Wilbur by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.
#20-A Directed Aside
Innocently plagued SHUT-INS have always been the unfortunate, sympathetic, and heart-stealing complications. The shut-ins are not only those confined to one room. They are everyone whose life has left them feeling deficient in their experiences. Though not commonly seen in that manner, in other words it is ALL PEOPLE; US, hereinafter referred to as SAP in the singular and SAPS in the plural.
The SAPS are those for whom some writers inadequately try to write and attempt to understand and not fire back when the SAPS first accept, and then reject the painstaking work done by the other SAP. It seems cruel. But it is just faultlessly inevitable. The inadequately experienced SAP writer has naturally and honestly developed a degree of misgiving about all the things the shut-in would like to have experienced, though the shut-in, understandably doesn’t want to admit to what they see as a much-too-sad-inadequacy-to-disclose and proceeds to flare at any suggestion which implies that like all, they just are what they are; no value judgements relevant.
On a relative basis, it is inarguable that some SAPS have more experience than others. It would seem that this should logically “work” in the sense of opposites attracting, even though their degree of being opposite is minimal in a physical
Page 123
sense. But, somebody got it wrong, and the everlasting tragedy is that it does not. DFW essence – the acceptance of the double-bound impossibility? Somebody must also have gotten that part wrong.
It is not to be said. It is near, but not quite in the realm of the artists who say “not one word,” presumably, as all soon fail. Yet the banality, overt or not, will of necessity and desire always manifest itself, suggestive of an intent; well-ill, or dispassionately-innocently-naively-ignorantly prompted, which becomes clearly obvious whether night or day. It is the yet to be named bridge over the Reciprocal River, home to the homeless and a convenience to those in possession of a roof; which will someday be named “Blind Trust.” Hell, if the lawyers can establish this meta concept in properly filed words, it is not unreasonable to expect that the “lay” people will soon establish this same concept in the improperly filed flesh.
Page 124
#21-Back to an Ostensible Sanctuary Of more or less current consequence, the consequent, constituent, computer conned and constructed, cantankerous conversations engaged in by the terminally brain challenged, were conveniently subjected to “censoring rules,” predominately but not totally, established by NUSOMMA in their changeable, nonetheless stringently enforced by the computer enhanced, coordinated mob rule of the “family of zealots”, through
“strangely” time-consistent, tedious, and that which detractors might deride in mutually congratulatory regurgitative web posts taken from their “The CCCP Hardback” version of the Bible.
Overall, this resulted in a C- effort, with a cordially communicated requirement to re-write the thesis, if one desired the “credentials” attendant to an advanced degree.
This often resulted in the “comedian” feeling badly, or compelled-to-say-that, about having ruffled the sparse, graying, and/or prematurely out-of-it feathers of many the not-personally-recognized-as-shut-in, self-appointed “protectors” of the shut-ins or SAPS. Oh, wad some power, the giftie gie
........ It’s difficult to pinpoint the intended and bewildered
“beneficiaries” of this “kind-spirited” largesse; opening the distinct possibility of the uninvited and unelected recriminations primarily being an excuse for the recriminator to
Page 125
expound and advertise whatever they were trying to sell. To address the pertinent level of incompetence, became too often a counter-productive “error,” which resulted in a lengthy issue in and of itself. Suffice to say that stupid people would better serve their cause by shutting up, rather than in.
Excepting the mavens paid well to expound upon their views on TV, for those with little else going on in their social media
“lives,” this culminated in a diatribe which seemed interminable, in specifying the “merits” of the bawling, offended “benefactor’s” “well-thought” opinion, assumptions added thereto, “future” predictions borrowed from the murky past, and righteous “outrage” expressed therein, which recognized religions even avoid during recruitment drives; the offended professional “benefactor” ostensibly in the hope of CNN, MSNBC, and/or Fox further lowering their standards in a desperate attempt to fill the airways with 24 hours of “news.”
The only other possibility was that the bullshitters had truly come to believe their own bullshit.
“Callously,” Cable and Barb merely wanted to get somewhere which was a “safe and pretty place, with a few private acres they could cultivate.” Some simple things are worth repeating; despite their not being simple to some.
These thoughts were not likely to have been prompted by a yugely expressed consensus of the usual Goodreads inhabitants.
Page 126
Among other possibilities, one possible fair characterization of it is therefore that “it is derivative of the jealous and deluded second rate.”
Upper Darby Manor fit that bill exquisitely. Cable and Barb’s search became more focussed and was not at all subjected to abstract meta considerations which lead nowhere other than a time worn and thereby potentially infectious, oozing, fourth stage boring essay, ostensibly concerning “deserving poor”
versus “undeserving poor” considerations, adjusted for the “new”
factors brought on by the present’s overly obvious displacement, in its if not bragging of the common, lock-step “new,” then a demonstrated misperception of an impossible total “obliteration”
of the old. Their only defense mimics that standardly utilized by the lesser Bizarro writers saying; “I intended it to be stupid. You just don’t get it. Blam-o. Hahaha. So uncool, dooooood.”
