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the scene from the balcony this morning was a sodden, cold, grey and torrential one. left hand wrapped around the aluminum coffee mug, index and middle fingers of the right hand gripping the first butt of the day, cosseted in flight jacket and be-hatted, i expected the mindset to be a dour, familiar one. and what forgotten melody rises to the top of the grey matter like a bubble in a mud pit? "It's Such A Pretty World, Today." RoyClark... in my mind's eye, in the LittleLordFauntleroy outfit from the BeverlyHillbillies. this ol' brain o' mine digs deep. ah, yes... the Theater Of The Absurd is in session. ...probably an escape mechanism. just before extinguishing the bedside lamp at half-past three AM, i broke into the last quarter of TheJungle. let's see... thematically, we've gone from wide-eyed optimism on the threshold of the NewWorld; adventure on the approach to metropolis (chicago); the awesome system of industry; disrespect and manipulation in the workplace; bone-crushing, non-stop, life-consuming labour from all members of the family to fend off starvation, exposure and the System to cheat the innocent; injury-prostitution-death-incarceration; alcoholic escape; and then, to crime. the impression so far: you may as well cheat, because you're going to get cheated by the ones who make the rules. maybe there's a prettier face on it than at the turn of the century, but this is all too familiar. and, a hell of a read before you go to sleep at night. nightmare material. no wonder my mind swings to the imbecilic in defense. then i open the previous day's paper, and everyone's having a shit fit about tits. not about how the circus that is government swings like a monkey in a cage from one shiny object to another, assuming that nobody's smart enough to notice, or gives a crap unless it hits them directly. banking that the rabble has no memory. or cares about any thing but its own comfort. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Biggles was railing disconsolately, this weekend, about how nothing will change--regime-wise... which i debated. nothing stays the same, says i. it depends upon who cares enough to step out of their comfort zone, i worry. and there's plenty of uncomfortable souls, out there. meh. that's a good dismissive expression for the powers that be in the power suits. damn. sure could use some more absurdity, right about now. that's as close to orgasmic as it gets. now there's the little ray of sunshine that we're accustomed to! |
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