Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Friday, March 13, 2009

I Read Good

"the only stocks that are goin up are the gun stocks"
skies dissolve to some sort of coming night and coffeeshop people talk to me casually about violent revolution, the loss of money as a means of worthwhile transaction, war, war and simply more war.
strange days ahead mike says.
stranger than yr favorite doors song, I think.
we soon gonna be lost in the journey of infinite night, jake, michael and i strapped in to the end of it, till FEMA interns last bleeding-gummed dregs of our dangerously highly evolved levels of consciousness.
they talk stranger than NEWSPEAK
they speak news speak
communication bits come in thought reined soundbites
we exchange desperate notebook fragment true-fictions each day
one part rag, one part bottle, one part gasoline
lest these things be erased from memory we have them tattooed on us just in case.

good sirs and madams, we only ask for danger in the same way dylan thomas asked for fame or pussy or heads of state ask for bullets:
everyone is starting to have their own special private version of the end of the universe,
they are asking my advice,
I don't know, I say, all I know how to do is apply spray-paint to walls real good,
I am no master of the apocalypse,
I get fired from minimum wage jobs
and have only some special knowledge of how to project my voice at powerful levels
and can dig with some ease through schnuck's garbage heaps for sustenance,
how to comfort screaming 3-year-olds
and how to read entire Joyce novels in one day.
But if you have to know,
learn how to shoplift
reinstate tribal living,
shift consciousness levels like a manual transmission,
keep friends close and enemies far away as fucking possible
and get out of the city.
meanwhile there is nothing jungle about this concrete
except that us animals will still prowl the night occasionally searching for a more dangerous fix, a more complex manifesto than blinding unsustainable suns of carlights
and a crack for the cipher of whole languages of penstrokes on the quickly decaying underside of civilization.
in that i case i might yet come in some handy;
i still read good.