About Russell Scott Day

I come from sailors and priests. My aim is to prevent apocalyptic riot, better known as nuclear war, when I was growing up. Creating a nation of airports will create the peace enough environment to prevent apocalyptic riot. I had a vision due to a period of boredom and bliss like the Aleph of Borges. That is the story I learned and was made up and happens.

Yeah I Hit Him

Oh yeah I hit him.

What'd yah expect me to do?

He had his arm around you.

He kept saying he was sorry.

He had something to be sorry for, medicine

So I hit him.

What'd you expect?

You're a little trouble maker you know.

You're a hot little flirt sometimes.

I mean sometimes I like it.

When it's coming my way.

I think I hurt my hand.

Come on kiss it and make it feel better.

I didn't kick him that hard.  He'll be all right.  What a night.

Think you can drive?

We gottah get out of here.

Somebody might have called the cops.

Yeah I hit him.

What'd yah expect!

He said he was sorry too much.

The Dawn Patrol

The Dawn Patrol

 

The dawn breaks.

Each man rolls in his bed, cough

in the arms of his woman.

Soon they will face in the skies.

They are the fighter pilots.

The German Ace, and the American Hero.

Each one, his thoughts the same,

From the first glance through the curtains,

What Clouds, What weather?

Will I live today?

And it is the same thoughts

In the heads of their mistresses.

 

Choice and Chance

have brought them to this day,

this place and time,

When they are both pilots.

They check] their guns.

The lineman pulls down sharply.

The engine coughs, and he is a waving blur.

On the rudder and they turn full power into the wind.

The tail bounces and lifts.

The whole plane leaps into the sky.

For one the Sun is on the left.

For the other, on the right.

They and their companions race to meet.

 

From half a mile up they look down.

What are those little men doing down there?

Of course it is the same thing,

Only below they creep and crawl.

Both pilots pity those below.

At least they have this view.

At least if they are to die,

They will not be just soldiers,

but pilots.

This was their whole hearted choice in the matter.

 

Then the moment for thoughts and remembrances is gone.

They are on each other.

Straight on they come for just a moment,

And then it is down and away for speed,

Up and after each other in turns.

And in turn after turn, and dive after dive,

For seconds they see their chances,

and fire.

 

From the corners of their eyes

they see trails of smoke.

Burning men with nowhere to go,

and no time.

Until it is only these two

Circling and skidding

and wishing the other would explode before them,

So they could just go home.

 

Then as the German Ace feels the American Hero

pulling tighter behind him

He dives, but not fast enough,

Not hard enough, and he turns.

What was he thinking?

It is too late.  The American Ace dives too;

And Fires.

The bullets smash into the cockpit

tearing through the Germans' body.

 

That night one boy from the farms of the Midwest

is dancing and holding her tight.

Across the fields, in a similar place,

One woman sits alone.

Before her is set a drink.

She is crying.

Another man in a uniform with little wings

and an Iron Cross,

Puts his arm around her,

As if to comfort her.

Need Some Glue

Think I need some glue.

I'm trying to stay together.

It's hard and I think I need some help.

When I was younger I cared so much about every little thing.

Now I don't care and miss it.

Miss caring.

Days go by and nothing happens.  I go nowhere.  Don't even turn on the stereo.

Days go by and I live in concrete.

I hardly move.

But I see the light!

Love that bitch!

Without your carpet she will no laugh and be the queen.

It's all ridiculous.  We 05 as well dance to songs without words, ailment and draw pictures of the insides of our brains.

Happy Days pal.

Erato Oversleeps Again

But these are not the words I had in mind. Those I’d imagined pulsed with subtle light; These fit like sculpted stone, apt of design, But grounded, not quite capable of flight.

Should I then wait her pleasure, she who stints, Content to learn a patience that I lack? Or shall I, like Deucalion gathering flints, Collect dead words and cast them to my back,

Hoping by sweat and dogged diligence To wrest from her the gift she will not give. Is it enough to strive for sound and sense, Trusting the words to rise at last, and live?

