Friday, October 31, 2008

In Morteville Queen Carlotta still Reigns every Halloween

A bury my heart at wounded knee "Indian" summers day in Mifflinville.

I've been on the phone getting disappointed by cheesy Whirlpool reps of a used car lot lizard character of a civil servant disfunctionaire bleedy Mary over the two faulty appliances I bought... me going way beyond the call of duty on Whirlpools behalf to try to get them to take responsibility for their business, products and services - which they then like a beast of Belgian bureaucracy throw back on the sales company I bought the kitchen AIDS of a Whirlpool brand from (the very retailer who incidently tell me the problem is Whirlpools - and neither end of this shameful equation know I have expert experience with this sort of bureacratic misery bullshit from my time in a belgian purgatory of bureacracy! talk about a rock and hard place - my ass!)

so both the retailer and Whirlpool then blame me directly for being a naive consumer. Capitalism here for me post Belgium is shocking in how brazenly unsympathetic it has become - at least during the Clinton years business tried to put on a fake "customer is king" (or Klant is Koning as they say in Flanders) sort of pretense and if you were insistant would actually get you what you wanted to pay for - which in my case is a moot point since I comitted the naivity of paying for what should be a recalled item - assuming someone would do their job. Whirlpool and Appliance Smart are saying if you were stupid enough to buy their product then it's your own fault. Amazing actually - Me going about all this sort of detached and amused by this. I did naively buy Whirlpool products (scratch and dent) From that Satanic retailer (no not Lowes or Home De POT) but some do nothing sort of cheap virtueless sort of retailer called here Applaince Smart "Factory" Outlet - Appliance Stupid if you ask me a consumerist citizens report alert! avoid Whirlpool products from retailers like Appliance Smart! Be yea weary fellow consumer like avoid it like the plague of Europa's dark years...

...Because dear old RIP Veteran dad once was an electrical engineer who designed Whirlpool controls in his part of the post WWII domesticated military industrial complex via a local company that moved to the sticks called Ranco - where he worked his life away - which used to be located just south of Batelle Memorial Institute - where mom RIP once worked... once upon a time - this all seems like lame fiction now - except these were their lives - and had they not met at that fateful intersection of Avenues King and Neil perhpas I would not be. Which is where I seemingly fatefully met a stray Flemish sort of Belgian -- and if nothing else had a good round of love and compassion for too many years; along with the privilege to live abroad. The consequence of all that is now I am better equipped to understand this miserable land to my advantage. Not that I care.

But I miss the King Avenue Coffeehouse.

...can i just continue to abuse you dear reader unaware and write out some withdrawing from Effexor those pills from Satan herself frustrations on you...

plus i just want to suddenly - celebrate autumn and finally cry about things I haven't been able to on mood stabilizers... (for years now) ie Moms death, My Great C.S. Lewis Divorce and Dads death... etc.

I remember the day of the dead or dias de los muertos and, and, and
I got the balls to finally quit my job - did I tell you!? I couldn't take my L-word bossettes no mores who despite all my slacker and self absorbed appearances I never-the-less-always-the-more have extreme respect and gratitude for but my life and personal mythology show must go on in some other uncharted healthcareless direction with a fatal pre-existing condition. So now I shall InshAllah finish the house until Xmas and who knows... I gotta go baby sit my needy cat Tonka.

...before I go what do you know about Chrissy Hynds restaurant in Akron called something Subterreanean or Mediteranean or Terrarium oh yeh Vegeteranium - me thinks - tho I'm no sure about that. That place of Chrissy's should have been more appropriately called Hyndes is you ask me given the size of American behinds - well anyway it is supposed to open a loaction in C-town and NYC? Ms Hyndes Pretenders back to Ohio lyrics are sublime but disconcerting when you hear them in a song at say Home Depot. Her lyrics have wether I liked them or not been all to telling of my home and origin and like her I had the privilege to live elsewhere but still this place like some miserable rats glue trap pulls one back I say. Glad to see it's had the same effect of such a anti-celeb-type-celeb...

