The scenario where the story of this song occurs is a locked forensic unit of a hospital attached to a large university. Four of us are sitting in the hall, watching the nurses walk up and down. Three of us had been given a shot of Haldol in the ass. They could hardly move, but they could stare. I was less medicated, but stoned enough that I couldn't really walk. I stumbled along. When a particularly attractive nurse passed, I noticed that my bench mates were drooling. I tried to walk after one woman, but I couldn't catch her. "GOT ME A SOCIAL WORKER"
ROVING REPORTER RANTS
WRITING ABOUT MYSTICS, SPIRITUAL QUESTS, GNOSTIC GOSPELS, REALIZATION (FOUNDATION EXPERIENCE) MYSTERIES INVESTIGATED, REPORTS ON THE WEIRD AND THE STRANGE,THE SAVAGE AND INANE; STAYING IN THE ZONE, OVERCOMING REPRESSIONS OF ALL KINDS - HUMOUR WHENEVER POSSIBLE...TO PENETRATE THE THIN MEMBRANE INTO THE EXISTENCE OF A DEEPER AND DARKER REALITY AND REPORT BACK TO YOU.
Sunday, December 1, 2019
GOT ME A SOCIAL WORKER 2
The scenario where the story of this song occurs is a locked forensic unit of a hospital attached to a large university. Four of us are sitting in the hall, watching the nurses walk up and down. Three of us had been given a shot of Haldol in the ass. They could hardly move, but they could stare. I was less medicated, but stoned enough that I couldn't really walk. I stumbled along. When a particularly attractive nurse passed, I noticed that my bench mates were drooling. I tried to walk after one woman, but I couldn't catch her. "GOT ME A SOCIAL WORKER"
Friday, November 29, 2019
LOOKING FOR KUNTZ
The mayor's missive:
___________________________
Now, you've got to understand I've been here a long time.
I've got my desk by mind/my window. OK, the window's plastic,
but you can still get a good idea of what's
going on outside.
I'll tell you what's going on outside...NOT
MUCH. That's what's going on.
And then Hank showed up...about five
weeks ago... I pretty much
had to take him in. No one else had the room
or the inclination...He's one of those people
who most other folk dislike on sight...
And the poor fool was too
stupid to get in out of the flies on his own...
So...
Anyway, I'm used to the place and
my life is in some kind of weird equilibrium
which I do not want any fool to fuck up.
So...
Some idiot is throwing off the
equilibrium.
I hear a noise across the bunker floor,
as if some large rodent is scratching away...
It turns out, of course, it's Hank:
"What are you looking for, you moron?" I ask him.
"Never mind," he says.
"I DO mind - you sound like the Global
Village rats... that used to climb up and down
a wire basket by my head..."
I"m looking for the MEANING!"...Hank says
to me.
"OH, oh...", is what I said.
"Do you think the "Meaning" is more in that
corner... than it is anywhere else?"
I ask him...
There was no answer.
All I could see is the strobe-like flickering of
those nasty yellow candles with black flecks in them...
Whoops.... now there's only one.
It's almost dark now. That's fine with me.
You get used to the dark up here... 24 hours a day with
no electricity... After a while you get to like the dark.
I mean, what choice do you have? What choice do any of us have?
The first couple of years were rough. But after
the 2nd year of unrelenting darkness, I got to like the
dark... The only place with light is Artie's (elegant) Bar And
Grill... now all he has is those yellow candles and a
blowtorch.
"I'm looking for my book on basic philosophy.."
says Hank.
"What's basic philosophy?" I ask him.
No sounds for fifteen minutes...once again... no light.
No interruptions in my train of through (which has
stopped being a "train" three years ago....) Now my
thoughts are more like fireflies on a balmy
evening somewhere around the 49th parallel.
( Please don't tell anybody
we ever had this conversation. )
"Well, this Basic Philosophy" book
starts off with one statement..." Hank says.
"?" I ask.
It says: "EITHER DO THIS, OR YOU'RE FUCKED!"
"Ha!" I laugh,... "That's not a bad start...
I think I like this guy... what's the author's name?
Can you read it?"
"Kuntz" Hank replies.
"So you're crawling around on your hands and
knees naked in the corner looking for Kuntz?" I ask
him, trying not to snigger.
"That's just about it," Hank says
I'm reading this guy KUNTz.
"I'll bet you are!" (Har! HaR!)
Another 15 minutes of silence passes between us.
"Makes perfect sense to me." I snicker.
"Wasn't 'Kuntz' the guy in "Heart of Darkness"
by Conrad... or "Apocalypse Now" by whojamacallit?"
No answer from the rat frantically flipping pages
in the corner of the dark bunker, corner by the headboard
of his bed... headboard that doubles as a dartboard when
we have light... right now scrabbling in the locker
in the corner - sounds like three rats, or Godforbid!...
One Big Weasel...!"
I can hear Hank panting heavily out of breath
in the dark... work on all fours is harder than it
looks... believe me, I know. I am used to all sorts
or Sordo-Circumstatial - stuff beneath the awareness
of what most people want to look at!
