Don Brewhaha told me: “See the inconsistent. Inspect the inconsistent. Learn the inconsistent. Embrace the inconsistent. Love the inconsistent. Be the inconsistent.”
As the sun rises over the lake’s horizon I reflect upon all that has been all that will be and all that I perceive as happening right now in the moment as the big ball off fire in the east pulls itself lazily out of the big lake that is the eastern boundary of my present domicile where I have lived most of my life except for the brief sixteen years when I lived on the southern tip of the big a lake and the sun would rise to my right and set to the left of me causing me much directional disorientation with the lake being to my north rather than to the east where it belongs when I make my Saturday morning run-on sentence along Lake MIchigan.
1. Have a break, have a Kit Kat. Like life , you’ll never know what you’ll get. But you will like it or lump it. 2. You’re never alone with a strand. Because one strand leads to another. 3. Snap! Crackle! Pop! Crash! Bang! Boom! I see you met my little friend Kit Kat. 4. The Ultimate Driving Machine is other people. They drive me crazy. So says my little friend Sartre 5. Don’t leave home without it. A camera to take forced perspective photos of those other people 6. Have it your way. That’s what Decor Galore, a Kit Kat Club exotic dancer, whispered in my ear. 7. Good to the last drop, was the recently fired parachute packer’s motto. 8. Hello Moto. The last thing Mr. Motto heard after getting caught cheating on Gogo Yubari.
You call that begging?
9. Taste the rainbow. Be the rainbow. That was something the Leprechauns would tell me back when I was a little sprout in Indiana 10. Because you’re worth it. Now where’s my change from the dollar I gave you.
In the third quarter of the last century I attended high school in this historic edifice. I know I did not appreciate it’s elegance and grandeur in my tender years. After all, back then I knew everything. So I did my four and out quick like a bunny with nary a peek around. The murals I remember. The building a puzzle. But the one section of the building that should not be spoken of was, 🎶bum bum bum🎶 The Triangle.
Much has been written about the original main building. The much ballyhooed wing additions. The murals are exquisite. The 21st Century renovation sublime. Yet through my perfunctory research I found no mention of The Triangle. That’s because even back then there were rules about The Triangle:
1 You Do Not Talk About The Triangle …
2 You Do NOT Talk About The Triangle …
Whispers of Freshmen going in and never coming out. I know for a fact there were rooms in The Triangle that you had to go to the third floor, then down to the first, then up to the second to find. In other words, there was no good way to get there from here. Who added The Triangle? Ancient alien theorists have their theories. But I have Proof!
Attention Triangle Abductees Anonymous. I suspect alien hybrid experimentation with the alien construct D.N.A., because there is an alleged twin school on the south side of Chicago called Bowen High School and …
Once upon a time, being a googly eyed romantic at heart, I might have drafted such an earnest and honest letter in cursive; while taking into account all the changes in societal norms and expectations. But now all it takes is a text,
“U up?”
(ironic punctuation added as a nod to past formalities, but by no means current common practice amongst today’s texters )
Direct and to the point. Surprisingly successful as well.
So many things to brush Teeth Hair Pets Beard Clothes Toilet Pro Tip: Best use a unique brush for each. Right tool. Right job.
Then the things to brush off Creeps Ignorance Misinformation Gossip Nastiness Lies Stinking thinking Trolls So many things to brush off. So little time. Right tool. But don’t be a tool
For expediency I painted this post with a broad; you know what. But one thing you should really brush up …
You can keep your beads and trinkets of late stage Capitalism. Give them to the yowling tongue lolling running lackey dogs of the petty bourgeoisie. I’m content with a salami on rye with a big ol dill pickle. But you best not be stingy with the mustard mon frère.