Off the Road - 50

a jazz novel on a typewriter

4

15 November 2024

I suppose after the leaving of Dean there must be an accounting for the rest of the story, however short that recounting is in the scheme of things and without any consequence for my actions. I know that Dean is in California doing things that ought not to be done except that there is a need for having them done in such a timely fashion. He sent me a letter saying that Alice was pregnant, and he would make sure that if the baby was his, and he thinks that likely, that they would marry. Take five and be married. The subtext is that Alice did not forget birth control but absent-mindedly misremembered because she is like he is with a burning passion. So, Dean will be hitched to Alice for as long as she deems it necessary but that may be forever because there are very few people who match in this way. The most rest of the world would, of course, be utterly off without them, but I do not care because I will not say put anywhere near the pair of kings.

 One thing leads to another in the grand scheme of things: hear in Boston I am listening to how the Coltrane Changes spiral up and forward in a renewed line succession. My job here is satisfactory even though I do not pay too much attention to the overall picture so long as the figures are correct. In time I may go for another degree because it seems that most people zoned out at more than addition and multiplication and a little bit of division and subtraction. More than that and they acquire the knowledge of where to find someone else to do such things rather than learning it themselves. The world goes round, and enough people have the knack while the rest have the lack. It means that there is a pattern on the tubular bells that grinds on in explicit harmony and implicit counterpoint. Better that than to live and die in LA I suppose with shiny happy people.

Of course, fear is the dangling problem of what to do with Faith, because faith in Faith comes and goes like the summer wind, and it is now late autumn moving into winter. On one hand, I think that she will do well as losing the poundage and I know that she will decide to want she wants to do but I do not think she will call me until after she has decided. In some ways get is like the dream of Thomas Tallis: one does not know that it has ended tell be strings stop. And then everyone knows it is changing every day, is it good Norwegian Wood? I know that I will not go back to Washington DC because having built this city on rock enroll the devastation of pop transfigured would be more than I could bear. Just be that I got lucky and there is no way back but forward in reverse: a farewell to kings except closer to the heart.

 Until then I am walking on broken glass: unforgiving bought I see the like threw my broken window and know that the landlord will not fix it so with be leaves all glimmer, I will get one pain replaces the old one and go on with parsley, sage, rosemerry, and time.

I suppose I should tell you that I voted for Trump, not because I have any clue about policies but because I wanted to stick my middle finger up at Massachusetts and all of the people knew live here. If I had lived in Wyoming I would have voted for Harris with equal disdain. When a vote does not mean anything at all because of the sheep that you live with it is past time to reassess what you mean by democracy. Because I saw many things during this summer and none of them added up to a place where the people rule because so many of them die first. I will say a canticle for we blitz for their souls and then send them often to Jesus Christ, superstar.

Winter is coming in our subdivisions all with little houses all the same and our beds are burning. The light is growing louder yet people keep moving to the heat. It is the tail of wonderous stories in a warm winter land with no water anywhere to drink.  Maybe oil can be made refreshing and clean.

The era of Cragtime has run out, with the heavy breathing of a computer breaking the enigma machine, as if history were like the Turing of rotors and cogs fit together loosely.