by DirtyEssene

“So do you got any ideas about the report next week?”

The trance was broken, with poor word selection no less. As those thoughts echoed in the mind, my mouth, still performing basic social functions for some odd reason, responded in a negative colloquialism. Tony was a cool guy I guess, good in the common sense of the word, the kind of kid you’d be proud to have as your son.

“Oh, well I started it last week, after the meeting ya know, it kinda seemed to write itself.”

He tried to sell it with a chuckle, I wasn’t in the mood to purchase pleasantries. Not knowing what to respond with, I let out an unenthusiastic laugh to acknowledge that his words didn’t fall on deaf ears. Unwilling and unable to converse substantially to this jolly fellow I feigned an exaggerated oriental bow. I’m sure they all noticed the play. Ah, screw it all.

How wrong is it to wish the bus stop became the chariot sung about all those years ago by their ancestors, the unwillingly enslaved? Silly thought, shut up. You love your ribs too much to even hijack a runaway car, heroes exist on the internet. Don’t you see how complicated those branches are, how entwined and grandiose their pattern, yet still performing such a simple and noble duty. Shut up, noble is applied, not inherent. Let your stress leave with your breath. Count your blessings. You have a warm home, a stream of food, and other human beings like you. I wonder if my book came in yet? That shit is damn cool, I bet you could teach a lot of people those things. Just like the nunchaku and chaos magick and the Illuminatus trilogy? No, this is different. This one will give me real skills. Ones that will protect me the day this all falls away… So you can what, get a warm house and a stream of food?

Fifteen seconds had passed, and the bus still had not started to move. I found the least gummy chair. Five minutes later the busdriver returned, hopefully he replaced the lost fluids with a quart of whiskey. Ha ha ha fuckers, now you will be late for your sexy and city show, your mikrowavay fuud! Look, look at the nothing that seems to draw your empty eyes, yeah, pretend you didn’t see me staring at you, we both know there is nothing outside the window of interest.

Where has the fire been? Once in a while I used to see it, brimming behind the eyes of a person or two. The zeal, the dream, the power? The kind of glare that would look past your form and into your essence and both would realize that the dance had begun. The very thing that sharpened my philosophy, deepened my appreciation of the world, the one and only thing that would allow ecstatic rapture: real communication. The fire was given to me to behold by men and women of great stature - to I, one of the many. Shall I pass it? Perhaps it doesn’t matter if they can hold it or not. See here, she has a cute face and a respectable body. Her eyes are cold, she is a virgin to the blaze. If I pass it what then? Will she crumble from the poison or will she embrace and feed me, ourselves? Either way I will be sustained.

The drudgery, the sheer intolerable drudgery.

“Oh so you live where?”

Who gives a shit where I live honestly? My name is the least important thing about me or anybody for that matter. Fuck this, friendly card activate.

“I love U2 also, so cool and responsible, and their music is pretty deep.” “Oh, I never thought I’d meet somebody who liked XYZ too!” “I guess I’d consider myself a liberal republican.”

“Bob”, will this bus never stop? Trail it off, make your response times slower and slower, the thing will die naturally. “Nice meeting you.” Another chuckle. Why do people think that will improve a substance free and impersonal comment? It’s probably something I activate, hilarious. Ha ha, I am messing with myself! Go go gadget solipsism!

Ah, everything is right where I left it. What the hell am I going to do until sleep?