Play nice
The following is a poor attempt to convey some thoughts and/or effects from the previous few days.
http://erdalonur.imeem.com/music/aD8SvEcN/when_it_s_sleepy_time_down_south/ (sign in: shady.jones@gmail.com : moonchild.)
My great grandmother almost died. She maybe in her 70s or 80s I do not know. She had a potassium level of 8.7 when she reached the hospital, half her body paralyzed. Apparently this was a miracle because a potassium level of 7 means you’re dead, that it is used, I think, for lethal injection. My great grandmother repeats, in a lively and worn voice, that “medically, scientifically it is impossible.” The doctors couldn’t believe it she said, and before long everyone, even the EMTs knew the story. Phone calls were made to professionals around the country.
The truth is whether she lived or not made no difference. Not that I don’t care about my great grandmother, who for no apparent reason, told me how she lived through 5 wars, talked to me about the soldiers that did not come back, and of the soldiers that did come back, different, as if they did die and only the shells of their body remained, not hollow… but not the same at all, the woman who has multiple certificates of merit for doing something with the city of New Orleans, years ago, with housing and crime (was my great grandmother responsible for spreading the poor blacks in the projects throughout the city? I don’t remember if this was effective in many ways), that woman who decided to write an autobiography that supposedly would make her a millionaire, not that I don’t care about this woman… it’s just that some losses are not losses at all. That there is no such thing as “have.”
She tells me that she would give food to children who came by her house, that she always had more dinner than her family could eat alone because of this, that she could bail them out of jail but she could not save them from the military. She tells me of Sammy though I’m not sure who he is, who came back from the war only to find the money he was saving gone… he divorced his wife, and this, she says, happens often, that soldiers will come back to places that wanted to forget them.
I finished a few books or at least a good bit of them. I find myself forgetting everything I’ve read… not everything.
Nerves.
Reel me in.
The car hums across the roads,
My hand,
Out the window
Wrapped in the cool
Wind peeling away from it.
The music
Beats and breaks
In the air.
Night road. Headlight.
Pale skin. Brown skin.
There’s a vagina here somewhere.
Straight hair. Curly hair.
She we ignore those organs?
Driving. Driven.
We left the male gaze behind hours back.
Singing. Feeling.
What new needlessness
What new awe
I took the greyhound bus and was 5 hours late, but I did meet some interesting people including one woman who is the daughter of a trucker who had nine families if I remember correct and died in late age, maybe nineties and she’s coming back from meeting her brother for the first time and this for some reason may save her marriage; and a hairstylist who thinks back to the few days she spent in Guam, to wet and cold England, and back to Guam, and the man from England and the Chinese American college student majoring in Environmental sciences…
http://www.marciaball.com/wma/bh-06.wma
and I spend some nights listening to coast to coast am… fascinated… truth is irrelevant. Though I do separate the stories about UFOs from the stories of the ability of some mushrooms to help break down the dangerous bio-weaponry (Nerve Gas) that’s becoming unstable after being in the desert for so many years.
I’ve created an elaborate philosophy I find useless to even explain… this one seems like it could last a while…
And Donna Haraway directs me, asks us to become modest witnesses in an age where
I made a small scar on my arm during the summer… to remind me to help those that are starving in distant places, and though we too need help because our lives are not what we would call good, but worse off in a different sense… look. It’s Jenny Dean walking in the library.
i spent money on gifts for someone i have a crush on... more like a
I realize that there is a good chance that though a relationship is unlikely and unstressed with the one I feel most for, that I will not look for one anyone where else… it stopped being a priority. And things feel more open consequently. One of the greatest things that can happen is for you to let go
There’s too much to type. Poems, notes, references, images… and if you can find the full version of Marcia Ball’s St. Gabriel maybe it’ll say it all and more… sure it doesn’t mention too much about McLuhan, and it’s all about McLuhan by the way… the point is…
There is no point. It’s decentralized.
