An Infinity of Intrepid Losses

"Ah, I love the colorful clothes you wear"

Brian Wilson

 

She took me to a movie tonight and I paid.  The rainclouds rushed away as I bore into the lion’s den of city, their black tendrils sweeping back from whence I’d come.  A song in my heart, on the rusty radio, a red Toyota Celica bearing one passenger and no time for reservations.

I arrived late, she arrived later. 

 

YOURSEADREAMS: Hey I heard we have a new president.

DMSQDMN17: I’d rather not talk about it.

YOURSEADREAMS: Not into politics?

DMSQDMN17: I didn’t vote.

YOURSEADREAMS: Why?

DMSQDMN17: Not just because I’m a registered felon… Its just that there are other things dominating my life right now.

YOURSEADREAMS:  My life is fucked up.  I welcome the relief of a good cocksucking contest between baby-killers and ass-kissers

DMSQDMN17: Mean Ass-Killers and Baby-Kissers?

YOURSEADREAMS: Same Diff

 

If someone in the listening heaven had directed puppets to have a conversation comprised entirely of talking about themselves, would they see their words were burning?  Crossing 13^th street the fog rises from appears, or is it smoke?  Nebulous asphyxiation in the infinity of that city of memories.  Your things are my trigger strings.

Dishes, keys, and quill pens.  Holding me here while you fly away, as if you could ever fasten your body to anything.  All sinewy limbs and flung recklessly about the ether of his promises.

 

SlowaDucha: Love is the bastard child of hope, and all those other suitors suggesting anything other than what science is slowly “proving” to be survival over time.

*** Auto-response sent to SLOWADUCHA: Burning words- writing smoke- pain inks its black contours over the canvas-stretched pages of my heart.

SlowaDucha: come back! prolific emo wrench!

 

Spent every last dime on butter.  Entered the dark breast of the theatre just in time to crinkle our popcorn at shoddy previews in progress.  “Where do you want to sit?”
“Let’s just stand here. Pretend we waiting for someone.”

A preview about hope permeating the lives of those living in some shithole African Nation where little boys can grow up to one day be twelve and carry a gun to shoot at their neighbors’ moms.  “How do you feel about Hope?” 

“Don’t get me started,” she said.

 

Staring at the lake.

Wearing your brother’s army-green jacket, and staring at the lake.  Clouds reflect there, and this city, and the sun isn’t really setting, it’s just the Earth spinning.  Those clouds aren’t permanent, but maybe that’s where I’m wrong.  Maybe nothing is permanent except those clouds.  The ever-changing is the one thing that will always stay the same.

        “I didn’t recognize you,” she says.  I shaved.  I have changed but she recognizes me.  Somewhere below the surface, the Man in the Mask is still me.  Still just me staring at the lake.

Staring at the lake.

 

DMSQDMN17: this isn’t happiness.
NOSTLGIA4SMRFS: I'm afraid of everything.  I can't help myself.
DMSQDMN17: Dissaffectation’s the word, have you heard? Have you heard?

NOSTLGIA4SMRFS: There’s nothing up, only down.  Snowy weather and noisy white static smothering my senses

NOSTLGIA4SMRFS: with empty promises

NOSTLGIA4SMRFS: of later nothings

DMSQDMN17:  Make good on disappointment through the redemptive power of art. 

NOSTLGIA4SMRFS: I’m not dissuaded.  Art fails to grip or illumine me.

DMSQDMN17: Today's the day.

NOSTLGIA4SMRFS:  You mean like all the events that will transpire due to my aloofness?

DMSQDMN17: Today I smoked a Victory!

 

I hate watching people eat.  Repulsive!  Our frenzied animal need for replenishment in all its variegated formalities and ritual.  Such a disconnect— our basest penury vs. our highest aspirations.  God Dammit!  Human needs are the only endless thing.

 

Love is for vanishing into the sky

Rumi

 

SuppleCinStringSextus: I am worried about John McCain.

DMsqdMn17: I’m worried about losing my job.

SuppleCinStringSextus: Everybody loses everything all the time

…

DMSQDMN17: Sorry.  What? I was distracted by the rain.

 

Tickets and tears exchanged for drama.  “Well, thanks for yet another evening steeped in merriment and friendship,” I sniffed.  Craving a hug, we do not touch.  Yearning for a past that never was is the most powerful kind of yearning.  Men hold onto ideas.  The world holds onto nothing.  “Goodnight,” she said. 

It’s quiet tonight.  No where to go and too dangerous to get there.

 

Utopia.  From the Greek Ou Topos or quite literally 'No Place.'  This city is filled with fog, and somewhere hidden heaven holds onto our dreams.  How do you not have hope?  Fill the empty spaces with abstract proportions?

A little leeway on the freeway.  Long open road while a New Orlean funeral dirge blares triumphant on the radio.

 

YOURSEADREAMS: Stop making promises you cannot keep

DMSQDMN17: You have to believe in Something, right? 

YOURSEADREAMS: No!  Why? Do you?  When’s the last time you took your mask off?

 

When does the mask come off?  After work?  No! At home there are just more masks.  And happiness eludes me like semi-bucolic sunshine during a progressively dismal series of rainy days in the heart of the outskirts of this city.

 

DMSQDMN17: I keep telling myself if I had more time to sort this or that out… but I never do.

DMSQDMN17: Maybe this is who I am.

 

 I am driving in the wrong direction through this pluvial dance of rain.  Chaotic and by turns dull, droplets of water fall and splatter to their deaths. 

Little liquid losers, too numerous to name or mourn.

 

hiyacutie232: Is there something wrong with that?

dmsqdmn17: It just means nothing is solved.  It means all my problems are being postponed until later.

hiyacutie232: At least you have something to hold on to

dmsqdmn17: like what?

hiyacutie232: Did you have a good day today?

dmsqdmn17: She took me to a movie tonight and I paid.