"...RFD"

This rant inspired by a dear old comrade's soon attendance at her 60th Kindergarten Reunion. This shows how varied American culture is. Kindergarten Reunions like Black Barber Shop Culture are things that make American great ...again. Well, that and 80's Gay bar music but that's another rant.

See swell gay bar music below.

As a little kid I remember them Black barber shops as the only places folks told the truth about life. I recall their reaction to 'Sputnik' yeah, I'm that old. Them Shop folks really didn't like sending that doggo and later others to die in the unfunny monotonous void. Black folks 'really' likes animals. A southern culture holdover. 'But I digress.

'Kindergarten' seemed a profoundly suburban TV sitcom thing. See un-integrated image above. As opposed to them giant Southern Family Reunion Bar-B-Q's. Which also makes America great. They're common for folks in the South of all races. Odd like the Klan they never showed up on 'Mayberry RFD'. Btw there's a seriously big regional industry for assorted reunion merchandise. Including stuff involving helicopters. ...???

As for kindergarten most of us were usually just dumped into first grade like totally untrained raw Russian draftees sent to the Ukrainian front. Then told 'good luck' see you if ya not dead. I mean I'd heard of kindergarten...but why? From my urban and class warfare life experience it seemed as remote, and Bizzaro world as cotillions. I'm not against them I just don't get it...sort of like bicycles for cats. Eh which now that I think about it could be a thing. Hint...don't eat the yellow snow.

 

"...On the happier side of the news"

Click on where it sez You Tube to view.

Blogspit is uptight about this.

Watching dope adverts online. Don't know if on TV yet.

"Stick Icky" as it sez. Life in da future.

Me...it mostly just puts me to sleep. This after I ate everything sweet in sight. 

I used to tell friends at parties no thanks unless I can sleep over.

~LOOKS LIKE THE'RE BLOCKING THE DOPE COMMERCIAL~

A PAL TRIED AND GOT AN OLD SONG.SO DID I. 

I TRIED A FEW TIMES NO DICE. 

~FUCK' EM. ~

 

"...The living end"

Drone-camera glides about my darken digs. Paint peeling away. Windows broken. No matter since it’s now high summer year-round. Half curled yellowed poster of Jimmy Hendrix on the wall. A water replicator in the kitchen as piped was cut off years ago in the rationing. Some tattered comics scattered about.

My old flat screen in the corner. Unused in over a decade since everything is in the Cloud. The camera slowly floats up. It’s 2044 I’m 94 and reclined in my old reading chair. IV nutrients, and cocaine cola stabbed into my functioning veins.

These feedings maintained by “Satan on Wheels”.
A private charity that filled the niche left when Medicare Social Security, and kindness were defunded. I’m wearing a sniper proof vest, and helmet.  Got my FCC elder-plan VR-AI goggles on, and I’m happily in dream-realm. I wander the “Neo-Woodstock Dadaist Ballet”.

My “Satan-on Wheels” do-gooder home visitors check my signs…yep breathing, and brain waves still there. Online status…still in the “Ballet” and with a meds induced big bleep-eating grin on my aged face. The crew signs off on my account. They go next door to check on the 110-year-old retired fireman. That guy is always downloading “West World” …thinks he’s a robot cowboy. It’s the end of the world, but everybody’s happy.

"...In Other News"

Right so I'm here minding my own damned business and like an idiot I switch on da news. Just in time to hear that the Russians are calling our bluff. They say we won't go to WW3 just for Ukraine. So they can use nukes there if they need to...and they need to since they're losing. They're getting their commie butts kicked. 

That and there's literally 10+ mile long lines of cars full of potential conscripts at the border trying like fuck to get the hell out of Russia. They get what's waiting for them Ukraine.

Wait gets better. 

They then put on some American general big shot who said if them Russki jerk offs set a Nuke off anywhere it's curtains. They do it in the Arctic or Black Sea or anywhere outside their borders as a warning or anywhere 'in' Ukraine. NATO will enter Ukraine. He went on that we would defeat and force out the Russian forces in 96 hours. It would be a Desert Storm scenario.

Well, this shit got my attention.

I might as well cook up some popcorn suck down a diet Pepsi put my feet up go online and watch shit go to hell. All this because one demented asshole thinks he's Catherine the fucking Great. Why don't somebody over there put a damned fucking 9mm hello in his fucking deranged head?! 

So how do ya likes da 21st century so far?

"...slack"

The nuns used to tell us that we can commit a sin just by thinking about it. 

This a variation of #45's recent delusion.

