I like the night. That's no secret to anyone who actually knows me and my sleeping habits. I used to think it was because staying up resulted in valuable alone time, but I had a recent epiphany. Yes, I do enjoy having some time alone but I what I really like about the night is being with other people.
At night, people take off their masks and become their true selves. When people are out in the daytime, everyone plays to the image they're supposed to be, whether it's student, cashier, businessman, or the President, few of us act 100 percent ourselves. Those who do don't fit societal norms are thought to be strange simply because they're honest in their daily self-portrayal.
But as the sun comes down, so do the lies. The layers of deception are peeled back and, for the most part, people don't bullshit each other about who they are. As it gets darker out, we have the subconscious realization that we're not at school or work anymore and we act accordingly.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, July 2, 2010
A Dialogue With God
I was walking through a yellow field one cloudy, summer day when I was approached by a man claiming to be god. He didn’t look like god, for he lacked a big white beard and robes or any resemblance to Morgan Freeman. He looked more like a hobo. The traditional train-living variety complete with hunched back, a big coat, torn beanie, and red handkerchief tied around a stick to hold his belongings.
He addressed me, “Could you spare some change?”
“Sorry, I don’t have any,” I answered before walking past him.
“Well, that’s a lie.”
I was a little peeved that he would assume I’d simply refused him any charity so I turned around and asked, “Now how can you be sure of that?”
“Because I’m god.”
“Oh, really? Well, that’s a lie.”
“No, it’s not. I know because I’m god,” the hobo retorted with a six-toothed grin.
Never having been a fan of circular logic, and having nothing else planned for the day, I decided to debate this surprisingly intelligible homeless man, “So you’re saying you’re god because you know you’re god?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s to stop me from saying I am god?”
“Because you know you’re not. And so do I. On account of being god, you know.”
“I got that. So if you know everything, why did you even ask me for change? Wouldn’t you know that I wouldn’t give you any?”
“Yes, I knew. I also know that you actually have thirty-seven cents in change.”
“Then why would you ask for it? Besides I have...” I fished through my pockets and counted through the coins, “Sixty-four cents in change.”
“See, you were lying.”
“Yes, I’ll admit that. But you we’re wrong.”
“Not really. I purposefully told you a wrong number, knowing that you’d try to prove me wrong. May I have it?”
“Why would god need money?”
“Because I want to get by while still blending in with society.”
“Then why not make your own?”
“That’d be counterfeiting. I’d rather not break the law.”
That baffled me, “You follow the laws of man? As god, wouldn’t your law be ultimate?”
“It would, but I haven’t made any laws.”
“What do you mean? What about the ten commandments?”
“Those are from an ancient storybook written by men. The ten commandments are man’s laws.”
“Then what about the physical laws of the universe. Gravity and light and whatnot?”
“Those things came about on their own.”
I paused to try and formulate my next question but was interrupted by the stranger, “You want to know just what it is I do?”
“Um, yes. I suppose,” I said while ignoring my suspicion that he knew what I was going to ask.
“I don’t do much of anything, really. I have the ability to, but I choose not to.”
“Wh-”
“Why? Because despite popular belief, I didn’t make this universe. It made me. And I don’t feel comfortable messing around with it.”
“Please don’t answer me before I ask the question. It’s rude. I think...”
“Not a problem. Most people aren’t comfortable with it.”
“Yeah, thanks. So apparently you’re all-knowing?”
“Yes and no.”
“Then why are you afraid to change the universe? Wouldn’t you know how it’d turn out?”
“That’s where the ‘no’ applies.”
“... um, explain.”
“It’s a long answer. You’re going to be tired of standing in a few moments, so you should sit down now.”
I somewhat reluctantly took a seat on a wide tree stump.
He began, “Let’s start with time. Most beings believe time is linear because that is how they perceive it,” he used his stick to draw an arrow in a patch of dirt.
“So time’s not linear?”
