Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The clearest description I have managed so far about my blog is that it is not about cats. In general, I find predators pretty predictable while prey on the other-hand, because they live in universes of anxiety, develop more textured personalities. I also have as a writer a deft hand when it comes to making matters worse, so of course , the already panicky are ready made for me. I will try to grow this blog into an assortment of laughs, because that is what my life has mostly taught me to do. I will use the famous people I have known to get your attention and then tell you small but many times wonderful things about them. I will never name the ones I say ugly things about but I hope you will guess who they are.

Month: May, 2018

God Grows Up

My God has changed over the years.
Growing up just like me.
We needed each other more when I was little.
There were things for him to help me with.
I needed his praise and the safety of his mystery.
He seemed to like it too.
As I grew, we both got busy with other things.
I learned that terrible things happen.
Things he would not change.
It hurt him that I could not figure out why.
Sometimes people without answers hate God.
And the people who believed in him.
They resented me if I mentioned him.
It wasn’t hard to resent this.
I was learning how He feels.
Old now, I conclude He grows up inside us.
Like just another new child,
each time.
But this is hard to explain.
Because God is such a big word
To live in such a small space as me.

Keith Moon and my Mother were in love

Keith insisted the two of them had a connection.
It was awkward. The woman was my mother.
She was beautiful by any standard.
Moon started to sexualize her soon after I showed him a photograph snapped of my mother in a flowered smock, the ordinary, shapeless, tent of a day dress popularized in the fifties. It was my second North American tour with the Who. I had settled in.
It did not seem to matter to him that she was now eighty-five. Of course, that says something easily predictable about him.
Ridiculously, this did not counterbalance my discomfort. I am not anybody’s definition of a prude. I have done and seen too much, but this was my mother he was wanting.
He was smitten with her in that shy British way. He would talk to the photo like he would to prostitutes. As if he might be successful provided he played his cards just right.
He would bring mother up to me out of nowhere, regularly wanting to see the picture. The trajectory of my mother’s life and death were, looking back on it now, much the same as his, inevitable and sad. She wasn’t much nailed down either.
I saw them as hapless geese plowing deliberately into the propellers of an aircraft​ taking​ off from God’s airport. Neither the plane nor their shared psychosis was willing to alter course. They had no chance.
I loved them both. My mother more. Their broken feathers scattered all around me. Moon’s drifted over everyone.
She died conveniently between tours.
He did not often mention her after that, except to question whether I was any closer to locating a dress like the one in the photo.
Of course, in his size.

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Be Careful how you Die

It can be praiseworthy to go to your death at the hands of an enemy that you have forgiven, but it is forever unforgivable to have not recognized that he was your enemy beforehand.

Rock Stars and their math

Much of my time with The Who was spent reviewing each artist on their multiplication tables.11052438_10204162708969841_8922369639914759075_n

My right to exist Trumps your right to kill me.

Israel is in the right. They have a country. They live there. They are attacked daily by people who wear signs that say “I hate you.” Israel’s enemies bring babies to front lines so our media can have something to hurt Trump. Much of our press is too stupid to realize they live here also. Stupid and greedy.

B.B. King

Between the years of 1972 and 1991, 78% of all rock shows used B.B. King as an opening act. I saw him perform at least 22% of those times. 99% of those audiences were white, and 99.95% of them were impatient to have him leave the stage to get to the headliner. Only 45% of the headliners had ever heard of him, and the remainder adored him because they thought he made them look cool and because he came cheap. B.B King would have played to a herd of sheep if he got paid and the sheep would have been the big winners. He was the greatest of all things. A happy man.

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Pork and Goon

I am big. At all stages of my life, I was the largest and was the prey of others fun. I do not ever look at myself in mirrors. I avoid large windows that might bear my reflection as I walk by them on the street.
Clothing sizes always stopped climbing before they got to anything I could wear. I had to shop at big and tall shops. I refer to them as “pork and goon” stores.
Most races have targeted words you can’t use to describe them. Women have word combinations that are banned as well. People with physical irregularities get treated with kid gloves as though with just one word from me they will see the prominent aspect of their lives.
I have a lot in common with Black people. They get a pass on calling themselves their forbidden names. I am entitled to do so too and when I refer to myself as a “fat cow” people are palpably relieved. They will laugh and laugh. They are pleased the cat is out of the bag, and everybody is ready with their only knowledge, diet advice. I hate them for that.
I have always resented gay men. I never feel sorry for them. Fuck em’. They all have what I continuously craved more than anything else. Places to shop for clothes that might fit.

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Let your freak Flags fly

Thank God I am not gender-fluid.
The most gut-wrenching personality alteration I ever brought home to Pittsburgh was my shoulder length long hair after my freshman year in College, 1966. My parents decomposed rapidly into an intense Irish melancholy that lasted for years.
In a way, my generation gave kids today no choice but to be gender fluid. There is a stage for all of us when being different is compulsory. There was nothing left after us.
We got lucky I think.

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Lifting skirts

When I was a kid, I sent away for manuals that would tutor me on moving objects with my mind. Often they came from comic books. I intended to use this power on bullies and for lifting girl’s skirts. To my frustration, I had no success till much later.
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Easy Quizzes

Democrats enjoy gender, genital and racial politics because it most resembles the multiple choice quizzes we always hoped for in high school.

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