On Sunday, October 23, 2022 at 8:25:58 AM UTC-4, Zod wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:
> > General-Zod wrote:
> >> Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> >>>>>>>>> Passage Through Ennui
>
> >>>>>>>>> 35 years ago
> >>>>>>>>> it was another
> >>>>>>>>> long bitter Summer
> >>>>>>>>> that dark humid July 1985.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I was working
> >>>>>>>>> the graveyard shift
> >>>>>>>>> operating one of the service elevators
> >>>>>>>>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Galatea and I
> >>>>>>>>> had split up again
> >>>>>>>>> earlier in the year
> >>>>>>>>> after our explosive reunion
> >>>>>>>>> in 1983.
>
> >>>>>>>>> It ended quickly
> >>>>>>>>> after a huge fight
> >>>>>>>>> with her brother
> >>>>>>>>> over an old score
> >>>>>>>>> usually forgotten.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I won the fight
> >>>>>>>>> but actually lost.
> >>>>>>>>> Tracy gave up
> >>>>>>>>> and Galatea left with him.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The year
> >>>>>>>>> it all came apart
> >>>>>>>>> seemingly permanent.
> >>>>>>>>> Two years of good times
> >>>>>>>>> ended in a moonshine rage. .
>
> >>>>>>>>> All I could see was
> >>>>>>>>> a shut down gloom.
> >>>>>>>>> The only laughter I heard
> >>>>>>>>> was down in the break room.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The brown haze of factory air
> >>>>>>>>> angry faced people
> >>>>>>>>> and the music
> >>>>>>>>> of metal machines.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Working all night
> >>>>>>>>> sleeping all day.
> >>>>>>>>> Sipping coffee
> >>>>>>>>> to chase the road aspirins.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Sitting on the steps
> >>>>>>>>> over by a giant fan.
> >>>>>>>>> keeping up with my workers
> >>>>>>>>> usually five ladies
> >>>>>>>>> at the machines.
>
> >>>>>>>>> If one of the ladies
> >>>>>>>>> needed anything
> >>>>>>>>> they'd just look my way
> >>>>>>>>> and wave.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Several times a night
> >>>>>>>>> I'd make a buy and fly
> >>>>>>>>> bringing back coffee for them
> >>>>>>>>> on makeshift cardboard trays.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Jotting down notes
> >>>>>>>>> doodling narratives
> >>>>>>>>> creating reality
> >>>>>>>>> building Shadowville
> >>>>>>>>> from the ground up.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Riding my elevator
> >>>>>>>>> up and down
> >>>>>>>>> creating samizdat
> >>>>>>>>> in the smoking booth.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Down to the Reel room
> >>>>>>>>> my elevator filled
> >>>>>>>>> with empty racks
> >>>>>>>>> to bring up the full ones
> >>>>>>>>> for the ladies upstairs.
>
> >>>>>>>>> All night
> >>>>>>>>> keeping it rolling
> >>>>>>>>> making it smooth
> >>>>>>>>> for the ladies
> >>>>>>>>> to make production.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Finally to clock out
> >>>>>>>>> as the sad whistle would blow
> >>>>>>>>> we would stumble out the gate
> >>>>>>>>> into the grey dawn.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Some headed for breakfast
> >>>>>>>>> and a beer
> >>>>>>>>> while always I headed home
> >>>>>>>>> for sleep
> >>>>>>>>> as quickly as possible.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Living at Mockingbird Court
> >>>>>>>>> where I had shared a trailer
> >>>>>>>>> with my friend Bob Whitman
> >>>>>>>>> an Army vet turned factory worker.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Bob worked downstairs
> >>>>>>>>> at the Autoclave
> >>>>>>>>> the machine that steamed chemicals
> >>>>>>>>> into the yarn.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
> >>>>>>>>> ran the huge Dryers
> >>>>>>>>> a super hot
> >>>>>>>>> chemical steam bath area.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Jim married
> >>>>>>>>> my childhood friend Pamela
> >>>>>>>>> and passed away too soon
> >>>>>>>>> from a heart attack
>
> >>>>>>>>> I'm not sure how workers
> >>>>>>>>> down there
> >>>>>>>>> survived the heat
> >>>>>>>>> and harsh smell.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Actually
> >>>>>>>>> I noticed not so well
> >>>>>>>>> as years went by
> >>>>>>>>> several old friends
> >>>>>>>>> still haunt me.
