RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Thursday, August 27

45s on 33 – #14: “A Good Time Man Like Me Ain’t Got No Business”

I get too bogged down in bullshit all too often that I forget the entire beginning of this project, and what caused it – a jukebox sitting in a field that got plugged into a red maple tree not far from my giant pile of rocks that I’m going to buried under (somehow), which started emitting music, albeit slowed down music, one night when I was sitting out there. I hadn’t cut the field in a while, except for paths, hadn’t even chilled with the sunflowers, or taken rock offerings down to the pile of quartz altar, and that’s when everything seems to start to feel like too much. But I went down there last night, and just sat on my favorite milk crate, hearing the animals and insects of the night make their noises, looking up at a sweet moon floating over top a vast planet far larger than we pretend it’s been reduced to. Like, there are still so many corners (not really corners because they lack fences) to get lost in, shadows to dwell inside of, so many places to be what you are supposed to be. Why do make this assumption that everything is charted, everything is tracked, that we are being controlled? Billions and billions of people can’t all be controlled, it’s just not possible. The immensity of bureaucratic effort needed to even try such a thing (which they are in fact trying) is so large that even those within that bureaucracy would stop giving half a fuck, and even while you are being watched, there’s a good chance you are being poorly watched. It’s kind of like being afraid to shoplift – they might see you, but when you actually do it you realize that they mostly don’t see you. Sure, if you keep doing it, they’ll eventually see you, but you’re only going to get busted once for something you do ten times.
But that’s the other side to it – they have rules for everything, and they will selectively enforce them. All of us are illegal at any given moment, or at least it can be made to be that way. It just depends on whether they enforce their slew of legalities to the fullest extent or not. But if any of us is noticeably stepping out of line in any way that riles up the wrong bureaucratic feathers, they will put that shit in motion. Thus, dwell in shadows. You start showing your ass, and somebody’s gonna want to correct that ass. But you keep it discreet, no flaunting, you’d be surprised with what you can get away with. And it might come crumbling in on you at some point, but you have to expect devil ass world is gonna try to eventually oppress you. The trick is to keep it light, both in how you do your dirtgod, but also in how deeply you layer it. You can’t dig in your dirtgod activities as if it were legit business enterprise, because the devils will come shine a light in your shadows eventually and try to oppress. You’ve got to be able to move, weave, adapt, survive. Because fuck these devil ass devils.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Like this one.