THEM, TAVIS SMILEY, AND CERTAIN MOMENTS IN ADULT SWIM
I am way behind on my reading. Aside from work related materials, emails, memos, handbooks, etc., I’ve not done much other reading during the two months I’ve been on this gig. Oh the La Opinion here, Le Pariesien compliments of Sue there, but the room has a nice big screen, and when in Rome. The Kardashian show is one of the best things on TV, comedy, reality, drama. I can’t say enough good about it. They should be running for president. There’s a fairly recent episode built around Khloe’s birthday party that is just so amazing and profound. And the newest episodes are stupid. They are ill. So it’s them, Tavis Smiley and certain moments in Adult Swim. Otherwise the fare is vacuum cleaners at 5 a.m., or deep dives into heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach and poison frogs and spiders, adults talking like adult 7th graders, talking about moving the chains with a flick of their electric wrists, or patio cover packages, or hey the sell-a-thon is on. There’s amazing architecture in Versailles, and Stephen Hawking adores Jaguars.
A TRUTH AS I KNOW IT
You have to stay clean for the zoo; if you’re not clean, you’re not going.
CREATING DEPENDENT POPULATIONS
Smoking like someone had sold his life out from under him, using the top of trash container as a table for scratching lottery tickets in front of 7-Eleven and his coffee.
I paid my Obamacare premium today, and I submitted some reports per my contract, and while stuck in traffic turned on the radio and listened to Sergei Prokofiev’s “Classical” Symphony (symphony numero uno) played by the Los Angeles Philharmonic conducted by Andre Previn but I was at the beach in time to watch the sunset. I brought my blue cloth bag to the supermarket and toted back a bottle of wine and a package of turkey sliders. The wine is for the writing tonight and the turkey sliders are to help arrest the carnage and procure me some sleep later. Hey, it worked a couple of weeks ago. And it worked the night before last. My motto: Stick with a proven winner.
“We’re great because we’re good.” Hillary Clinton
I sing of wine and turkey sliders, not to mention “The Complicated Pain of America’s Queer Muslims” after all pornography (porno-porn-xxx) isn’t the top three internet search terms because there’s no market. Certain neighborhoods, sometimes entire towns, are disintegrating as the digital revolution runs its course. The ethanol plant closed, the Coca-Cola bottler closed, but porno-porn-xxx is till the top one two and three. Even the hospital shut its doors two years ago, but every bed on every floor has been occupied ever since, bikers riding through the corridors using the service elevators to go floor to floor. Shunted into our minimum wage warrens, we cannot imagine the tensile strength and the ferocity of the avarice and pressure among the elite wealthy special interest tax grabbing lava lamp gooey duck tumble dry liberals to hang on to the wealth and privilege they possess, which is why swords will never be beaten into plowshares no matter how eloquently and passionately they say otherwise. But our brains become a habitat for habitués and we fall for the fulsome sentiments espoused by our favorite celebrities interfacing with the moments that matter because if we didn’t we wouldn’t have a date for prom, and nobody wants to sit home alone. Gertrude Stein warned: “The Saturday evening which is Sunday is every week day.” Perhaps deep down we feel that the rich are better than we are, but our itty bitty minds conjure a magical thinking extravaganza aided and abetted and thrilled by the news that there’s a chance to win prizes. Drug addicts, sex slaves, self-mutilators, construction workers, truck drivers, politicians, movie stars—we are all invasive species. A decent bottle of wine is the only difference one way or the other. But I’ve always wondered what the neighbors across the alley think of the symbolism of the unrelenting parade of nurses carrying dead possums out to the trash bins.
SHAPING IN THE 805
To write like a shaper designs a surfboard is my goal. I’m on a temporary work visa in this carpenter shop town on the central coast where shapers shape the boards they want to ride same as I write the words I want to read and hear.
THE REASONS IS
Office sofa dream state while doing statistical report, which is why you are told everything’s fine and you agree because you’re practically on the street but hey. Motel. Go to the beach walk into town couple of drinks and funny conversations at a bar, salad to go, more wine in the room, some writing and watching TV. Rel peepul, not acotrs.
BISON JAW COUNTY
Scrapped tires of various dimensions tat the edges of the blue tarps that cover the rusting reapers and mothballed hellfire missiles and use-by date expired laser-guided bombs. The yard also holds, in various states of disrepair and oxidation, junked cars and trailers and camper shells and kayaks and backboards and trampolines. Grandma is in the kitchen, clinking and stirring her coffee. The kids are already podcasting from their tree house. Out by the highway, the light is thick as amber by the panopticon of mail slots where there’s a human being slumped over in wheelchair, probably a mother, and her son is talking to her. They’re waiting for Dial-A-Ride.
The highest ranking official in attendance was the director of public health. The county supervisor for that district sent two representatives. Nobody from the city was there. There were nonprofits and organic farmers, and we watched preschool kids eat healthy snacks and dance. Arthur Schopenhauer in his Studies in Pessimism nails it: “Each of us pays the penalty of existence in his own peculiar way.”
ELEVATION 7 FEET
Although the gig is in the metroplex, I got lucky and found a place to stay that satisfies my desire for tranquility. Although it is near the beach there is no pier or wharf, no promenade, boardwalk or esplanade, and the waves break too gently and too close to shore for surfing. I’ll miss the sunsets and the trains: the Coast Starlight nearing its final destination of Los Angeles, having departed Seattle the day before; the Pacific Surfliner going to and fro between San Diego and San Luis Obispo; and, to add gravitas, freight trains, tagged and working hard.
I’m eating crazy; not as unhealthy as it could be, but certainly more for comfort; too much of a semi-good thing is no better than too much of a good thing, and doesn’t equal health. One fried egg and a pork chop for brunch, an apple and a chocolate chip scone for a snack and wine and turkey sliders for dinner. Am I drinking enough water?
YELP REVIEW: GOOD NITE INN, CALABASAS, CALIFORNIA
No Kardashians but otherwise excellent. Could use a few more international non-English language channels on TV to represent the area. There’s a decent Starbucks that’s walkable. No Kardashians there, either, but lots of law enforcement. I feel better at least knowing the Kardashians are safer than in Paris.