“Once again, yes and no. Time is, as you have heard various smart people claim, curved. So curved in fact, that it winds back in on it self, making a circle. But it only circles one way. ”
Next to the arrow, he drew a circle that didn’t quite close, with an arrow pointing back to the beginning of the line, “You see, time is linear in that in travels in one direction. But since it comes back in on itself, it’s constantly repeating itself. There is essentially no beginning and no end to time. It’s simply rounds in on itself over and over again.”
Intrigued, I asked “Is there a reason behind this?”
“Of course. You’re familiar with the big bang theory?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that theory is correct. It’s just a bit unfinished. All the matter of the universe was compacted into one incredibly small ball that exploded under the pressure, creating the very spread out universe we have about us today. For simplicities sake, we’ll refer to the big bang as the beginning, even though there is no beginning or end. But this of course leaves the question of where the compacted universe ball came from.
“This is where gravity comes into play. Gravity is the force that gives objects a pull on other objects in direct proportion to the object’s size and it’s proximity to other objects. Gravitational pull is never reduced to nothing; it just becomes inconsequential when objects are spaced far enough apart that another force pushing on said object overrides the pull of gravity. Like how a spaceship escapes the force of earth’s gravitational pull by having more force from the push from the rockets.”
“So the universe really is run by the force?” I joked, “I guess Uncle Ben was right.”
The man smirked, “I can do without the Star Wars references.”
“Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“As I was saying, gravitational pull never dies, it just becomes too weak to notice it. Keep that in mind as I go back to the big bang. When the bang occurred it pushed everything out with a massive blast of energy. So massive, in fact, that everything in the universe is still being pushed away from the area of the blast, despite that gravity want to pull it all in on itself. The popular belief is that this latent energy will continue pushing all the matter in the universe until everything is so dispersed that nothing can form and the universe, as a whole, will die. This is true. The universe will die. But, it will be reborn.”
“Like your son.”
“If you choose to believe that fairy tale, then yes.”
“I do.”
“I’ve noticed a lot of people have. Anyway, the nothingness that the mass and energy of the universe has dispersed through is not only infinite but round. As you know, the vast majority of space is empty. The universe is merely our name for the all the matter that has spread its way through this nothingness. So long after everything has dispersed and died, it will begin to come back in on itself again as it rounds through the nothingness.”
“But if the nothingness is infinite, wouldn’t it take an infinite amount of time for everything to round it?”
“Yeah. What’s your point?”
“Well, that means it’s never gonna happen. There is no rebirth.”
“Ah, but you misunderstand infinity.”
I’d found a flaw in his theory, “No, I don’t. Infinity means endless, unreachable. If something is infinitely big, you’d need an infinite amount of time to traverse it.”
He pointed at his circle in the dirt and retorted, “But we do have an infinite amount of time. And as we close in on infinity, all the mass from before is near each other again, pulling into each other because of the force of gravity. And just as the infinite circle of time comes back to where it started, the universe is once again pulled into on incredibly small fist of mass and energy. Before too long, it explodes in the big bang, in exactly the same way it did before, causing everything to happen the same way it did during the last eternity; successfully repeating time. I was created during the big bang and when the ball is formed yet again, the mass and energy that I’m made up of will be reabsorbed and I’ll be re-birthed with the rest of the universe. So yes, I do know everything but only because I’ve been around to witness everything. I don’t know what will happen if I alter the cycle in any way. So I go about each eternity just as I did the one before.”
“So you’re saying that eternity as we perceive it is merely one cycle of time?”
“Yes.”
I took off my cap and scratched my head before getting up from the stump and conceding, “I suppose it makes just as much sense as anything. Um, here. You can have the change,” I held out my handful of recycled mass to him.
“Thank you,” he said as he clenched the change into a fist and shoved it into a pocket.
As he turned and started to walk away, I called out to him, “So we’ve had this conversation before? And you knew we would and you knew exactly how it would go?”