Footnote #1. In order not to break the consistently smooth flow of this book, the writer has inserted this footnote here.
It may be skipped without that being a detriment to the reader’s continued enjoyment. Arm chair quarterbacks may find it of interest after done with the corpus. It may be most enjoyed in the sequence presented by the writer’s well-loved nerds with a penchant for streaming minutiae.
Page 127
“Bizarro” is a reference to an obscure genre of alleged anti-literature, with characteristic themes running the gamut from a verbal depiction of a purposely incompetent “Godzilla Meets Megalon” movie to a bacchanal involving purple Martian chicks with tails capable of erection, to saying how stupid all the non-Bizarro’s are, to a recounting of the writer’s most recent visit to the psychiatrist. It was first noted in error at the turn of the last century, initially calling itself irreal.
After a brief heyday of insignificance around 2012, it has since declined to an oblivion marked by zero cash sales and an embarrassed writer denial of involvement, evolving noms de plume, and an attempt to characterize their work as “surreal,”
or some other term which could conceivably be viewed as characterized by an obviously detectable writer, long term and severe, substance abuse “issue,” often consistent with, a randomized lack of coherence married to the need for a spelling remediation seminar. The glue, paint, and fart huffers are the worst. End of Footnote #1.
Dripping with a sly un-specificity regarding, but not limited to which prior stimulus at which she aimed her address, Barb said; “Who cares?”
Page 128
In an attempt to open a tertiary aspect, Cable replied; “I like trivia, and am preparing for being the big winner on a game show hosted by Monty Hall.”
Barb said; “Monty is officially recognized as dead.”
Cable said; “Fake news?”
Barb said; “Could be. You never know. The Bible says that some people live well past the pre-pubescent age of 123.”
Cable said; “Not me. I just have this compulsion to test the limits of pedanticism. There seems to be a market for an improvement upon Michael Pietsch’s, DFW assisted, Pulitzer-short-listed rendering of ‘ The Pale King.’”
Their words temporarily in non-chemically assisted remission, Cable and Barb used their down time to relocate to an eight room Cape Cod on three generally wooded acres, fronting on the Reciprocal River, in Upper Darby Manor. Though the house had no visually determinable size considerations, gargantuan or pantagrueled, their biggest fear became that they had become mutually congratulatory aficionados of the ageing, “bigger is better,” ersatz post and/or post-post-modern coterie of advocacy-challenged, claimed-to-be willingly obscured, gender confused, selfish “artists,” in search of an analyst proficient with a Hegelian approach and a bias toward ontology at the expense of epistemological considerations.
Page 129
That lasted five minutes; being annihilated by the arrival of the moving van.
Footnote #2. In order not to break the consistently smooth flow of this book, the writer has inserted this footnote here. It may be skipped without that being a detriment to the reader’s continued enjoyment. Arm chair quarterbacks may find it of interest after done with the corpus. It may be most enjoyed in the sequence presented by the writer’s well-loved nerds with a penchant for streaming minutiae.
Skipping is permitted if not overtly recommended. For those devoid of dictionary access and those not totally disinterested, ontology is basically an analysis of the human cognitive process as the route to human knowledge, while epistemology is the human historically based, event driven one. This greatly matters to a generally aged smattering of readers and writers with no discernable source of income, and the consequent luxury of time proven by a rotund center, not caused or effected by pregnancy.
Hegel is a forgotten 17th century philosopher, resurrected by the ontological advocates. The writer is certain that the reader already knows that. If you are still reading this, your patience is appreciated. .... Not. End of Footnote #2.
Wilbur
Page 130
Cable and Barb’s new Upper Darby Manor house on the Reciprocal River; property of the author.
Wilbur was now in a nice spot with a Reciprocal River view.
He solely presided over the fireplace mantel in the living room.
His initial tranquil despondency, caused by his solitude, was substantially alleviated the majority of the time when his benefactors, Cable and Barb, provided him with a chatty, Wilma, balsa wood toucan companion. He immediately loved his girlfriend, and considerately hid that he sometimes missed his old trophy friends, and their Trump-No Trump chatter.
Likely the result of gender-free intuition, Wilma suspected that something troubled Wilbur, but since the present was good enough for both of them, reserved comments or questions for some unspecified future date.
Page 131
Cable and Barb stayed off-subject during their toddiest of times, while Roxy Music’s “Strictly Confidential” looped and looped and looped.
Page 132