Sunday, September 14, 2014
Monday, June 29, 2009
the dog story
two neighbors are standing out in the front yard of a house.
one neighbor says,
"well aren't you worried about your dog running out into the road?"
"that's not going to be a problem. i got one of those electric dog collars for him. if he goes out past my property line, the collar gives him a small electric shock until he's back in the yard. supposedly, they're completely effective."
just then, a dog runs out of the house and into the yard. the dog runs up to the edge of the lawn, stops suddenly, starts making high-pitched cries, falls over, has a convulsion and then bursts into flames.
mentally astounded!
Between the radio waves & the strong magnetic pull on the half of my body thats left & also the railroad train slicing me, Im a nervous wreck. Human Wreckage. Train wreck.
So, Blank Out the Gel Interior! It's so easy to whisk away. Modern, stark surroundings & New Ideas in a chain-link cup for pens. Do I have anything to say about this? NO.
Evil theyll feed ta ya, en-cy-clo-pe-de-a. All game is brain, all name is game but whatll it cost ya ta temper yr sight? Benzedrine, whenever, step in ta th bright.
Ten-ton & one command'll dismiss yr service out of hand.
Blade grade drag down ta thground for yr wage (dig deep down Underground). All name is game, all game is brain. Sweet-talkin to ya, en-cy-clo-pe-de-a.
Go & live like a soda. Live beyond effervescence; live beyond words! & live beyond thought if ya got the guts.
"How dare the world do this to me!?!"
I didnt ask to be here anyway. As Burroughs said, Its hard enough to draw breath on this bloody planet!
Much less be ripped to shreds, literally, not figuratively.
I feel like Ive been cut in half, down the middle. Where one half of my body is, I have no idea. But the other half remaining is being painfully pulled toward the intense magnetic field that comes through the knots in my wood floor. Theyre painful hot-spots when you step on them!
I feel my body shredding to pieces. The feelings indescribable & there aint nobody, not even jesus, that could cure me with a bible or even Nog, by Rudy Wurlitzer.
I wake up. Ive got a fever in my brain. I hear the coming train. I might just lay slain by the blade of the wheels. Back-up to thcoal-car, fire-spits! Pit-pops (hollow pockets of air in coal explode) as an example of how it could be like this. It just goes ta show ya.
If they redesigned this waiting room, so bleak & cold, maybe they wouldnt have as many patients. Ive thought of that possible angle.
Im searching for that elusive chart-list thatll give me the key to get out of my brain. Drugs & alcohol didnt work. Now I gotta think of something quick! The clues in the chart-list, Im sure.
Im sitting on a couch listening to Pink Floyd & those god-damned clock bells keep ringing while everything beneath me, everything that supports me sitting there, (there, not here), everything that supports the house that Im in, everything that supports the earth & the universe, breaks down into medium-sized, spinning cubes that fall & fly away.
Now how disconcerting is that, would you say, as the universe disintegrates & falls away? It's like Dalis The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory or like the ones that he painted with the rhino horns.
Ive been burned too many times. I feel crispy & scared of a few things that are hard to explain. I feel Ive glimpsed the spirit world & the world of all parallel realities.
& its just too much to see. Saw it quickly like a bright back-lit door opening slowly over my right shoulder. Almost like a flash-bulb pop. It led me to chant, I respect the spirit world. I respect the spirit world, though I dont know much about it. I figured Id better be on their good side cause they could probably fuck with ya.
Laid slain by the blade in an idiots cavalcade & also splayed like vivisection. Ive gotta learn to play in a new direction. Ill choose which parties I go to more wisely now or Ill keep running into the same carnage anyhow.
Live beyond words; live beyond people. People you like; people you hate. Live beyond thoughts, like, a soda (counter). Live beyond will & live beyond weight.
* * * * * *
LSD may have freaked me out permanent. But Dr. Seuss may have, too. My mind is floating up there in the firmament. The 5000 Fingers of Dr.T. may also be a clue.
Im mentally astounded! I walk fast in my sleep (my ideas are unbounded & I get in trouble, deep).
Your concerns are unfounded (you inconsequential creep). Day & night Im hounded (more shit for me to speak).
O! to live like this in hell. [get really dramatic with that last line at readings; over-the-top, sonorous voice] To live inside of my head from which I cannot escape is almost like a sentence to a living death. Quick! Whos got the chart-list now? Media is data, how? Whos got the guts to get to the gig? Who wants a job on a rock-star rig?
Radio waves are passing through my body & are weakening my heart. I can feel it. It worsens when I stand near a radio that is turned on.
I know this doesnt make any sense but it is really affecting me & not for the better, believe you me.
See, having this clavicle injury & bad knees cuts my mind in half. You know how it is. Dont go where youre not wanted.
Well, I disagree. Id rather see a pumpkin growin' on a vine than to be involved in what youre involved with right now.
The Birds! The Shredding Birds! So what? Big deal. Katherine Hepburn in that garden of skeletons shrieking, "The Birds! The Devouring Birds!", tryna get Monty Clift ta slice through Liz's Brain & cut out of it what really happened t'Sebastian. Now I got a flash-back t'makin' a Tennessee Williams joke outta my horrible condition with booze & pills atta family counseling thing in some room & I say, "Yeah, I'm doin' th'judygarlandtennesseewilliams thing..." & my brother looks at me angrily & then sez, "He's making a joke out of it."
