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So useless. How to go about talking about someone who is so invisible they don't exist? No features to describe, his features just melt into the background of wherever he is like some human chameleon. Chain smoking cigarettes, possibly tearing his own holes in the ozone, who knows. He carries packs on him like some soldiers carry ammo clips. "No such thing as overpreperation," he says, and the words are like the smoke he blows out of him mouth. They aren't directed at anything in particular, they simply disperse into the air around him. "Let's find a place to get something," he says. The place he means is outside on the street and the something he means is more than likely drugs. I tell him, not interested this time, I'd much rather stay at home and stare at the ceiling for a few hours. He isn't satisfied with that remark but being invisible and spineless as he is, it wouldn't do to get all huffy about it so out he goes. Comes back later with dime of something and without words heads straight to the bathroom to investigate. I'm mildly curious, but only mildly, as I'm only ever mildly curious about anything. He plops down on the love seat across the room from me and I notice the poor kids suntan, and once again thank whoever that I am not white not light skinned like this poor bastard who burns like a vampire if you turn on a heat lamp too close to him. His girlfriend, whose name I will neglect to mention because I can't at this time remember it, comes over too, walks right in without so much as a courtesy knock. "What if I was naked?" I protest. "What would happen then?" "Trust me, no one want's to see you naked," says she, without looking at me. Looking at the something spread out across the table for de-seeding and de-stemming. It's an intricate process, so I'm told, and is the primary reason I could never even consider buying my own something. I have no patience for things like that. I like fast food, I like rented movies, I like CDs. I'm a modern man of convenience and instant gratification. If it takes five minutes, it takes too long for me. Time spent versus reward gained...that's the ultimate motto of my life. Don't waste my time with the work just fedex me right to the glorious payoff. So now this girl is here. There's a whole different atmosphere when there's a girl involved. Suddenly everything is under scrutiny. Personally I don't care one way or the other. Girls have never interested me enough to make overwhelming lifestyle changes, or even minuscule ones. But suddenly out come the snide little comments, he comments on the sink, the rug, haven't you heard of a vacuum?, why don't you ever fold anything...any softball he can lob at me to make himself look better in front of his so-called lady. So I tell him "If you don't like it, get out." Knowing full well the bastard won't go anywhere anytime soon, but it shuts him up anyway. Later on the subway the conversation dies a little more, and the tenuous bonds of our relationship fray proportionately. I try to remember how many times I've been on the subway, and just can't. It's one of those mind-boggling numbers, right up there with How many times have you turned a door knob. I'm sure there's someone out there that if you asked them, they could tell you exactly how many times they've ridden on a subway, how many flights of stairs they've climbed in their life, and so on and so forth. I've seen enough crazy shit to realize that. Hell, probably someone that lives in this very subway, some idiot savant who memorizes entire shakespeare plays but shits on the tracks and wipes himself with the front page of the Times. Now that's a funny image. |
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i forgot what i meant to say, so i said something else, but you ( telepath that you are ) asked, 'don't you mean....?' and i said 'oh yeah' and we were quiet and everything was grim fandango for a moment. then the moment broke and you left. and the earth, where your feet touched it, scorched and burned, and the sky where you looked at it shrunk and hid behind itself and everyone suffocated because the air that you breathed refused to be breathed by anyone else. and the earth, when you die, will stop spinning for it will have nothing of importance left to hold onto. |