The Fountainhead

"I believe in conflict, Mrs. Wynand." - Howard Roark

§TA§O§ - Chapter 1 - THE BRAND IS FLY - Part 3/3

If I was going somewhere, chances are I WAS RUNNING

Through the darkness of Early-AM Monday with my backpack upon my back
Galloping like a Thoroughbred up the West Side Highway,
Steel-toed Dr. Martens pounding the asphalt road.

I didn’t do this every morn but when I did I made a special point to stomp.

Truth is I’m a Freight-Train, Mama,
Who got to Go-Go-Go like he oughta
Rock the Kasbah
Until da Rubber Soles
Won’ burn
No mo’...

I’m thinking NYC hasn’t seen the likes of a Sundance Kid like me
Since the dawn of the Macintosh CPU
A.K.A
1984
Cuz let us be honest...

How many ragamuffins do you see these days that floss and brush their teeth every night
Before tucking in curbside to fall asleep skyward facing?
Promise I not so crazy – just eccentric and positively fighting for The View.

Puddle!

Blues.
That’s what happens when you get caught up in the Fantasy of your own Hype -
You stomp an Icy Puddle with a boot that is long overdue for an appointment
With Doctor Cobbler and your wool sock gets all mucky 'N cold with frost.
Blues.

SISTERS, LOVERS, HATERS, BROTHERS

If you’re tuning in today or tomorrow
And you catch me Checkin’/Reflectin’ on my Styley/§TA§O§
Just remember to note that this cat Rep 1

The Mojo rises of The Father,
The Lord,
The High and Almighty Creator
Who for some reason decided to take an [X] amount of
Energy and set it equal to MC Squared
@ a Space/Time Coordinate O Locomotion
JON BLONDYN

Chugging and Choo-Choo-Choo-ing alongside Riverside Park
I look out on the lot of frozen ice that is the Hudson River,
Thinking that if my FREEDOM were across the way, over there in New Jersey,
I’d right now have to go tiptoeing ever so carefully
Just in order to have one part of the recipe for Discovery.

Steel-toes mowing along, I realize right then and there,
That for the first time,
I do believe my momentum has accumulated some Quantity/Quality of Inertia
That long gone are the days that I can sanely stand to be shackled or tied down
By anything that obstructs
My Vision and Direction.

What’s really on my mind is MONEY
My lack thereof,
And the fact that I’m just not wired to adequately perform
The functions demanded of a 9 – 5 job,
Whether that be a $100K/Year Corporate Mainstay
Or an $8.25/Hour robotic routine at a Ma and Pops Shop down the street.

Take special note -
This is not some spurious form of decision-making suddenly fancied.
My claim is supported by real data,
Gathered from a 7 + year scientific experiment
Subconsciously starring yours truly.

I’ve nearly reached the Pier when I hook a hard right turn
And roar towards three flights of concrete stairs I intend to swiftly fly up
As I think over my Résumé that explains just about everything -

Résumé -

Marie Callender’s: 2006 - 2007
Border’s Books and Music: 2007 - 2008
Allen’s New York Pizza: 2009 - 2010
P.F. Chang’s: 2010 - 2011
Cocina Del Charro: 2011 - 2012
La Costa Coffee Roasting: 2012 - 2013
Whole Foods Market, Bowery: 2013 - 2013

Honestly.

7 jobs in 8 years, and I’ve never been even so bad of an employee.
Each and every one of those jobs I ‘Retired From’ of my own volition;
I swear I get so bored its Incredible.

Up the stairs, I continue racing myself on with my Northward Heading.
Passing Trump Towers, I wave to the Russian Doorman who smiles and waves me back.
About once - and sometimes twice - a week, I sleep up there in those very Trump Towers
But that Tangent is another Story entirely
And seeing as we’re on the move I’ve got to keep a watch out
For those Icy Puddles.

