July 6, 2020 I just finished John Fante's 1933 Was A Bad Year. Reading it made me realize I can't write. Not with emotional impact like that anyhow. That book has it all. At 17, Dominic Molise tries to fuck his best friend's sister, he steals tools from his dad, and believes he'll be a rich southpaw pitcher within six months Caroline and I are just back from Martinez. I went into the Amtrak station there and asked the lady how far east it went She said "Chicago." I said "How long does it take, two and a half days?" She said " That's right, two and a half days." "Does this train go as far south as L.A.?" "Yes" "How long does it take?" "6 hours or 12 hours, depending." "Depending on what?" "If you want to take a bus from Bakersfield it's six hours." "How far north does it go?" "Seattle" She watched me pacin' around. I finally said "Yeah, I'm thinkin' about just getting on a train and taking off." She said "Yeah, well, there are a lot of people doing that right now" I was just checking it out. Thinking out loud. She didn't seem to mind Caroline and I were the only people in there besides a kid sitting on the floor looking at his iPhone He looked like he hadn't washed his hair or cut it in a year I don't know what to read now I'm going to open Henry Miller's Moloch, see how it makes me feel But nothing makes me laugh like John Fante I don't have any of his other books here with me right now I just watched a little news. There were fires today. One in Gilroy. One in Fairfield. And one right under the George Miller bridge at 2 pm It looks like things are heating up over a confederate monument in Downtown Shreveport
Came home from six days of bein' away Checked on the dove who's been outside my bedroom window Protectin' her eggs The last time I peeked she was gone And there were her two little fuzzy ones This past month the dove's nest comforted me Like a guardian angel the mother dove protected me Have been so down this year, out of work, no work in sight And now it's July and for some reason I just came home feeling Full of life So full of life I picked up John Fante's Full of Life At City Lights on Columbus Ah they might have to change the name of the street Because as of late Christopher Columbus is gettin' a lotta heat I gotta ask you People burnin' down statues Yeah I gotta ask you Did you knock down that statue Just after cashin' the check The Donald Trump wrote you I don't get you You go knockin' down statues Well maybe I'd join you But I got somethin' better to do For in this song I might just take the opportunity to knock down you And if I may, whoever this song is speakin' to May I suggest that your great great great great grandaddy Probably ain't no better than that man who got the plaque or the statue
Like I said, I came home walked in the door, full of life So full of life, full of optimism, knowin' everythings' gonna be alright Like I said, I came home walked in the door, full of life So full of life, full of optimism, knowin' everything' gonna be alright
But I slept alone last night and I missed you I read Henry Miller's Moloch, or This Gentile World Readin' about his days as a young boss in the telegraph world All about the racial tension in The Bowery, New York 1920s For laughs I read Fante, for confidence I read Nietzsche For the truth I read Henry
I closed the book missin' my mom and dad and my sister and her girls Feeling disconnected and adrift in this 2020 world I watched Walk Hard The Dewey Cox Story from beginning to end I rewound the part where Dewey's' brother was halved When Dewey with his machete cuts his brother in half Yeah I laughed and laughed I rewound it so many times for laughs I love when the doctor says to his parents "This is the worst case I ever seen of a kid gettin' cut in half' (Speak English doc we ain't scientists) While we were gone, I walked in circles and circles through the graveyard In a state of cogitation There are usually two deer in there, a male and a female But the last time I walked through there I saw two people fornicating Yeah fuckin' in the graveyard Hey I don't blame 'em Looks like fun, fuckin' in the graveyard Bein' young I don't blame 'em, looks like fun Fuckin' in the graveyard Bein' young
Yeah where they gonna fuck with everybody stuck in the same home And an above ground pool and a flamingo in the yard With a garden full of watermelon, squash and chard They take their fuckin' to the graveyard You ain't gonna stop nature, no you can't You can file complaints, vent your hates Let the blood boil in your veins You ain't never gonna fully stop human nature
If someone wants his fentanyl fix he will find it If somebody wants to fuck behind a gravestone They will do it And of all things god damn those people were fuckin' behind two tombstones Husband and wife Each stone engraved with a pentagram
There hasn't been a lot happenin' this year I guess If I'm singing about kids fuckin' in graveyards But I have you and your love, the two deer and now I have these three doves But I turn on the TV and all I see are the cases of obliquity If I spend too much time sittin' around sedentary I get panicky and take a few globules of melatonin to make me sleepy I hate the news, it gets me down I'm so crazy, Fox makes me laugh, CNN makes me frown Everybody's talkin' "Black Lives Matter" And now they're sayin' "Don't forget to include brown" How come when I was in New Orleans all those many years Black on black murders I told my white friends and they'd say 'and?' I told my white friends 'Hey. blacks killing blacks in New Orleans is outta hand' And they'd say 'and?' And they'd say 'and?' And they'd say 'and?' And they'd say 'and?'
