HOW TO WEAR YOUR TUQUE

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,

This falls into the fashion category.  When I wear my tuque I am not sure whether the label should be at the back or at the front.  I have tried both, but always fear that it is at the wrong place, which makes me lose the concentration I need to try to find a decent job.  Where do you think it should go?

Label Me Worried

Dear Label Me Worried,

I  myself never wear a tuque for the simple reason that you never know which side is front and which is back and you always tend to make a fool of yourself. I will have to look that one up in order to answer your question.

I am back. With an excellent find: an organization that seems to know everything there is about  them. One of the tidbits of fact that I gleaned from them is that “tuque” is not a good name for the hat because it is too hard to spell, so they want to change it.

As far as the label problem is concerned, I could not find the answer there to it. Of course, you could always try wearing the label on the inside, which may stun some people at first, but then you might,  who knows, start a craze if it catches on.

If you wish to get creative, why not just get a very large sock to pull down over your ears?  Socks don’t usually have labels affixed to them, so you would be safe. But please do not choose to don one of those those wiggy things with the two strings and attached pompom  at the top that tries to project the image of a thin-brained creature who is visiting our planet from afar.

Good luck on this, and on finding a rewarding job.

MY BEDSHEET DILEMMA

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,

I don’t know what to do about my bed sheets. I wash them, I dry them, and you know what happens? They come out all wrinkled. Now I have to sleep on wrinkled sheets. Not only that. When I look at my sheets I think of my poor face which is starting to look like a prune and I want to heave.  Can’t they make sheets that don’t wrinkle, or is that too much to ask in our age of miracles?

Bedroom Blues

Dear Bedroom Blues,

I can sympathize. There is nothing sadder than wrinkled sheets. A close second I think would be world hunger. Wrinkles are also dangerous  in that they chafe and can even cut the skin if you are unlucky enough to be an active sleeper.

What pops immediately to mind from my bag of advice options is the iron. Yes, it is a chore and cuts down on your shopping time, but it has been known to fight the bumps. You would have to get a large ironing board, though, because the ones we usually  find are too narrow for sheets.  I am not sure where these can be purchased, but common sense tells me to locate a shop which caters to the over weight .

If that is not to your liking, a cover-up is the next best  strategy.  Throw a spread over it so that you won’t know it is there, and that way it will be out of mind and not cause you anguish. Or shut your eyes before you hit the sack and snap off the lights immediately, of course, remembering to  keep them closed  in the morning when the sheets are likely to be even more wrinkled.

If you are feeling really testy about the matter, I would encourage you to find others who share your problem and band together to harass the makers of those wrinkle-prone sheets with a constant barrage of e-mail, threatening to sue if they cannot come up with a better product.

You might like to cut down on mirror time as well so that you are not as pained by the prune effect. Good luck and let me know once you get the problem ironed out.

MAYBE YOUR PANTS DON’T BREATHE

RON’S WISDOM SALON: A fictional advice column

Dear Ron,
I have a kinda sticky problem. If I am in my car, driving for at least a half hour at a stretch, my behind gets very hot, to the point that I begin to feel like what I imagine an egg must in the process of getting hard boiled. It does not feel too great I can tell you. What can I do about this other than to stop driving?
Baked

Dear Baked,

I have pondered this considerably and have come up with a possible explanation. Your trousers. Maybe your pants don’t breathe sufficiently. Or maybe your underwear is too tight. Try clothes that enjoy breathing.  Cotton is an option.
Otherwise, I would keep the window wide open, and elevate your backside from time to time to invite air contact. One cheek at a time is a good way to do it, rotating each to get maximum contact for about thirty seconds, but carefully watching the road at the same time. Good luck and rotate responsibly.

POETRY BOOK

THIS IS MY POETRY BOOK

Twilight Dances is a collection of poems which explores the dark side of the human experiment in a serious lyrical fashion. In it the author allows thanatos, or the instinct toward a worldly death, take over and color many of the poems from various points of view, and people, some even from a comical perspective. The book is divided into three parts: Identity and Aspiration; People Known and Dreamed; Observations of Culture. There are a total of 140 poems in rhymed and free verse forms. The style is spare and transparent, though sometimes bordering on the lyrical and romantic. This is decidedly not a light read.

TWILIGHT DANCES: A COLLECTION OF POEMS

Kindle Edition

by Ron Kozloff (Author)

PARADISE

What on earth do they do there? Ok. You have women, wine, and song? Now is this constantly? You had one woman, you go to another. You can become the playboy of your dreams. Fine. That might work for how long?  awhile?  OK. I could take that. Then there’s  the wine part. We already know that too much wine makes you need to hang around the toilet bowl the next day. Are there toilet bowls in heaven? The song? Well how many really good songs are there? If you are staying there eternally, you’re bound to run out. And who decides which songs will be played? Some angel probably. What if you don’t get along with an angel? Can you request another?  They always talk about it being like a garden. Well, I now live a couple of blocks from a huge beautiful  public garden. But I’ve gone only a couple of times. Then they say there are lakes. I like a good lake as much as the next guy, but how long can you swim? Is there fishing allowed? Who says how many fish you can catch? The angels, right? I’d rather be near an ocean and surf. I’m sure there are people who would like to ski. So let’s say that it would leave a lot to be desired. But paradise has to be perfect. Everyone is always happy.  It’s peaceful. There is no pain. Excellent. Why not just take drugs?