>
> >>>>>>>>> There was a guy named Bill
> >>>>>>>>> from Chicago
> >>>>>>>>> found in the Dryer room
> >>>>>>>>> coughing up blood from TB.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Chip, another Autoclave man
> >>>>>>>>> was found
> >>>>>>>>> giggling in the warehouse
> >>>>>>>>> up in the bales of fiber
> >>>>>>>>> one line of meth too many.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Little Rosell
> >>>>>>>>> on the Reels downstairs
> >>>>>>>>> hot little femme fatale
> >>>>>>>>> who I would know better later.
>
> >>>>>>>>> An unteresting lady
> >>>>>>>>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
> >>>>>>>>> and "Flashdance" shirt
> >>>>>>>>> she was the supervisors' choice.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
> >>>>>>>>> found in a hallway
> >>>>>>>>> died there of old age.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The list goes on
> >>>>>>>>> many who did not survive
> >>>>>>>>> until the shut down day
> >>>>>>>>> another poem for another day.
>
> >>>>>>>>> At that time of the night
> >>>>>>>>> with machines all running right
> >>>>>>>>> many of us could wander
> >>>>>>>>> have some coffee
> >>>>>>>>> and get some fresh air.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Bob was a good friend
> >>>>>>>>> at the job
> >>>>>>>>> quick with a joke
> >>>>>>>>> or pass his pipe for a toke.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Many smokers and drinkers
> >>>>>>>>> would hang out
> >>>>>>>>> on the porch
> >>>>>>>>> outside the Autoclave room.
>
> >>>>>>>>> When he heard
> >>>>>>>>> of my latest domestic disaster
> >>>>>>>>> Bob offered
> >>>>>>>>> to rent me a room.
>
> >>>>>>>>> In a rented room
> >>>>>>>>> in Bob's trailer
> >>>>>>>>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
> >>>>>>>>> without the laughs.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The bottom fell out
> >>>>>>>>> we didn't get along
> >>>>>>>>> outside of the job
> >>>>>>>>> so I moved out
> >>>>>>>>> to North Highland.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I moved in
> >>>>>>>>> next door to the Holt family
> >>>>>>>>> old school mill folk
> >>>>>>>>> in the former mill village.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
> >>>>>>>>> all worked at
> >>>>>>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
> >>>>>>>>> like their family before them.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Karen worked in the supply room
> >>>>>>>>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
> >>>>>>>>> Don covered my job
> >>>>>>>>> during the say shift.
>
> >>>>>>>>> For some reason
> >>>>>>>>> it was important to them
> >>>>>>>>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
> >>>>>>>>> that I was their cousin.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I never did figure that out
> >>>>>>>>> but it was cool with me.
> >>>>>>>>> I liked them all
> >>>>>>>>> they were down to Earth folks.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The day I moved in
> >>>>>>>>> I had my music playing loud
> >>>>>>>>> outside my window
> >>>>>>>>> was the river
> >>>>>>>>> and then Alabama.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I would never have imagined
> >>>>>>>>> how that area would look now
> >>>>>>>>> with the row of houses demolished
> >>>>>>>>> and with the Riverwalk below.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I was two floors up
> >>>>>>>>> but I still felt
> >>>>>>>>> like a mole
> >>>>>>>>> like a subterranean.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Wake up
> >>>>>>>>> it was Monday
> >>>>>>>>> I could hear Billy Teakson
> >>>>>>>>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
> >>>>>>>>> down below.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Billy was an old school
> >>>>>>>>> Card and Blending room man
> >>>>>>>>> never late
> >>>>>>>>> sick or well he was on the job.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Slither down the stairs
> >>>>>>>>> so far so good
> >>>>>>>>> jump in and ride on
> >>>>>>>>> the the alternate universe
> >>>>>>>>> the factory.
