Monday, April 13, 2009

The Left-going Zax and the Right-going Zax

Keep busy or go mad," says Voltaire.

Full moon just over, I still feel an episode coming on, probably from getting too many bangs on the head, not from a misspent youth, but, damn it all, Saul, misspent middle age.
For a long time, the incident--say it on--accident was just a recurrent dream of the future I had until one day it actually happened.

I hate to drive through rural Arkansas as they are a little short of money there and I swear they will torpedo you into an accident just to keep you around town for a while.
So there I was about a hundred mile west of Little Rock and someone with his lights off pulls out of a right service station lane just in front of me and prangs the right front of my little Dodge, knocks me cold as I hit the driver's side door window. I had wondered what had spiderwebbed the window glass till I realized it had been my head. Blackout...
I came to which the Sherrif's deputy asking me if I was all right. He had been directing traffic all around me and and the other car, which was now at right angles to my front, blocking traffic.There were no lights, on his cruiser..
The story will remain short, but in the three-day motel stay in town X, I saw three other out-of state drivers get into exactly my kind of accident. They used to tell us at the Toronto Star, that when something happens three times, you can then consider it a fact.
It is a fact that the road leading into that town with its tiny hidden cross-lanes was a deathtrap and the other tourists had not been as lucky as me. Serious injury. Hospitalization. Good thing I had money and insurance. And a hard head.

Yet to this day, I don't see as well with my right eye as the left. There is a predisposition to mood swings as the memory of that crash lingers. That and the fact that since that accident, I had been in a number of bar fights with irate Scottish footballers. Arrogance. Even whorishness, "I'll take you all on, Mother....ers!
Well did they ever give me a proper Stopped the blows with my head. Good move, Rowdyman!
...So I could hardly now sue that town back there in Arkansas. I needed to sue the Bayview Thistle soccer team in Newmarket, Ontario.
"You've got that punched-out look," my girlfriend observed in the morning. "Nothing like having your partner come home with a black eye."
I affected a Mexican vaquero, "'Pues." it will pass.

...But it was probably that accident that had made me go off kilter and, with all five- eight me thinking I was King Kong. Brain damage. Had to be. I had always explained to bar rednecks, even those with accents that I was a lover
and not a fighter. I really should have gone to hospital back there in Arkansas but the State Troppers said there was no need.
Blame it on the car crash. It was my mother who was the crazy one. Me? Sound as a dollar. Yet why was I picking on Scotsmen twice my size? My father had always warned me to take it easy. "Mother? She's sharp as a tack. It's you I worry about." Poor mother. In and out of the pistachio assembly plant.. The nuts don't seem to fall too far from the female walnut.
I did black out one more time after being hit in a bar. I woke up in the lounge area of Section Eight hospital ward. Saw some patient answering the phone. "Nut house!"
I resisted yelling, "Get me out of here!" as this would have surely prolonged my stay.
Ah, what can you do but drink and laugh about it.

Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, here comes my wagon.
I can hear my keeper calling me
Just like the nuts that fall
I'm a little cracked that's all
Ding, Ding, Ding Ding, here comes my wagon.
My wagon
My twuck

...Well, Mark the poet, I'm not sure if that was in four-foot iambs, but I think I just seen one. I saw a four-foot iamb right in front of me, right now.
Too much Dr. Seuss in my youth, I suppose.

There was a left-gong Zax and a right-going Zax...




Charles Gramlich said...

WEll I guess it couldn't be my home town of Charleston Arkansas, which is 150 miles south of Little Rock. Lucky you didn't get eaten! said...


Yep. Ivan could taste good like a little Ukrainian should.


re the picture of the chickens and the egg, incongruously, all feeding themselves on top of this blog.
Betty from Sweden sent it. I had meant to put it up on my Easter blog just passed, but with my shakiness this morning, it ended up
in the blog you have before you now.


be said...

they look comfortable here with the farmer n all the zig zaging going on
chicken can never really be wrong said...

Tee hee.

Thanks for the pic, Betty.

It seems to somehow fit, doesn't it.

Lana Gramlich said...

I kind of know what you mean. After an accident I had in which I hit the steering wheel pretty hard, I thought I was going crazy. Then I found out that was a side-effect of such head trauma. Since I was already half nuts as it was, I never determined whether or not the effect ever really diminished, but that's another story... said...


Yeah, don't we get banged around.
Especially in the older cars. Sorry.

Funny thing.
I've got this firm belief that is something doesn't kill you, you gotta really respect it, because it is vituperative and the next time it ain't gonna be fooling.

