"Weary"

For a year now you French by the tens of thousands came here to watch me fall to pieces. Yes others from the world are also entertained. However the French are here in great thousands everyday.

Thousands of page-views everyday. Tens of thousands monthly.

A mystery.

'Waiting for me to die before you? Waiting for my final act? You who say nothing, but just watch.

Have you elected your Nazi hero Marine Le Pen yet?

'...the dolls above symbols of your greatest self-inflicted fear.

I am so weary of so much.

"I am trapped in this life,...they won't let me go"

I made this a few years ago while in therapy. I gave it away to my doctor. I meant for the bird to be flying over dark, and burning landscapes. My true reality. However my inner self took over, and moved my hands to make the colors of false hope you see.

Even our souls lie to us.

"All that I was, and Am"

"For Real Post Op Musings. # 12" ...I think.

(Granted this may be getting tiresome. However I need to write it down. If you just look at the pictures, and move on this would not at all offend...loves ya)

The warnings I was given by so many here, on FB, 'not' to drag my 50 pounds of laundry in by myself were more than correct. It was not without consideration of the dangers, but I thought it needful. The whole month of April has been damp humid rainy. Mildew abounded...esp. in my hamper.

I had to get that stuff dealt with so did.

Getting there was difficult, but I made it...so far so good. However the coming home...

To begin it was a very warm humid day...shades of the summer to come.

It was the warmest brightest part of the afternoon. The sun seemed to get brighter as I walked. All the colors were being washed away the edges of things blurring. Sounds becoming soft.

I was in an extreme sweat,...a kind of heat stroke?

I leaned against a building wall to catch my breath. After a time a few minutes...half hour don't know I continued on. I got to my digs, and fell at once to sleep.

I'm guessing I was out for perhaps 10 to 12 hours since it was near dawn of the next day when I awoke.

This event put me in mind of my surroundings, and the coming, and going of life our lives all life.

My digs are in a building near 120 years old. For any structure on the continent this is a near Roman relic.

The European era in these lands are so recent our oldest makings are actually rather recent. In other parts of the world Asia, and Europe things are very different.

People still live in places that have been in continuous use for centuries. 300 to 500+ years old, and still with folks hanging out carrying on living in them. Imagine if not for the mass bombings of WW2 much more of Europe's medieval real-estate would still be with us.

This puts me in mind of that now classic S/F film "Brother from Another Planet". An off world ship without notice quietly crashes into NY harbor. It's only crew who happens to be Black swims to Ellis Island. There as he touches the walls through his fingers he hears the voices of the many generations that passed through this place. Came through in hopes of a new better life. Somebody please tell that to Trump.

So here in my near 120 year old digs. Would that I now right now this very moment reached out, and touched my walls. I would through the faintest touch of my fingers hear German Polish Yiddish Spanish French Creole, and yes even English.

The words murmurs, and prayers of the generations that lived in these very rooms from which I now post to the world.

Bless you all.

Amen.

"My Great Feet"

"Post OP Dream #20"

Again strange dreams. This once more from my earlier life. I was in the Arts Office of the radio station I foolishly devoted my whole adult life to. I was editing a digital program,

However it was not on a computer I'd ever seen before.

No CPU no keyboard nothing recognizable. Yet work away I did. The sound file was suspended in the air before me. I edited not with a stylist or any sort of wand,...but with my fingers.
I shorten added changed tone the usual, ...but I moved these sound graphs about with the gentlest touch. I moved many colored phrases here, and there happy as could be.

I wish I could remember the designs for this "...computer?" I'd likely patent them. More like just give it to the world to play with as the giving to the world of the Internet itself.

One of the greatest gifts to our human world.

Simon Loekle my very dear departed friend was there. This as he and other friends are in my dreams lately. He was there in "Arts" as we called it. As always reading researching on upcoming programs. I have the feeling we spoke of the "Alice" production that we'd planned for so long.

Simon as some remember founded the "Shakespeare Liberation Front" in the early 1980's, and produced many well received productions of Mr. Bacon's works. ...ahem. Oh what a fine band of gals, and guys they were. I was actually 'happy' in those days. Which perhaps is why in times of trauma I dream them so.

In that context a production of "Alice through the Looking Glass" came up. ...and stayed up for years as we discussed the practicalities of it. This remains the unfinished piece of both our careers.
Still it was so good to see Simon again.

He was a friend, and dear comrade of over 30 years.

Stay tuned.