(????) Whether sleeping or awake. I have done shit no one even wants to dream about in his weirdest hour... let alone actively pursue in the twilight of semi-consciousness. (????)
(I have no idea what that last statement means.
But it has a certain ring to it, so I had to leave it in.)
Maybe, this is what Kuntz means when he
says, "Do it my way, or else...."
"Or else what?"
"Or else die motherfucker...." Is that it? If so,
you got to give the man credit.... if you're going to
waste your time with rational thought...
it's best to do philosophy with all the menace
you can 'mount'(word?)... manage...ministrate
All the menace you can muster!
Dear Lord, that's not the end of this story, is it?
___________________________
Now, you've got to understand I've been here a long time.
I've got my desk by mind/my window. OK, the window's plastic,
but you can still get a good idea of what's
going on outside.
I'll tell you what's going on outside...NOT
MUCH. That's what's going on.
And then Hank showed up...about five
weeks ago... I pretty much
had to take him in. No one else had the room
or the inclination...He's one of those people
who most other folk dislike on sight...
And the poor fool was too
stupid to get in out of the flies on his own...
So...
Anyway, I'm used to the place and
my life is in some kind of weird equilibrium
which I do not want any fool to fuck up.
So...
Some idiot is throwing off the
equilibrium.
I hear a noise across the bunker floor,
as if some large rodent is scratching away...
It turns out, of course, it's Hank:
"What are you looking for, you moron?" I ask him.
"Never mind," he says.
"I DO mind - you sound like the Global
Village rats... that used to climb up and down
a wire basket by my head..."
I"m looking for the MEANING!"...Hank says
to me.
"OH, oh...", is what I said.
"Do you think the "Meaning" is more in that
corner... than it is anywhere else?"
I ask him...
There was no answer.
All I could see is the strobe-like flickering of
those nasty yellow candles with black flecks in them...
Whoops.... now there's only one.
It's almost dark now. That's fine with me.
You get used to the dark up here... 24 hours a day with
no electricity... After a while you get to like the dark.
I mean, what choice do you have? What choice do any of us have?
The first couple of years were rough. But after
the 2nd year of unrelenting darkness, I got to like the
dark... The only place with light is Artie's (elegant) Bar And
Grill... now all he has is those yellow candles and a
blowtorch.
"I'm looking for my book on basic philosophy.."
says Hank.
"What's basic philosophy?" I ask him.
No sounds for fifteen minutes...once again... no light.
No interruptions in my train of through (which has
stopped being a "train" three years ago....) Now my
thoughts are more like fireflies on a balmy
evening somewhere around the 49th parallel.
( Please don't tell anybody
we ever had this conversation. )
"Well, this Basic Philosophy" book
starts off with one statement..." Hank says.
"?" I ask.
It says: "EITHER DO THIS, OR YOU'RE FUCKED!"
"Ha!" I laugh,... "That's not a bad start...
I think I like this guy... what's the author's name?
Can you read it?"
"Kuntz" Hank replies.
"So you're crawling around on your hands and
knees naked in the corner looking for Kuntz?" I ask
him, trying not to snigger.
"That's just about it," Hank says
I'm reading this guy KUNTz.
"I'll bet you are!" (Har! HaR!)
Another 15 minutes of silence passes between us.
"Makes perfect sense to me." I snicker.
"Wasn't 'Kuntz' the guy in "Heart of Darkness"
by Conrad... or "Apocalypse Now" by whojamacallit?"
No answer from the rat frantically flipping pages
in the corner of the dark bunker, corner by the headboard
of his bed... headboard that doubles as a dartboard when
we have light... right now scrabbling in the locker
in the corner - sounds like three rats, or Godforbid!...
One Big Weasel...!"
I can hear Hank panting heavily out of breath
in the dark... work on all fours is harder than it
looks... believe me, I know. I am used to all sorts
or Sordo-Circumstatial - stuff beneath the awareness
of what most people want to look at!
(????) Whether sleeping or awake. I have done shit no one even wants to dream about in his weirdest hour... let alone actively pursue in the twilight of semi-consciousness. (????)
(I have no idea what that last statement means.
But it has a certain ring to it, so I had to leave it in.)
Maybe, this is what Kuntz means when he
says, "Do it my way, or else...."
"Or else what?"
"Or else die motherfucker...." Is that it? If so,
you got to give the man credit.... if you're going to
waste your time with rational thought...
it's best to do philosophy with all the menace
you can 'mount'(word?)... manage...ministrate
All the menace you can muster!
Dear Lord, that's not the end of this story, is it?
Posted 21st November 2013 by WILLIAM MILNE
I can't even watch... Hank's got a pile of skins
and disreputable-looking blankets... I'm not one
to talk about bedding...I certainly have no "moral authority".
My bed is rarely pristine... In fact, I've been told my bed
looks "NASTY"
bbbbbb by pretty much every woman who has seen my bed
in the last decade.... years ago that would be maybe ten
gals a week ( who'd SEEN my bed, not necessary leapt
into bed with me) In the last decade, what? How many
women had seen my bed?
