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Random · Prose
A Journal where how you live Is the Art
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Sailors under stars between Venus and Mars, we’ve got the time of your life. We’re insignificant caged in a planet; I met my god on a dating site. Potential coddled by who feels hollow, it’s a handicap to see it. Sacrifice our lives to the climb; we can’t keep it, the top is in our spirit. We’re spending our questions on simple notions, just preach what’s in my reach. Belief always makes money for somebody; every ocean needs a beach. “As seen on TV” happiness within me, primetime atrophy We leveled needs to compete, tune in next week, the News after “me”. Getting up is a fight so we drag out the night, careful of the dreaming. Escape with numb the answer will come, it can’t be disappointing. Farmers without answers to a drought, reign in portioning Planting seeds ignoring weeds, mourning growing in morning glory. Personal punishment for penance we fight for confidence, don’t be your hero’s villain We carry the burden of how we’re hurting, ignore the heavy disposition Strangle the noise in the voids, real change in paint Bigger picture lacking color, we stay in the frame and stay the same. |
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These are not complete, and sometimes they don't feel like rhyming.
I've also been trying to write a song for months now, some attempts are present.
I’m awakening to the lonely nakedness that lengthens each sidewalk we saunter. It is a slow churn that barrels within the parts of me that know no one else. It is something I can never word, thus never heard, and thus never understood, everyone can understand. I can wallow in self-pity that everyone can relate to.
I’m amazing, I have seen the things I can do; and I whine about doing it. Love is an action, but everyone else is my excuse. I will always be overrated and underappreciated. There are feelings that one can not help but feel, a lonely nakedness that lengthens each sidewalk we saunter. There are ideas that ring, the light bulb already dieing; and there are mistakes that live on through our refusal to accept them. These are thoughts that invent themselves out of the differences within us. Opposition to the feelings of the man who has proven to himself that he cannot change. Identity loses accuracy with every word it acquires to him. He is all of the above yet unable to answer any of the questions. He whispers to me while I read and disappears when I ask his name. This man understands the inspiration following futility, inspiring no one. He lives in my head and weighs down my body. He limps in circles, churning this lonely nakedness that lengthens every sidewalk we saunter. He knows what I could have done, but he only tells me what I don’t have. Remorse is a universal truth that is experienced alone. It feels like a mission when it is really an escape, a marathon with a metaphor finish; and the man of my head is running laps. I decide I have to love me before I can love anyone else, never knowing myself, my love lands on those who do what I want. It is something I word so I feel better, because I have ways I want to feel, I have plans as to how I can achieve the feelings I want to feel, they torture me with imagination and cripple my authenticity. Who can detach my enemy from myself? I am a composite unit. I am a singular thought that I only remember if I write it down. I am a child of the world, so the world can teach me, so it can nurture me and tell me when I’m wrong; my parents are a composite world. Yet this silly god-forsaken world is listening, and I can’t hear anything. The man is churning his circles; the only silence I can hear. We’re the orphans of time and survival, withering away for a blanket that covers the lonely nakedness that lengthens each sidewalk we saunter. I am the man, I am my parents, I am my child, and the world, an aspiration. I am a composite unit. We only realize we are a perception when we can’t keep track of our own. I told me so, I raised me that way, but I can’t answer questions I can’t ask myself. Where am I going to find what I don’t have? It is an isolated vulnerability that makes every journey longer, and every shortcut necessary, and every excuse persuasive. My body is a wave that crashes against her. The perk in my sternum brings her closer. She feeds the fire that pulls my hair. We fit like disaster. She floods my head, gasping for life. I can only look away, I only hear a cry. The chilling wind pushes our faces together We fit like disaster The rage of the sky hidden behind the shadowed light The trees all shake in the wake of goodbye We fit like disaster, Both the victim and the rescue effort. I see her divinity and feel the demons burn inside me
Cruising through the fretless fodder We’ll make the most of a little bliss We can spread it across the world Or at least in a place like this Turn down the loud speaker The rap can’t tell us how to dance But if you come a little nearer We’ll sway around the chance We’re all living in the hollow that we misuse It swallows and sorrows and softens the issues There’s a march in the changes we are choosing Broken souls breaking hearts of the moving What would it hurt if they were wrong? We’re not hurting anyone We have the answers, we’ll save the downers Jump out of the skin you are crammed into What we fear and hold near is left behind What you know you knew just a rhythm we go through They throw up in the bathroom, we feel fine It’s not that we don’t do what they tell you We know the world as they say And while they’re busy being cool They forget they’re world is turning away Love is a battle churning your head Surrender the weapons you wield We’re not defending our dreams instead We harvest them from the field
Fake it frantic, just to get them off your back Crush yourself before they do No one’s as sorry as you Courses set but I’m derailing Pull over and check the engine Maybe I’m missing something I can’t already be somebody I can’t remember that thing I read But I can remember what you said All I am is dripping through ceilings Melting under the maniacal burning Chain smoking in the garden Blowing out the cloud I used to carry I’m trying to calm the furry But all my shields are buried Under the good advice I’m postponing But gives me something worth saying I think I’ll be going Cause I can’t think of anything funny
