AFTER AN 'ALL-NIGHTER' OF TRYING TO THINK MYSELF TO SLEEP....VIEWING THE UNEDITABLE STREAMING FROM THE CAVERNS OF SEMI-CONSCIOUS INSOMNIA.......THEN WATCHING THE SUNRISE OF THE LAST DAY OF 2024......

In a world of "images"......hundreds of millions on the hard drives of my own computers.......my Life, in Stuff, digitally documented......decorated surfaces, with referenced ideas and notions, suggestions of mortality, illustrative glossy memorabilia of Life with dimensional indicators......page markers, entwines, separators, consolidations, collaborations and virtual mutualizations of keyboard interstices of gathered photons, reacting to genetic programs, at some level, actually unique in the smallest venues of consciousness........symbols and containers, squares and rectangles that bypass the unfathomable Geometry for the confidences of square corners and flat planes....Film-making, moving completely into the Matrix, eliminating the fleshy egos of big-budget movie stars, making room for the Art, replacing the big screen....full of rich actors....with digital personalities, lacking the "Life" behind black pupils....a logical contrivance evolution from the worlds of gaming and virtual imaginings.......Anime with cerebral connectivity, clumsy eroticism, and purposefully eliminated subtlety of human interactions......the throes of absorption by the Borg.......keep your fingers near the keys, blue-tooth devices implanted in your ear canals, and your eyes on your screens.......Did you just say something, Petunia? I wasn't listening. Isn't the "real" world somewhere else? ....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQkHA3fHk_0

A photo, scanned from a 35MM contact sheet....me, posing as 'sales staff' at Stefan's Vintage Haberdashery, during its inception...."May I serve you?"......Then, one could smoke while 'waiting on' a client.......

 

MEMORY FROM A BUSINESS CARD.........

Under some a/c filters, a copy of Robert Pirsig's Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance........the last book that I read, during my 20's.......I just gave it to a neighbor, who asked if it were a book on repairing motorcycles.........Inside......a 'Pirsig' quote: on the back of a business card from Kent Lee, my 'boss' at Saks at that time...and, who was convinced that I would 'burn in Hell' for 'not believing'.....

 

WHY I HAVEN'T BEEN AT THE DENTIST'S OFFICE IN 13 YEARS!

 MY FIRST 'VISIT' TO THE 'FAMILY DENTIST' WAS A COMPLETE SURPRISE,  SINCE I WAS LED TO BELIEVE THAT I WAS GOING TO 'THE MOVIES'......WHEN I VIEWED THIS 'CONTRAPTION' AND THE DENTIST BEGAN TO STICK A SHARP 'THING' INTO MY GUMS, I KICKED THE WHITE GLASS TRAY TO TO FLOOR, BREAKING IT AND SPREADING THE TOOLS ACROSS THE ROOM......AFTER WHICH,  I FLED, WITH THE WHITE NAPKIN STILL ABOUT MY NECK.....TO CLINTON STREET......EVEN NOW, I HAVE PROFOUND 'DENTAL ANXIETY'.........EVEN THOUGH THE EQUIPMENT, UTILIZED NOW, IS FAR LESS INTIMIDATING.....

'All Work and Little Playtime', a century before the 'All Play and as little Work as possible' Era of Now......

When friends, who have homes, 2 year old vehicles and pricy 'latest' mobile phones...whine about their misfortunes .....I just look at this old photo of these pitiable kids, in rags, all under 15, that worked 12 hour days, 6 days a week, in dusty, cold/hot conditions at the Ragland Mills in Old West Huntsville, Alabama ....a century ago......making cotton thread to survive....This morning, an NPR program about the evolution of X-mas, based on the Dickens' tale, A CHRISTMAS STORY with references to OLIVER TWIST...was being discussed.......as memories flowed from my brain's storage neuron-connects, of stories that my Grandfather told us, of his Youth, where he toiled in a cotton mill, as did many young boys and girls....during the Industrial Revolution of the late 19th Century........

