"An artist is identical with an anarchist [...] You might transpose the words anywhere. An anarchist is an artist. The man who throws a bomb is an artist, because he prefers a great moment to everything. He sees how much more valuable is one burst of blazing light, one peal of perfect thunder, than the mere common bodies of a few shapeless policemen. An artist disregards all governments, abolishes all conventions. The poet delights in disorder only."
--G.K. Chesterson from The Man Who Was Thursday
Hey ya Clats, have you read The Man Who Was Thursday yet? No, of course not. That's alright. Welcome to C.O.T. Reading Assignment #1. After reading this utterly entertaining and, actually, rather short piece of surprisingly good British fiction, you will understand 1/4 of what Church on Thursday is. Okay, maybe 1/5. You have one week to read it, agents. It shouldn't take most of you more than a day. That allows 6 days for you to locate this semi-obscure classic. Alright, on to other news.
Today I went into Yreka to run errands. Not very interesting. What was interesting is that there seem to be pockets in Yreka that are out of Karmic whack. I won't offer a condensed explanation yet...it shall have to suffice to say that there is a very noticeable shift in people's behavior from one end of Yreka to the next. For example, I go to get my truck smogged at Finwall's. The people there are very nice to me. Then, I go to DMV to get my damn truck re-registered in California. One of the people is nice, the other is a fucking fuckface (I chock that up to DMV). Then, I go to the Northern part of Yreka to procure my caffeince-addicted ass some coffee (from "Biscotti's", it's called). My coffee costs $3.75. I leave a five dollar bill with the cashier and find a seat. She makes a snide remark to the couple ordering next to the effect of "I guess he doesn't want this" (referring to my ample $1.25 tip)and slams my tip into her empty tip jar. Very interesting behavior, me thinks. Then I go to G&G hardware--in so-called Central Yreka--to purchase a few items and they are semi-kind to me, though a bit stand-offish. What has occurred to me is that I had passed through three different Karmic (for lack of a better word) zones within a, perhaps, 2 mile radius. I went from Finwalls, in South Yreka, where the people are--as one expects them to be--very decent, to North Yreka where the person in question at the so-called cafe was a notch above a prison guard in terms of politeness, to Central Yreka, where the people were somewhat in the middle of the two extremes. Does this seem weird? To encounter three extremes of politeness (nay, common decency) within an hour and a half and, maybe, two square miles. Yreka is a very fucking strange place. Maybe it's because it is one of the last vestibules of the Wild West. Maybe it's mining residue in the water. Maybe it's top-secret government experimentation akin to the MX-80 project...I don't know. Maybe the people are just socially retarded at a much higher rate per capita in Yreka. I don't know.
Anyway, if you don't live in Yreka--or have never been here--I guess you could care less. Maybe I should be more Zen about things and follow your lead. Or maybe I should call the people who are socially retarded on their socially retarded behavior...nah. I've done that. It only causes the deaths of innocent trees and people.
SOOOOOOOOO...in other news. Rex's apartment burned down. Any Murrayites who are not already privy to this information, be good little C.O.T. Agents and get Rex drunk and give him an evil hug. Love is in the air in C.O.T. land...well, maybe it's not love. Maybe it is. I don't know...but I ain't-a-gonna say who, not matter what "it" is. It just makes me happy, that's all. The A's are ever so close to toppling the stupid Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim of California of the United States of America. Go A's! If the A's lose, bad things will happen to birds and other small animals, I guarantee it.
Anyway, buckaroos, I'm rambling (as always). I will leave you with one more quote from Mr. G.K. Chesterston and the very very very important novel he wrote The Man Who Was Thursday.
"Yes, the poet will be discontented even in the streets of heaven. The poet is always in revolt."
As ever, your King of the Wild Frontier, FELIX

¶ 9:19 PM   

Evelyn Dawn said...
within the last 48 hours,Rex was seen dancing on a fifteenth story hotel window ledge,partially covered in fake blood,after I'm not sure how many rounds of car bombs. Something tells things are going to be okay.

Oh, and I have to continually refresh the page in order to get links to new blog entries to show up (on the right hand side.)I know Rhinestone Charley has been having technical difficulties, so you probably knew about it. but if not....then you know now.  

Anonymous said...
Finwall is just a really really nice guy. Plus his son is one of those gothy punky pierced makeup-wearing creative random awesome types... who usually scare people from Siskiyou County. So he doesn't judge.

~*CORINNA*~  

Post a Comment