"...from my kitchen observatory"

 

"...2026"

Walt Whitman wrote his own reviews…smart move Walt. In that tradition. What with so many I know just up and leaving lately. I decided to write my own obit.  This as likely as any. Once upon a time: 

Library of Congress 2358 CE, …ref: Sidney Smith 1950-2026 CE.

Obscure 20th early 21st century writer publisher lecturer. Pre-hyper cloud analog communicator. Noted for his odd wit and ironies. Post-1st American Civil War/early digital and world diversity era. See Cloud archives for his speculations and ink sketches concerning Angels. Interned and disappeared during the 2nd American Civil War, 2026/28. Note: His great great-grand niece Willamena Keung was appointed Chief Justice of the World Court 2154.

 

"...myths"

This is as close as I come to a movie about myself. 

On top my own self at six. When I was force-fed strange cosmologies.  

Next an unattributed book illustration. A stand-in for my soul. 

Below at eleven. 

When I began reading science fiction and made my own myths. 

I drew it in my 20’s for a comic book “Phantom Kid”, about my then life.

 After this it gets complicated.

 

 

"...more good news"

I was thinking about relative levels of danger we live with and take for granted. In Ukraine folks now go about normal lives with high explosive rockets landing nearby. Here in da big city. I’m used to random murder and stray bullets. There’s some that live deep in the Canadian woods. Where folks get eaten by bears now and then. Others well…the pool cleaner is late.

We all face a unique stay bullet.

"...we're generally, fucked to shit"

Some places have fallen direct to 3rd world status. This without the dignity of soaking as a 2nd world State. The capital of an America state...that's in the United States of America. Well, they've lost most of their running water with no date as to its return. 

Jackson Mississippi's water treatment and pumping facilities are offline. No time as I say has been given for repairs to be completed.  The Governor sez he's monitoring the situation. I'm sure folks are much relieved by this.

There is now no reliable water for firefighting or personal use. National Guard mobile water units have been sent to hospitals. Also bottled water will be distributed for as long as supplies last.

This happening in the United States of America in 2022.

Our infrastructure rots mobs roam the streets folks can't buy gas or food. Pals are dropping dead. For good measure our fucking spaceships crap out in front of us. Things is going real swell.

"...fuck'em"

Artimis scrubbed or put another way...failed. It didn't launch as there was a breach in a liquid hydrogen line. It vented out of the ship. It looked like someone had shot it with an RPG round. There it was billowing away. That Liquid Hydrogen line like the others cools the engines. If this had blown during lift off the whole damned thing would have ignited like the Shuttles did. 

If this was a crewed mission NASA would be adding more dead astronauts to the piles of Shuttle crews they murdered. That by incompetence hubris and corruption. 

They flew the Shuttles years past their remove from the shelf date. This time it's worse. The fuckers are years late getting this damned thing into the sky. More than enough time to get it fucking right for a change. 

Mind they're great even miraculous at robotic exploration of the system. However, the manned mission department is dicey and always was. NASA should de-fuel that roman candle. Roll it back to the shed. Dismantle it and sell its guts for scrap before they kill more people. 

Leave this to private industry. They're out to make money so their manned stuff works. If it don't they get sued through eternity. What I mean is...fuck NASA to hell. Even if they launch next week no one has any confidence in them. Haven't for 50 years.

Btw:

UFO hunting season due to this embarrassing fuck up has been moved back to its original date. See post below. Also aluminum hat and license requirements have been re-instated.

The UFO or now "UAP" hunting season has been moved up.

Now to August 29th from its traditional date September first.

This in honor of the long delayed...by years, launch of the Artimis moon colony rocket.

Licenses and aluminum hat requirements have been waived for the occasion.

 

Tink has the right idea.

I'm really tired of all this Summer stuff.

The steam haze and sun stroke is getting on my nerves.

 

The Better Angels of my nature sometimes run things. Lately not so much. Exhaustion moral rage general nuttiness are in charge. Them Angels ought to be back. They just went down the block to knock back a few rums and cokes. These days who can blame them.

