When it comes my time to put the 45 to the roof of my mouth or I have survived the need to serve these vices and overly demanding associations of an infantile social construct, there are a great many things to be revealed that will undoubtedly deconstruct the fabric of many a precept.
I’m currently finishing a peanut butter, banana and granola on white with some tea and a beer after being jarred awake by a nightmare and then a realization about the current state of relationships in my life. There seems to be a fabric of human social inter action which requires one to be entirely devoid of logic yet accepting of illogical and malicious behavior as some sort of romantic exchange. There is also an amazing story I am being entirely wheel clamped from writing about and it is ripping me to shreds.
Sometimes we can just never know or experience the truth and for many, that is acceptable until they are ready or too tired of the lie.
For now I can tell you the truth about another era more or less of us survived in knowing better of today.
Bardstown road is the Haight/Ashbury of Louisville Kentucky and it was there at a small café by the name of “Twice told” that I cut my teeth on orating, poetry slams, punk and noise rock and even the occasional attempt at stand-up comedy.
The country was also cutting its teeth on a new era of discord. The 70’s and 80’s had made us a very fluffy and tuned out culture willing to accept and comply with just about anything the power structure handed down and the 90’s were shaping up to be nothing less than a socio-political mind fuck that would apathies the nation completely and ensure that any future expression of objection to the status quo would be nothing but the warped musings of insanity no more articulate than the banter of a veteran crack head post frontal lobectomy.
George H. Bush had climbed to power as a milder and more acceptable version of hard line GOP predecessors. While Nixon opened us to China, Bush had been a fully articulated implant there and by the early 90’s the communist debt bridge that the two parties were happily building together under the guidance of the Republican consumption engine was well under way.
This was all entirely outside of my own willingness to perceive or be active about at the time. Though I was seeing the signs clearer and more articulated than most around me, I just did not care for the trappings of national politics or activism. My entire world had expanded through a single act of rebellion one evening in my Junior year of high school. Before that night I was mild mannered cyber geek shut-in Justin La Pante. Six months later I was “Baba Elmo”, “the cowboy”, “J-slink” and even spent a time as a tag artist by the moniker of “Piss”. I was having sex, doing drugs, growing my hair as long as possible and terrifying my family.
I was still in high school in Shelby county when I began making trips to Louisville to perform at places like Twice Told, Stone Mountain and the Rudyard Kipling on their open mic nights. There were a lot of good spoken word artists in Louisville at the time. John Paul Wright and Captain Redbeard were two I’d come to know very well. Redbeard was a hobo who traversed the Appalachia and Louisville during summers and headed down to Florida in Winters. A lot of his material dealt with old explorers like Ferdinand Magellan. John Paul was a manic depressive hippie who could lose or gain 60 pounds in under a month. He was often asking me to evacuate him from Louisville to some far flung cabin or squat.
They weren’t too interested in politics either. No one really was. Bardstown road was full of hippies, punkers, mods, bros and hipsters and no one was more interested in politics or activism than they were in the next show or rave. The world was more asleep than ever and it was about to be subdued even further by a series of nightmares. Nationally the apathy was just about the same no matter where you went. It wasn’t that everyone was happy with the way things were, just that no one really gave a fuck.
We had given ourselves over to understanding, educating and being involved less in our government and social conscious than people in third world countries and we could because we owned everything and worked for nothing. Only now, in the dawn of the 21stcentury are we finally regretting the effects of our inaction.
Yet still I hear people complain. Only now it is a confluence of mind shattering ramblings from wactivists, religious psychopaths and political opportunists succeeding at almost every level to further distract and destroy their fellow Americans with nonsense. Feeding from the carnage and ignorance like a virus in the final stages of killing it’s host.
Liberals and conservatives alike are now branded slaves to an almost mechanized system of self destruction. So-called “alternative” political parties that pretend to offer solutions are nothing more than extensions of the higher power political figureheads being established and funded without the slightest guile or inconspicuousness. Further illustrating just how apathetic and ignorant we are now willing to be.
I miss the days when none of it mattered to me. Spending nights out getting twisted on great substances, thrashing around in a mosh pit or playing a gig of my own and banging some random tomato in the back of my van after. When we take too much of life the world stops for us. Which stands to reason why so many of us want it to stop all together today. When I think about what I would tell myself at that age, I honestly can not think of anything I would tell him to do differently. I regret mush of what I did at that age but who are we without those mistakes?
Well,.. the beer is catching up and I think a few laps around the block should just get me to sleep.