As the bus opens up on the open road to who-know's where, Neil Young sings "hey Jo hi Jo, we're on the road to never." On the road, trying to sudy the chasm between what things are and what they appear to be, is a road to nowhere. Things are never what they appear these days. I think the confusion this creates contributes to the apathy of our culture. And the Internet, I guess the bottom line is, that if we can't look at each other despite our costumes and defensive demeanors, the contagion of this century, there is no amount of "information" to save us from ourselves. And God grumbles, "back to the drawing board."
I know I sound so serious but I am beat. I so much want to defend the Net because I am so grateful to be alive for this, coupled with the way I write, well I've been able to reach thousands of people out here and guess I will continue, this being the primary vehicle for my voice. I think apathy is the main enemy and it's easy to excite people if you work with them instead of determining how they should work. People, in basic pavlovian terms, want to do what makes them feel good. a paycheck is a long way from happy, huh? and hence, empathy.
kathy jo marx
anyway, it's true. there is like a tradionalist society up here. you do business with you friends and neighbors.
now i'm listening to vitalogy. it's even hot up here but I have a remote control and zap all around to exactly the tunes I want. cool.
I dread returning to the heat of the states. can you fucking believe this? I really, well I can't take it. I don''t do well in the heat and it's cool up here and still hot for here, but the rain and heat, that strange combination, seems to follow me.
we were on prince edward island where I will live with my husband. oh. that I can't call adam. I mean, I just feel like such an idiot. ross misreads me so much I was yelling at him on the ferry. I was. in a funny way, he'll tell you. and he really does want me to lay him out. it's like he demands I prove my superiority over and over. and he'll say anything to try and win an argument and contradict himself and I remember *everything* and lay him out constantly. man. but it is so exhausting. and he doesn't hate me even though I say, just give him time to figure out what's all wrong with me. I mean once he realizes he can't be with me, he has to lose me somehow so he'll hate me. I am just like the dame in broadcast news. oh well.
anyway, i'm going to write a killer column. it is so beautiful. oh, but green gables was such a disappointment. green gables is the life for me. . .
if you love anne shirley, don't go there. you get inside and learn L.M.Montgomery never lived there and nothing was original and I swear to god, from the front of the house (with no porch, as if green gables wouldn't have one) anyway, I took pictures of the view from the front and it's cool cause I got two golf carts from the green gables golf course that's right there. man. and I have a picture. and of the jo bus in the parking lot.
ross treats me like a circus animal but that is too base. I mean he doesn't mean to. he's just so proud. but I think he wants to be famous more than me. I just want to write netposts, be in love with someone and take the bus to answer phones. I mean, no, I can travel with madge but need a hotel where I can escape 'the gaze' for a little while. man. I am tired. see,
so I say if you love anne, don't go to green gables, but go to the island and drive around, find a house that fits the picture of green gables and make that place anne's home. I took a picture of a huge spotlight at green gables. man.
and if you love me, don't expect me to be what you need to be, exactly like you. man. every time I don't like something i'm supposed to, it like feeds this gig ross has that i'm evil to whoever's nice. and sure, after awhile I got so pissed. I took a shower and used two towels, forgot he would want to shower. man. we did have our tiffs. but it's like all on me to keep things at this intense level, like I have to figure everything out all the time. and I admit that since he let me act like a little brat ordering him to do whatever I want, I did. I swear I tried to keep it to a minimum. but it was like, no matter how I acted, it didn't matter. if i'm nice, he thinks it means all kinds of shit. I don't know.
i'm wigging. I admit it. I feel so bad for what i've said about adam. man. but on the other damn hand, I am not a fan, not like this. and if that isn't apparent in my writing, like this that happened to me on the bus across the island
adam's music is like the cool breeze that tingles your face right after you think the music is a cool breeze.
