"Heaven has a road, but no one travels it; Hell has no gate, but men will bore through to get there."

Saturday, June 13, 2009


Beyond prescient- 20 years ahead of their time.

I met an anarchist in Tompkins Square Park he was an angry man, spinning words so dark he called for death to rich men, death to Yuppies, death to art fags, bourgeois blacks, death to landlord Jews! Kill the bankers, kill the cops, kill him her and me, kill them all for CBS, NBC, ABC, TBN, CNN, HBO, "Life At Five", MTV Spring Break Party Weekend, Sally Jesse Raphael, Geraldo, Oprah, Arsenio, Regis and Kathy Lee... And I said, "Hey, I admire your get up and go, your youthful brooding and sexually charged enthusiasm and all your other utterly na├»ve and thoroughly endearing adolescent qualities and I bet you can keep it up all night, can't you? Oh, I bet you don't even use a rubber, no you don't even use a rubber... do you? Because You think you can live forever. Or do you have this adorable and misguided notion that death is something really radical and cool but I still can help being wildly attracted to your fresh-faced uncompromised tattoo'd rebel stance and goddamn! I'd like to help you sing your tune." But I've been making friends with this here death and it seems a might too soon. And I said, "Hello death, goodbye Avenue A I'm getting tired of waiting, tired of being afraid. Joseph Campbell gave me hope and now I have been saved. So I sing, 'Hello death, goodbye Avenue A.'" Now I'm not trying to be flippant here, or irreverent, or exploitive, or sarcastic, or ironic, or post-modern, and this is not a parody. Get it? Got it? Good. I've been thinking what he told me, that it's okay to cry when we held the crystal Tina Child spent 12 Grand to buy; homeopathic mantras, fresh-squeezed wheat grass juice, doctors up in Bellevue, Doctors Salk and Suess. And it's time we'll all be going home, if you can find the way, yes, everyone is going home, going home to stay. And it's time we find a way to cope, a way to find some hope, for some it's the Bible or Buddha or Mohammed or Krishna or cheesecake or the Butthole Surfers or Giorgio Armani or Romeo Gigli and you really can't afford it but it looks so fabulous on you so why don’t you take it on home, and speaking of home, isn't it about time you move out of that East Village hellhole, the one with the Honeymooners view of the brick wall out the window because you deserve something more life affirming like a tree, or a flower, or a patch of grass, or a singing little bluebird, or maybe you just want to take your boyfriend to Europe because he's never been or quit the job you always hated or learn how to play the guitar (it's easy) or get obscenely drunk in a piano bar and sing show tunes... show tunes! ...and don’t be embarrassed, because at this point I'd rather see "Brigadoon" than "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer", or maybe you'd like to get politically active so you disrupt a Presidential press conference by shoving a 5 pound week old stalk of broccoli between those thin lying lizard lips that no one can read anyway because half the country is illiterate and the other half is apathetic including the First Lady who couldn't step just 500 feet out of the overdecorated White House to visit the goddamn Quilt or maybe you'd like to put a bullet into Jesse Helms peabrain but you know when you start thinking like that, when you start thinking like they do, then it's time to let go of the material world, so maybe you'd like to get yourself some religion 'cause, "Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way, Jesus is the Way." ...Besides, it's a lot easier to accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior when He looks like Willem DaFoe. But maybe that stuff turns you off, so you rent "Power of Myth"; it made me feel really good (for about ten minutes), or maybe you'd rather do acid and listen to Led Zeppelin... Then again, the last time I took hallucinogenic drugs was about five years ago; I took mushrooms in Joshua Tree looking for that Carlos Castaneda kind of experience. I got off, my boyfriend didn't; he fell asleep, left me alone with the TV, turned on PBS, you know what was on? ..."Berlin Alexanderplatz". So I started watching it, and you know what...? I got really bummed out. And that's when I said "No to Drugs", "No to Drugs", no no no no no to drugs, and maybe you'd like to say no to drugs too or maybe you want to join Atheists of America or the Madonna Fan Club or watch Richard Gere follow the Dali Lama around the world and then do those oh-so-Zen like movies with those oh-so-Zen like messages like, "Hey! It's fun to be a prostitute!" I can't wait to spread my legs across Hollywood Blvd. Because then maybe some rich, handsome billionaire in a Jag will come driving up and take me shopping on Rodeo Drive and that's what a woman's all about anyway, right? Sucking and shopping and sucking and shopping and sucking and shopping but hey, who am I to argue because it's the feel good movie of the summer, it's the feel good movie of the year, it's the feel good movie of the Nineties, it's the feel good movie of the Millennium, and you know what? If it puts a spring in your step and a song in your heart, well... whatever makes you happy, Whatever makes you happy, Whatever makes you happy, Whatever makes you happy, Whatever gives you hope. Even if it's a truly tasteless joke. So... Fax a manifesto. Pencil in a date. Let me know when something gives I hope it's not too late, 'cause I'm getting tired of waiting, tired of being afraid. Joseph Campbell gave me hope and now I have been saved. So I sing, "Hello death, goodbye Avenue A..."



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