>
> >>>>>>>>> He never failed
> >>>>>>>>> to have a spare Budweiser
> >>>>>>>>> and a smoke
> >>>>>>>>> for the short ride to
> >>>>>>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.
>
> >>>>>>>>> We'd get there in time
> >>>>>>>>> to stand around the parking lot
> >>>>>>>>> and catch a few words
> >>>>>>>>> with the crew.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Then the whistle would blow
> >>>>>>>>> and it was on your mark
> >>>>>>>>> sail through 12 hours of dream
> >>>>>>>>> in another land.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
> >>>>>>>>> mill coffee
> >>>>>>>>> and then
> >>>>>>>>> in a determined stroll.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
> >>>>>>>>> and the upstairs Reels
> >>>>>>>>> to catch everything up quick
> >>>>>>>>> get the game going right.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Then down the elevator
> >>>>>>>>> to the Spinning room
> >>>>>>>>> sweat shop
> >>>>>>>>> a dozen ladies
> >>>>>>>>> smoking and yelling conversations.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Loud roaring
> >>>>>>>>> antique seeming machinery
> >>>>>>>>> all all points
> >>>>>>>>> no escape from
> >>>>>>>>> the chaos and thunder.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Get it all caught up
> >>>>>>>>> then down to the sub basement
> >>>>>>>>> to pick up the prize left for me
> >>>>>>>>> by Don
> >>>>>>>>> my first shift doppelganger.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Any time Don
> >>>>>>>>> skipped out early
> >>>>>>>>> and left everything
> >>>>>>>>> off the mark, it was no problem.
>
> >>>>>>>>> He'd leave me a joint
> >>>>>>>>> at a certain spot
> >>>>>>>>> in the sub basement.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The basement was
> >>>>>>>>> creepy enough
> >>>>>>>>> but the sub basement
> >>>>>>>>> seemed right out
> >>>>>>>>> of a horror movie.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Needless to say
> >>>>>>>>> I'd keep my head down
> >>>>>>>>> and would try to get out
> >>>>>>>>> of the sub basement quickly.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I had been distributing
> >>>>>>>>> my broadsheets
> >>>>>>>>> among my co-worker friends
> >>>>>>>>> news of the day
> >>>>>>>>> with a twist.
>
> >>>>>>>>> They were entertained
> >>>>>>>>> by my poetry
> >>>>>>>>> and comic strips
> >>>>>>>>> looking for themselves
> >>>>>>>>> in the lines on paper.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Pat, the personnel director
> >>>>>>>>> called me in her office
> >>>>>>>>> and put the kibosh
> >>>>>>>>> on my broadsheet.
>
> >>>>>>>>> My poetry and art zine
> >>>>>>>>> had violated the strict
> >>>>>>>>> "No Distribution" policy
> >>>>>>>>> that no outside reading
> >>>>>>>>> was permitted inside the mill gates.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Since I had not been
> >>>>>>>>> aware of this policy
> >>>>>>>>> I apologized
> >>>>>>>>> and kept the broadsides
> >>>>>>>>> outside the gates from then on.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Absolutely
> >>>>>>>>> no foreknowledge
> >>>>>>>>> of what was coming next
> >>>>>>>>> taking one minute at a time.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Getting from one minute
> >>>>>>>>> to the next
> >>>>>>>>> always in a hurry
> >>>>>>>>> caught up in the time
> >>>>>>>>> flashing by.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Not even giving a damn
> >>>>>>>>> or so I told myself
> >>>>>>>>> by that point in time
> >>>>>>>>> hoping for a speedy turnabout.
>
> >>>>>>>>> I never could have foreseen
> >>>>>>>>> twenty years later in 2005
> >>>>>>>>> standing in a crowd
> >>>>>>>>> watching the old mill in flames
>
> >>>>>>>>> I was living
> >>>>>>>>> in the worn out townhouse
> >>>>>>>>> at 3226 River Avenue
> >>>>>>>>> once part of a mill village.
