Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Where the Truth Is, Believe It or Not

We Heard a Growling Outside Our Backdoor; the Door Facing the Wilderness
I am on a bunk. I do want to disappear into some distant coming--like moving my academic grove out on the contaminated ice just off...well there's a problem, right? I thought I could do it. I went back up to Lake Flaccid to visit my pal Barabbas Munn-Dayne--and, yes, I did get to meet Cecil the Dog-faced Boy, in his hood--I challenged him to take it off and he in return challenged me to play him a game of chess and if I beat him he'd remove the hood. Are those hoods custommade for you, I asked, and he said, "Yes, by a lady who was formerly in my grandad's touring company, an Australian dwarf who looks like President Theodore Roosevelt, who I highly admire, by the way."

Of course I lost the chess game. I have too much of a movable-feast mind to be good at chess. Such concentration it takes seems a waste of good mental time on a game to me--a game of kings, queens, armies--and, Jeez, how could I have forgotten to mention Doggy Boy's chess set? Can you imagine what it was? How about characters from Todd Browning's old black and white movie "Freaks"--the pinheads the pawns, little dwarf knights on Chinese dogs (with saddles)--or maybe they were Chinese ponies--the Queen a Bearded Lady wearing a tiara; the King was, damn if it wasn't a Dog-Faced dude wearing a crown--carved out of stone they felt like. As if reading my mind--I suppose I was holding up a pinhead pawn and contemplating--Doggy Boy said, "Those are carved from Italian marble on commission from my grandfather." "Delightful," said I rather boorishly. "Todd Browning was a good friend of my grandfather. He knew him when my family lived in Los Angeles and worked in movies; though, I point out, my grandfather never appeared on screen, he like I, wore a hood when in public, but he knew how to direct freaks, you see. Besides he knew most of them."

OK, and Barabbas was in a sunken sort of mood. And damn it stunk around his cabin. Lake Flaccid. It's really in a Flaccid state--"We're hoping for some melting snow but so far the Finger Lakes aren't draining into Lake Flaccid anymore, it seems like...." "Do you guys drink that crap?" I asked this handyman friend of Barabbas's. "What else we gonna drink, my friend. We either drink it or go to Herman's and drink Genesee God-awful beers--or maybe we start filtering our own piss like the astronuts do." "Astronuts?" "Yep, I think it's death-wish crazy to keep sending these army brats up to spy on us. That's all that space station is--we can see it pass over us--plain as day--spying on us, keeping positioning us, Google imaging us, mapping us and filing us in categorized databanks."

I leaped at the chance of hitching a ride with a Muslim tea salesman back to NYC. He was a Turk so I didn't feel threatened, unless he was really a Saudi-Arabian posing as a Turk, though that might be cause for their beheading him under Saudi-Arabian law--but, I got this ride back to Manhattan, in a Lexus. I said, "Lexus is consider a Jew canoe in New York City." He said yeah he knew that but what the hell, may Allah forgive him for saying it, but in this George W. Bush era of ID-ing haphazardly Muslims as enemy combatants and sending them off to maybe a Turkish jail or even worse an Egyptian jail to be beaten to a pulp, it's safer to pretend to be Jewish--he didn't care to be beaten into confessing yes he was an al-Queda cell member in the US and then being sent to the recently closed down Guantanamo--what, it's still open! They're still torturing "would be" terrorists down there? I'm shocked! I'm not.

Back in Manhattan, I aired out my apartment and began soothsaying. Predicting. Like a spirit had overwhelmed me--and the dailygrowlerhousepianist and I have been having wonderful Socratic dialog on email lately--the DGHP having fallen under the influence of Plato (whether real or unreal) and full of teleologizing on where creation truly begins--and I certainly after all these years know what he means, but the arguing is what's fun, same as it was fun to go to the grove and pester old Socrates with questions. "I hope you bastards are writing this shit down. My wife's giving me holy hell for being in the grove more than I'm in bed with her. Just the other night she accused me of being Gay, preferring you guys to her. 'What do you think? I'm a Sodomite?' and she replied, 'What's a Sodomite, a Greek shepherd?....' A little joke from the wife, you see, boyz, like on a TV sit-com--that's the family she wants. Besides, she's gettin' a little out of shape and my next door neighbor's daughter--she looks like a young boy--is looking anticipatory at me, you know seeing me as a substitute father. So, anyway, first question, yes, Menos?"

