enjoy this writing from CEE
in the free 2013 PDF file chapbook:
Champagne,
Hot Water
(click on the front cover image or the
title text to download the free PDF file)
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Champagne, Hot Water |
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Aperitif
CEE
These verses begin a journey, nonfriends. We’re on a mission. In this chap and 3 more like it, we examine The Human Condition, never far out of the ICU, with me. We do so, via a poem I once wrote (which isn’t very good). The poem is thus:
The Quartering of The Universe Into Active And Passive Principles
Booze*
Beasts of Burden
Heraldry
Death
The 4 Basic Food Groups of Existence
You shan’t learn of love’s toxicity, here. Neither shall you find the staggering and lurching of a country on the nods. As for Death, that’s your business. Either buy the corresponding chap, or obtain something; remember, shelf life’s 3 years.
This little missive is the BOOZE book. The first line of our sophomoric outline. The first food group. For many, the only one.
I’ve made it clear, I don’t buy addictions...though, I make exception, per physical dependency, when the shit has gone too far. For crack, I’m told, that’s a single use, though I’m skeptical of such hype, much as I’m skeptical of moms lifting cars off trapped kids, or valiant, “High Noon” security guard stories, where subsequent review and suspension, even in our PC age, never occurs. But, okay. Physical dependency, I nod to—the rest, you’ve chosen. This is action and reaction, nonbarpal, not gay or black or Jewish. We aren’t talking “be”, we’re talking “do”. You pick up, you chose, no less than the night I buried myself buying box jai alai quinellas until my paycheck was air and I was buttonholing a family friend. I chose to bet against the Dallas Cowboys under Landry and Ali when he could bring it, and no chance, the Reds aren’t going to sweep my fucking-Yankees....
No. I made bad judgments. Whether or not mere manufacture of liquors and liqueurs, is a bad judgment, I leave to what Hells you and your family and your friends and theirs, have experienced. But, you do make every choice of every “do”, especially those invoked in the name of “Wha’evah! Wha’evah! I’ll do what I waunt!” You being “allowed” to do so, is to me, a grand philosophical dilemma.
Here I stand, Luther; I can do no other: I Am a Prohibitionist...but, I’m also sociopathic, and as a result, my sanctimony is conflicted. Do I fight to have your choices restricted? Or, do I sit in the shadows, waiting for you, or you and you to fly off the NASCAR track of Life, into the stands? What’s more important? What satisfies most? “Prohibiting” or consequence? It’s a poser. After all, some never truly suffer appreciable consequences, just as Burt Mustin smoked until he was 758. But the other, repealed measure isn’t coming back again, not in our lifetime, so the great question which stumps me is moot, much as arguments of Truth and Beauty. And, as the question solves nothing and more detailed answers seem carping, I offer instead, nonfriends, me, as nonpartier and as dry. These poems are what one sees, experiences, takes in and learns, when one is existentialist from the cradle, yet seeks no legal recourse to dull perception. It is why I KNOW, quintessentially, that all reality is found in the personal, and that everything as verb, is personal choice. Humans, only ever make questionable ones.
As usual, my perspective herein is dark, and it is not hopeful. You might want to get bombed, as you read.
CEE, taking a pre-dawn stroll, San Francisco, CA, April 18th, 1906
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