So I was telling you that I heard that Back To Ohio song like i did the other day at Home Depot and in that godawful mall place called Easton that I call Tel-Aviv. Easton like Tel-Aviv being a carnage to set upon an unwilling land by greedy manipulative types with no care for anything but their own profits.... meanwhile I've been chanting the song by peter bjorn and john (the new abba?) called - young folks - an "old" pop songs which I heard for the first time at Lowes Home de Pot which nearly had me on the floor crying... The lyrics - not the unexpected transcendental moment of feeling over their lyrics... the feeling of feelings coming back in menopausal surge like ways in humiliating cold hearted public retail aisles was something "real" and thus felt good and true and meaningful in meaningless soulless ohio parkinglot culture ways... But I remember when Easton was a vast rolling woods that should have been preserved as such - Ohio doesn't need another shopping experience.

I am NOT ashamed and am proud to be so out of touch with pop culture - that I somehow missed the rise and fall of Peter, Paul and Mary I mean Peter, Bjorn and John - the newest Abba since Erasure for sure. The lyrics are ideal for whistling thru effoxor withdraw and are thus an unintentional divine Allah Almighty God send. I wish these surges of feelings were real but it does make observing autumn from Morteville/Mifflinville/Ghettoville/Gangsterville feel like a LSD trippy fun ride like the rotor from Cedar Point back in the day....

...I wish you were here - i wish i were here... Where Queen Carlotta still is on her fat assed throne presiding over Morteville/Mifflinville for ever more...

...didn't watch the Obama show but stood in line for nearly three hours at Vets with a crowd of Obama voters - if there were McCainiacs then they were keeping shut about it. If Obama doesn't win then Diebolt Inc should be executed along with the Bush Familia and administrations I and II and Bill Crystal for being a smug bastard out of privilege totally shamelessly out of touch with how the conservations he defends for a living conserve nothing and possibly spread Socialism and Communism in the US more than any post war (II) red scare ever could. I mean the ideas he claims to defend will drive any one trapped in the retail class masses or below to realize standing in line for food and groceries and health care is certainly way more compassion than these miserable Corporate-o-cracy times we have sold our collective human American souls for.

When white Americans wake up to all of this misery that they have been denying - for denial is more than a river in Egypt - they will find to their horror an African American as President to clean up another White mans mess.

...but yeah my pal Ben is pure excstacy pornstar from the nineteen fifties newstand physique magz - if only he had confidence in himself for what he really is. It's more privilege than I deserve when he asks me to punch him harder - harder - like Tyler and Jack from Fight Club. God bless him for giving me back some masculine man2man sense of sexuality and dishonor to be proud of. I wish I could truely give him something meaningful besides a bruise and a need for stitches - but that sort of thing is underrated and way more neccessary than we know or feel comfortable in admitting to ourselves if we can think that far. Ben is the best porn star and more than Ohio deserves. And yes I truely LoVe him and have since I first met him when I first left for Belgium.

and I mean it to the blood in our veins - but wouldn't want to corrupt any pure feeling like that with a relationship. Ben is real and he is sex on wheels and hell on wheels without a car. Ben is something that deserves more than any of us can give him. Ohio should pay him taxes just to keep him here to keep Ohio from becoming all to Midwestern Decadent dull. I am just happy that I met Ben in those years via the North Market which my mom knew well from when she worked at white cross hospital on Goodale Park which became Hell on Earth Riverside Hospital - where I was born - where dad died - and where mom got chemod to death for no good reason when she deserved Morpheine and compassion instead - and someone to just listen to the pain - not use her as a lab rat for suffering for data for pharmaceutical industrialists who no longer even try to fake the art of medicine as a community role. Anyway we the masses like Justice are blind.

I can go on like this into an eternity of myriad intersections and connections of actual non-fiction looking for meaning where there is only this monotony of souls devoid of purpose or reason for existance... lost souls trapped in a dimension where nothing is real, nothing matters (to quote enigmatic leo strauss the icon of the neo-cons - those very neo-cons who missed the Straussian point - distorted it and manipulated it into todays wasteland of rutted out car parks) --- lost souls kept busy by an automotive inane matrix of work and consumption where consumerism is the only thing to occupy oneself in a retail snake pit of a so called life which is nothing more than working poor shoppers without a cause or purpose. Lab rats in a maze - experimented upon and used up and thrown away and forgotten. Suffering mammals of a human variety.anyway... are you reading this billy crystal meth - no I didn't think so - you just wouldn't believe it could be possible from your class privilege useless vantage point.

