”So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.” ― Dr. Seuss
You know, I was looking around for a quote about the need to write, because that’s where the title comes from. I couldn’t find one and didn’t feel like making it into research project, because that would fuck up the haphazard style of yours truly. I smiled when I read the Dr. Seuss quote, primarily because it lightened up the possibility of my getting heavy: “The writer, alone in his tower, bleeds his next words on to the page”
I keep interrupting myself and it is a pain in the ass. I’ll tell you what makes it even worse and it goes by the name of memory. Sometimes, I’ll forget why I was breaking and entering my mind. At least when I write, I’m leaving a trail of words, so I can’t get lost.
Let me tell you, I am fucken thrilled to still be here and living the life I’ve been gifted. Believe me, I am also well aware of the worn out body mechanics and the infinite variety of temporary malfunctions. It is also an outstanding idea to work at being unhurried. Today begins taking precedence over tomorrow. Grace can be just a little more elusive at my age, but still worth giving it a go. Then, Lowell comes along and the world around me is imitating my personal challenges.
The trail of mental breadcrumbs is right up there in the title, the reason why I got started on this page in the first place. I got a potpourri feeling about filling this cup of words. I was sitting where I usually sit most of the time when I’m home. It is like this invisible capsule. It’s just me and my mind and there are no external distractions of any kind, except and always, my music. As luck would have it, being stuck with my mind is certainly a mixed blessing. I am supposed to say that, because my mind wouldn’t have it any other way. It tries to be fair, I hope.
So, why did I start writing this in the first place? Like I’ve already said, “saved by the title.” How could I possibly sit here and not talk about the aftermath of Lowell? Now wait! I am only going to talk about me and Lowell and how incredibly disorienting it has been for an old guy in love with his habits. In some ways, it feels like the canvas has been wiped clean and the colors are slowly coming back together again.
When something like Lowell happens, we tend to focus only on the physicality of the circumstances. It is easy to ignore how we feel. What is it like to have your world turned upside down? For me, it has been disorienting as hell. Turning off my mind and its penchant for details, I am left with feelings. Walking around here in the dark with no power, I took out my borrowed flashlight and looked inside myself. It is like waking up in some strange kind of dream world, where making sense ain’t that easy.
While thinking about it all, the idea of balance slipped into my excuse for consciousness. Physically, I have been wrestling with my own balance, one of those age afflictions. Sure, I do yoga and sometimes stand on one leg, but I am often saved by the adjacent wall. Yes, there is no doubt that Lowell threw off my balance, a different use of the word than the one-legged, circus trick. To me, it is more than a physical inconvenience, running deep inside and shorting out some of the circuits I’ve just taken for granted.
It took about a mili-second to look at the world we are all living in and how it is totally out of balance, a victim of Hurricane Greed. Years ago, while living in Santa Fe, I saw an incredible film called, Koyaanisqatsi. There was no dialogue, just footage of this country gone crazy, unconsciously trampling on any semblance of humanity, an ode to unbridled progress. We now have a bloated, orange maestro, conducting a discordant symphony of sycophants, with that same insanity.
A bunch of paragraphs ago, I mentioned that I can always check in with the title of this story to get back on track. I started writing the day after Lowell whacked us. I was sitting around in my aforementioned capsule, contemplating who knows what? Genius that I am, writing seemed like a good way to kill the boredom. I am being a little hard on myself here. When my mind is in a place, where it just kind of looks around, that’s writing time for yours truly. I enjoy writing one story for a number of days, so it gets the perspective of time and assorted thoughts, with a modest amount of neurotic editing thrown in. How brilliant? A writer writing about writing. Boring!
While Lowell is slowly moving away from nightmare to memory, my balance is returning, but the world outside of my little one is tragically fucked up. My America has been hijacked by the White-Male-Christian-Billionaires. These motherfuckers would eat their own children. Did you know this country has gone nuts before? One twin happened around the start of the First World War, with scary similarities It will blow your mind. I wonder if there were any voices back then speaking for freedom and human rights? I hope it wasn’t all dark and hopeless. I am probably better off not knowing, so I can be a voice that just doesn’t want to give up fucken hope!
I am sorry if this has been kind of scattered. I’m gonna blame Lowell. Let me tell you something, if your name is Lowell you deserve to take shit. You could only get away with it if you were a jock or a genius.
Before I go, I gotta get this one thing off my mind. Every morning, I go to a site called Drop Site Daily. They have incredibly detailed reporting of the genocide in Gaza. I am in tears pretty much each time. I cry over the monstrous behavior of Israel. The only thing missing are the gas chambers for the Final Palestinian Solution. I swear to God, I don’t understand how our country feeds these bastards with all the weapons they need. Yes, I do.
I confess to being one of the schmucks, who thinks we are better than this. Personally, I think the alternative sucks.
Listen, if you’ve gotten all the way here, I want to thank you for your tolerance and patience. I mean it.
LISTEN TO IT HERE:
https://www.buzzsprout.com/admin/1292459/episodes/19829000-hell-i-might-as-well-write