Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Trapped In Old Time Radio

Damn, I wish they’d fix that stinkin time machine and come get me outa this. At first it was a trip bein stuck here in the 40’s but the banality is getting on my nerves…. Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Red Skelton, Dennis Day, Jack Benny Jesus, yeah Jesus, him too I guess, why’s everything have to be so prettied up with ribbons and bows and all that urban ego bluster, buster, but isn’t that the way it is anyway? Specially in the arts? I like the shows where somebody gets killed and you gotta find out who dunnit. We all know who dunnit. It’s the listener f’r Chrissakes but

don’t it just make it that much easier to see the joke of time, the corny crap they feed us selling cigarettes and lipstick, muscle cars and floor wax and so called enriched bread over the radio. What a sick sad joke, all those big deep voices of gutless irritable old men crackling thru all that static which they say is an echo from the Big Bang. Big Deal I call it, sounds like mauve (which rhymes with love) which they also say is the color scheme for the whole damn dumb universe BUTTT….

here WE are… and it’s all photographic grain in this cheap movie we’re making, me’n my baby in our little bitty apartment with the tiny Frigidaire the dining room set built like a Sherman tank with formica for armor, and my little Willys Overland and my 78s (and here’s to you, Bix Beiderbecke, and here’s to you, Eddie South, Paris, 1927, love ya madly, baby!)….all of which I chose because I don’t buy ANY of their run of the ad mill crap. Me’n my baby. Hah! I used to wonder why Bob just laughed when I stole her away from him and told him we were gonna get married, but now I know. TOO MUCH like they say in the detective novels when somebody’s about to get shot.

I’ve seen her make women cry just by talking about how dirty their houses are. She makes ME cry! I think she always thinks the room is dirty because her mom told her her womb was dirty. I thought she’d be a nice kind wife cause she’s a nurse, cause she gives money to bums, but she votes Republican and never lets you forget about it

No wonder my face looks like a road map and I got this feeling like I’m weaving a rug with a rope and a bucket of sand, and the road splays out in the headlights like an unsolved crime

It’s so damn dark out there and everybody asleep even when they’re awake and I know wer’e not getting outa this mess alive…ah but she’s a sweet little thing, alright, my baby, got me working night and day at the stupid job down at the power plant. And relaxing by playing scrabble badly. Kinda poeticly ya know? Cept she don’t like it, nor the times when I’m laughin so hard, especially at the politicians up there on the high stage in three piece suits but naked I mean BUTT naked from the waist down.

She sent me outa the house this evening cause she’s cleaning again and I’m laughing uncontrollably again, and I’m sittin out here on the back porch watching the fireflies and the leaves fluttering in the wind

And I can see now how without doing anything wrong it’s possible to get trapped in a miserable situation for the rest of your life. I got a sinking sensation that time machine can’t be fixed because I think it violates some physical law or something.

Or maybe the future’s been annihilated. I told them the feedback loops were capable of infinite and increasingly rapid acceleration without human contribution and they just laughed at me. “Do Something.” Was the last communication I got. How’m I supposed to do something with a broken universal hub frequency transmitter and no parts? And who’d believe me here even if I got it working? I’ve seen the letters from the doctor at the psych ward at her hospital piling up. I think she’s planning on having me committed.

And it’s getting dark out there. Really dark. If you know what I mean.


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