"~\A/~"

Believe in everything.

Then go back later to figure what's true.

"Creole"

Facebook sometimes gives you things you wrote in the past.

I woke this morning to this one.

I had four major operations that Spring. This is one of my musings of that time.

April 29th, 2017
For Real Post Op Musings. # 12,...I think.

(Granted this may be getting tiresome. However I need to write it down. If you just look at the picture, and move on this would not at all offend,...loves ya)

The warnings I was given by so many here 'not' to drag my 50 pounds of laundry in by myself were more than correct. It was not without consideration of the dangers, but I thought it needful. The whole month of April has been damp humid rainy. Mildew abounded...esp. in my hamper. I had to get that stuff dealt with so did.
Getting there was difficult, but I made it...so far so good. However the coming home...
To begin it was a very warm humid day...shades of the summer to come.
It was the warmest brightest part of the afternoon. The sun seemed to get brighter as I walked. All the colors were being washed away the edges of things blurring. Sounds becoming soft.
I was in an extreme sweat,...a kind of heat stroke?
I leaned against a building wall to catch my breath. After a time a few minutes...half hour don't know I continued on.
I got to my digs, and fell at once to sleep.
I'm guessing I was out for perhaps 10 to 12 hours since it was near dawn of the next day when I awoke.

This event put me in mind of my surroundings, and the coming, and going of life our lives all life.

My digs are in a building near 120 years old. For any structure on the continent this is a near Roman relic.

The European era in these lands are so recent our oldest makings are actually rather recent. In other parts of the world Asia, and Europe things are very different.

People still live in places that have been in continuous use for centuries. 300 to 500+ years old, and still with folks hanging out carrying on living in them. Imagine if not for the mass bombings of WW2 much more of Europe's medieval real-estate would still be with us.

This puts me in mind of that now classic S/F film "Brother from Another Planet". An off world ship without notice quietly crashes into NY harbor. It's only crew who happens to be Black swims to Ellis Island. There as he touches the walls through his fingers he hears the voices of the many generations that passed through this place. Came through in hopes of a new better life. Somebody please tell that to Trump.

So here in my near 120 year old digs. Would that I now right now this moment reach out, and touch my walls. I if I could I would hear German Polish Yiddish Spanish French Creole, and yes even English. The words murmurs, and prayers of the generations that lived in these very rooms from which I now post to the world.

(Note that last April was Summer like. This April is Cold. The Jet-Stream is erratic, New Climate.)

"...I'm fine with it""

In an effort to cheer myself up I'm writing a story. All about G-ds, and Muses. Just a little nice thing about the end of the world. I had the idea when I was in hospital for smoke inhalation,...this time. Next time who knows.

Anyway in hospitals as I saw ends of worlds are common. Well individual personal worlds. People just don't want to die at home anymore. There's a dissertation or standup routine in this somewhere. That, and zillions expect an afterlife.

Gold fish ladybugs sweaty annoying humans die. If there's an "afterlife" it's in those few moments to a few hours that your bio-electrical field takes to dissipate.

The end.

Amazing how hard this is take. Granted there may be Quantum Hyper-Beings that are immortal. Call'em gawds if ya wants, but we ain't them.

We die.

Just having gawds around don't automatically mean we live forever too. Oak trees live thousands of years. That don't mean we will too.

We invented religion to save us from Dying. These which ironically gave us so much death through the ages. Folks built giant bleeping pyramids, and today mega-churches they're so afraid of it.

I've faced death many times in my day. Twice in the last month. I ain't a fan of gruesome suffering. However not death it seems.
I keep forgetting to be terrified.
Upset later, but never at the moment.

Maybe because death comes, and goes in a tiny fraction of a second.

Well our awareness does.

Boffins think we stay "alive" in a way till our bio-electrical field drifts away. Ya know like the smoke from a candle. This being the case make shit count.

On the other hand. If I wake up in some sort of paradise wonderland behind the wheel of a sky blue 1957 Corvette with my childhood dog "Brownie" next to me. I'll be fine with it.

Thanks I'll be here all weekend, and my Cd's, and t-shirts are in the back. Tell ya friends.

Btw,...Hot Pink would be okay too.

"Gone!!!"

I want one! I'm da fuck out'a here!

I hear the cops don't shoot you for going to the library on Mars. That, and there's not enough air for fires. Sounds good to me.