When I lived on the Upper East Side of New York City with my rich young beautiful wife I never thought about being an Elitist--yep, my young Tex-Mex-Choctaw-Welsh wife was like Midas, everything she touched, even the ex-dictator of Venezuela, brought her monetary rewards--enough so I trotted around the Sutton Place-1st Avenue-East 57th St area like I owned the place. And I'd get up 'fore dawn and take my notebook down to a little park just in the shadow of the 59th Street Bridge and built out over the FDR Drive to edge and hang over the East River. It looked across the river directly at the Pepsi Sign and the Funk Bakery sign and the stupid-looking shooting jet of water at the end of Roosevelt Island (before the tramway) named in honor of the publisher who built the Central Park Shakespeare Theater. And I'd go there in the dawn light and write out my thoughts. Rebellious thoughts, thoughts of Revolution and Evolution, angry shouts against Fascists and cops and Capitalist tools (fools). Yet there I was living like a Power Elitist and thinking up antagonism against exactly what I was--or at least what my wife was--a Commie sympathizer forced by me into corrupted corporate world of world-conquering dreamers--where she made us rich--later after divorcing me, making herself independently wealthy, and leaving me out of the Power Elite neighborhood and into the up-and-coming haven for starving artists and musicians, the SOHO and TRIBECA areas of recently abandoned by manufacturing lower Manhattan spaces--the fleeing manufacturors leaving behind the huge factory loft spaces which artists gobbled up for long-term leases--a deal which gave them other professions, like when they fixtured up their loft spaces, they learned carpentry, drywalling, plumbing, painting. But it was a chance for me to find my true self and thus my best years began--the Seventies--Jesus, what years of fun in NYC--but I sound like I'm whining. I must drift along with the same ole same ole and act as if it's change. Today in protest against the construction site nextdoor using the entrance of my building to park a huge block-long steel-hauling giant out of Jersey and then swinging a huge crane over the sidewalk to unload the steel onto the site--and I walked straight under that crane and I defied those bastards to drop a load of steel on my invincible head--I growled, "Go ahead drop a load right up here boyz--and I or my family will sue your contractor's ass back to China!" I love street confrontation. We used to have great confrontational street theater in NYC. Fascist Police Commission Little Irish Ray Kelly has now ruled against any street confrontational theater except that performed by his cops as they go about the city openly accusing the Citizens of New York City of being guilty of something--now of being enemy combatants--discovering al-Queda-style homegrown terrorists groups in our midst--against the Jews--Mayor Bloomberg's a Jew, running for an illegal third term for mayor. One supposedly candidate opposing Hiz Billionaire Honor, Anthony Wiener, said he had decided not to run against this self-promoting asshole. He said it was futile trying run against a man who could throw millions of his own personal bucks in your face--not even a popular guy like Anthony (don't worry he threatens to run every four years--he never has yet), a Dumbocrat to boot, could raise enough money to compete with this Bloomingidiotburg bum and his real estate and Wall Street backers. So, we got this son of a bitch whether we want him or not. You know the truth is that if this bum is thrown out of office there goes all this crazy building of hotels and the rezoning of the city for malls, the giving over of Times Square to the Fantasyland neonization geeks, turning Times Square into an amusement park for the wealthy and the tourists, trying to turn the whole of Manhattan Island into a Metropolitan DisneyLand/World--Universal Studio City--a Hollywood reconstruction of Manhattan--fuck New Yorkers, let 'em move to crumbling suburbs--and that's especially true of the black community in both Harlem and Brownsville and the Latinos on the Upper East Side and on up the Upper West Side--he's given the Mid-town west side away to Donald Trump and one of his overbuilt and gaudy Trump Cities--truly tacky architectural edifices with his name emblazoned all over them--Trump City, Trump Towers, Trump Glass House, Trump crap. And this mayor has given old Brooklyn away to his worthless New Jersey Nets-owner developer buddy who has literally raped old downtown Journal Square Brooklyn--old Borough Hall Brooklyn--and Magic Johnson--whose well-used HIV-riddled Johnson seems to have repaired itself and Magic now is an All-American father-type influence on millions of young skinny overtall kids looking to become millionaires by the time they are 19--and then like Magic, they'll get to fuck the babes morning to night, without condoms!...but Magic's been forgiven of his numerous fornications cause he's rich--and Magic now owns the old Williamsburg Savings Bank tower--has turned it into a hi-rise luxury condo apartment building--multimillion-dollar upper-floor apartments with the best views in Brooklyn until this New Jersey Nets (a worthless basketball team that hasn't had a decent coach--another mismanaged basketball team like the New York Knicks)--bullshit is forced on the citizens of Brooklyn against their will--just being given eminent domain privileges by a condemning city, the privilege of destroying the old Brooklyn center city--Atlantic Avenue--oh well, the Pierpont Morgans turned Brooklyn Heights into a Capitalist pig haven way back in the early teens.

