Thanks for the times

I know I laugh at things that I actually might want to take more seriously, and I sometimes can't hold back and bust out to the confused looks of people trying to maintain their bullshit, but yesterday was one of those prize winning days of complete abandon.
I'm on my third phone from Verizon aka the store in the fourth ring of hell; this one seems to be working and so all is well, but the store manager was involved and she had the highest voice I've ever heard, and when she spotted the Regional Manager who happened to wander over to me, thinking I was just a regular customer, and I was in the middle of sharing my tale of woe, the decibel levels actually were off any human hearing chart as she came over to shepherd her away from me, all the while saying that I was having a great time with my new choice and seeming, in my mind, to actually be about to burst into some sort of combustible beast.

Through the window

In or around 1984, my friend Hugh my old boyfriend Paul , and I, sat through fourteen and a half hours of Berlin Alexanderplatz, and then like zombies, we left before it was over because we just could not take anymore of the relentless weight of Franz Biberkopf 's burden of life; or maybe we were just stupid assholes who had had enough.
I've had enough of Jake. This is like a bad after school special. He is so full of himself and his life and we are just here to clean up the mess.
Now, I reference my ability for endurance, for a number of reasons, the first being, that I was probably very similar in my selfishness or lack of consideration, so I understand that it is part of the package of teenage hood. However, I don't care about any of that, I'm tired of trying to relate the experience to my own in order to figure out how I'm going to deal with it. He lies, steals and manipulates; that's the bottom line, and even though I love everything else Fassbinder did, there is a point where it may be disappointing, but you have to just get up and walk away.

Not just for some

How is this a sign, or here is another one. Old white guys get a sign now.

It has to have just evolved in the last few years, with the graying of America and all. But on my drive to work, it's either the Geese or the golfers I have to watch out for, and really I tend to be more careful of the fowl.
Eamon does an impression of an angry goose, and then of the one trying to get away. I wish there were two of him so that we might actually make a one act play out of it.
But none of that is what I'm here to talk about today. I turned the TV on last night for a minute. I wanted to see if Diners, Dives and douche bags was on because I like when this guy, who happens to be named Guy, goes to places where they eat lots of food, which is every show and every stop he makes. If it was my show, I'd weigh 300 pounds. It wasn't on, but The Girls Next Door was, and they were having a doggy birthday party. Holy shit, how do I get drawn into this stuff, I really think it's about looking at their breasts and hair, because it's sort of like staring into the sun, you don't really want to, but feel compelled because they are not of this world. How is that stuff desirable; this question coming from someone who is usually attracted to men who could either be homeless, or just retro, sometimes it's hard to tell.
Anyway, when the revolution comes, I'm personally going over to the mansion and having a talk with the ladies about a better way to spend their time, and then, I'll be getting some fashion tips for the New World Order.

For the good times

Should I bitch about my three hour sojourn to Verizon, dare I complain about the lack of technical skills and or anything for that matter, behind the dead eyes of the people "helping" me. No, because it would do no good and be fairly dull.
I would however like to talk about something that wasn't at all tedious or draining, and that was watching the movie The Golden Door. I have seen some great movies this year, but this one, is full of that whimsy and heartbreak and perspective into a world that I'd say almost everyone has had some level of experience, either with a parent or a grandparent, but not from the enormous task represented here, involving the journey to America and the process itself. It's a wondrous experience, I wanted to stop the DVD and hug the TV but I'm too static.

Now I've done it

I have expectations, yes they are unrealistic in most places, but not at the Hessler Street Fair where time has stopped as of 1972. There are no corporate sponsors, or big franchise food service. There is a lot of patchouli and hemp. There is a entire row of public and political oriented materials. And, there is the stage resplendent with tie dye and lots of hair. I really feel at home on Hessler and have been going there for more than thirty years.

Now, when it comes to work, I try to be receptive to both the public, and the people that I work with. But on both counts when things get out of hand, or people blow things out of proportion I just give up immediately and once my opinion has been swayed by their behavior, I have to say generally it doesn't return to a favorable perspective. One of the most annoying and point of no return kind of things happened to me at work on Friday. I wanted to set up a new display with books on barbecuing, and it caused half a day of negotiations and back and forths between myself, and two coworkers and some Pages. As far as I see it, and I see pretty far, that is one of the most fucked up things someone can do. To make conversation about a non-issue like where we are going to put some books, is an enormous waste of time and doltish, yet the drama, breast beating and inclusion of a multitude of people in the decision making process only seems to prove that people will do anything to add some sensation to their lives, even if it's meaningless and empty.

