Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Wondering where the other sock is.

Greetings from the Hill.
62/70 Cloudy NE15/20 0712/1759 75%H

Grey skies and cooler, hardly very inspiring,
the past week reading doom and gloom
every day and hearing it each night,
"It's giving the oldman such a fright,"
grumbles the madone in pants and socks.

"It's all bullshit, always has been,"
spitting out the open window,
the neighbour sweeping his roof,
the poinciana leaves had fallen,
winter arrived with bare limbs.

"Getting too smart and too bloody old,"
the oldman was losing humor and hope
and had smoked up the dope.

"The fucking gangsters sell it and short it,
individually wrapped or truckload lots,
all those 'it's', all those commissions,
lose or win you pay, 'The Vulture Funds'
and the million realestate whores,"
flicking a butt in the garden.

"Hey, oldman, you shouldn't read all that crap,
it was forty years ago when you joined
the boys on Bay Street, they are all dead,
maybe you could tell some tales,
hofuckingho....and what was the DOW,"
the madone joined the cats on the balcony.

The world was getting funny and shaking hands,
enemies making deals and freinds decoupling,
russian gas for an indian car in China...
french electricity for modular housing in Iran,
american war materiel for arabs and jews.

There must be an analogy somewhere
a metaphor for the derangement
a phrase for the madness
a quote from the bible
..."I told you so."

The addiction to gambling and the absurdity
that mental choice transcends physical labor,
the short term attention dwellers
living in the cellars
of their minds
while renting out their eyes
and ears
to the advertising man.
The one eyed monster
barking bargains
in pixel land...
where all is invented.

"Hey, honey...
I've got a great idea...
we can mortgage the house
and buy a SIV," watching Kramer.

"But dear, we just bought a SUV."

"Ho ho, silly... and just plain vanilla,"
a coservative republican.

"Hummm, are there any strawberry sivs
with a long straw,"
wondered the other half
of the consumer market.

"And honey, take the garbage out
on the way to the store."

The way we live is
the way we think we live...
a fucking commercial,
buy the product and become the creature
in the ad, a beautiful skinny model,
rather than dumpy fatfucks
always waddling to the bathroom.

"Norman...the bankerbrokerrealestate man
is calling again," the inlaws down the block.

"Whats happening my man, todays the day,"
the executive turned huckster,
"Big shorts on RMCDO's on the OTC
and fat puts on the Korean derivative market,"
offered the opportunity for advancement
in the global connection.

"Norman...please don't mortgage the cottage,
and take the garbage out on the way to the store,"
sweeping the floors and feeding the bird,
watering the dog and cutting a log
for the chilly afternoon
far from paradise.

Where the sun shone through the window,
a slight breeze in the keys,
at the top of the florida horn
above the tropic of cancer.

Time for a walk to Faustos

catfood and dovefood
and foolfuel.

Sell your car and buy canned goods.

Yo yo mas.

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