Get up, get out, get somethin

Another Friday night in the time of our lives.

I’d like to say that, since last time, I’ve discovered something profound. Alas, insight into my own human condition, let alone the human condition remains as evasive as ever. Sitting on our neighbor’s roof, looming down upon the unsuspecting pedestrians from our plastic lawnchair thrones, hurling cat calls and empty Keystones at the world below… I guess this friday wasn’t a complete waste. It might not be earth shattering, but if you’re gonna be average, at least be average on a roof.

I don’t know what the deal is. I’m off my game tonight… I can feel the weasels closing in and, crouching with a knife in my teeth and a greedy hate in my eyes, I wait for them eagerly. At least that’s the way it usually runs, when all is right with the world. Now it feels like the fuckers kicked in my window in the middle of the night, and my dream becomes a storm of broken glass and soap bars wrapped in towels. They’ve outflanked me somehow, suddenly the bastards are coming at me from all sides. Stay cool. Control. Knees bent and hands up, eyes on your opponent.

Maybe I’ll pack a bag… Boots, tarot cards, sunglasses, and a book of matches. I’ll join a carnival, tell fortunes to overweight, superstitious housewives named Margaret, taking their cash and their secrets before we move to the next town. Yes, honey, you were right to spend four grand on that grilled-cheese sandwich with the unmistakable image of the Virgin Mary on it. A great investment; I’m sure the Lord looks favorably upon all your eBay purchases. I’ll wear a black suit and dark glasses, pretend I’m blind and tell them I can see their dead uncles. He says he’s sorry, Betty, and he never meant any of the hateful things he said about your cats. Back alley seances and bullshit voodoo charms, now that’s the life for me. Tell the people what they want to hear, look as Eastern and omniscient as possible, light some candles and take their twenty bucks.

I went downtown, but that fizzled fast. Long lines, loud drunks, that same Snoop song over and over… Damn.

I’ll bet it’s because I fell on my neck. My shit hurts, and while I retain a high degree of motor control, I may have severed some core spiritual nerve unknown to modern medicine. Damn you, backflips, damn you to hell.

The right thing to do for the next few days is to bury myself in books, to try and salvage the remains of this quarter.
Fuck. Buy the ticket, take the ride. I’ll take a box of poptarts and a walkman to the library, and emerge in a week with a beard like a mental patient and a tan like the undead. I’ll stumble into the light, shielding my eyes from the sun, my atrophied knees shaking. C will become my native tongue, and I’ll have the cryptic runes of Fourier series equations tattooed up my arms. Like a beautiful butterfly…a beautiful butterfly with scurvy, and a nervous tic. How did it come to this?

Sometimes things are askew and you don’t know what to do to right it.
I can hear the rattling, the metal grinding on metal, but I got no idea where to look for the break. All you can do is turn up Southerplayalisticadillacmuzik and try and drown out the wrongness of it all.

Sometimes there’s just nothing else to do.

-T.

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2 Responses to “Get up, get out, get somethin”

  1. earthshinesheep Says:

    just got our life aqatic-esqu pictures back. damn exciting! i’ll keep some for you and jo–they are great. your roommate looks like he belongs on the bellafonte!

  2. “C will become my native tongue, and I’ll have the cryptic runes of Fourier series equations tattooed up my arms. Like a beautiful butterfly…a beautiful butterfly with scurvy, and a nervous tic. How did it come to this?”

    Damn man, that’s just brilliant. I bow before your literary might! :)

    Axe’

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