Everyone thinks it’s interesting to talk about backgrounds
It draws attention to looks
Impressive not so
In this conversation there is
Always the matter of time
So it’s only a matter of time
Until you’re always aware of your impending death
You don’t want to think about that!
That’s why you binge drink and dance at night?
Letting go of your inhibitions is important
But how about those booze blues?
And forgotten conversations?
I only make bad decisions
Your friend recently said to you
You made your bed. Now you have to
think in it.
Anecdote for crying:
Put your head in a paper bag
Put your glasses on!
You look different with your glasses on.
Yeah. Not bad just … different.
You put a paper bag over your head
You cut holes in it
You think better
You turn it around
There are eyes in the back of your head
When you take the bag off there’s a woman
With half an arm
It wiggles like the end is a hand
You wonder if it’s hard for her to pee
She’s figured that out by now
You are blessed
You have a body that works
The only reason it’s not working great!
Your brain is like a trap door that’s stuck open
People and shit keep falling through it
Like this guy over here talking about Visa’s
Just get married! some girl suggests
No! No! he responds. That’s not the solution.
He’s right for him
Everyone has ancestors and opinions about Visa’s
Someone outside of the bar gives you a cigarette
Parliament or Marlboro Light?
I don’t care.
You look like that girl. That girl …
Frommmmm … who’s the girl everyone always tells you you look like?
Everyone has ancestors who look like movie stars or aliens
You work the door at the hotel bar
Everytime you get up someone takes your seat
Yesterday, someone was readings your book
She said, I’m just trying to look smarter than I am
You didn’t like that
Today it is a pre-teen
You ask her if she is taking your job
She looks at you
You like that
Innocence ends when one is stripped of the delusion that one likes oneself
Children are choreographing modern dances in the hotel lobby
Their bodies move like homemade linguini
Draped over a string
Clipped on a clothesline across the kitchen
Their noodle bodies bend
When one ends
Innocence becomes ones delusion of oneself
Do you take dance classes? you ask one of the girls dancing
Yes, she responds
Innocence is the hallucination that one is a great dancer
What kind? you ask
She flips her head
Innocence ends when variation ceases
She flips her head