Ultraviolence

Where am I and where have I been? I am nobody, been nowhere, done nothing – a victim of the modern age. I’ve been watching a bunch of those old Japanese Samurai movies lately, Kirosawa films in particular. Fucking amazing! The Seven Samurai, the grizzled old samurai at the end of the epic battle… “We live again.” No ego, no bragging, no celebration. Skill and intelligence played a part, but his survival was pure chance. He could have died at any moment along the way without surprise. The battle could have gone either way without surprise. The end of a hundred such battles, taking no pride in it, just solemn recognition. “We live again.”

I have neglected this site, not kept it current, my life had other plans for me. When the shit piles up so high that it blocks out all light what can you do but trudge forward through the darkness? So that’s what I have done.

All the shit that was going on at once created what I am fondly referring to as “conflux”. During this conflux one of the issues was a broken foot and torn ligament in my ankle. It reduced me to a helpless invalid after a foggy week of dementia induced by pain meds. A screw was shoved into the bone, the first step in the long painful process of transforming my weak human body into the terminator.

So I was hobbling around like an old man, getting no work done, depressed, miserable, hopeless. When you can’t do the things that define you it awakens your awareness of the things you can do but haven’t.  I have been a fucking invalid in my life for the past year.  I have been a cripple in life.  A failure.  Average.  Unhappy.  Kept.  Sterile.

Living with my injury became unbearable.  Everything had to be planned out, routes created then followed in my mind.  Considerations taken that were alien to me.  Along with the other major dramas of my modern life it was a complete shake up.  I had to keep the foot elevated at all times.  I had to use elevators.  I could not work out in the gym.  I could not sleep properly.  I was a trainwreck.

One of the minor inconveniences of this was that I had to wrap the cast on my foot with a plastic bag before taking a shower, duct tape it to my leg, then painfully rip the tape and my leg hairs out after every shower.  And so one time when emerging from the steam chamber my somewhat soapy plastic leg slipped on the linoleum floor in my bathroom. I fell abrubtly, my feet both shooting out in front of me, my tailbone slamming down onto the floor, while my left hand shoved inadvertently directly into the unflushed toilet.  I neglected to flush prior to taking the shower.  Of course.  Are you fucking kidding me!?  I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, foot in agony, ass hurting, body dripping wet, hand in toilet. It was an epiphany. I am not going to take this shit a minute fucking longer.

So now I feel like Alex (Clockwork Orange) after the second procedure – when he get the hate back. Ultraviolence. That’s what I feel. That’s how I name the feeling that is driving me back to the leading edge of life. Ultra-fucking-violence.

So watch and wait, good things are coming.

I will keep this blast short – but I am going to punctuate it with art. Some created, some borrowed.  The image of the riot cop took me some time to create, but I like it, and that’s enough for me.  I toyed with the suit of the card for a while, originally using the Ace of Clubs, then Spades, but now after combining this image with the Bukowski poem I think the Ace of Hearts is the most appropriate.  Bukowski, my old friend. The genius of the crowd… well that’s just…

The Genius Of The Crowd

by Charles Bukowski

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

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