He stood atop the hill and waited patiently for his food as the wind blew trash past him on the cobblestone ground. He pulled the collar up on his coat and blew into his gloveless hands. This was winter. This was what everyone had warned him about and as he stood there trying not to shiver and shake, he decided that he wouldn’t tell anyone just how tough it was. He figured that revealing that made him seem human and he’d gotten far enough in life getting people to believe that he was something more than just average.
To scrap the plan now seemed silly and cowardly—in fact, no such thought should have crossed his mind. It did though. It crossed it and lingered there. It lingered for more than a second and now,now it had taken up space in his mind. Traveling through a field on a plane in another dimension proved fruitful and taught him the meaning of perspective. You see, things are much different from way up here. Different isn’t always bad but it is almost always scary. If you aren’t afraid, you aren’t alive. If you aren’t alive, you’re dead.
I checked late late last night in a drunken stupor.
It was there.
I knew it was there.
But when I awoke the next morning, it still shocked me to find it there.
More than anything, it was the thing I said to myself that shook me the most..
I said to myself: “I had faith and I knew it would be there…I had blind faith and I knew it would be there..”
Now, if I can have blind faith in something as small as money being where I need it to be, why can’t I have faith in something as large and grand and beautiful as the idea that there’s a GOD up there that loves us?
And now that I pose the question to myself, I have an answer..
It’s cause I know it’s not true..
Online transactions and circuitry and technology have nothing to do with some great intellectual being watching over all these people.
Clearly IF he ever gave a shit about us…he doesn’t now.
Jokers, jesters and jezebels jabbed jaded jocks and jumped on jaguars while joyfully jeering juxtaposition of Jesus to jubilant Jehova.
Kingdoms of keen killers and kings where kept kempt and neat until the hour of defeat.
Luscious and loveable lackluster sluts strutted about before dusk. Nothing mattered much. Luck was lacking and much was lost. All people remaining gave up on love as a likely end to their lows.
Machinery continued to malfunction in marvelous fashion, leaving most men motionless. Majesty—measuring malice over mercy delivered on both and moved meticulously towards mending mowed down monuments.
Never needing out of necessity—needing out of nausea. Nerds and newcomers nestled neatly under nests made of neglected networks of natural stone. Nonetheless, nefarious nomadic nihilists nimbly negotiated nuclear attacks. NIRVANA.
Opting to openly and officially ostracize officials officially ushered in lawlessness.
Pigs and preachers pressured preoccupied pawns, primarily pushing pathetic and pitiful laws. Progress? Pitchforks lined the highways across the pastures of the fallen patriarchs and practitioners likened the pitfalls of plague to plain old punishment. Purgatory.
Questions quickly climbed the social ladder and quelled the feeling of calm.
Rampant and rapid repulsive decapitations revolted rising revolutionists. Rolling skulls rocked hill sides and wreaked havoc on regular folks. What ever regular was.
Sun was dead and many sons would be soon too. Not just here on Earth but everywhere in out blood spattered society. Reaping the rewards of our soulless cowardice would be the end of our sins and send so many searching for shelter.
Treachery ruled thousands and the turn of thought was thought to be a turning point but it was short-lived and more trouble than most initially thought. Tears fell and although the people left were visibly disturbed, their insides remained hard and taught. Lifeless shells leaving bloody footprints wherever they dragged their meaningless empty carcasses.
Under umbrellas, undesireable undead and underfed undefined unclean urchins struck each other for crumbs.
Vultures appeared and viciously ripped flesh from victims shard white bones.
Where most had seen waves of dead before meeting his fate while waiting, Wally wept woefully and was crushed under the weight of a hundred women wondering why we went so far down the well. We went down for wealth. We had it. Where was it?
X-rays revealed exactly what experts predictions had predicted. Exponentially expanding execution only resulted in executions. Exported humanity for the sake of a dollar. The children hollered from below the floor boards but no one came. Examples. Left behind for someone to excavate.
Yellow bellied yes-men yanked younger men from beds and demanded unyielding dedication. This was the end of the road for many and let this be an education.
Today, I snapped at a driver who was speeding on the block I grew up on. It’s a residential street that connects to an arterial road via a large opening. Because of this, cars entering St. Charles Place go extremely fast when they make a right turn because they don’t have to make a sharp turn like on most other streets. It’s a nice, easy curve that brings out the worst in drivers. It’s been a pain in my side for a good chunk of my life. I don’t care what anybody says, you shouldn’t go 40-50 MPH on a residential street. It’s not a bullshit law to steal money out of your wallet like parking violations. It’s a law that’s meant to protect human lives. There are kids that live on my block. I’ve seen them run up and down the street, and I some times worry that some speeding asshole is going to take a life just because they couldn’t be inconvenienced to slow down.
I visited my mother and grandmother today. I parked on the street. When I left, my car was parked on the south side, pointing me in the wrong direction, so I made a 3 point turn to go the opposite way. As this happened, a guy was speeding from Venice Blvd onto my street. He didn’t slow down. He saw me making my turn from a distance and decided to keep driving at the same speed like a true asshole. He eventually had to slam on his brakes and stopped only a couple of inches away from my car.