well, I mean there's the long silence before 'a murder of one' and I was so mad at ross for getting on my head about adam, I mean holy shit, I never sought adam out. I played out my little fantasy but I never took it too seriously but sometimes I admit I do. but I know the end isn't the game. I met so many people on the net that could have let me know where to find him. still do. but I won't do that. like I draw some line ross never did. and yet not. in a very strange way, i'm much more intense. but only in my head. adam keeps a sacred part of me alive. that's all I know.
so anyway, well I never wanted to take over adam's career. I never talked about what kind of songs they should do but I sure hope 'children in bloom' is on the second album. that's all. I never complained I don't think I did, I imagine I surely must have at some point. oh I guess, I don't know. but I don't feel like i've taken possesion of him. I don't try to be like I think he is. I have no desire to be Bob dylan. I don't talk about what direction I think the music should take or any shit like that. i've never commented on some of the weaker moments in his lyrics even though I admit I wanted to. but
I don't know. but in the bus I put on the crows over and over singing along real loud. I just need to keep adam as a beautiful dream. he enables some of my best writing. the thought of him. and it will hold my heart in tact until I find someone. or maybe find him to be who I think he is. that's all. man.
and P.E.I. is the most beautiful place and even on ferrys, truck drivers lean against anything and smoke and look at me from behind mirrored lens. cool hand jo. man. what a whore I am.
oh I have to write my column but I got some time alone and started my column in the first post, but the story hasn't taken me there yet. i'm going to talk about what happened to me in new york. about the jo zone and what a dick I was in the mountains.
but anyway, my words, well, poetry is the space between what we say and what we do. you only learn that by seeing *how* people say what they do. I don't know adam. but i've never felt what I felt when I saw him singing mr.jones. I wept. but I have had doctors write to me, brought to tears by my posts. imagine the wigdom they must go through.
ah ha. I am a witch to you bastards, the all-powerful jojo. I know I wig out ross. I can read him like a book and he screams 'fuck you' and I said, 'told ya' and he flies off the bus.
ah ha, the mighty jo. man. but he acts like i'm just so smart but *he* has me all figured out. well not anymore. broke him of that. but I do have to say he has been perfect in all other ways. he really is so dedicated and would do anything for me. man. I don't want you all to think i'm scoffing at that. I know how this world can be. how people can be. ross is a good guy.
oh on my knees I beg adam's forgiveness if I ever did this to him. I never thought I had him figured out, I mean and i'd get so much conflicting mail about him and the closer the person was to him, the darker the picture became. and I never told a word of it, did I? because I can imagine some of the shit people who claim to know me will say.
I have nothing to prove. I am what I am. that is it. I have no leaders and boy do I sound like a dick. but adam soesn't determine any aspect of him. man, and he if he think it did, i'm mad. but what frame of reference for some crazy chick on the internet writing about him does he have?
oh, i'm going to open my column about going to new york. the velveteen underground, describing the greyhound bus. i'll get greyhound to pay for my trip next time. maybe.
greyhound is my favorite color...
oh yeah, this resort called white point let me stay there free. I had lobster and sparkling wine delivered to my cottage. the manager left me a fruit basket and a card. and the cottage had a wood stove and was right on the beach, the chilly night air and the sound of the serf was so cool but never was I so afriad some man was going to come and kill me. so I slept with my bedoom door opened. and I went out in the dark, so beautiful. the surface of the water was pastle yellow blue mother of pearl.
