Evaluating Voltage Via Vulgationism

It might be harder than it sounds cuz I’m sure it’s harder than it looks no matter who’s measured the current. In merry, Anglican England where a Man was a Mann, folks used to bring it to Jerome rather often and they were happy. “Do Wahs” and “Diddys” neither traumatized nor upset anyone perusing a document called a vulgate, as far as I know.

Then there’s Issue #150 (March 8, 2017) of Joe Carducci’s “The New Vulgate”—a dense blog built upon various violations of rock & roll, punk rock, alternative rock, oldtime (and sometimes newtime) pop radio, the decline of freeform radio, the rise of form-fit financial foolery, left-wing politics, right-wing politics, la la libertarianism, film history, factual fandangos… all the news that both mainstream and anti-mainstream press are hell bent on remaining clueless about so long as the shoes fit. It worked for Constitutionalism, Communism, Spiritualism and the new post-McCarthyism.

open_act10.1Mr. Carducci is the author of “Rock and the Pop Narcotic” and “Stone Male: Requiem for the Living Picture.” No telling if he intended it to appear but I’ll assume that an unnamed friend of mine submitted the unsolicited DaFoAC excerpt to the Vulgate, or maybe Joe just downloaded the ebook and read the damn thing. Stranger and more valiant things have happened in the literary world.

Surviving Civilization? That’s So… Wrong…

bk_cov02…since it was meant to decline. Eventually, many parts of it would decline as would body parts and their various functions. As it did, ideas evolved and books were often written. The literary world only has itself to blame for trying to validate perpetual dynamics. Without undetermined motion we are lost, be existence Titanic or Atomic.

In the midst of all this undetermined mess, I continue with “Decline and Fall of Alternative Civilization”—the novel that isn’t or perhaps shouldn’t be. I’m not attracted to perfection anymore. I guess it was a good idea at one time but all things do indeed pass. And sometimes they fall from the sky in the mid-1990s like “…an air played on the low strings of a fiddle, a viola-toned inflection, the native Irish rebelling against an unfortunate English tongue…” and “…poised on the brink of jailbreak.”

Lofty? You betcha. Improbable? Absolutely. Or maybe more like a flight attendant squeezed dry as airline crackers and “…like Icarus, blasted by wing-melting heat and fallen from grace with flight…” to be “…kicked under a pile of yesterday’s punch lines.” Hoowee! Ain’t that some kickin’ in literary pants that might be hidin’ the doodoo? Proud or not, we all have to sit on our own gamey thrones now and then.

DaFoAC is as finished as it will be. I’m OK with that. And, yes, after a hefty revision, it’s a *super-econo* ebook for awhile. Such a deal. Amazon (CHEAP!); Smashwords (FREE!); uh huh; for awhile; while it’s being pushed into its audiobook version. Uh huh; and it’ll be as optimistically wrong as literary-ness is ever gonna be.

Disclosure: I was never a Philosophy student; nor was I a college graduate who annoyed Mr. Vonnegut’s semi-colonoscopy woes. These parts of life just whacked me from elsewhere without apologizing for any wrongness. Call me crazy. You definitely can’t go wrong with that (but newfangled laws of physics’ll get ya every time).

Fearless Gobbas! O Hey!

Wheeee! The How We’ll Prompt #7/100 challenge!
A Twit-story based on the words cosmic and street;
then expanded into a 100-word poem:

Sgt. F. Fosdick’s fists fondled vinyl, see,
from the 5th and Finnegan Fine-N-Fancy-Flea.
where finicky Finches flew forth and said, “Frank!
you’ve Flipper and Fear, a’fore and a’flank!”
“Found for near free, my dear Frau Finch.
Fantastic fandangos from which ne’er did I flinch.”

But Lt. G. “Cosmic” Grant grumbled gruffly, no glee,
“Greatly goofed, this grammar! Garbled gob of graffiti!
This ‘Gaggly Gabby Gobba Gobba’? What the hey?
O, grimace! O, gag! O, great ghosts of grey!”

Fulfilling five finales, Fosdick put forth, “It doth start.”
Groaned Grant, “I agree. This street used to be smart.”

Fools? The Product? FANATICS…!!!!

dboon_nwt01Good news? Bad news?

Well, the good news is that “Decline and Fall of Alternative Civilization” officially hit the digital streets on Friday, April 1—my targeted release date. The other day I successfully uploaded the .doc file to Smashwords and, after repairing one minor glitch, today it was approved for their Premium Catalog! Deadline met! Amazon, however, will take a couple more days. I’m gonna take the weekend to fix a few things (damn these file format conversions!). I can’t worry anymore. I’ve been thru the writer’s blogs; the marketing philosophies and surveys; done the research. You can’t prepare forever… it ain’t healthy. And I’ve always reserved the right to do things wrong.

‘Tis better to announce what’s been done than to glorify over what hasn’t been.

Years ago in the music, film, video and promotions businesses, working with, under, around, between, thru and against the egos, entities, entitlements and eczemas of artistic expressions, there was always the moment when you had to let go of preparations and expectations and kick that project out on its cranky little ass. Do or die. Ready or not. On stage, in front of the camera, warts and all. So, you shit yourself publicly? It happens. But you see what the fuck you’re made of. No excuses. Otherwise you’ve wasted your and everyone else’s time.

