The first drug I ever did was heroin.
The rapper sat across from me. He was on the phone. He motioned to me not to do it.
Fernie lit it.
He worked for Wells Fargo.
That was a nickname.
He was the same one
that carried me to the couch.
Passed out.
Also anorexic.
When I went down
my very small
tits
were exposed
they could not call for help
but they were ready
for
sex
and he carried me to the couch
that man
that lit the fire
he saved me
and I wonder
to this day
if he is alive.
A Little Break?
So, I was thinking. I have only two months of school life left. The exams are all approaching soon. And this result has quite an impact on deciding my future. So, maybe I should consider staying away from some things for a while-From Facebook to Youtube, and maybe Prose.
I mean, for almost a month, I was not able to finish a single post. And I don't think I really would be able to do that in the coming months too. So, maybe instead of attempting and failing in multitasking, again and again, I think I should focus on one task right now. And considering the current circumstances, the top priority should be learning, of course. So, this is almost like a short goodbye.
I mean, I would come back, of course. This place is now a part of my life. I am not leaving this place (At least not anytime soon. You see, life can be unpredictable ^-^). So, I might not be around here for a while. I might be busy devouring textbooks. So, I will miss you guys. But I will be back soon ^-^
PS: And the day I return, I am announcing my arrival by taking down this post, lol. It seems far too emotional for my type ^-^ So until someday halfway April, keep this place cheerful, won't ya ^-^
Long Hair Turning Gray
Larry McMurtry probably ought to be considered a national treasure. He’s written a hell of a canon of the American West, like almost a hundred books, and The American West at its most raw, is America at its most honest. My own father is not a man of fiction but he loves Lonesome Dove and holds it dear to his heart.
General Custer and Crazy Horse have been written about so many times it’s annoying, even asinine, commonplace and cliché; but for my money, McMurtry did it the best, he’s provided us with the end-all-be-all biography of each man.
And he wrote one of the finest Texan coming of age stories of all time--with a father who’s hard on those he loves because he loves them, a wildcard and free willing and night-city seeking step-son, and finally the youngest son, the story’s protagonist who deals with existential crisis of this life as often as he has to deal with material issues and hard drama between his father and older brother--in his debut play, “Horseman, Pass By.” I’m not a man who cries, nor a man who easily relates to much, but I remember reading that play in high school and I tried but could not help myself from my eyes swelling up with salt water. I felt that story, big time.
But this post is about one song written by McMurtry’s son. And it’s not a great song, and I can’t explain why I love it. And I’ve tried listening to more music by James McMurtry and just don’t dig it.
I think I like this particular song because I can relate to mediocrity. The song is less than spectacular, and James McMurtry’s career is also well less than stellar, and I believe this song captures that essence pretty damn perfectly. Its opening line I especially appreciate so much that it makes me smile and chuckle to myself every time I hear it, “Sick of this small town bull shit, I’m not staying in school.” Then later on, it’s simple but it’s pure and true: “Meanwhile I got a gram [of weed most likely, maybe coke] and a real good ride [first time buying a car most likely] / And don’t you know I hurt way down inside.” I feel that, big time. It’s not that good a song at all, but it so easily portrays a certain struggle that I relate to so well.
It’s written by a man who must live in the shadow of his acclaimed father. It’s a difficult realm to live in. The song, called, “Just Us Kids” enunciates that certain pain and heartache, the misery and rare good-time feeling of forgetting that one might have to live up to some idea, that one might just have fun for a minute, that one might be themselves and that it might be okay, that even God might understand and might even appreciate it.
https://youtu.be/PHMEmszc13o
our very own patron saint
he was a doctor
Goddammit, they were looking at
a doctor
He came into the casino in a suit,
the same suit every day and night
dark gray
shiny with grease around the
elbows and lower back
smelly
patched up in places
he kinda forgot what it was like to be
sober
and lately he kinda forgot what
it was like to win at the slot machines
he forgot how to perform surgery
how to diagnose a patient
forgot what the company of a woman felt like
forgot what love was
he was a machine that consumed cheap
but strong alcohol
Rubbing alcohol filtered through bread
That stuff was 70% alcohol
his liver knew it
"Ah, pleaseeee, for the love of God, don't
make me work with this
stuff again," he would scream while
playing at the slot machine
and the bouncer would walk up to him
and say, "Hey, hey, doc. Everything all right, man?"
"Oh, sorry. That was my liver shouting
through my mouth. He's a pussy."
They say companies that deliver food
get very suspicious when their
regular customers,
the people who order every day,
stop ordering all of a sudden
They even check on them
Well, we don't deliver food
but we got really concerned when
our favorite doctor stopped
showing up
all of a sudden
Maybe our managers would've checked
up on him but
there was no phone to call
and no door to knock on
Still, one of our boys went to the nearby
park and asked the homeless men around
for our favorite doctor
and the man handed him a
newspaper
Shit,
it wasn't even on the front page
there was some political shit on the
front page
Nobody gave a damn about that article
The real thing was a few pages
after, not even colored
HOMELESS MAN DIES AFTER TRYING TO
PERFORM SURGERY ON HIMSELF
IN PUBLIC RESTROOM
That was a doctor with guts
Guts pouring out of him
straight into the sink
and another cluster found in the toilet
We framed the article and pasted
it on a board in the back room
of the casino
our very own patron saint
She should've ran
From that monster of a man
Before they grew
Before they knew
She did not
Her happiness would soon rot
The love was a curse
Written in the stars of this universe
Once she ran with two infants in her hand
But somehow returned to this miserable land
He promised to change
Yet continued his monstrous rage
His shadow was feared
When seen under the door everyone reared
The roars at night were loud
Even the horrifying one's that made no sound
Years went by
And all three would cry
When the last was here
Even she would fear
It was too late to run
Her options were none
The oldest had dreams
One could have foreseen
The one in between had changed
From being caged
The infant needed care
In this world that was unfair
She stayed in the hell of a home
Took the torture as her own
All his toxic would poison her
All four were sinking further
The mother should have ran
Beforehand, out of that land
From that monster
Who was no longer a man
-A story stuck on pause
Doux Chuchotements
Fingers begin to slowly move around the left side of her face—
She twitches, eyes squeezed tightly in irritation-
‘Ah!’ She exclaims. Then smiles as she hears the voice in a hushed tone.
A voice that reminds her of the taste of honey, a golden syrup like sound. Huh, this voice she’s heard before.
She gradually makes her way out of bed.
Again, the voice speaks in a hushed tone. She can not stop herself from taking hold of a blade.
The blade is in one hand which nearly reaches her chest. Another voice cries out like an explosion, telling her to stop what she’s about to do.
Her hands tremble. She lets the blade drop to the floor with a clang.
Tears stream down her face. It’s not easy for her to shut out the voices. She would have to try to do so, & harder next time.
02/09/2020
Wednesday (All Rights Reserved)
Pinocchio
I'll wager that you think you know
the tale of young Pinocchio,
a mar'ionette whose nose sprouts growth-
specifically when lies are told.
He's boist'rous, disobedient
and finds the cricket tedious;
a hammer flies- death hideous-
and conscience becomes vitreous.
The Land of Toys and idleness
draw him and his friend, Candlewick;
indulgence leads to ears that prick,
some hees and haws, and donkey kicks.
Escaping peril, he must flee;
the puppet swims straight out to sea,
where he becomes a whale's small meal-
and then both dad and son break free.
I've lied but once- the rest is truth.
So, now decide; it's up to you.
Which stanza does your youth dispute?
Is it two, or three, or four you choose?