Toy Trucks And Shaved Pussies

28 Sept 2014

Now that is a muscle truck. A former German Police vehicle.

We boys just cannot give it up… Power trucks and shaved pussies. Dominance and submission. Religion and femme chattel.

I spent weeks trying to write this blog… rather trying to get to essence this blog, to the ideology of this blog because, it is what my journey is or should be about.

18 Sept 2014

I’d been having Rilke moments these past few weeks… perhaps dead brain symptoms or dead cells. I read an incident once, that this great German poet went to one of his dear artist friends lamenting that he simply could not write “these days”. That artist, undoubtedly Rodin, instructed Rilke to just “write… wake up and write anything but, write” … clearly implying that the creative inspiration will return. I try to follow this wisdom in my work, as I believe it to be true. Still it is difficult to muster the energy at times. Albeit, unfortunately time does not procrastinate.

Cousin Danny gave me a book, that he has read three times, “WHY US?… HOW SCIENCE REDISCOVERED THE MYSTERY OF OURSELVES“ Well let me see. When someone comes up with an answer, I am immediately suspicious… of religious fanaticism. Lets see how far I get into this book by: James Le Fanu. What I like about scientific investigation is that it does not proclaim to know and offers no dogma. So here is Fanu, telling us that he has the answer but, seemingly using science to prove his point. Does this not sound like fanaticism. Cousin Danny says “not so”. And I respect Danny, his ethics, his commitment to nature and his life’s passion for minimal foot print upon the fragile blanket of mother earth.

Danny also gave me a CD package on Kurt Vonnegut… ARMAGEDDON IN RETROSPECT… an intriguing, humorous title. I imagine Kurt sitting on top of the rubble, with a smile on his face as he writes his story about what just happened. Well the thought of Vonnegut does spark the cellular synaptic pathways into action to wonder where human life, hence all life on the planet will tumble… to the point where “no waste” common supplement use, out of necessity because of toxic mother earth, will have by natural evolution, eliminated, made redundant the asshole, by way of the appendix or the tail. That would be an urban coup… no more necessity for expensive shitty sewage systems.


Let me lighten the load here a bit and return to the toy truck, sitting in the parking lot of the TIC NS, my home province, having just returned from over two months on the road. “No” I will say, “I am not home and yes, I did cut my hair… rather it melted off in the South Florida sun”. If fact, Nova Scotia does not feel like a place I want to call home. True, I was born here and my dead mother has already, before she died, bought me a plot in the plot beside her and my father. I might actually let that happen, just for ancestral record reasons. Buried in a burlap sack, not cremated, until I at least
investigate the energy of the most inexpensive system of burial. How much does it cost to incinerate a body any way. I think I would like it if they just lay my body on the surface and have one of pile drivers just punch me down. Better still, just drop me in the forest and let the animals feed on me, as I did on them throughout my life time. That seems fair. The ancestral historians could simply digitally GPS my last known location.

So arriving back in NS brought no sense of jubilation… just returned to validate a bunch of documentations and make a few more bucks to get me outta here again and back into South Florida, to make Star of my ex-Georgian/Russian wife, with her shitty pissing dogs.

When I pulled into the tourist information centre, I passed by that military looking iron monster of a truck, looking very alien and applied with foreign language text. Sitting at the front of it on the sidewalk was a guy in a pony tail, ragged blue jeans. He waved at me… an invitation? I waved back, to be courteous.

After picking up a tourist map (which is my habit at every stop.. souvenirs), I drove back to that truck… out of curiosity. He introduced himself as Mario, which I forgot immediately. So I always repeat my name two or three time, in case they are as forgetful as I. His beautiful lady approached. “Ramona”, she said, which I forget immediately. There really is just too much information to gather on first meetings. Are they friendly, behind those laughing greetings and hand shakes. His beard is greying. Her smile is soft and accommodating. He has blue jeans with worn out knees. She looks thin and fragile. He is strong, firm handshake. A foreign sounding speaking voice. Does he/she understand my English.

“Sorry, I forgot your name”. “Ramona” she said. I forget again, as I watched him… “Journalist” he said. I must have asked. “Travelling, taking pictures, making videos giving talks when we return home to Germany… I talk, she takes the pictures”. Ramona chuckled, in a proud way for his declaration, signifying they are a team. She embraced him lovingly.

