One Misty Morning 1907 (Anarchy in the UK)
Well, I'm in a quandary. And I hope I can get out before nightfall. Kind of spooky around here with all these bodies floating in the marshes. And I hate the way they turn into demons if you accidentally fall in. Then there's a big fight and you're lucky to escape with your teeth intact.
Actually, I can go on for hours like this and not make a bit of sense and nobody notices because nobody's reading the blog. Why? Because I'm not writing the blog, of course.
Day after day it just sits in cyberspace while I go prune the pear tree or loll about on some hillside with a loaf of bread, a bottle of red and a beautiful babe beside me in the wilderness (that would be my Patrushka).
I just sat down to blog about the necessity of anarchism. Anarchy in the UK I called it, even though it had nothing to do with England. Just an old Sex Pistols song and I like to make those little connections. It had something to do with the horrible uselessness of all governments for anything people truly want, and how we should just ignore them and do it ourselves. Something like that. But you know what? It was turning into a rant. I could just feel it.
Who wants to read a rant by a pig? Not me. I'm supposed to write about seeking God. And the sorrow of life. And misty mornings on the coast of California a hundred years ago. And Linda Lovely and Bess Faraway and Carmen O'Shaughnessy and Lamie da Kink and all the girls I loved and still love somewhere in time. And Way Out Willy and Bear Mattson and Chet Helms and Alan Cohen and Rockin' Rodney and all my friends and pals and brothers of longtime passing youth.
I think I'm supposed to tell what happened so you can feel it too.
I might be back tomorrow. Or maybe never. I just got to get back to what counts. Maybe I'll go up to the lake and do a little fishing. Or go for a real long walk. Try to stop blabbing for a while and start listening again.
Photo by Patrushka
Labels: A Panoply of Pondering, Won't Fit In Box
posted by Christopher Newton at 8:43 AM
5 Comments:
Listening is good!
Don't fret, Mr. Pig. There is a time for everything under the sun.
C'mon Pig! It's just a dry season. Remember back when you started this little fan dance in November of '05? Rambling about Villa-Lobos (House of Wolves) and Mickey Rooney and Joanie and sheep instead of pigs? Just comments from your family and interlopers like me and Spoke? You, my friend, built a blog empire in less than 2 years. Pondering Pig is the top 10 when you Google.
So you pull weeds for a couple days, go fishing, have a couple of barley beverages maybe. It'll come back to you. Pondering and writing are just like falling off a horse. Once you've done it, you never forget how.
Don't search for the Holy Grail of particularity and miss the chailce freely offered. When you are part of the legend, you can do no wrong, only stray a while before being called back.
I've been there too, Mr. P.
Anarchy. Apropos topic.
Ever wonder how Jesus really felt when he cried out, "Why have you forsaken me?"
It's kind of like "Cool Hand Luke" (Paul Newman, 1967), after the guards have severely punished him for daring to be free. He says to his admirers:
"Oh come on! Stop beatin' it. Get out there yourself. Stop feedin' off me. Get out of here. I can't breathe. Give me some air."
Whew! The emotion. The anarchy!
The Pig is not taking any calls but asked me to tell you he's glad to hear from his old friend the.chronicler again. And also thanks to Leo and Paula for their wisdom.
By the By... A May-Day thought...
Your new quote from Sir Julian reminded me of that saying from the old cop shows..."Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt."
I saw a connection there, but what it was is somehow lost on me now.
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