Without turning around, he answered, “Yes. I actually look forward to this conversation, too. It’s one of the few times I get to explain myself to someone. Most beings won’t listen to a person ramble on about being god,” he laughed as he hoisted his stick and red handkerchief over his shoulder.
There was no final goodbye as I watched him walk out of sight. It didn’t seem necessary, knowing that we’d see each other again in one eternity.
He addressed me, “Could you spare some change?”
“Sorry, I don’t have any,” I answered before walking past him.
“Well, that’s a lie.”
I was a little peeved that he would assume I’d simply refused him any charity so I turned around and asked, “Now how can you be sure of that?”
“Because I’m god.”
“Oh, really? Well, that’s a lie.”
“No, it’s not. I know because I’m god,” the hobo retorted with a six-toothed grin.
Never having been a fan of circular logic, and having nothing else planned for the day, I decided to debate this surprisingly intelligible homeless man, “So you’re saying you’re god because you know you’re god?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s to stop me from saying I am god?”
“Because you know you’re not. And so do I. On account of being god, you know.”
“I got that. So if you know everything, why did you even ask me for change? Wouldn’t you know that I wouldn’t give you any?”
“Yes, I knew. I also know that you actually have thirty-seven cents in change.”
“Then why would you ask for it? Besides I have...” I fished through my pockets and counted through the coins, “Sixty-four cents in change.”
“See, you were lying.”
“Yes, I’ll admit that. But you we’re wrong.”
“Not really. I purposefully told you a wrong number, knowing that you’d try to prove me wrong. May I have it?”
“Why would god need money?”
“Because I want to get by while still blending in with society.”
“Then why not make your own?”
“That’d be counterfeiting. I’d rather not break the law.”
That baffled me, “You follow the laws of man? As god, wouldn’t your law be ultimate?”
“It would, but I haven’t made any laws.”
“What do you mean? What about the ten commandments?”
“Those are from an ancient storybook written by men. The ten commandments are man’s laws.”
“Then what about the physical laws of the universe. Gravity and light and whatnot?”
“Those things came about on their own.”
I paused to try and formulate my next question but was interrupted by the stranger, “You want to know just what it is I do?”
“Um, yes. I suppose,” I said while ignoring my suspicion that he knew what I was going to ask.
“I don’t do much of anything, really. I have the ability to, but I choose not to.”
“Wh-”
“Why? Because despite popular belief, I didn’t make this universe. It made me. And I don’t feel comfortable messing around with it.”
“Please don’t answer me before I ask the question. It’s rude. I think...”
“Not a problem. Most people aren’t comfortable with it.”
“Yeah, thanks. So apparently you’re all-knowing?”
“Yes and no.”
“Then why are you afraid to change the universe? Wouldn’t you know how it’d turn out?”
“That’s where the ‘no’ applies.”
“... um, explain.”
“It’s a long answer. You’re going to be tired of standing in a few moments, so you should sit down now.”
I somewhat reluctantly took a seat on a wide tree stump.
He began, “Let’s start with time. Most beings believe time is linear because that is how they perceive it,” he used his stick to draw an arrow in a patch of dirt.
“So time’s not linear?”
“Once again, yes and no. Time is, as you have heard various smart people claim, curved. So curved in fact, that it winds back in on it self, making a circle. But it only circles one way. ”
Next to the arrow, he drew a circle that didn’t quite close, with an arrow pointing back to the beginning of the line, “You see, time is linear in that in travels in one direction. But since it comes back in on itself, it’s constantly repeating itself. There is essentially no beginning and no end to time. It’s simply rounds in on itself over and over again.”
Intrigued, I asked “Is there a reason behind this?”
“Of course. You’re familiar with the big bang theory?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that theory is correct. It’s just a bit unfinished. All the matter of the universe was compacted into one incredibly small ball that exploded under the pressure, creating the very spread out universe we have about us today. For simplicities sake, we’ll refer to the big bang as the beginning, even though there is no beginning or end. But this of course leaves the question of where the compacted universe ball came from.