The blade of the steel wheel slices through spine. Th'locomotives unyielding. It does its job on my body fast. During this, I have a split-second flashback to roast beef being sliced at a deli.
The chart-list got the clue to the effervescent life. Theres nothing you can do but look for it with all your might. Candy-flip changes in the air so dont get it damp cause before youre aware itll be a mental-defective stamp placed on your head like youre already dead so seek the bubbly life. Avoid the pain & knife.
The Brain Boil! The Busy Blanket! The Flash-Fever! Never knowing when it will come! Anytime, anywhere... "You learned not to trust reality as a child, Mr. Cormier. Here're some pills."
See, I'd get these flash-fevers fairly often as a child. My temperature would go up so high & so fast that I'd be hallucinating in a delirium, not knowing who I was or where I was or what planet I was on. Anytime, anywhere.
Brain-Boil Flash-Back: 1974 at th'cottage at Sound View in Old Lyme. Nexta Harford Ave. Th'music in the air is "Beach Baby" by The First Class, "Sail On Sailor" by The Beach Boys. Endless Summer album, top of th'charts. All blastin' outta juke boxes along the Hartford Ave. strip. Dad points out Chesty Morgan reduced to biker bar gig.
At night, back at the cottage I'm readin' Alice In Wonderland. "My how QUEER everything seems today"...
ALERT! ALERT! BRAIN BOIL! BRAIN BOIL! I RUSH to my mother who trys to calm me down. "You're just talking yourself into not feeling right! Get some cookies from the kitchen & you'll be all-right."
But I lift th'cookie-tin lid'n'HORRORFILMMUSIC! BRAIN BOIL! But th'cookies are just full of mold.
The sun goes down, the sun comes up, over & over, over th'Central Park Boat Pond. LSD-fish pop flashbulbs underwater. Sparkling Eye-POP! Like a silver-Gelatin Sunfish burst-flash. You can close your eyes & see the golden eternity. More flash-backs of sun-sprays & resulting rainbows in the water-air in Walnut Hill Park, New Britain, CT. Splashing in the fountain there with other boys in underwear.
Flash forward t'mania manifesto & running my finger up & down the window, making the sun go up & down just like Central Park & th'Alice in Wonderland statue.
Crying about spoons, unchosen.
The long, thin blade of hallucination drags me down underground past the earth & the worms. Do You Like Worms?
Its hard to describe this rationally but its what I feel. Thank god for typewriters to name these cryptic thoughts.
Theres fiber glass flowing through my blood stream & its uncomfortable to say the least, like some nazi torture youd read about.
* * * * * *
What tasteless clown is responsible for the décor in this psychiatric office? Are they trying to drive people crazy? Blank interior; stark surroundings like a clearing house for the mentally ill. Ill take some glitter Gel pens & fix this up real nice with a Lisa Frank inspired design or maybe like Sol Lewitt.
When I got my walking papers I understood that I could walk through any hell. Just screw it, walk right through it, pay no attention to it. Sometimes just falling forward would do it. & youre passing by the people that you know left & right in the infinity & endless planes of existence, seeing every different possible permutation of any situation that could ever have happened but that all did happen in these parallel realities. Seeing it all can flummox you to death. But walk right through it & pay no undue attention to it or fall forward if it breaks down in cubes.
When the world fell to cubes I was on it. It was an unpleasant ride but I done it. But it did a number on my nervous system. I survived but you pay for such rides.
th'Screaming life, brush-stroke air meaning life & then theres always attention on me like Im some kinda a freak to see. I gotta get beyond this battle-ground thing. Since I aint you, its gotta be me.
Why isnt there a monument to Dr. Leary in Springfield, Mass.? Theyve got monuments to Dr. Seuss. Theyre both from here & both were Prominent Men & in my mind, they're both the same, really. The city councils a pain in the ass & theyre of little use.
Granted, I may have some brain problems from ingesting so much acid so many times in my youth but Im responsible for my own demons. I just wanted my brain to be unplacid. Latter on, when it had gone too far, I wanted it to be serene. Never should have listened to Rimbaud as a way of life.
& they should have a psychedelic tourist booth in Springfield near the hospital that I'm just now gettin' out of, like when Conrad Rooks waves goodbye to himself in the film Chappaqua with William Burroughs standing there as Opium Jones as Rooks waves goodbye to himself as his former self in a different life & maybe on a different plane of reality.
last night...
...at my friday night gay aa meeting, this guy was trying to explain why it took him such a long time to get into the program and he said, "i was stuck in a redneck vortex." (!!!) i spent the rest of the meeting basically ignoring what everyone else said and made a general nuisance of myself bugging people to see if anyone had a paper and pen.
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
'cause ev'rything is fake
And ev'rything is false
And ev'rything is phony fake and false and false and false
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
childhood, grass and rain
childhood, grass and rain
the puddle on the paving stones
childhood, grass and rain
ecstasy
nightmare
sleeping in a nest of flames
childhood, grass and rain
childhood, grass and rain
the puddle on the paving stones
childhood, grass and rain
ecstasy
nightmare
sleeping in a nest of flames
So make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
'cause ev'rything is fake
And ev'rything is false
And ev'rything is phony fake and false and false and false
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
Make a sound sound sound underground
squaresville, deluxe
squares: sometimes i don't know whether
to feel sorry for them
or just laugh at them because they're cowards
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