Sunday, February 08, 2009
18. TALK IS CHEAP (the flower district):
What I don't exactly believe is the premise that things work on an upward curve - in fact for certain I know better - things slow down and wither and fade they lose momentum they get dispersed they become diluted and worn-over from use and inattention and it's like that now : RIGHT now : we sit around a table exchanging tales and listening to new stories maybe not heard before and I begin to realize that in some ways too all words have lost their meaning because unless I can understand and conceptualize somehow a 'premise' behind the words spoken all the rest is just pose and the literal has beneath it a grand subtext which I read as I listen - and those without the subtext just go on telling a story or presenting a position but that only somehow works for a listener who takes it all at face value and level-one so to speak but I cannot any longer do that and it is my loss for the hearing but my gain for the telling : we skirmish below like ants in a cave - with supposed big issues and huge armies but in reality still only masses of ants in a big cave within which any one ant isn't even a dot let alone a moving dot - but that's the picture -- the yellow light was on in the cross hairs of the don't walk sign - now reduced to a stupid red hand - but people walked anyway and no one cared and the cars and taxis making their ways leftward were turning nonetheless through into and across people and people either waited themselves or darted between any opportunity as it presented itself and it was all in the 'flower district' where on certain perfect Spring mornings there are some amazing fragrances and more amazing assortments of things laid out early and all across the sidewalks are blooms and blossoms and wonderful old storefronts and such and it's a wonderful and free opportunity to see some weird form of nature a'bloom in the caverned trap of big-city-nightmare stuff : of course overrun as it is by the hustlers and crooks who step in at every pass whenever they can : studio types who are looking for background color for a 'shoot' or the usual leaders of mad fashion who wish to spruce up their runways with color and light - flowers fit that expense-account bill perfectly and the single lone dope finding a rose for his girlfriend does actually have a pretty difficult time of it trying to buy just one of anything - but so what - the two guys nearby are sitting down at some avenue bar with outdoor seating and amidst all the flowers and the rush there they are both drinking some fruity drink made up to look all tropical and pretty and I'm betting it cost them at least 8 bucks each just to sit there like two flower-district chump morons talking WITH PERFECT CERTAINTY about all their words and all their meanings about last night's whatever while strollers pass by.
What I don't exactly believe is the premise that things work on an upward curve - in fact for certain I know better - things slow down and wither and fade they lose momentum they get dispersed they become diluted and worn-over from use and inattention and it's like that now : RIGHT now : we sit around a table exchanging tales and listening to new stories maybe not heard before and I begin to realize that in some ways too all words have lost their meaning because unless I can understand and conceptualize somehow a 'premise' behind the words spoken all the rest is just pose and the literal has beneath it a grand subtext which I read as I listen - and those without the subtext just go on telling a story or presenting a position but that only somehow works for a listener who takes it all at face value and level-one so to speak but I cannot any longer do that and it is my loss for the hearing but my gain for the telling : we skirmish below like ants in a cave - with supposed big issues and huge armies but in reality still only masses of ants in a big cave within which any one ant isn't even a dot let alone a moving dot - but that's the picture -- the yellow light was on in the cross hairs of the don't walk sign - now reduced to a stupid red hand - but people walked anyway and no one cared and the cars and taxis making their ways leftward were turning nonetheless through into and across people and people either waited themselves or darted between any opportunity as it presented itself and it was all in the 'flower district' where on certain perfect Spring mornings there are some amazing fragrances and more amazing assortments of things laid out early and all across the sidewalks are blooms and blossoms and wonderful old storefronts and such and it's a wonderful and free opportunity to see some weird form of nature a'bloom in the caverned trap of big-city-nightmare stuff : of course overrun as it is by the hustlers and crooks who step in at every pass whenever they can : studio types who are looking for background color for a 'shoot' or the usual leaders of mad fashion who wish to spruce up their runways with color and light - flowers fit that expense-account bill perfectly and the single lone dope finding a rose for his girlfriend does actually have a pretty difficult time of it trying to buy just one of anything - but so what - the two guys nearby are sitting down at some avenue bar with outdoor seating and amidst all the flowers and the rush there they are both drinking some fruity drink made up to look all tropical and pretty and I'm betting it cost them at least 8 bucks each just to sit there like two flower-district chump morons talking WITH PERFECT CERTAINTY about all their words and all their meanings about last night's whatever while strollers pass by.
