Noise Is Simply a Factor in Being a Human

The Sickness of a Dog
I woke up this morning sicker than a mangy pariah dog--I went to a Halloween party last eve--I filmed it for this restaurant--I'm so god-damn night blind it was hard for me to see the scenes and I shot some of them without much light--to get the effect of the joint--then they dished me up a pork loin dinner and I came home and this woman I was with gave me a big bag of chocolate chip cookies before she took off, and I like a nutjob McCain ate more of the cookies than my poor old food and drink soaked stomach could take. At 5 am I was up throwing cookies up--throwing up my cookies. "Lookie, lookie, here comes Cookie(s)."

On top of this irksome crap, by 8 am it was obvious that construction of the 18-story hotel they are building right up next to my building was going on on Saturday morning whether I liked it or not.

It's funny how angry and self-punishing one can get when one's sick and one's Saturday morning--and a beautiful top o' the mornin' it was, too--is soon to be violated by the awesomely disturbing sounds of a big Cat shovel making all kinds of silence-exploding noises--clangs, crashes, bangs, squeaks as if chains are being dragged across a bunch of champagne glasses--I mean totally intrusive noise--no peace anywhere in the neighborhood when these sons of bitches are working--ON SATURDAY--and I assume they'll work on Sunday, too.

One's assumptions are made so they can be either fulfilled or surprised by lack of fulfillment.

as·sump·tion (-smpshn)

n.

1. The act of taking to or upon oneself: assumption of an obligation.

2. The act of taking possession or asserting a claim: assumption of command.

3. The act of taking for granted: assumption of a false theory.

4. Something taken for granted or accepted as true without proof; a supposition: a valid assumption.

5. Presumption; arrogance.

6. Logic A minor premise.

7. Assumption

a. Christianity The taking up of the Virgin Mary into heaven in body and soul after her death.

b. A feast celebrating this event.

c. August 15, the day on which this feast is observed.

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[Middle English assumpcion, from Latin assmpti, assmptin-, adoption, from assmptus, past participle of assmere, to adopt; see assume.]

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2003. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

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I like that in Logic "assumption" is a minor premise.
I'm probably more than presumptive about this continuous noise that has affected me in this so despicable a way--I must adjust--I live in the highest area of development in New York City at the moment--they say this trend is now moving down into the Wall Street area--yet, I still have this hotel being built right next to my building--just one apartment away east from my apartment--

OH my Gawd! I'm listening to the string quartets of Arthur Berger.

And then last night I read (in The Daily Growler) that Studs Turkel had finally given up the ghost.

Studs was an old-time Chicagoan though he was born right here in Old New York City.

The birthplace of noise, being it's from a plethora of buildings being constructed or 5 buildings being blown down by a gaggle of Saudi-Arabians and one Jordanian flying airplanes so precisely when legend said they knew not how to fly!

I'm literally living under earphones assuming the noise is coming or is already out there--as long as I can keep the noise out of my room--

And of course it's a beautiful day--
Get out and prowl around the city all day, you scream at me, but I'm broke...
Aha! Being broke is also a thing I have to get used to. What I used to pay for a full meal at my fav Irish Pub has changed--$12 steaks are now $23; salads once free w/your meal are now $5.00 extra--so's soup; you get now just a pile of mashed potatoes or rice with your small cut of steak!
Get used to it...
It don't matter who wins Tuesday, trust me.
Neither one of those birds know even next-to-nothing about Sociology or Economics--Obama's a lawyer--oh holy shit, another lawyer. You know how many lawyers there are being pushed out of law schools every year?--on top of all the god-damn lawyers already having to make laws and defend them and prosecute under them or make deals under the table through the loopholes in them--blah, blah, blah. Most of our leaders over the past years have been second-story lawyers--those that weren't military nutjobs like John "Pig Jowls" McCain or dumbass actors--well, they're all actors, aren't they, Billy Shakespeare?--but then, heck fire, I'm an actor, too, and this is my stage.

Noise. Being broke. Having laws made daily against me as a PRIVATE citizen--as an individual--
I grew up under this Neo-Con attitude of we're a country of individualists (we were once rugged individualists though I'm not so sure what kind of individualists we are now). Of course this individual attitude is a white attitude. Obama is having to conform to this white idea--it's the "pull yourself up by your own bootstraps" Brit Empire idea George Orwell once wrote about. The white man still thinks like we are the continuance of the British Empire.

I think I heard a nutjob Repugnican say t'other evenin' that God designed our Constitution. They never say which God this is--it's always ASSUMED it's the Pure-dee Christian God--the Jewish god Yahweh that the dumbass American-Brit Christians deemed "Jehovah."