"...I can wait"

A FB pal mentions they lost a friend last night. I lost one as well. Fred from my radio life passed a few days ago. In these days, months...tears just come. I know this is happening. Friends are messaging this to me. We're strong, but heartful hence tears. Our friends just keep leaving. It's like everybody is going to some amazing party and I haven't got my invitation yet. I can wait. However, when I gets there we'll all have a bleeping ball! The cake ice cream ganja tuition, and 1956 Thunderbirds is on da house. That and Bessie Smith John Lennon and Judy Garland will be singing their new songs!

Be well be safe love you all

 

Reading cooking sitting grieving praying waiting.

Days go by.

 

"...who we are"

The Russo-Ukrainian conflict is the Fourth European Tribal World War. The Cold War was the Third. The 20th century was the Second 100 Years' War. The first was 1337 – 1453. The Second 1914-2001. 9/11 ended it and began the Third. There was also the First African Tribal World War. 1996-99. 11 nations were involved. Five millions perished. Few know it happened because of where it was and who it was.

This is who we are.

"...days"

Days go by.

I was just emailed

that my friend Fred Hershkowitz has passed away.

He was a pal during my broadcast career.

Fred was a writer performer and broadcaster.

He was a humorous generous kind soul.

 

Sometimes like this morning. I got up at 4am ...it's like that.

One has to put the world out of mind. Then just read or play with your toys.

My model of a British European Airways DC-3.

1/72nd Corgi scale for you diecast scale modeling fans.

"...Queer June re-run"

Since it is...or was June here's something from my Queer daze. Once upon a time: I was always presumed Queer…even by myself. That being so I was very much a John Symonds fan in my youth. A once noted pacifist smarty pants. This in my days as a Queer outlaw idealist. 

I had this romantic idea that all Queers were idealistic artists and pacifists. Then I met the real homosexual community. This at the height of the impersonal random sex era. The perfect vector for the AIDS Virus. I weep still. 

Though yes, I did find like-minded souls that thought we could overcome cruelty with love. Much as J.S. did. As you may have noticed our revolution has not completely succeeded yet. Still, it's a lovely idea and research continues.

"...life and times"

"...life and times"

It was the early 1960's, and "Morning in America!" Jackie Kennedy was "jazzing up" da White House and trying to give us a little class fer Christ's sakes. Dr. King, and brave others was out there risking their lives for the soul of the nation. Because of that white folk's was finally starting to feel a little ashamed of all them lynchings 'n stuff they let pass.

We was putting up da first satellites, and planning to go to da Moon! For those of you who wasn't there I got' a tell ya this country was hot shit in them daze! Imagine...our folks had good jobs, gas was cheap, we had TV, and was watching till them radioactive cows came home! Eh...we sort of set A-Bombs off a lot. 

The schools worked, da trash was collected, Santa came every Christmas, we had flesh-colored Band-Aids...only pink but it was a start. That and any work'n Joe could buy a house. Shit! We had big plies of H-fucking Bombs and zillions of new B-52' to deliver them! So nobody dared give us crap. Not only that, but polio was licked, and comic books was 10 cents.

Hey! Was that a "Golden Age" or what?!!

Well, in da middle of all that bright and happy noise I decided I wanted to be a Boy Scout! 'Made sense given da times. I wanted to serve my country...over easy with fries. It was "Camelot" big time back then, and I wanted to do my bit for "Kennedy and Country!"

Also in my pubescent mind I figured da scouts was just da place for "Colored Sissy" kid, with Anarchist tendencies. I figured getting in would be no problem. After all I was real smart cute, sweet, and polite as hell! I also had the da frigging "Pope", my Mommy, and Robert Kennedy's Justice Department on my side.

How could I lose?

I had visions of wearing one of them "Smokey da Bear" hats that scouts gets ta have. Boy those things is neat! Better than cowboy hats any day. Anyway, I was dreaming of that, and all them badges, ribbons, medals', assorted bright and cheerful doodads they heap on ya in da scouts for being a good kid.