Picture perfect in my mind The plans painted over time Unravel while I try Just one more line Posing as a puppet I’ll blame the hand Since being certain is pretend Not like they don’t have an itching I just scratch a different way It always balances out meaning I’ll jump to land on in between Don’t take this away from me Since I don’t want anything All I need is room to breathe We can just let it be No need to stir the sea Living a lie makes a truth about everything Like seeing what you mean Like seeing what you need Like seeing me unleashed Don’t try to find me I’m still locked in the knees You may be more realistic But we’re the ones enjoying it Swallow anxiety with a pill But if the glass is broken, the water’s spilled You tell us where our freedom’s from And be the folks who get shit done We’ll be singing a song Since it was free all along You have to hurt to gain Every blessing with a weight of pain Cause the only lessons are scars And we’re tearing each other apart Remind them what’s wrong with me Emotional, idealistic, and naive Scoffing at supposed obligation My side’s the lazy revolution
Black paint heavy on my face Suffocates my eyes and takes the place Of a boy who laughed at the night Jagged rock replaced my needs Scraping at the bended knees Of the boy who prayed to be right Screaming, bleeding, with a stranger All that was needed was a whisper In the ear of a boy who’s crying Running around the asphalt treadmill To defend his place to stand still For a boy who’s barely breathing Drowning deeply into temptation Through fornication of the nation For a boy who stopped believing Sharpened heat where a thumping beat Used to keep time and a few pleas Of a boy who kept needing Feelings can’t heal Skin like a peel Festering still is that boy that I killed.
Current Music: |
Hahahaha, so many...M83 | |
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Ted is a conference of brilliant minds from many different mediums to discuss the difficult problems we face today; religion, global community, the environment, and especially new ideas on how to solve these problems that are presented at this conference. From Google to Al Gore to Saturday Night Live has-beens, they come to this conference and I saw the second half of the a documentary about it. In 2005 Bono was granted the Ted award, which includes one “wish” for the Ted conference to strive for – a real chance to change the world. Bono wished for one American organization with one million activists for AIDS in Africa. In my personal opinion, we haven’t been able to forget AIDS in Africa since. Hearing these presentations on mortal innovation swelled my mind; I bob in the feeling of the human race as the sea instead of the storm. In that span of thirty minutes I heard a woman discussing a waste area that had overlapped a river. Ever since her dog sniffed out the river through a landfill near Bronx, this woman has been fighting for a water preservation park to restore the river in an area low on healthy water. Towards the end of her speech she started tapping into a more personal tone, an itch of urgency grew in her throat, and she looked out into the audience of brilliant minds and said “Don’t waste me.” She was the idea; her life was decidedly attached to accomplishing this goal. And what surprises me about that is how I had never heard such a term or that kind of certainty of purpose except maybe from prestigious artists in late night interviews. At first I thought “We should all be so lucky.” But since some other brilliant-whatever discussed resourcefulness being the only resource necessary to get things done, my thought quickly became “We should all be so.” I don’t know anybody who would say to my face “Don’t waste me.” I have no problem attempting to be that person and anything less from anyone else will be a disappointment. We shouldn’t waste anybody, but some of us waste ourselves with uncertainty of purpose. Where we find certainty can only come from a belief that can surpass given circumstances. Some might call this faith, conviction, pride, but I think it is simply a certainty of purpose. “I know what I’m going to do and I’m going to do it” – it sounds aggressive but change doesn’t happen without it. So the question becomes “How do we answer the question of knowing what we want to do?” Obviously, it will be different for every person. We wasted Sadam Hussein as a leader of a country; he should have been an entrepreneur. We didn’t waste Al Gore by not electing him to the presidency. We must use our talents the best way we know how, talent comes from who we are, and who we are is based on what we believe. We need to stop appeasing our “Creator” with tradition and start taking advantage of what He gave us. Let’s stop wasting hope and innovation - we’ve tried and failed, but we can fix and succeed. Stop wasting the environment, our differences, our children, and our history. If we stop putting effort into obstacles we can put effort into solutions and we can urgently say “Don’t waste me.” At that point we can adapt, change, push forward, and compromise for we would not be doubters of our ideas but rather believers in humanity. It is not a stubborn battle-cry, rather a self-affirming request. “Don’t waste me” is the answer to the other side of a gun. “Don’t waste me” is how I expect to stop abortion. “We” need the world and the world needs “you”; why is it our neighbors have become our common enemy? Why are our interests more important than the rest of the world? It’s time to let everybody in on it. Well, what of Dictators? What of Terrorism? Surely they have certainty of purpose, and their personal ambitions are of equal importance as mine. Well, terrorism wastes quite a few things. America went from the first democratic global power to a scarred bomb factory used to police the world. Dictators waste those who would follow them freely. Assholes waste those who would listen. And they waste themselves by putting forth their efforts into building brick walls that waste the other side. We can’t get what we want valuing ourselves with beliefs that separate us; because it is a favor we all ask the rest of the world: Don’t waste me. And the entire world asks the same of me. Terrorism has no surprise when we appreciate the choice made every minute not to terrorize. Currently America has legislation that houses and protects American terrorists of Iraq – but we don’t have to do anything about it because they’ve been inactive or joined the military. It’s not wrong to bomb a country in the name of defense, but that is not in our best interests. Human violence is violence against each other. Anyone who truly asks to die has already done so, and they make it as meaningful as possible; sacrificing life for their country or for the lack of hope. Gandhi’s hunger strike stopped a civil war. However, I cannot justify people who would die to kill others but I imagine they felt