Sunday, January 29, 2012
I had fallen asleep with the bright reading light shining in my eyes. Books are my only respite from the hell-world I live in and the instant my mind is distracted from that hell I tend to fall asleep. I need the rest more than I can let anyone literally know.
Buzzing in my ear like an annoying mosquito, I hear this angry black chick yelling somewhere around my apartment building. The buildings are close enough to cause an echo so I couldn't pinpoint her exact location. She was going back and forth with some dude in another building and the bitchiness of their argument finally awakened me. That's when I heard the first fully audible line from the girl.
"I don't know why I'm even talking with you! All you men is just shit anyway!"
Livid at being forced in as an unwilling participant - and maybe to stick up for my gender as well - I furiously slid open my window to reply in earnest. "Good! Then maybe you'll shut the fuck up!"
To my amazement it worked and I silently slid back my second story window so as not to press my luck. I was a bit proud of myself. Not very often do I stick up for my rights but the bickering pair caught me at a weak moment. A moment when I didn't give a shit if I lived or died. They respect that here in my neighborhood. Welcome to hell's kitchen where even the devil fears to tread.
Living in the ever growing underbelly of America is like living in a boiling pot - with the lid on. It's a 24/7 pressure cooker, a little voice inside of you constantly bleating, "This can't go on! This can't go on!" It's not just me, it's everyone thinking that. That shared bondage is our only sense of community. After that it's all dog eat dog.
I heard the lying, cocksucking President said, "America is back!" All I could think when I heard that was that someone needs to shank his ass. That way he can get back on that podium and speak the truth: "America sucks! We need to change!" See, man, we see things like they are here. Everyone is an animal looking to profit at the expense of someone else. Starts with some asshole President - and they're all the same to us - then it trickles down from there. Is there anybody not trying to pee on me and tell me it's raining? Anybody at all??
I look at the clock. 1:45 AM. Loudmouth assholes just had to wake me up when it's hard enough to sleep as it is. May as well try the book again. It's my refuge but also isolates me. I doubt if there's one fucker in a five mile radius who would care to read it. They would feel threatened by its smartness and look for any cheap shot to take at me in return. It's an anti-world here in the underbelly. It's all about what weapons you got in the game of survival.
"This can't go on! This can't go on!"
My weapons are few. Slight of build and non-confrontational, I can't bark like the big dogs do. They know that too. You're constantly sized up here, probed for any weakness. I'd be dead in the water if it weren't for my intelligence. I don't have enough to be what is called a success, just enough to get me by. The Pedal Jack I bought for my car saved it twice from being stolen out of the parking lot. Most thieves have never seen one and couldn't break it if they had. I searched long and hard for something to keep my car safe. It's only by the thinnest of margins I survive.
Grabbing the book allows me to push all that out of my mind. I know if I ever stray too far from that reality the constant tricksters around me would be more than glad to take advantage of that lapse of vigilance. We're all just barely getting by, struggling to face the horror before us: there's no way out. We laugh at the grand rhetoric and all the TV idiots who lament our plight on one hand then promote the causes of it on the other. Amazing the number of morons who still exist believing some politician is going to save them. I don't think anyone here is more honest, we just don't have the luxury of both lying and living.
After a few drifting minutes back in bed I hear the most glorious of sounds: party girls laughing. Not sure what I can do about getting them. Maybe I'll just run down the hallway and out the building naked and show them my dick. If they're cool they'll let me talk to them with my boner. If not, they'll call the police and tell them I ruined their lives and they need a hero to save the day. Either way, I need to look at them first.
I reach up to turn the light off so I can look out without being noticed. I turn the knob but the goddam light stays on! I turn it again and again but nothing! Of all the fricking times for it to fail! Jesus! I debate twisting the bulb out but it's too hot. Hurry, those babes are leaving! Finally I fall out of bed, hitting the floor with a jolt. Then I realize it had all been a dream. No women, just fatal wishful thinking.
"This can't go on! This can't go on!"
Nooky is as prized a possession as cash here. There's a superstar chick in the building west of me. I've seen her walk past with her fine legs and bare feet. She's way out of her boyfriend's league and I wonder if she knows it yet. I'm thinking he caught her early before she knew her true worth, what men and boys would do for her. I don't dare compete for her. Even if I win I lose because I'd have to fight off every guy for the rest of my life. There are no "career paths" here, so getting the best nooky you can is all the more paramount.
The head chick in the leasing office has some fine legs too. She's engaged but I heard her telling the mail lady the compliments she got on her legs. No one cares if you're married, engaged or whatever. All they care about is a 'yes' or 'no'. True love gets tested here! I know I wouldn't give a damn if I got a shot at those legs. A few moments to feel alive again, we're all starved for that to one degree or another. But then again I'd have to forget that late notice she gave me and the $25 fine which really pissed me off.