"Our Lady of the Horizons"

"Post Op Idealistic Delusion #38"

Now, and then one hears of an impoverished ignored American town or village asking the United Nations for help. The State Department always shuts that down, and the U.N. having no nuts to speak of always looks the other way.
Maybe if a whole State or large group of towns, and city neighborhoods asked together this country might be embarrassed into doing something. A growing portion of our Republic is at Third World status. No one cares or ever will. Not the shrinking middle class, and certainly not the oblivious 1%.
So an appeal to the World may be the last recourse.
I myself...no kidding, am now composing a nice note to the Secretary General regards the state affairs of Brooklyn.

I'll keep you informed.

"Honored Sir Madam or Other. Though under the influence of rather powerful medications I never the less have several items of importance I wish draw to your attention..."

Stay Tuned.

"@"

As mist blown on the breath of G-d.

faded wisps of me.

I welcome this.

In space time adrift.

Not yet @ peace, but going there.

On strong Meds yes.

I do not know what is real.

...this pleases me.

"TAXI!"

"For real Post Op Story #59"

Pain again...quiet, but there. Meds of all sorts. None any fun. Like most Americans I imagine I'm an Opioid Junkie now. That or at least at the ort cloud of such.

Here see I've forgotten why I'm posting.

This happens more, and more. I'm concerned a bit...we'll see where that goes. Cold still. Gut cold. Also sleeping in smaller installments once more. At it's worse it was one to two hours at a time. A few days at 10 to 12, and going back to small bite sized pieces.

I'm so fascinated watching my body heal. It's doing things I've never experienced before. Tired so tired. I took a hot very hot shower, and put on  fresh things...always a joy that.

I'm saving energy to haul my stuff to the laundry in a few days. Till then I'm watching things on Netflix. A dear friend is sharing her subscription with me. Oh how good people are.

That, and trying to read.

No politics no scary essays...no more of that. Had another go at Donne's Holy Sonnets. How the language has shifted in just a handful of centuries. What will folks make of Ginsberg in just three or four hundred years. How will "Howl" scan to them. 

Also reading James Baldwin's sermons. What would he, and Donne have made of each other. Would they find kindred streaks of fire in each others words?

I like to think on such things.

Back to sleep,...loves ya all. XOX

"For Real Post Operative Stories # 58"

Yeah the above is me now...for just now. Summer I hope will be better.

I feel so cold. You know how old folks always complain, and drive everybody crazy. It's a damned heatwave out, and they go on about being "cold".

Well now 'I'm' there too.

Having half my guts cut out might have something to do with it, but still. Progress at first with post-operative medical matters. However now it seems to be settling into a rather long term trench war. A very damp chilly one at that.

Slow mending.

Sharp pains much less,...they still show up to say hello. However not a major ongoing matter. ....just cold confused weak, and as always nuts.

Stay Tuned.

"Biblical"

An old friend is a social worker helping specifically the Homeless of the South. We have the occasional back, and forth on this.

As I just said to him:

"The crime is that we have allowed it for so long, and seem more that willing to put up with it for some time to come. It is a very quiet kind of murder of both the bodies, and souls of our brethren.

One day I hope to read the story of "The American Era of Homelessness" 1978~2040?

How it began. All the social underpinnings. The gaps of both morality, and politics public, and private. It's evil height then it's slow so very slow ending. The epilogue alone would be biblical in content, and length."

( Above is the only portrait of myself which I know of from my year in what I called "The Outside".   Enlarge. Look to my eyes. The drifting bleakness of them.

That's still me. I'm still there. Like Vets of War I'm still there. 

As long time readers know I kept a photo journal of that time, and posted many images here. I may gather them up in one place eventually).


Stay tuned.

"Stop me if you've heard this One"

I saw the Angel of Death.

Her Obsidian Sword with Great Powers roiling within.

She has slain 'whole worlds' with this.

How simple to smite just more old man.

Yet she spared me.

Speared me, and pointed to a horizon a future where like billons of others I would have a purpose for the good.

(...the above came to me on waking very early this morning.)

...as does so much these days.

Stay Tuned.

"Post Operative Fever Dream # 38"

You mean I went through all this fucked up insane crap...nearly got killed went flying through the air crashed into this weird hell hole had to hang out with a bunch of mutant two foot tall sociopaths had to crap in the woods got ripped off by the tin guy, and that neurotic lion, got chased by flying demon monkeys.
Bleeping witches after me got fucked up on poppies got bamboozled by that phony wizard guy, was screwed over by everybody, and everything in his weird ass Emerald City.

