July!
Reach for the sky. 

Something Something

	A fishing rod laying in the sand
on a river in Vermont.  I went there, not
on my own accord, with a friend of mine who
I photo with on occassion.  We were supposed
to be getting his friend to bring him to Wally-
World (to buy stuff).  
        I was like, 'why are you stopping here?
Isn't this were our other friend goes kyacking?
Don't you think that this is a little bit
invasive?'
       Oh, but he's sure of himself.  Ya, he
can stop here, damn it, it's a public river and
maybe we will see other friend kayaking by.  I was
freaking out because my other friend had
been pretty clear to leave him alone.  I didn't 
want to violate this.
      Then I'm thinking 'oh what a hangup I have
to be so worried about what other friend thinks?
Ya, it is a public river.  Truth is, I'd been there
before.  It was a couple of years ago.  I stopped
there on the side of the highway (in Vermont) and
walked over to some ledges that were next to the
river (the White River).  And that same day I drove
up the road near there to the birthplace of Joeseph
Smith (the Morman).  You go up a road , up up, up up
Then you take a right and drive up and up and up.  
Then you aren't really sure which town you are in. 
There is a long avenue going up the side
of a mountain that has a planted row of trees.  
And then a bunch of buildings.  And then, an 
Oblysk off to the side.  Well, they may be Mormans
but they still like their Oblisks.  Not sure what that
all means, that Oblisk thing.  Think it is something
about being in tune (in leauge) with some group
of people who agree to disagree.  Not sure.  I've
heard people say things.  And you know how full of
it they can be when they start saying things
that they aren't sure about.  Specially if they don't
know the words and phrases like "I'm not really
sure." or "I've heard tell" or other such
clauses that indicate uncertainty.
    My friend, who I was with, wouldn't bring
his shoes over to the island that I went over to.
I found a fishing rod lieing in the sand.  I thought:
   if other friend comes kyacking by, he
can see this here, if I set it upright in the sand,
and maybe he can make some use of it.
I even took a picture of the thing.  This was near
a railroad bridge that crosses high above the
river.
    So finally I got back to my friend.  He was
just sitting there in the shade.  It was hot that day,
the fourth of July.  So next we are going up to
the place to meet the guy who we are supposed to bring
to Wally world.  I'm thinking "no problem, we'll just
come and then we will go.  I'm not invading anyone's
privacy."
   But they are all Chuckle Drunk.  There is something
gooing on here.  They are doing something that
I don't know about?  That didn't occur to me then.
Lot of conversation, stuff that is meaningless but
tells everything.  Lot of bragging, boasting, how
much did a 4 year old cycling shirt cost?  "It
was a 70 dollar shirt!" friend boasts.  I'm like
"Y the F would I F in care."
  So we are there an hour.  All that inanity being
large, like a dirigible that expands inside a dream
and fills it all up, there is no more sky left in
your dream, no more heart beating it's ruby joy singing
the name of the one who you love the most . . . no
more hope for the phone call from friend.  Nothing.
Just a couple of Chuckle Drunk dudes got me in their
web of broken phrased innuendo.  I insist we leave.
Friend is like 'I can hang here I'm not violating
anyone's privacy.'
  No, I think we were.  Trust me, folks, it was
not a happy thing for me to be trapped like this.
I ought not have even gone near the place that day.
It lead to other awful things happening later.  
  Finally after all of that we are driving away and
I'm just . . . upset . . . in an extreame.  So I go
all silent and passive and do the same kind of 
stufff that friend does when he's all peaved.  
Left there feeling like the worlds of sand upon which
I had built my house of love were collapsing away.
It's just materialism at the edge of the sky?  It's how
large someone's girlfriend's breasts are?  It's
the way she looks when she's sweting?  It all seemed
vulgar to me, not respectful, not a way to talk about
a friend's girlfriend.  Ah, but the Chuckle Drunk, they
have no filter on the mouth.  The words flood forth
just as they think them.  They appologize for depravity
saying 'it is just the way I am' and we are
imagined (by them) to be eccumenical if we accept 
them in all of their moral decay.
   So I'm reading The Sermon on the Mount
from St. Mathew's Gospel.  And Jesus says not to call
anyone a fool.  Is that not what I am doing here?
I can calling them fools when they are Chuckle Drunk 
like that?  I can't accept that I should not at
least note this all, to myself, to get myself accustomed
to thinking that it isn't OK to be so heedless.  If I
play the flute maybe people should dance.  Maybe if
I sing a dirge, they should weep?  What do I know.
I am not so sage as to know what is to be in this
world that I can share with you.  I have these many
words which I let flood out of me . . . and again
I think  of something from the Bible:  the many
words that one uses show ones' foolery.  Maybe
that is why Jack Kerouac revered so much
the Buddha of no words.
   I'm still friends with everyone.  At least I
hope that I am.  But if they never heeded how I felt
before what kind of friend is that really?  And
so much, so many times, when I have my emotional
interludes, I look for solidity in insolid folks.
Those folks are having a hard enough time getting
through their own meadows of confusing winds.  They
don't want daddy-billy showing up and wagging his
finger their way.  I'm supposed to read minds
and know to not call when they don't call despite
what get's said and offered.  I'm supposed to know
that the offer is like saying "We are nver
really going to do these things, so don't ask me to"
It seems that way sometimes.

  It is hard being unemployed.  I've started selling
things to get extra money.  I've taken to burning old
reciepts because I don't have a shreader.  I'm paring
things down to essentials for my eventual move.  Yes,
and eventual move, to the next place in life.  And
I don't know where that is or who I will be with.  I
know who I want to be near, but it seems that they
don't really want me around as much as I would hope.
And then I feel humiliation at the rejection and I 
try to hide it all.  Meanwhile everyone else around
me is also having their own existential crises.  Some
people augment the sad things, they revel in making
other people squirm, dragging hearts in love through
the mud of rejection and bitter acrimony.  When you
care about someone are you supposed to pretend that
it doesn't matter?

  So, here we are in the new day of what is going on.
And we are supposed to think and act that it is all
OK because we feel victim to the indifference of those
who say they are in power.  Doesn't matter to them
that it is the people who voted them in.  They delude
that whatever they want is what they can do.  Damn
the responsibilities of office.
  But isn't it just the same as it ever was?  So I
will not worry.  I will try and get along.  I will
try and stay away.  I will not invade or beg for an
invitation.  I don't care anymore, people, about all
the stuff that others lie about to justify their cruelties,
in the name of progress, in the name of equality,
in the name of . . . make something up.  I don't
care anymore about those things that do not matter.
I need to care about myself.  So . . . 
if I seem distant it isn't me.  It's just that
you've turned into a giant dirigible and you
are floating away from me.  You think that it isn't
you that is moving, because everything is relative,
so says Einstien.  You are all full of yourself
and you see me as small and down below.  Because you
have filled yourself up with hot-air and are
puffed up with delusive causes that do not succeed.

The dirigible will burn in a flame of spectacular
midnight, fit for TV news.  You will land safely
into a new land of your delusions having been
exploded and you coming into awareness of what
is real, and grounded.  Me, I'll be somewhere 
blogging, in my small space, down on the Earth,
trying not to, trying not to call my friend a
fool.  Trying to live the Sermon on the Mount.
Loving Jesus and loving you and loving friends.

  






  




6:29 PM
July 14, 2010