04/20/02

Most of the time, when I am looking at this old shit, I can at least remember what I was going through at the time of the writing if not specifically why I was writing what I was writing. These two pieces I cannot. Again, I blame super doobies.

It is funny that I would and still do write about topics that I have no knowledge of whatsoever. I had never lost and regained a love at the time of writing “Song for a Broadway Show” and I, of course had never been married at age 21.

There are some points of concrete references and thinking in this jive. I was doing a lot of walking around Edgewater Park at that time and had seen all of the dead fish and feminine hygiene products washed up on the beach after the winter thaw and before anybody cleaned up the beach for the summer season. Disgusting. I was a roommate with Doug of Quazimodo, worked for a retired judge (who had a very lovely wife I must add) watched “Seinfeld” and listened to the Pagans. But, besides those references, what I was writing in this stuff I have no idea.

Song for a Broadway Show

I do not feel so good
I feel bad
When I start to think
About the times that we had
Last spring
Driving around all over God’s green earth
It was a first for me
To be so free and in love

I begin to cry
The tears flow
When I think of the reason
Why you had to go
Last spring
Screaming my head off about the state of affairs
Now, at last, I see
I was so free and in love

Now you’ve returned
And I rejoice
Singing so loud
I nearly lost my voice
This spring
Walking with you through dead fish and tampons
With you here with me
I am finally free and in love

(1993)

Chuck burst into the living room, yet again – even though Lloyd told Chuck about a million times a day how much that aggravated him – screaming. Lloyd had nerves that were nearly shred to bits after living with his wife for two years. She was a jumpy screamer too. Lloyd thought that he would be able to get used to he explosive personality or she would just eventually calm her shit down over time but neither happened. It was a messy divorce and Carla, his wife, nearly drove Lloyd personally to the insane asylum.
Fortunately for Lloyd, the Honorable Jack Cross who presided over the proceedings had his own firecracker for a wife and was somewhat sympathetic to poor Lloyd. Judge sat there passively and listened to Carla’s mouthpiece attorney foam. Carla’s counsel berated Lloyd on the stand with the same passion and intensity that a coach berates an under performing ball player at practice. Admittedly, Lloyd was worthless but she did not need to remind him of that so vehemently in the open courtroom.
It verdict was OK. The Judge let Lloyd keep his comic books, records and sci-fi videotapes even though Carla asked that they be destroyed for Lloyd’s own good. Carla kept the adulthood or the house, the car and all of the appliances.
Lloyd had to find a new place to live. Crashing with his parents again would not cut it. Not now. No way.
Lloyd met Chuck at a record convention and moved into his house after they hit it off immediately with a killer discussions of the merits of the Bee Gees work post “Saturday Night Fever”. Chuck’s knowledge of pop culture in general and records in particular was one of the few upsides of the of the roommate situation. Lloyd was ready to jump out of his skin from Chuck’s many frequent outbursts. That was the giant down side.
“Guess what?” Chucked screamed at the top of his capable of a sonic boom voice while jumping through the living room door.
Lloyd took a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow his house down to a normal rate before attempting to answer.

(1993)


posted by Thea at 9:34 PM

04/18/02

A portrait of the artist (yes. that is artist.) as a miserable young fucker. I was never happy. I will never be happy. When I was 21, it was a very bad year. The Song Remains the Same.

On the Bus

When people are hurrying
Down Superior
To catch the bus
Passengers already on the bus
Are yelling at the bus driver
Wait
One more
I am screaming on the inside
Go bus driver
Drive bus driver
Hurry up bus driver
Take off bus driver
I silently want to see somebody stranded

(1993)


Who is my audience? Who is like me? Who would like to yell, “Die, Fucker!” to one hundred percent of the world as I know it. Who does not give a shit about the environment? Who does not give a shit a about racial harmony? Who does not give a shit about a single social cause? Who identifies with no one? Who doesn’t care about anything but their own personal comfort and even that is not that important? I don’t. I don’t care. Who is a group of my people? Maybe I do care about something but saying any slogan of the popular left makes me want to puke. God damn it all. I want to expose the bullshit. I want to take the do gooder by the throat and beat him to within an inch of his life. Die do gooder. I have no humanity and want none. I want to bust everybody’s balls like a smart ass kid. I want to make every single person that I encounter feel like a total fucking idiot for just one minute of their self obsessed life. I want them to see that they are fucked. I want them all to say it in unison. I hate any identifiable group. I hate any manufactured demographic grouping.

(1993)

The best thing about losing was the kick ass reaction that I had to defeat. I have finally felt blind rage. My mind was burning and my eyes went fuzzy. Everything was humming and my breathing was intensely labored. He tried to talk to me and I just muttered something and walked away. The only part of the rest of my time there that I remember is my own emotion. I went completely blank and just raged. It felt great. I would have torn somebody’s head off if I was given the opportunity by God.

There was only one other time in my life where I experienced such an intense feeling of anger for such a long time. It happened in eighth grade. I unconsciously rode my bike for over a mile. I have no idea of anything that happened until I caught myself smashing the bike with a baseball bat. That was probably the angriest I have ever been until this defeat. I have been angry with women before – maybe as angry – but it really doesn’t count because it had to do with women and not the regular parts of life.

I chewed my fingers to the nub that night. I was getting nervous that the anger was going to take over and make me snap. But all the anger did was clean my insides with blackness.

(1993)

I am on the bus. The bus driver just gave me some hassle because I did not have the extra 25 cents that I needed since the RTA just raised the price of the bus ride. Attitude. When people can’t show a little humanity for something as trivial as me lacking a quarter, the world is screwed. Of course, I never show any humanity to anyone but that falls into the double standard theory of life that I hold so close to my heart. The man hassling me and me forgetting my sunglasses put me in a foul mood.

A black lady ended up giving me a quarter. She was dressed in hospital clothes. She was very pretty.

(1993)



posted by Thea at 11:02 PM