CAPILLARY ACTION.......BEGINS WITH A BEATING HEART

 

All the writing I've done in my life, placed 'end to end', would reach the moon.....but that was never an intentional destination.......There's never been a destination in my mind......I guess that's why my avalanche of verbiage never really went anywhere....strings of words are like pencil and ink drawings....they go where they go, often with no intention whatsoever......then another sheet of media begins the journey anew....Eventually, and hopefully, a map appears, in retrospect.....but the map is but a labyrinth from the unconscious to the realizable......So, burn after reading....or just file it all away for some academic scholar who may spend a lifetime assembling, reassembling and projecting meaning upon all this jargon.........It's all in the margins, after all......waiting for the reweave on NPR, in an interview with yet another academic writer, in a morning interview, with hopes...and copious footnotes....promoting their "Lives Of Others" posturing to the Drugstore's 'best sellers' rack, next to the cash registers...

 when overwhelmed by loud noises or several people talking at once.....I discovered, long ago, that the best thing for me to do...is re-focus...replacing the stimuli to one sense to that of another.......especially on nearby sharply defined objects, which seems to muffle the edges of my diminishing constraints. Yellow, with green, is especially effective....... I think this is one reason that I became a photographer.....to re-focus on still, visual stimuli rather than endure cacophony.....then....as I just was studying the cinematography of David O. Russell, becoming fixated on his "emotionally disasterous" scenes .....and all of his films have mountains of these: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_kItBZZK1p0 Perhaps I am delusional to even consider, or imagine, a World without dramatic inconclusiveness or desperate, competitive attention seeking.....detached, as David Clemens wished his world was, in his own mind, oblivious to the mixed metaphors of Reality, the outreach for connectivity seeming to always assume the posturings of children, seeking approval, then rejecting this for doubt and uncertainty...

THE 'BRICK WALL' RING

 

which I wear when in Laissez-moi mood........

I QUIT COUNTING THE DEAD, FOUR YEARS AGO..........after this sad list was made........and I stopped at "L" ...It was too depressing to journey to 'Z'...

 Jim Lancaster, Sonny Laughmiller, Linda Marsh, Larry McBride, Eddie Monks, Fredna Mott, Wilfred "Bushy" Mrazek, Sandra Myers, Antje Neubert, Ellis “Pete” Overton, Thomas Payne, Hans Palaoro, Arlen “Buster” Petty, Jody Pilling, Paula Price, Miriam Reynolds, Mike Rothe, Dottie Sayers, Hartwig Schulze, Charles Shannon, Don York,

"Sparky” Sparks, Linda Spier, Wanda Stewart, Billy Stevens,

Randy Sublett, Charles Taylor, Chloe Walling, Virginia Wilson, Craft Wood, Don York, Gerry Allen, Butch Anderson, George Apostolos, Jurgen Arndt, Lesley Ayers, Linda Barksdale, Larry Beach, Walter Bennett, Edwina Bibb, Cecil Bishop. Norman Bradley, Ronnie Bright, Dian Broadway, Janice Brown.........and even more, that had dropped 'off the radar".......kids that I grew up with, went to schools, summer camps, college, dance classes, took basket weaving with, skated on Saturday mornings with, 'made out' at the 'drive-in' with, ran, swam, played hop scotch, tennis and badminton with, kicked the flag and stole the banner with, and graduated from High School with......are all dead now!.......I just received yet another 'uplifting' list of 'the dead' from our High School Alumni Leader.......I was going to "" out these 'kids' from the old Pierian High School Annual.....but thought better of that! How depressing! When we were 18, we all thought we would live forever.....alas, that was utter fantasy and denial, wasn't it?

Janice Brown, Lois Bruce, Yvonne Burgins, Jan Case, Gary Clark, Shelley Cotton, Linda Craver, Jane Crowson, Demeta Davis, Betty Dinwiddie, Mary Dogen, Pat Doster, Don Dudley, Patsy Emerson,

Pat Engle, Lyndon Faulkenberry, Camille Fleming, Pete Fleming, Jerry Franklin, Larry Fretwell, Marsha Futch, Charmion Hanson, Burt Hanvey, Harmon Hastings, Carolyn Herring, Patsy Hill, Sally Hill, Harold Kaspareck, Russell Kennemer, John Kinzer, Katherine Krempl, Kenneth LaBorde and Bob Lada........ all 'Dead' too!.... Just a few tough old birds, like myself, that are still kicking around....or just walking, or 'wheeling', or 'crutching' around......

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PICTORIAL RELATIVITY

 

simple perspectives vanish when multiple points determine more complex geometry.....from swimming in the streams and rivers to delving the depths of the once unconscious.....to creative minds, the associations are endless and a single thought, like a single image or note, signals to the watchmen of our minds to open the floodgates at the risk of returning to a single point, yet to expand to revelation.....

MORE NEW PANTS STYLES...... NO 'LEG-TIGHT JEANS' OR BAGGY BOTTOMS FOR ME.....I NEED TO FEEL 'FREE'....

