Selling Karma at the Latenight Mass (zabrynskie point)
It was late…I couldn't sleep & the chemical surge within me was being unrelentingly stubborn. Normally, I post on the CL-Politics section, but the constant exchange of bitter social diatribes has pushed me to feeling flustered. In any event, I’ve realized that my fiscal-liberal tendencies have constructed a moral dilemma in contrast towards my socially-conservative sensibilities. So I decided to go back to my Kerouacian roots & compose streams of transitional prose to dissuade the affections of desperate females acting upon their genetic impulses to pursue the transferring of their alleles into the next sub-generation. It doesn’t matter. At this point, none of you can firmly understand the bleating word phrasings inspired by the rage & discontent of Coltrane-like hysteria; The idea of seeking affluent males with trimmed pubic areas & porno-induced passions, as they portray the image of dominant alpha-males in a decadent society, only proves your failure to see the hopelessness in modern societal living – "Let the chips fall where they may" is my credo!! Eventually, the hunter-gather instincts that you find so unnecessary will be prominent when the select few are out & about stalking elk & rabbit, while the drogues & sub-humans are rummaging through garbage dumps for sustenance, sipping on non-toxic piss water & begging for God to end their suffering in the quickest way possible.
Ol’ Mr. Gone…He certainly still has bearing upon my psyche. The alleged hero disguised as predator (whose purpose is to reveal balance & self-worth in terms of unwanted truth) will always be hated in the hearts of confused fem-martyrs wishing to find hope in the majestic male arriving just in time to rescue their disenchanted hearts. "DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE…DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE"…is the phrase which will always be at the core of all my musings, while the world spirals on down in an unrepentant fashion. Damn it…I’m being vindictive & judgmental again. I gotta find that place where insight & purpose outweigh the need for shotguns & ongoing pessimism…"DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE…DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE…" So what else am I to say to you, as you look dreamily towards a future slighted by economical collapse & media-influenced mind control? The morning approaches – will this day be one of ongoing penance? I certainly hope not. I’ve vowed to reject the current social mores in attempt to find freedom in the onslaught of chaos. No…I won’t engage in the activities of vagabonds & looters, considering that plasma TV’s will have no place in the world of abandoned cars, boarded up storefronts, empty hotels & filth-ridden streets. Hopefully, the militias will be somewhat civil so I won’t have to bust a cap in their punk-asses. Why should we continue on anyway? I fear that if I do contribute to producing offspring that my children would be subject to being preyed upon by cannibalistic hordes that bleed with desperation & angst. Maybe I’m not as creative as I had previously thought myself to be, or maybe I really don’t wish to convey my feelings to be displayed & ignored by random masses. Is this therapeutic or egocentric? Listening to Coltrane’s “Afro Blue” gave me direction, but Coltrane’s not available now, & all I can hear is the whirring of the oscillating fan in the next room. I’m outta cigarettes, I’m consumed with fear, guilt & self-loathing, as I worry that this is another stage of my continual demise. I use to be hopeful & appreciative of the simple things – all I do now is curse & place blame on society for my own shortcomings. "Where’s my soap box…Where’s my goddamn SOAPBOX?!!?" Now I can think…& plan…There’s something coming around the corner but I don’t know exactly what. There has been some affirmation in relation to the gloom I feel – the spreading darkness is blanketing us as we speak. But I can’t talk like that now…I gotta trust my survivalist instincts – make a run for it if you can, I say. Good ol’ Coltrane…he helped me once again to find my spiritual side. I feel as if I’ve been granted a second chance, aesthetically speaking, of course. Maybe one day we’ll meet up again & catch up in the middle…"DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE…DAMN THE ELECTRIC FENCE!!!"
"I LIKE MYSELF…I LIKE MYSELF…I LIKE MYSELF…I LIKE MYSELF…I LIKE MYSELF…I LIKE MYSELF…I LIKE MYSELF...I LIKE MYSELF...I LIKE MYSELF"...I say, as I watch the neo-hookers on broadway prance around in virtual solicitation, while one outta every three of 'em smuggles a bag of coke up her ass (Coltrane's back)...The frenzy continues, continues, continues...I'm feeling the full essence of beatitude - Will they understand?? So the ongoing diatribe in Burrough-Ginsbergesque beat-phrasing takes shape & form...I howl, scream, bleat...find rhythm in the rage of middle-class afro-american madness (don't let the referance to beebop fool you - hip-hop is dead!!!)Yeah, brother...."GO!" "GO!" "GO!" Of course, they won't understand - Where I currently stand is a Mecca of commercialism, strip malls & chain restaraunts. But not for me, I patronize the greek cafes, the bleak retrospect of coffee shops & the miscellaneous burrito stands that sell carne asadas for $3.00 - That's living, if you ask me. It's safe to say that without Parker, Davis, Coltrane & Monk - the bleating becomes shit; You know...Ongoing psychological egoism that serves it's own interests. Biologically speaking, we still have remnants of altruistic DNA sequences, but not enough to make a differance is this plague-riddened world. As far as the mad-cats who snap their fingers in time with misplaced prose - I'm the last one left. Either that or I'm petitioning the wrong consensus. You see...to understand Coltrane, you gotta compare him to Charlie Parker, Cannonball Adderley & Sonny Rollins - (the frenzy makes sense & will only suffice once the comparison is made) From there on your free to chant whatever you like. But will the fems like it?? I've asked that question for years now - I don't really think so. They're not as prolific, if you ask me.
Should I post this? I don't see why the hell not. Of course they won't read it - this disavows the need to procreate in media-broadcast fashion. The point wasn't to charm or get their bearded clams wet. It was meant to challenge & bring about release...(I think).
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- Location: zabrynskie point
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
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