======================

HOW IT HAPPENED

We sit in opposition
Like cars gearing up for a
Game of chicken.
The wind blusters in your
Eyes, your piano voice comes
In crystals. I feel the years
Between us that have
Fallen off, revealing a hard
Skeleton  of love in place.
But
How  we try each
Other for fault! Your vanity,
my hands cut off at
The wrist. I have no
Stomach to pick through
These remains again or retrace
Plot points on the map
To here. I see it as a
Happy accident that
We have survived
Together at all,
Certainly not any of my
Doing.  Was it the god
Of inertia who intervened,
limited horizons pressing
Against motion?
Were we not brave enough,
and if so,
Has it not taken us down
A step?
Or
Was it something else entirely,
A flame of recognition
That held a mutual gaze
And burned everything else
Away?

==========

SIGNATURE

You wait
And if it doesn’t come you wait some more,
It is something like fishing
Except you don’t do it in the sun.
It is not exactly pleasant
And it is not exactly unpleasant either
And
Why you do it
is difficult to answer.
It has something to do with compulsion
Your having to know that you can,
On that day
come up with something
That will definitely surprise you.
So you court the gods gravely and fervently
Because you know that it is not really
You at all who is going to do the work.
It is rather a chorus of Voices somewhere
Inside your nervous system
that will come to visit you,
Bringing with them words as gifts to you,
Which they offer in muffled tones or
In fits and starts, or in lengthier
Instalments that you take down
At your keyboard you hope in the right
Order.
You want to receive the message correctly
not mishear it,
And you have to learn to trust that what they tell you
Is in fact the truth because you have no way of verifying
It.
Of course there will be at some point an overseer who
tinkers and censors
And deletes
A sort of Father Figure editor
Who must get the package wrapped correctly.
But that is the easy part really because the gift is already
There,
in whole
or in part.

Later, you and others will determine whether it was
A cheap gift or an expensive one.
You will provide your signature,
The Voices will be relegated to obscurity.

But
You know in your heart that you are probably
an imposter,
At best, an interceptor,
And the Voices will not be there to either
Confirm or deny it.

================

HOW TO BEAT AN INSULT

We have all been insulted some time or other in our life. And it is important that one learns to take insults well if we are to retain any measure of self-respect. When someone says to you, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” How can you most handily respond to that?

Act interested . Go, “Why don’t I go fuck myself, indeed?” Have your  fingertip at your lip, your head cocked at an upturned angle while you say this.  It is possible, though unlikely, that the big-mouth will join you in attempting to answer their own question,  Or you could choose to remind them it is none of their business. Your insult to them. But the better course is to stay on the high road and not play tit for tat.  It is possible that the person decides to up the ante with a more direct “Fuck you” or “Fuck off.”

Now you must clarify matters. Explain to the frustrated soul that you don’t wish to do either. Be firm but kind. Remind them that we live in a democracy, that they are neither your guardian nor your stockbroker (if in fact it is the case)  and that you don’t wish to take their advice. Or, contrarily, that you may just do what they have suggested. Thank them for their tough-love manner and wish them well in their day.

If this leads to a physical threat, raise your hand and take on a stance of “Brother, you know not what you do!”  in the style  of Harvey Keitel, admonishing his flock in Martin Scorcese’s old movie, The Last Temptation of Christ.  It is always useful to have a model in mind when you make a magnanimous gesture. It may even get uglier. If so, employ one of Ghandi’s tactics and sit on the ground. Do not allow yourself to be hurt, but don’t resist either.  Do the right thing, a la the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. Hopefully, a crowd will encircle you that includes a burly off-duty policeman. If that doesn’t happen, play dead, or convince the person that it is time for your nap. It is always amazing what people will accept at face value. The important thing is to keep them guessing and preferably under the impression that you cannot be bullied, or that you are mentally unbalanced and capable of untold destruction if pushed to it.

The best alternative, however, may still be the flight reaction. But usually it does not come to that. What is the worst that can happen? You die. There are worse things than death,( which I won’t get into at this juncture.) Suffice it say that even if you did die, you would know (how, I have no idea!) that you did the right thing. You did not insult back.  You did not steep to their level. You acted with dignity, forbearance, a smattering of intelligence, bluff. You danced well. You went out in style (whatever that means) Could they say the same? It is more than likely that they will at some point regret what they said or did to you, or they may even become born-again and go on to years of meetings in dank basements with badly dressed overweight people .