In the whitewashed world it's all daisies and buttercups. Your 40 year old virgin scores the hot chick and it's all cute and funny and sunshine. Here he'd get ass beat and mocked by the party babes. Shit, man, I don't know anyone who lives anywhere close to the movie fantasy world! The flow of propaganda coming down from all corners is a major mind fuck. What are these people trying to prove? That we don't exist? Probably so. But I'm here, I'm breathing. Best pray to God, motherfuckers, that we really don't count or hell is coming to eat you alive in your worst nightmares come true.
"This can't go on! This can't go on!"
At the hospital where I buff the floors, Vietnam vet Richard works in the surgical unit, cleaning up the blood and guts at the end of the day. We share lunch time in the surgical lounge sometimes and I love it because Richard plain does not give a shit anymore. I'd pay a million dollars to put him on one of those talking head shows. When his foot flares up from his war injury, he really gets on a roll on the ills of the world.
"You know who the real chickenshit cowards are? It's anyone who joins up. You know why? 'Cause they got no fucking idea who the real enemy is. They're brainwashed to think it's some devil 10,000 miles away. But the real devil is the bastard putting a rifle in your hand telling you, "Kill! Kill! Kill!" That's the fucker they oughtta shoot!"
Richard gets red faced when he talks like this. Some nights you hear him kicking the mop bucket, screaming at it in vain, but then walk out with a smile for the world. That smile has seen a lot.
"Yeah, stupid young punks. None of them got the guts to stand up to the fuckers sending them into shit. If we shot all those fuckers we could live in peace in this world. Why the fuck do we listen to them? Why the fuck do we listen, Harry?"
His eyes drift off. What he really means is why did he listen. And the poor bastard kids are suckered today same way they've always been. The old prey on the young with a vengeance, pushing all the right buttons, cackling in glee when they die, saluting them in solemn honor at the funeral. Always someone waiting for you to make that one mistake, not listen to your instincts, to give in to your insecurities and lead you down the road to death. Animal kingdom rules the world.
"This can't go on! This can't go on!"
Come to the laundromat in my hood. Think you could handle it? Look at the single mothers overrun by their children, people bonding in their pain, dead souls trapped till the day they die just going through the motions, desperate teenagers eyeing their parents' fate in fear it may be theirs, hard working souls never given a fair shake, voices speaking truths that would outrage any preacher, politician or pundit - it's all there in a microcosm. Judge them to become them.
The scratched up TV blares depressing daytime shows catering to the lowest common denominator. The producers believe people just want to see the shit in others' lives. Apparently, the Korean owners think the same having chosen this channel. Truth is, shows trolling for despair are about the only times we see ourselves publicly admitted. I heard this six-figure local radio guy the other just livid about people's desire to get on TV, to get their face out there. No, cocksucker, people want to LIVE. We want someone to admit we exist, that our country is broken and it's time to stop giving the rich a free ride.
Equality won't kill us just because you assholes think it will. All it does is give us a future.
Friday, January 27, 2012
When Thomas Elkin got his wildly inflated, otherworldly yearly bonus, first call he made was to his favorite hooker - $3,000 a night, sheets included. Next, he called his mother, thrilled with his worldly success. Lastly, he called a woman who would no longer talk to him, getting her voice mail as always. If only she could see me now! On an orb spinning in darkness, he bowed down to his well-financed image, hoping the illusion to be true.
Amanda Wittenberg dutifully ran the family shop. Inherited wealth protected her from any economic storm. She carried within her a list of her favorite restaurants, favorite cities, and even favorite closets of clothes. Male suitors were many, never far behind. She had everything and did everything, as expected. Life's perfection lacked only one missing piece: doing what she really wanted. How to give up the proven for the unproven?
Sydney Hallison has a pocketful of answers! If the world suddenly became absent of pestering questions and perilous dilemmas she would die of agonizing atrophy. For each answer she presented to a searching soul, she awarded herself a gold star. "I am most excellent and special!" she'd often proclaim with a certain smile. Across the glorious globe only one person did she refuse to be there for: herself. Ukrainian bitch.
Sherry Hodges faked another orgasm on this cold winter's night. "You were just fantastic, honey!" She stayed home to pursue her dream of writing. Just imagine such a fantastical career! Once writing, new exciting worlds opened up shedding light in darkly held corners. Her marriage, her children's dreams, her parents' approval, her nosy friends - each and every one was presented in a disturbingly new way. Carefully, she made sure never to write an honest word, thus avoiding any chance of damaging conflict - and any chance of possible success.
