"Everything is Everything."

It's such a beautiful day today - sunny and warm (low 60s). This is definitely the nicest day we've had all winter. I opened the windows, cleaned the house, washed a sinkful of dishes, vacuumed and did some laundry. It's amazing how a little good weather can change your mood. Well, that and some great music. Lauryn Hill provided my house cleaning jam.
It's hard to believe it's been almost 13 years since this dropped. Where is Lauren? What's she doing?
"The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" won 5 Grammys, including Best Album and Best New Artist. It's one of the most soulful records to come out of Hip Hop/RnB in the past 20 years.
Obviously, not just my opinion.

 

Oh, who will buy my 1976 Scamp?

I'm trying to sell my Plymouth Scamp. It would be a great project car for some Mopar guy. There are some rust spots, but over-all, the body is pretty solid. No dents, no bondo.
I have had quite a few people express interest. One guy came by last night, with his teenage daughter. She wants to restore an old car. If it had been up to her, I would have sold it. She loved it. The dad (who will be doing the work on it) said he had to think about it.
I really need some fast cash. Somebody, please make me an offer!

 

Raised at a fertilizer plant.

I've mentioned before that I practically grew up in a fertilizer plant. Here's some further evidence.
The first picture is me at the plant. Once, a train conductor let me ride in the engine, from one end of the plant to the other. He even let me blow the whistle (a very big deal to a little boy).
The second picture is of me, at home. On the back of that picture, my mom explains that I was wearing my dad's home made baby clothes, from 1921! I still have those clothes.
Now, if I can draw your attention to the paper that second photo was glued to. It contains the analysis for 8-8-8 fertilizer.
I'm telling you, it's in my blood. (I'm not sure what that says about me...)

 

 

 

"...Everybody had to pay and pay..."

I didn't do much today. I haven't been feeling well. I fixed something to eat, got my mail (my W2s came), went to the store for a newspaper and cleaned out the dog crate - putting in new bedding. That's about it.
I haven't seen my cat in days. I guess (hope) he's just "tom catting."
I just finished Camus' "The Stranger." The paperback was rife with annoying penciled in notes, courtesy of some student, apparently. Whenever I see notes scribbled in a book, I always feel as if that person didn't really want to read the book, that it was read as an assignment. And I especially hate it when there's a sentence or paragraph labeled "foreshadowing." It's just irksome. Now, I'm reading "My Century," the Nobel award winning book by the great Gunter Grass. I wish I could type umlauts. He has umlauts in his name.
I filled out a government form, online, and had to print it up to mail it. It was 10 pages long! Why I had to print it and mail it I can't understand. I thought I was going to deplete the ink in my copier.
I'm going to be broke, broke, broke for at least 2 months. I've worked it out the best I can, but it's not going to be pretty. For instance, after I pay my final notice electric bill, I'll have $20 left from my unemployment. God, I hope someone buys the car I have for sale.
If I were younger and prettier, I'd hustle my way out of debt (think Little Joe D. in "Flesh"). That's the way to make money!
I'm so sick of winter. I don't know how much more I can take. I guess it would be awfully cold standing on a street corner, down by the river, wearing short shorts and a cut off tee shirt.
"H-h-hey, y-y-you wanna b-b-boyfriend?"

Cindy and me.

Cindy was a friend and co-worker. She was also my girlfriend's best friend. This was taken by my girlfriend, around 1990.
When I think about those days, and those people, it makes me want to cry. If I could, I would go back in a second.

 

Scraps of paper from the Western Steer era (late 80s).

Rough giraffes scream beatnik poetry at midnite
and the corpses grin like Cheshire kitties...

The chartreuse eel laughs out of the side of his mouth
while the shy dog sighs...

Book mark.

I wrote, recently, about how I love to find notes, shopping lists, tickets, etc. It gives you a little peek into a stranger's world. I buy a lot of used books and it's always a thrill to find an unusual book mark that someone left. I've found airline tickets, condom wrappers, newspaper clippings - and this 5x7 photo. Oddly enough, it was in a copy of William Burroughs' "Naked Lunch." I haven't a clue who this is or who snapped the pic - which makes it all the more interesting.