I thought well that’s it we’re all going to hell. 

On the other hand they might cut me some slack. 

However, if I got scooped up in that rapture and ended up in an evangelical nightmare. 

I would petition to be sent somewhere else. 

Maybe dog heaven or Cincinatti in 1956.

 

"...Live life"

 

"...two scoops"

An online friend just said at 76 he didn't know how much time he had.

I said "I'm right behind ya at 73 and I don't know either.

However, I went for a midnight walk in traffic.

It seemed a good idea...

got ice cream at a deli went home and watched some weird movies.

Days go by the earth abides. ...be well."

 

 

"...Watch the skies"

From my kitchen Observatory.

Close ups of dusk.

Took out the glare and all this appeared.

Wonders right before us every day.

~Click to view~

 

Brooklyn's national bird the Pigeon.

Saw it across from the fire station yesterday.

I think the French eat them.

They would.

 

Been writing missives posts through these times. Like cloistered nuns and monks, we’ve been at it. Dreaming and writing. Perhaps as back in the day when them New Hampshire ladies did Abolitionist broadsides. That and in their diaries remarking on their times. Thereby opening a door on what was really going on back there. Letters, and diaries is where the real truth of any era is to be found. Now emails and posts. Keep writing. ...the future is reading.

Dear Santa, I know it's kinda early, but I want one. 

I been a good senior citizen so how 'bout it?

Also be nice if it can cook drive me around go to the 

post office and handle my social security paperwork that'd be cool. 

 Btw I'm still wailing for that Schwinn bike you promised in 1959.

 

Putin sez he ain't kidding.

If we piss'em off, he'll use Nukes. He don't mean maybe.

Hearing this Bob da Bunny went to Vegas

for booze bucks and dope. Said it only seemed reasonable.

 

Did another midnight wander.

Been told this is dangerous.

Not really if one knows the woods.

Days go by.

The earth abides.

From my life and times. With Summer receding in our collective rear view mirrors. This came to me. Memories of when I was trapped like a bug in the loving amber of my family. In this case the summer baked vinyl seats of my dad's 50's Buick. Once upon a time: We’re on Eisenhower's new Interstates coming back from the beach. I’m six with a butt full of gritty sand my little sister Sylvia on my lap on either side my big brother John, and older cousin Jimmy. 

We’re all jammed onto a back seat that spent the afternoon cooking. I think most of us have been there. We were the hapless victims of the American industrial infotainment hegemony. Oh, the mid-20th Century dreams of TV dinners going to da moon, and segregation. We shall never see their ironic likes again. 

...mostly.

A side bar to all this. While at the beach I wanted to wear my mom's sunglasses. I wasn't allowed. Only mothers' movie stars, and drug addicts did that. My dad wasn't about to let any of these careers befall me. It was a close thing. Mother drug addict movie star...no. Queer artist radio broadcaster...yes. I was just trying to make dad proud.

Walked in traffic at midnight.

If it weren't for the fact I'd have got run over.

I would'a done this stupid stunt stoned.

 

 

If Thurber came back working-class Black and lived in da Hood. He'd be writing drawing anti-postmodern graphic novels and composing rap operas. The New Yorker might print his stuff. ...again. Above...Thurber last time around being himself 1927.

We are all part of something vast and wonderful. There’s no separation between us and eternity. Forever and forever above us. Kindness courage wit. That’s a beginning. Dogmas hierarchies tribalisms are tragic. Be thoughtful kind and brave. Aspiring to these is a good start.

Have a touch of social phobia. Despite having been a very minor public person for decades. My shrink said I was "...functionally nuts". Reasons for my population of dolls and toys. Trying to work my way up to a Cat. Comment: Erin Gay Crawford: "Love your sense of humor, your quirky personality. Dolls, toys and the colorful pics with your attached writing add humor and insight." Reply: "I want you to write all my reviews. They're better than the ones I write for myself."

A kitchen memory: In 4th grade we got a heads up on pi.

Divide 22 by 7 into eternity. I remember it was hypnotic.

We couldn’t stop. It was win-win.

They got us into math and shut us all up at the same time.

Which is the key to World Peace.

Everybody shut up and eat cake. You’re welcome.

Sitting counting eternity at 5:52am.

Up since afternoon.

My days are asymmetrical.

Have been since lockdown and before.

Tweaked some old doll shots.

Took these a decade ago.

I went looked back on old blogs pages.

 So I have the exact date.

September 14, 2012.

Just after Storm Sandy the drowned the City.

We never built that dike around the city.

We forgot how destructive the storm was.

