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| There are not many of us left here. Most have fled, taking only what the can carry and leaving friends and family to fend for themselves. The city has fallen, vandals have swept through like cockroaches through the cupboards, scrounging what little valuables remained in the gutters. All that is left are the ones and zeros, trapped in shoddy vaults that will never be opened again.
The last chopper has arrived...
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| I get stopped in the hallway everyday, people tell me "Nice Costume" with the expectation of me to say "It's not a costume, it's a uniform." I've outgrown these halls, it's time to move on to a new place with new hurdles to overcome. The right words never come to mind when there needed, and it's usually too late when they do. Maybe that's why I write well. I can sit here for 10 minutes thinking of this line, playing with a tiny silver film can while my brain spools the gibberish side to side. I feel like I'm living in a slow-motion train wreck. Things are so focused right now that there is no room on the horizon but the twisted rails ahead.
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| Cages are for animals and caves are for neanderthals, but someone let the cages open and the animals are loose, foraging on cold pizza and gatorade.
All of this horseshit keeps spinning around and around and around and it makes me nauseous and angry at the same time. The fixers will always follow the fuck-ups, constantly shoveling the debris out of their wake. There is no end in sight, the horizon is black and the whipmasters are calling for more coal in the furnace. Increase Production, Elimate Waste. These are Ideals, Codes to Live By. They are not attainable by any means, because we are not machines. The thumping hum will not stop; melodic nonsense, white noise for the masses. Fuck the sirens. Everyone wants a piece of the action, a slice of celebrity with a large side of dough, but no one wants the bill. A thing is only as strong as its weakest part. I need sleep, sleep is for the dead.
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| It's usually takes a cigarette and a half to get to work on any given day, but today (and probably for the forseeable future) it's a twenty-minute sway, shifting betwen third, forth and fifth gears, skull baking inside my combat helmet under the beating afternoon sun. I wouldn't say I'm any better or worse now than I was a week ago, things have just shifted gears, changed pace down to the slow lane. After all, you can only speed in top gear for so long before things bust loose. That's the first lesson for loosers at craps.
When you're left to wander like a starved zombie in a shopping mall, there's only two people in the world you can call. And they will come, no matter where in the hell you are.
Continued
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| Voices, sounds recorded on a strip of magnetic film. Played back at the right speed you have beautiful music, but deviate by even a fraction of a rotation and it just isn't the same. Maybe you think it sounds better at half speed, but that has no meaning to the Artist. That was not the INTENTION, to slowly and drunkenly slur the lyrics of a heartfelt ballad. Fuck All That, it's my deck and I have my finger on the brakes.
Some people think that the smallest actions they may or may not do affect the outcome of their lives. They think that if they crawl out of their slumber from the foot of the bed something bad will happen to them. If they would have run a yellow light or two they might have beat some bad news home. I am one of these fools. I am a magnet for bad luck and static electricity. It shoots out of my fingertips as I shuffle down this slippery slope of post-graduation lull and utter failure. I used to think I had magic in my hands, that I could bend the Rules my way for a while. There Are No Rules, as I later realized, and that's why things are the way they are, for good or ill.
Some say "You only get what you give" but I think they were off by a letter. You only get what you're GIVEN. I don't come from money and if it wasn't for bad luck I'd be out of luck, but looking around me I don't see too many sympathizers. I live and work in the temple of good fortune and fat wallets. Not too many people changing money here can say that they've made, for good or ill, each and every decision that's brought them to where they are at this instant. They were GIVEN.
It's the cornerstone of Amerikan Democracy, inherited wealth, and everyone around me bleeds the colors. Perhaps this isn't the place for me. Maybe they'll call me a damn dirty commie sooner or later. It doesn't matter, I'm not in the club anyways. I don't have any keys and I'm locked out and there's no use worrying over something that important. I give up, I'm going home.
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