“I was living in an old third story walk-up from god knows when? There I was, standing in the lounge area by the front door waiting for my father or someone like that when I heard a commotion from the stairs outside my door. I figuring it was a long familiar neighbor on the other side of the top of the stairs. But after hearing an ensuing very resonant verbal exchange signaling an argument issuing from the landing just outside, to my surprise, the front door exploded open and the building manager, Maria stormed in holding a small knife. Little beknownced by me, she turned out to be his girlfriend. My neighbor storming in after her to spiritedly apologize claiming that he wasn’t mad at her. My own intuitive response echoed in a very pronounced, “Oh boy, here we go, now it’s going to start!” The two pacing back and forth from my entryway back out into the hallway. My attempts to close the door behind them cut short several times and they returned just at the point before the door clicked shut.”
If you feel your life has degenerated, then it is your fault! And if my life has degenerated then it is my fault. I have violated the species. I haven’t conformed to the unwritten laws of its conduct. And therefore, I am abandoned to my own fate! Exiled from humanity! Squandered the gift of life! What come next? Will I fear to see people dropping in the streets from some unknown illness as a form of sport providing me cheap with entertainment? To enjoy the extremes of misfortunes gone amuck that seems to stimulate some form of perverse form of life affirming pleasure? Something that stimulates and thrills me in a very negative way. The pain of others so unfairly bestowed something to be in wonder of to that point of a sexual peak. A sad conclusion for someone who through the balance of their youth was so naive and innocent. Someone whose view of the future seemed so hopeful. Someone too naive to engage in the darkest depths of cynicism and then hope to return unscathed from the depths of that ocean littered with skeletons and those scalloped shells now the remnants of the horrid things that had entrapped them. Those errant souls never again to be afford the rays of the Sun through the inky silt of its clutching bottom.
Who cares? She doesn’t care! I don’t care about her! She knows that I don’t care about her. I didn’t call her. If I would have called her, then I would have cared. But I don’t care! Why should I care? She certainly hasn’t made any overtures to me! And so, it goes on. So it goes on, the slow breakdown of society, as with the lives of so many. The benefit of normal family life withheld. And so they do not know what it is to be considered as a possible future in someone else’s life. They only know the present. And the present goes on forever, and in someways extends for eternity. An eternity of minutes never maturing into hours before the mental approach of a dawn that never seems to come. Something so far away as to be endless in a sense of longing that leads too quickly into misery and then to despair. Promising an end that ever precludes finding the energy to look into something else. That kind of life atrophied like a dead leaf at the conclusion of Autumn that bursts into color at the end of its life’s pedantic cycle. But human beings just seem to rot as if intellectually chewed by the mouth of a Malthus to be digested by a dark poet like Poe. Someone who can truly appreciate the atrophy of one’s suffering unrequited love gone corrupt and no longer aimed in any reasonable vector. Festering by turning to acid soon to dissolve one’s self.
The relations between the sexes so bad that one now needed a retina scan to verify the permission to have the ability to perform coitus with one’s own lawful wife. Thus joining the crowd to ride the escalator down to that reliable lower level of despair. Consistency of manufacture being what it is, it might be nice to enjoy an occasional epiphany. One that might encourage one to suddenly exclaim a hopeful, “Yes, mommy and daddy, take me to Disneyland!” “Keep me in Disneyland, and don’t let anybody else tell me otherwise!” “Because, I WANT HAPPINESS!!” I never paid for it, nor took any responsibility to get it, or refrained by repeatedly being led to the brink of disaster by those that pretend a solution . . . “But take me to Disneyland, Mommy and Daddy!” “Take me now!” “I love Mickey and Goofy, and I love Captain Jack Sparrow!”
And so, I fell in love with a beautiful young black woman. A coffee importer by trade. She was so nice! We got to know each other through my landlord. When I first met her I was preoccupied with some informal deal. The other party having driven off with my car keys still stuck in the open gas door. The old Bronco being loaded with all sorts of stuff of mine both on the back and on the front. And there she was! I wanted to see her, and I went to her place, and she was having a party where everyone else was around the rooms and stuff. And after some time, both she and I now laying casually upon a bed she took some coffee grounds and slowly rubbed them on my shoulder and turned it as black as her own. We talked about how we each grew up. She wasn’t into recreational sex, but just conversation. The two of us with bare shoulders as she now rubbed some more of the coffee upon her own as well saying, “Look at this!” And our skin became as dark as each others. The sight of this causing me to impulsively kiss her shoulder. The action eliciting a response from her of, “Wait, whoa, whoa!” But I knew that she was becoming as entranced with me as I with her. She got up and walked away and there I sat with all those other people around looking at me with silent glee. All smiling and laughing among themselves because they know that I want her. And I trying nonchalantly trying to straighten out the rumpled covers on the bed. Though fully clothed, now pressed hard by the need to display some measure of foolish dignity. But they knew and I knew, that I wanted her to come back and have relations with her. Not just sexual, but as the love of my life.
Now back in the real world, awake, and watching the squawk box, a middle aged woman cries on TV, “Waaahhh, I want my donated eggs back!” “And she should get he way, because she, “CRIED!” A woman cries on TV and . . . “oohhh!” But in the modern world positions of grave responsibility demand cool rational judgement free of emotions! But if she, “CRIES“, then it . . . “oohhh!” . . . it means something! Oh crap! What kind of world is this? A very fucked up one!