they were in a desperate situation, I also try to reach beyond my own restrictions in desperate situations; it is not surprising in the world as it is that there are those who would sacrifice their lives for what they believe. Personally, I don’t think any belief is worth sacrificing my life by choice; I need the world and the world needs me, I believe in wasting neither. My ideals come from my beliefs and I don’t lose hope for them nor do I expect them to become reality, they are personal which is what makes them correct – correct for my attempts to preserve myself and the world that preserves me. We should all be so, why not believe in something for everybody? I feel like most people tell me to believe in things that protect me from others, but who were they talking about other than the people protecting themselves from most people. Perhaps we should embrace the fact that we don’t know those we are against. We feel certainty in common purpose and there is a common purpose to be had these days: The environment, human rights, disease, disaster. These global problems are a reason to come together and this could create an un-imposing global community – not a coalition that could kill a president but an effort that could save the world. Who decided this was impossible? That is not impossible but I have no control over the world, only we can control what the world does doing as much as we can. It is not impossible but we will feel ineffectual, we will feel as insignificant as the one person who can hear our thoughts. Letting our feelings get in the way will probably lead to the feeling of regret, letting our feelings challenge and strengthen our beliefs can keep our uncertainty from wasting us. If we feel part of the any community, global or personal, our feelings will encourage us to solve problems together. Let’s stop pretending we aren’t part of the global community and stop wasting our part of it with the certainty of our purpose. |
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I just saw Barack Obama's speech in Iowa after winning the Democratic caucus. That is what America believes in. We've spent eight well known years with a questionable president, eight years learning what happens when America partisan-ly coasts through elections, two terms discussing dissapointments that come with 24 hours of media and discussions lost on answers to our biggest questions. Parts of the world turned against us and Americans themselves asked how much power an Army could weild. My personal disillusionment left me asking 'Who are we? What can the world trust America to do?' Then 100,000 more people showed up to a flippin' caucus, an acceptional increase compared to the then impressive 20,000 improvement or so that showed up four years ago. Not only are people identifying importance, 100,000 decided this year to do something for it.
Obviously the race isn't over, but certain ideas have been vindicated on the public stage of official polls. Definitly, America is looking for something genuine. The Christians and Oprah agree, it doesn't matter if you are a good politician if we don't value you as a person. Huckabee (outspent in Iowa by Romney 15 to 1) and Obama (a fresh-faced nobody) were underdogs when nominees were announced, and it's been a close race ever since. It's still close, but both Huckabee and Obama have gained their popularity by changing minds; they didn't pander to the crowd and they didn't give in to the game. Not a lot of talk this year about the banter between candidates, it's been about what the candidates have to say at the job interview. It's not a coranation contest since Gulioni and Clinton were household names in the beginning, and it's not a one-issue race as Edwards and McCain have paddled with Middle-class and The War. Huckabee and Obama discuss every issue and their answers stay consistent with what they say about other issues. I've been watching C-Span and Charlie Rose a lot lately, and what I like about these two is I can trust them to consider an entire country in their decision making. Their answers are simple and gimick-less, no easy solution is ever promised, they openly accept that people 'may not like it'; in interviews when they are asked more questions they give more answers.
It's a cliche in sports: "We're just taking it one game at a time" and it's true every time they say it, but the best players discuss what they're proud of and what they would like to change, what road is ahead and the work they've done to get down the road - they liken something none of us do (Making millions of dollars to play a sport) to something most of us would have done (Give our all to win the game). "Believe in our team and face the challenges together" is not a message lost in the speeches of Obama, Huckabee, or Tom Brady. After winning three superbowls in five years and an undefeated season this year - if Tom Brady was running for quarterback of America's team I'd elect him to tenure. But enough with sports, because America is more than football. America is more than afraid as well, because we are obviously looking for a candidate we can trust so we can have a president we can follow. I've wanted a president I can trust since my president called my ideals "Cut & Run." It felt good tonight to see I'm not alone. I'm just fine with America's choice if it turns out to be Huckabee, I can see how my America would elect him; but Obama would be my personal preference.
Independants and young people showed up in record numbers in Iowa today, it's been close enough the past eight years that they see an opening to make a difference. And what some would call a "surprise" and what others would call a "relief", Obama won the democratic side of Iowa. I've been a fan of Obama since I saw him at the Democratic convention in 04', back when I liked the idea of Hilary being the first woman president while Kerry was losing a race I thought not possible to lose. Obama gave a speech back in 04 that still shapes my ideals of politics today: Building bridges, listening to our opponents, standing for the ideals we started with. Then a friend let me borrow his book, I read half of it, burrowed into it, and then my slow reading pace made me give it back. I read that book questioning why he couldn't be president. He has all odds against him, he's short on experience, his resume looks unimpressive with Illinois as the highlight of that short experience, and a lot of his answers come from the admission that the government isn't doing it's job. Who could possibly win who refuses to play the game? Is he a realistic possibility or am I just hopeful? Well, over a year later my hopes flow in a new direction.
