RUDIMENTS 1164.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,164

(I'm out of time)

Dear Milllicent - I took your

car from the driveway in

New Orleans, but never

brought it home. Some

black folks up in Portland

took it from me, saying it

was rightfully theirs. I

couldn't fight back, as they

burned the 7-11. I'd driven

up to Oregon to see what I

could see about all this that

was going on. Maybe write

about it, or just observe for

later. Nothing made sense,

and I took a Greyhound

down to Tempe, Arizona

a few days later. I got there

OK, well, really 'here,' since

I haven't yet left. It's quieter

here, but boring as Hell.

All you may hear about

Arizona; think sleeping

buros and inactive Central

Americans.

-

Up in Portland, the entire

range of rage was different,

and it seemed to be always

changing. No one knew what

any of it was about, but to them

it didn't matter anyway. The

strife and the theater of display

was all that mattered. I was

unable to make any rightful

connection between blacks and

Portland - like, what are they

doing there anyway? - but

the place was a sea-broil of

anger and activity. They seemed

to feel everything was theirs, or

should be. As if they were the

only people in the world with a

grievance about that world. Well,

get on board, Sunshine. All they

did was yammer and not listen -

a person could never get a word

in edgewise, and all they said

was bullshit anyway. They sure

can put on those porker pounds

too; you'd think they'd have

worked them off. I figured to

myself, as I was leaving, 'nothing

worse than seeing chubby people

demonstrating.' Headline: 'Big

Lines at Taco Bell!'

-

From Burnside Street to the

Big Willamette River, most I

noticed was big guys peeing.

I guess that's all part of the

street-life serenade now - can't

expect the authorities (or maybe

you can) to provide Porta-Johns

for destructive protesters? I too

remember the Burger King by

Zuccotti Park; big problems there

too, rest rooms, and food. I think

they did eventually drop in the

Port-Johns at streetside, but, it

was NYC after all, so I figure

every con man and hoodlum was

in on the take from that contract,

and they probably cost the city

2700 bucks a day, easy, each!!

I was there often enough, but

it too always bored me: all that

exhibitionist and false politics

was just getting started. But,

Occupy Wall Street had nothing

to compare with Portland, where

there was actual rage. Like stealing

your car, Millicent, and claiming

it was theirs. What was all that?

I wished I'd had had a gun.

-

Anyway, now I get disgusted

pretty easily, and it just mostly

makes me walk away. if I was

50 pounds heavier and had some

more inches, I'd fight the bastards

tooth and nail. But as it is, one or

two of them would easily drag me

down; and there's no justice. I'd

be found in the wrong.

-

It's a bit tedious, and I try to

think here of how to pay you back,

for the loss of the car, etc. I've mailed

you 50 lottery tickets (Arizona), so

checking results I guess can be a

real pain, but, when you get them

I'll let you know. (I wrote down

all 50 numbers, here).

-

Everything otherwise has become

so tedious. How we ever got to this

condition of being is beyond me; I'd

never have imagined it could come

to this. Sometimes I think people

are tired of everything, and they

seem just so ready to perk up

if only that 'right' person would

come along to rouse them. I did

once think that I could be a person

for that, but it never happened.

I ran out of energy just trying to

explain to people the things I

meant. In fact, I used to try the

ideas out on one or two friends, but

they'd always get pissed off at me

and no results were forthcoming.

I figured if it was that bad with

friends, how in the world would

others tolerate me? Screw 'em.

Now look what they've got.

And I'm out of time.