*Special note to the reader: Let this post serve as a cover page of sorts to this blog. An introduction, if you will, and my way of trying to tie all the previous posts together thematically as much as possible. Also, stay with me if old Bertram W pops up here and there. I find his character and the character of Jeeves, the Butler, to be very appealing lately, and I'm just having a little fun. Maybe I find them appealing because I have become a sort of butler or servant now, in the sense that I am often in a household, chit-chatting lightly with the homeowner and the housekeeper, and petting their dogs, etc. In other words, I am with a social class, but not of it, and I remember reading once that Dickens always found butlers to be problematic for that reason, and mistrusted them. So look out.
I could write Jeeves and Bertie out of this introduction, but I think they add a little levity, which I feel is necessary in order to counterbalance the more serious content. A technique, I guess. Also, I promise to behave and try to be less loopy. Promise.
I was touched by how a couple of readers wanted me to continue, and after much thought, I have decided to do so, and to go forward by finishing up all the stories that are not done.
It might take a while, but after that, I will forge ahead with new ones.
I come up with an idea for a story or a jingle every day, and if I am lucky enough to jot it down, I remember it.
So as I say, by now I have a lot of short stories that have to be finished, and any new stories will be done on my PC in Word, and saved for later.
The larger work, Painting Henry Ford's House, will be worked thru and finished, but maybe not on the blog, since it requires too much scrolling.
I realize that much of my stuff will be stolen or plagiarized or whatever. But I do not care anymore. I an educated and not just Poor, but deeply in Debt. A very resentful Captain Ahab maybe.
I now look out at a society I resent, and feel like attacking the white whale, and all of it's supposed icons, such as Mickey Mouse, in my writing. (Wait until my story about Artie and Ophelia's trip to Cooperstown, NY, with Ophelia's remarks on how vulgar the baseball hall of fame, and the town in general is.
They task me. They heap me.
I see celebrities picked up by the camera at the world series, and I really question the whole premise for their worth, and why they are so lavishly rewarded with wealth, while Higher Education has failed me, and I am now destroyed for life financially.
On a construction or work site, I hear the same "Classic" Rock and Roll and Pop music that I have been listening to since puberty and all day long on the radio, and I feel upset. Most times I have no choice and cannot turn it off. There is no spiritual sustenance in it. Perhaps it is just my age. But still, I ask myself: is the English Major and JD soul supposed to now turn to the words and rhythms of Lady Gaga for consolation and meaning, like a wounded fawn seeking refuge in the forest?
I look at rich sports figures, Junk food Giants, Rock and Rap stars, the never ending photo collages of people at some charity function and wanting to be seen in the back of the Dan's Papers, and all the rest of this garbage can culture, and ask why I am so poor now after having achieved a higher education, and why are they so rich?
I want to express barbarism, a word that Alan Bloom once used, and the vulgarity, like I say, of a society, and probably myself as well, that higher education has failed. And I will try to do so without using those or similar words, and with deeper feeling than those words can convey by themselves.
What can be more vulgar than a culture that traps its students in surrealistically deep debt for life?
It is easy to live in the Ivory Tower and thank your lucky stars that you do not have to deal with it, and can remark from afar. But as for me, I gotta deal with it, and try to survive, and my only defense and consolation is to write this stuff, and I do it for free. Take it from old Johnny, he has had to make adjustments, and I feel cut off and lonely much of the time, without my ex-wife, who used to tell me I am the Love of her life (and nobody has ever said that to me before or since). Too indebted and poor, and ashamed to try a dating service. Without colleagues, or the structured life that comes along with what can truly be called a "Career". I sort of wander among the general populace now, overeducated and overqualified, while still trying to find a common humanity and way to relate to all the people I meet at all levels, and constantly making downward adjustments in my speech and choice of words or language, along with its cadence and complexity.
Forgive me if I sound snobbish and judgemental . Again, and in truth, I really can wax quite lonely and sort of wistful at times. I am the guy in the white painters pants, and when I talk to people who are educated and settled, most often they are "Fronting" if that is the correct term,when they deal with me, and I dare not mention my JD, lest I make them puzzled and uncomfortable. I might mention that I "tried" College, if it has to do with one of the many anecdotal tales I am always yammering, But that's as far as I go, and I carry on with my "nice regular working guy that everyone likes" voice and persona.
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By now, I am starting to regard the term: "Intellectual Property", the Torts System, the Publishing Industry, and, among other things, maybe the entire legal system as being very tasteless and crude.
In short, an America that is now in very poor taste (even though I have lost my sense of taste and smell for good). And uncivilized. Kind of like the red-faced and crude bully character Bennet, from The Cruel Sea, by Nicholas Monsarrat (No offense to my Australian friends).