'Course then there was da official "Boy Scouts of America!" hatchet, canteen, compass, handbook, and surplus national guard folding mini shovel dancing like sugar plumbs over my innocent, and curly head! Eh...to say nothing about them cute scout short pants and knee sox. Well, okay that was a later fetish, but still ya gets the idea.

Let me tell you of my innocent boyish scouting visions...

I saw me, and my new scout pals out in da wilds tracking hunting mountain lions, digging up Spanish gold! building tree houses, sighting UFO's. We'd be capturing Atomic Spies, rescuing kat's, exploring unknown caves, and make'n friends with da Indians.

We'd be tying all sorts of knots, painting ourselves up like Sioux Warriors, eating wild berries shitting in da woods, wiping our butts with leaves. We'd run on all fours like wolves, and howl at da moon! To relax we'd go nekkid skinny dipping, have kissing contests, and build model airplanes!

At night under da stars we'd sing doo-wop songs, cook foot long kosher hot dawgs over a roaring campfire, and tell scary stories about robots from Neptune attacking Pittsburg. At bedtime we'd open up surplus air force parachutes use them as our communal tents. We'd all say our prayers, kiss each other good night, cuddle up like puppies, and slip into the gentle arms of Elysium. Perhaps some few might stay awake to chase fireflies or recite poetry to each other. Oh, such a sweet and innocent vision.

Unfortunately, 'none' of this swell shit went down. What did happen was...

My Mom: "What did you say?!"

Scoutmaster: "Eh...I'm sorry but it's just policy". "There's nothing I can do about it.
This troop doesn't admit Coloreds."

My Mom: "But this school which is integrated. The troop is part of this school."

Scoutmaster: "Technically yes, but the board has the final say in these matters.
As I said I'm sorry we can't admit your son into our program."

My Mom was gonna slug this jerk, but didn't because he seemed, (to her at least), ashamed of having to do this foul shit to someone. I'd have slugged him anyway, and maybe burned the school down too. Anyhow the 'I'm just following orders' cog went on to tell my Ma of another troop that was willing to take 'some' Negros. ...Swell. That bunch was a long bus ride away so thanks, but no thanks said my Ma.

Boy! ...All that evil crap going down just 'cause I wanted to wear a "Smokey da Bear" hat. Nice world we got here...swell. Thing is I didn't hear about any of this for years. My Mom did what all folks do. They protected their kids from evil as long as they can.

She told me this fuzzy story about there being no room that season. 'Made sense. Remember it was the height of da "Baby Boom" era. There was zillions of us kids all over da place. Hell, we was "Climbing in through da windows"...to quote Holden Caufield. So yeah, I bought it.

Next year I asked again...same story. The year after that I didn't ask...didn't wanna be a scout anymore anyway. Had other problems...like slamming headfirst into my teen years. A nightmare of burning dumpsters on greased skates full of deep shit and crushed desires.


Well, the seasons passed, and with one thing, and another I found myself a young man. Eh, perhaps I should put that another way. Never mind, look it was 1976 the Bi-Centennial year. We'd just lost the Viet-Nam War, there were mile long lines for petrol, the economy was in the toilet, Ford Pinto's were spontaneously combusting on our highways, we'd stopped going to the moon, or anywhere else for that matter. People thought platform shoes were cool, and the first rumblings of the Drug Wars were being heard. Yeah, da 70's... swell.


70's or not ya only gets one "Bi-Centennial" to a country, so we celebrated. I had gone home to visit my folks...I was living out west back then. I was sitting in the front room of da old family place watching the parades, and mayhem with my Ma. We finally got a color TV. Dad didn't want to get one. He thought they caught fire. A common notion back then.

Anyway, there was guys dressed in civil war uniforms re-enacting hell on earth. After a bunch of beer commercials six-gun tote'n cowboys showed up and shot at each other for a while. Then some white guys dressed as Indians did some sort of phony Native dance. Then a float with astronauts on the moon we no longer went to.

