I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child. – Vladimir Nabokov
Have you ever heard anybody – yourself perhaps – say,” If I just had it to do all over again…?”
Right about there the voice trails off. Followed by a wistful sigh. Hell, it’s simply time to turn the page.
That’s really all that’s very important once you get to a certain level of spirituality.
This again with a straight face. His face is very straight.
I like to think I’ve paid my dues, I’ve learned, I’ve grown. I figured some stuff out. And one thing I figure is, we need to get away more often.
Right. I know, everybody hears that and they think, hey, not exactly breakthrough material. But it is exactly that.
Civilized man has become a trapped beast. He needs to break away. To get free. To soar to new heights. Loftier levels.
Reminds me of some grafitto I saw at Hung Far Low’s: “When you’re born, you cry out. When you’re born again, you just talk loud.”
You must be joking? Barker Ajax, a born-again?
Well, not in any organized religious sense. What I mean is, I’m brand-new. Optimistic. Full of hopefulness. Childlike with wonder and awe at the majesty of my world.
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the Wild Dog just decided to start anew.
David Cale, the monologuist, talked about it. Listen to this.
“I’m gonna take my life in my hands and shake it and shake. Till all the bad parts fall out. Till they’ve all dropped out of me. Like dead leaves shaking from a living tree. There they go. All those rotting leaves. There they go. I’ll shake and shake till only the living, the present, the alive is left. No dead leaves. No dead leaves. No past. I’ll shake off the past. Let the past get past. Let the past get past.”
That’s from Cale’s The Redthroats. He continues. “Then I realize, I’m saying what I feel. Doing what I want. I get nervous again. I’m afraid of what I might want to do. I’m scared of what will come out of my mouth. But I can’t stop. I’m being taken over by me! The me I haven’t been yet. The me I’m going to be when I start being myself. The frightened. The angry. The me that got buried in childhood. All of the me’s are all out at once. All acting and singing, asserting, saying,’ Let’s see where the future can go! Let’s see where the future can go!’”
TIME TO HIT THE FREE WAY.
I, Barker Ajax, me, I wrote that in maybe 1996. Maybe.
Odd. Very odd.
I saw where the future could go. Yes, I did.
Not always a good thing.
Went to Florida and soon became something he didn’t even recognize himself.
A chubby middle-aged insurance salesman unhappily married to a crazy woman.
In a nice house with a pool.
The ten worst years of his life.
But that’s another story.