And here, I just want to say that I am not the most well read and/or erudite hack there is. (How I wish I was.) Also, I regret to say that I was never very good with hard logic, and my approach is emotional and most likely contradictory and irrational, adolescent or immature, as people will say when this is all said and done, and yeah-like some might say, "Intellectually dishonest" , "Cast in a vacuum or "Viewed in a Prisim" or any of the other intellectual cliches that the majority of the hypocritical academia use as they stuff their pockets with Student Loan easy money. Juxtapositioning" is another one Jeeves, and a big money maker, but not as big a money maker as an Anthropology Professor might make if he trips over a frostbitten foot sticking out of the snow in his backyard, belonging to a rather drowsy ice man who fortuitously turned out to be a shaman; and not only that Jeeves, a warrior priestess as well, (So I suppose that would really make the old blighter an icewoman after his sex-change, wouldn't it Jeeves?)...........
"Indeed Sir." Said Jeeves.
Like a Profess-her that is now a Profess-him what? (Or was it the other way around?)
"I would imagine so Sir." Said Jeeves.
............and....and, and leader of the tribe or clan. (Discoveries like that are much more valuable than any run-of-the-mill cave man's skull or jawbone Jeeves, and command offensively large grants from the old U--that's where the Student Loan cabbage comes in Jeeves- and a very long and lazy sabbatical dedicated to the efforts of some gleeful bloake of a Professor for some inconclusive scholarly work or something or other, which is then followed up by a shaggy dog Discovery Channel documentary, al la Al Capone's safe.
Whoop-de-do, it's all a waste of money, but the starving ex-students paid for it, so who cares right? But I gotta stop with this for now, because I'm starting to sound like an Ann Coulter book, hey Jeeves?
"I have always found my paperback copy of pithy quoteable quotes by Ann Coulter, which I always keep in my vest pocket, to be most enlightening!" Said Jeeves.
Food for the soul hey?
"Indeed Sir."
But to return Jeeves: if my work here can serve as a small stepping stone to a much better work by someone else, then maybe it will have some worth after all. For example, Lance Armstrong had unbelievably strong back-up on his outstanding team, and wouldn't have won without their support. But Lance got all the glory. As an aside, his friend George Hincapie was on the team. (I was actually in a bike race and riding right behind Hincapie years ago, in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. Hincapie was only a teenager back then, and a prodigy. I got a flat tire, and by the time I fixed it and got back in the pack, I was lapped. But what a tall and awesome presence he was and is.
Let me try to say it another way (and I came up with this just now while walking Shane past Billy Joel's motorcycle shop a few minutes ago). Lets see Jeeves.....the idea goes something like this......: After profoundly contemplating eternity, Willy tried to give the old "What Ho" on everything going on in the universe with his song "We Didn't start the Fire" I think it was called, and he did the best job he could with the intellectual tools he had. But I really think he doesn't have enough tools in his box for a proper explanation, and neither do I. I'm just trying to raise the questions maybe, and come up with a few answers if I can. I don't know Hegel, but I do know Joyce Brothers, in other words.
"Indeed Sir." Said Jeeves.
And speaking of that, I also recalled on my walk with Shane, a Philosophy class I had in College. The Professor's name was Dr. Press I think.
After the first class, I was miffed by his teachings, so I brought a tape recorder along, and recorded every word thereafter, and transcribed everything in my notebook, word for word.
From what I remember, Dr. Press covered, among other things, the Parmenides dialogues, and, not having had any exposure or experience with a philosophy class and trying to make sense of it, I tried to apply the Parmenidies dialogues to practical and current reality. Something about man as man and being paid etc. Honestly Jeeves, it was so long ago. And I can't remember what I wrote on the final exam essay, but it came back with an A+, and Dr. Press gave me a great compliment, calling me, as he pulled the paper out of the pile, "the outstanding Mr. Bertram W. Koch" and it said something similar on the paper.
Just thought I'd share all that Jeeves. And listen up teachers, and especially the Humanities teachers, I just want to say that you have the very souls of your students in your hands. Outside of that student's family, you are going to be one of the biggest influences on that kid's life. If you leave a void, in will spring Mick Jagger. If you give a compliment, provided you really mean it of course, that kid is going to remember that, and it might be the very thing he needs in shaping the course of his or her life.
If you bully and humiliate, that will have an effect as well.
Even your silence has an effect. For example, (and this is a classic example of one of the yammering tales I tell every day) I had a friend once who was very talented and bright, but he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, so he tried many different things. Anyone could tell he was an extremely talented artist, and could draw cartoons etc.
And so he went to Art School, and a week later he quit and he told my a few things about it, and I drew my own conclusion as to why he quit.
Basically, I think it had to do with a aprticular day in class when the teacher asked all the students to show examples of their work. So they did so by placing them on their desks, and the teacher walked up and down the rows viewing the art, and commenting here and there, and when she got to my friends desk, she didn't say anything and passed on.
I could be wrong, but I really that that non-action really crushed my friend's spirit a little, whereas a little bit of attention might have given him the boost he needed to stay in school.
I'm not saying to offer a compliment you don't really mean, but.......you know what I am saying.