The right honorable Senator Oscar Tibbs was the first elected black man from his state. Blessed with pleasing looks and engaging charm, he championed the ideals of the dead Martin Luther King. His campaign to be liked was a runaway success, role model and hero he be in the adoring eyes of his constituents. Yet never did he himself believe it true, trolling for prostitutes of degradation in homeless city nights. His campaign slogan: "We need only to believe to win!"
Lance Finster knew how to get the girls. And not just any girls, but fantasy girls of unearthly delight! He labored as a carpet cleaner on a lark but gathering envy was his true paycheck in life. In the tri-state area of his domain he knew of no other who could match his trophy case of ecstasy dream life. Yes, he could be anything he wanted to be - just so long as he didn't have to be anything.
Perry Heinsom hated the only job he could ever hold. He dreamed of a tropical island where only he would live. Once there he'd never lift a finger in anger again, never having to lie. In time, he planned to purchase his paradise even as his job consumed him, his health and his relationships. But he remained undaunted in the race to create his own personal empire - and then sit upon its throne in sickly silent splendor.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
There's an eternal naiveté about war and it's one that inhabits most its proponents who most claim to know its dangers. As all the world truly is a stage, those with war in their souls must sell that war and thusly turn a blind eye to the true reality of its futility and useless wreckage. That is why even after all this time we still hear (and trust) the chant, "War is hope! Peace is doom!" But there is no ultimate profit to the illusion.
America has a unique war fetish. One day we were walking along and saw a bully beating someone up. We stopped the bully and felt really good about ourselves. Then we saw someone who was thinking of being a bully and so we beat that person up too. Then we someone who looked like a bully to our eyes and so we beat him up too. Until finally, slowly, we became the bully - but in our minds are still doing the Lord's work. That's the illusion of war.
America, of course, is not unique in her self-deception and stupidity about war. Like any drug, the longer you take it the more it corrupts you until you become the very thing you're fighting. You have no choice but to become that to which you give all your energy. And that's how Israel took the "role of the Nazis" in her early 80's siege of Lebanon as described in the animated documentary "Waltz With Bashir".
It has been described as an anti-war film. It is not. It is a pro-truth film, one intent on fact finding. It is the truth that is anti-war. The film's director was a participant in the Lebanon siege but has suppressed his memories of it. Like James Clavell in "King Rat", he must visit the past in order to keep his future. He seeks out his comrades in arms, retracing the descent that led to the Sabra and Shatila massacre.
Here's an abridged Wiki on the event:
The Sabra and Shatila massacre took place in the Sabra and Shatila Palestinian refugee camps in Beirut, Lebanon between September 16 and September 18, 1982, during the Lebanese civil war. Palestinian and Lebanese civilians were massacred in the camps by Christian Lebanese Phalangists while the camp was surrounded by the Israel Defense Force. In that period of time, Israel was at war with the PLO in Lebanon. Israeli forces occupied Beirut, controlled the entrances to the refugee camps of Palestinians and controlled the entrance to the city. The exact number of victims is disputed, from 700–800 to 3,500 (depending on the source).
Israeli forces enabled the entrance of the Christian Phalangist militia to the refugee camps by firing illuminating flares over the camps. The Phalangists were enraged by the assasination of Lebanese Christian president-elect Bashir Gemayel. The forces were under the direct command of Elie Hobeika, who later became a long-serving Member of the Parliament of Lebanon and, in the 1990s, a Lebanese cabinet minister.
Lebanon or Aushwitz?
Janet Lee Stevens, an American journalist, later wrote to her husband, Dr. Franklin Lamb:
"I saw dead women in their houses with their skirts up to their waists and their legs spread apart; dozens of young men shot after being lined up against an alley wall; children with their throats slit, a pregnant woman with her stomach chopped open, her eyes still wide open, her blackened face silently screaming in horror; countless babies and toddlers who had been stabbed or ripped apart and who had been thrown into garbage piles."
In 1982, an independent commission chaired by Sean MacBride concluded that the Israeli authorities or forces were, directly or indirectly, responsible. The Israeli government established the Kahan Commission to investigate, and in early 1983 it found that Israeli military personnel were aware that a massacre was in progress without taking serious steps to stop it. Therefore it regarded Israel as having indirect responsibility. The commission held Ariel Sharon personally responsible for having disregarded the prospect of acts of bloodshed by the Phalangists against the population of the refugee camps and not preventing their entry.
Families lined up against the walls and shot in cold blood. Genocide deja vu. And the director was one of those shooting the flares into the murderous night of screams to enable the slaughter. All the more shocking when he reveals his ancestors were in Auschwitz, another place of genocide. With this he must make peace.
