"...In other news"

Here I share a missive sent to an old friend. This in answer to: “…How are you?’ A dangerous question to anyone since they may tell you.  Which I did. 

Once upon a time: 

My current life is like driving a 1950 Ford two tone in the Indy 500. Yes, I am moving though not apace with my fellow travelers. Dropouts. Items go missing or appear where not expected from moment to moment. This as mental images vanish as fast as they are imagined. Also I repeat words while speaking or writing not realizing I’ve done it. 

This stage of my low budget musical comedy is…manageable. With my dear Aunt Tempy whom I helped care give for. It was a spiraling format. She lost more and more of herself by the day. I’m told this may not be my future…perhaps maybe.

I am not encouraged.

Especially since my doctors seem to be between 8 and 10 years of age. The elders among them perhaps 14. In gratitude for their kindness, besides Medicare I’ll give them comic books and candy.  Btw my sister wanted to take me to Disney World. This while I still had the cognition to enjoy it. 

Disney and the covertly insidious fantasies they represent have been ongoing gags between us. I hope to go before I have an incontinence episode on Mickey’s ample shoes. Otherwise, I’m just peachy. 

How are you?

I woke up to sirens again. People from the outside from the real world tell me how ever present they are. They wonder how New Yorkers can stand them. To which we all say "...what sirens?"

After getting up I wondered over my dreams. Serious bleep. What with the end of the world in active process. I dreamed of what else...the end of da fucking world.  It was night and tracer rounds filled the sky. Yellow and red streaks over the Emerald City. 

The forces were shooting the hell out of attacking craft. Get this it wasn't da Russians. They looked like 1950's movie space invaders. Gimme a break! But it was real as real as trauma dreams can get. The whole sky lit with fire. Explosions so loud they hurt my ears I felt the rumblings in my chest my eyes flash blinded. Ask great grandma about the Blitz! It was that real.

A dream for our times.

Years of plague and all the social chaos death and divisions it gave us. Then the fucking Fourth World War. I read of a Ukrainian who said she had to hide in the same basement she hid in during the 2nd World War. She was a 93 year old Jewish woman. 

I fucking hate this I hate it all. If I were a Greek gawd I'd be hurling anti-matter lightning bolts and gay wedding cakes at the fuckers that started this.

A story in two parts. Part 1

A smoke event. I smelled that scary smell. "Oh, crap not again!" I looks out da kitchen window...smoke billowing. Not my building...this time. Sirens. A common unending thing here. NYFD shows up and deals with it. They're renovating a brownstone across the way Something ignited building material. No big flames. Just insulation smoking like crazy. Now my digs smell like fried cotton candy and burnt base balls. Were cool here. Life in da big city.

Part II

Our sirens. They herald such drama. Like yesterday when there was that fire across the street. Sirens are the background soundtrack of the Emerald City. Police fire medical. Particularly Medical EMS vans during the worst of the Pandemic. These were unending day, and night.

Mind you in normal times we don't notice the sirens till one of them has your name on it. When the siren drives up to your house or building then...stops. Your heart skips a beat.

Suddenly you're center stage in the vast ongoing story of this town.

But no sooner than you're famous infamous dead or missing. This in your five minutes of fame. The spotlight quickly moves on to some other character player in this City saga. Everyone eventually gets their turn. I loves this town,...in a way.

 

 

"...rain"

Our times. Just woke from this. Burning cloud heaves over Manhattan. Buildings vanish as dreams on waking. Deep reds and black race towards me. Subway. Jupiter Street. Tunnel collapses. The sky is on fire embers of red and orange. I wake wonder sleep. The dream waits. Black rain.

"...News from da front"

First of all it's fucking cold. Da hell is going on?! Maybe it really is global cooling after all. Otherwise I'm swell. At da front I can't help but notice in the 4th European Tribal World War looting is a regular business. 

Them Russkies after the last big one stripped everywhere they eh...liberated bare. If it was nailed down they yanked up the nails and took the stuff...nails too. 

This tradition continues. 

Russia is was and always will be a hybrid 2nd/3rd world tribe . Like we're a 1st and 2nd world bunch. Albeit one with growing 3rd world patches. I know. I live in one. Anyway business as usual at da front. Ya know murder rape as a weapons of war and burning bodies to get rid of the evidence all that.

Da red heroes are stripping farming equipment factories. Plundering John Deer showrooms. Taking everything with wheels. Some are going to Mama Russian the rest tossed to their pals that are helping them. Belarus and Chechnya in particular. Russians get first pick and Chechnya is pissed. No honor among rapists.

Grain. Ukraine is a major bread basket of the whole bleeping World. Seems most of it or at least all they can get their hands on is going east. The fucking Russians need to steal food! Hell in Afghanistan we only stole drugs. Primo shit too so ya couldn't blame da G.I.s

Anyway, that's what gets me. 

A giant industrial nuclear armed space faring tribe has to steal tractors and grain. Well sure the conscripts are looting the hell out of people's homes...while they're still living in them. Which is where all them rapes are happening.  

But damn! 

Look in our 20 year Afghan war we didn't steal fucking tractors or TV's...fer craps sakes. Heroin sure but com'on! Ya gotta admit even if ya a Putin fan the optics are shit.

Speaking of burning bodies. 

The Ukrainians got proof of that rumor that Russian dead are being cremated at the front. This to keep their numbers down. The families get notices their kids are missing. Whereas they're ground up ash dumped in muddy fields. A cremation truck and equipment was found along with a few trucks of dead. Bad shit. 

The Ukrainian tribe still counts and buries their dead.

See above. They understand optics better.

In Vietnam we did almost the same. Didn't burn our dead but suppressed their numbers. Near a 1000 Marines bought it during battles in the A Shau Valley. The numbers were released in lots of 30 or 40 over months. 

Least we didn't burn'em and count them missing. 

I read the red tribe does this not just to cook da numbers...so to speak. But also so they don't have to pay out to the families. Turns out they can't afford to. The "missing" will of course never be found so the price is right.

Man, this is depressing shit.

I'm going for a walk. An American 2nd/3rd world hood is a gated community compared to most of this wretched planet. Heck my odds of coming home alive are slightly better than even. Who could ask for more. Well ice cream which I think I'll get.

Just like old times.

 

Happy May Day Comrades!

A day late.

I bleeping slept through it.

Gimme a break I'm fucking old these days.

Otherwise drink and eat heavily.