Skip to main content

RUDIMENTS 60.

RUDIMENTS  pt. 60
Making Cars
One thing I noticed was that, when
younger, a person seems to want to
have an opinion about everything.
Later on, in deeper age, it no longer
seems as vital, seems in fact more
to be just nosiness, blowhard stuff.
What used to be called 'Budinsky.'
That should surely be a syndrome
by now. They can sell  pills for it and
then have that long list of cool side
effects listed. Best thing the FDA
ever did  -  better than having to
call Mommy a drug addict. 'Well,
she often walks into walls now and
often poops her pants, but at least
we no longer have to hear what
she thinks about Cuba.'
-
Back when I was finishing high school,
that crummy final year filled with loads
of bad moments, there was a young
teacher, just starting, named, as I best
approximate, Mr. Fangeorelli. He was 
maybe 26 or 27, and for his first classes
they'd assigned him to a 'new' subject
class, never tried before. It was called,
'Non-Western Cultures'. Immediately one
is struck by how 1960's the very concept 
is, like 'lets have courses about all those
other people who are not like us, those 
freaks and pygmies, the African bug-eaters,
those weird South and Central Americans
and all their gods and temples.' Real
Board of Ed boardroom stuff. So, they
give it to this new guy. He was from
Plainfield, and his family had a vegetable
mart that spilled out onto the sidewalk,
stuff for sale; Plainfield Fruits & Vegetables.
Kind of a creepy guy, (disclaimer here, right
up front  -  he eventually got fired for 
messing around with a girl student or 
three. I know no more and it wasn't me). 
He had an opinion on absolutely all matters,
and because of that very little real matter
ever got covered in class. He'd manage each
class (I recall it as two, maybe three, classes
a week) to sidetrack the entire operation
by talking about every extraneous matter
you could think of  -  from Star Trek (TV)
to the Miss America Contest, and everything
in between. The highlight of the class, and
I guess what made it manageable, was when
the 'girls' would cook dishes native to whatever 
culture or country was ostensibly the subject
of the course right then. Weird Peruvian
potatoes, and African green things. That's
how it just went but I was constantly annoyed
by being subjected to some fool's opinion
on everything.
-
You see, the trouble with that is that opinions
only ever end up reinforcing the status-quo.
And that's all they ever want  -  because the
import of the entire idea is to render everything
ineffectual. All things are presented as either
'this' or 'that'  -  in a very stark either/or way.
Which is about as completely stupid as you
can get -   so who wants your opinion. I
had plenty of (unschooled) opinions about
everything, but hey were really more like
attitudes, and I never piped up and no one
ever asked me anyway  -  but if they had, I'd
probably have peeled their eyelids with burn
at a few of the concepts I'd have handed them.
All society ever wants to do is to keep on
going along just as it is, which means every
item that's already in place wants to stay that
way. So, schools are about the last place 
for any fool to begin opining about stuff.
-
I never understood much, and I had a lot of 
scars to show for it. Nor was I ever much
for games and feints and all that fake stuff
people in neighborhoods do. Basically it's
all to flatter the next guy's wife. Catch her eye.
I never understood why Life itself shouldn't
just be about relaxation and learning; but
learning in a relaxed manner. They'd even
made a rat-race out of that, and then they
wanted you to enjoy it and volunteer to
PAY for some four more years of it. Career
opportunities abounded. For nitwits. It all
just goes on and gets continued, mostly all
because no one ever just says 'Stop! Instead
they keep jamming structures and formats
and logic and reason down your throat for
all those deadly-years of enforced government
schooling taught by the worst examples of
their calling you want to find. Pill-popping, 
overly-energetic types who, like that 'Non Western' 
cultures guy just end up pawing little girls. 
Or boys, if it's a church thing.
-
At least when I got away, landed in NYC, 
I was away from all that. The library there
was as big as a small country (probably
a non-western one), and I took full advantage
of wandering around and staying lost within
it....and much more. I knew there had to be
some sensible matter 'out there'  -  but it 
had, to that date, eluded me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

RUDIMENTS 997.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 997 (at the bongo club) I never had much direction, or what direction I had I gave to myself, be it good or bad. On looking back now (seems that's all I do these days) I sense that I was easily swayed and was often quite zig-zag in my ways. (I don't mean zig-zag in the sense of the Zig Zag rolling papers guy, which papers were used for rolling joints, and which name I was often told by a guy I worked for once, that I resembled. Well, the person of that name anyway, shown on the packaging). Fact is, I never smoked much pot. Maybe three or four times. It never interested me, whereas this guy who said it smoked pot like other people ate chocolate. I was around lots of that stuff, and more (pot, not chocolate). First off, pot was for babies. Beginner's stuff. The kind of people I knew then who were potheads were all in a sort of stalled, infantile regression, and their pot-smoking only dragged them deeper into place - they neve...

RUDIMENTS 329.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 329 Making Cars When you get out of Nancy Whiskey Pub and roll yourself down to Puffy's, that's a whole other story. Or was then; it's been a while now since I've been there. Puffy's used to have, displayed in its front window, an old photograph, maybe 16x20 inches, framed, and that photo showed old Hudson Street, maybe about 1935, when it was a working-class street, lined with small shops, lofts, and factories. All for the kind of guys who used to work there, and drink at Puffy's. Across the street was the Western Union Building made famous by the writings of Henry Miller, and, nearby, a Bell Tel place and, across from Puffy's at the corner exactly, the grand, old, 1880's building that was once the headquarters of the New York Mercantile Exchange. (In the 1920's and before, someone in my wife's family line was the President of that Exchange, go to find out). That building was ...

RUDIMENTS 884.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 884 (shooting fish in a barrel) Hassle-free cops? I wonder. Back about, oh, I forget the year, I parked next to a friend's house in Avenel, on Chase Avenue, to be exact, in front of the neighbor's house. The kid that lived in the house, some little pesky 12-year old, put his bike down in front of my car, as a snarky challenge to blocking me from leaving. Something about not wanting me in front of the house. I told the kid if he didn't move the bike in a few minutes, I'd simply run over it as I left. He didn't; I did. Turns out the kid's father was a not-so-friendly cop. Boy did I take a go-round on that one. Just goes to show the law hides in the most unlikely places; that's their game - like the cop cars you see now, 70 feet off the road, thinking they're actually hidden from view, just waiting for scanning as each car rolls by. Dorks have better chances in a whorehouse. The othe...