I'd promised my landlady not to spontaneously type here until all the rent is caught up, PIF, and an adroit avatar input rather than this LOCH NESS gargoylism proffered to us'in newbees.

However a torrent of sustained irony keeps me hanging on, e.g.: my capital F failure as a poet, journalist, short story writer, vignette writer, all of it, the poet, pauper, pawn and ....

Even now the apparent waste and near worthlessness of my 24 month earnstwhile endeavor,  or so: Women of the Avant-Garde which had portended to culminate (Chapter 20) with an interview with President Hillary Clinton.

Alas, to borrow an apropos adage from Joyce Kilmer:

Of all the words of tongue and state pen, the saddest are: what might have been.

Sustained irony, you know, like International Technology: IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO RAISE A CHILD

For sure, funny how the night moves. Like long ago and far away, when I'd wound up in the Haight (Geary & Jones), whilst the cognoscenti were in motion to Woodstock, NY great big fun with those mudslides, me and a VW vanload of AWOL types, unaware of the festival, you know naïve, vulnerable, vapid.  I well remember an orange trumpet blossom in my denim collar. Getting robbed whilst camping in Big Sur. That unwashed coterie of dark-haired beach bum looking scallywags who'd surrounded the Mustang as we idled over the dusty trail bound for provisions. We'd gotten back from the store and all our gear, GONE. Just a deflated igloo-type tent, an Eagle Scout tent garbage strewn with stepped on Spam cans, Kit-Kat wrappers, squashed and empty Hamms' beer sixers, a smashed jar of Tang.  And then, violated, aghast at the forever-broken 'campers creed' we'd thrashed over hill and dale sun-burnt as red neon tearing through bramble and over brook, outraged, scared, somehow fearful all at once until Stennie fell into that forest cave headfirst upon a Martin guitar. 

The bad guys (Mansonites?!) cache! All our stuff!

Meanwhile, cross the USA, to the minute, Jimmi Hendricks going on and on with All Along the Watchtower.

Fifty years and more, the boy disappears, where o' where are you, my Magic Martin Guitar?

So much depends upon where one was and what one was smoking during the ubiquity of the Beach Boys' Water Phase.  My own 'peers' (& we were legion as stardust) earned more than a yeoman's share with catch phrases like: Pollution! (laundry soap). Our cumulative IQ exceeded President Trump's Cabinet's especially on parity-comps with what came to be known as EQ.  And then one day our preferred language was usurped as TPTB labeled that feminine hygiene product FREEDOM.  At least as PM'd as a remarkable point by another long-gone blogger (c 2010) (also of Redbook acclaim) when she resolutely identified precisely how the world started its descent like some experimental dice-roll in a flame engulfed (proverbial) wicker hand basket.

Hart

(losing track in Little Switzerland, WI)

Jack Kerouac 1963 You can't jump off a mountain.

James Hart     2017 You can't jump off a shelf. 

4 FEB '17

Am I the only one typing & hearing Laura's Theme in a refurbished coal bin?  After my tart phone juices up {it's suspended from the outlet above the bulb, a scarlet ribbon twined over the copper bb-like chain....} I'll use the flashlight {thump, no?} and keep plowing through Crime and Punishment.  For sure she's comin 'round the mountain like one of those clever snap rings for the whole circlenessous. Spell checks to Colossus.  O I found Sal Paradise in the family tree although I should have been typing, going on like this, elsewhere, I believe I read near literary sainthood with those brothers from KS, you know the full tenor, alto and soprano of it.  So I gets to wondrin if E. Musk uses silver for lug nuts.  Earlier we spoke of 'little things' eg for want of a nail the shoe was lost . . .Had a similar experience caught in the fast lane on the Eden's toward O'Hare --- left front exploded to shredded wheat sparking the rim and Roxy listed bumping her temple on the radio dial --- twas takin her for that long good-bye, she snowbirds down on Marco, and yes, my lil-deuce-coupe reflexes are yet dang good as by the grace of all things holier than thou (snort, honk) so ag types were towing horse trailers sturdily out the right periphery and those good ol' gals must have NASCAR-like autopilot re-actions 'letting me through' to three wheel and rim it to the broad shoulder.

