shit blue and sorry white

[whorella mundane]

the running blues ... who ever thinks "when i get old, i'll be crying
the sittin' blues"

i mean if only! if only you could sit around watching tv like your
stupid parents. but it was so weak. and they'd be drinking highballs
and laughing and trading inside jokes. we were young. we knew they
couldn't possibly be having a good time. not like we knew it to be.

yes a good time was meeting up with a few friends, my sister was
always there, and freezing our asses while we try to think of
something to do. well no. we knew what we wanted to do. get high.

who had anything? and there we were with no cell phones or cars so
we'd walk around. have to actually knock on doors to see if someone
was home.

and we'd usually resort to raiding a brother's stash ... he'd never
notice! and of course, after awhile, he would. and you'd deny it but
he'd still smack you around. you both knew he couldn't tell on me or
we'd both be in trouble.

not like when the kids steal your xanax. you don't just get to hit
them. and it's not like getting slapped around would deter you from
your goal in life. suffer through high school -

we did have smoking areas, though. teen-agers had rights then!
and of course you could smoke joints there ... the teachers would
stand out there smoking, too, and keep an eye out. but mainly they
just wanted to get back to their classes and home again. never saw
anyone get popped for that.

see ... if you grow up in the same place with the same family and all,
the cops have known you since you were a kid. and we all know kids are
innocent and cute. so they have that memory of you.

then they see you goof off as a teenager but you're just sowing wild
oats - you're still a good kid. 'cause they remember you as a kid. and
they all like kids with spunk. you gotta have it! so you can ride your
bike on the grass to show off and they'll kinda smile and tell you to
stop. and you do.

if they know your parents, and where you live, the cops are more
likely to take you home than jail. and they are not going to see 'one
of their own' go down, you know? you better hope your parents are
respected and liked by the local police.

but then your parents throw you out 'cause they're sick of you
stealing their xanax and money and cars, or you move out 'cause you're
sick of hearing their bitching about how you borrowed their xanax,
money and cars since you were gonna return them all but they never
gave you a chance ... and how they shouldn't be doing xanax and they
only have money because they get to deduct you on their taxes so they
should be lending you their car 'cause they won't get you one of your
own.

and you're in some new part of town - a low rent part of town and have
to have a job or some way to pay the rent and when you come home from
work, you don't have to go out to get high. instead, people start just
showing up with cases of beers and it's so cool at first but you do
have to get up for work and people are still there and you come home
one day and your stereo's gone. even worse, they stole your records.

to me ... someone who stole records was the lowest form of life.
like ... steal everything else but a record was 20 bucks - for minimum
wage - that was about a day and a half's work - and to steal armfuls
of them ... if you were lucky they stole shitty albums like the
rolling stone's 'some girls'

-----

back from another rehab only this time, i could not sit quietly. the
dame leading our family session was basically saying that the cost of
health care and all of our taxes are going to the damn drug addicts.
and that it's not a disease, it's a choice. so if these drug addicts
choose to do drugs, and we're paid to get them to stop and THEY fail,
fuck 'em. let 'em die. DON'T WANNA BE TOO SOFT ON ANYONE

and so you have tom waits and he's on austin city limits only it's
1978 and he's singing ... and you know he knows what it is to be down.
and he can disappear inside of it and bring back a smile that seers
your eyes till they form tears and then he makes you laugh like he
laughs in that "ain't it funny how life fucks with you so
specifically?" he laughs in that ironic way ... that's irony. the
universe fucking with you specifically. personally.

and i've been giving god shit lately 'cause what's he gonna do about
it, HUH? drop a load of cancer in my bowels? kill my kids in a car
accident?

people die everyday, right? i heard a lot of that after cindy was
taken from me. people die every day. every fucking day. and you're
gonna die, too, so cheer up!

where's the song to take the sting out of death? where's the song to
stop a man from hitting his wife? where's the song to end all sorrow?

and does it dance?

"the dance" ... if you want to ruin an artform, put a "the" in front
of it. "the theater" ... "the" dance ... and losers like me ... we
dance ridiculous. fat. clumsy. and the youngsters look at us like
we're pathetic. trying to dance. like only the sexy people get to
dance. who do we think we are? oh admit it ... you have dancer friends
and say shit like "i'm using my body to communicate instead of speak-
singing" but you know your stories were fucking excellent. to go off
like you did. that's what they were coming to see. you going off on
some rant. the psychadelic rambling of rich kids ... i love that song,
by the way. it speaks directly to the hips.

yeah so there's no water in the house and i was so pissed at lolo's
rehab 'cause they're not fucking helping her. you can't scare that kid
straight. and when you are taking away their drugs, their buzz, the
one thing they'd look forward to, you gotta give them more than the
promise that they will have to attend 12 step meeting for the rest of
their lives or they'll die. no more beer on the fourth of july - and
those of us that can drink tell them "oh who needs beer?" even though
we drink it. but not 'cause we NEED to. sure sucks to be them!

and this lady at the rehab was saying how the drugs could make you an
epilectic - even if you've been clean for years, you could end up with
dementia at age 25. or 30. how the drugs destroy your body and brain
and no matter what you do about it from now on, you are fucked. so you
need to get clean now because ...

well you're fucked anyone but you need to get clean now or it could be
worse! this is what she's teaching these kids. lolo was in tears by
the end of this talk. and then my mom was crying and this thinking,
"maybe it was the drugs that killed my sister" and me wanting to go
fucking crazy and scream THE DRUGS ARE NOT THE PROBLEM. they are a
SYMPTOM of a much larger problem called the broken soul in a world
full of bulldozers.

if you drink ... if you smoke a dang joint - well according to this
dame, i should be in a wheel chair with a load of shit in my drawers.
and we all know the addicts who live to get really old - burroughs ...
even bukowski did pretty good. christopher hitchens died on 12/15 ...
kinda bummed me out but he was an arrogant dick who went on and on
about foreign policy but thought war was laughable - another vehicle
for his brilliant give-a-damn wit.

at age 60 he started taking care of himself. he had started working
out. quit smoking. a year later - the cancer. ironic, eh?

okay but for right now ... i am taking the dog to the river. it's
pretty warm out and there's a huge moon and it's so very beautiful
down there.

rivers ran red down the legs of the city

had to correct the previous usage of that phrase ... my favorite
door's song: peace frog

i'm so ... my heart is so heavy but i am so pissed ... this woman made
lolo so sad talking about all the destruction of the drugs. as if this
shit only happens to people who 'choice' to do shit that makes it
happen. and yet there she is to help them ... i don't know ...