Thursday, October 24, 2013

Desperate Measures


Desperate times.

It is getting cold. I need new shirts, a warm hat, a hoody. I have found a way to sleep outside, for free. I'm looking into the legality of it. There are public/private property issues to consider. There is hardly hotel wi-fi in the great beyond. 

This site may cease to be, unless I post from my phone. The pictures are never sized correctly. I always have to adjust. Always.

I have been looking at sleeper vans, rivers, government cheese, etc.

For today, I am a commuter again. I rode the bus from Fulton to Market. There was a man riding along with us that was horribly deformed. I was reminded of mammality. I did not want to be near him. I wanted him to leave the pack, a pack that I also desperately wanted to leave. But still.... he should go first. I watched him walk away after he got off the bus, into the early morning darkness. I could see his facial deformities even with his back towards us. They were that pronounced. 

I don't want to ride the bus any more. 

I wanted to pray for him but then thought better of it. I was afraid that I would ask god to keep him away from me.

We are all twisted. The idea is to find someone who will tell you that you are not, then hold on to them and tell them the same. Smile often. Kiss often. Etc. 

I have been reading a lot. James Joyce, Dubliners. Though I just read it somewhat recently, I will re-read Winesburg, Ohio again soon. I can feel it. I need to remind myself of a thing felt though sometimes forgotten. 

We are all twisted, and those shapes get locked up together like a wood and steel puzzle found in quaint roadside diners; meant to test the iq of children, to occupy the youngsters for a time. It seems impossible that the pieces could ever become separated, though the mind knows that it must be so, the mind feels it to be true. Why else would these games be placed upon the tables. The parents will give it a try for a while, then pass it over to the children. Within minutes, shortly after the parents have given up on it... VoilĂ ! 

The parts are suddenly in pieces.