The One Thing We Still Have


Recently I’ve had more thoughts of a pistol in my mouth than a cup of coffee. Depression is a mother and the looming results on who America ends up with as president( come January first) settles hard on my cerebral cortex. Summer is close and the weather is beginning to ramp up the thermometer. More summer outdoor venues are popping up as the masses work out the kinks of winter. Here in Sleepytown, the annual running of the Indianapolis 500 Mile Race marks the unofficial beginning of events for the majority of folks. It’s the same in most towns throughout the country; every place has it’s big annual what-the-fuck ever to spend money on and feel comforted. The race has supplied revenue from it’s inception for this city, and race fans from around the globe hone in on Indianapolis, shelling out their money to experience the whole scene. This was to be the one hundredth running of the race and to mark the event, local televised broadcast of the race would be allowed here-something having been blocked from early on. As depraved and horrid as the whole nightmare scene one could find in the infield of the 500 track was, I was not up to the challenge of being stuck in that hellish scene. I lost my flavor for huge crowds some years ago at an outdoor concert where people were dropping like flies from sun stroke, bad acid and general mayhem.

My race day morning was actually spent with a good friend in some downtown gay bar before noon, sucking on mimosas and weed. I had been on a run watching local bands perform, experiencing the traditional 500 Mile Race Parade in downtown Indy and  participating in various community events. Summer brings out carnivals and live shows in greater force so I dove in to meet the season. More are still to come and all this festivity will distract us voters from the impending consequence; our future Ruler. I suppose it’s as much a numbing agent as a distraction to go to these different events and it seems to be good therapy for all us vertebrates-and not only does it help us, it helps others.

Lots of people will tell you they support the arts or they may even specify and say the ‘local’ arts but more tend to stay away or be less supportive of small local events. I followed some musicians for a small run of shows in various spots around town. It’s all part of the money train which feeds small communities. The bigger the event, the more dollar for (usually) larger-and even multiple-communities. Where some people fall off in true support of local arts is by ignoring the joint down a few blocks that hosts live shows on the weekend for a small cover, or going to a stage show or poetry reading one day out of their freaking lives. This is such a small thing to actually get up and do-trust me. I jump my ass out and get as tired as anyone else some days; I continue to wrestle those thoughts of the pistol away but make the effort…and get out…and feel appeased. Seeing local shows feeds those artists; the people out there working on little or no budget. Those who stick to it and get up to entertain do so as part of their personal therapy, which creates a symbiotic relationship with neighbors, friends and true fans. It can give an entertainer a small shot of feeling accepted-of feeling some worth. I recall the excellent extravaganza of watching great local burlesque performers during my years in Denver, Colorado. Mondays at the club on South Broadway where you can get in no cover if you strip down to your underwear. Brilliant performances by women and men who developed their routines, made their costumes and put it out on stage to make you smile. If you are the type individual who goes to events like these, you are true supporters of the arts. For those of you who never do, I shed tears.

The constant droll we call internet news shoves harsh crime dramas and useless pablum stories of made-up celebrities down out throats. One one extreme, I saw a tagline stating Kim Kardashian has released a new shot of her ass. The other side of the extremity was a story out of Houston, Texas, where the boyfriend of a fifteen year old girl, recorded himself as he raped and killed her. She was pleading for her life as the scum suck choked her to death…these are the allegations. These two stories are prime examples of why we should all get out more, locally, and step away from that hellish beast feed on the internet. Go live a true life and support local arts. Help support local citizens that want to provide creativity and numbing distractions in your life because as silly as that may sound to you, it’s really fucking important. You need something to quell the horror thoughts of things like President Trump and the taking of more innocent lives online to read about…or seeing Kim Kardashian’s humongous ass.


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