“This is where gravity comes into play. Gravity is the force that gives objects a pull on other objects in direct proportion to the object’s size and it’s proximity to other objects. Gravitational pull is never reduced to nothing; it just becomes inconsequential when objects are spaced far enough apart that another force pushing on said object overrides the pull of gravity. Like how a spaceship escapes the force of earth’s gravitational pull by having more force from the push from the rockets.”
“So the universe really is run by the force?” I joked, “I guess Uncle Ben was right.”
The man smirked, “I can do without the Star Wars references.”
“Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“As I was saying, gravitational pull never dies, it just becomes too weak to notice it. Keep that in mind as I go back to the big bang. When the bang occurred it pushed everything out with a massive blast of energy. So massive, in fact, that everything in the universe is still being pushed away from the area of the blast, despite that gravity want to pull it all in on itself. The popular belief is that this latent energy will continue pushing all the matter in the universe until everything is so dispersed that nothing can form and the universe, as a whole, will die. This is true. The universe will die. But, it will be reborn.”
“Like your son.”
“If you choose to believe that fairy tale, then yes.”
“I do.”
“I’ve noticed a lot of people have. Anyway, the nothingness that the mass and energy of the universe has dispersed through is not only infinite but round. As you know, the vast majority of space is empty. The universe is merely our name for the all the matter that has spread its way through this nothingness. So long after everything has dispersed and died, it will begin to come back in on itself again as it rounds through the nothingness.”
“But if the nothingness is infinite, wouldn’t it take an infinite amount of time for everything to round it?”
“Yeah. What’s your point?”
“Well, that means it’s never gonna happen. There is no rebirth.”
“Ah, but you misunderstand infinity.”
I’d found a flaw in his theory, “No, I don’t. Infinity means endless, unreachable. If something is infinitely big, you’d need an infinite amount of time to traverse it.”
He pointed at his circle in the dirt and retorted, “But we do have an infinite amount of time. And as we close in on infinity, all the mass from before is near each other again, pulling into each other because of the force of gravity. And just as the infinite circle of time comes back to where it started, the universe is once again pulled into on incredibly small fist of mass and energy. Before too long, it explodes in the big bang, in exactly the same way it did before, causing everything to happen the same way it did during the last eternity; successfully repeating time. I was created during the big bang and when the ball is formed yet again, the mass and energy that I’m made up of will be reabsorbed and I’ll be re-birthed with the rest of the universe. So yes, I do know everything but only because I’ve been around to witness everything. I don’t know what will happen if I alter the cycle in any way. So I go about each eternity just as I did the one before.”
“So you’re saying that eternity as we perceive it is merely one cycle of time?”
“Yes.”
I took off my cap and scratched my head before getting up from the stump and conceding, “I suppose it makes just as much sense as anything. Um, here. You can have the change,” I held out my handful of recycled mass to him.
“Thank you,” he said as he clenched the change into a fist and shoved it into a pocket.
As he turned and started to walk away, I called out to him, “So we’ve had this conversation before? And you knew we would and you knew exactly how it would go?”
Without turning around, he answered, “Yes. I actually look forward to this conversation, too. It’s one of the few times I get to explain myself to someone. Most beings won’t listen to a person ramble on about being god,” he laughed as he hoisted his stick and red handkerchief over his shoulder.
There was no final goodbye as I watched him walk out of sight. It didn’t seem necessary, knowing that we’d see each other again in one eternity.
Limited Albums: Billion Dollar Babies
The sick and dead
raped sweet Mary Ann.
The landslide
elected Mr. Guy,
Mr. Dollar
raped the freezin’ babies.
No more generation:
Mary
elected
unfinished things.
raped sweet Mary Ann.
The landslide
elected Mr. Guy,
Mr. Dollar
raped the freezin’ babies.
