Decaying Societies, Poisoned Brains and My Rotting Body

Jun 27, 2023

[Ubon Ratchathani, 6/24/23]

That evil and spiteful Jewish god said to Moses and Aaron, “Take for yourselves handfuls of soot from a kiln, and let Moses throw it toward the sky in the sight of Pharaoh. It will become fine dust over all the land of Egypt, and will become boils breaking out with sores on man and beast through all the land of Egypt.”

Collective punishment is the hallmark of Jewish thinking. It’s entirely absent in the New Testament. Burdened with this contradiction, Christianity hobbles along. Often, this toxin overwhelms the body, as is happening right now in the West. That’s why it’s allowing itself to be killed.

Tucked into a hidden corner of Thailand, I observe that assisted suicide, as my body breaks out in sores! This isn’t due to Yahweh, Moses and Aaron, however. Everyone around me has the smoothest skin. Painless and unblemished, they bask outside. Of course, those who suffer bodily disintegration or collapse are removed from sight, like me.

In art school, I developed a skin problem due to my constant exposure to turpentine and toxins in certain oil colors, such as titanium white, lead white, cobalt blue and cadmium red, etc. Painters are sloppy. While painting, they may nibble a snack or put their fingers to their lips in consternation. After hours in the studio, they may not wash their hands properly.

All my adult life, then, I have had to use ointments to keep my sores under control. Three weeks ago, my last tube of Flucinar, a Vietnamese brand, ran out, so I bought two Thai creams, neither of which did much. In Ubon, I tried a third, plus an “Antibacterial Shower Gel” called Dettol. Their combined ingredients proved disastrous. That’s why I’ve been mostly bedridden for three days.

A decade ago in Berkeley, I saw a man whose head looked shot or eaten away. Many students walked right by him. Standing there, he was all alone.

I was paid $10,000 to be a visiting writer in Berkeley for a month. “Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed,” wrote Rimbaud, and I quote that from memory. It’s an archetypical plot. Just days ago, I could leave my room whenever I felt like.

[Berkeley, 4/15/13]

My skin disaster makes me think of Marx and his boils. In letters to Engels, Marx hid nothing.

On 4/2/67, Marx wrote, “I had resolved not to write to you until I could announce completion of the book [Volume I of Capital], which is now the case. Nor did I wish to bore you by explaining the further delay, viz., carbuncles on my posterior and near the penis, the final traces of which are now fading but which made it extremely painful for me to adopt a sitting (hence writing) posture. I am not taking arsenic because it dulls my mind too much and I needed to keep my wits about me at least at those times when writing was possible.”

Fine, friends should be candid, but consider this bit from a letter of 6/22/67, “I hope the bourgeoisie will remember my carbuncles until their dying day.”

Combining narcissism with wrath, Marx turns his private suffering into a curse on his despised bourgeoisie!

Curled up like a wounded mutt, I also think of tranq, the new drug overtaking the US, with Philly’s Kensington as its mecca and ground zero. Defeated Americans from all over head there to destroy themselves. Often taken unknowingly, tranq rots their bodies. With ulcers blossoming, stinking pus oozing and body tissues dead, they slump on filthy sidewalks or stagger about.

From top to bottom, the US is turning into zombie land. Daily, Biden provides proofs. When congress voted to impeach the Zombie in Chief, no Democrat supported it, but what do you expect from such a conformist and hive minded society?

Nearly all American poets try to become tenured professors. In return for a steady income plus health care, they give up their intellectual independence, however. All societies are set up to reward abject obedience.

In 40 years as an adult, I’ve seen doctors and dentists no more than ten times, but I have no regrets. I say what I want. I’ve also been very lucky.

There’s a health food restaurant near me. Eating avocado, spinach, carrot, tomato and salmon, etc., I’ve had my last four meals there. For the last 21 hours, I’ve only had a few peanuts and some mixed juice. Very clumsily, I’m trying to detox myself.

“Lyle” comments at my blog, “Believe or not, over the years of viewing your posts, when there is a photo of yourself, I have sensed that you need a detox. All the signs are there, to me anyway.”

Even in youth and perfect health, the body reminds us, several times daily, of its putrefaction. Again, I quote DaVinci, “When a man dies, he’ll pass through his own bowels.”

Hopefully, in a day or two, I’ll be able to roam the streets again.