Coy, she flees whenever I pursue; I’ll turn my back – what else is there to do?

"Erato Oversleeps Again" refers to Deucalion, the Greek Noah, who after a universal flood was told to gather stones and throw them over his back. As they struck the earth they sprang to life as living men and women.

Beyond Seventy

The smallest things are where the menace lies: A clock's remorseless ticking, capsule measured, stark, Its second hand, scorning to compromise, Moving by millimeters toward the dark;

The devastation mirrors calmly show; The idle hours combing a lonely shore For memory's flotsam, wrack of long ago; The slow decay we struggle to ignore.

Such are the givens of our failing years. We can endure them since, in fact, we must. Our one true pain? Those who would share our tears Have one by one gone down to muffling dust.

Our solace? That the darkness which we dread Shall seem like light: it holds our sacred dead.

Rainy Day in the Library

…seeing we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, generic let us run with patience the race … Hebrews 12:1

11 enters, decked in drifting mist. Unsmiling pilgrim, somber faced and gray, It does not know- or care – that on this day Some call to mind the often nameless list

Of saints and martyrs who have gone before. The faithful gather at each hallowed shrine To sing their hopeful hymns of those who shine In glory on some other, better shore.

But in this quiet place no chants or prayers Rise up. I sit alone where, row on row, A silent cloud of witnesses looks on. Another sort of sanctity is theirs: The sometimes skeptic wisdom that they sow Shall still bear fruit, though they are long since gone.

Note: 11 1 is All Saints Day among Christians.

Rewrite Called for

Transcendia from me is grandiose for I have few followers. Certainly I have always had a problem with armed followers and war. Now I know my people need to be armed and understand themselves as part of the army. I want them to have the best. It turns out they can only get the best that they can buy. They can only get and carry the best that ICAO (International Civil Aviation Organization.) will allow.
I’m not in negotiation with the ICAO. I don’t have the money to travel and see people in person over these things.
Maybe this year pictures will sell. You’ll be able to buy them here. I’m a poet and a photographer. Poetry is ot a money maker for me. I’ve written some competitive poems. The idea is for some of the to be thought of, recited for long after I’m gone.
The photographs have a life. 115 years is the time before those I’ve been making are said to start fading.
Before then they would have been reproduced it anyone was seriously concerned with them.
Anyway my wife altered me to the showing again of The Mouse That Roared.
Most of the time that movie made me cringe. Still I watched again and it was better. The army had weapons. They had long bows which can be deadly.
I don’t intend to be a living farce. I might fail to create a nation of airports, but I won’t be a farce.
My plans would fullfil at least one of Andre` Lewin’s Points for Reinvention of the UN. Really they would take up at least two points for he added Television from my points for Transcendia simply of its own.
Transcendian Television would provide a lost balance between FOX and Al Jazzera and even MSNBC. C-Spah is not making it, nor should we expect it to.
When despots flee they go to the airport and they may as well stay there, in a manner of speaking.
Transcendia could fulfill that point of his desiring an Exile Island.
Overall I expect Transcendia to be a moderating influence on the political roil of the world.
I fail because pilots for the most part don’t know about me, and if they did, wouldn’t much want to be involved long as one precept of Transcendia is legalized marijuana.
We all know why marijuana ought to be legal, but it is an individual price paid for saying to anyone in power that you are for its legalization.

Tired

Aside

I’m healing slow. The scar stays there with a little little scab. I won’t touch mine like the guy did next to me at the rehab he kept touching his scab. He kept pressing on his wound and wanted the pus out.
It was hell listening to him. I’m sorry to say this. I’ll change the subject to a dream.
Down the roof walk past windows and there at the end was a wonderful pile of junk.  You can judge a guy by how good his junk is.
Helicopter bodies covered in rotten tarps with grass grown up in around the round shells of the lawyer company owned company? Enstrom,, something like that.  I wanted to meet the guy that owned such junk.