No more generation:
Mary
elected
unfinished things.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Limited Albums: Live Wire/Blues Power [Live]
Please, stomp me out, love.
Please, love me
at night.
Please, power me.
At sunrise,
stomp out.
Please, love me
at night.
Please, power me.
At sunrise,
stomp out.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Skin Flicks
Joe Somebody walks to the grimy part of town to take care of some grimy business. Namely, the sort of business one takes care of at a porno theatre, since that’s where he’s going. Keeping a low profile in a grey coat and baseball cap, he purchases his ticket at the counter and walks into the lobby, avoiding eye-contact with all and any employees or fellow patrons. He pushes through the double-doors of screening room number two. The header above the door reads, “Loose Lucy.”
The film hasn’t begun yet but the room is dark and the credits from the last showing are rolling. Some human shaped silhouettes are getting up and leaving but most of the couple dozen stay put; no other plans for the day. Joe finds a seat situated by itself, as has everyone else. A few more tailing silhouettes take seats of their own, making sure not to sit in those just vacated. Nobody says a word, nobody turns their gaze from the screen, nobody dare even cough or sneeze. The credits end and shuffling can be herd from the projection room as the reel is started. Three, two, one.
The room isn’t so dark anymore as celluloid is projected onto the screen, displaying the title of the film in curvy, white lettering over the opening shot of a man and woman drinking at a bar. They’re the only two there and are animatedly showing their inebriation by way of slurring their words and balancing precariously on their barstools. The woman, Loose Lucy one would presume, has wavy, blond hair and an ample chest made known to the audience by the cleavage exposed behind her white blouse. The man is inconsequential. After a conversation no one listens to and a few laughs that display Lucy’s bright smile, she stumbles off her stool and towards the bathroom.
The scene cuts to Lucy washing her hands and looking up at the mirror to see the man behind her with, wearing a devilish grin. He moves in close and gropes her from behind. Despite her protests, she hardly fights back beyond a playful manner. What ensues is an act of intercourse that is surprisingly able-bodied on both sides despite the two of them appearing to be fall-down drunk just a few moments ago. The scene ends as one would expect, with most of the audience having done what one would expect.
Shortly after the screen goes dark, Joe walks out to the scarcely lit lobby. He pushes through a door into a room lined with grimy tile, concrete, peeling wallpaper, and graffiti over all of it. He walks past a row of sinks, then urinals, before opening the first of four stalls and making use of it. Just before he reaches for the toilet paper, he hears the restroom door slam open and the voices of four or so people.
“Stop struggling!”
“Just keep movin’!”
Something slams against the side of the stalls, causing Joe’s walls to shudder. That same something is then shoved into the corner, just outside the last stall. Joe listens to a man’s pleading.
“Please stop. I promise I won’t come here again.”
The voice is answered by the slapping, cracking sound of a heavy fist laying into a cheek and the toppling of a tall man onto the floor. Joe can hear the others shuffling so as to surround him.
“Please let me go.”
“Boy, there’s nothing I’d like more than to let you go, but first you gotta stop lying to us,” said a voice brimming with superiority.
“I’m not lying--”
A few more landed blows can be heard before the same voice continues, “You see, that’s what I’m talking about. Lies. I can’t stand them. So why don’t you tell us the truth and I’ll let you go. Why don’t you tell us that you were watching that nice, white woman get raped in that movie? Why don’t you tell us how you watched it, imagining yourself doing the same thing? Raping white women; that’s what gets you niggers off. Isn’t it, boy? Just say yes and I’ll let you be.”
The defeated man mumbles something.
“I couldn’t hear you, boy.”
There’s a short pause before he repeats himself loudly and clearly, “Yes.”
“Good,” Joe could hear the brute patting the man’s bloodied face.
“You heard him boys, this nigger likes to rape white women. He’s probably thinking of raping you’re wives, mothers, and sisters. Now I’m gonna leave because I’m a man of my word and I promised to let him go. But I can tell the rest of you aren’t done with him yet.”
