I really want to get this going....

Each day's listing is an excerpted edit from my work. These are numbered and sub-headed for ease of read and isolation from full body of continued text. Each small excerpt is a single-themed piece culled from a much larger whole. Please follow the heading numbers down to #1, or click on 'archive'. The highest numbers are most recently posted, obviously. If so interested, for follow-up, you may contact via e-mail shown - perhaps for discussion or annotation needed.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006



The bus would take the New Jersey Turnpike whenever it left Port Authority and back then most of it still undeveloped was a hell-hole of pristine natural marshes and marshgrasses cut into here and there by warehousing truck depots refinery and power plants and all amidst this were the junked or junky remnants of old pig-farmer's houses and farms and junked cars and trucks and tractors and falling-over outbuildings which had basically all given up life sometime back in the 1940's but still lingered and no matter how much the NJ Turnpike is sung about or bragged about or romanticized over it was then and is to this day nothing but a filthy pipeline of crap careening over a vastly deadened landscape which gets no and never got any respect and any fool-hole poet or writer or songsmith who tries to convince you otherwise is a lying asshole no account jerk and the land has always been rapaciously devoured and these people are the very types who will relegate glory to a horse's hind end if there was money offered to them to do so - which of course there always is - and the political rapists and dumb-ass bureaucrats who do this all should be shot BUT nonetheless the turnpike bus traffic was quick atrocious and solitary and that alone had a lot to be said for itself and back in those days the terminal at the Port Authority NYC end was another foul pit of filth and debauchery - narrow gates for each bus marked by destination and the crowds therein jostling and pushing with peasant-skirted hippie girls from Cranford and Allentown stumbling around dazed and scruffy-bearded guys looking for deals and drug-peddlers and narcos and narcs and the cops seemed oblivious to everything except something they were TOLD about so the negative image of the shadow-world within was always able to be gotten around and the pin-ball addicts of real-life escapades and keno-players skeet-ball addicts peepshow creeps they all stood around making water and throwing up and everyone else had to walk through all that everytime everyday and it was a different world for sure than now NO plastic everything was metal NO COLOR everything was some shade of station-green and there weren't any real nutritious places to eat just the usual crap-melange of donut ham coffee and ice cream junkers ready to sell you whatever shit would get you through it all and compared to it all even the Pennsylvania Station train service was far closer to paradise in its way (new-found ruination destruction and wreckage of the old Penn Station) than this ever could be but nuns and priests rabbis and criminals doctors and scabs they all took the ride when and if they had to TRAVELING AMERICA crazy America SLEEP-DEPRIVED America cadaverous indulgent fiery fierce violent stupid dumb distracted obscure KNOW-NOTHING America.


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