He came out with is wife who was staring mean at anyone come from the roof.  “Fine helicopters.”  I said.

“Thank you.”  He said.  “I have one running over at the airport.”

“Terrific.”  I said.  He was wearing a white shirt and blue jeans and thick glasses.  His hair was medium length.

By then his wife had gone on to taking clothes off a clothesline, so he was a green fellow you saw.

“I’ll leave you now.”  I said because I had shown up unannounced and from the roof.  I left.
At the airport I had a friend who brought me a cardboard box with parts of a radio in it.
I loved that radio when I got it to work in a wood frame that was a sculpture to me. My brother smirked at it, and probably threw it in the trash when I gave it to him when I was moved again and had nowhere for it.
Many radios and books are long gone.
Even now I have recorders around me.
I used to record all around me all the time.
That’s not really. What really I did was record talking when groups were going to be together.
There are transcription programs now.

Legal Pad Part II

Delivered Constipated.
Late, I’m Severely Constipated & Full of Laxatives.
No potty for right leg safe angles to hold and prevent after op dislocation.
Bedpans of miniature green cracked plastic.
Bed too small.
Gas and Bloated Try.
Night Then Day.
Day of Drama and Trauma.
Shitting 4 pounds at once in Bed pan & all that entails.
Doctor does visit and orders blood clot test.
Night of Terrors.
3 Fire alarms.
Legs in reductors. No crutches. One man on duty.
Couldn’t even crawl.
Spasms overtake my body.
Hydrating and finally getting some anti- spasmotic drugs.
Tazanidine?
Regaining control.
Dream of bar, family and friends.& songs of Sex.
2 AM waked.
Light, asik for oxycontin 2 2:15, 2 AM
Pain Management Doctor?
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.
Haircut.
Fingernails.
Private ambitions.
Show me the Revolution!
Fix.
Then I write a list of my Doctors who love me.
Doctors and nurses become my only friends.

I awake and put the urinal between my legs.
Two young tall angry girls walk in.
“Can you urinate or use the bathroom by yourself?”
“You picked the perfect time to ask.” and I produce the poorly filled urinal.
When I ask them stammering to find ne a toilet with a 4 inch riser, they say, “they”, the thing has to be ordered per need.
I need one as then I am in the rehab facility,
What! What What sort of world is this!

Back to Scanton and the happy work on the stupid movie.
The hobby story rocket worked well for lunch launch.
The Super Girl flirted with “us”.
I was for it.
My thoughts return to problems at hand.
Shitting. Goddamnit!
Subject Change:
Capitalism aids
Distribution
So as to enable higher population than otherwise
likely according to natural law.
There you have the Berlin Airlift, and chickens in planes flown to the islands.

I dreamed of two actors on a summer Brooklyn roof
talking about poverty.

There you went, rolled in,
and all the TVs are contributing different channels loud like SkitsoFrenia.
I think of the starving pigs and their screams, the soundtrack for Hell.
My bone grind as I squirm in the too short bed
The infection frees me and I am back at the hospital.
Don’t go to Greenhaven if you can help it.
I won’t have to go back because I was dying there.

Legal Pad

Walk to real toilet.
7/14/12 Aim for Walking?
Aim for Speech in September
UNTV Banning of WMDS?
Space Elevator Techniques.
From near Earth down.
Carbon nanotubing.
How well does TV influence decisions?
Day to Day Work of Peace
Little things add up.
I need some Iranian input.

Frame Photos for the wall/ Coffee Maker
Hair Clipper/ Electric shaver?
Clothes Wash self?
Body wash schdule?
Send Mail to NY State.
Itchy legs.
Did Event!
Story Hospital Book Show.
Mom Photo? Sales? Show?
Sorry about Reverend and Dad.
Mail note.
XTREE