Three? Of course, up here... if they see my bed,
they almost never leave without "seeing" me.
They don't always have a lot of choice in the matter.
(Now...this last statement is not true - it's meant to be funny,
but I realize almost everybody will be offended by it...
so, I disavow it.)
Ten to one you haven't heard the word, "disavow"
this week... Have you?
Two Otters ( float planes)
landed on the River last year... They landed
on the wrong river, but no one in this town (village?
mini-burg?)... No one was complaining. The
planes carried three stewardesses in training...
And the pilots and three women were stumbling
up the hill.... I went down to greet them.
I had to move fast before they realized they weren't in Inuvik, Tuktoyattuk, or Normal Wells... so I led them
into Artie's Bar and Grill.
"Women," I said, "This is Artie."
"Artie.... these are women."
I don't think Artie has touched a woman in six
years, and looking in the back window of Matilda's
caravan doesn't count....
Artie's the only man in town that Matilda
refuses to have any kind of sexual relations with...
Everybody else finds some kind of relief at Matilda's...
She makes Bertie ejaculate into his shoes
by the door, but at least Bertie finds relief.
Artie has to peep in her back window...
and scurry home to do whatever he has to do...!
But now these three stewardesses in powder blue
skirts, sitting at Artie's bar , smoking with their nylon
legs crossed high up... Gulp... i felt a hot rush of blood
to my balls just writing that last paragraph!
Anyway, I was talking about my bed. I coax
one of the stewardesses into my bunker. She takes
one look at my bed and says, "Looks like someone died
in it... if you want sex with me, it's not going to
happen in that bed....Then she looks around, says:
"Matter of fact, if you want to have
sex with me, it's not going to happen in this apartment -
we'll have to do it outside!"
So that's what we did. I still have bites in
places I can't scratch.
I can only imagine where her bites are...
and I better not think about it just now - if I ever
want to finish this article.
Some of the rock up here is very smooth.
That's where I laid her down... On a smooth curved
flat stone. That's where we did the dirty deed. And
that's where she called out to her ancestors
under the voyeuristic stars.
And if the stars weren't watching,
you can bet someone else was... "Artie!"
"Beat it, Artie!"
I'm in no position to criticize
anyone's sexuality, but... that Artie... What a
pervert!
So Hank has finished making his doggie
bed in the corner... and I hear the sound of
pages turning.
"What you reading?" I ask.
"Kuntz!" is his one word reply.
"Lay some quotes on me," I say.
Hank, the erstwhile reporter
quotes: "I punch therefore I am."
(Can't argue with that)
"Only a fool writes for anything but money!"
(Not original, but nicely pugnacious)
'IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU'RE TOO CLOSE!"
If you're searching out some guy's philosophy,
it's said you're "looking for Heraclitus".... and so on.
But this guy's an offensive dickhead...
Is it really worthwhile, looking for Kuntz?
What else are we going to do up here?
Posted 22nd November 2013 by WILLIAM MILNE
Thursday, November 28, 2019
YOUR WORLD OF BEAUTY AND MERCY
Your whole world of beauty and mercy
With crystalline jewels in the
sky
Taste of clear air in the mountains
Like the five trees that fail not
in Paradise.
You give us a taste for the eternal
Help us yearn for evergreen shores
And all of the seasons diurnal
We had this much, we wanted
more
And into the twilight evening
After a deep ego death
The indigo sky at twilight
Led to enlightenment.
(C)2019 by W.G. Milne
Sunday, November 24, 2019
THE FLOWER IN THE COURTYARD - plus comments from The Gnostic Gospels Group
THE FLOWER IN THE COURTYARD
plus comments from the Gnostic Gospels Group - Facebook
1
1
the deer hunter does not
see the mountains
the ambitious man does not
see men
*
*
lusting for societal position
I did not see
the flower in the courtyard
I hurried past my own heart ***
*
2
The spring flowers, the autumn moon;
Summer breezes, winter snow.
If useless things do not clutter your mind,
You have the best days of your life. **
*
When you realise what the real is,
You will see we pass from one husk
to another
Like travellers stopping for
a night’s lodging. **
*
Only listen to the sound of
pines and cedars
When no wind stirs.
*
There are ten thousand paths to dawn
At the peak of the silver mountain. ***
*
** verse by Mumon
*** poem by WGM
compilation and poem (C)2015 by W.G. Milne
*
2
The spring flowers, the autumn moon;
Summer breezes, winter snow.
If useless things do not clutter your mind,
You have the best days of your life. **
*
When you realise what the real is,
You will see we pass from one husk
to another
to another
Like travellers stopping for
a night’s lodging. **
a night’s lodging. **
*
Only listen to the sound of
pines and cedars
pines and cedars
When no wind stirs.
*
There are ten thousand paths to dawn
At the peak of the silver mountain. ***
*
** verse by Mumon
*** poem by WGM
compilation and poem (C)2015 by W.G. Milne
Walker Ballantine
THE FLOWER IN THE COURTYARD
_______________________________________
______________________________________________
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