Friday, April 15, 2016

WHEN

When it's the parked cars that move, and the noisy traffic is like the stillness of a frozen river. Your rotten mind now hollow, a woodwind intstrument to entertain the gods.

Friday, April 8, 2016

DRIVING GORDY TO SLEEP

I was saddened by the sight of an old woman sitting peacefully on her big wrap around porch. A white haired, frail old thing with her hands clasped in front of her, just looking around at it all. It took me by surprise. I had to fight it back. I even let out a little whimper. This is pretty much how I've been lately. I whipped the car around a curve and the bag of groceries fell over on the floor. "GODDAMNIT!" I yelled. "GODDAMNIT!" yelled Gordy. "No, buddy, we don't say that. That's a bad word." "YOU'RE a bad word, Daddy!" He screamed back, kicking his feet against the back of the seat. We passed something dead on the road. A pile of congealed blood like jelly, something somewhat like a face amongst the brown and white fur. Then Gordy started in on his cute little game: "Do you know about fire trucks, Daddy?" "I do!" I told him. "Close your eyes, buddy." "Do you know about cement mixers, Daddy?" "Uh huh." "Do you know about Lightenin' McQueen, Daddy?" "Yeah, I do. Do you?" "N-yes, I do... Do you know about Mater, Daddy?" "Shhhh. Go to sleep, big guy." I watched him take a big long yawn in the mirror. A minute or so later we dropped down and rolled into the parking lot of the park by the river. I cracked a window. A freight train was roaring loud and heavy down the tracks across the water. I kept the engine running and I turned around to look at him. My little guy dressed in all blue was snoring. His head was cocked to the left. His perfect red lips, his ridiculous mop of curly blond hair, his little hands, his everything perfectly still, resting. Outside, the trees were swaying. Clouds were racing in, dark and angry. I thought about my father, my favorite asshole Republican. When would I get to see him again? I need to be near him. Or any of my family? Something was happening, something big. It was certainly happening to me. But I have given up on trying to understand myself. I have given up on a lot of things lately. And it's sad, yes. And humiliating. But while I was sitting here, I hadn't really noticed the birds. They were wild, man, loud as hell. They all seemed to be fucking with each other, darting around after one another in crazy directions like little kids playing tag. A crew was busy renovating a house up on the hill. They were really gettin' after it with their nail guns. The whole world was getting after it. More and more and more and more. What the hell, man? What the fuck are we doing all of this for? How much more more will ever be enough? You know, I had never had surgery before, and I will admit here and now that being "under" was the most perfect time I've ever spent alive on planet Earth. Should I feel guilty about that? I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore. At this moment as I'm typing these words into my phone, Gordy is starting to toss around a bit. Soon he'll be awake and all hell's probably gonna break loose. Or maybe not? You never know with that guy. A couple just got out of their car with their dog. A big black bear of a thing. A well loved, well cared for, well behaved, pet. And now a big goofy goose goes barreling through the air above us all, literally honking. I laughed out loud: "Haha! Look at that fucker!" "Daddy!" said Gordy. "Hey! Did you have a good sleepy?" "Daddy, do you know about Star Wars, Daddy?" I put the car in reverse as I smiled at him in the mirror. "Yeah, I do," I told him, rolling us back, "Do YOU know about Star Wars, Gordy?" "N-yes. I do.... Do you know about...."

Sunday, September 27, 2015

"Invoking posterity is like giving speeches to worms." -Ferdinand Celine, one of the most miserable humans to ever walk the earth, and my hero.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

POOR TEXAS

"Poor Texas, carved into like all the rest." -Sam Shepard, San Marcos, Texas. 3/1979

WALMART, THE AMERICAN DREAM

Here's a story which shines a light on the disgust I have with rogue capitalism which, in my opinion, is the seed of most of the depravity in this country: This took place in Durango, Colorado. Walmart wanted in but the town wasn't having it. They tried I think 4 times and got shut down. So one of the Waltons moved in. I forget which one. He bought the largest portion of private land in the area. He got into local politics, got to know the people, gave to all their charities, got himself on the city council and championed their causes. Then, of course, he applied again. And, of course, this time, they allowed the new Walmart. He immediately sold all of his land he owned and moved. Here's the worst part: the land he bought had some sort of stipulation attached where it was pre-set to be bought by outside investors at an agreed upon price with the condition that the Walmart would come to fruition. Another sick thing I recently learned from this old man who lives out there from time to time, who just bought one of my paintings is this: Walmart will build two Walmarts in a particular area, in two different towns, squeezing out all competition, then they will close one Walmart to cut costs, knowing that the people of the one town will drive to the other Walmart. The cherry on the top is the gas station that they will put in only at the new Walmart. Haha. And I'm sure Donald Trump would see nothing wrong with this sort of behavior. My point of all of this is that our entire way of life, outside of a few pockets of intelligent municipalities, is dictated only by big money making more and more money. Drive across America you will see nothing but replica after replica. The same repeating of everything owned by an ever thickening reduction sauce of corporate greed. Each and every one of the restaurants in most of America is replenished by the same silver Sysco truck. Most of those restaurants are owned by the same company and are staged within the same carefully considered proximity from one another. It's hilarious to me how the right is so fearful of "evil" socialism which is so against their American dream that they will blindly support an ever more unfettered hybrid of cancerous capitalism which enslaves them to an extent that at this rate will one day look from the outside like fucking communism. It's all done in defense of a freedom that they're unwittingly tossing right into the diseased mouth of that beast. We are not an intelligent society. Trump is not intelligent. Most Republicans are not intelligent. Power does not equal intelligence. As a matter of fact, it's the more simple, uncomplicated, unimaginative mind in this blighted environment which mixed with access to money tends to get things "done". Progress is seldom progressive and I think we are all waking up from the idiotic stupor called "The American Dream".