snow nik looks


26 Responses to “Real”

  1. 1 Miep February 23, 2014 at 11:50 pm

    ah, and who is that? The young un cat or someone else?

    • 2 bluenred February 23, 2014 at 11:59 pm

      He is the holy innocent. He is without malice. He is of wonder. He is so beyond the acid test, he never even had to take it. He is the king. And he will dance.

      When we did the show up in Portland—to give you an idea of someone who passed—some businessman, just walkin’ around on the street, came in; we charged a buck, and for a buck you got to see us make all our noise, and the Dead make all their noise, and anything else that happened.

      This guy was in a suit, and he had an umbrella. He got the customary cup of stuff. And about midnight, you could see him really get ripped. Somebody who’d probably never been anything but drunk on beer. But he looked around, and he saw all these strange people, and he looked down, and the spotlight was showing down on him, and he saw his shadow.

      And he stands up straight, puts that umbrella over his shoulder, and he says:

      “The king walks.”


      “The king turns around.”


      “Now the king will dance.”

      • 3 Miep February 24, 2014 at 12:12 am

        I read that book like nine times in the seventies.

        The bus. You’re either on the bus or off the bus.

        • 4 bluenred February 24, 2014 at 12:28 am

          That quote is not from the Wolfe book.

          Wolfe never took, much less passed, the test.

          Wolfe was the white-suited ice-cream-man from NYC.

          Wolfe twirled his cane. Wolfe wrote shit in his notebook. And, knock-kneed, afraid, Wolfe never ate a psychedelic in his life.

          The test was never, really, passed, ever, east of the Rockies.

          The quote is from the man himself. On his porch. In the woods. He’s probably kiinda dirty. Maybe his feet stink. Remembering. Happy. Maybe a little gap-toothed. LIke he should see a dentist. Or he might get turned away from A Club. I think he might have burped. Drinking some jug wine.

          As far from Wolfe, as far from NYC, as from the Man in the Moon.

          Dark stars, we are, out west, here. Not bright lights.

  2. 5 Miep February 23, 2014 at 11:59 pm

    Also, what a lovely silhouette (spelling fail)

    One more thing: A*** and Alexa may or may not be different people, but it doesn’t really matter, because they are both gorgeous beautiful people I am going to draw sometime.

    I will draw them with their hair flaming into the winds, and with smiles on their faces, and sea creatures nestling into their shoulders.

    It’s like that.

    I started working on drawing you tonight but it turned into something more dark. I know how I want to draw you but some kind of anger got in the way.

    I got close to it at times but then it got fucked up.

    So it goes. I have a lot of paper and chalk, still.

    I know how I want to draw you. This stuff just got in the way. Damn.

    • 6 bluenred February 24, 2014 at 12:11 am

      Maybe the anger is supposed to be there.

      Or maybe it means you’re supposed to draw me, at least in part, with my favorite food. Chili peppers ; )

    • 7 Miep February 24, 2014 at 12:16 am

      Okay, gotcha.

      Anger isn’t something one can leave out of art.

      But A**** will always be in there. With or without anger.

      After all, what did A*** ever do to me other than gift me with her presence?

      Does one despise the muse?

      I think not.

      • 8 bluenred February 24, 2014 at 1:59 am

        I don’t want to be angry.

        I know that anger, these days, generates ALL of what is politics, and way too much of what we regard as “art.”

        But I think the highest places, to be flown, are all so far above, anything so ur-, and false, and knuckledragging, and pre-monolith, as anger.

        and you were standin’ there
        and you were standin’ there
        and you were standin’


        in all your revelation

        what is the price of experience
        do men buy it for a song
        or wisdom for a dance in the street

        it is bought with the price of all a man hath
        his house his wife his children

        wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy
        and in the wither’d field where the farmer plows for bread in vain

        it is an easy thing to triumph in the summer’s sun
        and in the vintage and to sing on the waggon loaded with corn

        it is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted
        to speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer

        to listen to the hungry ravens cry in wintry season
        when the red blood is fill’d with wine and with the marrow of lambs

        it is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements
        to hear the dog howl at the wintry door
        the ox in the slaughterhouse moan
        to see a god on every wind and a blessing on every blast
        to hear sounds of love in the thunderstorm
        that destroys our enemies house
        to rejoice in the blight that covers his field
        and the sickness that cuts off his children

        while our olive and vine sing and laugh round our door
        and our children bring fruits and flowers

        then the groan and the dolor are quite forgotten
        and the slave grinding at the mill
        and the captive in chains and the poor in the prison
        and the soldier in the field
        when the shattered bone hath laid him groaning
        among the happier dead

        it is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity

        thus could i sing and thus rejoice

        but it is not so with me

    • 9 Miep February 24, 2014 at 12:38 am

      I’ll keep in mind your suggestion about chile peppers. You may be right about this. I may need to draw you as hotter.Because when I try to draw you I get sucked down into dark and grey, I get sucked down into everything you are trying to fight.
      I get caught up into you as monster-victim.

      I don’t know why this is.

      I don’t think it’s about you though. I’m not happy about this. I knew what I wanted to draw and it didn’t work.

  3. 10 Rain Jeys February 24, 2014 at 12:07 am

    It’s snowing there? Wow!

    • 21 bluenred February 24, 2014 at 1:03 am

      Very, very nice, Miep. Found these men right as they analyzed, in art, what’s real.

      Before they all hightailed it out of this country. For at least three decades. Which they all did.

      Because not even goddam Moses—not even he—could navigate such a Red Sea, slyly, slimily, parted, with, on one side, such folks as Lester Maddox and George Wallace and Strom Thurmond and Richard Nixon, and, on the other, such same-souled folks as LaEscapee and TheMomCat and liberaldemdave and dallasdoc.

      tryin to make it real
      compared to what

  4. 22 Miep February 24, 2014 at 12:21 am

    Also, I’m kind of edgy because of the nuclear waste dump leak. I have people up north hassling me to throw away everything and bail.

    That’s very kind of them. I appreciate that.

    I’m just kind of edgy. That’s all.

    • 23 bluenred February 24, 2014 at 12:35 am

      There have always been people screaming that it is the end times.


      From forever and ever and ever.

      When you get into history, you find that, in every generation, in every region, there have—always—been people saying that all is over.

      About 1% of the time—say, with the Jews in Europe, circa 1939-1945—they’re right.

      The other 99% of the time, it’s sheer bollocks.

      I don’t know what kinda nuclear waste dump leak these people are claiming is going to swallow you like something outta a ’50s science-fiction film. But my instinct is that it’s not of the Real 1%.

      So: rest easy. My advice.

  5. 25 Miep February 24, 2014 at 12:59 am

    great music there, Blueness. I really enjoyed that.

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When I Worked

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