Written after riding the train and just… (sigh) thinking over things and (sigh) how sad life (sigh) is…
From when…
It was written. It must be recorded without backspaces. The reader becomes a self-editor.
- said Mike Johnson, a famous Newsreporter from the 1970s
who in the end couldn’t assimilate because he was
African American
and lost his job to an African
American man who was homosexual and performed favors? Wasn’t homosexual?
First plot name:
Fuckwit
He sits on the train and he stares at his shoes. He listens to songs about nothing on his ipod that his parents bought him. He looks at a girl sitting a few seats down. She is talking on a phone. Done talking, she listens to an ipod. He asks her what song is she listening to. He asks her using eyes only, and she sees him. She sees him, but she doesn’t understand and she’s confused. Could you help me a little? I would, but I don’t know how. These words that are never exchanged, just imagined. He stares at his shoes. He looks at the girl. He sits on the train for an hour and then leaves. The girl was gone a long time ago.
Later sometime he is working at his job. He wishes he didn’t have to look at these people. He wishes he had no eyes so they couldn’t see in him and pretend that they knew him. Because he doesn’t think there’s anything worse than somebody thinking they know you and then going home and forgetting you ever existTRANMISSIONedMISSIONTRANSMISSION ERRORTRANS MISSION ERROR
--
Second plot name: [ERASE]
Hello there. I believe we’ve just met. Please allow me to introduce myself. Please allow you to introduce yourself. Beautiful weather. Shall we be off then? But I was thinking of Lunch on Mars…
Second plot name: [ERASE]
Second plot name:
PLANET 1-10
Dictator: The Amazon cloud terrorists have invaded our civil nation. We must rise up in arms and protect the name of Justice in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord and God Amen. Please do not place Justice in the hands of the courts. We will dispense and disperse (threat) with extreme prejudice.
Author’s note: Precipitation at this point is quite high. The buildings are dripping with sweat – figurative use. Precipitation at this point is quite low. The saga continues. Questions without answers, answers without questions. What is the answer to the question that answered the question? Nonsense, of course. Nonsense, of course condescending to a resume – that makes no sense.
Dictator: The Amazon cloud terrorists have invaded our civil nation. We must rise up in arms and protect the name of Justice in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord and God Amen. Please do not place Justice in the hands of the courts. We will dispense and disperse (threat) with extreme prejudice.
Amazon cloud terrorists landed in our home last night. We greeted them and had a few beers. I roasted a hot dog. We feasted and got drunk and had a few more beers and took the car out and drove into a ditch blood dripped down the dashboard from Fran’s skull which I bashed in with a loose elbow dismembered from the first branch of the tree which wasn’t in the ditch to begin with but losing focus on the real question at hand, which I did ask before, which I did see before, even when there was nothing to see, even when there was nothing to lose, did I ask you to read this, no, I only asked you to feel this even when you can’t feel this because you never felt like I felt maybe a vague intimation but you could never really know what it was like from my eyes my shoes walking on themselves everytime I see a pretty girl walked inside of herself in a house of mirrors where the vortex swirls and you see the pretty girl’s meat twirling around in pretty patterns (these are reflections, you see, from the mirrors) everywhere just dancing meat but beautiful dancing meat splashing blood and color everywhere your blood gaze is endless, unreadable, unfathomable
I tried to get to like them. But they just weren’t anything like us. They just didn’t have anything in common with me. I like golf. I like sports. I like women. Hell, I even like men. But they didn’t like any of that stuff. They didn’t do any of that stuff. Not really at least. I mean they’d pretend and they’d try to get me off with this pretending but fuck it wasn’t the same. It’s not the same as real dick, real warm pussy. - Sorry
Sorry
Dictator (who has since become unlikable, even to himself): Keep dreaming somewhere. If not at night then while you talk to your best friend, while you talk to your mother, while you pretend to listen to your father. Find a place in your head where you just can dream. Before logic slowly takes control of your senses and you feel the need to rationalize everything. Your ego rationalizes everything. There is no beauty in words without form, without meaning. You can’t attain anything but empty self-pleasing post-literate post-everything avant-anything semi-dictatorial master’s thesis.
The Dictator walked the steps of his invented mansion of lies and he jumped off the first third-floor window he could see and slammed his face into the cold, hard earth and woke up in a dark cell somewhere couldn’t see a goddamn thing and just heard dirt falling around him but he wasn’t alive and he wasn’t in the ground it was just the sound of dirt falling around him on him somehow. He couldn’t place sounds. He could hear things, yes, but he couldn’t place them in the space around him. This wasn’t making any sense…
He woke up again and found it was just a dream. He went to his job the next day feeling smugly satisfied with his current dick size.
Do you think I’m annoying? The self conscious girl said to her self-conscious father-in-law.
Yes I think you’re so annoying. Rupert, the father-in-law, replied.
The self conscious girl did not say anything.
I wish you’d grow up. You’re fifteen years old.
I don’t know what to do with you. Really, I don’t.
The homes didn’t work out. Space flight academy didn’t work out.
You know that cost three hundred thousand dollars per hour?
Get some clothes that fit you. Not these awful-looking bags. What are these bags.
Sometimes I wonder if it was even worth having you.
The self conscious girl did not say anything.
Let’s go to the movies. I’ll buy you ice cream.
Do you think I’m annoying? The self conscious girl said. No one said anything.
