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1968 - what did they do to us? And pot. Remember when you were a kid and you read the modern apocalypses like The Day of the Triffids and saw the movies like The Quiet Earth, and they answered to your aggression and hatred and you secretly wished that everyone would be annihilated and that you alone would walk the earth, enjoying its prettiness and looting? Well, enjoy; look around you; society has become so homogenised that there are barely any real people in existence. Here is some poetry. Nobody could possibly be offended by poetry, unless they're an INARTISTIC PHILISTINE. For example:
Bitch, If the 'bitch' in this couplet was offended it would show that they didn't understand art. I have composed a poem for everybody to read. It's on a topic I take very seriously indeed, and I'm not joking. It's called 'Pot - A Dialogue.'
Pot, Oh, I act lighthearted now, but in the privacy of my own bedroom . . .I'm sick of being special. Sometimes it's nice to know that I'm the only one who 'understands,' but at other times it can be a real burden. Like all heroes, I have my fatal flaw . . . dates. I eat so many dates I feel sick all the time . . . I blame pot. Now let's see what I wrote in my real diary yesterday . . . Oh it's too maudlin, but here you can read it if you want, because I want you to know that I understand 'the deepest darkest parts' - I'm here, I'm not going to make you be alone. Fuck independence!! That's the subject of my latest masterpiece. Look sorry, next time I'll write something interesting about other people. I liked the movie 'The Wedding Singer' but if I had written it, the girl who said 'You're going to get lucky tonight, Robbie,' and who was a figure of fun, would have been the Star. A tyrannical genius, a fucked up literally fucking brilliant fucker with. I am -thinking of my mother: her high cheekbones, she was drunk. (Re-reading this I hear the voice of COURTNEY LOVE-but my tyrannical genius would also be crushed.) Will I ever experience such a deep love again? I was outside the library, I saw a little boy ambling along beside his mother, he walks away a little and she says 'don't do that!' and slaps him across the side of the head, less than two real seconds later he reaches up for her hand without looking at her, that is real love. Sluts, groupies, people who don't take drugs, people who scratch records, computer science students, frisbee, those who say vindictive things, people who take drugs, hippies, people who do not long to chatter, postmodernists, artists, people who never criticise. Jealous people. Every single day I think something like 'Can dreams really come true?'
'It took him going into space for his sons to say that they loved him . . .' Wittgenstein said that he wanted to write a book of jokes that would be a philosophy book, but he had no sense of humour. In the place where I read this the quoter said, but Philosophical Investigations is a series of very dry jokes. I think I am just beginning to understand the things Wittgenstein wrote about in Philosophical Investigations, and I feel very stupid. There's no real excuse for what I've done. I love doctors and hospitals. They represent cleanliness and organisation; there are tidy trays and procedures, even if the procedure is wrong there still is one, and they are nice to you no matter how much of a jerk you are - unless you have a psychiatric problem, then they don’t know what to do. When I go to the hospital or the doctor with a purely physical problem, with no psycho-social dimension (like it’s not even for the morning after pill) I feel like I’ve accomplished something and everything goes smoothly. I have the correct thing to give them. I have the right change. ‘Will the correct change be ok?’ is a good joke. … and the Rock City Rocker index page |