Next some old guy's weary fez caps driving "Model T's" chugged by. This was followed by high school "ROTC" drill teams goose stepped down 5th avenue. They flipped their M-1 carbines all over da place. A bunch'a folks dressed like pilgrims drinking Cokes on a flatbed pulled by oxen. All this followed by some poor slobs in hot dog suits shoveling up after them.

Yep that's "America" alright...recognize her anywhere.

After a while on comes the Boy Scouts, hundreds of 'em! Aw gee, they was wearing their "Smokey da Bear" hats too! Wow da boys was having a great time marching and horsing around with each other. I mentions to my mother that it was too bad about all that "overcrowding" when I was a kid. I told her that I really, really wanted to be a scout back then.

My Mommy gets quiet, she looks at me, and tells me da whole story..., all of it.

Like I said, parents, the good ones protect their kids. Protects their Innocence as long as they can. Many seasons later. Long after my Mommy had gone to Heaven. I got a call from my sister. She said her son, my youngest nephew had been called "nigger" at school that day. He was still crying...so was my sister. ...So it begins.

Let kids enjoy their Innocence for as long as possible. But when the demons finally approach your walls of love. Make them ready. Teach them to face the fire and survive.

(Btw... I still want one of them "Smokey the Bear" hats...I really do.)

Amen.

Wrote this over 20 years ago.

 

Get your booster shot while you still can. 

Feds are cutting off support. 

They’re about to charge full cost for them. 

Since clearly, we’re back to normal. 

I mean other than for example.

 The President First Lady and assorted staff are infected we’re fine.

"...Ukrainian Independence Day"

 

One side has ethnic civil liberties issues.

Including against mine.

The other is committing deliberate open 

crimes against humanity.

I chose a side.

 

A FB pal thinks folks don’t wants to hear about his troubles…bleep that! ‘Said, we likes you Raw Hard and Un-Cut! 'Bunch of us been there This here was in a meds report on me once: 'Social phobias uneven diet solitary and symptoms of depression’. Read like the synopsis for a 70’s Fassbinder flick. Bleep it…I got better or at least my writing did. We’re all in this thing together.

(...from my FB page the other day.)

From an online pal.

He did this one during London's Lockdown.

 

Except for the sun visor this is exactly my Dad's car. A 1950 swayback Buick. On a Saturday afternoon in Summer he'd pile all of us kids plus any of our pals from the block that were on our stoop at the moment into that beauty.

My Mom for a time called it the "Black Beauty".

We'd the lot of us be packed in there windows open laughing hollering, and Dad would drive us to Coney Island! Rides Ice Cream Hot Dawgs the works. My Dad was a very kind man. He, and Ma I later learned were deliberately giving us happy memories. These to sustain us in our coming lives.

"...yeah, another one"

COVID Journal: December 29, 2020.

Life at Home. Day 271...I think.

Now I hardly do anything. I did work on my digs through the months. Through Spring Summer now Winter. I ended up painting where I painted plastering where I plastered. I wrote did art slept a lot. Spent too much time online.

Now I just sleep sit eat...repeat.

Mortality is a vivid anxiety more than last spring. Nightmares. Emptiness. Yet we go on. ...the little things get you by. Our lives our histories memories are multi-dimensional. Sights smells sounds emotions spiritual tingling's of the un-nameable.

Keep these things in your hearts.

"...history"

More from my COVID-19 Journals.

Beginning of NYC Social Lockdown March 23rd, 2020.

There, and back again. My adventure out getting my meds and doing essential errands. Both the streets, and trains were empty. I was mostly alone. Like a Sunday morning at 5am. On the streets I was not within 50 feet of anyone. I took care of my affairs. Went to the also empty supermarket. I checked first for crowds. …empty. However, price gouging has begun.

When I came home showered. Washed then wiped with an alcohol-water solution as they suggest. Put my things in a laundry bag and sprayed with disinfectant. ...that one a bit much but still.  Helicopters buzzing about. NY Air National Guard. Life in wartime. I saw an Army medical convoy on the parkway. Coming from the direction of the airport. TV sez an effective vaccine could be two years away.  

The earth abides. 

Trees are budding much more than when I was last out. Grass starting to poke up. There was no mail delivered. No current newspaper at the market.  I’m starting dinner. Rice veggies chicken. 

