KVJ Documentary

March 25, 2022

 
I just finished the Kurt Vonnegut documentary “Unstuck in Time” and, ho boy, it surely hit me in the feels.

I’ve been reading some of his novels the past few years to include re-reading Slaughterhouse Five as well as purchasing the graphic novel version at the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library gift shop when I visited there last year. It was my first visit to the new location in Indianapolis and because of the pandemic I was the only one there, having called ahead to set up an appointment of sorts. I was donating a copy of Life magazine from 1971 that I’d inherited from my Grandpa’s things and had a Vonnegut short story in it (Richard Nixon was on the cover, for goodness’ sake!). A Saturday morning tour of the museum followed while Elias slept in at our hotel room recovering from an AAU basketball game from the night before.

It seems a shame that I read so little of him prior to my 40’s, but there is much of his work that I would not have appreciated when I was younger. Now in my 50’s it is both painful and fascinating to see how similar our outlooks were/are when he was at this age. The realization kind of came full bloom as the documentary wound down and I realized his last published work before he died was a collection of essays entitled “Man Without a Country” which so strangely echoes things I have written about in my post-Army life, even just a week ago.

Probably the most Vonnegut-influenced thing I’ve ever written was Department of Dance which ends with a nod to Kurt and his famous bird’s call “Poo-tee-weet?” from Slaughterhouse Five that “symbolizes the lack of anything intelligent to say about war.“ Sadly, these are realities that continue to haunt us and I am thankful for Kurt’s unwavering honesty in writing about such things.

***

Particulate Matter

 

He approached the city from the West

not anticipating a skyline that was absent

or at least a ghost of a line largely implied.

Particulate matter particularly mattered

as it entered his pulmonary passages

after its long journey from the North.

It was like a post-apocalyptic scenario

in the books he’d read since his youth

but now wafting into the realm of reality.

***

The Race

Atop my office filing cabinet,

remnants of an 18 year run.

Visited now only in memory,

nearly two decades of fun.

So many falls and flub-ups,

but feels like a race I’ve won.

***

Rust Never Sleeps

It’s the messing around with images and the ideas that they end up sparking that I find so stimulating and enjoyable - therapeutic even.

***

This week it was a utility truck sitting on the street by Grant Medical Center.  I passed it on my way to the car and the rust lines and runs caught my attention.  I find things like this intuitively compelling and it is not until later that ideas begin to flow as to what it means to me.  

This particular image is one of decay and disintegration on a vehicle that was once shiny and new rolling off the factory floor but has been “dying” ever since.  As it rusts away a beautiful pattern emerges with orange and yellow streaks cascading down over months and years.  

The words that came to mind were from a Neil Young album “Rust Never Sleeps”.  This sent me looking for selfies in my iCloud storage and I found one of me mock shrieking in horror in a stairwell at Grant.  The darkened wheel well formed a frame for this primal scream.

I have an app on my phone that I use to work with photos I’ve taken on it.  I’ve become increasingly drawn towards the Double Exposure feature that allows me to put one photo on top of another and blend them.  It allows for a kind of story telling by extreme juxtaposition.

The inside of the truck wheel has concentric circles that look to be shock waves moving out and away from my mouth, projecting the scream.  I made that part of the image black and white.  Maybe my version of Dylan Thomas’ “rage rage against the dying of the light”.

***

The Deceiver

You are the deceiver 

and I am the deceived

except the you is me 

and 

self-deception the sea

I am drowning in 

with nary a plea.

***

25

 

It was that time

overlooking the Rhine.

Feeling so alive 

at the age of 25.

Visiting a castle,

no worries or hassle.

Growing my hair long.

Feeling physically strong,

but emotionally facile.

***

Bottom of the Sea

 

The city sits at the bottom of the sea,

the water’s weight bearing down like

the world on the shoulders of Atlas 

but without the benefit of being a Titan.

He was punished for leading a war

against the Olympian gods for con-

trol of the heavens and I have been 

feeling pretty rebellious myself due 

to the frustration of not really knowing 

my place in the big scheme of things

which is not unlike drowning, honestly.

***