"...brutal"

The subject of the graphic novel "The Ministry of Space' came up on another page. I gave an outline of the series, and then collected book.
Specifically the Brits steal gold taken from the mouths of murdered Jews as well as their plundered wealth. This from the defeated Nazi's. This is what they use for their space program, and their post-war prosperity.
No rationing, and bleak 1950's as the Brits have a post war boom as wealthy as the U.S. The seed money for which was massive amounts of re-stolen blood money.

They later shut out the Yanks by beating them to then claiming, and colonizing all of the Moon, and Mars.

The Yanks eventually find out about the Holocaust money. How the British financed their boom, and space race. They gathered 'vivid' proof, and black mailed the Brit Empire.

Yanks want a piece of the Moon, and Mars or they release everything to the world. This would effectively end the renewed Empire. Which btw practices Apartheid,...."nasty twist" indeed.
I only spill the beans w/spoilers because as far as I know this graphic novel is for now out of print.

(...it's come, and gone over the years.)

Still it's an interesting if brutal concept.

"In Other News,..."

"KIM WALKS ON MOON!"

Korean Mob Bosses have Sit-Down.

"...still processing"

Above my plain tidy Zen empty digs before the nukes went off.

The worse of the smoke effects are dissipating from my no longer so tidy digs. There was a serious fire in the place below me last Saturday. I had to be taken to hospital for smoke inhalation.
See the scary details in posts below.

They put these detox fan-things into assorted places on a few floors. This to suck out the toxic Rads from all over the place. I imagine whole regions out west had the same thing writ large. This from the great forest fires brought on by our New Climate.

Many thousands went through what we did here. I can't imagine.

Me? Swell. Still pain in my chest some coughing w/blood.

Miracle is no one died. Though a little girl downstairs was almost lost to the smoke. Thank the gawds she pulled through.

...still in hospital though.

It's been a full month around here what with nearly being shot dead by cops for walking home from the library while black. To dying of smoke inhalation while asleep,...and black.

I look forward to a less entertaining summer.

Though right now as they pointed out at the hospital. I'm going through a post-trauma thing. I have a dear Priest pal that offered to bring Holy Communion to my home to comfort me.

To a 'Katholic this is like having Elvis come by to suck your dick.

Excuse my vulgarity, but it's that serious. I told my pal I'd let him know. I was really moved by the offer btw. He really wants me to be good wit da Lawd. Hey I do what I can.

This has been a hell of a few years here.

What with my intermittent famines ongoing health crap suicidal periods being retired now so broke, and generally freaked out, and pissed of. Now cops pointing guns at me, and fucking fires. Did I mention that smoke was coming up through my living room floor?

This exactly as happened in the Twins Towers. Described thus via cell phone,...then silence. Smoke through the floors then the first flames break through then,...silence.

Of course I didn't think of that at the time. One is numb in life threatening events. I had humor about it. As the smoke was coming up I swept the plaster, and concrete. This from the fucking wall the fire-persons knocked to hell in my digs.

It's later after a shower a meal, and time that you think of shit.

More later.

"Things are really fucked these days"

Everybody's nuts, and everything is getting worse.

I feel adrift in a sea of madness vicious meanness danger ugliness.

I so weary of this while others revel in it.

"...history, stories"

This image I found online sums up NYC in the 1970's. Before you start I'm black. It was mostly Blacks on the business end of young men like him.
If he lived I imagine he'd be in or near his 60's now. I would so be interested in his oral history or if he got an education eventually his book.
This of his life. What he did then, and how he feels about it now, and what if anything he see as our future.

I think the legacy of what his generation did is behind at least part of the current deadly police culture.

This when many American cities were low intensity warfare zones.

I think it may still be too early for an objective study of that era. All of the historic economic racial cultural factors that came together for a period of American urban apocalypse.

Like the Vietnam era this story can't be honestly told till all that were involved all that lived it are gone. Then their grandchildren or great grandchildren.

They unencumbered by the distortions of the culture wars will tell the true story of that harsh time.

"...sense"

In a nutshell above. The crap I've been making building fooling with since my retirement. What with the world, and everything near me literally burning down.

One takes a kind of comfort in the little things.

In the old days it was massive drug intake. That, and 18 hour on air production, and engineering shifts.

It should have killed me. However it didn't because I actually loved it. If you have something you love that makes sense, and you're doing it with good pals you're okay...you'll live fine.

However if you're on your own.

Well...

I'm mostly on my own, but still hanging on. Not crazed cops or fires seems able to put me down. So it looks like I'm here to the last reel after all. Stay the fucked tuned.

