I’m in the dark, my mind punching away at ideas. Write, write, and sleep, and work, and write some more. Red white and blue Asics pedaling a red white and blue road bike through the intersections of California. We all need a little bit of air. Red wine, white wine, in a blue glass, I’ve no idea how long this holiday can last. There’s a saying the throatcutters say and that’s “go big, or go home.” What if ‘big’ and ‘home’ are the same place?
Can all the underachievers of the world unite and try just a bit harder? put on those sneakers and run forward, not around things, it’ll just take longer. And in the end, be the thing that drives you mad. As it says in the fucking bible, “rock out with your cock out.” Thy shall be done, bitch.
What a night it’s been. I never would’ve imagined making copies at 3 in the morning at the neighborhood Kinko’s. It was my first day on the job and it’s hard to keep up with what’s going on. But I knew this job wasn’t going to be easy, I just never imagined it would be this tough. I’d never collated papers let alone make 300 copies and how much time it took. And it doesn’t look like the clerks want to show me how to work it either. No problem, I’ll figure it out as I go along right?
Let’s see, black and white saves me 75% the cost, but the color doesn’t. Now does that mean I can’t use this specific color machine? Fuck. Okay, stick with the black and white. Now it wants a credit card. To check if I’m eligible to print this lovely copy of black and white? 300 times over? I’m doing cash anyway. Buy a cash card! I can’t believe how lazy and inconsiderate the clerks are. Do they even know what I’m going through? Probably not, I should cool it. Alright, 10 cents a copy, this should cost me 3 dollars right? Will they tax me? Alright, now print! …It took 10 seconds for one page to print, I’ll be here a lifetime waiting.
Standing there watching the copies eject, I remembered a dream I had once in my younger days. Like last year or something. I was in the desert humming a tune and imagining lyrics about a bird flying across the desert sky. I sang about how the sky never really meets the ground in life. I was the ground and the sky was just this omnipresent entity, yet both seemed important. Then the bird landed on top of a black pyramid. It pecked at the top 11 times and blinked 13 times. I had no idea why it did this but it seemed important to the bird. I was hiking up the black pyramid to meet this bird and I noticed at the bottom of the pyramid was my old friend from college, Dean Moriarty, cheering me on, along with his girlfriend Marylou. I didn’t know why they were in my dream, but as I hiked up, I saw my two friends from Nebraska, Ed Dunkel and his new wife Galatea Dunkel, cheering me on wearing Corn Husker T-shirts and matching red caps. It was nice of them to make a cameo. When I finally got to the top, I woke up. And what’s weirder, was that I woke up happy.
“Excuse me sir. Sir!” yelled the clerk into my ear. I looked at him and yawned. “You were snoring. …While standing up.” “Oh thanks, long day.” I guess I dozed off while standing over the copies. They were done. I felt a sense of accomplishment because now, I’m allowed to go home. Who needs a glass of wine and some good ol’ American Jazz? Maybe even some dirtcheap beer.
what a night.
She hadn’t changed. Not a bit. She’s bad and cannot read. Not a bit. She used to be the kind of bird that would’ve sold her soul for rock and roll, but now she’ll sell that measly little thing for 800 dollars and a vodka cranberry. Probably a well drink. They say dogs sit on your lap because they love you, but cats only do it because it’s warmer. I think the reason we like cats is because they present themselves as free creatures. But they aren’t. They don’t care one way or the other, that’s the beauty of cats. This one wandered in, and I took care of it like the Queen of England’s cat, but like a true alley cat, it just up and wandered away again.
Take a look at you, your body’s falling apart at the ankles upward. Your mind can barely keep a grip on itself in the mornings. Your stomach won’t allow you to enjoy the fruits of the world. But I wouldn’t have minded. Fuck, I would’ve joined you. But you couldn’t tell me the truth that my lap was the warmest. In the end, you haven’t changed. It’s become so critical that you’ve begun rotting on the outside too. I wish I could help, but sometimes we don’t realize we hurt and push the ones who love us most away. You’ve hurt and pushed me for the last time, but I still have just enough soul to say, “have a nice life, asshole.” I sent you out to have fun and cheer up, not as an escort collecting teeth and claw marks on your body. I deserve a fucking cut.
Shopping for music isn’t easy, but I’m getting outta the soul section. Find me in the blues.
You fix my hair for me when it doesn’t look good. You clear my mouth when it gets foamy from talking nonsense. You never judge me when I say I’m having a shit time. You remedy the situation whenever I AM having a bad time. Your smile is like the cure-all, cure-all. And we could never hold hands. Ever. I’ll see you in the morning.
Do you know someone whom you’d call, “the friendliest person in the world?” Someone who’d turn their cheeks as if they had more than two? They’re not anymore special than you, so stop taking advantage of their kindness. A good friend of mine, possibly the greatest friend you could ever ask for, has been taken advantage of by his lady for far too long. He gets pushed around at work, but still manages to squeeze out a smile, a joke and a laugh. And fucking A, he has the heartiest laugh you’ve ever heard. People complain about never finding people like that or ever getting the chance to meet one, but that’s because your collective antics deter them. You push them into a form of depression which only makes them smile, laugh, and joke more. To the trained eye, that’s a terrible thing to witness. They’ll never speak up for themselves because they don’t want to hurt your feelings, so I’m doing it for them now.