I am grateful for: “the way the wind blows”

Dear Mr.  Jacksonville,

My heart does pull in different directions, where to start, when I feel everything at once.

I wonder about all the tiny frogs that come out at night to crowd up the doorways of the gated communities constructed out of wafer-board and stucco-veneers; maybe entangled in the mosquito-netted patio tables buttressed around backyard golf-courses that share obstacle pits with local crocodiles.  How are they doing; those little barometers?

Bama says he’s not overwhelmed, or trying to convince you of an urgency even when there is obvious urgency in places with mosquito nets, but do you recall the time you said how “sometimes a luxury car dealership entitles a man to an early retirement?”  Well, I hesitate to name names.  I want to tell you this part “in general” to avoid admitting something about first love when it won’t last as a matter of principle.  Seems like if I went into it, I’d be trying to explain how the color jade came to be.  

Bama’s ma isn’t chatty and she has no body language to speak of, so when she laughs we honestly don’t know what’s so funny.  Bama tends to look away and says not to go with her eye language because he’s pretty sure she has ESP.  Bama says she doesn’t use it for anything, but it’s eerie.  

Bama’s Uncle says it’s not okay to take advantage of “Prematurely retired white men who require built-in cabinetry and surround sound speakers for their entertainment systems.”  Bama says that’s why he agreed to read “The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man” but discovered smoking pot gave him headaches.

Bama’s pa says he needs to “get a couple of big niggers in here to do the heavy lifting” then reports the next day how he “never knew how badly we treated the indians” after watching Kevin Costner in the movie, “Dancing With Wolves” on his new entertainment system with surround sound.

The ghost of Super Dome past offers Barbara Bush a nice cot if she wants one. After all, she’d do the same for your dog. Jeb says, “How come I can’t become president of the FEMA trailers this time?” George Jr. says, “Heck of a job Brownie! And hey paw… you think my painting of Vladimir Putie would make a good first lady present for your favorite adopted son, Billy?” George Sr. shakes his head and says, “No my boy, that wouldn’t be prudent…  better paint a consolation portrait of Obama’s Labradoodle for the old Hill.  Everybody likes Bo on account of that dead Lion.”

Several days later, seat-belted passengers become witness to slow-motion driving through rainfall so thick and heavy the sun illuminates it into bright white sheets.  Bama  occasionally hydroplanes despite knowing how to pump his brakes and he uses the faint tail lights of the car ahead to guide his Hatchback, blasting U2’s MLK on CD, declaring it necessary for steadier nerves, simultaneously reassuring himself aloud, “this is how people vacationing to SeaWorld every summer grow up learning how to drive….”

He hums along and sings Sleeeeeeep….

and the lyrics for MLK about Martin Luther King Jr. go…

Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized
If the thundercloud
Passes rain
So let it rain
Rain down on him
Hmm-mmm-mm
So let it be
Hmm-mmm-mm
So let it be

Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized
If the thundercloud
Passes rain
So let it rain
Let it rain
Rain on him
Rain on him…

Hungary says how she wants to cut to the chase, but that’s not how this stuff works. She says maybe you’ll bear with the way her husband paints pastel stripes. . . to find those quiet places in the roar, listening for our shared humanity.  Hungary’s husband wants to know if everybody is listening to Blur in Brooklyn but he puts it out there as a suggestion not a real question, so no one believes he’s still interested in being a quasi-romantic drunk in the French Quarter.

Bama says if he paints what looks like gift-wrap, people will get caught up and lost in the roar and if they give up due to the empty gesture he’s still excited about manifesting anticipation and disappointment.  Bama says it’s not copying Hungary’s husband if his stripes criss-cross.

Mac says, her first impulse is for the Pulse Club. How a hurricane doesn’t discriminate…  Mac says she tells the best ghost stories and can summon Cthulhu.  She says helium balloons can channel spirits, but you have to know how to entice them with baby talk.  She says it helps if you can make sounds like a purring kitten.  

Mac’s Rent Check is twenty years older than her and served in the U.S. military. He says  a hurricane doesn’t remember the U.S. Marine who served in Afghanistan and saved 70 people that night at the Pulse Club.  A hurricane doesn’t think back to an occupying war for oil in the Persian gulf called “Desert Storm.”  A hurricane doesn’t care what kind of car you drive during evacuation procedures, or how your gas prices changed into gas gouging, making you the victim of disaster capitalism.  A hurricane doesn’t know the difference between a gay person, a latino person, a black person, a hindu person, a veteran, or someone shooting them at their dance club in the name of Islam.  

Mac’s Rent Check says it’s a bummer this Sunday football season is competing with this Sunday’s presidential debate.