 

A PAGE, FULL OF REASONS TO HOP A BUS TO NYC, AND NOT ATTENDING MY 1967 UNIVERSITY GRADUATION CEREMONY

While The Hilding Holmberg Orchestra was snoozing through 1940's 'swing music' at The Elk's Club Ballroom,  in my 'home town' in North Alabama......and The Lawrence Welk Show ruled the Television World on weekends........

Marian McPartland's 'Bohemian' cellar bar performance was one of the more preferred options... of so many...... playing in NYC at The Apartment Supper Club, along with Blossom Dearie, Dizzy Gillespie, Clark Terry, Stan Getz, Sun Ra, Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, Tim Buckley, The Blues Project, Nico, Jackson Browne, and Reparata & the Delrons.

BLOSSOM DEARIE'S  "I'M HIP"  

I'm hip, I'm no square
I'm alert, I'm awake, I'm aware
I am always on the scene
Makin' the rounds, diggin' the sounds
I read Playboy magazine 'Cause I'm hip

I dig, I'm in step
When it was hip to be hep, I was hep
I don't blow, but I'm a fan
Look at me swing, ring-a-ding-ding
I even call my girlfriend "man" i'm so hip
Every Saturday night
With my suit buttoned tight, and my suedes on
I'm gettin' my kicks
Watchin' arty French flicks with my shades on

I'm too much, I'm a gas
I am anything but middle class
When I hang around the band
Poppin' my thumbs, diggin' the drums
Squares don't seem to understand why I flip
They're not hip like I'm hip

I'm hip, I'm alive
I enjoy any joint where there's jive
I'm on top of every trend
Look at me go, vo dee oh doh
Bobby Darin knows my friend i'm so hip

I'm hip, but not weird
Like you notice I don't wear a beard
Beards were in but now they're out
They had their day, now they're passe
Just ask me if you're in doubt
'Cause I'm hip now whatever the fads
And whatever the ads say, it's neatsville
I'll be keeping abreast
Out in front of the rest with elitesville

'Cause I'm cool, as a cuke
I'm a cat, I'm a card, I'm a kook
I get so much out of life
Really, I do, skoo-buh doo boo
One more time play "Mack the Knife"
Let 'er rip i may flip
But I'm hip

Ooh, I'm hip mm, I'm hip
Skoo ba doo boo, doo boo, doo boo
Boo doo boo doo doo doo

Oct. 21, 2016........driving past Inman Middle School.....disloging a long-forgotten childhood memory......

 

I hope I'm not arrested for my action this afternoon......Driving past Inman Middle School an hour ago.....I witnessed 3 'clickish' boys, hitting an albino boy, who was crying and putting his hands over his face to ward off his attackers; and, without much thought, I stopped my car in traffic, jumped out and grappled with the bullies, who fled from the 'old person'. They were mocking me as they ran........The small kid's mother came by and took him to her car, saying 'this happens all the time'......I wanted to chase down the bullies, but ....I am 71, after all, and that would be a fruitless undertaking....and all the car moms were honking, impatiently, behind my car.....Aaargh! I recalled those comix ads for Charles Atlas courses that showed skinny kids, surrounded by muscular bullies who were kicking sand in his face.......I was that skinny kid, of course!

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OBSERVING THE LATE-BLOOMING ZINNIAS....AND THE MEMORY ASSOCIATIONS FROM THE LABYRINTH OF CHILDHOOD

I remember, as a boy, my grandmother asking me to fold some mauvey-pink paper napkins for a croquet party......i opted to spend hours folding the little cocktail napkins into calla lily shapes and clustering them into a giant zinnia.......Grandpa's dog, Rex, rolled over onto a folding leg of the samsonite card table upon which I was creating this project ........it was like Alice in Wonderland's collapsing cards....fifty flat, pink napkins lying on the grass.......the older i get, the more fragments of the past float through my consciousness.

ED WOOD

 "One is always considered mad when one discovers something that others cannot grasp."

Ed Wood

#BornThisDay – October 10, 1924

CHECKING OUT REAL ESTATE PRICES IN HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA......

I recall all those...many....houses that my step-father built on Monte Sano Mountain in the 1950's and '60's.....  This afternoon, I noticed a listing for this rather ugly crate of a house.....originally sold for $30,000.....and, today, after being redecorated, aimlessly, with a few junky antiques...incidentally, not included in the price of the house,  and a new coat of paint, being put up for sale for $743,800!