Bandit Notions

[the mingo]

well infrared my bitsies! You wrote it one way and I took it another. Seemed to work out in it's own way though - unlike the line in the Bob dylan song - much was revealed - much to my surprise. Was down to unemployment office the other day - my interviewer suggested I go to some woman to see about my PTSD - (!) He said he knew this woman so I asked him if she was pretty and he looked taken back and said he didn't know - now it's my turn on the perplexed merry-go-round - and I said You, a man, don't know if a woman is pretty or not?

And I'm the one who needs help?

Jack, this place fucked three ways from Sunday.

G-d bless the great state of humanity & the great state of Yew Nork !

[stilltrucking]

not much I can say about the war, I used to feel guilty about being a four f conscientious objector, but an old school bus driver I used to know in Maryland who had been on corregidor in 1942 told me not to feel guilty but to feel grateful.

I don't have much trauma in my life to deal with, but I got PFCB
everybody on studio eight got dem prefrontal cortex blues, sometimes I think evolution is fucked. why did the creator have to evolve us one of those things. We could have been happy little monkeys instead of big sad apes. Vonnegut's term for the guys he was with when he was a scout behind enemy lines in world war two. You know Mailer had one kind of make believe patrol in the jungle and he wrote such gut wrenching heroic combat novels, I have never been able to read them. Vonnegut was writing about PTSD before Vietnam ever happened.



thanks for being a cyber pal amigo, I got a long email from jimboloco he asked me to forward to his prayer carrier here on studio eight.

[the mingo]

jimbo? wow how's he doin? I ain't seen a peep from him in months here. Yeah - be grateful - be grateful everyday - pray it out, every day - these sockcuckers turn you into a can of spam without so much as one backward glance and a howdy doo boo. Tell jimbo I said hey. Thx.

[stilltrucking]

Long long email from jimboloco, he asked me to see that j read it, I don't know how he is doing steve, about the same as me I guess, sounds like he has got them prefrontal cortex blues too. Do you think he would mind if I let you read it too? You could be a prayer carrier too?

[the mingo]

Check with him, Jack, if he says it's alright I'll run with it. Thx.

[still.trucking]

I asked him, I told him I believed you are a prayer carrier also.

A feller can't have too many of those.

Elephants in my bed room again this morning.

A dead rat hanging in a tree where it landed when I threw it with a shovel like a lacrosse stick. Little saber tooth tiger brings them home as gifts. Happy for the dead rats but he kills a lot of song birds too.

I read about an eccentric English lord that stipulated in his will that he be embalmed like Lenin and that every five years his heirs have to change his underwear or lose the castle.


It it is good enough for Lenin it is good enough for Hugo too, I suppose.

[the mingo]

the egg-like coccoon
the fuckin clock...

visible humans are asking for toast as the dog licks his atomic toe raisins
the merchant bankers & lady axe murderers are asking
for a re-vision

i have no subconcious

[the mingo]

I don't have an unconscious either. At least I don't think I have. That may be the rub right there.
I hate this "on the one hand and then on the other hand" bullshit. A thing either is or it is not.

I mean I don't think I even have a head.

Legalize marijuana! That's the ticket! Bring on the Mongolians! Ya bunch a weenies!

"My Fellow Americans ... "

Whoopie pie-in-the-sky! I just love non-issues - it's where this country is really at! I mean consenting adults - right? Sure. And I don't want to be intelligent anymore either. Can't see the percentage in it. Never could. I mean Miles Davis said it all, right?

So What? Yeah.

[the mingo]

The exhausted angels seek rest under the hemlocks and maybe to eat to drink - some say they come to listen to the jazz but they are great bullshitters & some con-artists.
Some say they are going to stage a parade but the talk comes to nothing.

If one is not prepared for this kind of thing then stumbling into the grove during a gathering
can be a singular experience. Who is ever prepared for that to begin with I suppose?

It would be like being on a cruise ship that was going under and realizing it was true at the same time realizing that if you survived things would never be the same as they once were ever again.