>
> >>>>>>>>> First week of the month
> >>>>>>>>> was always annoying
> >>>>>>>>> so much noise
> >>>>>>>>> as I tried to sleep.
>
> >>>>>>>>> All day hearing Mr. Newberry
> >>>>>>>>> beating on the sides
> >>>>>>>>> of the houses with his cane
> >>>>>>>>> trying to collect his rent money.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Alone
> >>>>>>>>> in my upstairs office
> >>>>>>>>> writing my manifesto
> >>>>>>>>> in poetry and comic strips.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Right side duplex
> >>>>>>>>> next door to the Holden family.
> >>>>>>>>> Two stories overlooking
> >>>>>>>>> the dark green Chattahoochee.
>
> >>>>>>>>> If I had the foresight
> >>>>>>>>> I would know sitting and waiting
> >>>>>>>>> was wasting precious time
> >>>>>>>>> the cruelty of moments.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Time can't be saved
> >>>>>>>>> like in a bank.
> >>>>>>>>> I thought I was biding my time
> >>>>>>>>> while I was losing everything.
>
> >>>>>>>>> As the North Highland
> >>>>>>>>> sun blazed down.
> >>>>>>>>> And as the cool white moon
> >>>>>>>>> seemed to watch over it all.
>
> >>>>>>>>> The big rooms
> >>>>>>>>> and empty house
> >>>>>>>>> suited my mood
> >>>>>>>>> my lonesome and blue.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Looking out my upstairs window
> >>>>>>>>> dabbling on a canvas
> >>>>>>>>> not a clue
> >>>>>>>>> what was to come.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Walked down to Forte's Pharmacy
> >>>>>>>>> for a beer and some smokes
> >>>>>>>>> the place is long gone now
> >>>>>>>>> 35 years later.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Back then it was
> >>>>>>>>> the general store
> >>>>>>>>> where the locals stood around
> >>>>>>>>> shooting the breeze.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Although relatively close
> >>>>>>>>> the walk was winding
> >>>>>>>>> to get around
> >>>>>>>>> the far side of the factory.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Found a girl named Margo
> >>>>>>>>> she lived
> >>>>>>>>> a few doors down
> >>>>>>>>> from my place.
>
> >>>>>>>>> She said she liked my music
> >>>>>>>>> but had thought Bob Dylan's song
> >>>>>>>>> was The Clash
> >>>>>>>>> but I found her naivete charming.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Took her out and played the game
> >>>>>>>>> but my heart
> >>>>>>>>> just wasn't in it
> >>>>>>>>> I never saw Margo again
> >>>>>>>>> after that night.
>
> >>>>>>>>> At that time all seemed lost
> >>>>>>>>> just goes to show
> >>>>>>>>> I'm not much of a fortune teller
> >>>>>>>>> but kept hope alive.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Many nights seemed like others
> >>>>>>>>> so I trudged
> >>>>>>>>> through the days
> >>>>>>>>> wrote poetry
> >>>>>>>>> through the night.
>
> >>>>>>>>> Crossed my heart
> >>>>>>>>> and looked forward
> >>>>>>>>> to good luck
> >>>>>>>>> and happy days again.
>
> >>>>>>>>> No happy ending
> >>>>>>>>> was expected
> >>>>>>>>> in the foreseeable future
> >>>>>>>>> just more of the same.
>
> >>>>>>>>> -Will Dockery
>
> >>>>>>>>> ------------------------------
> >>>>>>>>> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >>>>>>>>> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>
>
> >>>>>>>> Lovely, quite an epic poem.....!
>
> >>>>>>> Thanks for reading and commenting.
>
> >>>>>>> This poem is another based on true events.
>
>
> >>>>>> Excellent rendition of a moment in time.....!
>
>
> >>>>> Good morning, thanks again.
>
>
> >>>> Right on....!
>
>
> >>> Hello again, my friend.
>
>
> >> Hi there....
>
> > Good evening, Zod.
>
>
> One of your all-time Hall of Fame productions...!

Good morning, thanks again.