Rounding the building’s corner from Riverside Drive to 72nd street
I’m now rushing East
And Full Throttle.

Now I’m warmed up.
Now I’m Rock ‘N Rolling.
Sky is still gray, but slowly beginning to light up
And Verily
The City is alive with Monday Morning.

People are bundled up like Snowmen, Snowwomen and Snowchildren.
Briefcases and Purses and Packs are swinging to the rhythm of their stride.
Cigarettes are going in ‘n outta lips.
Cabs are stopping in the middle of the streets.
Delivery Trucks are hauling past and fast.
Earth is shaking with the rumble of underground transit
As Train after Train barrels Uptown, Downtown, All Around
While I’m blitzing the blocks, raw with Passion.

I hook another hard right so sharp past Trader Joe’s
That the people watching
Probably talking right now on how I stole something Nice.

And while I’ve got all this activity surrounding me,
I’m as determined and focused as War Horse,
Galloping through No-Man’s Land,
Caught in the Barbed-Wire of all the mechanical exhaust
And fumes and smog and blah,
Latched and locked in my lungs and ripping each and every last one of my breaths apart...

Cough-Hock-and Spitting out a mouthful,
I rush past the Movie Theatre at Lincoln Center
And spot the Movie Poster for

Her

The Spike Jonze Latest

Then remind myself that I must go and see it soon -
Which further reminds me -
I left something off my Résumé -

OS

A Novel

Created 2005 - Present

I wheel about the corner at Central Park South,
Point up to Columbus -
Standing tall and centered at the Heart of his Circle -
And increase my pace about 3 knots to a sprint as I run down 8th Avenue
Against the tidal traffic of NYC in Full Swing and Session.

OS is my Life.
OS is my Love.
And if Man, Woman or any Conscious Creature could somehow know of their Purpose to Serve,
Then I would state with some amount of certainty that
OS is my Reason for Being,
The Creation beyond me,
A Gift to Enlighten the Mind, Heart and Will of One and All In Quest of Truth.

Crossing the Fruit Stand Finish Line with my arms raised like the Urban Olympian I am,
I slow my speed to a jog,
Huffing and puffing and watching the Sunshine beginning to break through the gray overcast.

'At last...'

I come to a stop at some apartment complex and drop my backpack on the steps.
I’m still catching my breath, about to start my stretch,
When a pedestrian stops in front of me,
An unlit cigarette,
Resting between her lips.

“You got a light?” she mumbles, as though only kinda sorta interested in starting her day.

I keep on inhale/exhaling something HEAVY as I put my hands on my hips,
Cock my head to the side,
Look her in the eye and wonder how there could even be any room for question.

Without word, I open my pack,
Reach in,
Spark and Light her Fire...

Without word, she turns her back and continues along as I stretch and sing:

“Don't you love her as she's walkin' out the door...”

LOVE YOU MADLY

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BLONDYN

§TA§O§ - Chapter 1 - THE BRAND IS FLY - Part 2/3

Honey it's cold outside...

I hustle into McDonald's @ Times Square, NYC like McFly himself -

Brown Dr. Marten Steel Toe'd Boots -
Both of which are torn and frayed and ripped at the seams -
Be tight and snug about my wool socks.

I got on three layers of jeans,
A long-sleeve T underneath two layers of sweatshirts,
Topped over with my coat and yes -
the coat zipper broke about a month ago.

I take off my skelly-cap,
Take the first breath that doesn't pinch and frost my icy lungs,
And realize that here at a 24 HOUR McDonald's at 4:45 AM on a Monday Morning -
With my bed and bag slung over my shoulder -
I'm precisely right where I should be.

"But McDonald's, look @ you..."

I'm having a look around,
Trying to remember how many years it has been since I'd last stepped inside a Micky D's,
While comparing my Childhood Memory of the interior with my Present Visuals.

'Ronald got High on Technology...' I thought, suddenly aware there was no real reason to be surprised.