“May I take your picture in front of your vehicle”. They were very accommodating. She embraced him very warmly and he pulled her tightly into his side

 


I began to like them immediately. They had very generous natures, as well as curious about my modest little cargo van. I gave them a little tour, with some details on my journey around America. They invited me into their tank.

Sleek precise European design. I loved it and have to admit some level of jealously… travelling the world in a magnificent muscle machine with a beautiful lady by his side… every man’s dream. But, their mission was not far removed from mine… investigating life…contemplating the apparent conflicting ideologies between Socialism and Capitalism. It was exhilarating but too short. We may connect again across sea and worlds apart. We embraced warmly as buddies. Mario showed me the “wheel house” on my way out, about seven feet above ground.(www.mario-goldstein.de)  

Ramona and Mario brightened up my return to NS, such a serendipitous and unexpected meeting that offers friendship on the side of the world.

Strange… leaving USA was like leaving home after having met so many unique and generous cousins from Albuquerque to Boston, the last being Father Philip Davignon, Catholic priest, first cousin, I met fleetingly long ago at a younger age. He had many question about his Canadian family. Unfortunately, he did not have much new info about our dear Grandmother, Nellie. He is a definitive God fearing man, here with his dog Hogie

In his community of Christians, including most of his close cousins, not the least of which are my own siblings, I hesitated telling him I do not believe in the ideology of aChristian God. However, I felt the ethical obligation to inform him of my philosophical position. He was gentle and un-judging yet, I felt his imperative, though subtle duty to convince me that there is a God. It would be a comfortable to live in a world of, what I see a denial of reality, where humans have “dominion over all the land and animals”, where homosexuality is denied, where abortion is a sin.

　

Catholicism: “We hold these truths (The Declaration Of Independence) to be self-evident- that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

Is a homosexual not equal and not permitted life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness without being called abnormal by Catholic dogma. Is he better than a dog. And are women more than just a little bit better chattel. And Catholic positions on abortion are well documented and should be reminded of their judgement… “Judge not least ye be judged”… “Cast first the stone from your own eye”. And is masturbation not a sin?… “should not spill the seed upon the ground!” Where does life begin in the eyes of Christianity?

Father Phil… I love you!

And, I know you can imagine, my mind searches inside the great mysteries of my life in side my billions of cells and my genetic inheritance. I cannot accept that the answerable finality of Christianity is anything beyond hearsay. As ten people who see a car accident… there are ten differing accounts as is all we really have on the “Life of Christ”. Those observers could not even tell the colour of the car in that accident.

 

Science cannot say there is no God nor say that they have the answer. Any answer to that big question, is in my mind, one or another or is this case, many/multiple cases of spiritual fanaticism. Let me see what Le Fanu has to say about DNA in his book: WHY US?

See you later .

Selamat tinggal   

Slept In My Cowboy Boots and Danced With Nellie

Slept in my Cowboy boots and danced with Nellie  24 Sept 2014

　

True… both facts. Never slept in my boots before but, wow. How soon one forgets about the cold of the north when spending time in the sweltering humid heat of the south.. Last night was chilly here on the outskirts of Boston. And I love my Texas boots, that I bought in Nova Scotia so I figured, why not… jumped into the sleeping bag boots and all… feet warm all night…yay!!! You know.. When your wake up groggy at 6:30 in a cold van and ya just gotta get to the pissing pot, across the long expanse of the cold asphalt parking lot.. Good to have yer boots ready to rock! And the mission to “Dig Up Nellie” made a bountiful leap yesterday.

Cousin Cathy and I made it to her grave site….another part of the mystery revealed. We had a great visit with Nellie… a chuckle, a laugh and an embrace with our dear grandmother… hard to think of a woman who died at 38 as being one’s grandmother as, she feels more like a very dear friend, one to party with, dance, laugh, have a drink or two with. But, she was buried in the cold earth without a headstone, no marker… nothing to say she was here on earth… such an indignity in my mind. Fortunately she has living family who still care for her. Of course, I projected that Nellie was so happy that we came to visit her.

