Monday, May 06, 2013

My Weekend as Cinco de Weirdo and Other Words About Going on 'The Hunt'



Think of it as finding the mythic in the mundane. The first problem, as I recall, was too much planning, thinking, what have you, about this month's nutrition needs. In Arizona, there is so much food that needs to be brought in from elsewhere: As in other states, nations and so on. So there's conflict, right there. Enter, the first gate of delirium: Survival.

Think of two golden bowls being poured into the other, one bowl the less than the other. The month's beginning is transition time, and it can become as frenzied as a storm moving fast across the land. You've got to be real careful with the pouring. Real, real careful. The godz are real, real unforgiving on this part. The godz know who they are, who I am, but I thank the greater spirits of the age for what I get: See: "Dances With Wolves." Best take only as much "tatonka," that is, buffalo, as one can eat.

Since the social-economic-political and cultural displacement has robbed the male in our zombie-mechanical world his right to hunt, going to the grocery store and getting the right things for to sustain me has come to be a source of pride. It's the man-as-hunter vibe. Old as Zeus. Gotta have fire, too, a Promethean question. So there's two mythic responsibilities right there.

Oh man, can the details roll up on you. The human being, a political and social animal, can focus on this too, but only after being a hunter and obtaining and keeping the fire stoked are achieved. Then you can do such things as work on more social and political and spiritual concerns.

Details. Details.

Anyway, Arizona and life in the U.S. in general can be pretty distracting when keeping focused on the details. Like when the governor of Arizona and the state legislature get all Hee-Haw about things. This causes disturbances that can distract you, and even rob you, of primal needs. In fact, if you are a man in Arizona, anything other than a fetus, you are shit out of luck. You are like, pretty useless without the do-re-me, sangeth Woody Guthrie. The Arizona-based band the Meat Puppets, if you are more of a modernist, have also done a number of good takes on this song, as well.  The "Grapes of Wrath" stuff repeats throughout history.

It's repeating now.

Okay, my story.

I began to climb. I'm on the hunt. Into the woods I go and wow, the trail is like so beautiful every step in my aching football-banged-up knees feel better. I get this lift the higher I go. It's like, wow, who knew this trail was here? I've got the "Dances With Wolves" theme song going off in my head and I am hardly thinking about primal concerns. I'm thinking about getting photos and all of this wonderful poetry I can't write down because I'm too busy climbing going off in my head.

Eventually I get to the top of the trail. Now I have a pretty good idea about where I am, and this brings good luck. I walk around enough, despite the knee aches, to know where I am, and I can see the roof of the grocery store and it's like: "Tatonka!"

Boy, so many details to get to, so little time ... Anyway, one needs to consider weight and distribution and how I will have to carry it all once I get the meat.

Too make a long story short, I think I went to the grocery store five or six times over Cinco De Mayo weekend, and the whole three days of this, Friday through Saturday, has really worn this professional pedestrian out. Especially when you consider such things at what might be the beginning of World War III, the Arizona Legislature pontificating on life beginning and ending with the fetus, after that, you are out of luck and all. Details. Details.

I do have a way to bring this all back home. It's a song by the Clash, "Lost in the Supermarket." So I will delegate that song's lyrics, so I can get back home in Homerian fashion, and rest ...

I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer, guaranteed personality
I wasn't born so much as I fell out, nobody seemed to notice me
We had a hedge back home in the suburbs over which I never could see
I heard the people who lived on the ceiling scream and fight most scarily
Hearing that noise was my first ever feeling, that's how it's been all around me
I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer, a guaranteed personality
I'm all tuned in, I see all the programmes, I save coupons from packets of tea
I've got my giant hit discothèque album, I empty a bottle and I feel a bit free
The kids in the halls and the pipes in the walls make me noises for company
Long distance callers make long distance calls and the silence makes me lonely
I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for the special offer, a guaranteed personality
And it's not here, it disappear
I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for the special offer, guaranteed personality
I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for the special offer, guaranteed personality
I'm all lost (I'm all lost in the supermarket)
I'm all lost (I can no longer shop happily)
I'm all lost (I came in here for that special offer, guaranteed personality)
I'm all lost (I'm all lost in the supermarket)
I'm all lost (I can no longer shop happily)
I'm all lost (I came in here for that special offer, guaranteed personality)
I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for the special offer, guaranteed personality
I'm all lost, I'm all lost, I'm all lost
I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for the special offer, guaranteed personality


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