 

Dream.

In a dream, last night, I was having a pleasant conversation with Bea Arthur, on the (non-existent) patio of my home. It was a nice warm evening. The patio was more like something she would have had on "The Golden Girls." In fact, I'm not sure she was Bea Arthur, as much as she was Dorothy Zbnornak. While we chatted, however, I had the nagging thought, in the back of my mind, that I was to have a dinner party in just a matter of minutes and nothing was prepared - and the house was a mess. I excused myself to attend to my duties.
When I reached the kitchen, which was my kitchen, yet much larger and nicer, I began to feel frantic. It was a catastrophe! The oven was open and the interior had been decorated, by my nieces, rather Hedwig-like, with pictures and stickers and bits of ribbon tied to the racks. I attempted to divest it of its embellishments, but was having a rather difficult time with the stickers. My eye wandered over to the sink, to find it full of dirty dishes. This would never do! Cuba Gooding, Jr. was peeling potatoes at my bar, amid open bottles of beer, bags, crumbs, bottle caps, food stuffs and general trash and garbage. Why he had 3 ten pound bags of potatoes open, I don't know. He didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, either. I had to get into gear.
Some of the guests were already arriving (early, of course). I went to my stereo and put on the "54" soundtrack and cranked it up. "If you could read my mind, love, what a tale my thoughts would tell..." A little disco to get me into cleaning mode. I told him, "I'm just going to clean up around you. If there's something you're using, I'll leave it for you." I called my nieces in and told them to clean up the oven, pronto! I began tackling the dishes. I was determined that, even though I was getting off to a rough start, this party was going to happen!

Jarod in Flux.

Life keeps happening. Jarod Reactor is still in the mix.
Reacting.
Life keeps happening. It won't let you stand still. It's a swirling mess, a cacophony of chaos.
Chaos.
Maybe he stacked those bricks up too high - although it really wasn't high, at all. Others have erected taller monuments. Churches. Obelisks. Tombstones. Maybe he had slime for mortar. Maybe he used the workers from the tower of Babel. A babbling crew of sun bleached spectres.
"Pass that trowel, Shem."
"I am but a ghost. I have no form. And I can not understand your tongue."
Chaos.
The sun remained when the rest of the sky fell - but, his construction did not. Brick by brick it collapsed. There arose a cloud of dust that eclipsed the sun, which, while still intact, was rendered impotent (at least for the moment). The rubble from the destruction threatened to bury him. But, it did not bury him. Our Jarod is alive!
Meanwhile, the universe expands and time remains a mystery. Let me repeat that: Time is a mystery.
"Let's make order of this chaos!" That's Jarod's rallying cry.
Life is chaos, Jarod Reactor. Chaos is life.
Nervous and righteous. Angst-ridden and super fly. Buttered up and laid to the side.
Stoned, blown and renowned. (Make those words rhyme. You can do it!)
Pick up that cast aside trowel and create. You have to create, Jarod.
Memories of fever dreams - these are tales that can't be told. Not with words. Not easily. These are the totems he has to create.
Creation from chaos.
A bucket of stars was thrown upon him. He is blessed now. Blessed by light. Illuminated like a fallen angel.
Create!
All of that inner turmoil - that cup of iron filings and molasses - has to be dealt with. Do your thing, baby. Do your thing!
Ingest sensually and digest explosively.
Birds in cages. Pictures in frames. Words on the page. Blood on the roof tops.
Heaven remains yours, minus a bucket of stars. What are you going to do with it?

Response to comment about "Mindless meandering."

That is my favorite comment from you (or anyone), so far, Wonderpop! Did you catch the bit about Goldwax? I guess I included that because art (images, books, music) is my answer to the big question. At least it takes your mind off all the craziness.
Wow, I feel like I engaged you. But, you know, without a ring.

Mindless meandering.

