Notes From Ground Level

6 Nov

feeling anxiousness, worry…saw a man almost drown a few days ago. didn’t feel any urge to help. selfishness. self-preservation. both. had he been an animal, I would’ve jumped right in, rip or no rip. people: “I don’t hate them, I just seem to feel better when they’re not around.” Thank you Hank. feeling a combination of luck and doom. remember. Spike’s “Love vs. Hate” speech. just when Doom looks like it’s got Luck on the ropes…hold the presses, here comes Luck with a hook, then a jab, another hook, BAM, an upper cut…Luck takes the round! too many ideas floating around in a washing machine; except not one thing gets cleaned properly…does that count anyway? sure, yeh.

we leave our mark on people like they’re made of clay. we leave our thumb prints. they re-mold and re-shape themselves accordingly. some deceive themselves that they’ve erased the prints. transcended them. it’s never possible. like so-and-so got rid of the memory of his woman…bullshit! so-and-so purged his guilt of this or that, or even murder. and then it’s over. it’s never over. only whisky makes things easier, but doesn’t stop them. got a letter from a friend complaining of banality in life. “what keeps me going?” she writes. how the hell should I know? what keeps ME going? that opening in the clouds when the sun picks a spot and warms it…two fingers of fresh whiskey…a box of hand rolled cigars from the Key West Factory…my cats sleeping wisely with centuries at my feet…the waves rolling in relentlessly with a gentle ferocity boasting the defiance of time and even space…Papa Hem talking of fish, bulls, and dreams on the Pilar…the sun bathing an old house in Tuscany…Shark Key…Bukowski’s suffering in a cheap room with a cheap woman and his salvation through words…Fante blind in his bed, asking the dust; eating a rotten orange…I don’t know what keeps you going sugar, sometimes I’m amazed at how well I pirouette around the urge of sticking my head in the oven. taking the butcher knife to the throat. I don’t know myself…except we have to try to find that break, the opening…otherwise, what’s left?

started writing today, early. going to do a series on dentistry. went to the ocean after; despite the constant cuckolding of a few overweight, over the hill, useless women, found my ray of light. a little blonde girl about 3 yrs. old was picking up shells and putting them in her bucket. every new piece she came upon was like discovering gold in the sifter. THAT is the newness we all lose slowly. some good moments: smoking a cigarette and drinking a Tecate w/lime; calm ocean with small waves washing ashore; seagulls sunbathing, little blue herons drying their wings, my neighbor’s kids jumping into the pool at 9 pm and splashing around quietly; strong coffee and a cigarette in the morning; a small salamander climbing the side of the house, outside my office window.

everybody’s so full of shit! you see their polluting glow in supermarkets, on the street, in bars. rotting corpses, waiting for the inevitable and kidding themselves they’ll somehow get off easy. or not thinking at all, just ravaging through life like blind savages wielding machetes. everybody’s a perjurer, a parasite, a killer of good time waiting to happen. passing time in supermarkets discussing such useless things, it makes me want to pull my fingernails out with needle nose pliers. the stench of people’s futility makes me ill. the fear, the absolute denial of the pain, of death.

my faith lies in the poor, the disenfranchised, the overworked and underpaid, the men that make roads. they are the pillars of humanity. they are the foundation of this world. they are the wheels of the economy.

feeling black-assed like a charred hot dog to-day. some health problems. working on Theroux’s “Mosquito Coast.” great way to keep it going. IT. been sleeping a bit better, though dreams tend to linger on disturbingly, and seep into reality. which is which? the dream state or this? have a bad feeling of having very little time left. also, have a bad feeling of outlasting everyone. I am trapped somewhere in between. what is hell? outlasting everyone? In the midst of a semi-glorious energy crisis. rolling blackouts all over the West. mild panic spreading. gas prices rising. dropping. rising. these fuckos with their SUVs and trucks, they’re going to be the end of us. people are getting laid off all over the place, shit is starting to break loose. I guess the plumber paid a visit and unclogged the pipes. a question that was put to me last night: are all people inherently evil? No, but we are lazy, and when you’re lazy evil is the easiest thing to become.

don’t count on prayer for everyday little things. god’s too busy mucking about with whatever the hell he mucks about with. like: please god, help us have a good week this week; help us get some business so we can make a living. no. Picasso was afraid of death. why did he sleep with so many women? in sheer numbers, they are worse than death. Bukowski endured them all…AND death.

everything’s closing in fast anyway. fast. quick, find an answer…and bottle it for the children. out.

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5 Responses to “Notes From Ground Level”

  1. Geoff 07/11/2008 at 12:14 AM #

    Two Bukowski mentions, along with one Fante (and one of each in the same thought, no less) …. Good, good. I’m in a counting mood this night.

  2. (S)wine 07/11/2008 at 3:50 PM #

    I think Celine originally was in there too, but I redacted him. He’s my Ace up my sleeve. I’ll bring him out when it’s absolutely necessary. Cheers.

  3. Geoff 07/11/2008 at 7:34 PM #

    Always good to have that Ace up the sleeve. And I’m sure you have several Aces in reserve, Alex. To the words ….

  4. Geoff 09/11/2008 at 5:38 AM #

    “we leave our mark on people like they’re made of clay. we leave our thumb prints. they re-mold and re-shape themselves accordingly.”

    *
    Alex — your words above are sticking with me (like a thumb print on the brain, in a good way of course) … the best compliment I could ever offer.

    Cheers, this early Sunday morning!
    Geoff

  5. (S)wine 09/11/2008 at 8:38 AM #

    Thank you Geoff.

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