Friday, February 26, 2010

Show Bar Ersheinung

Apparently appearing manifestly surface show, all part of a phenomenological experience involving self-transcendence, I mean, so much talk about hog virus turned out to be a lot of hog wash. Somebody got rich off the deal, selling all that vaccine. 2009, swine flu, an extraordinary popular delusion.

Upon discovering the truth, I pigged out over a hog's breakfast and then grunted my way over to the local trough for an oinking hot cup of black coffee. What did Lohbado expect to achieve? He sat down at a table in the cafe and caught a gust of strong perfume from a woman sporting a vinyl coat. Smell broke his concentration and caused Lohbado to break wind. Powerful air vents sucked away undesired odor. Olfactory irritation disappeared as fast as it happened. 

Lohbado surrendered to the soft chatter of talk in a cafe along a service road off the freeway. What was his state of mind? Sore neck, sore back, he rolled out of bed, opened the blinds, cataleptic, catatonic, catastrophe of ordinary everyday...

Loss of motivation, loss of employment, loss of a place, fall from a social situation-- expelled from the bee hive. Wander the earth, mark of Cain on the forehead, getting old, doing time. I saw two dying people in the past two months. That's an encouraging reminder that this situation will end. It's ending every instant. The thread will break, putting a stop to body/mind conundrum. 

This is part of Morono (for more details, visit the Club Morono site), the feeling of being driven without purpose. I don't even know why this is happening. Why not go back to bed and take a cat nap? Sure, go to bed. Before you know it, another day done and then you can dream through the night. The mind was unwilling and the body felt weak.

Lohbado Dialectic: negative: positive: Love your cat dog. Love your family neighbors. Love coffee. Love the freeway service road. Love the business that suffer the other side of the freeway, year after year, barely managing to survive, freeway which cut through, an artery deep in the ground, a canal open to the sky, spilling smog and noise for families and friends of those exposed to the smog and noise from the traffic artery, constantly clogged, poor circulation.

Lohbado, during the night of the choking turkey, howled in the morning like a new born baby to clear mucus from the throat. Spit and watch it roll across the sidewalk, en route to the service road cafe. Body cuts through space. Feet slap the pavement, breath takes in and gives out, mixture, gases, connection, body part of the elements. Look at signs hanging over the freeway, while approaching the cafe.

Behold the signs of the freeway. Those signs provide information and direction. They reduce confusion. Those signs are a friend to lost travelers. Thanks to traffic planners, signs with carefully chosen wording were strategically placed to maximize readability among motorists.

Break stranglehold of pop cultured good-natured trivial meandering inside strict humorless boundaries predictably placed to protect vested interest, silence discussion and override disagreement. Standardization is the word. Sign, time, ploptic, niphoric significant snoffohdoodle.

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