Tuesday, September 17, 2013

10 Rhythms July 2012

1. Alcohol can be brutal. The new stitches on the bridge of his nose conspire with the humidity to wake him. His mouth is dry, headache is unbearable.He fills his bathtub with cold water, ghetto sounds alive outside his window are familiar, comforting. Old punk rock from his speakers-today his life changes.

2. She left Detroit and the perfect acoustics of her parents' marble bathroom for the dead fish Lake Erie atmosphere of Cleveland. No amount of Dos Equis, love from her dogs or cock can sustain her. She sits lonely on the platform; thinking of jumping in front of the oncoming westbound train.

3. You want to see sad? You want loneliness, pure emotional desolation? Go to an adult book store, grab a fistfull of tokens & head to the video arcade in the back. Any lingering hope for humanity will die.

4. FOCUS. I have said it before-its difficult to focus in jail. Fluorescent lights bounce off the white walls, voices atop voices turn to aural mush, the experience leaves you numb. During the day you're lucky to string together anything resembling a coherent thought. FOCUS.

5. He sits in the cheap cloth seat of his cheap Japanese car in the parking lot of the Cleveland Free Clinic. he volunteers his time at a runaway shelter, he studies Buddhism and is conscious of the environment. He is a good upper-class liberal, I'm not being sarcastic, his heart is clean. Years later he practices law, volunteering his time to HIV positive people. Atticus to the end. He'll eventually die of a preventable heart attack, leaving behind so many friends, his mother and daughter.

6. His cell looks much as it did 20 years ago. Possessions come and go but his cell is fundamentally untouched by time. This observation aside, something has changed. Some unnamable factor has made his cell unbearable. Tonight without saying a word, he will hang himself.

7. Colors dance for her. Through horrid parents, undependable friends, trouble and more trouble art flows from her. Every hue ever known, thick lines, thin lines...they belong to her. She creates visual soliloquy and NO ONE can take that from her.

8. Pittsburgh, ozone smell. Long bus ride and rain encourage them to sit close. She looks like a vampire...curly black hair & green eyes, knee high combat boots and fishnets. He is the street...tattoos, basketball shorts and a ballcap. Full of high test coffee and ambiance they ride. Echos of Pittsburgh their soundtrack.

9. There was a brief moment that your eyes made everything alright. The greasy smell of churros and thick marijuana smoke. Your eyes took me home. Aztec children dancing on the apocalypse of our culture. We flirt with martyrdom.

10. He wakes up...well, that's an understatement; he snaps awake from a forgotten dream. He's in the fluorescent hell holding tank at the police station and his life is about to change again.