The Captain Is Out to Lunch

1/18/92 11:59 PM

Well, I move back and forth between the novel and the poem and the racetrack and I'm still alive. There isn't much going on at the track, I'm just struck with humanity and there I am. Then there's the freeway, to get there and back. The freeway always reminds you of what most people are. It's a competitive society. They want you to lose so they can win. It's inbred and much of it comes out on the freeway. The slow drivers want to block you, the fast drivers want to get around you. I hold it at 70 so I pass and am passed. The fast drivers I don't mind. I get out of their way and let them go. It's the slow ones who are the irritant, those who do 55 in the fast lane. And sometimes you can get boxed in. And you see enough of the head and the neck of the driver ahead of you to take a reading. The reading is that this person is asleep at the sould and at the same time embittered, gross, cruel and stupid.

I hear a voice now saying to me, „You are stupid to think like that. You are stupid one.“ There are always those who will defend the subnormals in society because they don't realize it is that they too are subnormal. We have a subnormal society and that's why they act as they do and do to each other what they do. But that's their business and I don't mind it except that I have to live with them.

I recall once having dinner with a group of people. At a nearby table there was another group of people. They talked loudly and kept laughing. But their laughter was utterly false, forced. It went on and on.

Finally, I said to the people at our table, „It's pretty bad, isn't it?“ One of the people at our table turned to me, put on a sweet smile and said, „I like it when people are happy.“ I didn't respon. But I felt a dark black hole welling in my gut. Well, hell.

You get a reading on people on the freeways. You get a reading on people at dinner tables. You get a reading on people on tv. You get a reading on people in the supermarket, etc., etc. It's the same reading. What can you do? Duck and hold on. Pour another drink. I like it when people are happy too. I just haven't seen very many.

So, I got to the track today and took my seat. There was a guy wearing a red cap backwards. One of those caps that the tracks give away. Giveaway Day. He had his Racing Form and a harmonica. He picked up the harmonica and blew. He didn't know how to play it. He just blew. And it wasn't Schoenber's 12 to scale either. It was a 2 or 3 tone scale. He ran out of wind and picked up his Racing Form.

In front of me sat the same 3 guys who were there all week. A guy about 60 who always wore brown clothes and brown hat. Next to him was a crooked neck and round shoulders. Next to him was an oriental about 45 who kept smoking cigarettes. Before each race they discussed which horse they were going to bet. These were amazing bettors, much like the Crazy Screamer I told you about before. I'll tell you why. I have sat behind them for two weeks now. And none of them has yet picked a winner. And they bet the short odds too, I mean between 2 to 1 and 7 or 8 to 1. That's maybe 45 races times 3 selections. That's amazing statistic. Think about it. Say if each of them just picked a number like 1 or 2 or 3 and stayed with it they would automatically pick a winner. But by jumping around they somehow managed, using all their brain power and know-how, to keep on missing. Why do they keep coming to the racetrack? Aren't they ashamed of their ineptness? No, there is always the next race. Someday they will hit. Big.

You must understand then, when I come from the track and off of the freeway, why this computer looks so good to me? A clean screen to lay words on. My wife and my 9 cats seem like the geniuses of the world. They are.