prick with glasses

This guy comes into my work, suit and tie sort, crisp, chubby, orders epresso or something like it. He keeps his eye on me, I wasn’t taking his order, but I made his drink. He talks to me over the glass. People normally do, I normally gave half-aired responses and throw in a few funny one-liners. Not with this cat. He takes off his silver-rimmed glasses and starts polishing it as though it could get any shinier. Then he asks, “what are you doing? I mean, with your life. Answer me in one sentence and I’ll tell you if it’s lame or not.”

Shit. How does anyone answer that? Isn’t life just a pass-time of which we’re all passing through? I heard that in a lazy song once but decided that song spoke some harsh truth. So did this cat. It was a simple question. Why couldn’t I answer? I thought about the bullshit I would have said if I was on a first date but he could’ve been a salesman and seen right through it. I thought about telling him the truth and that would’ve either shut him up or would’ve had him conclude I was joking, inviting further conversation. But he got me. On the first try. That’s hard to do. So I avoided answering his question, pretending like I was busy, spitting jokes. This cat laughed but then said, “no really, what are you doing in life? One sentence.” Fuck this cat in his fucking suit, I thought.

After he’d gone was when I really thought about his question. What was I doing with my life? I feel I’ve accumulated enough knowledge with a balanced sensed of philosophy to make a difference. I simply lacked the motivation and the initiative. They were not so simple in contrast to a futilistic outlook. I inherited one of those. Everyone wants to be famous, advertise themselves on the internet. Not me man. I wanted to disappear and live in the real world. But this cat really put it into a blunt inquiry that may or may not have been a manifestation of my own subconscious. Fuck this cat. But he was right. What the fuck was I doing?

 

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Fantasies

The best years of your life, they want to steal. Your youth is the best time to assemble a disreputable past. Sure, your relationships have fairytale notes… on paper, but believe me, fairytales were never real. Those are trumped up expectations embedded into us in our youth to keep us good and predictable. Get out there and make some fucking stupid choices before you run out of time. Because I promise you your future selves will wish the same thing.

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Craigslist ad

Hello. I feel lost and uninspired. Things in life feel bland. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between being lost and waiting for something. I’m not a bad person. I do drink because there’s not much else to do though, but it doesn’t affect the my life in a bad way. Maybe it’s because I don’t want anything. I don’t stress over the things others do. I’m just bored. But Kierkegaard said boredom is the root of all evil. What if I do evil or become an evil person because I’m waiting to be called? I own a bible but wasn’t raised on it. I believe most of it. Sometimes, I ask a question then flip it open and point to see where chance answers are. It works sometimes but works better in a bukowski book of poems. I dunno. I’m rambling now, but I think that emphasizes my feeling of being lost. Thank you.

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Don’t let them change you

They say you can’t change someone. It’s true. But once in a while you meet someone that makes you want to change into a better person. That’s important in a mate that they can do that to you. It’s a sign of respect too. The best part is that they would have you believe it to be your idea from the start.

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World is skipping town

Looks like the world is going to shambles. Don’t best yourself up about it because you couldn’t do anything. He only had a short time after landing in the ocean. Science and religion are at odds because of ego and pride. Or Eggo’s and wives. But there’s not many bigger shames than a man (or woman,for you civil activists) that thought he could do little. We fight and claw over freedom of speech yet say so little. I don’t mean verbally, but actions have always spoken louder, possibly even the only things that did speak. You conform and will only perpetuate that which binds us.

Are we not bound by flesh over metal? It’s strange this world of over 8 billion people call communication whatever it is we twiddle with our thumbs on a gizmo. Is that how humanity is connected? Through thumbs?

Revolution is happening in every country but ours. Why? Everyone has less than we do yet they have so much more. They have the human spirit unbound. We’re focused on not not being the one voted off. If you knew, then why do we act as though the war is lost before it had ended? You and me, baby, i’d never give up on you. Would you, me?