….and you got the ‘frigging nerve’ to tell me I could 'a got out ’a this nightmare just by clicking these damned stupid shoes together?!

Stay Tuned.

"For Real Hospital stories,... #28"

Having dreams, and flash backs of my recent surgical fun. So I'm lying there, and there's this guy in a faded "Guns 'n Roses t-shirt, and an old chefs hat with his arm up to the elbow fishing around in my guts.

With his free hand he's chugging down from a jug of "Wild Turkey". He notices I'm awake, and sez, "...How ya doing there sport?" Before I can answer he gives me a swig of whiskey saying, Here ya go...cures all that ails ya!"

A few shots spill into my open guts to which the "Chef" sez "...don't worry 'bout that it'll help clean shit out in there. The anesthesiologists whom I hadn't noticed till then falls over.

"...There  he goes again" sez my chef.

"Our pal here likes to take his work home if ya gets my drift."

The surgical theatre looks like a "Clean Room" at NASA. This concerns me. I'm wondering if they has plans for some sort of covert "Old sick Black guys in space program".

Again before I can ask some guy in an ancient Ming outfit comes in banging a gong. This with some other fella playing Jimmy Hendriks riffs on guitar. 

Hey ya can't make this shit up folks.

Anyhow over the crackling speaker there something about how it's "Opium Break". That, and the whole crowd of doctors students, and tourists that was hanging around all spilt through a four foot high door off to the side there.

My Chef calls back saying the procedure would "keep" till they all stumbled back.

I felt reassured, and passed out from the pain.

(...did I mention that hot-dog stand that was there?)


Stay Tuned.

"Mexico Glance"

(...above the real map of Mexico.)

A twenty second history of the U.S./Mexican relationship . First off we stole half their country. Then the damned French tried to install a Hapsburg Emperor on them. From there Mexico was off to the races. A later revolution was the icing on the bitter cake.

Been in chaos ever since.

(...above that Hapsburg guy the French tried to dump on Mexico.)

The current U.S. demand for drugs which is causing a break down of order, and general slaughter in Northern Mexico ain't helping.

Btw we've been treating the indigenous Mexicans like shit in their own... historic lands forever.

However there is Change if not Hope on the way. Mexico is gaining it's lost territory back "Block by Block" a Los Angeles Hispanic D.J. sez. 60% of greater LA is Mexican the rest of the former Mexican States are now or soon will be Hispanic majority.


So the Gringos can build all the Berlin Walls they want. Try to expel 11,000,000 people like the Nazis did...and btw that makes us look seriously bad to the world.


...but I digress.


California, and the general Southwest is becoming Mexican again. You plan to move west? Learn Spanish.
Yeah sure there tons more details, but this is all ya need to know.


Stay Tuned.

"???!!!" ,...this s a re-run. I like this story

Okay here's a conversation stopper. I was abducted by them Saucer guys back in 1955. From my Aunt Sybil's back yard. Eh,...my Auntie is the one in the middle in the third photo that's me in the second. And that's Swedish jet fighters taking down one of them weird annoying bastards in 1953 or so.

Good shoot'n guys!

These family photos taken at about the time of the,...eh incident.

Both Aunt Sybil, (...to center),and I were taken by these weird robot guys. We ended up in what I thought was a big airplane hanger...I had seen a few by then. Ya see they didn't shoot you in them days for wandering around airports.

There's me above at he time of the gleeful incident.

Anyway this big robot guy was carrying me to who knows where...I didn't know what they did to Auntie...still don't. Anyway I ended up in what looked like a room full of giant washing machines. Hey that's what they looked like to my five year old self from dream recall.

They gave me a bath.

????!!!

Yeah I don't know why either.

Next thing I know I'm with Aunt Sybil again, and we're looking down on the City. We're flying over the Brooklyn Bridge...thing is I remember details like the fact from above the bridge looked rusty needed a paint job, and serious repairs...which it did at the time.

Interesting.

Next we're in the kitchen, and Auntie is cooking dinner.

Years later I asked her about that. About how could we have the same dreams. That's when she told me about the mysteries she experienced in her life...ghosts, visions, music in the sky. Basically all the stuff that folks do perceive, but mostly never talk about...for obvious reasons.

Me I have no shame as I just posted somewhere. In fact I told the story on the air about how I called the radio station's manager saying I couldn't come to work because I was having flash backs of my UFO abduction.

