2002-09-16 - 11:05 p.m.
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Wriggleys Doublemint Fugg gum
The cool Mid-September air strokes my hand as it lazily falls out the window, moon resting softly on the sleeve of my shirt. Music is screaming at us, trying to keep up with the wind's furiosity. I still can't seem to shake the thoughts of this weekend's tragedies, the outright crimes against existence. Toying with minds, taudry lies spewed out like oxygen.
Nothing is as it seems when it's too good to be.
Cable guy came today, as you can see because I'm writing tonight, my computer repaired on the same day. Cracking open the desktop, like opening a tomb or a crypt. The old stenches of anger creep put and spill over me as I open piece after piece of old laundry and let it air out on my monitor. These poems reeked of desperation and intense solidarity, a crying help from the bottom of the barrel of barrels.
This glorious house is eating me whole, barely regurgitating me lately. Classes, ehhhhh, they'll be there. The video game needs my attention, my bedroom calls and beckons me to be painted, the washer and dryer, imminent as death but not showing just the same. Wastes of time wasted while wasted and a waste. I'm like one of those cop beatup dummies beaten within inches of it's life.
Try to ignore the looming threat of terror-filled death and you'd just be following the American Way. We beat the piss out of people and we wonder why we're so loathed around the world. But I'm not here to stand on a soapbox and give the standard issue ruzzaruzza about us as the monster or us as the victim or us as the right way to be or US. I'm too tired to stand.
I cling dearly to everything I hold dear as the car races down 374, Shpunt cursing at idiot assholes, driving way too slow for thier own good. I laugh because, hey, it's fucking funny, and because I needed a laugh and grabbing them where I can find them is the only way I get any lately.
The living room, once alive with conversation and the most Lowellian air I've tasted since I've left the place, now is angry again, furious with televisons blaring, computer clicking and humming away while we dick around, clicking through. Homework is a very second place for no reason in particular, just another in the army of "Shittoodoo". The house has been neglected by another crew as we look at the walls and chew our favorite brand of gum. Fuggg gum. There are holes everywhere, ragged plaster beasts holding out the cold. And I chew away.
Fuggg gum all.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