And I said, hey, are you sayin' it doesn't matter Because there were drug dealin', gang bangin' or chasin' somebody' else's tang They said well all that stuff you just mentioned above is felonious I said, no, you are erroneous I always knew intuitively that black lives mattered Some kids are brought up in situations where all they know is what they see And I can see in your eyes that a kid who got shot by kid in a New Orleans' shoot out Is less important than you and me 'Cause when I used to tell you about black on black crime in New Orleans you would yawn And now you're tellin' me that Black Lives Matter on the phone keepin' me up until dawn As it never dawned on me As if this whole time I've been sitting around unobservant Not noticin' white-owned restaurants and hotels with black servers
It's not a trend I follow or information I've just come to gather Don't need to see it stenciled on a sidewalk Don't need to be reminded by Don Lemon's smirky talk Don't need to be taught by teacher's chalk
And hey if Black Lives Matter, why do you live in an all-white neighborhood in Portland Oregon? Of course your protests are peaceful Because in Oregon there are no Black People And why am I even listenin' to you Tell me about race when my girlfriend is Vietnamese That's right, when I kiss her skin It tastes sweeter than a light girl's skin Can I say that? Is that alright? If a woman can say she prefers a man to be of a certain height Or that a man with an accent is her type Can I say that a darker skin woman turns me on more than light? And maybe as I'm white I ain't supposed to speak on this Well, anyone who tells me that eats fish 'n' chips Maybe 'cause I'm white they want me to sound like 'Dear Prudence' Or John Fogerty, or Ted Nugent, or REM who met as college students Or that just me singing about the subject is impudent
I'm just trying to say I always knew that Black Lives Mattered I'm glad that in 2020 So many of you have come to gather and acknowledge that Black Lives Matter And to me it should be Blacks Lives Matters A Lot! 'Cause where would Jim Carrey be if was not for Keenan Ivory Wayans? You see what I'm sayin'? Where would boxin' be without Jack Johnson, Joe Louis and Sugar Ray Robinson? And where music be if it weren't for Robert Johnson, Louis Armstrong, James Brown, Isaac Hayes Marvin Gaye, Michael J, NWA, HR from The Bad Brains, Fats Domino, Chuck Berry Sammy Davis and Miles Davis? Where would art be without Bill Trailor and Basquiat? And where would writing be without James Baldwin, Mia Angelo And the autobiographies of Mike Tyson? And where would comedy be without Richard Pryor and Red Foxx and Garret Morris Eddie Murphy, Arsenio Hall and Martin Lawrence? And who would have guessed that the highest paid comedian In all the world's history was Kevin Hart?
So as the sun's comin' up I look next to the window at the nest At the mother dove and her young Feelin' their comfort Feelin' their detachment from this world situation Feelin' their love will continue on no matter what The political situation on the ground They are three doves and all they know is love and protection I feel their appreciation for the nook I've given them I feel their affection I open Henry Miller's book Moloch One-minute Pregosi is ebullient The next minute he is crestfallen Isn't that the way it is with all of us?
Homicide victims in New Orleans, recent trends. From the American Journal of Epidemiology, volume 128, issue 5. Data are presented on 694 criminal homicide victims killed in the city of New Orleans during four years; 1979, 1982, 1985, and 1986. The homicide rate for black males was 6.5 times higher than that for white males for the years studied. Over 70% of victims were killed by handguns. When victims were assigned to one of five socioeconomic strata, homicide rates for blacks exceeded those for whites by a factor of at least 2.5 times for each socioeconomic stratum. White victims were more likely than were black victims to be legally intoxicated at the time of death, but black victims were nearly four times more likely to have illicit drugs other than alcohol detected. During the time period investigated, there was a marked decrease in the number of victims with pentazocine and tripelennamine ("Ts and blues") detected and an abrupt increase in the number of victims with detectable phencyclidine and cocaine levels. Further studies are needed to investigate risk factors for homicide victimization so that effective intervention strategies can be employed.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