Pastor Melissa Scott (the official PASTOR of The Daily Growler: "Put me out to Pastor, Lord") was intrigued in her message last evening (she's on at 1 am in the HO-HUM in NYC now) by the perseverance of early Christian missionaries following the orders of Jesus to "Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel of my maverick ass." Pastor Melissa said last night that Polycarp (a creepy early Christian dude--see end of post for a bio) was a close friend and student of the nutjob Saint John (John the Revelator), the howling schizophrenic who wrote the Book of Revelations (actually "The Book of the Seven Seals") (it's more like a pamphlet than a book)--a wildass nutjob view of the End of the World, which these Christian dumbasses depend on for their fables and legends to hold any water.
Melissa declared last night since Polycarp knew Ragin' John at Ephesus, he therefore proves there was a Jesus Christ! Poor Christians--the high priests of Christianity are so dependent on the ignorant FAITHFUL for their fame and profits (and prophets) they have to keep this faithful assuming that there really was a renegade (maverick?) Essence Jew named Jesus and that this Jesus is the SON of a big man who is a GREAT WHITE FATHER in the sky and this Big Daddy screwed a young Judean girl in a vacant field behind a local wine shop and knocked her up--and since Jehovah is a GREAT WHITE BEING, of course the son that came out of that young Judean girl is half-white--LIKE OBAMA! And Jesus can have dual citizenship--Israeli and American.

And Melissa was especially intrigued by the missionary who tried to Christianize Japan--in the 1500s--some Brit nutjob--and how these early missionaries were martyred--roasted over goat-chip fires, disemboweled, dismembered, burned at the stake, tortured on the rack perfectly legal in those Medieval days as well as today--and Christianity is such a Medieval backwards religion. Don't worry, Pastor Melissa Scott is in no danger of being martyred--unless a jealous boyfriend plugs her--and you should be extremely jealous if you're the guy bangin' Melissa--and you know she's gettin' banged--come on, a hard-hearted Hannah like her--control of men is her thing! Just like that's the thing of all this Neo-Con (Neo-Plantation) crap--the control of men--and women and children.
An assumption on my part, I know, but isn't everything we human animals do based on assumptions?
It drives Christians further back into the corners of the nut house when you show them a formula for evolution--you know, the one that has man emerging from the jungle where whence he was an ape, a monkey, and, yes, we're all monkey men and monkey women (nothing in Chicago a woman like you can do, right Studs?) and monkey children--EXCEPT we've lost some wonderful monkey skills during our coming forth from the Jungle into Civilization! A roommate of mine in college--a writer of 25-cent paperback trash books--a success at it at 19--hated the word "civilization"--but then he hated civilization, that's for sure--and he wrote so rottenly well about how he hated it. Come on, as a kid, how inviting was a tree in terms of climbing it? I've climbed trees as a kid--in Dallas at the corner of our house was a huge cedar tree with monkey-bar limbs reaching up and out over the roof of our two-story house, with a thick green canopy to protect me from the angry sun--and I would climb easily up into that tree and sit up there just like a monkey thinking--making my early assumptions, minor premises, letting my imagination take those child-like premises and blow 'em up, man--blow long solos out up there in that tree, a tree that because I could climb it and it was on my property became MY tree--my private space, my quiet space, my church, dammit--shit, yeah, up in that old gnarly cedar tree is where I met my GAWD, my Lordy-Lawd, my savior: ME. I met myself up that tree--my holy of holies.
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All ya'all (I knew a woman named Yael once) who knoweth me best know that I agree with Isaac Newton and Debbie Harry that neither parallel lines nor parallel lives can ever meet--they can each bend and get pretty close--like adjacent to each other--you catch my drift? Then you're on my wavelength--and we don't really know how important WAVES are to life--think thee upon it. I'm suddenly in my sociological role as an assumer, ordering thee to think thee upon it--and suddenly I'm hearing Gerty Stein's dog Basket lapping at his water and damn if I'm not rockin' on this keyboard; I'm hot, baby, grindin' and under the earphones to escape the inevitable noise that will be and what will be will be and I'm under the earphones and I was so hot and bothered whizzing words out of my brain onto this screen I lost tracks of time--God-damn, what an invention this computer and this Internet shit is--this may be the greatest man-the-supermonkey invention yet in my assorted roles in life--I was there when the first color teevee was demonstrated at the Texas State Fair--1948--and the Little Wolf Boy was there looking at it with jaw-dropping adoration...oh Jesus, Basket, enough with the lapping of water now--I'm pooped from this extended paragraph...
but I reached behind me haphazardly for a CD, there's a stack of 500 right behind the chair I sit in at this computer in my control room here in my noise-besieged apartment, and I pulled a CD off the top of a stack on the floor and I knew it was Mingus but I didn't think anything about it. I put it in the Denon (it's the only crappy Japanese CD player that isn't skipping on CDs--and oh, remember how CDs were going to be the cat's meow in saving sounds and info--and now look--fuck CDs--that concept is down the toilet of time)...
and I put the earphones on and set the music to playing and I started writing like Gerty Stein on steroids, and maybe she was, Papa Hemingway in A Moveable Feast said that he assumed Gertrude's vagina had calcified, but then we know Papa was madly in love with Gertrude--and what writer can't be who really gets into her "pure" writing--human-mechanical writing--what a wonderful way to write and to write and to write with a joy as you write what you write, writing night and day as though writing is the written way of life, a life writing, writing of life, writing of a writing life...
Damn we writers are lucky--and these ways of instant printing--and this Internet--it beats the hell out of the invention of color teevee--I'm assuming...

