Let me tell you a question, lay one on me slap jack, today I woke up in the adjacent building while the nubile children of the corn yawned, lit incense and greeted the day the way they think the Dali Lama most likely does ( He actually guzzles vodka, and slowly un-corks his shrived old man dick from the cavern of a younger, less important Lama, in even the most depraved days of De Sade- in prison on St. Helen's island- had such a brutal lover existed)they told the sky thanks ( ah, a cluck, a rosary, the sun is beating the land into submission). The invertebrate cowards that sprawl across the post secondary landscape of America with the seeming naive eyes that led to the formation of the MIR, an entire generation of panthers languishing in prison and the callus neo-liberalism of the Clintons. And so, college hasn't changed that much. To take a statement from Chris Marker, you cannot bridge the gap between those that rebel against poverty and those that rebel against wealth. You can't begin to rebel against anything, however, when you are woefully idiotic. The entire aesthetic, the very fabric of college relies on a few stoned conversations about the state of society, a vague love of doomsday preppers, an internship at a farm, a summer among wetbacks, and thirty years of slow death and boredom disguised as family. A pretty brunette told me that she wanted to change the world, I laughed and knew that even the inevitable defeat, and the dumb pride it can give us, wouldn't last,you have to participate in this 100 years war, you must actually know the terror of generational defeat to understand that there is no end, to live at all is to become cancerous. The snake eats its head with its tale, its second head mouthing the magna carta. Later she gave me a poem she wrote.
' Writing is pain, but words are too beautiful walking on eggshells ( or clouds?)
flying with a broken wing? don’t hit your head on the moon' Our midwest correspondent ( who had been studying the folkways of certain midwest bars and the capacity for destruction that boredom can weave) could not control her laughter. Face wrinkled in something akin to physical pain, spiritual defeat often takeing on the same characteristics, tried to rip it up. I saved it for archival purposes. At a party the to of us attended a discussion on acceptance ( of everything) and freedom of speech occurred. I hate niggers and fags! our correspondent screamed, I laughed and agreed that these nubile star glazed rich kids would swallow the poisoned Cleveland river if the price was right. I continued my quest to wake up next to a long legged blond in the dorms ( and getting free cafeteria food) to no avail, waking the next morning with the tip jar shoved hastily into my wallet.
That's jut another day in The Wonderful Life of Not You
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also If you're in the Seattle area, join us for a reading
7pm Sunday the 15th of September
at The Denny Way Music School
(514 E Denny Way Seattle)
