the thing is, time evaporates. and this is compounded, unjustly, with the cumulative gathering of it's fleeting essence. so, it's probably best to keep your days completely full, or, just the opposite, floating on a hammock. the middle, you know, that 9-5, clock in clock out, the thing that the entire industrial age was built on. that's the fastest ticket onto the bullet train to older. here in the middle, grey haired the next.
whenever in doubt
times it by 2
whenever you're sure
times it by 3
because time is not yours to keep
after all, it doesn't really exist
anymore then
that diploma you're holding onto
Here it is, the first exclusive clip from a major motion picture event! ANIMALS presents YOUNG BUCK. In internet speak, #youngbuck
Available in just a few weeks, for your snacking pleasure. Produced by ANIMALS.
all you get for now.
the image of that pure black horse lingered for days
and Tanya couldn't do a damn thing about it
except, ponder that animals perfection
and the gaping whole between IT and her life
three days, out of a routine
and it seems like it will never work again
that blank screen
agonizing
blinking
white
a story-less story
a myth
a trope
loveless as a Bloody Valentine
the woman worked at a bar in little tokyo
and she loved her phone so much
and one day, on a cold and rare rainy night in Los Angeles, she made love through her phone
but the very next day, the phone broke
and it broke her heart
"love is fleeting" , she concluded
but I think she's a bit immature
he looked straight ahead, as far as his eyes could see in the middle of the warm summer night. this was where he spent his childhood. a park, in the middle of the quietest suburb on planet earth. the grass felt nice.
it was here that he tasted alcohol, and it was here that he first tried marijuana. It was here that he saw his best friend Arthur body slam Robbie the bully. it was here, that he and Arthur would discuss what they would do to girls, had they had the chance. and this certainly changed from year to year. drastically in fact.
it was at this location that he lay, sprawled out on the grass, looking up at the sky for countless hours, wondering if life would ever change. It was here that the legion of emotional experiences tickled his bored soul.
and now, if only he could crawl back into that tiny space, and feel those feelings once more, everything would be ok.
“you got some molly?"
“actually no, I don't. back in my day they called it ecstasy.”
“back in your day, you were young. now your old so shut da fuck up.”
“that’s not nice.”
“neither is your face.”
“so mature.”
“yeah.”
“i got coke though.”
“ok.”
the noise of the sprinkler was a comfort
white noise, white noise
drowning
drowsy
youth
just to see what is
i entered through the blinded back window
but to my surprise, in the remaining darkness
nothing but empty white space exists
why?
the full moon frightens me.
i remember that last terrifying night.
that one whispering night. the haunting.
your dead soul.
rummaging for the last morsel.
leaving me option-less.
leaving me hung.
the breath escaping.
the squirming.
that last gasp.
a ghost.
your ghost.
push start
ok
and then
but wait
hold on
we're moving too fast
can i start over
no
is there a pause button
no
ok
shit
the old man would pull me over and talk to me every time I saw him at the coffee shop. his subjects were often the same, little nuggets of wisdom we're all familiar with.
most of the time it was a nuisance. i would make smiley faces, half understanding anything said, as I kept wanting to get on with life, which is code word for work.
and most grating of all, this ritual kept me away from coffee. i mean, that's the main reason I came, and my cravings would erupt in quiet desperation. i would start resenting everything. why the hell do i do this to myself every damn time? why do i come here knowing this is going to happen with 100% certainty.
but recently, he hasn't been coming in. and life has gotten more uncomfortable without his greetings. and life is never 100%.