You will have changed the person. they might never insult another person again, or at least in the same manner.  You have made a difference!

=====================

JIAN and US

Jian Ghomeshi

He looks like a sweet little immigrant,

a Pakistani boy wading through dirty water.

He smiles a lot on walls and soothes

with his ingratiating manner.

He is said to be charming to breathless women

he meets at natural food counters and less than charming to his underlings.

Known as a pop culture icon, a go-getter, or almost something.

while inside he is:

all emptiness and fury.

He must have hated his mother a lot.

Did she turn the wrong screw?

We can always trace things back to her.

Blaming the woman is the name of the game we love.

Women as punching bags is always a hoot.

She could not be one hundred percent available, perhaps.

She is, after all, the Remote One, the Castratrix.

And this is never agreeable.

Thus she must be remade, beaten into another shape.

Everyone knows that,

Everyone sees that,

Everyone always has.

====================

MY PSYCHIATRIST, Doctor Ishbin Starke

When I told my psychiatrist “ I can’t stand it anymore. I want to jump in the river and drown.”  He advised me to have a good meal an hour before I do.

 I told him my life is a blank page. So he handed me a copy of War and Peace.

I don’t know if my psychiatrist is cruel or kind. At my last session I said, “Doctor. Tell me the truth. Will I ever feel any better?” He helped me to the door.

I quoted Hamlet to my shrink “  I said to him with tears in my eyes “Oh, to sleep. Oh! Perchance  to dream.”  “Perchance?” he said. “Perchance you’ll pay your bill on time.”

Doctor Starke says that anal sex  shtinks.

I am not totally convinced of Dr. Starke’s credentials.  Rather than his diplomas on his wall he has pictures of funny  bunnies.

I said, Doctor. Come off it. Don’t you think calling me an egotistical, narcissistic asshole pushing it. What have I ever done to you? He said, you came to see me, didn’t you?

I am having second thoughts about Doctor Starke’s ethical standards after he asked me what I thought would work best to erase someone: poison or a bullet to the back of the head?

I must admit I always feel a tad nervous whenever Doctor Starke says to me: “Can we try this experiment?”

I don’t mind Doctor Starke chewing gum while I am telling him about my anxieties and fears but I only wish he would stop blowing bubbles.

Doctor Starke has some very firm views about child–rearing.  He believes disobedient children should not be seen… or heard from… again.

Doctor Starke always calls a spade a spade. He also calls them “darkies” and  “lapsed white people.”

I am finding out that Doctor Starke has a sensitive side as well. He breaks down in tears every time he sees a movie in which a Nazis is snubbed.

Doctor Starke does not just sit on his big comfortable chair all day. He is an activist and has started a movement called ‘ War Criminals Of The World Unite.’

Doctor Starke thinks the Holocaust was a cruel lie meant to blemish Aryan superiority.

Doctor Starke thinks that the statement made by the president of Iran, Achmaminijad, who said that “Israel is a stinking corpse that should be wiped from the face of the earth,” was taken out of context.

I asked my shrink, the ex-Gestapo member, Doctor Ishbin Starke. I said, “Doctor. I can’t control my emotions. What must you think of me?  He said, “I try not to think of you.”

===================================================

GRAVITY

Dreams never end well.

They leave with a dread at the centre of them

Or grief or insecurity as the main theme.

In the sunlight

dreams are a source of Inspiration

a wild sea

you in the boat

Heroically sailing toward the horizon

The future white and inviting.

In the landscape of  snow

Anything is possible.

The dots lay in many directions.

The human print has not yet been

Formed.

Destiny ,why have you

Let me down?

me and millions like me

Who wake each day to say’ is this all there is?’

Did we not dream loudly enough?

Or vividly

Or are dreams meant to end in shambles

You being playful again?

You are cruellest to those

To whom you grant their wishes.

And,

In the end

They realize its paltriness,

the opposite of gold.

It is perhaps impossible not to dream

But what to tell the young about you?

Nothing,

Certainly, nothing.

WHAT IS THE MYSTERY?


Write about it.

Write about what?

Find an” it” and write about it.

This is it.

Then what can we say about it?

That it’s here

Where?

Right here.

I can’t see. It’s too dark.

That’s it.

The darkness?

Yes.

What can we say about the darkness?

It’s dark.

Yes,… and?

And you don’t know where anything is.

Go on.

And It’s on my shoulder now.

Yes  It’s heavy, isn’t it

It’s gone now.

A little light, then?

Yes but it’s still hard to see.

Maybe you need glasses.

It’s possible.

Which it is it now?

There is only one it.

Darkness?

Yes.

Everything is possible in darkness.

Is it?

It is.

I see.

It’s too dark to see.

I know.

That’s it.