Gee I better Hurry up I ain’t scored in over 20 years

by stilltrucking

Posted to Stories on 2001-12-12 18:22:00

Parent message is 74167
Score? do not know much about writing. Litkicks has been a real eye opener. I used to think I knew a little about writing. Now I am sure it was vanity.
Reminded me of a quote from Lew Welch in “Gensis Angles”

Page 95

This is how I live: The alarm clock starts me. I have a hangover. I am nauseated all morning. The toothpaste frequently makes me heave. I can’t keep down orange juice,toast, and tea. I chew gum and go to my car dressed in a
suit and a tie. I fight idiots who don’t know how to drive on
a highway where thousands of cars go too fast and all the
signs, street lights, and policemen are confused and wrong.
My car is old and unresponsive. Dies frequently and whistles in its generator. At the office I do the urgent, not the important. A friend describes it as “pissing on small fires.” The meetings are not to be believed. If a tape recorder were put in the room and then transcribed everyone would
think that someone like Perelman or Bemelmans was trying to be funny. It can’t be burlesqued. It can’t be told. All day long I am humiliated by inferior people who insist that I must do something in less time than it takes, and
when I do they change it, making it only different, not better, so that I have to do it all over again in even less time. It never should have been done in the first place, anyway. Then I come home. The same idiots that can’t
drive are now as furious as I am. We try to kill each otherfor 30 minutes. Then I am home. I have a cocktail. I have 5 more. Finally I am back in the room. Dinner is served (delicious, Mary a fine cook) but I am so loaded and sick
by this time I only nibble. Very insulting to Mary. All women deserve big eaters. All men deserve to get huge girth and to pat it proudly. Then to bed with good love if I am capable. Usually I’m still in a rage and/or passing out.
The questions were all settled now, at least the literary ones. It was a question of meeting everything with the rightness and equity of being oneself, fully, in poems and letters?and life?
The end of “Chicago Poem” focuses it; what to do with his …