I'd given up on the America that agreed with me. I could only find it on Comedy Central and Public television, and those channels were lucky if they made you laugh or if any one was watching. America didn't seem like a place of cooperation and peace, a place I had been looking for but only Ghandi was talking about. All the America I saw was guns, capitalism, and stubborness. I found our part of the world to be a lesson in self-indulgence and easy answers, giving terrorists something to rally against. We were founded by well-read revolutionaries, and now run by sales and tax-deductions. My hope lied with the atrists and clowns, asking tough questions in a way that makes you laugh at big answers. I mean, what can anybody do against this "System"?
Then I saw Obama win this little bit. I didn't see it when I saw the numbers, I saw it in his acceptance. He didn't thank the people for helping his campaign, he applauded the people for "standing up for change just to make everybody else's life just a little bit better" as he put it. It's true, he can't take over the whole system, he just make people's lives a little bit better. I want him to liberate America from the depths of status quo, but he can only do so much. He is more right than me on what he should do with this job, I tend to learn when he speaks, and it is fantastic. I think people like that: Change as an oppurtunity, obstacles as a challenge; Obama is making an appeal to the American people and they are genuinly responding.
Oversaturated with conflicting information, manipulated, disenchanted, and burdened by consequences - the American people are stepping up. Aristotle thought Democracy couldn't work because people had to participate and today Iowa shattered participation records. No longer a popularity contest, the American people are searching for a candidate they can trust.
I trust Obama like I trust Tom Brady, I don't understand what it is they do but they play to win whatever the score may be. Brady is the closest thing to Montana I've ever seen, and Obama's the closest thing to Ghandi I've ever seen. Obama winning tonight gives me inspiration towards the America I'd like to see: hopeful. Our intentions are good, we only lack the light to show the way; tonight I saw a light. Now I know that my country can see it too. I can see the America I want in the America I see; an America that can change the world for the better.
Which reminds me, I need to register to vote. |
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I'm reading C.S. Lewis' "A Grief observed." It is a deeply personal journal kept by Lewis after his wife/soulmate dies. I'm only in the frst half of the book, looming before the "rebirth" aspects of the second half (I think). I corrallated it with a recent problem I have with being open and honest communication. Lewis' writing feels like the other extreme I'm aiming to compromise with, the happy-medium opposite extreme. Well, opening up sounds a lot more frank than I had thought.
I have now had three conversations with close family, a close friend, and a "psyche guru" all about how I do best in interconnections if I just "give it up." The questions I ask, the self-disclosure I defend, and the pattern excuses have all led to advice of "Don't think about it too much", "It feels like it's all in your head", and "Thinking of it as hard will only make it harder." These are the advice I had no argument with and conclusions of conversation. Well, I still don't have anything to respond with. It's cliche to describe, but now I am observing my own observance. I'm caught up in staying the same so I can see the mistakes.
What is troubling me is that I'm making sure to make my mistakes to observe their poor results. I'm listening to the advice by watching it myself; staying the the same to take notes. And after some time I still don't have anything to say, which smells like defeat. I can't agree or disagree.
Three or four years ago each of these conversations would feel "life changing." Years ago enlightening conversations meant a one-step-reform plan.
Recently, impressions have taken longer to set; my choices are harder to change. This sounds like a good thing, from what I can gather, to the "general public" in my circle. This sounds like growing up; I'm getting ready to accomplish something.
I have to assume that their right, because I have limited information either way I go. I can't do my best with life by myself, other people contirbute to everyone. Besides, this seems like a "Keep going" type of conclusion. I feel encouraged; I feel surrender. A slightly religious experience; I'm hearing to focus on what I believe instead of what I'm doing.
Yet I find myself questioning, I've observed. Recently, I've been hearing myself questioning the other person instead of listening; making sure I find the other person credible. Double-checking has become an excuse to pass things over.
That is something I should "let go" of. But who wants to let go of that? Who could want to dismiss how they keep up with what everyone else seems to do? I double-check to see where I'm going wrong as compared to the people who seem pretty happy. I wonder what I lack and guesstimate fillers from observation. I can't do that myself because my observation is limited. So I let other people help keep me up with everybody else. Something hasn't reconciled, I'm disheartened at how temporary satisfaction feels these days. If dissapointment is a lack of appreciation, then I have to let go of what's keeping me dissatisfied. I have to stop confirming as opposed to conversing.
The image of unconstrained conversation feels unfocused to me, my constraint is my focus. To let go of my focus leads to a harsh scatterred tone. A different paragraph between each sentance. Maybe I sped up new conclusions to keep ahead of the advice. Maybe I use what I'm doing wrong to defend my weaknesses.
And when I let that go, all I have is a desire for more input. When you take away my defenses of who I am, I start wondering who "you" are.
