Erinnert worden bin ich an eine Freundin, die ich, zusammen mit der Entscheidung diese Gemeinde meine Bleibe zu machen, auf einer Party getroffen hatte. Auf dem Dach im Julimorgengrauen mit Rundumblick — was heißt, wie einer sehen konnte, eine freie 360° Aussicht von wo auch immer — war das erste Mal, wobei ich dachte, vielleicht ist dieser Scheißsehturm, dem man auf jedem T-Shirt und Schlüsselanhänger und jeder Postkarte entgegen tritt, dagegen attraktiv. Wahrnehmungsumstände schätze ich.
Lee Evin is not the age of someone whose ears can miss the tastes of 1977. Not that he’s heard Ornette Coleman’s take on “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman”. Evin owns all of half his age in albums, though not even that really because none of them are outright his. Surely by now he’s stopped listening to the Elvis soundtrack, whose appearance in the house might be strictly down to a glut of beat up records at the drug store. Or not.There’s no accounting for taste, either good or bad, and Lee Evin’s’s determined by availability. There is radio. Where to turn the dial, dictated by curiosity or a lack of sump’m similar? Having only barely graduated from AM, the Freq Mod Album Orient is the new gatekeeper of what flows through his hair, which can’t hang higher than his earlobes.
In this neck not yet the burbs, 1977 means that in spite of the full lot of debuts, precious few of ’em Evin’ll know until the year is firmly in its dust jacket. As of the present, it’s the past in the making. Cheap Trick are as infectious as ‘ll eventually prove unavoidable, as are Talking Heads or Television to any DJ with the wherewithal to be a self-sleeved oddball, not in the middle of nothing but next to it.
Forget The Clash or Sex Pistols for a little while yet, unless it’s via TV news anchors musing weird on what’s going on in someone else’s world. Never mind Buzzcocks. Not even Bowie’s Low gets much play on the big two or three large here. After Before and After Science in December comes AOR indifference, Rumours is still getting cranked up after a year of airplay, liable to continue for years to come. Peter Gabriel’s debut solo gets spun, what with his genesis.
’77 is a foretaste; Lee Evin is not the age of himself when he’ll come to appreciate the vintage.
The Brothers Johnson are Right on Time with a reprise of recent Black history with their cover of Shuggie Otis. Even classic rock radio recognizes the supremacy of this strawberry letter. But Bootsy barely gets play even though he’s number 1, because Lee Evin heads to school the wrong direction to pick up on the vibe, spending time seeking interest on the east of the dial. On the other side of what passes for main street, only just, Bernie Worrell’s earth vibrating bass tone shimmers like a flashlight and, though you might not catch it, Herbie Hancock is all over the place.
Then of course there’s disco — say, Chic — to name a trend that will be around. Is the best that peach-fuzzed & greasy sandy-blond boys can do to buck that trend, in all their disco destroyer-ness, The Grand Illusion? Short answer: Yes, yes it is. Longer answer: The likes considered to be local lads will manage to drown out a lot with their ridin’ storms out and such. It’s a market racket, after all. Even in the Quietest Moments…
So long, 1977! He hardly knew ye.
Aus unerkennbarem Grund, ohne Hand zu Fuß. Keinen Spaß macht das Spiel, tut aber kleiner Leid.—Objet d’Art
Infolge mehrerer persönlich lästiger Unerwünschtheiten pflege ich zur Vermeidung des Weiterleitens meines Leidens eine Zumutungsverweigerung. Die Frage ob sich diese Zurückhaltung von alleine hätte entwickeln können ist begründet. Ferner ist es fair zu fragen ob die Selbstentwicklung schlichtweg als unabhängig vom Zustand zu betrachten ist. Hauptsache ist sie ist sehr laut meines Erlebens wenn gar nicht nützlich nötig ohnehin.
Sofort nach dem Erstauftritt vom ansteckungsvorangehenden Anzeichen sagte ich mir Mann! und versuchte die Unfugstellen geistig aufzuheben. Denn die sonst übersteigende Überlegungen könnten erschwerendes Zerbrechen der Geistesverfassung herbeirufen.
Tiefer denn Brachen anfügend ihre Toten nun
Wächst ‘bisschen langsam, belüge mich
Ob sexelnd Amt empor, was so immer,
Das entzweit die Furcht in Kernkälte.
Irgendwann kam dieses dennoch unfreiwillig dann massig frei durch. Emotional auch kreist ein weites- beziehungsweise Dreidrittelgefüge. Nebenfachlich, wieso fort ich wirkte und las in aber genauso unmittelbar danach kommender Stille und drang erneut. Halbierte Schachzug holt weder auf noch hinweg.
Die Zirkusmesse ist von so’m Zeugs Wellen einher gestellt—
Verschwinde! das erzwungene Tief durch Atmen!
Nach je dem Zirkus misst du bestimmt ab
Wieso spinnen, dennoch stärken, auf taube Ohren versichern?
Was heißt nicht so toll wie beim vorigen Gang?
Es nimmt mehrere Zyklen bis letzteres… fortdauernd.