I'd stop by as your stud/angel but am not inclined to shave my beard anytime soon - especially not in autumn! But those were happy memories - Which probably are specific to places and intersections in time and space - which probably can't be resurrected on any intellectual way of thinking or considering it all but in my experience with Ben any thing and everything can be ressurected and only gets better with age like good wine and bad misunderstandings.

Ben the happy hustler you desire - he just doesn't have the courage to let go - which first requires a cocktail and a coupla pills neither of which he can seem to get squared away without getting it from his "clients" prior to showing up at their door like a needy but drop dead gorgeous stray dog - then you would be intrigued as I am by what he becomes. But without his pills he isn't your fantasy. Pills; a word he says with a minimum of two syllables and always very plural. It's all consentual anyway and in my experience genuine. life is fucked up that way...

Essentially American Spirit Capitalism unlike what's on the menu down at Whirlpool...Ben likes vicodin before sportsex - i like it after. To each his own and it's nobodies business or rather should not be but someone is capitalising on it for no good. but we are all pathetic and vulnerable in our own way and also unimaginable heros while we are alive - if only someone would tell us.

Halloween always makes me cry - beyond belief but I wouldn't change that and it is still despite its annual occurance with my own personal histories with this season - I much to my surprise still look forward to and love autumn. Autumn is the season of death and beauty and rememberence and curses - very real and harsh curses for those willing to see their own annual death. Pathetic for those unwilling or unable to read their own mortality on the walls around them.

all souls and all saints and all just bonfires of the dead...

come, come, come nuclear bomb to quote Morrissey.

happy Halloween - this is a testament of love and infatuation for you Guy Fawkes we need you in Washington, D.C. now more than ever. Come Obama come, paint that white house pink and all the other colors of this Democratic rainbow trapped by the consequences of unrestrained Beasts of Incorporated corporal Capitalisms from cranky pink elbow'd types.

It takes time for a citizenry to fullfill their responsibilities for a Democracy to play out and the Capitalists from Exxon and Mobil and the Rockefellers and those who worse aspire to be all that. It takes time. Long summers free from excessive work, long holidays with time to spare to devote to the free thinking that Democracy requires. None of which the Americans have ever had so our Democracy is a sham - a lie and a facade - and the Democrats are just slightly left of the Republicans - America - having only two far right winged government options to choose - will it be McDonalds or Burger King? Pepsi or Coke? Regular or Unleaded? one zero one - binary figures of death and the number of the Beast.

and to think if you believe in a higher power you are going to have to answer to him/her for the blood of negligence on your hands. Thank you Osama for the Geminoid reminder you got blamed and seemingly already forgotten for.

I've been using in leaf form Valerian, Sint Jans Worteltjes, Damiana, menthe du poivre (for flavoring), Kava Kava (used cold not hot or warm best with canned Coconut milk and fennel) - and I forget what else - I swear this stuff works!!! Kava Kava rocks! Better than can-o-bliss if you ask me. The PayGunz at the co-op took quite an interest in my purchasing such leafy cocochtions given our proximity to Halloween I suppose. Or were they wykyd Wiccanz i can never remember or care. I told them I was in withdrawal from disreputable pharmaceutical companies - that rather shut them up in their curiosities i must say. What were they thinking - Xanax, Valium, mainlining Dilotten with a few IV drips in a Matrix style catheter plug in my forearm? while hypocritically salivating at the thought? anyway.
Herbed up on my medicaments at my friend Davids house, flopped on a big sofa with Rusty the black Churchillian dog of mine and with thegas ceramic log fire switched on - in front of the biggest newest flat screen Ive ever seen i-we watched all six episodes of Neil Gaimans Neverworld - which i kept wanting to rename Neveryworld for no apparant reason. I made us all the Kava Kava Konkocksion (which is not an intentional Aryan sublimation) and they all swore by it - the herbal effexor effects as an antidote - and asked for more. Neverworld is a - what did you kall it skunkpunk (techo mixed with antiquities) film about London and the post Thatcher-Reagan-Bush vagrancy question/consequence of politics based on greed and cold heartedness - the consequences of which can be seen throughout the so called secular imperialist West - giving meaning to the structures of Islam being the Last book in the story of the Prophets for humanity (a real mercy if you bother read) nothing more than the closing book on this planets human story which we not Islam is engineering by our very selves by living out of balance and in disregard to every indigenious peoples ominious warning finally ringing true.