Rent Check’s best friend says it’s Rent Check’s swing in the video golf and he gets up to get a beer only to find out he needs to make a beer run.  “Who’s up for a drive?”  He wants to know.

Mac’s Rent Check says a hurricane doesn’t remember the earthquake that already devastated Haiti and derailed the joint business venture between Papa Bush and Baby boy Clinton. A hurricane doesn’t remember the outsourced jobs or exploitation of cheap labor or sewing machine sweat shops.  A hurricane moves on while former presidents drive around in golf-carts to inspect the damage of a hurricane.  

Mac says, and a hurricane doesn’t make fun of Sean Penn for caring more.  

Mac’s Rent Check says, a hurricane doesn’t know Hillary Clinton asked the Governor of Florida to extend the voter registration for his state due to Hurricane Matthew, or that the governor of Florida told her, “No” …because he’s voting for Trump. 

Trump twitters he’s sorry for ever wanting to grab Hillary’s pussy. 

Mac says that’s why she’s decided to sell make-up that recycles their lipstick tubes for the ethical treatment of animals.

Bama’s pa says “Sometimes a car entitles a man to a tank of gas…” but Bama doesn’t know if his pa’s position on price gouging has changed.

Bama’s pa says the hurricane better be sorry if he can’t get those four hours of the Nascar Charlotte Sprint Cup back.

Trump twitters, he’s sorry for ever wanting to grope Hillary’s fat ass.  “But how it was right there?  Am I right?”  

Bama’s pa says he doesn’t understand why the Scottish are so against Brexit when they already became caddies for Trump. 

Bama’s grandmother giggles.  

Bama decides it’s time to pick up the nearest magazine and hide his face with the cover of People.  

Trump twitters his support of Dirty Harry’s use of pesticide on golf courses and tells the EPA not to worry about climate change.  His followup tweet says  “So what if it’s real?  We get the Mexican Miss Universe girls to go topless and sell burn lotion.  What can I say? I’m a forgiver and a job creator.”

Kevin Costner invests in the science of how to clean up oil spills and wonders about all the tiny frogs that come out at night. How are they doing; those little barometers?

Lakota says the united tribes are taking a stand against the private oil interests of the Dakota Access Pipeline being built across their lands.  We are not fighting for the Public Trust, which is the right of ALL citizens to clean air, land, and water; for basic health and human safety.  This isn’t about CLIMATE CHANGE like the white feminists who want to usurp our voices say when they claim to be allies.  Standing Rock is the foundation stone of a growing movement against white supremacy.  When we protest or fight for our rights, we aren’t simply shot or incarcerated by the government.  We are erased.  Wiped out.  Made extinct.

All the barometors howl at the full moon, “To protect the water is to protect ALL life.” and then they get blown away, pretending they are dancing with wolves.

Sincerely,

Wild West

***

The Lucius “Almost Makes Me Wish for Rain” (live video) is being posted here for NO COMMERCIAL PURPOSES.

Lucius “Almost Makes Me Wish for Rain” Lyrics:

Here we are
Thought you’d have to rescue me
But thankfully it didn’t get the best of me
It’s not worth a fuss
It’s not worth my time
I could lose it but
I’d be out of line

So here we are
On the side of the road
But the sun is out
Lightening my load
Just a flat tire and a helping hand
I could lose it but it’s just not so bad

Looking for a scene to cause
But the only thing I see, blue skies ahead of us
Searching for the empty half when somethings filling up the glass
I’m hopeless

It almost makes me wish for rain
When everything begins to go my way
This guilty feeling comes along with it and you know
It almost makes me wish for rain

So what it is about a broken heart
The harder times, the rougher starts
Inspiration feeds off of the deepest scars
And the easy streets well we drive apart

Looking for a scene to cause
But the only thing I see, blue skies ahead of us
Searching for the empty half when somethings filling up the glass
I’m hopeless

It almost makes me wish for rain
When everything begins to go my way
This guilty feeling comes along with it and you know
It almost makes me wish for rain

It almost makes me wish for rain
The sun is out and I should feel it’s rays
it’s like I’m waking to a dream day after day 
It almost makes me wish for rain

Fall on my head
Bring me to life again
The funny thing is that when I am okay
Oh it makes me wish for rain
I can’t pretend
To settle in
When I am not on the edge of the fray
It almost makes me wish for rain

When everything begins to go my way
This guilty feeling comes along with it and you know
It almost makes me wish for rain

It almost makes me wish for rain

The sun is out and I should feel the rays
it’s like I’m waking to a dream day after day
It almost makes me wish for rain…

oh, oh, oh,  oh…

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