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December 11, 2011

Mr. Here & Now

The trees are among us. We are people. It’s not “windswept” it’s: the wind is swept. Wind has nothing to do with how you feel. The Indians, both of them, were wrong about that. I’m not, but I feel old. After some years, you see yourself’s face in the mirror and say, “I’m old.”, even though you’re not. Thinking you’re old will only make you older. I know this by being young and feeling old. It all comes down to heaven or an angel or a God to worship. At some point, someone asks you to get on your knees and beg for something. You will do it even if nobody asks, eventually.

I don’t ask for much: a room and a typewriter, salty, savory food, wine and some time alone. You’d think it’s not too much to ask. But, God interferes with me again and we are left stuttering at the curb like whinos or pigeons, you and me – trying to figure out what we were trying to figure out.

My beautiful girlfriend and I fight during dinner, when we’re out to dinner.  I wave my arms and she cries and everyone looks at us. Then, we hold hands and chip away at our plates and order more wine.

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