And donchaknow the dadblamed donut was deflated and I only tote along one of those inverse 7 spanner wrenches. And roadside the traffic thunders louder than Angel Falls.

23 FEB '17

Meanwhile approximately 24 hours ago 'Breaking' reported NASA's detail of 7 earth-like planets either 4 or 40 light years away; so I'm thinking: pack the ship and go; you know, some call it sleep.  How does one travel light for light years?  Will the craft have room for my piano?  Faster and farther than thought?  Then naught-ought? Whilst today AEON profiles Michael Strauss, Neil deGrasse Tyson and          J Richard Grott's: 'Our Universe is too vast for even the most imaginative sci-fi'.   Arguably Isaac Asimov's best work would be       'The Birth of the United States 1763-1816' (?) I just don't know. Maybe I'll doze for awhile listening to the best of Dionne Warwick, visualizing the Hadron Particle Collider --- potentially planning out a route to the Vatican Observatory. O& see 'ya later alligator* :)

*Hart apparently begins to struggle away from politics, ending above with an allusion to Gator Gate, dangling chads and the '00' fiasco. As there's apparently 'nuff said about the current U.S. POTUS debacle. Note the sustained irony in the acronym POT US!  Today's final word: Yikes! All this after he spent the better part of the New Year looking for an inflatable Campbell's Soup can. Yep. Label changed! If ifs and ands where pots and pans, there'd be no use for tinkers!  Good, he left 'em laughing. After while cockatiel (what? even spell ck's become symbiotic? Should read crocodile. Annoying, he thought, but powerful night swimmers! Go to sleep. Everything is alright!

