the Lou-In

Went to the Lou-In at Lincoln Center, where we stood around listening to his songs, like a bunch of stragglers from all yesterday's parties.

It was like a strange concert with no band and no one to look at but each other. Geezers who have been exhibiting the same concert behavior since 1969. The guy with the backpack in the foreground was, like me, by himself, and he was doing the reptile head-jerk in time to Sweet Jane. There were people who were trying to look like they were underground insiders, and people I didn't recognize, but seemed to be celebrities, because they were instantly surrounded by photographers. That's Julian Schnabel in the white painter's pants.  

Laurie Anderson in the grey cap, white stripe up her leg. Should I have thanked her for inviting all of us?

a public prayer

I hate it when the Money World wants to dominate the Life World with its paranoiac delusions about the struggle for existence. 
The Money World wants to drug us with its numbers and logic and brainwash us with its Reality Principle hype.
I already wrote to you about the Money World and I don't want to write you the same letter again.
This is what is on my mind -
I want to publish a collection of poems, or psalms, or sutras, or whatever - blog posts - and call it Children's Death Threats to God.
Because the Children of God do the goddamnedest things.
We construct meaning systems to permanently fix the altered mental states of our ancestors, and then worship them like gods.
We are indoctrinated from birth, even before birth, with our second conception by the dominant software.
We are the alien stepchildren of empire, the imperial money world, exiles in this psychobabylon.
I eagerly await your letters, Cosmic Parent, written, as always, with invisible ink, and in code, and I will stare into their blank pages until I decipher or remember the invisible words. 
And I will hide your words in my database that I may not crash my brain on this money world.