We'll remember next time.

Images I took were murky weird.

Way worse than above.

So I did by hand what there are apps for now.

More fun this way. Did the best I could. 

If I weren't so flued up, I'd have re-shot them.

Other than health food education and art.

We don't need much. Not much at all.

If we have each other and dreams.

 

"...time and again"

Been flued up for days.

Every movement is in slow motion.

Wandered out to market.

Meds, food and ice cream. My insides raw.

Ice cream goes down easy and stays down.

The setting sun is moving.

She's headed south shorter days.

Was chilly last night first time in months.

Days go by the earth abides.

 

 

Is there a legal limit to the number of bad days you can have in a month?

...asking for a friend.

“…frenzies”

The South has nationalist frenzies from time to time. 

The 1860’s 1920’s 1960’s and again now. 

This as they deport Hispanic migrants to cities in the North in spite. 

The Civil War settled that we were one country. But it didn’t address what kind. 

We are a young evolving republic. 

Still fighting foundational wars over our identity. 

Currently it’s amongst Liberal Democracy Predatory Capital Oligarchy 

or a mob driven Nationalist Autocracy.  The latter two seem united.

The debate continues. 

Above flag of the Union Army of the North. 

They emancipated my family’s Slave ancestors in Ocean Springs Mississippi in 1865.

"...wings"

We should all make art especially now. The world is very busy doing its usual. We need to be busy being our better selves. So be kind smart brave and do art. Any kind any dream. Expressing our dreams is an ancient skill. We’ve been at it for near a million years. I’d say our older cousin Australopithecus aka Betty was on to something. …when in doubt add wings.

"...2.0"

 ...everything is different, but nothing has changed.

Days go by.

'Severe thunderstorms pummeled the tri-state area overnight

triggering booming thunder strong rains

and a brief tornado in Brooklyn and Queens.' NBC.

I was awake for all that.

The rain drummed all the windows pounded the roof like Storm Sandy.

Winds made the building shudder. Part of the passing Tornadoes.

This as I watched the Royal pageantry online.

The Queen went out with a bang.

 

"...BMT"

My friend Marc Kehoe reminded me that there are still NYC subway lines that have above ground sections. This technically makes them EL-Trains. I was thinking of the Atlantic Ave. BMT which was torn down. This is what my Ma took us on during those spur of the moment adventures. In the 50's there were still a few 1920's carriages with roll up walls for summer. I remember these so well. It was like riding the roller coaster.

"...too much information"

The neat thing about being all fevered up is that you're floating. Everything is bright and drifty. If this how ones last days are I'm cool with it. Also the dreams. Keep seeing all the dead folks I used to know...like my ma and kids from when I was little.

I've dreamed of driving too. 

I'm a New Yorker haven't sat in a private car in years not driven in decades. However, like riding a bike or levitating your muscle memory kicks in. I didn't even mistake the brakes from the gas pedal. This happened a few times early on. Luckily in the middle of the night on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in 1970.

Other than sharp pain delusions and sweats I'm swell...could be worse. It's actually getting a bit better. Be up and complaining in a week or so. Exiting from both ends hungry and barfing at the same time. The wonders of nature never end.

Stay tuned.

From my fire escape observatory.

 

Was under the weather but went to the park.

Waiting for the colors. I thought sitting in the sun would help.

It did a bit. But I may take time off here for a while.

I just need to rest. Loves you folks.

I set my dark matter pocket watch and portaled.

Benson Wisconsin June 3rd, 1957, 4:02pm.

There 19 seconds' subjective time. One quick image.

Today she'd be a 75 year old woman.

Her family passing on her very strange tale.

That of the day a man appeared in a glowing light on her lawn.

Chicken soup. Exactly what's needed. My radio old pal Jenifer posted she's cooking up a mess of chicken soup from leftovers. The best kind. What with sudden scary cold symptoms I'm doing the same. Thanks to Uncle Biden and Aunt Harris. I have 'four' count'em four Covid test kits. Looks like I'm using one...again. The times are weird nuts and challenging. You folks hang on be well be kind and go to your park.

More from my COVID Journals: September 9, 2021

 

Day 548. ...It's a grey rainy day. I'm leaning against the wall in my hallway staring. Just that, and watching the shadows move as time passes. That is until I sat and read this on a Dr. Who fan page. "It turns out I love everyone I know. That's what you realize while stuck alone in your flat. The people you thought got on your nerves actually don't annoy you at all. You miss them. You miss everyone. Wouldn't it be a terrible life if you didn't have people to miss."