Otherwise you might end up with a really, really pissed off Hitler. (That's a joke)
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Anyway, back to Dr. Press. His degree was from Harvard. I didn't know what I did right, or what he saw in me, and that was only one of two Philosophy classes I ever had. I did not do so well in the other class. Dr. Press always seemed distant too. Like I was viewing him through a sheer curtain or veil. Kind of like the way viewing the Pope seems.
Anyway, the best way to read this blog now is to go through past posts and look for their completion. I know it is a pain in the ass to look around among buried posts, but that is the best I can do.
If anyone has a question about a particular story and wants me to complete it, just ask.
And in the end, I'll have a complete book of Short stories, and one Novel about painting Henry Ford's House. And now that am I re-reading some of it, I'm thinking of working in an analogy to that "filthy hive" (to borrow a term from Nicholas Monsarrat) out of which fly amorphous things that make me jerk off, the Playboy Mansion. But Painting henry Ford's House is not so much about my life, as about a topic I haven't mentioned much on this blog: the lives of the invisible Americans, the Latino, and all the other day Laborers, (my personal experiences being mostly with the ones from the Mexican Panhandle) that live among us, and at the same time are a vast distance away. They have had a profound impact on me, and have touched my soul very deeply after my disastrous Law School experience. Only I know how the novel ends, and only when it is all done will I add the last few lines. I'm shaping up the approach in my head, (Borrow stylistically a tiny bit from JJ Ulysses, and throw in a dash of William Carlos W perhaps Jeeves) and I hope to work in a humble suggestion or a way to a better future in America.
Put it this way: I'm not the best "Literature Head". My efforts are really more like those of a House Painter and clawhammer banjo player trying to write a novel.
And thank you to those that follow my blog, and the Aussies, and maybe Nicole Kidman is among them :)
OK Kiddos? And, after all, Jeeves, even Yale goes to Wallmart, as evidenced by the sweatshirt I saw someone wearing there once in Riverhead, NY. I said as much too, and the person gave me a "Hmph!" (Just kidding Jeeves, I held my tongue)
We're not Lima Beans, we're Human Beans. (I didn't make that one up)
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Now I'm snapping my fingers at all the History teachers and Professors here. Listen up: The banjo can be said to be the only truly American instrument there is. It was brought here by African slaves. I think your students ought to know that about their heritage, and the first ones were made out of gourds, and then they evolved.
Anyway, I have lots and lots of songs, but unlike the writing, I do want to copyright them. If anyone can help me with that I'd appreciate it. This bell bit I'm doing is completely original and will be stolen now. I only hope I will later be allowed to play what I have invented. (That's what I mean about a screwed up system). But I can't keep giving away all my stuff, and I have lots and lots more original stuff like this.
Shane is being really patient, but we have to go out for a walk now.
-------OK, I went down and got dinner and beer. I like the bud tall boys. A six pack of the tall boys equals about eight 12 oz. beers. And all together 10 beers equals a gallon. A gallon is 128 oz. And 10 beers is almost a gallon at 120 oz. And if a pint is a pound the world around, a gallon is about 8 pounds of liquid. No wonder people get beer bellys. I get that layer of fat too, unless I lay off the beer.
Anyway, this song was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's Poem called: "The Bells". This is just a small portion of that song, and I play it in two styles of playing. The clawhammer style, which is what the mountain folk developed. (I'm not sure if the slaves used that style) and in the 3 finger Scruggs or bluegrass style, which you see here.
I saw a documentary once about Walter Winchell, and it was sad, because no one came to his funeral, except for his ex-wife or was it his daughter? I don't know. And I thought: See that! and "Well whaddya know!" And: "Ain't that sumptin!"
You can read about WW and his life if you google him, but this is just my way of paying tribute to all the journalists out there. Well...not all of them. I've always been fond of Katie Couric. A number of years back she was at the Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York, and was all dressed up in the chilly weather with a cute outfit. I think it was purple, or had a christmas-colored theme, and with a beret. And very cute, like Christmas candy or something. Maybe it was the color of her lipstick that made me want to grab her, if it was possible, and kiss her.
But I have lots more songs as I say. One for Nando, called: "Nando In The New World" and I had better brush up on it, now that I think about it, because I might forget it. It is sort of jazzy, and new I think, just like this one is.
Also a song for my late cousin who died not too long ago. The song is called: "Donald's Farm." My brother wrote it, and it lapses into very Midde Eastern sounding stuff. I can explain more about that later, but again, as I say, I will have to at least get some of this copyrighted.
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I have deleted all the drivel that was here, and an equally bad poem that I had made into a new post-a mistake, and sorry. I had a few pops or beers when I did that. Awful stuff it was.
You will notice my editing and changes from time to time, maybe even while you are reading. This blog is my scratch pad, and diary or journal, and I compose right into it. Intellectually dishonestly of course, and oh....wait a minute.....what was it? Oh yes....."Inter Alia" (another good one)
What would Jeeves say about Mick Jagger?
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