Der Körper isst in alle meinen Iglus zuhaltend. Daher mindern nicht auch manchmal heteronomische Regungen von allen Zellen regierend. Weniger unbehaglich ist es vielleicht meinen Darm Oberbayern in den Kopf zu spucken. Je nach Stärke der Vergiftung können zuerst Spaaren zu Schwellen scheinbar unerträglich forthindeuten. Wichtig ist nach jeder Welle sofort wieder mit ach Vitaminen zurückzukehren, gegeben also lang, sammelnd sofach, dass der Zugang nicht zu Spüren windet. Denn sehr allmählich öfter und ein Bisschen tiefer getanzt, Abszesse brauchen eine Salbe. Die Wunde kann Abrisse zu anderen Wunden meldend ebenda fordern.
This bipartisan brotherhood brews over into mistrust the moment members don’t behave as their counterpart had hoped. This, too, is rooted in soundness, and is quite quaint. Naturally when someone who’d been friendly to you suddenly smacks you in the face you’re gonna change your opinion of them. But not least of which based on the unpredictability of the actions of others, I say these party affiliations are irrelevant.
I allude here not to the question of the discrepancies between the iterated party ideologies and their actual differences. I rather refer to the irrelevancy of the Biggest Sideshow on Earth. Warning, I’m fixin’ to make the oft fallacious “the same people who…” argument, which as a matter of course should be viewed as question begging. So don’t beg it, that is, don’t take my word for it, but seriously consider whether or not this statement is true: The same people who are salivating at every tidbit coming downwind of Robert Mueller and consequently see him as a man of integrity today would view him as a treasonous party hack the moment he were to complete his investigation without either fingering the president or prosecuting someone in his inner circle. And of course the same people who are currently calling for the president to fire Robert Mueller for abuse of power or whatever will cite in perpetuity his investigation should the president escape scot-free.
Not that every selfsame amateur constitution wonk, who learns of some new arcane statute with every related “actually” tweet from their fave professional DC policy wonk, are not willing to hold that nothing is certain and will admit in advance to whichever special investigator’s being treacherous unless he gets fired first. This is also part of the quaintness quagmire that makes up the self-image of this moment’s American. It constitutes just the latest act in the sideshow.
Every spotlighted actor in this play is a study in treachery, but not of the disloyalty to the quaint American kind. It is a treachery toward whatever potential there is for earthy human decency. But not of the civility & decorum variety, quite the contrary. The most treacherous lay claim to that mantle with the backing of decorous fanfare — a quaint contradiction if there was one, which just might be a clue as to the expedient nature of that civility in all its historic duplicity.
Quaint Americans, much like the ugly ones, are selfish. If it’s found that the current monster in the White House has nada effect on their own real lives, they’ll point out how much they care about the effect it has, or will have, on others. Given the perpetual relativist application of the evidence of such effects depending on the timing of their cause, it’s difficult for me to sympathize.
Note that the list of the greatest threats to American democracy does not include whenever the Americans manipulated or destroyed someone else’s. “Two wrongs don’t make a right” is the quaint logic moving forward, but neither does a second wrong necessarily warrant the most urgent need for correction. This is true when there is wrongdoing of relative ubiquity, particularly so when that ubiquitous wrongness is of the official institutions tasked with the correction of wrong. That’s called institutionalized corruption. There has never been a greater assurance of the end of American democracy than the partisan embracement of those institutions when it suits one’s selective fancy.
“But I can criticize both,” or “We can’t do anything about the other thing,” are a common refrain of the quaint American, often in that the wrong in question lies in the distant past or is beyond the powers of democratic citizens and their apparently expediently powerless representatives charged with confirming those who sit in the institutions.
But the institutional wrongs are quantifiable. They are individual as well as collective actions taken in any of the institutions’ names, or under one or more of their auspices, sometimes in secret. Enough of those secrets have been officially revealed such that any special investigators and prosecutors worth their weight in honor-ability or well-qualified-ness would be able to air the grievances publicly and sentence any & all the wrong doers living & dead.
Before there can be a credible account of the election of 2016, there needs to be a credible account of both of their primaries. Still of greater urgency would be for international cooperation into the investigation of the murderous manipulation and/or overthrow of the Ukraine and Libya most recently, Iraq, Somalia, Honduras, Haiti, Venezuela, and again Libya more recently as well as historically, by all means Russia in the 90s, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, and Panama in the ’80s, Chile, Ghana, Zaire, Bolivia, the Congo— hell, just about anywhere in Africa and Latin America that ever attempted autonomous democracy, socialist-ist or otherwise, and throw in Fiji, Grenada, and Jamaica, and Cuba. Naturally Iran, Guatemala, and Indonesia— I know. Pure fantasy, right?
I submit that it is more important to the survival of democracy that those institutions face a reckoning regardless of how temporally afield their transgressions lie. By comparison, the current lawless executive facing even the slightest censure from any one of those same institutions would bolster their credibility of convenience with the quaint American. The removal of the latest symptom will make them happy and might lead to that infamous fanfare, but it ain’t gonna save no democracy.
For that matter, did not the guy before the last guy undo the right-to-work union busting and trade policy and welfare reform and financial deregulation that would be sure to result in a pox-like foreclosure on his house’s historical record, or the guy before that not resist doing those things I just listed, which had done less than undo what was anyway certainly not a rip-off of the working class by the last revolutionary tv star to dodder at the desk in the ovoid room – for wouldn’t it otherwise not continually inspire the iconographic identification with the illuminated imagery channeled into its nation’s living spaces, where, as far as can be plausibly discerned, at least one chosen feed maintains its resident consumers’ credulous appetite?