The Tao vs. the D.O.W
This page… is not unraveling. It is all at once. You create the sequence. The page is happening all at once. All the radio stations are happening all at once… Grasp this.
http://erdalonur.imeem.com/music/aD8SvEcN/when_it_s_sleepy_time_down_south/ (sign in: shady.jones@gmail.com : moonchild.)
My great grandmother almost died. She maybe in her 70s or 80s I do not know. She had a potassium level of 8.7 when she reached the hospital, half her body paralyzed. Apparently this was a miracle because a potassium level of 7 means you’re dead, that it is used, I think, for lethal injection. My great grandmother repeats, in a lively and worn voice, that “medically, scientifically it is impossible.” The doctors couldn’t believe it she said, and before long everyone, even the EMTs knew the story. Phone calls were made to professionals around the country.
The truth is whether she lived or not made no difference. Not that I don’t care about my great grandmother, who for no apparent reason, told me how she lived through 5 wars, talked to me about the soldiers that did not come back, and of the soldiers that did come back, different, as if they did die and only the shells of their body remained, not hollow… but not the same at all, the woman who has multiple certificates of merit for doing something with the city of New Orleans, years ago, with housing and crime (was my great grandmother responsible for spreading the poor blacks in the projects throughout the city? I don’t remember if this was effective in many ways), that woman who decided to write an autobiography that supposedly would make her a millionaire, not that I don’t care about this woman… it’s just that some losses are not losses at all. That there is no such thing as “have.”
She tells me that she would give food to children who came by her house, that she always had more dinner than her family could eat alone because of this, that she could bail them out of jail but she could not save them from the military. She tells me of Sammy though I’m not sure who he is, who came back from the war only to find the money he was saving gone… he divorced his wife, and this, she says, happens often, that soldiers will come back to places that wanted to forget them.
I finished a few books or at least a good bit of them. I find myself forgetting everything I’ve read… not everything.
Nerves.
Reel me in.
The car hums across the roads,
My hand,
Out the window
Wrapped in the cool
Wind peeling away from it.
The music
Beats and breaks
In the air.
Night road. Headlight.
Pale skin. Brown skin.
There’s a vagina here somewhere.
Straight hair. Curly hair.
She we ignore those organs?
Driving. Driven.
We left the male gaze behind hours back.
Singing. Feeling.
What new needlessness
What new awe
I took the greyhound bus and was 5 hours late, but I did meet some interesting people including one woman who is the daughter of a trucker who had nine families if I remember correct and died in late age, maybe nineties and she’s coming back from meeting her brother for the first time and this for some reason may save her marriage; and a hairstylist who thinks back to the few days she spent in Guam, to wet and cold England, and back to Guam, and the man from England and the Chinese American college student majoring in Environmental sciences…
http://www.marciaball.com/wma/bh-06.wma
and I spend some nights listening to coast to coast am… fascinated… truth is irrelevant. Though I do separate the stories about UFOs from the stories of the ability of some mushrooms to help break down the dangerous bio-weaponry (Nerve Gas) that’s becoming unstable after being in the desert for so many years.
I’ve created an elaborate philosophy I find useless to even explain… this one seems like it could last a while…
And Donna Haraway directs me, asks us to become modest witnesses in an age where
I made a small scar on my arm during the summer… to remind me to help those that are starving in distant places, and though we too need help because our lives are not what we would call good, but worse off in a different sense… look. It’s Jenny Dean walking in the library.
i spent money on gifts for someone i have a crush on... more like a
I realize that there is a good chance that though a relationship is unlikely and unstressed with the one I feel most for, that I will not look for one anyone where else… it stopped being a priority. And things feel more open consequently. One of the greatest things that can happen is for you to let go
There’s too much to type. Poems, notes, references, images… and if you can find the full version of Marcia Ball’s St. Gabriel maybe it’ll say it all and more… sure it doesn’t mention too much about McLuhan, and it’s all about McLuhan by the way… the point is…
There is no point. It’s decentralized.
The Tao vs. the D.O.W
This page… is not unraveling. It is all at once. You create the sequence. The page is happening all at once. All the radio stations are happening all at once… Grasp this.