last breath

my computer flipped over on its back. dieing. I tried to give it mouth to mouth. my tongue got caught in the CD entry. rushed to Best Buy. they cut off my tongue. apparently i gave the machine a virus…. can’t talk for a while

 

Brazen and brawny

This is Mike Duffy and Rob Ford. They are our political tag team champions. In the tradition of the British Bulldogs and the Samoans.

Come to Canada this summer and get in all the action. No holes barred. Brazen and brawny. Stupid and stupider. Canada. Home of the beaver.

We’re all in trouble.

I could vomit up my whole life. Its infected. All my memories, thoughts, impressions. By advertising. Labels. Product names. Jingles (commercial tunes)

I don’t even know if they produce Winston cigarettes anymore. But they are alive in my head.

I once had a dish of Rice-a-Roni. It was awful but I can still hear the ringing of that commercial. And of course for indigestion after that San Francisco treat, there was Alka Setzer with the inconic drug dealer.

The frightening thing is that getting older doesn’t help erase these commercials. In fact it gets worse. Which brings us the last moments of your life. Judgment day.

We’re all in trouble.

“Never,” I added.

An unsavory moment. A teacher called a student a liar. (Not is so many words.) “They lie, you know.” She said to me. “They’ve lied to you as well.” I shook my head. This is a woman who is very religious. And I resented her implying that I was a fool. And that the girl was a liar. I shook my head. “No one’s ever lied to me,” I replied. She looked at me in an odd way. And I could see her skull under her skin. And an awful feeling that she was two shakes away from becoming dust. “Never,” I added. “I’ve never had a student lie to me.”

 

Parmenides is a sociopath.

Almost every idea that I read about has some root in the ancient Greeks. Recently I read an article in The New York Times Book Review by Alan Lightman. He was reviewing a new book by Lee Smolin called Time Reborn.

And I recall my university reading. Heraclitus and Parmenides. Heraclitus stated that you could not step into the same river twice. Everything is changing. Parmenides felt that change was an illusion. Everything was one. A friend of mine called Parmenides a sociopath.

Does everything happen at once? Is time an illusion? A way we have of keeping order. And what is entropy if time does not exist? Its an exciting time we live. Questions asked that in all certainty will never be answered.

It keeps you young.

 

I hate Andy Warhol

 

I think I hate Andy Warhol. But it doesn’t come to much. You can’t hate cellophane for long. Its not substantial enough. Although I do enjoy misspelling his name sometimes.

Most art today that I see is about pop culture. Either reflecting or analyzing or criticizing it. Warhol suspected that popular culture was like himself. Empty. Almost see through. Carrying almost no ideas. Those ideas would rest in science.

Contemporary physics, metaphysics, biology, etc. is far more interesting than the art scene. Art has become a distraction to intelligent people. Which is why I like creating art. Its a good place to hide.

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ALICE WAS A HOLE

 

 

Alice was tied to the railroad tracks. Her legs spread like fence posts. Who thinks up these ideas. She should have been falling down a hole. I can still see the world collapsing around Buster Keaton.

 

A piano wire in his fingers around her neck. And pop goes the top. Of the champagne bottle. Everyone laughs and tips the help. I couldn’t help but wonder how you practiced something like that.

 

 

Moe was always so smug when he stuck his fingers into the eyes of Curly. Curly who ended up hanging in a closet. Like a recently pressed suit. A professional hit, Larry said. Moe wouldn’t do something like that.

 

 

The undead rising. Zombies. Started by Jesus. All the Christians wandering around so sure of the purpose in life. Looking for the Boston Tea Party in the Garden of Gethsamene.

 

Makes me want to hurl.

It should be banned from film. I listen to people who want to ban violent acts, sexual acts. Blasphemy. What should be banned from films is people brushing their teeth. You see it all the time. They stick that thing in their mouth and scrape like their trying to get the last month of meals off their teeth and then they… spit this white fluid into the sink. Makes me want to hurl.

It should not be allowed. Simple as that. Simple as NRA.

America was in love

 

She was for a while the darling of American television. I loved her. She looked just like our neighbour. She was good natured, bubbly, down to earth, and funny. Very few people knew that she had suffered from polio. That she was a bit lame. She took a much younger man (Burt Reynolds) as a lover.

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from my book The Saints of Jazz 

check it out.

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Dinah Shore (February 29, 1916 – February 24, 1994)

 

 

1950s. From shore to shore. Dyed blondes. In suburban homes. Black bodies bobbing up in the swamp. Like apples in a barrel. Big frilly dresses. Puffy sleeves. In the golden days of the Pharaoh. When men drove Chevrolets. Women in church. Happy on their knees.

 

 

Every Sunday evening. Black and white laughter. Dinah and her lovers. In alphabetical order. Dinah loved Tarzan. And his jungle. A general named Moose. A singer and his jingles. The Cantabile Choir Of Kingston. A drummer. From the old school. Several actors named Jimmy. A cat. Who wanted to be President. And a red headed kid with buck teeth. And a head too big for his hat.

 

 

America had a new home movie. It was called the ‘The Battle of Los Angeles’. UFOs attacked the city of angels. Through the smog. And the alleys. And all their mighty ships were shot down. But no one could find. Where they had crashed. And Dinah kept smiling. Her ankles like a necklace. Throwing a kiss. Across America. To Ed Gein and his buddies down at Biff’s . To the nurse in the E.R. To the waitress on the graveyard shift. And all the little blondes. Watching Dinah. Cracking a joke. Singing a song. America was in love. With being blonde.

 

Boston is not a real living thing.

“Boston’s Courage.” I saw it as a headline. We all know what that means. In reference to the recent bombing event. But there is no Boston. Boston is a fantasy. Lines on a map. Boston is not a real living thing. There were no Bostons in the middle-ages. We give human characteristics to political unions and treat them as if they existed. People hide behind the mask of nationhood and act out the most heinous of crimes. Or they gouge people of their life savings in the name of some insurance company, some bank. And think they are not personally responsible. When Eichmann said that he was just doing his job, people laughed. People are still hiding behind that excuse.

And so we build our lives

Where did we come up with the concept of judgment. I mean final judgment. Does it make most of us feel good that those who have prospered at the expense of others will get their come-uppence? Is it the need to feel as if there must be some justice in life? All religions as far as I can tell, preach that the righteous shall be rewarded. Upon what evidence?

And so we build our lives.