=the column=

By representing the world as others have

seen it, by speaking the language that others

speak, one affirms the world that others

have made, one capitulates to the group

hypnosis.

A war would be fought over the meaning

of life. If  leisure was conquered, civilization

would turn into a prison disguised as a

pleasure dome. But if leisure was not con-

quered, it would serve as a base for a pract-

ice of freedom so explosive that no known

social order could ever satisfy it.

--Greil Marcus

A man with a python can hardly be con-

sidered pythonless. The thing you’re most

afraid of is not the thing you want to pack

for Cincinnati. If you don’t know where

you’re going your mother-in-law will  be

happy to whistle Dixie. Time waits for no

man but it’s awfully patient with  a fire

hydrant. A stop sign never says “go.”

When you come to a crossroads don’t

forget the u-turn. There’s no harm in

believing a lie if the truth is somebody’s

poodle. Sense is something you make when

you can’t make a dollar.

Our concern was not a literary school, a

renewal of expression, a modernism. At

issue is a way of life, one which will cont-

inue to pass through many explorations,

many provisional formulations, & which

itself belongs only to the provisional. We

have the advantage of no longer expecting

anything from known activities, known

individuals, & known institutions.

--Guy Debord

What I have to tell you is not complicated

because it cannot be communicated at all. 

So relax. There is nothing for you to under-

stand. Mr. Tenner had set himself up on the

boardwalk in a little booth he’d made him-

self out of cardboard, probably a refrigera-

tor box he found in a dumpster. He had it

gaily painted in various colors of cheap

tempera paint,  the washable kind used in

kindergarten, so all the previous markings

on the box were amply covered. He ran a

variation of one of those three-card-monty

games that are very popular with swindlers

and cheats on streets all over the world, ex-

cept in Mr. Tenner’s version of the game he

lost nearly as much as he won. “I like to

play an honest game,” he explained to me

once, during a break in the action. “Enables

me to better gauge my true luck just in case

I might really need to depend on it." "How

is your real luck," I asked. "Generally just

average," he said. The police kept chasing

him away all the same. If he weren’t cheat-

ing at cards, just exactly what was his game?

That's police-thinking for you.  I have to

confess, I often wondered the same thing. 

The seagulls sometimes, flying against the

wind, will hang stock-still beside you as

you walk on the boardwalk towards the

great big hangar of the video arcade, the

cacophony of the games, and the maternal

smell of warm popcorn. You feel like a mime,

miming walking on the boardwalk, going

nowhere. No one likes to be told that the

problems they’re making so much of are

largely imaginary. I’ve seen handcuffed 

people glare balefully and ignore the key

right there on the table when you point it

out to them.  There have been times in my

life when you could accuse me of talking 

about myself in this regard and I won’t say

you were wrong because even if I did you

wouldn’t believe me and I probably wouldn’t

either. The hardest part of committing suicide

is blocking out the time to do it. Then there’s 

finding a reliable means to an end. Last, but

not least, is the obstacle posed by the note,

especially if you have the misfortune to be

known as “a word person.” Your audience

has great expectations, a simple variation on

“goodbye cruel world” just won’t do. It’s a

lot of pressure and at the worst possible time.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that

a great deal of what’s kept me alive up to
now is writer’s block.