I think that's a good thing. It's definitly hard to argue with, I don't have anyway of responding. But I think that's because it's a new thought, I haven't considerred that before. Strangely, my doubt seems to come from age. Even encouragement is doubted, I've learned the hard way that bad results come from people telling me what they thought I wanted to hear.
But suddenly, double-checking makes me feel like a sour grape. I could have sworn I was less serious than this, Well, the humor can be a defense so it too can stall letting things go. But humor keeps me this honest; it protects me from the doubts of convicted communication, humor doesn't work without it.
Then humor is a strength, it keeps me strong. Well, "Greatest stength...greatest weakness" blah blah. Well, it is pretty comical listening to humor discrediting humor. No wonder synicism seems to drive comedy these days. Turning comedy on itself fold it into narcisistic self-consciencness; I'm making fun of myself for making fun of myself. Thus, I am observing my observance. So I should let that go too.
This is where I'm honestly confused: I've let go of my strength and my defenses now. Am I finally Ghandi? I hate this, it feels immature and un-prepared, but does this finally give me enlightenment? Am I capable of self-government yet?
I'm sure I'm the only one who could know, but getting older has felt like trying to collect a library with a local bookstore. I'm geting to the point of accepting questions, I'm almost positive that's a good thing. But a former me feels short-changed; I promised myself years ago not to fall into the trap of satisfaction.
Which made it my choice, which makes it the choice I want to change. I guess that was the good advice I was being told in the first place. Stop choosing to be the me I don't like. I'm going to need some time to chew on that as well.
Well good, this felt much more like exploration than staying the same. |
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"We live in a "should be" society instead of a "what is" society."
- A Paraphrase from "Lenny", starring Dustin Hoffman as Lenny Bruce. There is a depression possible. It's something I've always avoided. And it always seems to standardize my levels of comfort by how far from it I was, or how well I could discredit its existence. Of course, I don't want to be depressed, I certainly don't want how much I like how much I have to feel lessened by what I'm not. I could almost define happiness as – not worrying about being depressed. I don’t want to be depressed, it almost goes without saying. But I never questioned how that flighty goal affected any others; never wondered what else I was running from while avoiding this arbitrary punishment for not “making good choices.” Of course I’m worried about being depressed; I know I haven’t made “good choices". And I also know I’m not the only person who knows that. I know that doubt is something that enters everyone’s mind about the choices they’ve made. What worries me is my “supply” of ammo I have to combat those doubts with; maybe depression is running out of “guns”. Oddly enough, my doubts as a pacifist have led me to violent metaphors for keeping my beliefs. “I refuse to be depressed” is how my inner Pope Patton would put it. My inner peace elects to put the battle on depression’s home field; keep it as far away from "here" as possible. The distance desired from depression requires a shield, and I should know better than to have a shield when nobody’s fighting. I think I’ve pushed a lot of people away. I think I’ve made some “bad choices” attempting to protect my inner worries from the outer world. And I can beat myself up about it because – there is a depression possible; tomorrow, five years from now, things I did I wish I hadn’t done, things I wish I could have done. Anxiety relinquishes my appreciation; some proud moments have been quickly humbled by quiet despair.
Thinking about how possible it is to be afraid, I now realize how it has always been possible to be afraid. Then I question how ignorant I was of this constant possibility, question any conquest of it, and question even my current ability to deal with it. My distance from depression had been an illusion this entire time, it has always been possible - how the hell am I supposed to deal with that? Well, ignorance seemed to work; I can handle whatever I don’t know. But ignorance by choice seems like a “bad choice” if you ask me. Maybe the best choice I have is to keep it a choice. I know it’s always possible, therefore I can always choose to be depressed, it wouldn’t be that hard. Maybe I should always choose to challenge myself. “Depression’s for quitters” the posters could say. Seems like an awful lofty ideal, “No, I know I’m not depressed because I never choose to be depressed.” That doesn’t sound right to me, anxiety comes from way too many places and I can’t defend all the attack points, he’s a sneaky bastard. Well, at any rate, I’m gonna have to learn to deal with him. At least he doesn’t seem so scary anymore. Maybe acceptance of doubt is a part of acceptance of you. I know people who accept me with doubts; I even think that statement deserves its double-meaning. Accepting what I can’t do, accepting what I don’t do; I’m going to have to accept that just as much as anybody else who would like me to “do something”. And maybe that’s not as happy/not-depressed as I want it to be, but it does give a certain shape to the idea. This option seems wiser to me than adding up my current recollections to equate my level of self-satisfaction; using the ups and downs of the constant “past couple weeks” to measure how much I think of myself. Who I am should be defined by what I do right now, or that should at least be the definition I have for myself, right? To define myself according to what I have done is only useful to me if that’s what I want to continue to do. And what do I want to continue to do – to choose to challenge myself. How do I do that – I don’t know. Maybe I’ll plead “ignorance” and hope for a settlement out of court. I’ll try to make some “good choices”, I guess. All I know is that in the past couple months I’ve been discovering that happiness is something I have to work towards – not “work for” or “work from”, because I can doubt happiness/not-depressed in every situation other than “something I’m working towards.” Kids work towards happiness, they’ll pout to get it, and they always think somebody older has the answer. Well, I’m quite a bit older and I still don’t have the answer. But if I keep working towards it, I’m at least always doing the best that I can. Then it becomes a belief, in which I don’t have to feel hypocritical when a child trusts me, because “I’m tying my damndest and so can you” (I could say to my new lil’ buddy). I think some would say those kids have the secret, that their intentions should always stay fresh within us; some would say that the secret to growing old is staying young. I disagree with that, kids get the unfair advantage of always knowing where protection is. That factor may not go away, but it certainly won’t be the same as it was. But once protection goes away one can start working towards happiness, remove the shield and start working towards happiness, and before one knows it – one feels better already. I thought this was going to be real personal, turned out to be kind of selfish. Well, at least I can still make myself feel better.
