As I awoke this morning, the impending reality of reality wrecked havoc with my mind. I found myself in my usual habitat, which was an oddity in that I had gone to bed elsewhere. Had I acted foolishly? What regrettable actions had I undertaken? Why did I drink so much beer? What did that girl think when she strolled by as I was taking a piss behind the Cradle? How did I get back to my bed?
I had to take action against this ever-descending down. I looked around and saw the latest issue of THE SUN. And I read that SUN from front to back, extracting every benefit it held, so that as I finished reading, I envisioned the skeleton of a sun. There were strong vibes. The power of that sun had not been stripped, but rather had diffused into me. I accepted with great joy.
I still feel shitty, but not half as.
Instead of all the pseudo-intellectualizing and artsy-fartsy reflections, how about a little lean meat for the hungry citizens, like:
Who runs this town and why are they giving the green light to so many apartment houses and fast food franchises?,
Where to find a mechanic you can trust?,
Whether there’s a law against outdoor cafes (or is it just that everyone here likes the smell of stale beer)?,
A way to stretch your food dollar, now that we’re all headed for the poorhouse (and wondering whether the corporate food giants, on the one hand, and the only slightly less cannibalistic health food industry, on the other, are going to leave us with nothing to chew but our fingernails)?,
What the gay scene is like and the heterosexual scene, too (do lovers still walk down Franklin Street singin? Let’s bring music out of the closet).
I could go on and on, but you’re better at that. As Tennessee Williams said, the mistake you make is trying to figure it out. Now that you’ve satisfied our longing to understand the big riddles — love and god and, oh yes, money — come back home and let’s get started on the really hard ones: like, why do the buses smell so bad?