The great information flood (William Paterson University ((Wayne)) & Bernards, NJ; Between Tuesday, February 25th & Tuesday, September 15th, 2020)


The great information flood 

“And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard

And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall”

Bob Dylan

His mind was overstimulated 

Too much, it seemed, needed to be articulated

Every day the damage done by president Trump & Covid19

further complicated a context in a way he’d never seen

until then… and 

it reminded him 

of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start The Fire” 

that line that gave him chills & made him perspire 

“Rock & Roller Cola Wars I can’t take it anymore”

The most basic awareness—an overwhelming chore

Like trying to sing along with Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”

& withstand the cacophony that was the daily news 

…goodness, even when he prayed @ the end of each day,

how was he to do it in a way that was universally inclusive

& they wonder, when hammered with so many fucking facts

(many severely disputed @ that), why our protag. was so damn abstract

Piles of snail mail & massive lists of emails & email accounts, 

keeping in mind that yolo, wanting to re-read Dostoevsky’s Notes From Underground

this time getting a sense of what it was really about 

& then decompress with The Beatles singing “Twist and Shout” 

do yoga, get better at sex, reply to text messages from coworkers, family & friends 

shouldn’t there be a vacation around the bend for he & his wife to take?

Hawaii, Europe, Australia (oh yeah, want to re-watch the Australian TV show Rake)

Take a cruise around the world

Let go of that confusing swirl

Of wonder about who’s telling the truth & who’s mad fucking fake? 

Fake like those “weapons of mass destruction” & Giuliani’s “Truth isn’t truth”

Trump supporters who just have no fucking clue

But “forgive them their sins they know not what they do”

god knows he’s had plenty a fucked-up opinion 

perhaps trying to stand out, being just one out of nearly 8 billion

he even Googled how to do it…if he could just properly coordinate his movements

& reduce all the excess bullshit we over accumulate & over produce 

Faces smooshed in smart phones while walking three wily poodles &

treading oodles of confusion in the middle of the fucking street & her kid

asked “mom, what does ‘skeet skeet skeet’ mean” & she quickly quipped

“nothing, hunny, just something obscene” oh but let the good times linger

like a long, long multivolume set of tome-songs by a free thinker…   


1 Wayne

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