October 03, 2008

Moments in Mary Jane's Mind

(Written on an idle day, my mind in a place I cannot define, or maybe it was several places.
For Daffy, who thinks I'm “weird as hell”.)

It was you, it was you, who made my black eyes red.

I'm poetic, absolutely dramatic
I'm emotional, artistically erratic
I have to hold my breath to be
It all clears up then and suddenly I see

The kitten stayed down
The crowd always pressing in
Waiting to snatch her
And carry out all sorts of cruel experiments
Pet her, stroke her
Their way of showing affection
It was terrifying
She crouched real low

The kitten stayed a kitten
Because she was too scared to grow up
She waited with a close eye on the world
She froze, couldn't move
But wouldn't tell why
She had no friends to hold her hand
They all learned new cultures and wandered away
They all knew they had nothing to say.

The kitten became existentialist
And on her own she cried
The key to freedom is sorrow
The loss will be hers alone
She sprang from the chains that held her
Broke free and tore away
She'll reach somewhere faraway and quiet
And teach herself her own story
Maybe sharpen her own claws

She'll grow into a fat old kitten
But never be a youngish cat

Time was going slow ten minutes ago. Now, it's going really fast. Time is an illusion. Everything is an illusion. So is this knife. I plunge it into me. Again and again. Die. Die. Die. But...I'm alive. I know it in my soul. Life then, is an illusion.

Imagine, the airport tax is like five thousand bucks. Imagine again, the amount of money it takes to maintain these aircraft, smiling air-hostessess, moody ground-staff, etc, etc. Just so humans can get to another place really quickly, go back, and do the same thing next day. Why can't we make life slower so that there won't be any airport tax?... This is not the moral or ending I wanted but I forgot what is.
But it was bad, I tell you.
Airport tax, LOL.
Wait, I remember. The ending and moral were the same. And that is, that these humans are incredibly stupid. Especially those girls who wear stilettos to clinics.

They like me. They want me to go with them. They like that I clown around and tell jokes. They can laugh at me instead of with me. They can feel that much better about themselves. They can say, “See, I'm nowhere close to as weird and psychotic as her. I'm a much better person. She is so messed up and obsessive, with absolutely no goals in life. What a waste of space. I'm so glad I'm me and not her.” Then there is finally hope and peace and light in their world again. I have made them happy through my sorry existiness, just being these raggedy bits that don't fit. It is because of my endless sarcastic jokes, and the one massive comedy I feel I have become sometimes. My clown hat is my bittersweet solace. They like me very much.

There must have really been people who looked like that whenever I saw them. Even though I might have been really too young then, right? I mean, why would my brain make them up? I might have been too small to remember details except to store their faces in a snapshot cache, sort of like the way Google does with deleted websites. You can't remember the place or date, but you do remember stupid things that seem meaningless, like the bright sunlight and the sweat on his face. Sometimes, you can remember their expressions. Most of them just look sad. Tired. Faded. Angry, even. Something so hopeless about them. I probably look like that too, to them, with tears always glittering in these swollen eyes. I'm talking about those people you suddenly see in your head and you go, “WHOA, who are YOU, big guy?”

Imagine a lecture. The eminent professor is taking you for a walk.
Picture for a minute, the primitive man. The pre-superhuman. These simple humans thought that burying nuclear waste was eco-friendly. Of course they realized their follies but only as they were suddenly destroyed and nature kindly molded them into these casts that are preserved even today. The casts, as you know, were retrieved using xenon analyzers at exorbitant expense. The early humans were unanimalistic as they could be. They wore ugly things called “clothes”, cooked their foods, and held weird rituals like “football games” and “beer-pong” to pass the time of their dull lives. Some were even atheists and all. Can you even contemplate such simple minds? Delightfully immature, as it were. We on the other hand, are so superior we leave them billion light years behind. We run around naked, eat raw meat from the rabbits, and fruits from the trees. Why, we even have quaint postal addresses. What is ours now? Hard to remember.. let's see.. yes.. No.1, Tree of Knowledge Road, Extreme Temptation Zone, You are Nearly There Sector, Garden of Eden. Nice ain't it. A very fashionable part of town we live in.. Thank God for that. Now, where were we...
Look, what is this big, inviting tree? Let's eat those shiny apples, shall we?
No, no. This is a lie. The xenon analyzer was just an old nut-case pretending to be a diviner, holding an old stick that was pretending to be a magic rod. He charges way too much per go, that tricky jackass.
Stop now, you are going back in time instead of forward.
Don't touch the damn tree. Come away before it's too late.
No, don't eat that apple.
Oh no. Oh no.
Oh no.
Time hitchhiking can be a drag. You see the weirdest things.

Drinker 1: This is Method 1. You should get really drunk. Then you'll get really happy. Go out into the world and help the poor people. They'll be crying about their hard lives. Listen to them, encourage them. You'll make them happy. You'll return home, tire, bored and extremely cynical. So you'll go and drink some more. You'll get happy again. It's a drunken cycle but it's proven to work.
Drinker 2: This is Method 2, a more recently discovered one that the majority of people follow. You can drink and become happy. Then, just stay indoors, drink some more, and become happy some more. That's all you have to do. This way, if you don't distract the unlucky (pun intended) poor by offering to listen, they can use the free time doing better things. Like winning a lottery or less romantically, filling out applications for government aid. They can take care of themselves and you can talk to them when they buy the house next to you. You can discuss common things, like the price of tuition in private schools and the marks your smart children get. Then we'll all be happy at the same time, instead of at different times, as against the suggestion in Method 1. The cost of traveling visiting the poor where they live in far-off places is avoided too.
Drinker 1: Your way is cool too
Drinker 2: Thanks. I thought of it myself.

I was there before this great indignity was done to you
I was there before you bound me to you like a shadow
I was there when you saw the soldier take a bullet to his chest
I was there when you carefully never gave your best
I was there when you saw Daddy hitting Mom
I was there when you drank and beat your own son
I was there when they raped your body as you shook
I was there when the brute with the whip made you choke
I was there when you raced sweat-drenched through the rain
I was there when you tried to stop her putting the gun to her brain
I was there when you rented your first dirty movie
I was there when he touched your face and you gasped
I was there when you found out she hated you for surviving
I was there when she took your money and left
I was there when you were betrayed by your shameless offspring
I was there when you remembered even when I forgot

I was there before it all
I was there through it all
And I know it all
I let you suffer in silence
I really had nothing to say

Boys become men
Only when they see


karen said...

its really nice!!!!!!

Psmith said...

yes . . strange but nice

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