I heard a guy on NPR, tonight, talking about theoretical mathematics, the string theory and the idea of "multiverses" - parallel universes. I would go mad contemplating these notions at any length. Just what I've read about black holes warped my mind. I wish I could make sense of my own personal microcosm. I know I'll never understand my place in the universe. Or universes.
The next story, on NPR, was about a little known R+B record label, from the 60s, called Goldwax. The songs were great, the performances soulful and the production, gorgeous. That I could understand.

Life keeps happening. The wheel keeps turning. Is there a point to it? Are we animals confined to an unnatural system of societal pressures? Is that why we're so miserable? I know I keep trying to make my dog change certain behaviors, but he can't. He's a dog. His brain is wired differently.
I think my brain is wired differently. Artists (good and bad) attempt to create their OWN universes. Or inject some order into the one they already have. Now, if I could only find a way to make a living from this philosophy...
"Solipsism" is the idea that you can only know your own mind - that all other minds are unknowable and, get this, may not even exist! I generally find my mind to be incomprehensible and I often question ITS existence.
Label that. (Insanity?)

My progress.

It's not right, it's not pretty, but it's back together and on the road. Everything is "off" because of the warpage from the accident. The closer you look, the worse IT looks. But, I got the lights working and it has a new radiator and AC condenser.
I'm going to drive this piece of crap 'til it dies (hopefully, no time soon).

 

 

My progress.

Both of my brothers-in-law came over Friday and helped me put my car back together. It sure was nice of them and I really appreciated it.
The front end could not be straightened out completely, so things didn't fit back correctly (of course). I was going to post a pic of our work, but it's not something I'm particularly proud of. I did a few things to it today and I'm going to try it out tomorrow and see if there are any discernible problems. I may need to add transmission fluid and I still need some bulbs for the head lights. The hood doesn't shut tightly. I hope it won't pull up in the breeze. If everything works, I'm gonna drive it, no matter how ugly it is - and be thankful to have a ride.
Could I be any more freaking positive?!

Crunch time.

My income has been cut in half. Meanwhile, my bills continue to mount.
Because this has been one of the coldest winters on record and because I've been home more (necessitating more heating), my electric bill has nearly quadrupled! (Not to mention the gas bill [although, it seems I did].) My car repairs have amounted to $700 so far. I have the added phone bill, now that I don't have a work phone. I've used up every bit of money I had saved (which, admittedly, wasn't much). And there's no relief in sight.
Tons of bills, half the income. Do the math. This WILL NOT add up. I would sell blood, if I wasn't concerned about it affecting my heart condition. Or, if anyone would even want my blood, with my checkered past.
I'm just going to have to stay in bed all day. If I don't get up, I won't be going anywhere, eating, using heat or spending money. How's that for a plan? I should have implemented this plan before I wrecked my car...
And, life keeps happening.

Hominy snow.

We're getting more snow. This is the 3rd snowfall we've had this winter. That's quite unusual for our area.
These most recent snowflakes are lumpy. My sister says it's called hominy snow.

Denise Cass Brookman.

I just had to post the back cover pic of Mrs. Brookman, author of "The Tender Time," with her English Bulldog, Brutus. She earned a BA in Liberal Arts from Northwestern University and sold her first story to "Seventeen" magazine, in the early 50s.
How perfect is this photo? I love the black (dress? slacks?) and the necklace. I'll bet the Brookmans were real martini imbibing swingers!

 

"The Tender Time"

I'm reading "The Tender Time" by Denise Cass Brookman. It's a Best Loved Girl's Books book, published in 1958. Even though "TTT" is populated by kids who say "Gosh" and "Golly" and girls who find boys "dreamy," it's not badly written. Mrs. Brookman often transcends the genre, if only in brief flashes. I can imagine her composing something much more sophisticated and adult-like.
I'm just a sucker for the cover illustrations on books from the 50s and early 60s. I mean, look at Jim's eyelashes and Stephie's smile. And the way she's leaning into him. Dreamy!

 

People used to love me.

Jim,
I just wanted to say thank you for bieng (sic) so wonderfull (sic). You have cared for me in so many ways that I could never repay you. A lot of people say, "I will alway (sic) love you" and do not. I will always have a special place for you in my heart. I couldn't imagine life the same without you. You may feel down sometimes but I would like for you to know how I feel about you. I think you are smart, funny, a good listener, talented, hard working, loving, kind, + thought full (sic). There aren't many people I am comfortable around, but I feel like I am a part of your life + vice versa. I look forward to seeing you when I get home.

