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as the fabric of my existence continues to unravel, and promises to mutate beyond recognition, you'd think it wise to find some solid foundation upon which to stand... kinda like fixing your eyes on a stationary point on a pitching ship, or putting your foot on the floor when you get a wicked case of the spins after a�day of mixing booze and beer. well, that wouldn't be the way i do things, at all. with shit threatening to hit the fan in a big way, instead of retreating into a more ordered routine of simple pleasures, like a fantasy world populated with non-threatening elements like HelloKitty/PuffyAmiYumi/M*A*S*H*reruns/and junk food, it's like i'm intentionally finding ways to see if the whole thing will unravel at once. my sanity, that is. ok, i did have a poptart, this afternoon. that was my port in the storm. i managed to scrounge seventy cents... even that constitutes "victory", these days. there's been this stack of books that have been loaned to me with recommendations. some, punk classics brought in a huge pile by the former workmate who plunged into heroin abuse and consequent unemployment, have been gathering a patina of dust in my bedside table. of the more recent, i've finally been winnowing my way through them before they get lost in packing boxes... and i hate to keep anybody else's stuff to the point that they get packed... for then, they are truly lost. books, blogs and Net_flix... without that combination, i'd have jumped the mental shark, long ago. sometimes, the pairings aren't terribly conducive to peace-of-mind. since i didn't change the queue of movies, M (starring Peter Lorre, directed by Fritz Lang [Metropolis]) was sitting atop the tower of bills, ads, and credit card applications when i got home, last week. at the time, i was halfway through reading a grisly historic account of the Chicago World's Fair of 1893, and the concurrent serial killings by H.H.Holmes, our very first chronicled mass-murderer, The Devil In The White City. jolly. that, and black&white subtitled accounts of Berlin pedophiles. i'm surprised my head didn't cave in. then i started reading HollywoodBabylon, insider-ish, sensationalized scandal-sheet prose, festooned with gruesome police photos of bloodied corpses of film stars. it reminded me, all the while, of a JohnPrine song, Lake Marie... and how blood, in black&white, looked like "shadows". thank god i got through all that. ...but, i sure could use some escapist anime, right about now. or a weekend barricaded in a boudoir, if i can fantasize excessively. it can't be said that i'm taking the easy way out. |
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