looking aloof, looking like an asshead, ignoring all in a prescribed social environment, minding my own, pecking away at these keys in the corner, facing away from all humanbothers, imagining that the bearded gentleman to my right is not really bearded but wearing a fake beard, as it looks conspicuously so, like Blago‘s hair, which looks like a toupee worn by a man who has plenty of hair and needs no toupee wears one anyway. something about something today. energies are vacating, drying me down with their exit, i discarded 2 televisions in the last 72 hours, one from 1991, and which absorbed more than passive gapes and instead harvested live action, live events, living breathing color! so many fine memories using that tv for public access call-ins and public television telethon harassment. having that hoary object out of my midst feels like something is gone, something more than the television or the object, something more is aloft in the sea of big garbage, the murky world of dudes driving around in vans at 3am picking up big garbage left curbside outside houses and apartments. big garbage. i remember that stuff.before bedbugs one might do what i did in 1995 and pick up a recliner chair off the top of a pile of garbage bags, take it home, sit on it, read, masturbate, receive fellatio, read more, watch television, sleep, talk on the telephone, listen to the radio, read, stare at the wall. before bedbugs one could do that with a chair found in the garbage. now, one must be careful. one must buy these chairs from reliable sources. not from movie theaters or carpeted libraries. i left the garbage-heap recliner chair behind and a few years later bought my Great Chair at Macy‘s, with money raised from sorting a mountain of quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies thrown into a bucket over a period of a year or 2. the mission-style recliner was one of the first thing i remember from new york city, seeing it in the furniture department at macys and imagining that one day i will have enough money with which to buy this
(to me) extravagantly luxurious furniture product. $1000. i bought it. it is mine. i work from tthhaat chair sometimes. a laptop table thingie lets me do this without crushing my balls, though it is not a perfect fit for the Great Chair. the laptop table. itis plastic and littered with useless frills, but it hoists the laptop 5 or 6 inches above its point of sea level, and this is enough clearance to not crush my balls, my balls, my flaccid cock and precious balls. some day i should rid my life of the Great Chair. not this week.not this year. but the purging of the furnitures of my recent pasts is both healing and hurting. i am disposing of things my mother gave me, not because she gave them to me but because they are aged beyond their usefulness, as she complained about herself for the last 12 years of her life, those years in which she begged for death but stayed alive posisbly in honor of the promise she made to me that she would neverdo what my father did, she would never blast her face away with a pistol nor would she use the more typically subtle means of suicide favored among the elderly, these methods passed along like the code of the aged, methods and means of extinguishing the force of life from this inferior vessel without compromising insurance policies or stigmatizing the surviving family with the suicide badge. other promised me never would she do that and never did she, though i know she thought about it. in the end her lungs drowned under pneumonia, a common enough demise brought on by other conditions (as i am sure she knew) for those of a certain vintage in assisted living facilities. the TV is gone. the cassette-radio is gone. the mountains of Time Inc. magazines are gone, though a forgottenly huge box of Sports Illustrateds just turned up last night. dang. i am re-arranging my environment, cleansing the space of idling memories, inviting new memories in, new lives, new futures.