Love,
J.

P.S. I hope you feel better soon.

(Comment: I sound like a great guy, don't I?)

The Alchemist. (Written when I was 13.)

The alchemist.
He sits.
He waits.
He ponders.
He excitedly opens a huge dust covered book, runs his trembling finger down a page, then closes it - sadly, quietly.
The sun's rays, which peer through the small window at the top of the dingy room, become dimmer, dimmer.
The alchemist.
He sits.
He waits.
He ponders.

My progress.

I have my new radiator and A/C condenser. It was ordered yesterday and arrived this morning. I also found the other parts I needed at a junkyard. And guess what? They're white, like my car! I was expecting to have to ride around in a two tone whip. So, that's very cool. Now, if I can just remember where all of those bolts go...
I laid in bed last night worrying about finding parts and being able to afford them. I could not have done ANY of this (in view of my recent economic misfortunes) without the aid of my friend Chuck. Thanks again, Chuck. (I think of you every time I consider a comma.)

Unpleasant photo alert.

This is the result of a combination of car repairs and blood thinners. I should have taken a photo before the blood congealed, when it was pouring down my hand. Oh well, this is gory enough.
My brother-in-law came over this morning and we managed to pull the front of the car out a good bit. I think I can work with it now. I called a local junk yard about some used body parts. They said, "Yeah, we have what you need." They gave me a price and everything. I went to the junkyard to get the parts and they told me, "Sorry, we don't have any parts to fit your car."
Ok.
I went to an auto parts store for my radiator and air conditioner condenser. Again, I had been quoted a price over the phone. When the guy rang up my purchases, it was $80 more than i had been quoted! I said, "Whoa!" I explained that I was given a price over the phone and that was not it. He said, "Let me see what I can do." He looked at his computer for a while and eventually came down to the original price. I tell ya, the auto parts business is crooked.
Right now, I'm waiting on a call from another junkyard. They may have what I'm looking for. If not, I have a Punk Rock back-up plan. Yes I do... This car WILL be back on the road in a couple of days.

 

Waiting.

I'm up, waiting for my brother-in-law. It's a tad rainy, so he may not show. Also, my nephew is still here. Why doesn't he ever go to work? He brought in some toilet paper and paper towels last night. This kind of shit makes me nervous. It's like he's moving in. It's also like he thinks he's paying rent with paper products. He's so self centered (coming from a guy who writes a blog). He rambles on about the most mundane aspects of his life, never taking a breath (again, from a bloggist). When he runs out of words, he actually says, "Blah, blah, blah."
Jeez, I need my house back. And, my car fixed.
This day isn't starting off so well.

My progress (such as it is).

I got my unemployment money today, so, with the loan of my sister's car, I was able to get my meds refilled. Phew! Also, while we didn't actually do any repairs, my brother-in-law did come by and inspect my wreckage - of the automotive persuasion. (The psychological and emotional wreckage will have to wait.) We have a plan now and we'll get to work on it tomorrow, barring any rain. I priced parts today, too. If I can just bring all of these elements together - get my ducks in a row, as it were - I should be able to have my car back on the road by sometime next week. Here's hoping the chassis isn't bent and it doesn't cause the tires to wear unduly. I think it may be ok.

RIP Don Kirshner.

Don Kirshner died yesterday. One report said he was 76. Another said 77. He was known in the music industry as "The Man with the Golden Ear."
I first became aware of him in the 70s, through his show "Don Kirshner's Rock Concert." It was one of the only shows on TV where you could see real rock and roll played live. Some of these acts were eye (and ear) openers: Bowie, Alice, Kiss, Ramones, the New York Dolls, T.Rex, etc.
I fondly remember his low key, somewhat monotone, introductions. He was kinda like an Ed Sullivan for the 1970s.
He was instrumental in the careers of too many people to mention - from the 1960s until his death. He certainly was a fixture of my youth. Goodbye, Don.

