According to the US Bank website I have $43.o6 in my account.
posted by jeremy on July 04, 2004
& I feel too goddam much. What does a decade mean? Not much? Or too much...
& I look (fucking right now, right fucking here, fucking 29 years of age in PDX, 2000 motherfuckin' miles distant) at where it is from whence I emerged... & I realize how dead it all is for me, yet how alive. It's still happening. It still exist, Springboro, Ohio... tho mutated, horrendous, overrun with suburbs & cheap alterations, pumping out beautiful trash & sad hope & various fuckeree, I'm sure...
& I snap. Pow. Bang. Memories flood & I fight them back like a cheap superhero taking on the zombie hordes & like I said, I feel too much...
Suddenly I want to rage! Fuck! I'm still alive! But I'm dying! Time does pass! Time wins! Dust & ashes! All those people! All of that! Blown! I win! Lose! Old! Young! Winner! Loser! The lives of us all burn away, it's true, all those old men were right, goddam they were right.
It happens, it does, its really true...
But fuck it, I'm drunk & sad & happy & fine. There is so much else to everything, details spill, the skin cells of god flaking over us all, I tell you, just an example here, listen, Cassini rendezvoused with Saturn on the same day that Spider Man 2 opened... How amazing is that? These amazing images of those amazing rings paired with The Amazing Spider Man, christ, the synchronicity of existence can overwhelm a motherfucker sometimes...
& so tonight, riding home from the Crowbar, I swung off at Safeway to buy some beer, as ever & the gas station across the street was taped off with police tape & approximately 70,000 officers were milling about even as myriad other police cars raced up & down MLK... & my first thought was the word 'Shooting' (& with this, the sound of a bullet travelling thru our atmosphere & the sound a bullet makes impacting flesh & the amazing scream but a single bullet can conjure)... & I was right. The cashier was all too happy to recount what had happened but 15 minutes previous... "So a couple of guys start shootin at this chick in her car & fuck, man, she just pulls out her gun & starts shootin back & then she races out of there & they jump in another car & go after her & shit, man, fuck... Do you need your receipt?"
Riding out of there, I thought of stray bullets, innocent casualties, the bullshit of such a shootout... Those bullets have to go somewhere, right? How much you wanna bet said-fuckwits actually practice shooting those guns? You know, invest in developing any amount of accuracy & skill in handling such deadly tools... Often? Rarely? Never? I'd have to put my money on never. So I'm glad no-one was killed, this time. Still, riding past that yellow tape, watching the police question the harried-looking clerk, watching the 14-year old kid on a shoddy BMX bike ride slowly past, I found myself wishing those gangbangers had the skills to shoot themselves dead in three easy rounds... A triangular solution to such horrendous irresponsibility.
& besides, if you haven't figured it out already, guns are for pussies.
So anyway, good night & sleep well... & whatever you do, please try not to dream of invisible werewolves. I can assure you, they are no fun at all.
