Tuesday, February 10, 2009

The Outside Real

It's Impossible to Get Away From the Outside
Or "that which is" outside. That. And it is That that I am addressing. I want to be alone. OK? I think I am alone and then I hear THAT. What was that? The unanswerable question. That was what it was. And the That I'm addressing lives outside. You know...like "out in the hall," if you're a New York City apartment dweller...or if you're a suburbite it's that "What was that I heard?...you hear it?...listen...there...THAT! There's someone out there--that's what that is!" Or if you live in a bubble, even if you are deep and entrenched in your own world, you know that just beyond the reflections of your dreams there is still an outside full of THATS. That's it.

There is a within world and an outside world and a world beyond in terms of this world continuing on long after we, its current residents, are gone, when we're all long gone; also, them that were and have been long gone for short or long times will be erased for having having existed; Jesus will be gone and forgotten; the memories of billions will be long gone; books and ideas and computer files crammed with information will be long gone; BUT, there will still be a world left--a world void of humans--or will it be? Maybe there will evolve a new toxic-created creature shaped sort of like human beings but not--not evolved of monkeys but of some polluted bio-chemical soup--a sludge people--a slag people--a people arising from the leftover waste of the once world-packed group of irritants refered to by themselves as homo sapiens--or as something to dreadfully fear if you are a monkey or a beast of the fields. And when I pronounce "homo sapiens" I put a heavy accent on the SAP part of that classification...and I stop a full stop. I'm stopped by the ghost of Alfred North Whitehead perhaps, a ghost telling me to reason out why "sap" is used in describing someone who's a bit off his or her rocker. Though you don't hear the word sap used in human description anymore--at least I don't--at one time it was a well-used word around all towns--"Hey, you sap! Watch where you're going." The word sucker is still used to sort of mean a sap, and yes a sap was gullible, and as such was a sucker, too. The perfect word for both is of course the word "sapsucker." "That sapsucker is nuttier than a fruitcake." Of course, perhaps sapsucker is too close to cocksucker. How did cocks get to be male genital representatives? Like a rooster crowing, does that symbolize an erection to ancient man? Cock-a-doodle-do. Any cock'll do. But that isn't true. Nothing's true. Did you ever reason on that? Nothing's true because when you discover it's true it's already past and an avant garde is working like worker bees to prove it wrong.

Truth is there somewhere, but it's always outside us. We invented right and wrong--and truth comes from our concept of right and what is right and that even boils over into our politics and why it's so hard for us to accept the left or anything even leaning left--and why even centrist politics is considered radical by us rightists. Why is left thought of as wrong? You get it? I remember when parents, especially mothers, were taught that a child who was a natural-born lefthander was WRONG--all babies should be righthanded, the right hand the right hand to use because we are a righthanded culture; in fact, lefthanded cultures are so rare as to be wrong; therefore, being lefthanded was declared wrong by the Sobeit societies that govern such stuff. So logically carrying it on, if lefthandedness is wrong, then shouldn't anything left of center be wrong? No doubt about right being right. Most human monkeys are righthanded, right? Besides the Protestant Ethics the American white culture developed out of were of righteousness, of being right, of following the right path, the straight and narrow being the right path everthing else a deviation from the right. And all the puritanical and Pilgrim books and teachings were full of the smitings and stonings of lefthanders--like under Hammurabi's "eye for an eye" justice, always they first cut off the lefthand when a poor son of a bitch was starving to death and stole a loaf of bread to save his and his family's life, let's say. It is anciently decreed it is WRONG to steal and a man who steals reaches in and steals with his left hand while using his right hand to shield his eyes so he can watch out for the strong right arm of the law. The policeman holds up his right hand when he wants you to stop. In the military you salute with your right hand. Hitler Siegheil-ed with his right hand. The Pope blesses you with his right hand. The righteous side reaching out to save the wrongful left side, the evil side, the side of you full of secrets and evil thoughts, like Communism. Aha!

All that reasoning as I began a day (actually Monday) here in New York City trying to stay within myself and finding it very difficult to reject the appeals of the outside. Jack Spicer had a whole long college course he taught based on his concept of the Outside Real, from whence comes all human inner fillings, from whence comes poetry in Jack's case, or from whence comes music or art or machinery design, whatever. The real is outside. There is NADA inside. Like when we were living in the wombs of our mothers--think of that--and I think of it a lot, how I, a male animal, came out of a female animal's genitalia and yet how I was forced to not look back on that source of life for my needs and sustenance and ideals but to look instead to the male animal for an example of how I as a male animal was supposed to live--"Get out and find your own sustenance"--even forced in that direction by the mother. Even though the child knows that clinging to the mother is where warmth is, and knows that that good milk flows from those breasts, the best damn milk on earth for a human baby animal, an animal who has to be eventually forced from his mother's CARE into his father's DON'T CARE. A caring father is so rare as to be a leftist idea. Fathers are rulers, a family's true Power Elite...oh boy, but here I go veering onto the lefthand side of an American rightwing road again. So why do Americans drive on the right side of the road? And when did side-of-the-road driving directions come into being? "Stay to the Right." Giving the right of way. Right equals might. Left equals danger. A precipice perhaps. When you see a sign that says "Stay Left" you can assume it's a detour--something BAD has happened up ahead in the RIGHT lane that prevents you from staying right. Like how does a computer decide what is right and what is wrong? 0101010101. Infinity! You see how I'm stuck substituting left with wrong? My dad, a righthander, used to joke about lefthanded monkey wrenches--like when somebody threw a monkey wrench in the works and mess things up, my dad's gang would say, "I'll betcha THAT was a lefthanded monkey wrench that messed THAT up."