Following our visit we went in search of her home, here in Meriden, Conn. and to our great surprise… it was still there, with a few little gaudy alterations: closed in veranda, shitty vinyl siding and a cheap plastic fence. Across the road where her husband Raymond operated one of his successful garages, now stands a school.

 

Cathy and I stood on the steps where Nellie and her Husband stood. Cathy apologizes for not wearing a fancy hat like Nellie

　

　

Going back to 1896... Digging up Nellie. It is interesting to see the difference in Nellie circa 1920, perhaps right after her six kids were born, one after another, through her teens and early 20‘s… Her first child at 14 years old… living in Malay Falls

An then to see her in Meriden Connecticut in her late 20’s, her (second) wedding day, 13 January 1927.

 It is hard to believe this is the same woman. But, there is sufficient documentation to prove that the Meriden Nellie is real. The Malay Falls Nellie… not a lot of documentation but, there is one striking fact. One of her sons, Charles Seymour born 1916 , is a spiting image of her. Perhaps in the Malay Falls photo Nellie is much younger than I am assuming and was a gangly youth. There does actually seem to be some joy in her face.

Life was hard in Nova Scotia, as you may assume in that picture. Nellie probably caught that salmon perhaps out of necessity, for supper. The rivers were full, with plenty of fish in the 20’s. And I believe |Nellie was a survivor. But, living off the land in Connecticut did not seem a necessity. She married a lovely humorous man, who seemed to dearly care for her. Perhaps her cheeks rounded out, as she became a lady of some leisure.

It gives me some peace to assume that dear Grandma had some joy in her life. A new letter just discovered from her sister-in-law Gertrude says that they both had visited the Malay residence in Sheet Harbour in 1933 with her young daughter Iris (of her second marriage). But the letter does not imply that Nellie had contacted her boys from her first marriage… which, one would assume was her reason to return… such hard poignancy.

Today, I am off to meet with Father Philip, another, and the first, I believe of Nellie’s grandchildren. I believe he has a story to tell for greater insight into the passion of Nellie and maybe fitting for a line or two in the “Nellie’s Blues” song I will write.

I’ll be right back

Selamat tinggal

Socialism's Rap Against Capitalism

I was there...

 

 

New York in my van. busy Broadway street. running down from Columbus Circle. raining outside. raining outside

buses cars splashing by twelve inches from the side of my van. people chatting by a couple on the other side. Johnny the Egyptian's neon food wagon lights flashing relentlessly purple orange blue pink overlapping creating new colors. it is all so shockingly dramatically peaceful. am totally relaxed embraced into the fetal position. this ambiance of the night police my carriage habit. Nothing to fear in this alien place filled with multiples of familiarity.

Cars three and four lanes deep. between wall of old architecture. slipping by  between around each other like strings of spaghetti and miraculously causing no damage to each other while offering courtesy to one another with few horns no rage in all of the cramped juxtapositions of metal rubber pedestrians horns and trunk doors honking and slamming emergency vehicles horning their way through impossible pathways as ploughs furrowing new earth.

I arrived in this iconic city and onto iconic Broadway even unbelievably with a place to park right on that street beside Johnny The Egyptian, who guided my van into and impossible space big enough for what I thought was not big enough for a smart car... "you can do it" he assured me... and I did... 30 hours there and no ticket.

I was afraid to drive into that city with all of its bad reputation and all that traffic. It would have been easy to stay on 81 north, bypass that awful place. Instead I went in on 78 into the thick of it. I had to. It was a matter of life and death... "do or die" "Go big or stay home" At 71yrs... going home seems the obvious choice but, no... had to do... you understand I am sure. So into the Holland Tunnel I plunge and WOW what a sight...

 

That gave me a sense of peace and conviction that I made the right decision, even as I slipped through the spaghetti street of cars I knew it was right. Drivers were kind, gave me way with ease. I love New York. The people are kind and diverse and exhilarating.

 

But why did I come to this March. I never do that. The hype always offends me trouble me. Well it was Iconic New York. There was the challenge just physically going there. I was invited by Elizabeth May. Green Party of Canada... reasons enough I guess. I volunteered for traffic assignments. met some fabulous people and a radio station that may play my art stuff, even with my "fucking" language. I will follow this up. But, philosophically why did I come. I carried no banners. could not bring myself to do that. I marched with the 300,000 and wondered why I was not convinced.