“Ay, boss.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” the leader of this mini mob says before he can be heard washing his hands, pulling paper towels, and letting the restroom door close behind himself.
The two or three men left behind turn to the cornered man and pummel him until he stops struggling and calling for help; Joe figures the man must be unconscious. He hears three zippers followed by the sound of streaming liquid hitting tile and cloth before he hears the zippers again. The men wash their hands and leave. Joe hears the door shut but stays seated. Before Joe can figure out what to do, the man in the corner gets up and walks up to the door of Joe’s stall.
“Why didn’t you help?”
Joe doesn’t answer.
“So you’re just gonna keep pretending you aren’t there? Not take any responsibility for what just happened to me? You gonna try and forget this ever happened?”
Joe just sits there.
“You know you won’t forget. You’re going to remember this for the rest of your life. You’re gonna remember this day, when you hid like a coward while a hate crime was committed just fifteen feet from where you were taking a shit.”
Still nothing from Joe.
“Well I hope you’re a racist, sir. I hope you’re happy that I got beaten for watching the same movie you and all your white friends watched. I hope that’s what you wanted. Because I can go home and change out of these piss-ridden clothes. I can take a shower and clean the blood from my body. I can simply wait, and my wounds will heal. But you can’t do anything to change what you did here today, so I pray to god that you wanted it to happen.”
The man’s uneven footsteps bring him to the sink. The water runs for a long time before he pulls some paper towels and leaves the room. Joe waits a good fifteen minutes before opening his stall door. In the corner is a puddle of blood and piss slowly spilling towards a drain at the center of the floor. There are dark-red splatters on the wall and the where the man was slammed into the stalls. A trail of watery-red shoe prints from the corner lead to a dirty sink before heading out the door. Joe washes his hands at a different sink before leaving the bathroom and walking back into screening room number two; taking his former seat in time for the next showing.
The film hasn’t begun yet but the room is dark and the credits from the last showing are rolling. Some human shaped silhouettes are getting up and leaving but most of the couple dozen stay put; no other plans for the day. Joe finds a seat situated by itself, as has everyone else. A few more tailing silhouettes take seats of their own, making sure not to sit in those just vacated. Nobody says a word, nobody turns their gaze from the screen, nobody dare even cough or sneeze. The credits end and shuffling can be herd from the projection room as the reel is started. Three, two, one.
The room isn’t so dark anymore as celluloid is projected onto the screen, displaying the title of the film in curvy, white lettering over the opening shot of a man and woman drinking at a bar. They’re the only two there and are animatedly showing their inebriation by way of slurring their words and balancing precariously on their barstools. The woman, Loose Lucy one would presume, has wavy, blond hair and an ample chest made known to the audience by the cleavage exposed behind her white blouse. The man is inconsequential. After a conversation no one listens to and a few laughs that display Lucy’s bright smile, she stumbles off her stool and towards the bathroom.
The scene cuts to Lucy washing her hands and looking up at the mirror to see the man behind her with, wearing a devilish grin. He moves in close and gropes her from behind. Despite her protests, she hardly fights back beyond a playful manner. What ensues is an act of intercourse that is surprisingly able-bodied on both sides despite the two of them appearing to be fall-down drunk just a few moments ago. The scene ends as one would expect, with most of the audience having done what one would expect.
Shortly after the screen goes dark, Joe walks out to the scarcely lit lobby. He pushes through a door into a room lined with grimy tile, concrete, peeling wallpaper, and graffiti over all of it. He walks past a row of sinks, then urinals, before opening the first of four stalls and making use of it. Just before he reaches for the toilet paper, he hears the restroom door slam open and the voices of four or so people.
“Stop struggling!”
“Just keep movin’!”
Something slams against the side of the stalls, causing Joe’s walls to shudder. That same something is then shoved into the corner, just outside the last stall. Joe listens to a man’s pleading.
“Please stop. I promise I won’t come here again.”
