good evening. I’ve been out for a while, working on my thoughts, wondering through the ghetto health food store for something small to eat for a small allotment of time. I’ve been on the train, wordless, curious, and annoyed. off doing other things, upset about other things, worrying, because worrying is in my blood. a curse handed down through the family. and when I’m not having nightmares, I’m inside of them – with a large front window to the street, and behind me the rows of dysfunctional people and computers. no one cares. no one around here cares. if there’s someone, if it’s you, I wish you’d step up closer just so that I could see. a demon hears a little radio song – a song played over and over a million times in life – and she starts singing, a tiny part of her starts singing next to me . . . and it makes me want to cry. because my hatred was feeling so righteous. life is complicated. I want to have that vision like in American Beauty. ultimate rebellion, and living your life the way you want, the liberated feeling. and finding new beauty, the kind that startles you. he videotaped a plastic bag being tossed around in the wind and that was his whole movie. if you’re filled up, you see things like no one else, like no ordinary person around you. I can tell if a person is special, if a person is caring, right off the bat. heading back from lunch I realized the direction I was going was in the shape of an L, and began to brainstorm words that began with L, like luck, love, and so on. and decided to go with love, that, being the most important thing in life, it made for a positive trip. we are all travelling in the alphabet. my words and letters want to be servants, don’t want to be full of themselves. they want to do what’s right. not to listen to the whispers of doubt, the shouts and screams of anger, the blood boiling up in the head because you can’t see a way to turn a disadvantage to your favor.
fireworks will go off in rush hour. winter sky like a fourth of july celebration, but now, to bring in the president. others, protest against the whole thing, as if it’s going to be reversed now. no matter. people always have a cause to horde together, whether it’s love or love of money or to catch on to something unnoticed. I like to be out on the sidewalk . . . no, not really. I like to be connected somehow, and I’m admitting it. I’m not the desert hermit people think I’d like to be. though I transport myself away from everything. it’s my only way. I freak out. I don’t see any beauty anywhere. all the horror movies lose their fun. horror in this real world wouldn’t make any kind of movie for the people.
where the hell are you going so late at night? didn’t you know? I’m spontaneous, I could use a drink. you know what I mean. I could use a soft, cold tea that’s going to be gentle with me, and sing me a song. kafka, thoreau, baldwin, miller, dostoevsky, salinger. I’m going to read. and I’ll be back. a different person all over again.
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