26 FEB '17

~~~ In (Diminishing Light of EPA Chairman Pruitt's Breach of Office ~~~

    

"Before he enter on the execution of his office, he shall take the following oath or affirmation: "I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States."

POTUS' oath defends the Constitution of the United States; apparently omits anything to do with an                                        Environmental Protection Agency, albeit the unarguably bright nexus, our Joint Chiefs of Staff, (I saw somewhere (source?)) are on record declaring an environmental apocalypse wow is THE clear and present danger. So to appoint a wolverine as the safeguard of our roosting chickens is an egregiously insouciant example of say, nearly poetic whatchamacallit: Fire and Ice. A long gone buddy of mine, gone a good while, death by jogger's emphysema, an endorphin-charged environmentalist, was fond of saying that if the Cuyahogas Chernobyls and horrific Sandy Hook massacres didn't change their thinking --- hope is only a word.

Meanwhile, the Sudanese Famine would be the urgent focal point for a truly empathetic Commander in Chief.                              Welcome to the Age of Powerlessness.

1 MAR '17

Trumptopia Rising?

Palindrome found: EPA/APE  Why not have Jane Goodall's righteousness prevail as the Director of the  Environmental Protection Agency? 

Our beloved country remains as polarized as a knock-off pair of Foster Grants.  Day after vertical snow begins its fall; perhaps a cyber coincidence, once now all over upon a time, geometric bottle cap sized unique as the child's newspaper boat adrift adhering to winters' gone and next, warm as platitudes down upon feathering to river-colored streets as delicate as eyelashes, yesterday's blink of time.

And this: of Carl Sandburg,

Haze 

" ... Yesterday & tomorrow cross & mix on the skyline.  The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets. One waits..."

6 MAR '17

Aphorism

Think deeply, read more, write well.

16 MAR '17

Apples and Oranges

Low-hanging fruit, light, seeds, juice

Water creates earths

24 MAR '17

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=youtube+michael+row+the+boat+a...

 

Views: 457

Comment by J.P. Hart on July 18, 2017 at 10:39am

               Comment by J.P. Hart 1 second agoDelete Comment

gookderogatory term for an Asian; derived from Korean slang for "person" and passed down by Korean war veterans*

*Glossary of Military Terms

Last night I replied to STUDENT's IM from Sag Harbor: 'HART YOU CAN BE SUCH A SPORK!   What's with this microagression: your so-called cliché Zapesque riddled comment the other day invoking 'gook' in [sic] 'gook tunnels' how fracking denigratory.' 

Wowers!  STUDENT included an alabaster (whoa) image of her 'cutest butt evah' tatted with (left) a horseshoe & (right cheek) a sunflower. Great, er, work!

I told her: you're correct. Matter of fact, a  Vietnam Era deep combat veteran (BOXF, expired, RIP, having had passed several months after getting his Agent Orange disability) BOXF, Purple Heart guy etc., spoke once in awhile re: rice cakes handed out by a mamasan afore he night patrolled and prowled the jungle, (Bless you!) mamasan'd say.

BOXF corrected me as well, hon, '...no, not gooks, they were soldiers you know...'  : I stand corrected. Please note I was quoting a recruiter and, even though I referred to German 'defenders' as Krauts when we, just boys, reenacted D-Day with toy soldiers and sparking tanks on those ping-pong tables, no need to perpetuate hateful smear campaigns against those who are trying to kill you. Ironically, Eisenhower was a Quaker. Oh, may I publish a poster of your derriere? :)

And, sure, I ought to have said: Tonkin Tunnels not gook tunnels. 

Young lady, shoot me an address and I'll send 'ya a tambourine!

Comment by J.P. Hart on August 4, 2017 at 8:40am

from the What Good Are We? file:

# from Google search, War Movies: 38,400,000

# from Google search, Peace Movies: 338,000

Comment by J.P. Hart on August 4, 2017 at 7:00pm

(DARK)

9:00 p.m. CST 4/AUG/2017  

Comment by Rita Shibr on August 4, 2017 at 7:22pm

War and Peace and O'Dark thirty, Hart.  So Sorry you missed Purple Haze,  Janis and Jimmy whilst you were so savagely robbed at a campsite .. who does that?  steal from campsites.. it's just below the pale. I hope you are enjoying "Do You Know the Way to San Jose" or "Say a Little Prayer" as you tip tap on your typewrter. I can see you, I imagine you smoke, as you type kind of like you used to see characters in a movie do.  A little fan on the desk top and a little something something in a rocks glass nearby.  Carry on Hart.. 

Comment by J.P. Hart on August 6, 2017 at 8:16am

Rita Shibr Didn[t lize you'd graced Hart of the Deal with your gracious words.  Of course the moon is full, dear Rita, and 'grand slam' emotive superlatives re: that pic of your husband's Lennon stone stairway to heaven the other day.

Hey I'm back in the Eagle Eye, over due at a guitar mass, and finessing a way back home as all summer long we've been singing along loudly with JC's Sunday Morning Sidewalk right at high noon. 

Today the word's out to wear sky blue in loving tribute to Justin Evans, Jr.

I feel lost, I feel blue, but I do love you!

Comment by J.P. Hart on August 6, 2017 at 11:11am

...preciating the pm, Brister!  Concurred! Flagging Diesels is a damn good working title! 

Sorry dat Basic was as strenuous as predicted and for goshdarn sure that DI with his demerits may have over reacted, but at the high noon of it, he'll always have your back.  And for Pete's sake, let's not over do-wah  'body-weight' benchies.  Mellie and me have word & pics of a cherry Hudson in Havana, and if it's not gone after the Joe Walsh Fairfax concert, we might be able to hook up in Tampa on the way nort. 

Let me know your time frame, availability etc. 

Stay cool, buds, that's the rule:)!

Comment by J.P. Hart on August 9, 2017 at 10:52am
Comment by J.P. Hart on August 13, 2017 at 10:48am

My Gift is My Thong?

12:47, Colorado Springs, Co (kinda dusky, lovely morning)

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