World Trade Center during the holiday season, circa mid 70’s

Eugene Debs. 1918.

18 JULY 14 - Anushka! Anushka!

Peacefully reading twitter on a patio positioned in Houston’s once famously known homosexual neighborhood, unemployed and constantly shaking down my mental process for a chance of peace, I smoked a cigarette, longing for reality to shift itself inside out.

I heard a rustling in the trees across the street. I imagined a man falling out of one and just as soon as he stood, a conversation between us develops before he goes about his day. What was he doing in the tree? Why did I fail to ask this once we spoke? Such mysteries of casual non-reality I would welcome as my days bombard me with their hellish anonymity and uselessness.

I am in the midst of needing work so that I may pay for things the world demands. In order to rest my head and to purchase shoes, food, and literature, a way to pay the coffers of maliciously designed debt institutions, to pay back the government loan I purchased the computer I write with at present, I must sell myself on printed sheets of paper explaining the guaranteed worth of existence! 

The world is so big that I have to imagine myself larger than what I truly am! And what I truly am is lost to me, amen. 

Alas, I am nothing. Suited for delivering trays of food to people who can pump out cover letters and smiles to potential employers. A bottom dweller…scum sucking waif with dreams of rock and roll and the ambition of a child. I am the enemy of my nation’s ideals! I simply cannot convince you to hire me. How terribly Bukowski-esque! Yet, I can’t loaf from hotel to hotel, aimlessly arranging words that aren’t worth a penny per page, stuffed full of pancakes and wine! Oh but if I could…

A coward then, yes! A man reeling from the transparent thrashing of his abandoned faith. Surrounded by parishioners who sized me up before they held me in the lord’s embrace. A boy from a broken family and a liberal mother at the helm of his upbringing! Too far left for the comfort of my brothers and sisters in christ. After all I thought the unbelievers should wear, say, fuck, and believe what they want! The credulous, empire building and supernaturally transformed apostle Paul said the same but they don’t care. 

My body feels adrift on a wave. My mind is braced like an antelope having smelled the lion. My heart beats to the rhythm of defeat and I feel the spotlight of worthlessness burning into my skin, atop a stage with an audience of family and peers. 

I’m sweating, my loved ones. I am buckling under the weight of what you know I can be. I have yet to once again find the stride in life with which you learned to love me most.