All is quiet. Life goes on.

(At the start of this Pandemic era they said we should all keep a journal. Not for us. We're too close to the chaos. Also few may want to remember. As they didn't after the 1918/19 Pandemic. These notes are for history.)

Life and times. Earlier in the week I got an email from the library. They send you shit a day or two before the due date. So off I went. The sun was high it was humid, and at or near 90f~32c. I was going out for more peaches and stuff anyway.

The library doors being wide open, and no one inside were bad signs. Their climate control blew out. ...was 250f in there. They were waiting for a City repair crew to come. ...good luck.

However, a few brave librarians remained at their sweaty posts. There ready to help anyone dumb enough...like me, to enter that oven. Bless Librarians. Bless fruit stores too. Senior citizens would hardly eat without them. Swell stuff, and all priced to go.

I've read that this sort of thing. Commenting on everyday life has no value. FB especially is a waste...well it is but not for that. The details of a life matter. Where would historians be without diaries. They couldn't make them bad period piece movies without them.

Anyway, after the library deep fry. I thought of sitting on a Parkway bench but remembered that might be suicidal. I could get shot stabbed or fall asleep like last time with heat stroke as a danger. Bleep it. I love life in da big City. So sat watched humanity pigeons and overpriced cars wander by.

I made it home took a cold shower to lower my body temps... saw that in a movie about the end of the world. Imagine once when a lad I liked it hot. However back then the ocean wasn't rising the glaciers weren't melting, and it wasn't 98f degrees for months.

Back in da day. Folks didn't have to carry water, and heat shelters were in the Sahara Desert. Not Brooklyn. Anyway, Life more or less goes on.

Be kind and laugh as much as possible.

Always loved this opening scene.

 

"...News from the Front"

On the upside I collapsed in my hallway. This time I remember going down. Recall last month when the same happened. I came to on the floor vision grey unable to move. Thought that was the ball game. It had an effect on my attitude.

This time I was there for the whole show. Da ninth inning for sure...again. But after a bit I felt this wasn't as dramatic. I could move in a few moments. Didn't crawl to the local Mc-Clinic this time. Too tired pissed off. One can only take so much fun at once. 

That and perhaps I spoke too soon about the extreme heat waning. It was 89f and 93 in my digs. That in combination with all my usual co-morbidities did the trick. I hope this doesn't become a habit. 

So I keep my AC on all the time and drink iced tea sugared or not like it was Cocaine Cola. I'm 238 and shit like this is supposed to happen. Still, it takes getting used to.

As for news from the front. 

Ukraine is still a mix of business as usual and hell on earth. I mean I see videos of Russians and Ukrainians within earshot of artillery just going about their lives. 

When that Russian naval base was rocketed by Ukrainians. Folks was sitting around the shore under beach umbrellas...with burning ships in the background. Same with Ukrainians. Summer shopping with the kids with the thunder of bombs in the distance. 

Was like this in the London Blitz. Life goes on life finds a way. So my elder medical drama is small French fries. Big fries to me but in da scheme of shit...ya know.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Trosky and Frida Kahol.

For Fox News fans,

 Frida is in the center. As if Trosky had a chance.

Commie trading cards!

Gets da whole set.

See how the entire 20th century was fucked over.

Soon Fascist cards!

Shit heads of the past present and future.

See how like HIV these guys will never go away.

 

 

"...time and again"

Sometimes I still drag out my electric trains.

I honor my dad with them. He loved trains and

had a vast layout in our basement.

However, respect for the past seem a fading thing.

Like all of our stuff it will end up in a dumpster or on eBay.

Sold by relatives to whom these means nothing.

Was watching a Japanese douc about that.

The belongings of elders are spurned. 

This except for what cash they can be turned into. 

The douc was how the young seem to have contempt for the elderly. Want no part of them or their stuff.

This runs counter to centuries of tradition.

We here never had a real respect for elders so it's worse.

 

Posted a while ago.

I just loves this. Folks just having fun.

Making stuff and happy.