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 20

45s on 33 – #20: “Between the Sheets (instrumental)”

Perhaps it’s because I was born a poor Southside Virginia boy with a sandpaper soul, but I never understood the allure of silk sheets, or silk pajamas (although Claire Huxtable sort of did them right in my mind for a while), or silk boxers. I understand silk boxers the least of them all, because why conceal natural nastiness within ornate finery? And that ends up being where I stand on silk sheets as well, because generally life is a nasty and somewhat ugly endeavor in which one tends to get stankified. It is impossible to be clean when slipping into bed, thus the silk is useless. In addition, hopefully there will be some nastiness in the bed as well, which also negates any premium qualities of silk sheets. And I would prefer to encourage nastiness in my life than stifle it for whatever benefit silk offers in sheet form.
As for being clean when you go to bed, that is often in my mind the defining distinguishing characteristic between shitty physical work and lazy (yet also shitty) non-physical work – when do you shower. If you shower in the morning before work, you are most likely cubicle livestock. If you shower after work, it is because you are nasty from work, and probably not comfortable polluting your home environment with the toxins of construction, so you shower immediately after work. Of course all this assumes one showers every day they work, which is kind of a privileged assumption in itself. But fuck, I’m writing words in a secret works file while sitting at a desk, because I think anybody gives a fuck what my stupid mind thinks through language. Privileged assumption is sort of my forte. And yet, I still don’t like silk sheets.

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