And then it struck me, what I was listening to under my earphones was one of the greatest ever upon ever jazz-classical American music compilations ever invented, written down, and then performed and, Praise the Biscuit-Passin' Lawd, it was recorded by Atlantic way back in the back when of 1959--50-year-old music still so fucking relevant to our continuence in that it's based on the heart-pumping movements and rhythms--the natural beat and movement of life--and it comes directly at us from the source and if you're white like me and lucky enough to have gotten smitten by the natural force of this music and the creators of it then you, too, like me realize how the truth of who we are has been given to us by our African relatives who we kidnapped, enslaved, and brought to THIS country, this fucking non-Land of the Free (sorry, Sarah, guess you can put me on that Anti-American list) against their will, Cap'n Whitey unknowing that he was bringing just the ancestors we needed as a white country to eventually (I assume) set us straight--yet we fiercely denied these people the right to play their music, to do their dancing, to do their celebrations, to give their religious testimonies--and why was the white bossman so scared of these original human beings and their arts and culture? Yeah, you figure it out, I did. I figured it out from listening to and feeling and experiencing the meaning of great recordings like this damn recording I'm listening to now for the second time around (I listened to it three times in a row)--and you feel the infectious nature of this American classical heartbeat music.

That's it, folks, Blues & Roots, an essential series of compositions, I think (I assume), if you really want to understand the Blues Idiom and where a faithful devotion to it will lead you through life from your roots--and everybody's roots, I'm convinced (many assumptions have led me to conclude) go deep into Africa. I said that in a music magazine interview (I was a member of the band being interviewed) and I got all sorts of horseshit vindictiveness thrown at my soul's bull'seye for claiming an African Origin (like it's "white privilege" to say such a thing)--both blacks and whites said how dare I saw such a thing--me being so white--so far away from Africa--I assume, I can no longer claim Africa as my one-time place of origin--
hey, Wolves live in the cold north same as white folks yet there are wolves and dogs in Africa, too.

There are some white dudes now saying that maybe there were some China simultaneous origins--and because I'm into Chach coins and that area of the world--Central Asia--yes, I know there was a Hindu Kush nomadic tribe that was said by Chinese scholars to be a "white" people--but still, they could have migrated up from Africa on what later became known as the Silk Road--that's the assumption I've reached...
Now back to the parallel-line theories of Newton and Harry that I adhere to...
And I can get "personal" here and speak (like the part-dog I am) directly to thewomantrumpetplayer out on the Yonder Coast--actually her parallel line runs kind of directly from the Yonder Coast right across Staten Island, which on a clear day I could see from my bay window if there weren't so many new hi-rise luxury apartment buildings to now block that view--but anyway, she'll appreciate this more than THOU, unless you're a friend of mine and have been hearing this theory since I first became your friend--and when is a friend really a friend?--and I dare not venture into friendship--
Anyway check out the personnel on Mingus's Blues & Roots album:

M�sicos: Jimmy Knepper, Willie Dennis, trombones; John Handy, Jackie McLean, saxo alto; Booker Ervin, saxo tenor; Pepper Adams, bar�tono; Horace Parlan y Mal Waldron, piano; Charles Mingus, bajo; Dannie Richmond, bater�a.

Well, folks, I'm fadin' out--It's getting close to feeding time at the zoo--why have my computer clocks all fallen back already? Damn, TIME. I rebuke thee! "eater of all things lovely" ee cummings (I know, I know, "Who?").

thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler

Polycarp - A Father of the Christian Church
Polycarp is a celebrated figure in the history of Christianity. A direct pupil of the apostle John, Polycarp lived between 70 and 155 A.D., connecting him to both the biblical apostles and the age of the early church fathers. Several ancient sources document the contributions of Polycarp to Christianity, including his letters written to the church at Philippi, in which he encourages the members to remain strong in their faith and to flee from materialism. He also instructs the members in the proper handling of financial dishonesty that was creeping into the church. Polycarp served as the bishop of the church at Smyrna (modern day Izmir), and was recognized as one of the early combatants of Christian heresies. He rejected the teachings of Marcion, an influential heretic who tried to create a "new brand" of Christianity by redefining God and rejecting Old Testament teachings. In his well-known thesis, Polycarp combats Gnostic heresies that were beginning to spread throughout the Christian church.