The doctor had finally asked, "Have you had a hard hit on the head?"
He was Asian and I'm not sure if I took it right when he aswered, "Ah, so."
Isn't that what they called the late Prime Minister Trudeau in Japan?

the walking man said...

Ahhh Ivan...No one has ever been well and truly banged until he has been banged by a Scot footballer.

If automobile accidents are the road to insanity I would say that fact explains quite a bit of me. I will have to never return to Arkansas just to be on the safe side. But then, every major accident I have ever had has occurred literally less than 10 miles from home.

Banged about
in four feet of time
is such a parameter
that I forget...
tell me again
where the pentameter begins
and the iambic ends? said...

Dunno Mark.
I had a very good english course,but I keep forgetting what iambic pentameter is.
Best is something my ex-wife would have said.

Shall ("AYE") comPAREthee TO a NIGHTmare's DAY? said...

...Damn. I can't stop editing,even a mock-poem.

your "funny" above with an edit to make it iambic tetrameter:

Banged about
in four-foot time
is such param
that was not mine..
tell me again
where the penta starts
You with all those friggin' smarts.

I know, I know. They used to tell me in the ghetto school, "Nobody likes a smart-ass."

They went on to more creative stuff, spoofs on the meter. "Rhythm? I'll show you rhythm. Here is iambic tetrameter (Drums please. Four-four time.)


Hey little girl
Get down on your knees
Nibble on me
Like a rat nibblin' cheese.

(Oh-oh. I think I lost my poetic licence that time. And mortarboard, too. Enough to defrock ya....Ah well. That's what happens when a slum kid gets edjucated beyond his intellect)

Ah, the debbil made me do it. Should have deleted it.

Hope they just let me off with just a warning. Frog prince can't get out of the habit of snagging Mayflies outside the carriage...

the walking man said...

I know, I know. They used to tell me in the ghetto school, "Nobody likes a smart-ass."

"Better a smart ass than a dumb ass"

Midnight said...

Now don't feel bad, y'all. At 1.5 years old, I relentlessly pulled myself along a second-floor bannister set (in a carriage/stroller), before U-eeing and returning to the first floor, in an exemplary, washing-machine-like display of daring, and exhibitionism.

I wouldn't trade that life-altering experience, for the world.

I've never been the same. said...


Ever watch Ed the Sock, out of Toronto TV? Irascible sock-puppet.
Slags everybody on his show. Says the same. But then you got class. He ain't. said...

p.s. to Mark,

Midnight, below, has praised you as a poet on ChuckerCanuck 2.0

It is a Canadian Conservative site.
Conservaive site? I always saw you as a radical poet.

ivan@crreartive said...


No Stairway to Heaven.

the walking man said...

Ivan...Thank you both for the nod at ChuckerCanuck 2.0...I am far more radical than he is...only in the other direction. ;-} said...


I know.

But some of the way-out commentators on Chucker's blog!

Speaking of way-out, I have just put up a doozer.

Midnight said...


re : Stairway to Heaven.

I bought a T-shirt at an Army surplus store, intending to give it to one of my younger brothers, who was in the Canadian Airborne Regiment :

Marines Never Die

They just go to Hell to Regroup said...

Wasn,t tha Somali kid bashing Col. Machee an asshole?

Midnight said...

Yes he was. Cpl.(Corporal) Matchee and the others who joined in the torture were unworthy of being called Airborne. Anyone caught breaking into a Military Base should expect to be roughed up somewhat, but the torture and death was inexcusable, and disgusting.

They contributed to Chretien's decision to disband the Airborne, though Chretien only did it after certain recruit 'hazing' ritual (initiation) videos surfaced.

I saw the video (it was on TV), and the black guy (the initiate) with the 'KKK' letters painted on his back was laughing and smiling, and having a great time. Nevertheless, it finally provided the gov't of the day an excuse to disband them. Sweep it under the rug. Prior to upcoming elections, I've heard it suggested.

It has been suggested that part of the reason (for disbandment) was to preserve the integrity of certain officers, who didn't have the balls to step forward, and stand up for their men, offering to resign if necessary, to preserve the cohesion and integrity of the unit.

Nevertheless, it was a lesson and a step forward.

Now called the Canadian Parachute Regiment (or Battallion), the Airborne lives under another name, the name dating back to WWII.

Their professionalism and courage is beyond reproach, as it always has been, exempting a few bad apples.

I've also heard that it has been decided to not use Paratroopers for guard duty or peacekeeping. It was not what they were born for. said...

The black guy was smiling?

In the video I saw they had him face down, chuggalugging a full toilet bowl.


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