"Brushes vs Digital"

To the sounds of the Air Detoxer grinding in the background. This removing the aroma of last weekend's fire in the digs right below mine.
I experimented to the paint box on my computer. For me it was always hard to do with a mouse.
A computer mouse as opposed to "Ignatz Mouse", and "Krazy" up there. Speaking of which I just colorized a "Krazy Kat" strip from over 100 years or so ago.

It's close slow work with a mouse so now I have a headache. I used to water color my ink drawing of my Angels. It was far easier with a nip pen, and brushes.
With an old strip one first has to work on the brightness contrast all that. Then slowly work the damn mouse to color on the outside of the inked images.

There's probably a program somewhere in my computer that ignores the black ink of the original art.
One can then just gleefully slop the colors on.
However I'd need an 11 year old school kid to show me how to use it. 
I'll stick to brushes.

"Getting back to Trains"

Watch the train video below. A bleeping bat out of hell on rails. A flying Brit "Loco" going nuts with speed. The damned things almost makes the Industrial Revolution seem like a good idea.

"Wild Rabbits of the Moon"

I'll be damned. Padraig was right!

It's fucking "Bob the Bunny" on the Moon!!

I took the shot from my flaming window.

Here's a sharper NASA image of Bob below.

Da fuck's he doing up there.

This reminds me of a story I wrote several thousand years ago.

"The Wild Rabbits of the Moon"

I found this art piece on the web the other day. It really appealed to me. A tribal lad painted with river mud, and dye from tropical flowers. All this to be properly decorated to greet the crescent moon.

I remember, long ago. Back when cars had fins, and everything was in black, and white. I remember my grand aunt telling me that ‘rabbits’ live on the moon. That if you looked real close you’d not only see the “Man in the Moon”, but quick rabbits as well.

So our hero here is all painted, and ready to fly with the moon’s rabbits.

Maybe it’s my meds, but I find this surreal idea pleasing. Quite pleasing indeed. If only I could go back to grand aunt Josey’s house as the lad I was. Go back, and ask her to paint me like an Indian boy. Like an Amazon boy.

Then we’d wait for moon rise. At just the right moment I’d leap, and be caught by the Selena’s tides. The Luna winds, and I’d run, fly with the wild rabbits of the moon.

"Afternoon Tea"

Odd I just had a thought. An animated film. A fictitious afternoon in the life of James Baldwin. Perhaps his meeting Walt Whitman outside of the 42nd street Library. The story goes from there. They might meet John Donne in Chinatown.

Our heroes decide to have a light lunch of dumplings, and green tea. It's a crisp mid-fall afternoon in October 1962. The unlikely meeting hardly surprises them. They being mystics all assume such is to be expected from time to time,...so to speak.

"This electricity how you so depend on it" said John investigating his dumplings. "I saw it's beginnings" said Walt.

"I hardly notice it" grumbled James.

He continued.

"I should have got a Coke, and a pack of Chesterfields"

There was a sudden rumble the floor shook. 

Seems in this alternate reality Cuba got HOT.

They looked up.

The sky was on fire.

"This is where I came in"

said Dunne not at all surprised.

"The Last of Winter"

"Meth on Wheels"

Watch the video below.

It's just 30 seconds.
"The Great Western" chewing up the Brit countryside at 100mph. 

Well okay it's really 75 mph or so, but so what it's neat.

"La Luna"

The Moon from my Smoky Window this Morning.

A Nuke going off outside of my bedroom window. This as it would I think appear if a terror-nuke Islamic or Nazi hit the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
I was sitting up after I got home. See post below. I was looking through my photo shots, and saw a sunrise I took several years ago.
I fiddled with it, and came up with this.

A mediation on the suddenness of events.

I was walking while Black from the library a few weeks ago, and came face to cop. It would have been so easy to have been killed that day. One sudden move would have earned me the traditional 20 bullets.

Two mornings ago I'm awakened by sharp smoke. Now here I am. Not dead again. Though I should be. This would give anyone pause as events seem to be coming closer together.

Things are what they are. So my reaction is as any rational person's.

'Bleep it.

...and you just keep moving on.

Mostly because I really don't know what else to do. I think the image that will always stay with me is opening my door, and seeing the hallway floor to ceiling in smoke, and the red orange glow in the background down the stairs. In that moment I knew I would die. In the same way I knew those cops were going to kill me.

I wasn't afraid. That hadn't occurred to me yet.

Events are closer now.

Life like the approach of death is a strange, and compelling thing. It's no wonder religions, and whole schools of art,...see snaps above, are based on it.

Stay Tuned.