My non-progress.

It rained today, so I didn't get any car repairs done. I don't feel too good about that.
I walked to the store, in the rain, to get some food to last for a couple of days. Now, I have no money, no car, no gas to heat with and no money for meds (I ran out today). The last time I saw my doctor, he emphasized that I should never go without my meds. No one seems to understand - when you're broke, you can't do anything. Certainly, a cardiologist doesn't understand being broke.
Other than walking to the grocery store, I've just been in the house all day - watching "The Lord of the Rings."
I feel so helpless just waiting. But, that's what I have to do. My unemployment money probably won't be available until Thursday, because of the MLK holiday.
I'm a patient man, but my patience is wearing thin. Very thin. If you could see it, it would look like those slices of bread used to make Donald's sandwich in "Mickey and the Beanstalk."

A little hopeful.

I have a plan to fix my car and that makes me feel a little hopeful. My brother-in-law said he would help and my friend Chuck is giving me a loan for parts. Thanks so much to them both.
I don't think I'm a bad person. I don't think the devil is after me. I've just had a long stretch of extremely bad luck. I don't think it's been aimed at me in any cosmic kinda way - it's just the luck of the draw. The randomness of a chaotic universe. Things just happen - good, bad and middle of the road innocuous. I am due for a little good luck, though, I think (just in case there are any benevolent forces within range of this blog).
I'm trying to do my part.

My progress.

Isn't this gorgeous?
I'm keeping the blog apprised of any developments in my quest for wheels.
I removed the radiator and fenders yesterday. My brother-in-law said he would help me pull the front end out tomorrow. I've priced radiators and the plastic bit on the front of the car that holds the lights. It's going to be a job getting all of this back together, but I have to do it. Being broke and cold is one thing (well, actually, it's two...), but being without a ride totally sucks!

 

Ophiuchus. Nov. 29 - Dec. 17.

Also known as Serpentarius. Is this a new sign of the zodiac?

 

This disastrous life.

I was laying in bed, aching all over from the accident, with all kinds of thoughts going through my head. Thoughts like how no one gets the whole picture of what I've been through in the last few months. Everyone sees a segment. Every agency I deal with. Everyone I talk to. Segments. Facets. Bits and pieces.
I keep getting knocked the fuck down. I get up and I get flattened. Over and over.
As I was thinking about these things, I had a vision, immediate and fully formed, as clear as a Diane Arbus photo, of me, homeless, begging and dying on the street. I saw how a chain of events in a person's life could lead to hopelessness and destitution.
I have no one to love me. I have no money. I have no job. I have no prospects for a job. If I were to find a job, I'm not sure I would have the strength to keep it. I have no car. And I have, maybe, a few years left.
All of the things I held onto, as totems of positivity, are failing me now.
I had an epiphany. I saw the downward spiral - step by step. It seems, at this point, to be the logical conclusion to this disastrous life.

Maybe the devil IS after me.

Makes as much sense as anything else.

 

Life keeps getting better and better.

Continuing the unending wave of misfortune that has become my life, I wrecked my car this morning. I pulled out from a stop sign and never saw the other car coming.
No one was hurt, but I was (and still am) very shaken.
I got my unemployment money yesterday and I'm broke today. I even had to borrow money for the tow truck. Now, on top of everything else - my health, my financial worries - I have no car. I have no way to even look for a job, and if I find one, no transportation.
My sister, who came out to the accident site, said, in her usual audacious, self righteous manner, "I know one thing, the devil is after you." I'm about as down and out as I can get. I have no one on my side. Horrible things keep happening to me and, apparently, according to my sister, it's my own fault.
I've always considered myself to be strong willed. Not so much, anymore. I'm ready to give up.

 

"I Shot Mao Zedong."

I just read that an Andy Warhol screen print of Mao Zedong, which had been owned by Dennis Hopper, recently sold for $302,500.
The screen print had 2 bullet holes, courtesy of a startled Mr. Hopper. He showed the aerated portrait to Andy. Andy circled the bullet holes, labeled them and told Dennis that he considered it a collaboration.
The work went for 10 times its highest auction estimate.
Andy would have been thrilled.

