When I was a child I was taught to look 3 ways before crossing a street. When I was a teenager I was taught not to throw my possessions around. When I was a young man I was taught not to punch holes in the wall.
I have never been hit by a car and there is still only one broken transistor radio in my attic and only one hole in a wall in a theatre Street Apt in downtown Mpls. It is like drink. It is like a rose. In fact it is like a rose I have not had to lie about because it is things like the radio and the wall that I can hardly remember anyway.
Sometimes catching myself in a lie actually helps me to remember because like I said it was like a drink when my team, the St Louis Cardinals, won another game, and my foot, just so happened to be moving fast than my brain for a split second of irrational thought.
My friend, a girl I’ll say, tries to catch me lying about the drink and the roses and you know what? When she does she only catches me lying one time more. Because like I will tell you and the next guy. Most of these things never happened. At least not to me.
Hollywood and the glammduring happen too many times in the media for me to believe that people, normal well adjusted people, are all that safe from the twisting turning pathos of most of the modern recorded primetime American psyche called mass comm. The media baits and goads, marks and tags, most people who are watching and listening. It seems to me they are always able to take up or overturn the conscious efforts of most stalwart thespian types in this good country. And once we take sides from any kind of egocentric point in the wide open view we too are lost.
There are no shortcuts to a calm psyche and there are no moral decisions that can be made from the point of view of the ego. In fact there never have been. These are not just old campaigns and past police efforts these are parasites and creeps lying like they always have been. But who cares right? I do not and with stinking attitudes like that there must be repair and amends. Because it does not matter. You know?
And it shows Everytime someone wants one or two sweet little victims to fall. It makes everybody in the whole theatre guilty. Guilty of indefensibly indiscriminate behavior and accusations of sin without respite or requital of the lies that need not attend to the proverbial “let the Mother burn” attitude of a good portion of exudus bound present day humanity.
And of course, it is in this very way that everybody else must then be a reprobate. Nobody escapes. Myself included. So when you go sober for October or your girlfriend tells you to try and write an honest novel for a change or even just this time go for it wholeheartedly and with much gusto.
A perfect record or a guilty conscience I don’t know but everybody should try it at least once. What could it hurt. Hum?
Personal Writings 