cinco taco ride and bicycle detailing; decal yellow. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” reads my Red King mug.  Little links in the chain cipher decipher, interpret, and fantasize. The early dog gets the pet? The police dog fetches the stray bullet, canine olfactory evidence; C.O.E. (Hapax L. v. 6^th Amendment).  Beautiful molting bug, hanging from my light fixture, will you become as a delicate jewel encased in amber?  Mosquito’s proboscis! The colored (red) guy can barely maneuver the benches or close his dilapidated car’s door!  He may be a member of the mobile homeless.  [Rancheros on Niagara, near the gas station, formerly Rascals (directions to a native Buffalonian)]

Still later that day: At Armory restaurant for the first time to eat food…a disorganized noontime scene, Italian restaurant, is it too late for lasagna? Never (IMO)! Harbison Bros. Appenheimer Ave. (East side) -> L.B.’s urban farm (also East side) where we’re potentially going to grow mushrooms out of logs.  In the interim I’ll figure out a system for pasteurizing straw.  Will need thermometer, siphon (move it), have 55-gallon basket materialized (do I need it?), tub, and weed-whacker for chopping straw into finer pieces.  Tomorrow, try hose-water + siphon system for soaking coffee-oyster blocks (where dehydration seems to be a problem (too many coffee exudites? (didn’t need siphon (amethyst enough to tip)))) Asheville next week, Antonia should be counted upon because she’s great (and I think I love her, (but only fools rush in (as They say (fuckin’ cabal)))).  Butterflies anyway…And turtles all the way down…And the Bruce is loose.

Chickenshit Sailor

What I wrote when I woke up from a dream on 4/11:

At mall with mom, she was talking about a new air conditioning unit for the house and then something Hillary/Bill related when I snapped at her to ‘stop talking’ whereupon I lost her and I started thinking about my ride home. I didn’t feel bad about it. Some other lady offered me a ride and I declined.  Then when I went to call and apologize, my dad picked up and 4 dogs ran out and I was yelling to get them back when something happened where almost everyone went blind with bloody eye sockets.  One dog ran back and was eating its own eyeball on a string calmly.  Apparently there was some new device that everyone wanted that made this happen.  I think of Japan, (the book Hiroshima).

Later I’m driving with 3 people, 2 friends from Colorado - Jen and Andy, the driver I don’t know, someone Arabic?  He’s texting and driving through a crosswalk, narrowly missing 2 (people) then crashes.  I’m perfectly fine, but my two friends flew and were implanted head-first and were completely rigid, Jen into a tree, and Andrew into a dartboard.  The driver I’m mad at for killing them, but he’s a got such a badly broken leg that I don’t chase him too far.  I call 911, but suddenly it’s like he crashed into a hospital, but nobody is really responding to the carnage.  Danielle calls and I try to get emotional, but my sobs sound ridiculous, so I stop and get up, but I start taking someone else’s bag by mistake and I apologize and he starts talking about not doing the regeneration therapy.  Then Rob shows up and he thinks the whole thing’s kind of funny for some reason and so does Amanda, so I get over it and try to take some pictures.

@0855 (8:55 a.m.)

Thermonuclear Holocaustic

Unable to eat shit fast enough, he pulled out all her entrails and kept feasting on her intestines, liver, and keys to her heart.  Tool and die?  I just want to get some sleep or unlock my mind so that I can wrap it around doing the little things that should be done and need doing, needn’t they?

Then on 4/24:

Haven’t been writing since dog Revelations, there has been more room for adventure and sleep. 4/18 found me flying to Mississippi, Gulfport (Biloxi), 0600 flight, after a 4/17 Ghost B.C. concert at Rapid’s Theatre in Niagara Falls.  I just made my flight with minutes to spare.  Spent the night of 4/18 in Nashville, TN, where we (dad and I) ate at the Stillery, then went out for beer and music at Tootsie’s where there were 3 stages and a packed house Monday. 4/20 and post have been kind of a blur,… went to Mutoid Man that night (Weds.) with Kris, Matt P., Jeff, then met up with Antonia, and after the show with her friend Alicia for blunt & joint & beer.  The haze…Thurzdaze…degeneration…Danielle!  So that’s the day we got coffee & beer, talked about (let’s face it) her-Story, where she’s going, what she’s doing, her relationships, her problems & solutions…(I’m being slightly sarcastic here…not all that one-sided).  Talked to Amanda & got my work for Friday…Friday I went to work with Chris (the Greek), Luke, and Sue, on Earth Day, her birthday. We put up and cut drywall (sheet-rock), ate Imperial pizza, and were impressed by the South Buffalo Princess, Queen of her kind, Amanda Mark E. Mark Randle O’Witzy, prince of scandals, schemes, and hullabulloos!  (See brouhahae)

@0353 (3:53 a.m.)

It seems that there’s so much evil in the world that there’s little left to have faith in. Without being skeptical, let me practice my aseptic technique and judge every source of contamination with a blind eye.  Mothers of cathair!  Noqueens, just queers, and righteous queers whom in their righteousness are…different.  Feats of Renaissance men seem insurmountable.  DaVinci’s lore!  Is there anything that man didn’t try? Not Kabbaalism?! Kabaaloom!  Possessing evil weaves, woven evils, not goods, discord amongst men.  The stuff of bloodletting, revenge, and every form of torment hangs from an evil tree, hanging from a noose of discord, hung like a horse of the apocalypse (defeated by the forces of EVIL! HA-HA).  All the vile dirt of dandies destined for a swimming hole, pool of lust and despair, drowned many a man off the coast of Costa Rica in the shit riptide. Pacific, Mariana, Hawaii; what the hell is wrong with me?  Skeptics everywhere agree with everything.  Found without fault by the scrutinizers? Jesus, judge not, and allow me to command forces outside the control of the masses, the common people, or the hoi polloi. Proletarian proselytizers?  Literally sylvan, energy amber, and scale unobtainable. More words count less. The Tao is deep within, the ching, let it out, change already! Like an irate motorist, mad about other motorist’s on i-technology; he waves his wings and catches flies like the missing link.  Like a lunatic late for work, hung over off the full moon, when a robot hung over the intersection of Delavan and Delaware changed from red to green mellow yellow crashed into t-bone traffic.  Ass of a tranny!  Class of a tyrant!  Past of a clown!

@0442 (4:42 a.m.)

Tao Forty-Six

When the Tao is present in the universe,
The horses haul manure.
When the Tao is absent from the universe,
War horses are bred outside the city.

There is no greater sin than desire,
No greater curse than discontent,
No greater misfortune than wanting something for oneself.
Therefore he who knows that enough is enough will always have enough.

0624 (6:24 a.m.) on 4/29/16.