I was at the Epicenter of a Fast City, Inside a Fast-Food Restaurant
That was potentially the fastest of the fast...
I figured that if High-Tec made Fast-Food even Faster,
I was positively due to witness some kind of Miracle.

"Following Guest," said the cute girl behind the Machine.

So I stepped up.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Good." she answered.

I pointed up to the Virtual Menu Screen.

"I'll have the Pancakes."

She started tapping the screen.

"Pancake Combo with Sausage, Hashbrowns and a cup of -"

"Just the Pancakes, straight up," said I, quick to cut her off.

She became very quiet after that.

I didn't entirely mean to be rude.
It's just she was typing so quick
I could feel that Combo Meal already digesting in my belly
And no,
That would
Not do.

I swiped my McDonald's Gift Card and started to wait.
Fact of the Matter is that I was at the Peak of Fitness.
NYC had Welded and Worked the Spirit within unto a Color and Form of something akin
To a TOP DOG; Special Emphasis on TOP; Special Emphasis on DOG.

My Routine Dietary Plan was Oats, Carrots, Peanut Butter, Apples, Kale and Carrots
And occasionally some kind of Meat.
I did Reading, Writing and Exercise everyday
And in between
Yo-Yo'D and Pinball'D from place to place about NYC.

Yeah I was skinny but so what?
I could hold my own weight
And figured that was enough; leave the rest for Ronald.

"Pancakes," she said, putting the bag on the counter.

About 15 Seconds.

"Maple Syrup and Butter inside," she added.

Clearly da Cutie knew what I was Digging.

"Thanks Cutie."

She waved her hand as though to wave me off and at that
I took up my bag,
Went looking for a seat.

I was walking parallel to a Diner-Style Counter -
Each of which had a personal TV affixed above
The circular Diner-Style Seats -
When her voice stretched out the speakers to reach me...

"We clawed, we chained our Hearts in Vain,
We jumped, never asking why...
We kissed, I fell under your spell
A love, no one could deny..."

A music video of Miley C. was on the screen and she was looking out at me -
Sharp and black-studded eyelashes about cobalt-blue eyes set over those candy apple lips.
How Lovely.

Naturally I took a seat right there,
Smoothed on the Butter, poured on the Maple,
Gave thanks and got down with the Dog Pound.

And while loving the cakes,
I'm listening to the guy sitting next to me as he explains to some other guy
About how back in the day he taught the Kids
That in order to be a Winner in Tennis,
You gotta keep the Ball in the Court...

And while still loving the cakes,
I'm watching this Disney Channel Star turned Diva -
Wearing only a tank-top, panties and Magenta Dr. Marten Boots -
As she holds to a chain as she sits and swings through Walls on a giant Wrecking Ball...

And while loving my last bite of the cakes,
I'm considering how Miley took it to the next level
And simultaneously, irrefutably, won the argument.

With Breakfast in the Furnace, I decide the time is ripe for a rip-roaring run.

I head to my Locker, drop off my bags and hit the streets like Makaveli the Don.

(Holla if you Hear Me)

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BLONDYN.COM

§TA§O§ - Chapter 1 - THE BRAND IS FLY - Part 1/3

I awoke to the Ringing of what I imagined to be a Golden Bell, no larger than a thimble.

Across the street, high above and attached to the height of the building,
Three bright and starry spotlights shone down through the darkness.
I sat up, yawned and stretched.
I had me a look around.

'Now who is doing that lovely sounding?' I wondered,
Unable to see beyond the cars parked and lined alongside the road.
I was cozy and for the moment, had no intentions of further suspending that comfort.

At X/Y Intersection of NYC, I was bundled up in a -22 Degree F Proof REI Sleeping Bag.
My bed-sheet - a tarp that boasts a classic shade of Tarp-Blue -
Was neatly folded over my mattress - a REI Inflatable Pad pretending to be Springs.
This was the nightly setup for the icy temp and like a D-1 Team we played it cool.
SISTERS, LOVERS, HATERS AND BROTHERS -
I know what this looks like but I assure you, I wasn't sleeping on the street -
I was on the sidewalk.

