We’re on I-70 in Indiana stuck behind a cow truck. We could get in the other lane, but then we’d be stuck behind a truck truck. At least with this one we’ve got a little bit of scenery. You know, noses and such. Pulling behind the other 18-wheeler the only nose we can stare at is a Ford of some sort. Perhaps an Escalade? I can’t tell.
This is for Amy. Cause it sounds gross to me. Anything Monkey is just GROSS. Except for Amy’s Mokeybread of course… but this wasn’t going to be the same. One of the first performers at Church on the Rocks at the Monkeywrench in Louisville, KY. She started into a heart-ripping and very exposed tale of her Love of a friend’s red motorcycle. I think she and Scarlett were going to run away together and have some high-octane Love. Hominy and Grizz pass out percussion toys to everyone at the open mic. Heather and I proceed to make cute nuisances of ourselves. Maurice of Sudan performing on kalimba at the Church on the Rocks open mic in Louisville, KY. I still hold the Bliss’ open mic as perhaps one of the greatest examples of the breed (or perhaps a whole other breed) throughout the country. This night there were poets, musicians and storytellers and even a brief puppet show (though that was perhaps MY fault). Harmonicas, melodicas, homemade drums, Tibetan prayer drums, Native American flutes and guitars oh MY! Matthew Presley, the Bard in Blue, performing at Church on the Rocks – one of the best open mics in the country – right here in Louisville, KY. This insane vampire bunny introduced us at Church on the Rocks sunday night. It was quite enthusiastic, screaming “il YAAAAAAAAY MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” at the TOP of it’s little lungs over and over again, taking deep heaving breaths in between ilyTantrums.
We stay stuck behind the livestock despite the smell and the connotation: that by coming up behind this semi truck that we’re giving it a little bit of impetus to speed up just a little bit and shorten these animals’ Lives by minutes and inches.
Delicious Louisville, KY. Visually as well.
I’m not a vegetarian. I’m not health-conscious enough, I’m not convinced enough, not political enough and not ecologically-minded enough. I understand carbon footprints and I understand carbon monoxide – a situation first brought to my attention on Nickelodeon’s Turkey Television in stolen moments of cable television at my Grandparents’ house… I understand that certain processed foods aren’t as healthy as some less-processed foods – though my jury is still out on whether or not being a health-conscious vegetarian is really that different from being a health-conscious anythingelse-o-vore. I don’t believe in the spiritual consequences. Ingestion of dead things has occurred for quite some time and I really doubt that THAT’S the source of America’s spiritual tarnish.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Halloween CAN be kind of awesome. It can also suck depending on how much you get into the spirit of things. I must admit I’ve never really jumped in with both feet, but I DO Love the spectacle. If I could get away with just throwing a sheet over my head as the Slightly Overweight Ghost of Rockstar’s Future, that’d be great. The Great Pumpkin and its mythology is one of my favourite Charles Schulz creations. It and the Red Baron are everything worthwhile in the Peanuts mythos. They’re great family-friendly Halloweenisms too. I’m not terribly into the SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF PEOPLE side of Halloween. I like the playful side… you know… the FUN side? The part that doesn’t make you hyperventilate and make you stab the stupid kid in the rubber mask? OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
But I have no choice at this moment but to think about the moral responsibility and the right and wrong of it. I’m caught behind a cattle trailer, sitting next to a woman of Jewish descent and I have no choice but to draw comparisons. Crammed into these tiny spaces, in this case at least perhaps trusting their handlers. Nothing but a commodity. Shit cascading down the sides from one floor of the carrier to the eyes and snouts protruding from the next. The animals are stained by their own filth and the conditions are not humane.
This is getting a little edgy for my personal taste but had an element of humour that made it still sppeal to me. Get it? He’s a HEAD chef? But it does really start to take the whole thing away from being a holiday for kids and gives the whiney Bible-thumpers ammo for their “Satanic Holiday” complaints. And this is probably over the line for me. As a kid I’d NEVER have approached this house – and I wonder if a brave child is rewarded for their approach or if these houses are just doing the show part of Halloween and keep their Smarties and Kit Kats to themselves. I like the quirky and macabre stuff. Of course, geek references will alweays be a win in my book! They even had an alien egg! nd Red Shirts in the trees! Oh noes!
But they’re not human. By definition such concerns as what is or what is not humane simply don’t apply. Ironically I’m now passing a McDonald’s billboard as I think about the commoditization of these creatures. The reduction of their existence to nothing more than growth-mediums for Big Macs…. Theoretically we try not to cause them unnecessary suffering in the context of the farms and slaughterhouses in which these creatures Live and die, but “unnecessary” really refers less to possibility and more to practicality. I must admit that when it comes to this balance I feel that we can’t get the balance of HUMAN Lives right in regards to prisons and schools and security (social and physical) so what makes me think we should even START thinking about it when it comes to the dignity of bovinity…
But we seem unwilling or unable to work from the top down… starting from the bottom up we’re fortunate when our little boys don’t grow up pulling the wings off of flies. We’ve got a very, very long way to go.
My friend Divinity Rose (Queen of the Louisvillain Vaudevillain Undead Underground) and I went for a wandering down a street of Halloween decorations. It started with just a couple of houses, but now the whole street goes all-out for both Halloween and Christmas, trying to outdo one another.
Last night I went to the open mic at Zazoos. The Sub Rosa Gypsy Variety Show run by her goddessness Divinity Rose. True to form there were comedians and prestidigitators and firespinners and me. There were jokes that flew and others that fell flat. There were cheap fake magic wands and well-performed card tricks. There were excellent French fries and there was the smell of kerosene burning in the streets. Louisville is home to really, really stunning people. Beautiful and talented, Heather had decided to stay in for the night and I was left to my own devices for the night. An eclectic night of music and strangeness was just about perfect, and frankly I think I NEED a night on my own every once in a while so I can feel a little more like I’m a decent artist in my own right. I blew the lid off if’n I do say so myself and it felt good to be single-handedly in charge of blowing.
There was both a featured musician and a featured comedian for the night. Though I was curious about the former, I was secretly dreading the latter, because though funny comedians must logically start someplace, I think ONE of the places they DON’T start is “funny”. However, both acts were really good and the comedian, ___ Askew was pretty spectacular. An almost-audible CLICK as his charisma snapped into place, patter and expression and timing an order of magnitude above what you usually see on stage. It’s like you can’t even put your finger on what’s missing and then suddenly everything’s right there in front of you in one beautiful man-package. He even gave me a couple of lines to play off of (and perhaps some time I’ll wig up and try out the gangsta bless you) (and proceed to get my ass kicked) and he later gave me compliments on my own poker-face and comedic delivery.
Good night had. Don’t ask me about creepy-ass squirrels on the ceiling though. Just don’t. Or about asshole coffeeshop owners that own parrots, or about good fries backed by crap service. Or Lego zombies. Just don’t. Illinois line comes and goes, and enter the rain.
