|Ramblings from Oregon|
One day I’d like to be an alarmist. I mean it must be kind of cool to not be crazy enough to be locked up but crazy enough to think bad shit is about to happen to you and your kind, magically, and if you get to the root of it because you are unprepared. For one thing bad shit is always about to happen, but it’s not magically or personal, it’s just how things go. I’m not, or I wasn’t, much of a planner, but I can’t remember ever not recognizing trouble, from the kind down the street you can side step, to the kind that starts with a “No, fuck you” to the yearlong five seconds you have when you know you’re going to crash and you have to use a good one to four of those deciding and implementing a course to lessen the impact, or bracing yourself.
I’d like to run around all crazy and warning people that this shit is likely to happen any minute to them. I mean, I know, I think the most common fantasy behind the sexual ones and the winning the lottery ones are a tie between revenge and being crazy, but wholesale, batshit, off your nut nuts, because that’s like “I’m sorry I was drunk” without the I’m sorry or the hangover. The explanation to kids of all ages of the right to free speech is that it does NOT include the right to yell fire in a crowded theatre. Crazy people can yell fire in a crowded theatre. Crazy people can get naked and jump in public fountains. Crazy people can insist that the leather coat and alligator shoes come with a side of fries and coleslaw. Granted, sometimes there’s a big to do, and a bunch of official people in different uniforms come and publically patronize you and take you to an in-patient facility, but honestly, if you aren’t a threat to self or others and you have no health insurance, you won’t be there very long and they do feed you and provide other crazies to play with.
Unlike your sexual fantasies and revenge fantasies, you sort of want the crazy fantasy to come true, I mean in real life you don’t want to drag your boss by the bumper of a hummer with a live hornets’ nest belted in his pants, and you really don’t want to be tied upside down by three members of the opposite sex, savaged for hours, but politely (for some reason) and you’ve found the sexual fantasies you did pursue were not as cool in real life as they seemed in your head. But crazy, abdicating all social convention and absolution based on your condition; that’s just got to rock. And roll. Bring the funk and taste like jazz.
Ok, I’ll wait for you to argue about your sexual fantasies and then decide if I was so wrong about that then my revenge example is pretty lame too. I’d challenge OD to leaving sexual fantasies in the notes, but I’m thinking that won’t happen and perhaps it’s for the best. That’s a path you can’t unwalk. Not saying you’re all deviants and should be ashamed, just saying I will tease you from time to time with, out of the blue and out of any context but your fantasy “I’ll bring the bowling ball, you get the KY and batteries, I think I have an old leather coat we can cut into costumes. Rent me some shoes baby.”
I probably won’t, but it’s moot, no one is going to play that game. Revenge fantasies maybe. Crazy fantasy’s I’m pretty sure could be worked into a whole month of entries MarmoNutsJo or something, batshit journaling. Bi-polar blogging. As y’all well know some folks are already do this, they just don’t know they are. That’s where crazy turns into sexual fantasy, what’s the use of being crazy if you don’t it, like what’s the use of being in a threesome with two lesbians if they aren’t interested in fucking you? Or what’s the use of taking revenge on someone who’s a masochist?
One of my favorite cigars is the corojo Camacho Churchill. My new favorite light reading is Janet Evanovich. I’d been dodging her name for years because it looked too best seller and marketed as such. In the last two days I started one of her novels and watched the movie made from the character; One for the Money. She’s like a cross between Erma Bombeck and Elmore Leonard, a happy cross, it’s fun. I imagine it will get tiresome if I go on a binge, but it’s a lot more fun than it looked on clearance racks and top ten racks. If I was overflowing with fantasy; I’d like to fuck Dan Browns wife in the butt while smoking a cigar and reading Janet Evanovich in Dan Browns Driveway while doctors strap him into one of those eyelid open machines from Clockwork Orange and I’m singing amazing Grace while Dan Browns wife plays the bag pipes in between moaning “Oh Baby, deeper, harder --- we’ve no fewer days to sing his praise than the hour we first begun”. Again, the crazy part seems most doable.
Outside of the normal occurrence of the events I haven’t heard much crazy regarding the rash of tornados. I’m sure there are folks hollering about God’s wrath and folks hollering about global warming either pro or anti and some folks hollering to get on TV. I have seen the picture of that one guy with his dog attached to headlines on yahoo, but haven’t read the stories. Tornados don’t really scare me, and destruction by weather is the most benign sort of destruction, I mean it doesn’t target you because of your nationality or uniform the way a war does, or because you have money the way a thief does. The you part of natural disaster is a coincidence. Though, you could, I suppose, move out of a place that has two tornado seasons a year. I mean I grew up in one of those places, some of my only memories of earlier school grades was sitting in the basement with the teachers and classmates and singing kumbaya with the lights out and the weather raging outside and above. If you’re afraid of dogs, stay out of the kennel. I know, it’s damn near saying let them eat cake, except there really isn’t anything you can do to stop a tornado. So live with it or move are really the only options. I understand Baghdad doesn’t get many tornados. It is a bit like freedom of speech, although the government will allow it, you can still get beat up for playing to the wrong audience. Either take your beating or shut the hell up or preach to the choir.
Ok, all over the place again. Leave your fantasies, heh, and I’ll smoke a cigar, and we’ll see what goes down or comes up. And I expect to be spent.