And you see, President Obama, a lefthander, is having such a difficult time trying to stay RIGHT, even though the right he's trying to woo and stay pals with is so radically wrong--and I don't mean they're left either, though that's what logic would imply--yet because they are RIGHT wingers, it's hard for right-conscious Americans to accept anything that goes or even leans LEFT. This is we who are baptized daily in the right way being the American way and right is righteous and right is might and our right contains our rights and our Constitutional rights and our property rights and our rights of birth and privilege--and I'm beginning to sound like a George Carlin routine--but it's hard for Americans who are taught that America is always RIGHT and is a country based on the right against the wrong (right being White Americans vs. the Brits (the Redcoats), vs. the Redman (the Savage naked redfleshed man), vs. Noble Savage of the Old West ("The best kind of redskin is a dead redskin"--or later, "I'd rather be dead than Red") vs. The White Man's Burden. "They were right in what they did." And "wrong" really belongs at the opposite of "right" in the moral sense of both words and not in the side-of-the-political-aisle sense of it and not in terms of whether you sit on the right or the left side of that Congressional aisle in Washington, District of Corruption. We don't have a left side of the aisle in this country--an opposing side it's come to be known as--and that's what we need in this country: a true left side way of thinking--and I mean a true fucking diehard left side way of thinking, too--not Russkie Communism or Maoism, not that, but how about trying left-side humanism for awhile. Or how about left-side universalism?...or is that WRONG?

We are nomads. We are tribal. I feel the nomadic urges rising in me every day of my life since I was a young kid and used to stand by the side of a cross-country-coast-to-coast Interstate highway that ran through my hometown and ran by the side of the Texas & Pacific Railroad's tracks that ran from Saint Louis, Missouri, through my hometown, and then disappearing into the setting sun as they ran off all the way out West to El Paso, Texas, and from there on way out to Los Angeles, California, last stop of both highway and railroad track going west--going back east as far as I knew to Saint Louis, Missouri, the Gateway to the West.

Jesus I just realized because I was born in the West I was taught to think West! Yeah, especially in the area of Texas where I was born, the Dust Bowl area of Great Depression Texas, when all the dirt farming failures's lives were blown away by the loosed howling savage winds, the uncontrollable winds, the unhindered winds, the mightiest-ever of champion winds just blew half the earth wild up high into that Big Sky and swirled so much of it up so high and so boiling and massive dark that it blotted out the sun for weeks at a time. Raging winds rushing down off the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains, invincible winds that had no Jesus to step forward and calm them and master their raging. A tempest of winds. Not even a more realistic god like Zeus throwing lightning bolts at them couldn't stop their stampeding and reckless determination--their revolt against the earth, their attempt to blow the surface of the world away and throw it up into the air--not knowing anything about Newton's theory of gravity--all that goes up has got to come down--and when it rains dirt out in West Texas even to this day, everything turns red, clay red, like that movie where Clint Eastwood burns the whole fucking painted-red town down. Back when Clint was a character actor at best--oh, yeah, that's right, Clint's still a character actor except that turkey neck on him now kind'a makes him look like a ready-for-the-roaster-oven actor. What a phony bastard. All actors are so self-important. They are always right! Even when they do the worst of wrongs, they are always given different rights--different outs--why, hell, they live in that other world, man...they are part of the Outside Real. If you don't wish to live in that world, then come inside yourself--except, you always know that just Outside you is THAT...and we're all so curious as to "What was THAT?" "What?" "THAT! You hear that?" "I don't hear anything." "Not anything...not THAT?...THAT right there!" "Oh, right! Now I think I do hear...something like THAT right there, right?" "Right."

The millions of We the People who elected Obama were pushing him Left, toward the progressive and not the communist side of life. But, Obama wants to be right, not left, don't you see? If he goes Left, those who think they are right will come after him like Ann-Coulter-birthed Repugnican pitbulls.

And now I'm thinking, what a bunch of god-damn Saps!

[The music I listened to while the above was written was a Jazzland (Riverside) CD entitled Theolonious Monk With John Coltrane (yeah, I know, "Who?"). It's a mixture of old Riverside takes from 1957-58 when Coltrane worked briefly in Monk's Quartet--especially working with Monk at the Five Spot in New York City of that year...
Monk at the Five Spot: with Coltrane, Roy Haynes, and Ahmed Abdul-Malik--the night
Riverside was recording in 1958 on New York City's Lower East Side...Wow! What a time!
...to be replaced by the way by the elegant and facile Little Johnny Griffin who just died in France recently--and it was the Johnny Griffin-membered Monk Quartet that made what I think of as one of the greatest-ever live jazz recordings, Monk Live at the Five Spot on Riverside, Orrin Keepnews and Bill Grauer's label, in about 1958 or 9--with Johnny Griffin and Ahmed Abdul-Malik and Roy Haynes (still alive as I type this), the same rhythm section that backed Coltrane before Johnny Griffin replaced him. "In Walked Bud" is the absolute swingiest recording of all time to me. I'm sure there's a vid of it on YouTube--every fucking video ever made is on YouTube--I don't know if that's right or left.

By the way, I was warned as a young disc jockey to, "Always play 'em at the right speed." Turntables turn right to left. Which brings me to the old 1940s ballad, "You Turned the Tables on Me" and got me to reasoning, why is turning the tables on someone Wrong? Oh words, where doth thou come from?]

for The "Outside Real" Daily Growler

1 comment:

Marybeth said...

What in God's name makes you think your audience wouldn't know John Coltrane or Thelonious Monk!!??!?!? You're a crack up. Like lhat and I wouldn't know that.