Friends like these

Some days you’re thin, some days you have hair, but you’re always old.

I had friends who were sociopaths 

What I wondered made me friends

Howard was the worst

He tortured Clarence and the physics boy he called

In the middle of the night

But he died at 40 and I could stop thinking

Will was bad an awful model I followed all over

We went everywhere in cars at 130 or more

And he did not care who won but him

I also knew a ravaged man who thought he had the Christ

But didn’t even mistaken understand I was close to Him for real

And he never ever 

Like any of them

Knew a credit card from the commandments or God

I have had bad friends

But they have saved me from time to time

Howard said, ‘Hit them before they get done yelling,’ and he was right.

Will said, “Turn off the back lights and they can’t find you,” and he was right

Rob Davey said, ‘Never let them find you on the Internet.’ Why They’re still after me…

But they will find you Rob and you will see the night

Because I now know why I had these friends

They had no empathy though I did

And all we had in common was a total lack of fear

Which I lost when I was ten

On the Leonardo da Vinci

Go figure

Or you can listen to it here: 








Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The After Party

Image
Writers? A Murder of Crows Had a thing here this evening. Everybody present. S’great. You got to keep watch all the time, keep the predators away from prey. Twice I had to rescue Nathanael West from Sylvia Plath. She had that thin-lip teeth-deep-inside look going. I gave him a whiskey sour and she moved on. Barthelme was weeping again. Best to leave him alone when he’s like that. Otherwise you get too many minimalist paragraphs of extravagant grief. Nearly had to shoot Beckett. Damn good looking cuss. Women line up to wait for him. Useless to tell them he has the IQ of a turnip. Kafka died again. He always has to top Camus. Messy messy, as usual. Had some fine drinks with the two F’s, Scott and Bill, tied with me for the worst first novels in history. (Thurber’s Henry James screech doesn’t count.) Willa Cather took off her top. At least Kafka didn’t have to see that. Then things got ugly between me and JJ, the fake one-eyed wonder, when I told him I’d written a cosmology bigger than...
Read more

Impaired Consciousness is the Invisible Plague

Image
  The physical aspect of the mind at work … The state of the nation at this point is terminal. As far as I know I’m the only one who fully understands why this is so, because I’m the only one who has devoted a writing life so continuously to the subject of human consciousness.   It’s only now that we can finally see the symptoms that demonstrate what is really wrong with the people who are responsible for leading civilization through the storms and rapids of our times. They are suffering from profound impairments of consciousness. In point of fact, almost everyone is, including the people who are emotionally and intellectually on ‘our side’. There are three distinct U.S. populations coming sharply into focus one calendar year before the make or break decisions of November 2024. All three are impaired. Mathematically, each of these can be considered a set.  There’s the set which is engaged compulsively in a civilization-level process of murder-suicide. Their actions are so...
Read more

I could blow it all up

Image
  The real me. Why I keep fighting to tell you. I could tell you all a lot about life, Trumpsters and Haters. Why don’t I? Why haven’t I? Because I invented a new kind of writing meant to survive me physically, which turns out to have been a bad bet. For example, I know far more about the gender (i.e., sex) thing than anyone imprisoned in niche paranoia understands. Except for youth mutilation, it’s all understandable and addressable. I know more about the Christian variosity than anyone else has had the wit to understand. From Catholics to Evangelicals I have a unifying theory. Worse for you, I can connect all my current insights to massive works I’ve already written. Been on to you all along. My unofficial subtitle for this post is “Songs About Me.” Why I begin with one of my favorites over the years… Bowie or me just drunk… Yeah, I’m both and been mistaken by both. Come back and explain this later.  So. Songs. About me. Which is just ducking the question. I get to a place y...
Read more