Tonight I might drink a little whiskey. Dig out the old fiddle I ain’t played in years, see how many tunes I can remember and celebrate the birthday of Mr. D. Boon. He was no pretty boy hair-rocker, no whiny hipster, didn’t have the greatest voice, but when it was time to play he made his mark. Some of us still have bruises but that was the whole point. Thank you, my man!

(and thank you, Spot, for the photo!)

A Book? Epic Unattended Blog-alia

bk_cov02Again I let my blogtation duties lapse.

The other day’s was all the suspense I could stand, and no one else could. Mostly cuz no one else saw the showboat go by. And I’m not gonna recap it. If you missed it, it’s gone. Another splashdown into the river of self-contempt, on its way to an ocean of floating lunch trucks. What’s good for the raft is good for the stand-up paddle board.

Yes, I announced the end of the road—the impending release of the (e)book. The novel. “Decline and Fall of Alternative Civilization”—and if you didn’t hear it here first, folks, don’t worry. Had to consider the editing done and let it drop sometime, come hell or groves full of lemon trees.

Scheduled street date? April 1. Why not?


To quote Mr. Dennes Boon: “Objects, material, possessive, unreal circles, and games contradicting lies…” 

And thanks to Spot for allowing the “donation” of the photo—an image that didn’t make it into his “Sounds of Two Eyes Opening.” I’ve always liked it. He says the 4th & 5th (l-r) women are mother and daughter. Wow.

Lemmy? Lemmy. Yes. No.

The only poetry is that Lemmy graced our presence at all.
Loudly, proudly, and if you didn’t like it… tough.
It’s all I’m gonna say about that. If you think I’m shirking a writer’s duty, so be it. It doesn’t matter how many friends or enemies either of us wins or loses. Life is what you make it? No. Life is what is made. Beyond that, the decision is what to do with it. I’m not gonna argue with those who analyze or categorize or try to put music into some predetermined box of popularity.

This may be the worst thing I’ve ever written but I’ll defend it against those who ask, “Who the hell is that? Never heard of him.” It doesn’t pay to write or read too much into anything. I’ve never been a fan of Jack Daniel’s but I like my whiskey, whatever the choice of the day may happen to be. Dig?

lemmy bass

Lemmy lived.
Lemmy lives.
I’ve raised my glass.
It was never empty.

Keith Richards—72—Dec 18, 1943

keefThe USA as a nation has been obsessed with war as we know it, and the last we supposedly “won” was World War II. We sure didn’t win much (if anything) in the Korean conflict, and damn well didn’t emerge victorious from Vietnam, nor did any of the Middle East struggles go the way our warhawk politicians would have liked (with the possible exception of Desert Storm). But, no, these defeats did not bespeak failure. They demonstrated stunning examples of America’s resolve! Our willingness to fight the good fight! Make the world safe for our shining way of life! Our goodness! Our paper and tin TV shows and movies depicting our history the way it really was! Cowboys and tough-sneering heros with Bibles and guns and don’t you dare disbelieve! Hallelujah! Right? Right?

Well, I don’t mean to burst anyone’s patriotic bubble machines but when it comes to good ol’ WWII, it was actually Russia who won the European conflict. We were just there to help. Of course, we did make big bangs with the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki—there is that—so, Americans should never forget that we started the weapons-of-mass-destruction trend.

Given this proclivity to martial tendencies, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the US Gov waged its “War on Drugs,” which also failed and left taxpayers shelling out for prisons and systems to deal with poor saps bent on destroying the moral fiber of our great union with marijuana cigarettes. Oh, the depraved, working-class, substance madness. And as more and more states legalize the demon weed, we might also recognize the great success that Prohibition… wasn’t. History, folks. Not a movie.

A wise man (or maybe it was a woman) once speculated that “Louie Louie” would be the song most capable of surviving a nuclear holocaust. Being the melodic basis of 99% of Western music, I can’t think of a better historical metaphor. Parents, politicians and churches once waged war on it and rock & roll. And once again, defeat.

Meanwhile, Keith Richard’s bar chords chunk onward. As do those of Chuck Berry, Neil Young, Buddy Guy and nearly 100 years of music that created and sustain that thing called rock & roll, whatever it may continue to be. If US lawmakers and clergy had simply targeted ol’ Keef during their “Just Say No” rampage of morality, they could have lost the WOD a lot sooner, and saved the country a ton of money and humiliation.

To this, I say Yes.
Happy belated birthday, Mr. Richards!
Shall you remain the symbol of everlasting life.

“Dreams are free, motherfucker!”

watt02So says Mike Watt. It’s only easy for me to say when no one is throwing things at me or biting me in the leg or asking me to leave. I’m just trying not to make litty critty cranky neiny eeny meeny miney academi-meme-y types roll their eyes and laugh at me. I’m not on this planet to withstand such derision. I prefer my derision with nuts and raisins. No cream.

Figuring out this websitey, bloggy thing is daunting (I’m an old-schooler, OK?). Today was a crappy day for it but, damn, so far I think I did something right.