I’m not a hero. That’s why. There’s not one courageous bone in my body. I’m am adviser, observer. I’ll leave the heroics to the real heroes. Better a fool for a teacher than a fool for a king. But I know you won’t do anything but perpetuate the illusions. Of course, I say that in hopes of being proven wrong.

Whatever you do, just don’t become one of those weird new agers that talk or life without a single idea of what it really is. Or say you’re channeling something. They are just docile whores with mattresses attached to their backs. And yes, what they do is contagious, in order to bed more, just so they can have the excuse to say they’re to peaceful and living to fight back. But you and me, we know there’s no excuse. That’s the human spirit in it’s entirety. Freedom is eternal vigilance.

Anyway, I know I said I wasn’t a doer. I’m now a wanted criminal. No laws we’re broken that were made laws to begin with. Your American dream has become fantasy. Dreams are still feasible and that is the difference.

I’m not going to say dumb shit like, ‘wake up!’ or, ‘open your eyes’. I already know what you will do. Here’s the thing about someone who is always right; they often yearn to be proven wrong. Anyway, go check your twitters and bookfaces and vines and whatever the hell else you think is more important than you.

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babysitter

I spruced myself up that night. I knew she was coming over to watch the kids. My wife was going to work later than usual. It was a casual day at work but I decided to wear the fancy shit I owned. Collared shirt, fitted slacks, even the cuff-links. It didn’t mattered which, any cuff-links would have done, I imagined. I simply pretended that I had worked late and that my attire was unnecessarily evil to me even though it really was.

After she put my little girl to sleep, I went to work. She’d worked with us several times before, but through an agency. This time, she was on her own. My wife had asked her for her personal phone number after the fantastic work she’d done with our little girl the last time. Now i was going to work.

I stalled her as long as I could while I was supposed to pay her. She didn’t want to seem rude demanding the money. Neither did I. I pretended to check everything while complimenting her. It was easy. Then I started small talk while reaching into my wallet so that she would feel obligated to continue talking after I paid her. I gave her my utmost attention. I seemed interested but forgot the things she said. She even said I was a wonderful listener at one point and I somehow managed to get her to continue.

As the night went further, so did my antics. I became unfaithful and she became ashamed. But we somehow convinced ourselves that we were neither. Even the several separate times after that.

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the bike, the boy, and the blue thing

I received a message from my boss. It’s the sort of job that requires one to be on call at all times. So I checked the message. It didn’t say much but to receive a package outside of some shady apartment building. When I asked about the details of the package, i.e. dimensions, color, weight etc, she said that it wasn’t that kind of package. and I would know as soon as I saw it. My first thought was, “gimme a break,” so I asked back, will someone be handing it to me? She said two people would. A man and a woman, and that I had to retrieve that package at all cost. I said what any employee of the year would. “Okie dokie.”

I got to the apartment complex without any obstacles. I brought my ‘tools’ with me because she had said at all cost, but in all the years I’ve been under her employ, I’ve never had a job that I couldn’t handle. My boss, she’s a smart woman. Sometimes, I think she only gives me jobs that I can handle because she’s aware of my skillset and experience, and that’s why I’ve never had a job that I couldn’t handle. Of course, the jobs got tougher over time, otherwise I’d have become just another one of those employees with teir thumbs up their asses. You know the kind.

Anyway, I’d taken the motorcycle to dropzone. That which I’d named Peggy, after the story of Bellerophon and Pegasus. I hit a guy on a motorcycle with a shitty car in my youth and turned him into a vegetable. I didn’t feel too bad because he was drunk, but the bad that I did feel made me buy his broken bike at the motorpool auction. I revived it, tamed all its fucked-up kinks and I’m, now, seemingly the only fella that knows how to ride it. No packages came for me at the spot. I sat. I waited. I yawned, I stretched, Repeat. Then I started practices tricks with Peggy. Somehow during Peggy’s revival, I’d set the idle just right to the point that if I had her in first gear, she would walk right beside me, like a real horse. Then again, maybe Peggy wanted to do it. I don’t go too deeply into the things that couldn’t be simply explained. Anything explained difficultly meant it still wasn’t understood. Simplicity is supreme.