But I digress - Neverworld being a sort of urban folk tale remedy to help people assimilate i guess to the human beings trapped in vagrant lifestyles and the psychic effect vagrant consequences have on those who aren't. Its a great story I must say. Perfect for herbal halloween remedies. It's the kind of TV mini-series that makes you want to give out a dollar to every persons person flopped out on cold damp pavements for home comforts. Which given all my encounters in the upper world stepping over the under world that I've learned to curse Reagan - Thatcher - Bush I & II for and not the human condition of wrecked lives underfoot who are in the way as it were.

Of course the British Brainwashing Corporations aka BBC is not to be trusted with news of the world or day much less it's construct of history of lies and propagation as such - either at the begining or at the end of the day as they say but this is the sort of low budget gem that flies on the fact that the story is flawless and very neccessary - it should be required for all High School (and Community College) students and their edjewcators.

I must say i dont ever recall a Halloween in central Ohio with leaves on the tree - much less half of which are still green! i remember Halloween being the first realization of denuded trees and leaves underfoot in colossal quantity for the first time of the season. Last night after movie time back at home i was in the backyard dealing with Rusty and Tonkas perPETual dog and cat fighting and noticed the best light pollution free sky in ages - and happened to see a meteor shoot across the sky as if coming directly from Orions belt (groin). So I took it as a good Omen.

...of course I am still insane at the moment (as if it will pass - ha!) but surrounded by friends (24-7 David and Ronald) who put up with these demonic withdrawls and who keep proving their friendship with every satanic channelling experience i dish out at odd moments in evil soap opera moments. And from my luck of having a good little witch next door for a now sadly faraway neighbor.

There is this strange song titled young heros by Peter Bjorn and John (whatch the graphic novel music clip on youtubies) - its a song from a few years ago but the bluegrass version with a fiddle replacing the whistling parts (think Mayberry, Andy) and switching gender roles in the lyrics... Peter, Bjorn and John - (?) perhaps the newest manifestion of Abba? Yes I am repeating myself - this is the effects of Effexor who deserve a class action lawsuit.

anyway the whistling jingle part is actually quite annoying but that little bit of manic music has been in my head for this whole effexor trip home and at the worst moments it was something to cling to - whistling - like how people in doomed flights tend to whistle while they wait or so i have heard from reports from those mythical black boxes.... or maybe it was just the wind whipping thru the cabin and fuselage of human tobacco waiting in those eternally long seconds before igniting in their seats. On the doomed flight one such good witch next door was on at LAX on the runway there were people fried with their hands clasping their seatbelts - presumably to jump out of their seats but the fire spread that fast. The odd thing was she died from smoke inhalation and no visible bodily harm - found going as always against the grain - of human passenger exodus in efforts to help people off the plane. The football athlete who survived said he only did so by pushing the heads of people down and crawling over them. Happy Halloween.

...if you get trick or treaters answer them when they ask "trick or treat?" - with another question "Palin or Obama?" - then dish out rocks or candy appropriate to their parents pre-programmed Stepfordville answers.... you could i suppose substitute rock candy for rocks and tell them its crack and to go ask their parents about that. I miss the real Halloween trix-N-treatz which were way before my time and way more sinister and white pillow topped than todays children fare which is basically parental nostalgia enforced on children with too much sugar to begin with coursing through their Jello brand gelatin fresh veins.... like i do when I don't understand the costume and say that is this years best Jean Genet Ramses costume i have seen so far tonight! and watch with restrained glee as their parents shoo their children away in shock and horror from the misunderstood best witch next door anyone could have!

I miss you but remember tonight is the 32 year anniversary of the begining of a personal familial unfolding drama. I was the last person to see those kids having been the child babysitter at the time who took them hand in hand - trick or treating somewhere deep in wooded sub urban Worthington before putting them and myself to bed.

When I phoned ORW in Marysville to complain that I can't get a call to get a visit in before new years because of the waiting list and the prison bureacracy rife with excuses - i said "listen - i'm not new at this - my sister has been out there incarcerated longer than you now for thirty some years" - then i get answers - mind you not solutions - or reservations in for an actual visit but clues to "Call late - in the middle of the night..." is what i hear with a gentlized voice dripping with shame. She should have been paroled 27 years ago (from a secure mental care clinic at that) and those people out there know it because they know she is a cash cow for state money to keep them employed.

Nevermore, Nevermore... Mathieu