What is the Point of Poverty! There are just four pages left in my present little peasant moleskine journal, but have I written or drawn anything worthy of transcription or publication? Dear God, the more I pack into these little journals the less might actually appear—if that is possible—to return what began as a blank page back to its original obverse emptiness!
All hail the Blog! Blog must go on! Yes, for this is not my journal anymore, but the third actual blog post to establish Global Link Sausages: You never sausage a place! A concatenation of like-minds resonating in perfect fugal dynamix! O.k., I may be reaching, yes, but that is the point, is it not? I am reaching out! We may be the 99%, but percentages don’t matter anymore because math, as-we-know-it, is over, this is the “AfterMath”.
*(Politix, all-4-1! Once & for all! May I never mention “politix” in this context again!)
Yes, the journals were almost running on “empty” by now, running on fumes, but the blog goes on to infinity, until we have our own “American Spring And All”. It’s not too late, it is merely the end of the beginning!
Spare us all from the depraved polarity of that word, “politix”! We are all so much better than this. We are all together so much more than sum of our parts! In our hearts, like William Guitarlos Williams’, “Spring and All”, it is all that we are and we who know this now, know that the jig is up… This is the purpose of this s-p-a-c-e… This is why I’ve begun this Blog, because we are tired of the nonsense of rhetoric & rivalry & road-rage of the ages… bereft of sages… or at least deaf to their circumambience.
I don’t want to get off track, though I’m not sure it is possible or even avoidable, as long as we persevere… We cannot fail to see the forests through the manhole covers and hubcaps of the city. We are here and this is our city too, not just the real estate mongers and voracious bankers and investors. This is The City, this is the Blog and I’m Jack Web. It’s all related, it’s about everything that concerns us and some things which don’t, all of it, like my favorite book of poetry this year, “The Best Of It”, by Kay Ryan. O.k. I think I veered off track, but really, check her out. She’s great!
I am sort of re-creating my journals in this effort to blog, but they’re distilled and broken-down, atomized, amalgamated, incorporated… Write now I am listening to another of my favorites: “Shing Kee” by Carl Stone from his album, “Mom’s”.
Please remain in touch… stay close, as I can only get so much of this out at a time. It feels like giving birth or something, not that eye wood no, knot that I could possibly know…
I’ve posted this now, before Post No. 2, but I don’t think it matters in the stream of things…