November 14, 2002
Dateline - NASA
Lonesome sundown the singer moans on Rice Radio as I blow by all the
little rice burner jap cars in my opulent 8-cylinder American sled, my
Chevy of the Dead. The I-45. Guess Texas decided some time last year
that lowering the speed limit back down to 55 on this highway would
vastly improve the, well, let's say reduce the almost palpable air
pollution down here in the lower east corner of the Lone Star State.
But as is readily apparant by a quick glance down at my speedometer and
at the cars passing me at five or ten better than my 70, the new speed
limit is utterly ignored. I'm all for air quality, but you gotta love
it when 'we the people' just out and out blanket boycott some law that
slipped through that nobody agrees with & nobody, apparantly, wanted.
Hi, my name's Jack, Jack as in phone Jack, Jack as in
Kerouac, Jack as
in i just got jacked by Sprint for every penny I had and then some. My
names's Jack K-2002. I don't have a home, I just roam and roam cuz who
can pay rent when you got a cell phone?
TheTexas Bucket Brigade. The Black eyed snakes. Sniffers.
Sniffout
them nasty chemicals. Them nasty corporate criminals, and on the front
page of the Houston Chronicle yesterday a full color above the fold
photo of "Old Sparky" and some story abut the Ride the Thunderbnolt
exhibit down at the prison. Jesus. Only in Texas. Remind me not to
graduate from cool hand Duke the online outlaw to any kinda real
criminal, and by that I mean anything that wins you an e-ticket ride on
the frikken Thunderbolt.
Morbidity is rampant in our culture, just well hiden forthe
most part,
subliminal. Tho there ain't much subliminal about an electric chair on
the front page. Got the message guys, thanks.
So Maine never sent me a title on this car following my
surrender of the
old Mass one and application for a Maine one. Gotta wonder what that
means. Like, suddenly I'm wonderin if old Don Vito Sr. didn't have
more reasons for unloading this meat wagon on me for $200. I checked
the trunk for bodies before I drove it outa Boston.
Wow. I have some badass, wicked good timing. Just rolled
right onto
the ferry, next to the last car, hell, maybe the last, and zip, up goes
the back gate with NO SMOKING emblazoned on it in letters two feet
tall. I love that. Let that be my mantra from now on. When someone
else offers to drive, I'll say, "Do you smoke?" When invited
into
someone's home, I'll ask,, "Do you smoke?" when invited into
a woman's
life, I'll definity ask, "Do you?" Cuz if you do, the answer
is NO
GRACIAS. In my vagabond travels and poet, artist life, I have had the
misfortune of hooking up again and gain with people who pollute my air.
And with every passing year, I have grown to hate it more.
On that note, let me now crack open a bottle of Lone Star
and do a
little drinking while dri.. i mean, floating, boating, ferrying...
wheee!
I think tonight i'll take the thunder brougham out on
the gulf coast
sand, do a few donuts, rip through the surf with Jack Nicolson abandon,
corvette conviction. Hell, I'm only a mile from the gulf but i'm
sitting so pretty in Stefan's bay point cottage I never leave the
house. Well, cept to walk to the end ofthe pier or row the boat out to
ride the buckin Bronco buouy or stand, as I do every night, like Ben
Franklin in a storm, my right arm outstretched toward the heavens and
the cyber sattelite gadgets what hang from their lofty star-studded
branches like so many christmas lights on a tree and get my email, and
send you these words. Yessiree. That's how it's done out here in
Rollover Bay. Reach high, reach for the Cybersky and all the wonders
of wireless communications are yours for the takin.
Tried to buy me one of them wireless modems for my cell
phone, but the
PCS store in NASA-ville said they didn't have em for my phone, not in
stock anyway,and made like "why would we bother having them in stock,
huh? They're slower than Jesus' Second Coming, 14.4 blips or whatever
they call em. Yah i know the numbers. I know that's slow but....i waaaant
one! Cuz I want the world, baby. I wanna get more than
just email out here in the heavenly forgotten sticks where i get to
hide and write maniacal gibberish while so many slave away in cubicles
and law schools and smog pools and, well you get the idea. I want to
be able to plug my computer up to the sky, too. Although wait a
minute. That ain't right. If I hafta go stand out on the roof of the
boathouse with arms outstretched just to get email, shithowdy how the
hell am i gonna get wireless web...?
I have this funny image of myself looking all Ghostbuster
like with my
CPU strapped to my back, mouse duct taped to my hip, keyboard across my
chest and lord knows where that 400 pound monitor of mine would go,
maybe in a wagon towed behind me. Boy, wouldn't old Ben Franklin get a
hoot outa that sight. Bet I'd catch a bolt of lightning a lot quicker
than he did with just that little church key on a string!
Settled in and relaxed back here at the bay house where silence is the
sweetest music. I pick up a printout of an email letter from my
compadre Scott in New Mexico. It's so pleasant reading even the most
relaxed and off-the-cuff letters from a true master of the language. I
am blessed with the aquaintance of so many talented people. I only
wish they all lived in the same state. The fish are jumping out there,
right outside my window. And the pelicans float whisperlike, zen
little white dots in the meditative dark. Soon, I will prepare my
solo meal for the night, a culinary delight selected from the finest
rusted canned foods one need no money to buy. I have 14 cans of tuna,
seven of chicken noodle soup, and many more. Drop by sometime.
Company gives one an excuse to hit the fresh shrimp stand and boil up
a
batch of creole seasoned gulf shrimp and corn on the cob. If you're a
homey, bring pills, cigars, mushrooms, peyote, something to get me off.
And if your a lady friend, plan on getting naked. Hell, everybody
should ride the Buckin Bronco Buouy, and you can't do it with clothes
on. What would be the fun in that? And once back at the cottage, plan
on staying naked. It's only fair. Writer's have to spend soooo much
time alone to do their work, and all work and no play makes Jack K a
dull.. well, let's just say I'd have much to write about if you were
naked. AND WE ARE ALLL NAKED BEFORE GOD!!! my brothers and sisters.
Go now, go hence, and of this world speak you well and truly.
Jack said that. Me, I got nothin' to say.
-His Lordship RSM the Duke of the Holy Vow of Silence