The Golden Bell continued ringing
With a hallowed tone that I figured could have only come from Heaven.
Suddenly I noticed a brand new brown paper bag aside my sleeping bag.
At once, I felt my eyes light up.

"A Gift..."

I pulled it to my side and had a look.

"Biscuits and Cookies..." I whispered, much enticed.

Inside the brown paper bag were about ten or eleven of them, sitting there and lookin' perty.

I checked my watch.

"Quarter after 4 AM, on a Monday Morning..."

I contemplated.

"Maybe I should wait..." I said, "Get some more sleep..."

At that comment, the sonorous vibrations of the bell faded to the darkness.

Silence.

I reached inside and grabbed a biscuit.
Raising it up, I gave thanks for the Gift bestowed upon me.
I took a bite and chewed and shortly after spit the mush bag into the bag.

"Jesus Christ," said I, not upset as I was amazed. "That has to be the worst biscuit I've ever tasted."

I put the biscuit back in the bag, took out a cookie and took a bite.

"Jesus Christ," I repeated, not in vain, but in a tone of even more sincere impression.
"Even the cookies taste like trash."

I started peering around real suspicious-like, wondering who would do such a terrible thing.
I was considering rousing myself up'n'outta my padded nook -
Prowling the block and rounding up the usual suspects for questioning -

When suddenly -

Out from the darkness -

Footsteps on the approach -

A shadowy form -

A...

Pedestrian...

Walking on the sidewalk...

Natural enough, I supposed, but I watched him as he neared, anyhow.

He had just passed me by when he stopped,
Reached into his pocket
And pulled out a buck.

"Hey, thanks man," I said, figuring this at least made up for the biscuit.

And while he headed on towards 42nd Street,
I remembered that just the night before, somebody else had passed by and
Handed me a $10.00 Gift Card to McDonalds.

'Pancakes...'

Yes, I thought, this new spot of mine was definitely City-Territory of worthy keep.
And seeing as X/Y Intersection wasn't all too far from Times Square
- where the 'Open 24 Hours' Neon Sign be King -
I fancied breakfast was duly in order.

So I made my bed, put it in my bag and moseyed on my way.

BLONDYN.COM

SISTERS, LOVERS, HATERS, BROTHERS...

Call me Jon Blondyn

Bcuz Possession is 9/10 the Law

And BLONDYN the BRAND I be remembered by

Autobiography of a Yogi

"The deeper the self-realization of a man,
The more he influences the whole universe by his subtle spiritual vibrations,
And the less he himself is affected by the phenomenal flux."

These words of Master's often returned inspiringly to my mind.

TRUE DAT

Operatin' under the crooked American system too long
OutKast, pronounced outcast
Adjective meaning homeless, or unaccepted in society
But let's look deeper than that

Are you an OutKast ?

If you understand and feel the basic principles and
Fundamental truths contained within this muzik, you probably are
If you think it's all about pimpin hoes and slammin cadillac doughs
You probably a cracker, or a nigga that think he a cracker
Or maybe just don't understand
An OutKast is someone who is not considered to be part of the normal world
He's looked at differently
He's not accepted because of his clothes, his hair
His occupation, his beliefs or his skin color
Now look at yourself, are you an OutKast ?
I know I am

As a matter of fact, fuck being anythang else

It's only so much time left in this crazy world
Wake up niggaz and realize what's goin on around you
Poisonin' of the food and water
Tamperin' of cigarettes
Disease engineering control over your life
Take back your existence or die like a punk
This is Big Rube, sayin right on to the real, and death to the fakers

Peace out

* * *

"When I stepped out into the bright Sunlight from the darkness..."

Check - Check - Check

Microphone Check 1, 1, 2, 3