I never knew how many stars there were. I could see stars straight ahead! and the only way to see the water was by watching its rippling white edge pushing at your toes after dark. I had a peach gauze dress on and spun around. they call it white point cause there is always this fog, and the temp. by the water is always like 60 degrees, just walking up the rocks, it goes up 20 degrees. well maybe not that much. but man, and the water hitting off the rocks, each time, each and every time is so dramatic, I could watch forever.
but at night, spinning on the sand, man, it was really, really cool. cool cool cool. anyway, not being able to see anything, just fog. really, like magic. scary magic. but so neat. and the color of the entire beach would change each time a wave crested. so much blue light in the fog. man. can't find a better man. she dreams in color she dream in dread locks. she lies and says he doesn't matter to her. can't find a better man. can't find a real man. settles for a magic man. she don't want to live this way. she needs him. that's why she'll be back again. can't find a bitter man. oh, that's not true...
anyway, I was like in a resort like in dirty dancing. I swear I thought I saw johnny and baby doing the cha cha right down the road. and, off to the right of the ocean is a lake. all kinds of little fresh water lakes with tons of lillies. one of the only places in the worlk with pink ones, and there are these purple flowers that grow in the water. and the water is like this cold clear brown. it really is so beautiful. and the clouds follow me and the sun never lets up completely. I love the changing sky. I do.
tomorrow morning, I head out. P.E.I was sad. me and ross argued. I couldn't even like something without him going 'ah ha' like he won. I mean, well I got so obnoxious. he's driving around doing all kinds of stuff right now. I told him all this before. I didn't let people see the columns first. but I don't know. I have to trust myself. I already feel pulled in so many directions at once as it is. those columns aren't the same as the posts. sorry. if you have complaints, well bob only yelled at his cats once but in the columns, everything said has to be part of some bigger plan. my posts aren't limited like that. so i'm sorry. for the record, even though things got a little strange in rochester, everything was totally cool when I left. I felt really good.
and up here in nova scotia, they're getting better. i've been here almost a week. I sleep on the kathy jo bus and love it. I still have no idea what's going to happen to me when I get home with my job and all that. damn. I wish I could just travel around and stay with the different people like for a few months, you know? like get a little job in each place. really see what it was like. after a few days at each house, I feel pretty comfortable. but maybe only cause I know I get to leave. I don't know. but I talked to my honey madge and she's wigging. aw. I do feel like i'm holding her back. but I just need money. that is our whole problem. if she leaves now, I got to deal with the whole rent and I just can't. if I didn't have to worry about that, there would be no worries. money. hate it. I don't know. I just told her to hold on. i'll get a book deal and I just so much want to take her with me. i'm not as funny without her. well i'm rarely that funny with anyone. she makes me so comfortable. I had no idea. I don't know. my poor little daughter madge. aw. we'll be okay, I told her to just hold on. but if she needs to split, well, i'll be so all alone. but maybe, well I get what I need.
anyway, me and ross got some PFC , kentucky fried chicken in french is like fried chicken de la kentucky. funny. and we met some guy last night, a farmer you know what I mean and he said 'and that' a hundred times and they laugh big up here. and ross is a very, very kind man who just was killing me, testing me constantly in a game he had me set up to lose anyway, so I don't know. but I did all kinds of groovy writing on the bus.
writing weekly in strange houses at strange computers is tough. but after new york city, I have my mind in a mode where I can write anywhere. long hand if I have to. but I mean, I get so scared one of these times, I just won't be able to get those zinger lines. well, okay, didn't get the anne suite the night on PEI but watched an excellent pbs special about canadian garbage pickers. the one guy has 90,000 in the bank. wild. his mother had been schizophrenic and killed herself. it was so well done. man. the images were perfect.
and ross should be respected because he has made his own life and doens't have to work too much and owns land and is loved by his friends and family. even though when he started writing he said he didn't want a dependent female but you all do. on some level. ross demands it. but he no get it from jojo so he get so mad at me and I just smile like a little bitch gaurding the top of the hill. yep.
but he's a bullheaded bastard and he said I was cruel, but then I made him laugh, because I KNOW I am not the first person to accuse him of that. but since he thinks I don't know him, he can act like it's not true. but I laid him out, told him I saw how he acted with his sister.
and he said the most frustrating thing about me is that i'm always right.
see, at least there's hope for him.
hi, i'm half done with my column. I feel so damn tired. I don't know.
East Port Medway,
South Shore, Nova Scotia