The Life Coach asked me “What are you really good at?” Because success lies in our greatest strength. The answer is not sales, interior design, carpentry, auditioning for a musical. I am good at worrying. You might consider that we are all very good at that skill, just like we are all pretty good at breathing and sleeping. But I want to be of service to the world. It’s a market economy. Will you pay me a trifle to worry for you?
No. It’s like paying me a trifle to take a shit for you. Worry is personal. Worries are an integral part of your consciousness. To be human, to know certain truths, like we’re fucked, is to worry. To be intelligent is to worry about serious issues- Global Warming. To be stupid is to worry about minuscule issues-My husband is cheating on me. If would be wonderful if another person could worry for you, but that is the role of religious fanaticism. Give it up to God, any God, who cares which God- make one up- and hand your burden to that non-enity who is birthed from worry. No worry: No God. God is an app. — God is a download- God is a technique to control your concerns. Grab his balls with all your might- just as you would grab at the last apple on the Tree of Life. Survival of the Most Holy. Look to your left and right? Who’s got the best tables at the best restaurants?
Tough on the resale value, maybe, but critical for immediate identification of your vehicle in a miles wide Walmart parking lot. Would anyone steal this car? No. Leave your keys in it. Keep the doors ajar. Will anyone hit this car, cut in front of you on the highway, ride your bumper? I guess no. Instincts prevail; stay clear of that which is suspect- the Other. Is it an aging half blind hippie behind the wheel or a lunatic with a gun? Worse yet, a frustrated artist. You’ll have room to maneuver on the road; You will own the road. Speed up, slow down, orchestrate the momentum, lead from behind. When the car finally dies, it becomes an automatic art installation- available for scrap metal- which you offer to a sculptor in exchange for a shard of the left bumper- a shard you can blow torch into a silver chandelier. A car isn’t ever just a car.
August 18th, 8pm, Pawtucket Armory,
First Floor Gallery Space, 172 Exchange Street, Pawtucket- next to Gamm Theater with Odie Tempkin on Piano. BYOB and paper cup.
Someday soon it will be cool to be old- really old, almost dead. It will be hip to be wrinkled and age spotted and creviced. Why? because everything that looks perfect will be suspect…. Life, if not experienced through a technological app, is a manipulation– from recording studios to photography, reality is a hologram- a non-truth, a sucker punch- a complete sham. We all know it but we feel we don’t have any choice but to participate. The stakes get higher, the perfection more perfect- more than perfect, unworldly, unreal, distorted, like a Disney cartoon – with the birdies singing in the trees, feathers unruffled, doing a little birdie dance across a tree limb. The birdies on the screen do not age, and they do not die. We all know better…. and soon we will crave the underbelly– the false note, the dull sunset. In order
to prepare for this cultural turn-about, I suggest reverse photoshopping-sound recording, etc. – embracing and enhancing our defects in an effort to get real. Now, excuse me while I make an appointment with a plastic surgeon.
I bought a big fake gawdy diamond ring for 59 dollars yesterday. I am visiting Sarasota, Florida and every woman in the Sarasota YMCA classes are sporting real ones, and my God, they’re huge. They’re so huge, they look fake. They look just like mine except mine, being fake, looks real. I wore it to a class this morning. You see girls? …Somebody rich loves me, too! I wear torn clothes and old sneakers and have unruly hair and wrinkles because I am SO loved that I don’t have to worry about it! I didn’t want this ring, it isn’t really me. As you can see, I don’t like ostentatious— but he gave it to me, so what can I do?! Do we think a rich man’s love is worth more than a poor man’s love? Think about it. Let’s say they both love you equally. Let’s say you love them equally. Is it possible that a rich man’s love is worth more because he probably has more options than a poor man? DOES he have more options or less? Does he fear Gold Diggers and is therefore unable to really trust a woman so in truth has less options? Why am I wearing this fake ring?? What am I communicating to myself? That I would feel more worthy if a rich man loved me? Why might that be? I resent wealthy people. They embarrass me. Well, this ring looks good and it feels good, fake or not.
I can always tell which friends have happy marriages. I am included, not shunned. Invited into their home, an open door policy, I am allowed to watch a football game with the husband while the wife attends to a pot roast. It isn’t that I’m more attractive than other friends…no,for some reason, these wives just don’t trust me…Little do they know that I am revolted by their husbands, even the best looking of the bunch, because they’re husbands. Husbands have never turned me on. Men, in my mind, resemble eunuchs when they become husbands. I have never slept with a married man except my ex-husband, and that was bad enough. One good friend whispered to me once, at a cocktail party, “If you ever touch my husband, I’ll kill you.” I never touched him… but he touched somebody else, so there you have it.
I don’t want to take a bus to Stop and Shop. I don’t want to wait for a bus to take me to Stop and Shop. I don’t want to go to a bus station. I don’t want to stand at a bus stop. I will never take a bus to Stop and Shop, get it? I am a snob. I drive a car. I have a car. Well, I HAD a car. I will somehow have a car again, like tomorrow. Somehow. I have an illusion to maintain and that illusion includes a car. Any car, as long as it runs. I’ve had a car since I was 17. I had a car in New York, where very few people have or want cars. I had a car instead of an apartment once. I’d rather have a car than a bed. I get in the car, parked nearby, and I drive somewhere. Simple. This is the American Dream. See the USA in a Chevrolet. Not, See the USA in a bus.
On the plane, – sat next to a man who was just hired away from Hallmark cards in Kansas City by Hershey’s. He is a product placement specialist and product development consultant. His job is to convince CVS that Hershey’s chocolate should be strategically placed near the pharmaceutical counter because it makes people feel good, like drugs. They had pitched this idea to CVS years ago but it was shot down. ( granted, this was pre: health benefits of 70 percent cocoa dark chocolate) Anyway, that’s why Hershey’s brought this guy in. A Hershey’s satellite office has been installed in the Woonsocket CVS complex specifically for this purpose. — Chocolate Bars Near Pharmacy Aisles, not just in the candy section!!!!! He said that CVS is all about pharmacy, whereas Walgreens is corner convenience. Hershey’s has no problem with powerful product placement in Walgreens- but CVS MUST be convinced that the pharmaceutical business strategy is not feasible in the long run.
We talked for 2 and 1/2 hours straight. I had only one drink. I offered him some million dollar ideas- about repackaging, going with the 70 percent cocoa benefits- I tell you people!!! I missed my calling, okay!!! I mean, my mind was WILD with solutions!!! I can’t begin to tell the whole story here…the information I pulled out of the guy about how they accumulate data – and how the CVS stores are designed to brain wash you… yuck… okay, anyway– this mornings headline, CVS won’t carry cigarettes. This indicates that CVS is taking the Care and Wellness thing to a NEW level of HEALTH awareness and AWAY from toilet paper, lipstick, dog food, and yes, maybe chocolate. What is to become of my new friend??!!