WBAI radio, wbai.org,  for all it's current sins 'is' the only job on Earth where your boss will give you time off because of UFO flash backs. She even asked if I wanted to talk to a UFO post abduction counselor...whom she knew.

??!!

Good grief.

Anyway I think them space guys have been messing with my family for years. My brother had some of that missing time jazz both when he was in Vietnam, and here at home. That on the highway at night upstate. Other relations mention stuff from time to time.

Granted most of this is bullshit shit, but there's that 2% or so that ain't. Who or what them folks are...who the bleep knows...excerpt maybe the NSA, and the Phone Company. ...and 'they' ain't talking.

Stay Tuned.

"Pink Famingos"

This is the second hand shop on Atlantic Ave in Brooklyn where I go sometimes for odds, and ends. I just love their sign. I sometimes wonder if folks wander in there thinking it's a Gay Bar or Cafe. However they end up getting a bargain on a jacket or kitchen stuff. I should have snapped up those weird neon pink flamingo lamps when I had the chance.


Stay Tuned.

"Seasons"

The seasons. I wish summer was slightly cooler our fall longer, and more colorful. The extremes of winter shorter, but still snow. The "Yule" the Longest Night a Week. This with the Northern Lights come as far south as the Gulf Coast. So 'all' can wonder at it.

Then Spring our longest season with trees flowers in their brightest bloom for months. Summer bright full joyous slightly cooler yet so life giving. Then perhaps a fifth short season with the aspects of summer, and fall.

Perhaps call it "Amber Summer". She with her emerging colors of fall yet with an aura of pleasant warmth. Then we would dive deep into prolonged fall with her trees ablaze yet chilly nights, and crisp days.

The sun, and moon would chase each other through these glorious stable wonders year by year by year.

Stay Tuned.

"...an end"

I just had a series of short dreams. In one of them the Queen had passed away, but Prince Charles had refused the Throne. Further he asked his sons to do the same. Them, and all rightful heirs behind them.

A fragment of a quote was some variation of, "...it is time for such things to come to an end."


Stay Tuned.

"Floating"

'And my feet never once in 'all' those years ever touched the ground.

...not once.

Stay Tuned.

"Life insists..."

Sleeping. Cold so cold, but burning. A time of ice, and fire. How grateful I am for the Mysteries.

Resting.

10/12 hour sleeping intervals now. Good. Pain persists. Also good. I have read the "sharper the better". This tells us "how hard the body is fighting".

Life insists on living.

Stay Tuned.

"GBU-43/B MOAB"

I've just awoken again, and am looking up what went on while I was quite literally spilling my guts. Seems we dropped a non-nuclear large bomb on a military target east of Kabul in Afghanistan.

A "GBU-43/B MOAB".

This to clear bunkers, and ignite fields of mines in a conflicted area. The "MOAB" is a 0.010 kiloton heavy hitter. It's relatives are battle field nukes in the 10 to 100 kiloton area. For comparison Hiroshima was as I recall about 10-12 kilotons.  MOAB is not as destructive, but has the virtue of getting everyone's attention.

Still as I sit here I wonder. Though I point blank have a blood in the eye cold hatred for Isis like I do Nazis. How does one physically endure being on the business end of one of these. That, and as Trump ranted, "A storm of MOABs..."

The Russians love these things, and put serious resources into refining them. Their current battlefield doctrine,....against us. That is in the opening hours, and perhaps days of direct warfare they would use "MOABs" liberally. This of the 2.0 kiloton variety.

With these they'd sweep our infantry, and armored formations off the field. With no radiation. Thereby opening vast opportunities for forward exploitation. Of course we'd respond with stronger 6.5 kiloton hits into their rear, and forward to freeze that battlefield while we recover, and replace lost units.

(...last week's hit.)

If no deal is brokered the 10.5+ battlefield nukes come out, and that will be that.

I think perhaps I should just go back to sleep.

Stay Tuned.

"Morphine"

For-real honest "Hospital Stories". #38.

What amazed me was that there are some procedural events that even Morphine won't ease. I did ask for upping dosages,....radically. However was told of the dangers. In my case heart attack. On reflection I then said, "...Pretty Please?"

Thanks to my old radio friend Ahmed for reminding me of the below "Stones" piece.

Stay Tuned.

"Five-Oh"

I've been awake for a few hours, and have been reviewing certain matters that have transpired while I was otherwise engaged. Apparently among them is that Mr. Sessions Attorney General of the Republic was not aware that Hawaii was a U.S. state.