Life is working in a convenience store/gas station for minimum wage and reading every comic book on the rack during the long night shifts.

Life is all of humanity inside Jackie Kennedy as she crawled onto the rear deck of the death car after watching the husband next to her eaten alive by bullets in less than the span of 5 seconds.

1-2-3-4-5.

1:52 a.m.
40.3 degrees
Light rain

[the mingo]

Now is the time for milk & fig newtons. All camels dash for cover. Zen has no place in Zen.

If you see ducks all in a row then you know someone has been very busy & their kitchen is liable to be a mess.

Over an extended period of time many things are possible.

I couldn't remember how to spell carnivorous. I had to look it up. All of that to be able to use it in the following sentence:

Remember, mermaids are carnivorous. You wouldn't want to meet one.
Especially in the water.

Of course it's true

[the mingo]

"The story of art whose roots lie in massacre." T of C - H. Miller

The alligator woke in the swamp. He stared at a green glass bottle not far from him. He knew this was not civilization. His mind was full of brunettes. Long ones, short ones, white teeth, yellow teeth, fully clothed, naked, walking along the street or standing at the sink doing dishes, didn't matter. He rubbed his erection against the mud on the bottom of the swamp. He pushed off and turned in a slow circle. He stared at the green glass bottle from the water. Words gathered around it. He knew there was a poem there but there were too many brunettes in his mind and they crowded everything. He looked at the bottle. He admired it for not moving, for not eating, for not breathing. If he could get free of the brunettes he could write a poem about that pale green glass, the way the mud had dried halfway up its sides. The way a dragonfly came to rest suddenly on the mouth of the bottle, completely still with the bullfrogs going off all around it. But the brunettes won and the alligator flexed his tail moving off down the channel. Out towards the endless brush and sawgrass. Out towards breakfast. The first fish he swallowed did not know it was being consumed by a creature with an erection whose mind was crowded by brunettes in the midst of which, almost lost to sight, was a green glass bottle that never moved as the sun climbed higher. The fish knew only the sting of teeth for a moment as it was swallowed whole into a wet darkness it could not swim out of.

[the mingo]

Reality, if it can be spoken of at all, is a deal between two or more crooks. There has never been an arrest. The synergy is immaculate.

Of course, this is only one way of looking at it.

[the mingo]

“Harton thought that if one squeezed humanity through a wine press, its essence would flow out as drops of policemen.” Georges Limbour


The wind is at the walls. With my eyes open I am half-asleep in order to stay connected to the unseen. The rocket is made of butter and the butter is hot. For this reason we travel the sea in undecked boats that we may be born again as boys to bend towards the earth & pick worms with our fathers. It's not that we will go fishing but that we will sell the worms to those that do.
I'll go along laying words while I have the power but I will not sweep the temple. The gods & goddesses will have to contract that work out to the temp agencies. My feet are wheels and my wheels are in the mountains and in the sea.
My work is to see how long the houses stand when the wind is at their walls.

2:15a.m.
54 degrees
rain

[the mingo]

“I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ”
― Anaïs Nin

o what a girl !

1:13 p.m.
49.8 degrees
overcast

[the mingo]

The modern mind is pure myth, facts go on forever. Electric evenings are everyone's equal but the captain's car is a kiss. You can busy the cake & prove desire & question the queen but difficulties present themselves in trying to gift box a cloud or kill heaven. The house has too many corners to fix the give and the grave is where we shake the smoke and triumph over all the mirrors.

Hope is the greatest burden. Ol' Noah broke under the strain. First thing he did when dry land appeared and he got shed of the ark & the animals was to plant a vineyard. When the grapes were ripe he pressed them out and made himself some wine. Then he took off all his clothes and got drunk in his tent. One of his sons, Ham by name, discovered him thus and went to tell his brothers. Ham was cursed for this because he had broadcast his father's shame. According to the Scriptures Ham was the father of all the Egyptians. Noah broke, Ham got cursed, & the Egyptians are with us to this day.

He ain't heavy, he's my father.


12:30 a.m.
39.2 degrees
rain