Coda to the Index

We are a culture
obsessed with
selling beauty
when it's free
all around us.

Deconstructing the Index

The only way to make it
is to trick yourself into view.
They won't notice or care
and you won't make a mark
unless you misdirect attention
your way. Doesn't matter
what you've got, you're worthless.
Until you create the accident.

I used to act,
now I perform a show
whenever I feel like it
at work,
no director, no script,
and a stage wherever I want.

Johnny Depp
was a cinematic Paris Hilton
before he slipped into his Sparrow.

I went to the same high school,
same college, had the same teacher
who criticized him (but she, uh,
liked me), but I never got into
Stephen King until a couple of movies
put him in my must-read stack.

He may have had ways to
engender himself to the crowd,
but Ric Flair learned
to be The Man he had to become The Man
by becoming the most dedicated
star in the business.

It's a bitch of a way to go.

Building the Index

The thing about philosophy
is that it's spent most
of its time concerned only
with matters that seemed
pressing at the time, or
just trying to figure out
what goes on inside our heads.

The Metaphysics of Value
are concerned at least as
much with the concept
of context as anything else.
You could it's one of
Value's primary objectives,
because of its unexamined
importance.

Context is what philosophy
should always be about,
not just in the study
of what people were up
when they were thinking,
but in the way they
were thinking, what they
were thinking of. I hate
to say it, but the history
of thought has been sort of
shallow to this point.
It's not hubris speaking,
that's just the way it is.

Context is about what lies
at the heart of things,
because at the heart of things
is what's around that heart.
If you'll indulge the metaphor,
to speak of the heart of things
is to acknowledge a body around
it, which we've all done a great
job theorizing, but what matters
is taking into account what
is actually there, why something
is, because we know, we have
developed psychology pretty well
at this point, even though any
class you take will teach you
anything but psychology,
just what a bunch of wankers
tested with it. That's because
most people really don't know.
They can think in terms
of context, but they have no idea
what it really is.

That's why it's a matter for
the Metaphysics of Value,
why I must pretend it cannot be
understand, because it really can't.
Context is another distinction
for the guiding principles
of civilization, the belief in
the past, present, and the future.
We've done a great job with the first
two, but notably, even Christianity,
which has footholds in them and
has always talked about the last one,
has never been able to figure out
what to do about the only unknown
we pretend to know.

We pretend, and that's where
the vacuum appears around context.
If you cann't understand where
you're going, then it stands
that you're really just lost.

[The extended poem The Index will be inserted into the collected version of WE'LL SEE at a later date]

Colin Powell Was Going to Be Barack

Colin Powell was going to be Barack Obama,
but then he got into politics.

Labors Lost

Let's make it official -
Sadie's off the market.

I guess it should have
been obvious for a while,
but my pathological need
to be charming and endearing
to women (okay,
in general, which certainly
gets me in unwanted trouble)
backfired when I allowed her
to become the primary object
of my favors, which resulted
in another round of heavy
self-pity and woe-is-me.
To my credit, now this third
one, this third experience,
has helped me along in
the effort to avoid it from
happening again (well,
that and the fact that
the second is still knocking
around in my head),
which is one among many
things I desperately need.

And in desperation
and through desperation,
I have learned of moderation,
that if I obsess,
in the only sense I
currently know
and with all the facts
that haunt me,
only pain may follow.

So again I thank you, Sadie,
for being the unwitting
agent of my liberation.

I need not pursue you more,
not to cause you pain
and learn still more
that pain it will cause me still,
and we shall all be the happier for it.

Well, pretty much.

Grant Me...

Grant me the ability
to see past the things
that sometimes cloud
my vision. It's funny,
because, generally
speaking, I have bad
vision, which would
make a perfect metaphor
if you wanted to be
easy about it. I
just don't, I guess.
I have this terrible
problem with Buddhism,
which is a philosophy
that theoretically
I should embrace,
because it's really
not that different
from what I think,
but it happens to be
human nature to look
at similarities as
not good enough,
relatable but still
too close to different
for us to feel comfortable,
and that's pretty much
human history summed up.

Grant me the ability
to see past my foibles
and remember my strengths,
because the two are too
similar for me to sometimes
tell them apart, and they
work too well together
for me to accurately
predict the future,
which is something people
who think too much
are always trying to do.