Enough ravings. To my predictions--I am not a professional soothsayer, trick-bagger, but a professional phony soothsayer, a writer with leisure time on my hands thanks to inheritance--anyway--how about some predictions?:
--my first prediction: Obama will privatize Social Security
--my second prediction: Obama will not bring the troops home from Iraq anytime soon
--the US may be preparing for a new Korean War--Obama may announce soon he's sending his drone forces into North Korea in an attempt to bomb their so-called nuclear facilities--the irony, their nuclear capabilities were given to them by old Unka Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld, remember him?, who sold North Korea nuclear capabilities through a Swedish firm they were invested in and on the board of-- and Pappy Bush's New World Order has ordered Obama to cover up the crimes of his worthless little weasel son's absolute worst presidency in the history of the presidency (a stolen presidency at that)--and that includes the administrations of Millard Fillmore, Rutherford B. Hayes, and Warren G. Harding put together; more crooked and "evil" than the Nixon administration, probably the most crooked administration until Reagan introduced us to all the criminals in today's tumbling downfall of our economy, including Robert Rubin (now with CitiGroup, the multi-failing job-laying-off bank but still big-spender corporation when it comes to executive bonuses and control now thanks to Obama's generosity of billions of We the People's money, to the tune of the wiping out of the middle-to-poverty-classes's monies (wealth)--wiping out the middle-class, wiping out our factory bases, now wiping out the U.S. auto industry by bailing out the culprits who wrecked it, allowing them to close down plants, allowing them to go bankrupt, allowing them through bankruptcy to get out from under continuing to pay on workers's healthcare, pensions, 401K plans; in fact, totally wrecking what used to be one of the strongest unions in the world, the United Auto Workers of America--started by wildman progressive union man, Walter Reuther (Walter Ruthless management called him)--and oh boy did Chrysler and GM and Ford kiss his ass in his heyday and through Walter Reuther the auto workers of America became the highest paid workers in the country, producing well-designed automobiles at fast paces in plants all over the USA--big plants all around New York City as well as St. Louis, Dallas-Fort Worth, where there was a big Ford plant in Arlington, Texas, that hired men and women--always an easy place to get a job--with good pay--and assembly and parts plants in Wisconsin and Ohio and even in Pennsylvania, and Ford plants in Louisians, ahhh, but Obama has wiped the UAW out. The UAW has given up rights to management threats; they've given up pay while Chrysler closes plants--they are not closing their plants in the rest of the world, oh no, just their plants in the USA and Canada. That makes no sense, but none of this does. The bankruptcy court now owns Chrysler and they're soon to own GM, too.
--I predict Obama will not close Guantanamo...instead expand it.
--In about a year, Obama will announce Social Security is broke and that AIG has made an offer to buy the whole system! AIG is We the People's insurance company, which Obama says since we're not in the insurance business and he knows nothing about running an insurance company, so we've got to give it wholehog back to the Wall Street heroes of Obama's who purposely destroyed it in the first place--fucking Reaganomics (Voodoo Economics) is still with us, Milton-Friedman-freaky economics; David Stockman economics; Bill Clinton-type no-regulation anything--whoaaaa, Obama, what the fuck are you talking about?--those sons of bitches that ran these companies and banks in the ground through speculation Capitalism have no business still running AIG, our insurance company--give it to me--I'll run the son of bitch and make it work. We did own Chrysler until Obama gave it away to the bankruptcy court.
--I predict there's not gonna be any soup left for the soup kitchens.
--I predict more war and death and destruction and downward spiraling...

But shit, I'm way behind the times.

for The Daily Growler

To the womantrumpetplayer--the creator is going to communicate with you--it's hard not to idealize you--the perfect woman in this on-going Sociological experiment! This notebook of several lives blended into one anthropomorphic character, who is real, yes, but not, too. So, we're going to have to have the creator of thegrowlingwolf
reveal himself to you--though, if you know anything about the life of the blues singer, composer, and Ray Charles influencer Percy Mayfield who had his face destroyed in an automobile accident--or the Phantom of the Opera--or Cecil the Dog-Faced Boy--wearers of hoods and masks to hide their scary features, then you'll understand what kind of freak so multiple-facial-a-character all these characters are--that doesn't make sense, but that's OK..."Who was that masked man?" "Hi-yo, Silver, away!"

Stan Ribald? Winston Castratado? Raoul Nonsenso? Brad Pits? Claus von Bulow? Moe Howard? The Second Coming of Casanova?


for The Daily Growler

1 comment:

Marybeth said...

Don't worry babe, I know what you look like already, and what you looked like when you were 18 and wore a pink tie, and what your "real" name is and it's all fine with me. I'm in your fan club. I might be the one with the veil on, but you know it's hard to play a trumpet with a mask on your face. And you really can't hide behind a trumpet, it reveals every nuance of your emotions, being so connected with the breath, like singing.

Wow, it will be like meeting the Wizard of Oz ("ignore that man behind the curtain").