Fear and Loathing – rural Northern Utah.
I try live by the adage If a man can’t piss in his own back yard he’s living too close to town. Here, it’s hard not to live too close to town these days – not when town creeps up on you in waves like flood irrigation without any sign of receding and rolling back. No high water mark to view eerily in the distance as I drown without so much as a handshake.
Fortunately I’m still able to drain the lizard in the front or backyard, this practice may lower the property value but I hold firm belief it may also sway and disorient the dumb beast – fill it with self-doubt as to whether my patch of canary grass and sagebrush is a suitable location to act out their noir republican dreams of manifest destiny. What this time? [oh god] A stucco gated community? Golf course? $7M. multiple tier parking lot mecca? We’re fucked.
I must interrupt the narrative at this moment as my hands are full of watermelon. It’s late June here, season of the hay wagon. Tractors and all terrain vehicles roll by every half an hour. Just enough time to jot down a little screenplay about the last cowboy riding the last horse and hightailing it over the last hill into the last sunset and how in the valley floor below him lay the new great grocery warehouse on 12th and Wall Avenue.
Phalaris Arundinacea is considered an invasive species as it is tough to eradicate. Out here it is everywhere you look, Phalaris and Artemisia Tridentata of the Asteraceae. Phalaris contains the entheogen N,N-dimethyltryptamine. DMT for those who do not belong to the White Council. With some basic alchemy knowledge, some of these larger property owners could dig deep and strike out like they done in Texas and stand a real chance of holding these swine beasts back awhile longer. Make off like Clampett’s and what’s more? Finally rid themselves of this invasive species.
Invasive species. Hard to eradicate. I like that. From one hard to eradicate ladrón de caballos to another, proud neath canary grass and sagebrush banner I bid you a long life and a short rope. Tienen una larga vida y una cuerda corta.
Wheres the merit? I know what will happen, I’d rather die now.
I created you.
I created you.
Such bullshit, the thanks I get, you grow, see the world, experience love.
To die, to mourn, to be lost and separated. Doubt?
Yes to die, all born to die, all. Doubt it none.
It is love?
It is. love and loss.
My hands are tied. For love then!
anyone up for some freedom in a shot?
Maybe some visions? dreams? mental cabaret?
or perhaps a little psychoanalytic exploration
we can trample out the vintage and all have a sip
along with Sigmund Freud, Tom Joad and Jim Morrison
I am a profound influence on contemporary thought
Dreams serve to protect sleep
Against disturbing impulses within
Related to early life experiences
I transcend Latent dreams to manifest dreams
I was Hitch-Hiking THROUGH TIME
this strange fellow named Polybus
Gave me a ride from Corinth to
the truck stop just outside Thebes
and he told me to watch my back
because Thebes had some bad pussy going
Around and boy was he right!
for once I stepped into Thebes
you know this bad old cat came up to me
now she I admit was very seductive
and she had the body of a cat…LITERALLY!
“HALT, WHO GOES THERE”
and then she threw this riddle at me
something about who is buried in Grants tomb
well who else would be buried in Grants tomb
but Grant Right?
the sexy cat or sphinx or whatever killed herself
yeah man, she O.D.’d on some bad brown powder
the people of Thebes were so happy that I Rid
them of that bad pussy cat so they made me king…..
….Mother? is that you?
I never met someone
I didn’t like
I never lost something
not worthy to me
I never knew the answer
I always know the answer
when no one needs it
I have the answer
but I can’t spell it.
Dig your shallow graves
No, I’ll dig it myself
I must go this road alone
turn loose of my apron strings
loss – fear – love – travel – Paris – sleep – U.C.L.A. – death – time
fear, wait I already
brought that up
guess I’m no more of a poet
didn’t think so
grant me innocence
I want it back again
I lost it on my long voyage
of heartache and loss
I gave babe two stars in the night sky late last summer. Told her they were our stars because they are so close together [just off a popular constellation] yet seemingly separated from the rest by an amazing distance, alone together forever in the cosmos. At least until one of them burns out, stars do burn out but some creatures mate for life and if her star burns out I hope mine does the same.
Fall crept up on the summer, the leaves changed and fell followed by a particularly dead winter. I barely made it through it seems, if not for babe and the swift backs of horses. Winters like those are like lighting a trash fire of pure-abyss-sadness somewhere inside, hobos gather from the dark blue forest and I pace from window to window like lonely candle light. peering out into the white static outside while chain smoking.
I wore The Replacements out entirely that season and can hardly listen to them now, though finding a suitable replacement proved somewhat difficult. Long, slow, cold, dead winters, there’s nothing quite like the seasonal sadness, it’s hard to ignore. I always feel like I’m trapped inside a tiny snow globe that some asshole keeps shaking and agitating and if I use any fuck words it may disqualify this blog for any top ten lists or other special accolades. Notice how the word itself, well placed, stands out above from the rest like me and babe’s stars on a clear night.
I can’t believe I left the sanctity of our sheets for this, it’s two a.m. fuck this.
i cant begin to explain
i get the feeling we are going to haunt the workplace
and there is always some impossible debt that is the price
but can you complain? yeah, i bet. but i cant for once
its worth it, so worth it