JOHN RUBENS is no Mother Teresa.

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  6:49 PM – 26 Jan 2016
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  @Showtime @WilliamHMacy That’s all I ask for you Mr. Macy, that you seek redemption. Very believable sight in Chicago. #Shameless or likable?

         

  @Showtime If every character on the streets was like this portrayal in fiction, we would still “shut the doors” to something. Malachi 1:10

  https://johnrubens.wordpress.com

It was a good day.  As I was roaming the stacks at dusk, I could still see the title of the tattered old hardcover of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.   I remembered seeing it earlier while climaxing silently with the librarian this morning.  She’s off shift now.  We started making love between the stacks standing up.  One thing led to another and when we bumped a stack, a row of books got knocked ajar and almost fell off the shelf.  We got on our knees and then laid prostate on the floor when we came–that’s when I saw the volume of Chaucer.  I opened it up and saw the tale entitled “The Wife of Bath.”

Prison’s not so bad once you get adjusted.  It’s the “getting adjusted” part that’s downright traumatic.  It feels like a cold slab at the morgue in here sometimes.  Only other people heat it up.  The librarian was butt-ugly but she had soft hands and lips and she looked as hot as any woman when she came.

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January 26, 2016

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

The plot thickens…

The Menace

A Short Story by John Rubens

[out of print; it’s about a malvolent actor that preys on people near the Hotel Roosevelt on Hollywood Boulevard].

Did we lose our edge or are we just not feeling the love?

I tried that when I was 16. Painted visions of our place in relation to heaven (white circle [heaven] with tributary-type extended tentacle to us [earth] at its end against midnight blue background.  He touched us with light, so we are part of the extended “circle” like the newest island rising from the lava.  We were not the Big Island as it happened in Hawaii, we were a spec, like made a part of the light because we were touched by the appendage of light more so than the fingers in the Sistine Chapel.  We were surrounded by light at the end of the light peninsula. The huge abyss in midnight blue all around the light.  We were an unlikely pick but for the love betwixt us in a dance of equilibrium and profound grace.

My second painting the next year was about people, beams from heaven, joy and bliss. Black man dancing with white woman on top of the earth, beams from the sky. Yellows and whites for background, figurines on the earth in blues, reds, black, tans and blonde.  My brother Richard liked it.

Writing is less sure and less strikingly real.

Writing known to use primarily the left side of the brain.

Painting lucid visions or dreams, perhaps “art” in general, the right side of the brain?  johnrubens.wordpress.com

I’ve got an idea for a Hollywood start up.

Take one upstart

Give him a few dashes of talent

Scrub him up and find him some followers

Lead a nation.

Reference: It’s been tried before: Socrates, Manson, Street Demos

But see: Ronald Reagan [consortium of sorts]; [#41: consensus consortium {Gulf}]. Tectonics in motion?

Source: Poetry, in real life

Shake ’em up! Let’s make some noise!

“Trouble is my business…” Raymond Chandler

Rationale: Assembly-line self-interest.

Ford’s Model-T: I don’t want so much to be a part of it anymore.

Jimmy Fallon: Then you’ll die!

I’ll die first Jimmy. I’ll die first.