I can even use this entry as "ammo" later. Ew, that sounds more mastebatory than internet porn - Internet self-hope-refresher.
(I even question the use of kleenex...)
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 What else? |
Current Music: |
No music, surprisingly. | |
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I finished college, and that's about as far as my plans had gotten. Sure, I've got ideas of what I want to do, but they feel pretty empty without an online enrollment. Here I sit with no schedual, nothing due, and it feels completely different than summer. I could sprinkle this paragraph full of "I'm not on break but I'm not in school" or "I'm behind the starting line" statements but they don't say anything to me, much less say anything from me. Honestly, I feel incrested in a cliche. I feel appropraitely inadequate; trained in the past and applying for a future. My present is defined by a blank page titled "Peronal contribution tools." The page is blank because that's a working title. I don't know what I can contribute; what I can say on my resume. I'm geussing at what I can gaurantee; what different difference I bring. It's a hapless wondering - difference is defined by rotating eyes. I wish to give something that can be taken by more than the people I know; to find the valuable universal. I look to the common thread between me and all people that I've been wrapping around my finger till it turned purple in an attempt to connect - it tells me I should have been making a sweater. The difference I desire to make is aimed toward the great and shaded in the vague. My thoughts scatter across matters of great importance, and insignificance ropes them all in. My rodeo of hopes never lasts longer than eight seconds. I am a perfectly qualified baby crawling away from my mommy. No longer am I going somewhere if I don't know where. And now I'm realizing what one learns after schooling's done: Consequence. In all this time under a microcosm of freedom, failure was limited to a piece of paper. Failure defined by someone else, what a joke. I can't learn anything about myself from failing a test other than that I didn't study enough for that test. Now my entire life is a test, and how does one study for such a test? It must be a study in belief. The only thing that can be certain is what one decides to be certain, what one decides to reinvent within themselves throughout the uncertainty. Oh, school can teach that: Believe in yourself, work hard, good grades happen, and the belief is re-enforced. Consequently, I don't believe in good grades, they didn't stroke me in any special way, so I start fresh at this juncture of my life. Well, I do believe life is confusing. I believe I taught myself just as much as college taught me, and I believe that's my fault. I believe this entry is as lost as I am. I believe the time in between these sentances is too long while the music is too short. I believe I am frustrated with what I am writing right now. I believe I am giving up right now. I'm done with college and I learned a lot, mainly that school is just as ineffectual as I thought it was in gradeschool. But I also learned that my foot swings right up to my mouth, so I've learned to say "College taught me so much more than I could even grasp." I also learned that tempered down statement like that are usually true. I also learned that no one cares about tempered down statements. I also learned that contradiction is inescapable in rambling thoughts. And that no one wants to read their way to a dead end. And that if they are dissapointed there will be a next time. And that any attempts to end can easily be thwarted by "Just one more thought." I am learning right now that I am just not in a place to say anything about where I'm at. And that I'm out of practice at this.
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Isolated under a stale cold, I feel the inertia of realization. Stubbornly present, I picture the past. A stillness stirs my nerves recalling days swifter than change.
Trickling as leaves off a tree, days have passed absently. Dead as they hit the ground, the wind brushes them away into piles in the corners along the sidewalks. Then the leaves turn brown, their shape simply a reminder, and they crumble into the pieces we can barely hold on to. In the forever fading fall, your coat was too warm for the weather outside, the crunches of your steps were lighter than mine, and days were dancing to the ground all around us. The trees couldn’t hold them very long, so many days jumping to start suddenly in a change of season. I combed leaves out of your hair, as abundant as they were I didn’t think to keep them. The colors of that day left an imprint. The leaves had time to turn brown, but your skin was radiant among piles of red and yellow. Your laugh echoed in our cave encased under blue. I was one with you, I was alone with you.