How do you measure

Three hours. That's how long the High school Pops concert was on Tuesday night. The concert itself was actually two but you're an idiot if you leave after dropping off your kid, because you'll never get a parking spot and or a reasonably good seat.
What struck me, and you know something always does, is how retarded it is to ooh and ahh at our kids as if they were just the best, most talented people walking the earth.
Some of them actually are; Annie replicas or at least that's what I call them. These girls have this professional Ariel from the Little Mermaid, atonal thing going on, and they act when they sing, not just emote. Of course there are like three people who keep popping up in every performance, not that I'm bitter or anything. And then there is just the concept that we're the ultimate captive audience, because what choice do we have, one or more of our children are up their on that stage, and we better get something more out of the experience besides for a really sore ass.

It's gone wrong again

Today is one of those days where nothing feels, fits or sounds right. I have double sided tape on my shirt because it keeps gapping and I look like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. This of course only happens when I'm at work, so there is no recourse except to shake it off and make it through the day, with constant checking and adjustments.

When you watch people, which is a huge, and actually sanctioned part of my job, there are so many sort of tics that people have regarding their apparel or hair. It's not usually as bad as a major league baseball pitcher, but they can seem kind of compulsive nevertheless.
If there wasn't this internal pressure regarding appearance, and if the origin of it was obvious, would we find something else to fixate on regarding how we measure our worth? Probably; and it would most likely be equally self destructive, because apparently that is a part of our nature that can weigh more than the logic and understanding that the behavior is unnecessary and usually causes irreparable damage, at least to clothing.

What the hell am I doing here

In 1969 when we went to Turkey for a year, our first stop was England, I changed into a nightgown on the plane because the flight was overnight. It was TWA and then there was Pan Am. After that, there were smaller airlines, Turkish, Greek and other off brands. Those planes rattled and their generic nature was obvious because there were no travel sized bottles of lotion in the bathrooms for me to have.
The new picture on the right is of me in front of the Parthenon. I'm not sullen though I may appear to be, what I'm actually doing is posing like a Greek statue, or perhaps Goddess. Look at that hair! In Turkey and Iran when the older women would grab me to take me to show their families behind walls or Persian rugs hanging, initially I would be scared but after the first time, I found out that all they wanted to do was touch my head, because the hair color was other worldly in that place. Imagine, me being the item of interest.

It's all so clear

Jake and I are in negotiations for his prodigal return.
When I was young and wanted things badly, I would do almost anything to get them. I could be manipulative, would lie, yell, charm and sell out any form of honor to achieve my goal.
The worst part of this behavior, is that it wasn't for anything important, like working towards a career or getting into a school, those things didn't mean as much to me as being where I wanted to be, at that moment, and being with the person or people that I was desirous of being around.
So, earnestly and with great remorse, I know exactly where Jake is coming from. On some level I can forgive myself, because some part of that behavior was teenage like, a bit normal perhaps, but coming down through my mom, myself and him, is one ugly mess of confusion, fear, anxiety and subsequently guilt. All for what? A momentary victory over nothing more than myself squared.

It was pure

Too much, too many things going on to have any semblance of thought any plan and or any ability to maintain any sense of order.
I've been working on a bigger more universal subject, but all that I've been able to address is the evil and devious nature of power and greed, and how those things have shaded our culture. The blind adherence to hierarchy and then in my case with Jake the absolute challenge to any authority or person who might have a clue.
I've come up with the idea, that the nature of evil and the opportunity that groups such as the present administration and or say,the Nazi regime , take advantage of is, that if they give each individual who participates or works for them, they allow them only a partial picture of the the enormous scheme, say a unmerited war or perhaps the allowance of drug companies to have paid personnel working for them and the FDA, then those people or cogs shall we say,will be able to live with their limited knowledge or understanding. Which, they could not do if they had the whole enchilada on their plate. The simplicity of that plan is so benign and completely hideous, that of course it works.