THE SHAGGS REUNITED! (1999)

Thirty years after the release of "Philosophy of the World," The Shaggs reunited (minus Helen, who suffers from depression) to open for NRBQ, in NYC. NRBQ, who are fans, were instrumental in getting the girls' music reissued - once in 1980 and again in 1999.
Photo courtesy of Spin magazine.

 

THE SHAGGS.

The Shaggs were 3 sisters - Dot, Helen and Betty Wiggin - from Fremont, NH. They grew up dirt poor and all but completely alienated from pop culture. Their father had dreams of them becoming big stars, so he rehearsed them hard, bestowed upon them their groovy moniker and dragged the girls into a small studio in 1969. To say they weren't ready to record would be an understatement.
Their album, "Philosophy of the World," eventually found its way into the hands of a DJ, who played it on air, as a joke. Soon, Frank Zappa was saying that it was one of his favorite albums and that The Shaggs were better than The Beatles. Ahem...
It would be easy to dismiss this album as a crazy goof if it were not for the strangely touching songwriting of Dot Wiggin and the heartfelt, although somewhat unearthly, musical performances.

Rumors:
Kurt Cobain was said to have listened to "Philosophy of the World" nearly every day.
Someone is working on a Shaggs movie.

You'll either love this music, or want to shove chop sticks into your ear drums. Me, I'm of the former camp (fortunately).
The Shaggs love you! The Shaggs ROCK!

 

The Cult of the Space Heater.

Scooter, the heater worshipper. This is where he spends the majority of his time. He's devoted.

 

What a life...

A person's veins constrict when it's cold
Making things more conducive to heart failure
It's odd to have to consider notions like that
What a life...

My blood pressure dipped really low this morning
I don't know why
It doesn't make much sense to me
Nothing makes much sense anymore.

I think that concepts of order and value and meaning
Don't mean so much as you age
That's why old men just say what they think
And wear funny clothes.

It's hard to latch onto something
That's inherently beyond anyone's grasp
The beliefs you clung to for most of your life
Were only ribbons of smoke.

I look in the mirror sometimes
And become entranced
That man looking at me
Who is he?

Sometimes I feel ok
Other times I think I'm ready to board the train
Life has become so unpredictable
Smoke is hard to hold.

Life goes on.

Although it's still cold, it did get above freezing for a little while today, so the snow has begun to melt. I took a trip out to the grocery store, this morning. My car doors were frozen and I had to scrape 3 inches of snow off of my windows. The roads are slushy and muddy. Everything looks sad compared to yesterday. It's just cold and nasty now.
I didn't get much done today. I went to the ATM and checked the balance on my unemployment card, but they haven't added anything yet. Usually, it's in there by Tuesday. It cost me 2.00 to check! I washed some dishes, put my clothes away, vacuumed the floors and used the Coinstar at the Food Lion. I had about 62.00 in coins.
I HAVE to get out tomorrow and do some job searches. I'm behind this week.
Meanwhile, the cold weather will not let up. It's supposed to get into the teens sometime this week. I'll be needing propane again before I know it. I'm trying to use it sparingly, but I'm sick of freezing.
I'm going to try to get to bed early tonight and do some reading. I'm reading "Another Roadside Attraction" by Tom Robbins. I started it years ago and never finished it, for some reason. It's rare that that happens. I did it with "The Brothers Karamazov." I haven't gotten back to that one, yet...

More snow...

We so rarely get snow, I couldn't help but post one more shot.
Thet thar's me holy hole.

 

SNOW!!

I was really rather surprised this morning to awaken to a winter wonderland. The weather guy had been calling for rain and possibly a smidgen of snow, so I figured it would just be cold, wet and plain old nasty today.
We've gotten much more than the last time it snowed (a few weeks ago). I couldn't even see the last step on my door steps. I snapped a few pics, then took the video camera out. I filmed until my fingers were frost-bitten, then came in to post these shots.
Snow is like paint. It covers a multitude of sins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Superstar!

Another small piece I picked up somewhere.