He didn't seem to believe that they had federal judges with any authority. Much as I would imagine a territorial official may not have national influence.

Perhaps an email effort by concerned citizens letting Mr. Sessions in on the fact that Hawaii is been in the Union for 58 years may be helpful. She's our 50th state. I even remember when it happened. Folks we proud, and happy. There was a national sense of identity as one nation then.

As opposed to the balkanized war zones we have now.

There was a ceremony at my catholic school where the honor students...ass kissing fucks. Anyway them brown nosing bleeps had the honor of raising the new 50 State flag above the school...been there ever since. 'Least till the NYC 51st State flag goes up.

Anyway glad to see nothing's changed much in our tragic comedy while I was bleeding my guts out all over the place.

Above is the State flag of Hawaii.

There's a nationalist flag. However I'll never post that since that movement like all nativists movements is profoundly racist. They want all non-indigenous or mixed blood persons expelled or have civil rights reduced/removed or among the most profound factions,...actually killed. So fuck them to hell.

Stay Tuned.

"Oh Yeah?! ...Well Mine's Bigger!!"

Some serious un-thoughtful outfit run out of someone's basement, "Formlabs", is producing 3D printers that can make complex circuits. So now you can make triggering devices for bombs or toasters using the raw material found in any kitchen. I think there was a science fiction short story about this mayhem back in the 1990's. The "printers" in that long ago future-cast were called "Makers".

Cute.

Great now I can make an ashtray whenever I need one. Comrades you get that this is bullshit, and like VCRs in 1970 just for rich nerds? ....you got that right? 3D trinket making will play itself out, and vanish. Industry will use it for certain things. However the main users most non-opioid addicts foresee will be terrorist of all sorts. (...nothing against them opioids.) Assorted maniacs,...Nazis religious nutters. That stupid kid at school. The weird guy in the editing lab the pissed off boy friend the moron that just feels like it will use it for making undetectable firearms, and bomb parts. In fact that's the first thing folks chatted about online when these 3D things showed up.

Yeah sure they'll be fig-leaf safeguards. However any bunch of 14 year olds will get around these in an afternoon. Thank you "Formlabs" for making the world more interesting. Let me know when you patent your "Mr. Surprise" pocket Anthrax nail bomb.

Stay Tuned.

"Steps"

Sensations drift migrate. Pain makes colonies. Like capital it digs exploits, and moves on. Then the long healing.

"Cold Tiles Soft Steps"
16 days ago I called for help. Then crumpled into my hallway. Voices dim light. Lifted carried rolled. Two operations then four,...I think.

"...Soft Steps"
Pale memories. Brief moments.
All this happened. Is happening is always happening.
Yet so little remembered.
"...Cold Tiles"

There is no sequential narrative yet.


Stay Tuned.

"China Gate"

People are good. Everywhere they are in the small kindly ways that matter. I just stumbled over to my fav take-out place for a bit of rice, and soup.

My friends there said do not "do this'.

"Just call".

They'll send with "free delivery" till I'm better.

Miracles small simple kindnesses everywhere.

This is the virtue of our species.

All in a small cup of rice.  In the trying. In the being more than we are. More today than we were yesterday. Small primal beautiful changes. This just this keeps the eternal mid-night at baye.

"Home"

Just come home. Maybe three hours ago. Bathed rested sat up. That's
about as I can do so far. Four surgeries, and invasive adventures. Hard to control my fingers.

...every word here spellchecked.

Notes, and observations to come. I do not at this know my awake time from dream time. "But then they were never that separate.

The photos are where for decades centuries the neat radio gang I worked with after long on the air shifts went to eat.

This in the company of crooked cops Chinese gangsters lost tourista's rolled Johns exhausted medical students Haitian taxi drivers off duty hookers, and the just plain hungry chowing down in righteous democracy.

3:am 'Merica at her greasy best!

For this our fathers grandfathers, and now for some great-grandfathers stormed the hateful gates of Hitler's Festung Europa! The bright burning beaches of Normandy!

All that for the happy madness of New York Chinese dumplings in a basement at three in the morning in the company of gangsters killers bad cops, and the common grunts of the world's most insane city.

A wonder of wonders.


I'll be back in a bit. Loves you all.

Stay Tuned.

"Glide"

More invasive procedures followed by Zephyrs of sharp pain.

One rides 'with it' not against.

Like pods of whales. like braces of porpoise.

Ride the bow-break of pain.

Glide with it.