Also, grant me the ability
to accept that there are
some things in my control,
some things that are not,
but that in the middle
and between and all around
them, including them,
that are both and neither at all.

World Wide New Fade

Here's the thing
about the New Fade.
It should not be
assumed to be an
insular concept,
but rather one
that embraces
the whole mess
of the world.

Sure, you've got
your obvious muck
in the American
and European arenas,
even the cultural
rumbas down south
of the US, where
perhaps we could say,
the countries themselves
have seen better
political days.

In China, you can find
the last remnants of
the old Communism fad
(unless you count Cuba
and its crazy Castros,
but I think such things
are more a reaction
to being left out
of all the good
benefits of being
the New World, but
at least they like
baseball), but I
think you could say
we're far more hard
on them than we need
to be. I mean,
it has a greater
domestic product
of babies than
celebrities can
possibly keep up
with. There is
going to be
growing pains.
Everyone has
human rights issues,
everyone, even the guys
who make those lists.

Other than that,
you may also note
the Middle East,
in case you hadn't
noticed. They've
got problems there, too,
just trying to figure out
what it means to be
a citizen of the modern world.
I mean, the New Fade
ain't kind, and it
ain't easy. There's
just going to be
some issues along
the way. Things happen,
feelings are hurt,
mistakes are made.
I'm not making light,
just attempting
to shed it.

I mean,
seriously,
the minute
everyone reacts
to the same thing
in the same way,
someone should make
sure a starfish
hasn't been fastened
to all those faces.

I have hope.
Yeah,
I'm stupid like that,
but I do think
we're figuring
this shit out.

I Swear That She Knows

I swear that she knows
(well, they say they always do),
and even though she can't,
she's happy in some parallel world,
we've become happy together,
not just because we can be happy,
but because we can be happy,
y'know, together.

Of course, here, we can't,
and I think I can be okay
with that, and just sort of
be happy for her, because
yeah, she deserves that, too.

(And because it's so much fun!)

Modern Ark

Everyone's always going somewhere.

And consequently,
someone's always
being left behind.


I've been viewing
birds as a vanguard
of nature, making
sure it's still safe
for the rest of
the animal kingdom,
perched or soaring,
jumping at my approach.
I think when they leave,
we'll know we're really
in trouble.

Boo used to be
the center of
attention,
until we moved,
and the dogs came.
In my sister's eyes,
she's been replaced
by Jill.
Not in mine.

I watched a party
of deer cross the street
a few weeks back,
the first a leader,
making the way safe
for the others.

Yesterday,
a german shepherd
somehow got loose
and first caught my
eye just as I
was getting to work,
ruffling the
Furry Lumpy Things
(and their recent new
friend, some tiny breed
of dog). During the day,
I didn't notice when
the page went over about
some dogs loose in
the parking lot,
that he must still
be out there.
So on the way home,
I must have been
the more thrilled
and concerned to find
the same dog still
trying to find home again.
But it was somewhat better
for him now:
he'd found a tiny companion
of his own (cue the movie!),
a chihuahua,
and they both still had
enough in the tank
to continue marking
territory, like
desperate European explorers.

I imagine by now they're found,
and I'm happy if they are,
and just as happy if they've found
some fine way to cope. It's been
enough time, right?

Yeah, I never know
how to measure that,
either.

Lover's Complaint

waaa

waaa

Waaa!!!

I Hate To Disagree With Mr. King

Well, I'll actually
start out by saying
I agree, because
buzz and hype are
different things.
But I have different
ways to categorize them.

Hype is the thing
that's generated
not just for some
big release in film
or literature,
but what you get when
someone just wants
to sell something.
It's basically
meaningless and never
guarantees you'll
enjoy yourself
(on that last note,
we still agree).

Buzz lasts longer.
Buzz is about the
person who ended up
liking whatever
they came across,
and yeah, they'll
talk about it,
but it doesn't have
to be something new,
just whatever they
will still remember
long after the
original experience.
That's what buzz is,
the ability to sustain
interest, long after
supposedly disposable
interests have stayed
with you.

An argument
to be continued...

Chunky Peanut Butter Is Not Good On Bagels

I've had an obsession
with chunky peanut butter
for a while now, and
only in the past few days
have I found a reason
to reconsider it.

I found out it's no good
as a spread on bagels.

Back to the regular stuff!

(But, I'll still
indulge myself
sometimes.)