My last grand illusion; I lost you in the winter. The last leaves of trees fell off in the cold rains of December. The wet gray streets reflect my face as I walk across the yellow lines. Your street didn’t have lines and it was too warm to be wet; your house always facing west, the colors shifting gradually across the white exterior. Over the black ice of sidewalk I lock my hands in my front pockets, in case you need to hold my arm. On warmer days, my palms sweat in my pockets, my top button is avoided; I have a limit for warmth. Under beating heat, my rhythm is a march against the wind to make it stronger. I reflect on winter, and remember it most for being after autumn. My restless hunger for your faceless image grumbles my stomach with a subtle hint of your smell. I chew and swallow letting you go, it leaves a taste of where you went. I miss the incompleteness in anticipating your return. Being whole, I question my stitching. My sunken eyes flood as the biting wind reminds them they have no protection. I sit here, on a bench, reenacting the fall of a leaf in my head. I feel the slightly warmer winds of a warmer season. My bookmark saving my spot, I stop turning my pages for a while. I think of impacted seconds and second chances. I miss my mother, or rather, the absence of concern. I miss you and regret who I used to be. And the shriveled lifeless shedding from fall is scooting along dry grass under a wind that can carry but not crush it, destined to become dust that someone wipes off their blinds. |
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Act 1 Scene 1 At Rise: A desk on the right side of the stage facing a chair opposite of it. The desk seats two, the sheik design curves and it resembles an “L” table with its lack of drawers. The walls are some shade of “Strawberry Cream” with white trim. From the ceiling hangs a silver chandelier that decorates more with shapes than lights. The chair is an office chair: it swivels, the seat adjusts height, and the wheels can roll. Door stage right. As lights go up, Greg is seated at the desk, facing downstage he is looking for something to do amongst his papers and pens. Kelly enters with two cups of coffee. Greg Kelly, thank you, Kelly. You are dynamite, really. (Beat) Y’know Kelly, I think this is a good team we’ve got here. We’ve got chemistry, y’know Kelly? Kelly sits next to her colleague, facing stage right with the curve. Kelly (Checking her papers) Greg. It was not a problem. I do not do interviews without my coffee. Greg Right. You’re good at asking questions, y’know? I’ve noticed that about you, Kelly. Kelly You too, Greg. Knock on door. Ginger enters. Ginger Superman is waiting outside. Kelly Send him in. Ginger exits. Is Greg really not saying something in this silence? Superman enters. Kelly Mr. Kent, please have a seat. Superman strolls to chair, hangs cape over back of chair. Kelly Thank you for coming, coffee or juice? (No) Do you know why you are here today, Superman? Superman Um…I’m here for the interview. Lois said something about press coverage supporting people active in their communities. Greg (Stands. At least he came prepared) Superman, the world is changing. Entertainment is a new source of vindication and hope for today’s America. We here at E! Entertainment are trying to accept that responsibility. We’re asking the tough questions, figuring the facts for this new generation no longer disconnected from its greater culture across the country. Our current project: Who is the real American Idol? We want to know what America can believe in, who actually has the influence on the American mainstream. Superman, as a figure of the American people we believe you to be a candidate for American Idol. Press coverage indeed, Superman. You have been under-covered compared to the likes of musicians, movie stars, and authors with movie deals. We wish to find a voice for America to believe in. We want to know if you’re that voice. May we ask you a few questions? Greg sits down as he finishes. Superman Well, I’m very flattered. My powers are weak compared to the hearts of every American citizen, they are my hope. I hope you understand if my answers seem boring or simple. Kelly No apologies necessary. Shall we? (Yes) (Using her papers) Superman, the news channels are flashing more and more pictures of problems worsening in the government, environment, drug-use, and missing children. What do you think the news should be reporting? Superman I think the news should report proud moments in American history. I find many disagreements people have with our democratic society come from not understanding where those standards come from. We are a great country; that is a constant the news takes for granted. There should be more stories about American tradition winning in the face of oppression and injustice. All smiles and pleasantries on stage left. Kelly Wonderful, I think the American people would like to hear that. What is it about the “American Tradition” that attracts your endorsement? Greg looks at Kelly. Superman As you know, it is what I fight for: Truth, justice, and the American way. Greg Define “American way”. Superman I would say the American way is for freedom, fraternity, and equal opportunity. Kelly That is terrific, just terrific. I understand you had a movie out last year? Superman Yes, everyone did such a marvelous job on that film. I wish I were that good, the movie creates unrealistic expectations even of me. Greg I understand there is no real Jimmy Olsen? Why is he still part of your story and who’s taking pictures of Superman? Superman It is true, Jimmy is a fan favorite because he is a fun character and we would all miss him if he were to disappear. I allow no photography when I’m working. I only allow artist renderings for law enforcement purposes, but those inkers get pretty busy. Greg How does the average American relate to Superman? Superman Although I am an alien from the planet krypton, my home is the same as theirs. I wish to live in the same place they do: a peaceful productive country. Any American fighting for his way of life can relate to me, a fellow soldier protecting democracy. Kelly (flustered)
