grand prix weekend in the humble burg of one saintly peter …

an anthem from my youth
“I’ve been walking the streets at night (yeah)
Just tryin’ to get it right (a little patience) …”
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregory_Skovoroda ? who is the author?

As for expressing nobody-but-yourself in words, that means working just a little harder than anybody who isn’t a poet can possibly imagine. Why? Because nothing is quite as easy as using words like somebody else. We all of us do exactly this nearly all of the time — and whenever we do it, we’re not poets.

If, at the end of your first ten or fifteen years of fighting and working and feeling, you find you’ve written one line of one poem, you’ll be very lucky indeed.

And so my advice to all young people who wish to become poets is: do something easy, like learning how to blow up the world — unless you’re not only willing, but glad, to feel and work and fight till you die.

Does that sound dismal? It isn’t.

It’s the most wonderful life on earth.

Or so I feel.

e.e. cummings – https://www.themarginalian.org/2017/09/25/e-e-cummings-advice/

so, i walk the streets, just tryin to get it right

the poetry of the city – similar to the graffiti of the ROMAN empire as it crumbled
is the food more damaging than the graffiti? yes it is!
what is the way to a man’s heart?
through his stomach
haight – ashbury san francisco, california, united states of america
i hate – asbury [park lane] detroit (pronounced detwa), lost french city
shots fired around the world – bombs in kyiv, pfizer $$$ shots in your arm!
that’s how trauma gets passed from generation to generation
freedom! HA!
it’s a choice
free-dumb
you can’t be both free and dumb in the modern age
[unless your heart is pure? radical honesty?]
GNR again: “An’ the streets don’t change, but maybe the names (?yeah?)
i would add the new york times to ABC Action news (ABC owned by disney, who cries out [FEAR PORN] for a crusade against communism, because ww2 was so healthy for the american spirit – greatest generation!)
see the americanization of emily “war is not moral”
con-chess-ness
in esoteric christianity, the alchemical, and woods of holly (ron burgundy 2) there is also the way of the fool.
ask questions and apologize with a pure heart
and freely and openly admit when wrong
I love being wrong, it means I get to learn more about God’s creation!
I found a good church! GOOD NEWS! footnote, it is the old traditionalists in communion with the russian orthodox church … comedy is all about timing! You want to make God laugh? Make plans! the best laid plans of mice and men
SCHISM
laugh and cry,
in humility
[after yelling at a ferrari for the failure to use a turn signal prior to turning from my bicycle and almost hitting me
did I unconsciously pray for altercation? – danger]
[it was unconscious – the jet-set = those who leave if they have the opportunity, absentee land-owners, foreign plates, rich, = in the midst of everyone talking about rent, home prices, huge condos for non-locals.
the character and heart of the city, she ebbs and flows through the centuries
but there has to be a shared story, and the people must have memories
memories =/ photographs =/ stories
dolphin passing under the pier
i read somewhere that there are very few things that are irredeemable
[oh, and I love the use of the word pot – I wrote that years ago (?)]
bye-bye pot

test stories for mistakes
“It’s Science”
is that ron burgundy? or anthony [“I AM SCIENCE”] fauci?
knowledge – test (application) – wisdom
covid is not a threat I should even think about? [hypothesis]
worse case: I die [possible result]
swear to God that if i catch covid and can’t breath,
i voluntarily choose death before i will go to the hospital or even bother to get tested. [parameters]
GERONIMO
american cossacks
sometimes you just have to jump off a cliff and grow wings on the way down
morning star – venus – lucifer
crescent moon
the sun rises

end of the article [ha! turns out it was just half the time]
bonus tracks: [war and peace]

my favourite interaction: i spent a bit of time with my lovely neighbors at the presbyterian re-tire-ment home (they were selling miscellaneous things of their own collection/making)
so on one table, there were a bunch of ceramics. christmas, santa, etc. the largest piece was a lovely ceramic rooster.
my mind went dirty. so I told the lovely lady that the piece was a little too on the nose for my apt. I don’t need another big cock. Thank God she started laughing. And then teasing me. “You need this piece, or are you a Chicken!” was her last sales attempt/jive.
one of the best come backs I have ever heard.

I remember that event. I was 9 years old. Super-level boring. I was so excited for the ending though. The plan was to release a dule/pitying of doves. Yeah. Set the scene.

This event literally comes around once every 1000 years.

The doves had clipped wings, unbeknownst to the organizers. (pet shop doves?)

Moment comes. Doves don’t fly when their cages are opened.

Is there a better metaphor for the first 40 years of my life?

The impotence at such a time of importance. Ha!

THE ANSWER IS NOT “MOTHER” RUSSIA!!!

9

The answer also is not to play russian roulette:

What is the reason for danger in this scene?

Ego. Assumptions?

I’ve already played russian roulette (with covid, on my bike negotiating with steel cars)

Why play again?

words

I already know the answer.

[My last vice: information ?]

I have learned how to “be in harmony” in the world. this is for the lovely e.e. c. who helped me reach this conclusion. She was also at the rummage sale. She is a reverend and recently joined an orthodox church. She had a long poem she recited to me. I noticed her initials were the same as e.e. cummings, and she had written a book of poetry on the grieving process. So, it took me a few minutes to find the quote [near the top of the article] I had floating around my head, because I did not want to paraphrase.

Now focus on love.

time to focus on the bottom part, love.
– in service of –
location: an office across the street from the Detroit Hotel
the saintly burg of one peter
a homeless man offered me a swig of whiskey
and stated he has never seen such madness in all his travels as in St. Petersburg, Florida
i appreciated the offer, but no
I got a life to live

the power of naming:

what was my nickname in the advanced placement calculus at plymouth-salem?
Mr. Cotner called me FUBAR.
where did I get the most f’d up in saint petersburg back in the day? – not even aware of the irony!!!
the power of suggestion?

and a final re-mind-er: I’ll always have kyiv in my heart, and I can return in my mind anytime I like. It does not mean I have to physically be there.
I have my priorities, and the rest is non-essential.

It does not mean to ignore and avoid difficult topics, however.

bonus local tracks:

touche’, this one stings a bit to post at the end of this article

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