The voice is answered by the slapping, cracking sound of a heavy fist laying into a cheek and the toppling of a tall man onto the floor. Joe can hear the others shuffling so as to surround him.
“Please let me go.”
“Boy, there’s nothing I’d like more than to let you go, but first you gotta stop lying to us,” said a voice brimming with superiority.
“I’m not lying--”
A few more landed blows can be heard before the same voice continues, “You see, that’s what I’m talking about. Lies. I can’t stand them. So why don’t you tell us the truth and I’ll let you go. Why don’t you tell us that you were watching that nice, white woman get raped in that movie? Why don’t you tell us how you watched it, imagining yourself doing the same thing? Raping white women; that’s what gets you niggers off. Isn’t it, boy? Just say yes and I’ll let you be.”
The defeated man mumbles something.
“I couldn’t hear you, boy.”
There’s a short pause before he repeats himself loudly and clearly, “Yes.”
“Good,” Joe could hear the brute patting the man’s bloodied face.
“You heard him boys, this nigger likes to rape white women. He’s probably thinking of raping you’re wives, mothers, and sisters. Now I’m gonna leave because I’m a man of my word and I promised to let him go. But I can tell the rest of you aren’t done with him yet.”
“Ay, boss.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” the leader of this mini mob says before he can be heard washing his hands, pulling paper towels, and letting the restroom door close behind himself.
The two or three men left behind turn to the cornered man and pummel him until he stops struggling and calling for help; Joe figures the man must be unconscious. He hears three zippers followed by the sound of streaming liquid hitting tile and cloth before he hears the zippers again. The men wash their hands and leave. Joe hears the door shut but stays seated. Before Joe can figure out what to do, the man in the corner gets up and walks up to the door of Joe’s stall.
“Why didn’t you help?”
Joe doesn’t answer.
“So you’re just gonna keep pretending you aren’t there? Not take any responsibility for what just happened to me? You gonna try and forget this ever happened?”
Joe just sits there.
“You know you won’t forget. You’re going to remember this for the rest of your life. You’re gonna remember this day, when you hid like a coward while a hate crime was committed just fifteen feet from where you were taking a shit.”
Still nothing from Joe.
“Well I hope you’re a racist, sir. I hope you’re happy that I got beaten for watching the same movie you and all your white friends watched. I hope that’s what you wanted. Because I can go home and change out of these piss-ridden clothes. I can take a shower and clean the blood from my body. I can simply wait, and my wounds will heal. But you can’t do anything to change what you did here today, so I pray to god that you wanted it to happen.”
The man’s uneven footsteps bring him to the sink. The water runs for a long time before he pulls some paper towels and leaves the room. Joe waits a good fifteen minutes before opening his stall door. In the corner is a puddle of blood and piss slowly spilling towards a drain at the center of the floor. There are dark-red splatters on the wall and the where the man was slammed into the stalls. A trail of watery-red shoe prints from the corner lead to a dirty sink before heading out the door. Joe washes his hands at a different sink before leaving the bathroom and walking back into screening room number two; taking his former seat in time for the next showing.
Limited Albums: Elegant Gypsy
Highway over Rome:
gypsy devil.
On Mediterranean flight,
midnight tango with Spanish lady.
Elegant sister of Rio with
elegant, sister suite.
gypsy devil.
On Mediterranean flight,
midnight tango with Spanish lady.
Elegant sister of Rio with
elegant, sister suite.
Limited Albums: Honkin' on Bobo
I’m ready,
to move back
to the Jesus grind.
Jesus, please shame the
temperature blind.
I’m ready,
to shame the girl
on-line.
I’m ready,
to move eyesight,
to the main runner
on the road to baby-girl.
to move back
to the Jesus grind.
Jesus, please shame the
temperature blind.
I’m ready,
to shame the girl
on-line.
I’m ready,
to move eyesight,
to the main runner
on the road to baby-girl.
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