To all the friends and family who’ve stood by me all this long while. To all the people I love and feel connected to. To all of you guys: Thank you for it all and for making my life so full and happy. Thank you for the wonderful circle we have. I’m thankful for you all and to you all. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! See you soon.
Pre-Curtain Speech
You look for the ones who
Do it ‘cause they’re wanting to,
But they’re so hard to find.
The rest whore their way through life
Bending over for clients, bosses, customers alike.
Some cope from vagrant deluded druggers
To Paris in Versace’s Versilles
To the whore-d slaves in white collars
Blue collars black collars dog collars
Placards defining their selves for all the world to see
Amassing moneys illusions
To cover up their brand.
Cattle Brand Name Brand Slave Brand it’s all the same.
Nobody likes a job to hate.
So few get the ones they want,
The ones they love to sire to love
No matter what they do.
And so, cobble stoning Life, no matter where you go
Please look for the ones who do as they want to do
Stopping to enjoy the show.
Boredom.
The soul sucking state of trapped inefficient use of human potential. As others rush by, my mind wanders to somewhere, anywhere to escape the useless driveling waste that makes one go mad. Alone when others come by, alone when they go. So used to plugging in now nowhere to go.
As the mind fills itself to overflowing and creatives burst forth, a dam broken, Athena born. Clothed masturbation sets in as the mind fights on. Desperate, isn’t it?
I am Jack’s split personality warring on itself to continue a useless slavish task of allowing others to do nothing. My hours slowly pass in thirds, halves, whole fractions of minutes ticking by at slower than snails’ paces and yet the week flies on hummingbird wings,
months go in a blink,
leaving us to stink
in the vile waste
of making a buck.
Where have all the great ones gone?
Where is Valentino, Powell, Gershwin, Gable and Scott?
The definers of class, elegrance and grace
Give way to common crass cruising crashers
Who pimp and whore their way to the screen.
Gone is the glamour of bygone days
As respectability gives way
To the Hiltonesque way of the Downey days
Cop-riddled drug-addled haze
Of negative
All publicity is good publicity
Glory-hounding attention grabbing
Seekers of spotlit soundbytes
So soon our idealism turns consumptive
And inspiration lasts the life of a Starbucks’ cup
Easily marketed and as quickly discarded.
But let it not be said
That I a curmudgeonly whiner be
For long do I for the bygone days
For a world to come to its senses
In time for me to appreciate
Those golden days returned.
Where have all the great ones gone?
Where is Valentino, Powell, Gershwin, Gable and Scott?
The definers of class, elegrance and grace
Give way to common crass cruising crashers
Who pimp and whore their way to the screen.
Gone is the glamour of bygone days
As respectability gives way
To the Hiltonesque way of the Downey days
Cop-riddled drug-addled haze
Of negative
All publicity is good publicity
Glory-hounding attention grabbing
Seekers of spotlit soundbytes
So soon our idealism turns consumptive
And inspiration lasts the life of a Starbucks’ cup
Easily marketed and as quickly discarded.
But let it not be said
That I a curmudgeonly whiner be
For long do I for the bygone days
For a world to come to its senses
In time for me to appreciate
Those golden days returned.
