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Archive for September, 2011

ocelot- head

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My first thirty years I spent listening to music and it was a period of great stress- I mean for my father. He wanted me to get a move on. I had a sure thing going for me. When he raised his voice I turned the volume several notches high. With trial and error I knew when the slats of the venetian blinds quivered it meant my father’s voice was drowned in general mayhem of heavy metal. I would have continued but when Michael Jackson came with his Bad album I knew I could be a rock star. Only that I had to try moon-walk and perfect my routine. Funny I vowed them all except my father.
He was nowhere to be found. It was a mystery! In the end my mom told me that he was away. ‘Away? But where?’ I asked feeling a certain anxiety as TV screen going blink while Michael Jackson walked his song. I asked Mom to tell the truth. She just avoided my eyes. The mystery deepened and later I found that he took to be an astronaut while I had filled his home with the sound of music. When he is coming home,I was anxious I should win him over. It made me feel some pricks of conscience that I let him down. I said to myself, ‘I will make me a star. My father will be sorry that he took me for a never-do-well’.
That evening I took a battered suitcase with my boom-box amplifier and a change of clothes. I went out into the street and walked into the telephone booth just as Superman would do and put on my version of Michael Jackson suit. It had every kind of button some even I had sniitched from baby sister’s teddy bear collection. Well she may be bawling her eyes out for the blind and snout-less bears in her collection but I was dressed to kill.
Seeing me come out in my working clothes the crowd made room for me. Some laughed and some took out their dark glasses to cut out the 1000 watt dazzle. I pressed the switch while the guitarist riffed in the back ground, I walked. Some steps were the easiest since I was doing them under no provocation. Then I gave the crowd a kind of performance they never expected. ‘ Michael Jackson come to life! the crowd went berserk. They crowed, they jeered and mostly they made catcalls but I could duck and swivel and sidestep when the law tried to cut in. The lip- sync went on even when the straitjacket came out of the back of the wagon. I am an artist and the show must go on!’ I murmured.
‘Wonder of wonder!’ One night cooling in the police station brought my father out and he said,’Son, you music was too loud so I took to space travel, to give my ears rest.’
I made a few steps to show my skill even as we came down the steps. ‘Now that you are here, I found me a career. I want to rock the world in some 30 steps.’
My father chose not to reply.
benny

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I used to fish whenever I had a chance. I have fished in the deep sea and in the canal behind my house whenever I had leisure and boy o boy! trouts love an angler like me. When they see my angle they know I am fishing for compliments.
No fear dearies! Had I been been less queasy about scaling or gutting myself I would have. Never mind, ethical living is what the modern world has come to.
Like Marx I thought hunting elephants in my pajamas was a good idea. Had I das Kapital I could have invested in a Winchester. In these cash strapped times one has to go with the flow and not get fancy ideas of hunting. Already I have been standing in the line for five hours and the employment is hard to come by. I hunted the other day for an employer who had his heart on the right side. I found one and he was eager to hire me without even checking my resume.
I did not have the heart to take the offer. ‘The hours are killing,’ said he,’no coffee breaks or no golden handshake.’
‘O I never pause for coffee. Except when I want to breathe.’ He took out his mobile, computed the number of pauses and giving me a dirty look, he said I was too expensive for him.
‘But I am taking next to nothing for 70 hour a week’, I spluttered. He shook his head and left me on the kerb. For the first time in my life my grin fell all askew and milk of human kindness somewhat curdled. I decided,’No more bright ideas to find a job except through the proper channel’.
Here you see I am all for ethical living. No jumping the queue or catching the media moghul Rupert Murdoch with a pie.
I intend to be a slave to ethical living. But economic slavery is alive and kicking, I know from the number of fellas who have been ass-kicked from 82 St to 43 St.There they live and have not dared to get up and go.It would fit well, like in somewhat variant version of the Sleeping Beauty, waiting for an employer in a shining armor to say the magic words,’You are hired!’
Ethical living is still alive. Ethics, forget it!
benny

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