Then I heard a window shatter. Fifth floor. The falling glass danced around me. I shrugged and decided simply to move peggy and I across the street.

“This is it,” I thought about the job, “fucking, finally.” I watched and continued watch the fifth floor but nothing else happened. I watched some more and wondered if there was anything else to watch. No one in any of the other apartments turned on their lights or looked out the window in curiosity. That wasn’t weird in a poor neighborhood. I’d have been surprised if the cops were called. It was just quiet. My stomach grumbled because of a skipped lunch and dinner. Silence. I waited a moment longer before i started having Peggy walk next to me again. That’s when they kicked the front doors open and everything happened fast.

I did a little hop skip next to Peggy, who looked as if a ghost was riding her. There was a man and a woman. They watched me skip with widening eyes. I was in all black with a full-faced black tinted winged helmet. Custom made. With the man and woman wasn’t a package or a bag or even a box. It was a little blonde kid. Nowhere close to his teens. He held something blue in his hands. I gestured to the kid to bring it over and that’s when the man and woman, who upon longer inspection looked as though they could pass for the kids parents, stopped the kid from stepping across the street and tried to run.

I snapped my fingers without thinking, Peggy revved, grabbed my tools, and two flashes later, I had the kid and the blue behind me on the bike riding away. The blonde kid was staring at the man and woman now shrinking on the floor behind and beneath us.

‘Were they your parents?’  I asked calmer then I had ever been in my life, masking the shudder in my voice with Peggy’s neighing. The kid said nothing. ‘Did you know them?’ I asked again.

‘They said they were friends, and they loved me.’ he finally said, ‘they look just like mom and dad.’

‘Who were they, and what were they looking for?’ I asked shifting into the next gear. Again, the kid stayed silent. ‘Were they looking for the blue thing you’re holding?”

‘…They said they weren’t from here, and that they knew they looked like my mom and dad, but they weren’t. I don’t know what they wanted. They just told me to go with them.’

‘Then what’s that blue thing, kid?’

‘It’s mine. I told ‘em I wasn’t gonna go nowhere unless they let me get it. So they brought me home. Then when I went to get it, daddy came out and started yelling at the other man who looks like him. They were fighting and daddy tried to throw the other man out the window. He didn’t fall and then the lady hit daddy with the t.v. and broke the t.v. Daddy didn’t get up. Then they said that we had to go right now. I grabbed my blue and went downstairs and saw you.’

I said nothing and tried to gauge the situation but decided not to. It was some strange kind of fuckery that I couldn’t possible figure out or even begin to. All I knew was that the boss told me to take the package to the drop, then leave. But what the fuck was the package? She said I would know. Was it the blue thing? I’d never seen anything like it. It’s like a glow-stick sort of thing as thin as a syringe but has a deep eerie blue glow to it. The kid held onto it like it was his soul or a safety blanket. From what the kid told me, they didn’t even know about the blue thing. They wanted the kid. So which was the package? Then I did something silly. We rode Peggy to a nearby Friend’s place and I asked Him to watch the kid while I dropped off the blue thing. I told the kid I promised to be back real soon after I sorted it all out. He screamed and scratched at me when I pulled the thing out of his hand. At least I had a helmet on, but the kid also kicked like crazy. My shins were being rung like the liberty bell before my Buddy calmed him. He always had a way with kids. Made them feel like doing their chores was a right of theirs. In a way it was, but He was damn good at it.

I took off to deliver the blue thing.

I got to the drop zone. I began to hand the blue thing over to the guy I usually made my drops to, funny guy, kinda reminds me of a frog, and I can’t remember if it was before or after I handed it to him before I saw a couple of flashes then woke up in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Peggy was nowhere in sight. My helmet was gone. I had plain clothes on. It was miles before I found a bus and even then, I had no idea where it was going. I just hoped it was going to get me where I needed to go. At least close enough for me to walk he rest of the way. Tuesdays were always pretty rough.

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