jonberger

It wasn’t so long ago that it happened.
It was on the West Side
that the meeting occurred
where among the shoddy white corridors of power
of one of the most illustrious schools of its kind
I had the select opportunity
to meet the man himself:
Jon B.

Herb made the arrangements.
He saw something special in the guy
not yet the international phenomenon
he would someday become.
Herb was impressed by his potential
and set up a photoshoot
so he could someday say, “I knew him when.”

Herb asked me there as his assistant
to handle lights and carry crap.
The pay was gonna be a sandwich.
How could I say no?

We arrived early to prep the scene.
Jon took his time to arrive.
When he got there
returning to his alma mater,
all smiles and grace,
he seemed expansive, comfortable,
big.

Herb introduced himself
and me
and began peppering Jon with questions
about his life and his art
and how he wanted to be shot.

Jon was not yet comfortable
being the center of attention
but got into it
as Herb further directed him:
“Pout, baby, Pout!”
I held a diffuser and kept quiet
but watched this guy
who was expected to become a star,
according to Herb.

This guy was destined to be something soon
apparently
and he seemed normal.
He seemed scattered.
He seemed human.
He could have been me.

“Are we about done?”
Jon eventually asked.
“I think we got the right kind of pictures,”
Herb replied, then looked at me.
I shrugged. What did I know?

We closed up shop
and I wiped up sweat.
Jon B went on his way.
I’m not sure if I ever got my sandwich.

Now Herb is Herb
and Jon B is frigging JON B
and I now stand before you
here to tell the tale.

Thanks for showing me the way.

I know now how to search when you go
(which you always seem to do).
Whichever way the wind blows
I’ll hunt when I look for you.

The places I’ll see you may vary.
Through a thousand directions you’ll fly
Whichever way the wind could blow
I’ll find you, finally, by and by.

The wind blows leftally, rightally, through.
The wind blows through me, through streets, to you.
The wind doesn’t care what it crushes, or who.
The wind hasn’t given a thought to us two…
but neither have you…

If I am to be your friend,
as I’ve always been hopeful to be
then whichever way the wind blows
is where to expect to find me
among the last places you flee
searching invariably
for the finest opportunity
to seek out and maybe find thee.

What happened was this:
I learned to flirt
in a brash untempered way.
No control
like a fan of flirting,
blasting air in some direction
not exactly clear on my target
unsure of intent.

I was still in school
so I was supposed to be learning
I guess
but I was in college
so maybe this should have been old hat.
Anyway, I told her she should smile more
and she took a shine to me
but so did a couple of her hallmates.

I’m such a successful player
that it all worked out really well
in the end.
It took months
but it all eventually untangled.

None of them talk to me now
but then again it’s decades later
and who talks to me now anyway?

So what happened is this:
I lived.
I tried.
Nobody died
yet.

When the sun goes down
it can be beautiful, for sure
but when the sun goes DOWN
it will be a thing of beauty and terror
that will leave other bodies dust
and ours scorched marks.

When the sun goes down
it will first have grown
into a great swollen red beast
bursting with violent force
waiting to waste worthier foes.

When the sun goes down
the oceans will have boiled off
sizzled into non-existence
steamed up, up and away!

When the sun goes down
life will be long gone
from the sphere.
The rock will be dead
and soon the system
will succeed on the same passage.

When the sun goes down
it’s all going down.
It’s gonna be gorgeous
but we won’t be here to see it.
We’ll either be gone from here
or just gone, you know?

Gone, daddy, ’cause momma
didn’t take care of us no more.
Anyway,
when the sun goes down
it’s gonna be a sight to see
but no one’s gonna be able to see it
’cause there won’t be any light left
’cause the sun went down.

The thing about media
is that if what you’re consuming right now
is bumming you out,
the next thing you consume
– you know: watch or read or listen to
(maybe eat or drink or smell
if you take in your information that way,
I don’t know)
might be funny or exciting
or informational.

And I’m not talking about media
to mean news, of course.
It could be, but I’m talking about the transportation
of ideas.
You get it, right?

Anyway, the thing about media is
it’s constantly changing
and your interests in it
are constantly changing, too.
You could like different streams
from different directions
and different amounts
and different kinds
– which could be different from streams
but could be the same…
there are just so many variables!

You could take it from the start
take it from the rear,
go en media res.
The sky’s the limit!
The thing about media is
there’s no way you can’t take it
except how they don’t provide it to you.

So… there’s that.
That’s the thing about media.

This has proven an imperfect place to work
on the art.
The noises and the smells are distracting
as is the incessant mess.
The weather – both seasonally hot and cold
in varying degrees –
get in my way
when I least want them to.

And when I say mess
you think you understand the word
but you may not imagine the huge
undulating mounds that quiver and pass
and the life forms within that seem friendly
but defy identification.

It’s a strange world in which I reside
a world where imagination holds sway
and brings fresh breath to my thoughts.
I do not get a moment’s peace
with odd folk constantly in my way
asking how I am,
wondering where I’ve been.
It’s a madhouse, I tell you!
Insanity reigns!

And that, perhaps
is its finest imperfection,
the cracks where the light comes through.
For from the madness of my home
is this how I renew?
Yes. It’s how I am most true.

The power’s running out
so time is seriously at a premium
for me to say what I want to say
and I have to be efficient with my keystrokes
because if I have to correct myself
I lose time
and power
and then my ability to express myself
with tech is lost
at least for now
so as I mentioned
I have to be careful in my production
but I hope you are being sure
in these dire times
to not waste the power you have
in silly and inefficient ways.

Please
let me know if you got this.

Happier people – the ones that walk
with smiles and live like childs
and act like regular philosophiles –
seem to have constant thanks
for the world around them.

For them
gratitude is a regular state of mind,
not just a third Thursday sort of thing.
They know something,
with their insipid grins
and sense of wonderment
and appreciation and blessings.

They are joyous just to be here
and not bitter about each and every thing.
They are ridiculously happy
and don’t have to make themselves sick
with stuffing just to get through another day.

These gratefulphiles think they’re onto something special
with their smug sense of laughter
and love and liberty
but really I’ll just be glad to get away from their exultation
and get their deviance
out of my sight.

Not to bum you outbut Stan just said something
and I’m afraid that if I share it with anyone
it might shatter you
to your very core
so I am having
something of a conundrum
right now.

Currently I am of two minds
as to whether I want to spare you
the pain
of the knowledge
of what I have learned from Stan
though it is something you will certainly learn about
in time.

Will these extra innings of ignorance
allow you some peace
or will you curse me
for keeping you blinded
from what was soon to come?

Though now, of course,
having shared with you the choice
there is really no choice at all,
is there?
Why did Stan put me in this position?
He knows I’m a fink!

All right. screw it.
I’m sorry. The truth will always out:
we’re out of mashed potatoes
and all that’s left is yams.

What?
You know how I feel about yams…

For my doctor’s appointment
they told me to come 15 minutes early
presumably so I could do whatever necessary paperwork
they might have for me
and then they sent me links online
to do paperwork in advance.

This is a doctor I’ve been going to for years
so I doubted there would be additional things to sign.
Still, as I am a good little follower of rules,
I arrived fifteen minutes early
to find no one behind the desk
at my doctor’s office.

I stood waiting by the desk
for about fifteen minutes
until someone came by
just to tell me to have a seat.
I didn’t even give my name to check in!

I got called in for my appointment like
two minutes later.
Just about on time.

I guess I’m kind of thankful
that my doctor was basically prompt
for my recent visit
and that overall
I’m still healthy.

I hope you can say the same.