Instead of completing my turn, I hit my brakes, lowered my window and asked, “What the fuck are you doing?!” The guy was older than me. He looked about 35, chubby as a beared pig in a red Honda Civic. He was blasting loud music that he had to turn down when I yelled at him. The guy yelled at me to move my car, and I replied, “No. What the fuck are you doing?! This is a residential street, and you’re flying like a fucking madman.” The guy responds, “Fuck you, get out of the way.” I say, “No, mother fucker. You’re the asshole here. This is a residential street, and you’re supposed to slow down!” The guy then asks, “What’re you a fucking cop?” “No, this is my fucking block. And you’re driving like an asshole, you fat piece of shit. Slow down next time!” “Fuck you!” He responded.
I was ready to get out of my car. I wanted to punch a hole in his blubber laden face and probably would’ve broken some teeth if not for the line of cars that started building up behind him. I stared at his beady little eyes and I could see he was afraid. He could hear the pure hatred in my voice. My hands clenched the steering wheel, ready to rip his face off. Then I realized the guy probably would’ve had a heart attack if I instigated a fight. Besides, I was on my way to meet up with a director about a script he wants to me write for him. I just looked at the driver and said, “You better watch the way you drive!” I completed my turn but didn’t move my car just in case he wanted to have a go at me. Of course, the guy put his foot on the gas and tried speeding away, but as luck would have it, a neighbor down the way pulled out of their driveway and got in the asshole’s way. He had to hit his brakes again and drive like a normal person.
I felt good afterward. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body. I know that the guy probably went home, never realizing that he was in the wrong. Maybe I was too angry to get my point across. Maybe I didn’t have to call him a fat piece of shit. But it felt good to release that anger. I put a little fear in his bones and I don’t regret it one bit. Because you can’t expect to be an asshole and get away with it every time. Every once in a while, you’ll run into somebody who doesn’t give a shit and will call you out on your bad habits, whether it’s in an intense situation or a casual one. It just so happened that he picked the wrong night and the wrong street. I’m sure he’s still angry and sulking in his room, eating his microwave burrito, thinking, “If only…”
The chatter of a thousand voices and accents sounded like they were mixed together my a DJ from hell. The buildings were tall and old. I decided that since they didn’t get earthquakes out here it probably helped to keep everything intact for so long. Still though, the crowds, the noise, they were soothing. It was as close to home as I’d been in months. My ears were at home at least. Being from Los Angeles, it is the norm to have people al around you who don’t speak English. Speaking of my ears, they were freezing. I felt like I’d been walking around for hours, no, days. Maybe longer. People popped in and out of shops with bags bigger than their middles and eyes wide at the sign reading “50% off” and another sign reading ” fantastic holiday deals”. Ahhhh. Christmas time. Consumerism, steady rain fall and the chill of Winter on a Friday afternoon. not too cold, nothing that a decent overcoat couldn’t fight off. I had been looking for this place for hours. I think I was close but I couldn’t be sure. To be honest, I had given up reading street signs. They put them all really high up on the sides of buildings so I had stopped craning my head up like some sort of awkward alien giraffe looking for food. In reality though, I just thought it gave me away as a foreigner. An outsider. Someone who didn’t fit in. An outcast. A nomad. An illegal. I had to bury that shit. I have to go into every pub, restaurant and diner like I own the place. Confidence is key. I repeated this to myself until I had a headache. I asked a stump of a man on the corner where I might find a particular Itlaian restaurant I was told would be more inclined to hiring someone in my predicament. Sideburns that’d make Liberace jealous, a gut that invaded anyone’s personal space who had stopped to ask him anything and a bright red face that he seemed to be proud of. He’s probably drunk but I just saw him helping someone else so I’m sure he can tell me where the fuck this place is. I’m tired of looking and I don’t care if I don’t blend in, I just need to find this place and get it over with. "Hi, can you help me find this address?" I point to my phone screen and rain droplets collect on the face. "Put that thing away!" He shouted, disturbing pedestrians and causing a jolt that made me laugh. "Take tha first left ya see there. See the green and gold pub?" Blinking through the rain, I nod and squint—wiping water from my brow and motioning to let him know I saw the pub in the distance. "Good, yer eyes work!" He seemed to only laugh at his own jokes. "Now turn left at that corner and keep the pub to your right shoulder, make another left and then turn right at Dean St." "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it." I was off into the mass of people—fighting for space along the crowded side walk, trying to breathe amongst the desperate shoppers and tourists. I was near to the restauarant now. I gathered myself, wiped a fresh coat of rain off my face, tucked my ipod and phone into my bag. I didn’t want them to see them bulging in my pockets and gather that I had travelled more than thirty minutes to get here. I’m so paranoid..
Is everything really relative? I mean a kid with no food. That’s not relative. Nothing is nothing. Wealth is relative though. Weird.
I pondered this for about 55 seconds while working on another piece of work and boy is it a piece of work. I sit here and think about just what makes me think what merit anything I’m doing really has.
Well to be honest, that’s just the thing, as long as it means something to me then it should be written right? That’s not to say every thought should be jotted down and that’s where we are in society.
Nobody can say or do something without it being documented. No one is discovered anymore. People can go out and show themselves to the people who can make them rich.
Cool right? I don’t fucking know. It seems that with an influx of people with access to cheap tools that allow them make art, we get a whole lot less art. The things that rise to the top and gain the most exposure continue to be the things that always have.
Let’s face it, sex sells and it always will. I’m rambling again. I’m not gonna sit here and act like I don’t watch porn but you are fucking lying to yourself if you think Katy Perry is famous for her oratory skills. Her talents lie elsewhere.
I had a cool note to end this on but now I’ve fucking lost my point in the haze of other thoughts and will re-visit this later on when I have things in order.