There are no Jews, no Christians, no Islamists, no atheists or agnostics, no blacks, no whites, no Germans, no Americans, no anything - it's sheer hogwash made up in our heads to make our wars seem justified. We are each merely a soul in need of love, nothing more, nothing less. But rare are those who believe that, because to do so means we kill for no reason.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
We wander here day after day
I don't remember the Before Times, when things was all green. Wasn't even born. Like all the babies now I didn't get a name till I was five, showing I could live that long. My name is Whisper In The Wind. Getting that was my real birth. Before that I was just "Blonde Girl 12".
Even these few trees got us excited
We had to hack our way through
We felt something different about these trees...
...like they were warning us
But one still reached for the sky
We hear wild tales of the Before Times. But us young ones aren't so sure about them. Some say they had so much food they even threw it away. Imagine! No person could ever do such a thing. But no denying they also put so much poison in the air, land and water it killed off the planet. I wouldn't of thought anyone could ever do that either. But we live it every day.
It's like the land was angry here
Another day getting late as we wander the wastelands
We reached a thicket we thought was a dead end.
Some took it as a sign to go back.
Others said it was a test for going forward.
In the Before Times the world was ruled by witches and demons. The witches cast spells on their minds making them believe crazy stuff like if you throw away your food that means you have enough to never run out. And if anyone didn't believe like they was supposed to, the demons come to torture you and take your food away. What scary times those must have been.
We went through the thicket, to pass the test.
A road! We found a road!
Our hearts were beating. What ruins might we find?
The path turned green, even the sun got shinier.
Anything green makes us happy.
The thicket was a test after all.
All we do is wander, no place to go. In the cities they hide in the old structures. But if you sleep they take the shoes off your feet. So we stick to the country to find a place that's not been found. I was made leader of our group but I have no way to guide. I whisper here in my journal but who will ever read it?
Them birds was watching us but we
was glad just to see animal life.
Then the trees cleared away and we saw this.
We all stopped, looking to each other.
Look at the stumps. Is the water poison?
Sure looked dead up close
Used to be even the seasons was different. The Old Ones messed with the forces of Nature and wrecked even the weather! We wait for rain that never comes and the soil is all drained to where food won't grow anymore. I'm really thinking they never knew how good they had it. When their magic liquids ran out that made the whole world move in hours and not days, they just starved to death before any food could get to them anyway.
We went around the edges hoping to find more
The rocks got bigger, then we started seeing trees - green trees!
So much water! Have we found a Staying Place??
We came across a big water pond. I'm sitting under a table shelter looking out. Feel like I'm sitting in the past, ghosts all around me. But it's quiet here. I wonder how many of us humans are left. My group is together but lonely. Sometimes someone hums a song passed down from the Old Days and I wonder why they died, it's so beautiful. I'm crying now.
I don't ever want to leave this spot
The Old Ones came here to play. Did they ever think
people like us would use them for shelter?
I have a bad feeling. Don't know why.
A new way is coming out, none of the old ways can stay. Can we survive long enough to see its end? Nature puts the world back in order. Voices of mistrust hide from it and die off. But us, we're learning to trust our nature and know the reality of love. I feel if I didn't have to worry about food I could explode with all the life building in me. Others are feeling the same. We are ready to live as one!
The trees melted into sand. I remembered hearing stories...
...something about dimensions overlapping
I was being pulled forward, to an answer in the wind
I felt like we were sliding, slipping into distortion
The world was used up, tore apart and shattered like glass. The spells had them thinking they was civilized people, makers of life, not death. But all they left us was tears. Too late they find out the lie of the witches' spells. Like always when times got bad people went to the witches for answers. One day they couldn't keep their masks on anymore and people found out everything was gone forever. The witches and demons just laughed at people falling for their tricks.
Around the corner I find the water's source
I look back to see if the sun is still there.
How did the waters up ahead get so dark??
I keep going, driven, pushed along.
Things look different back here.
Is this one of those dimension portals?
The view is so distorted...
The spells are fading, our eyes opening wide. We walk out of the fog at last. I wish we hadn't had to go through all the hells we have. Love was waiting on us all along. War has left my heart, I surrender to peace, let that take me where it will. Our dreams of life wash us clean. In the meantime, we will wander and forage, living as one, adding others as we go along. It's all I've ever known.
At last, the sun! But the colors are wrong...
I look back in horror. I did pass through a portal! What kind of world have I entered?
The sun fades and the colors change
In ancient Mordor do I walk
How can anything survive in a place so barren?
I try to run back to the sun but the
world tilts, throwing me backward.
Then the sun went black. I screamed, but it
was as a whisper in the wind.
I'm trapped in the anti-world, a land mine left by the Old Ones.
How long must we pay for their debts? Is life still possible?