 

I saw it as intellectual hypocrisy. a religious chant. socialism's rant against capitalism. I felt a bit of a traitor. a wasted body of energy against Capitalism. It is not the way to defeat the environmental destructive forces. Capitalism is a natural force of nature. Would have been better to look into a mirror at out own innate capitalism and know it id not the corporate capitalist who are destroying the earth... it is you and me. If we do not buy the product of the corporation.. Corporate Collective Capitalism will die. Hunger will die. The trees will live. Slavery will die. Let rid us of hypocrisy     

The Scales Of Justice

 

 



 

There is no morality in law

So the body of society is infested with gnashing maggots

 

The noted woman went to court for her justice today

but it was just a play

With lines from the judge who has no say

Except utters from the Book as a parrot to get her pay

As the body continues to rot away

 

The notorious Casanova smiled from his paper box

Cause he runs as a clever fox

and snickers hehehe at the dogs and Bull's cocks

A rap on his fingers and a year in the locks

A little rest and a clean pair of socks

and onto to more women to get off his rocks

 

The maggot in bed with the maggots

Festering festering festering

As the commonwealth rots away

 

 

 

I took her to lunch after court to try to get her outside the mess... to use her great talent for collective surgery on the woes of society. But she could not embrace it... not yet... too early to put the Casanova behind her... a little more time will do.

 

A lovely young lady named Kimmy was passing and wanted to take our picture

 

 

 

 

 

I'll be right back                                                                                                                Selamat tingall

 

 

 

 

 

 





It's a dog's life

 

 

I feel I just arrived from outer space

 

 

 

These pure breed miniature creatures kind of look like dogs...Chihuahua and Doberman Pinscher  yes, that is me in that space suit, my metaphoric journey of life. I arrived here in Pompano Beach over a week ago and feel like I have been in a pig barrel since then. The temperature is boiling and I am sweating like a pig. It is definitely another world here. My brain is fried... what is happening out there on earth. Are we still concerned about climate change and corporate maggots

 

My only functions these past 11 days has been feeding, walking, petting and playing with these two alien looking rats and watching the US Mail trucks coming and going across the street. Don't know why I should find that fascinating... those little golf carts, with drivers in the opposite seats.... from Pony Express, to get a small bag of mail across the country at horse killer speed, to Tractor trailers loaded with letters and parcels, dumped into thousands of little carts, like ants, speeding out around the streets...

 

Analysing the intriguing history of US Mail and baby sitting rats dogs was not my reason for coming to Florida... NO!

 

My reason was to visit my friend and ex-Georgian wife, from across the sea, who I sleuth fully got out of Russia in 2003. She divorced me a year later, went to the USA and talked herself into American Citizenship... not without some heartache and the painful realization that the "American Dream", which she dreamed about from childhood was nothing but a Hollywood fantasy and it came crashing down on her a few months ago. You can check out her story on Google: "Bad Romance: Criminal Casanova arrested" Channel 7 TV News Broward county Florida. But it wasn't a total loss... she has become somewhat of a Celebrity around this town. She put the bastard in jail and she now has a story worth a Hollywood movie. She is extremely intelligent and very funny and has the look of a celebrity. One never forgets her once you cross her path.

 

 

She has a mouth worse than Joan Rivers (RIP). If she got one interview on the Tonight Show with Letterman her celebrity status would rise immediately. Does anyone know Letterman or Howard Stern? You would be Nana Iosava's friend forever.

 

That Casanova will be in front of the Judge on Monday for plea or sentencing. Nana will ready herself, with hair prep and apparel finery... to be there to follow up on her prompting with the States Attorney, to whom she presented a hundred pages of incriminating evidence against that maggot, the States Attorney now calls a "Scum bag". I'll be there in court with her and will blog the outcome. Perhaps we need to start a Nana Iosava fan club.  Let's see where this woman goes.

 

She loves her dogs... "more than people!" but, as charming as they are, they are just little royalty pissers as far as I am concerned... gotta watch where you step around here.

 

Anyway, unfortunately, I gotta get outta here in a about six days, for a while and get back on the trail of "Digging up Nellie"... But...

 

I'll be right back

 

Selamat tingall