Is it hard being a hero? Inspiring people everyday with your dramatic efforts? Superman It is easier for me to swoop and fly than to articulate why I swoop and fly. What I do is no greater than a father finding gifts to put under the tree, a child saying no to drugs, or someone voting for the first time. Greg How would you describe what you do? Superman I protect the American way. I fight off those that would cause doubt in Democracy’s ability to serve and protect its people. I am a proponent for helping my fellow Americans against what undermines their way of life. But my feats will never reach as far as my beliefs, I believe in all those who stand with me from across the country. They are the true American way. Kelly (Hoping he might have a brother)
Well, you certainly are super. Tell me, what do you think are the qualities of a true “American Idol”? Superman I’ll let the American people decide that. I’m just doing what I can, and I suppose any idol should be doing that. Greg (Noticing Kelly's giddy inner-teen)
Well good, I think that’s about all the questions we have for you. I’d like to extend a personal invitation to our Red Carpet Gala this weekend for Katrina Victims, you interested? Superman I will have to give that some thought. The three rise and shake hands. Kelly Thank you so much for coming in, we must do this again sometime. Superman Miss, I think your network would benefit from putting on more dedicated individuals like yourself on the air. Kelly That is so sweet of you to say. Greg Superman, E! Entertainment thanks you for coming in. I wish you the safest of flights back home. Superman It was a pleasure speaking with you this morning. Kelly Pleasure for us, too. Superman So long. Greg Tell Lois we said hi. Superman exits. The pair goes to sit back down at the desk. Greg (Wrapping it up) Success, that’s an American Idol if you ask me, Kelly. We can cancel the rest of the interviews for all I care; he’s what we’re looking for. It’s a shame to waste any more of that beautiful day outside... Kelly No Greg, I will not go to lunch with you. Ginger enters. Ginger Jesus Christ is waiting outside. After a nod, Ginger exits. Greg (Measly) I just didn’t know if you wanted to look over and discuss the interviews over some cordon bleu. I make time for meals I can savor; you never know when that one meal could be your last. Jesus enters, Greg and Kelly stand to greet him. Kelly Good morning your holiness, may I offer you some juice or coffee? Jesus Did the fruit fall off the tree willingly or was it picked? Greg Our organic juice is…organic. Jesus Worry not, Greg and Kelly, I shall do just fine during this time we are together. Let us be seated, (Referring to the wounds) my feet itch. The three laugh. Sit. Greg Well, Heyzues, are you aware of what we are doing here? Jesus Yes. I have long been meaning to reach out to the E! network, I am pleased with this rare opportunity for us to work together. I cannot make it to that Gala, Greg. Tell your co-workers I am sorry. Greg Well, let us know if you change your mind, Jesus. Jesus I won’t. (To Kelly) Kelly, I believe you have some questions for me. Kelly Yes, I do. Jesus That was deduction, not divinity. What a miracle observation is. Let us give thanks. Jesus bows his head. Pause. Jesus (To the ceiling) You too, Father. (To Kelly and Greg) Let us move forward. Kelly Ok. Jesus, you are part of the biggest book deal in all of history, worker of wood and the world, and you literally hold the obedience of millions in the palm of your hand. Jesus, everybody wants to know, how do you feel about gay marriage? Jesus I refer to my parable about the seed sewer; the seed will only grow in certain soil. Greg Forgive me, Jesus, but I don’t understand that answer. Jesus Study your good book, Greg, you will find your answers there. Greg So you wish to remain neutral? Jesus Listen to your heart. Greg Let’s say I’m asking my heart, what answer would you give it to give to me? Jesus Rest your troubles upon my shoulders; I will carry the burdens that trouble you. Greg Jesus, this is a rather important question that people are dying to know, could you be a little more specific? Jesus Do not trouble yourself with concerns of the mortal world. Greg Well we down here are trying to be fair to each other, could you help us out? Jesus I am helping you. Listen to your heart. Greg Okay, what if I don’t want your help then? Jesus I am always with you. Kelly I think that is enough of that topic. Jesus how do you feel that… Jesus (Answering her question before she finishes) When people want to find me, they need only look inward and pray. Kelly Is praying an important part of what you stand for? Jesus Gracious prayer should follow every blessing. (To Greg) Yes Greg, that is more than before and after going to bed. Kelly Should the American people be praying more than twice a day? Jesus Yes, prayer is the most open conversation we can have with God. Kelly and Greg look at each other, “that’s too bad”, then they take a disapproving note. Kelly Jesus, you have been popular at the box office recently. I would like to ask you about the Davinci Code… Jesus is slightly perturbed. Jesus They get picky about bible interpretation when they are solving puzzles by a painter 400 years older than them. A secret society forms and 1500 years later one of the ring-leaders decides to play hide and seek with “divine” heredity in a couple puzzles and paintings? The texts they were using were deemed unusable when the Bible was collected together, their evidence has been ruled-out for at least a thousand years. Sounds like just as big of a conspiracy as what they claim I’m pulling. Greg So what about the kid? Jesus That child is not mine. No where in the good book does it say anything about me having children. Greg We’re not looking at the good book; we’re looking at your history. I did some research. Inquisitions, crusades, genocides…Jesus, I think you may be a little too twisted for the American people. Jesus Wait, wait, wait…I died for man’s sins. Kelly Crucified in a movie directed by an anti-Semite, yes? Jesus In a book that brought the message of love to the entire world, yes? Greg That’s old news, Heyzeus. More people know Mel Gibson than the names of half your apostles. Jesus (Begrudgingly) I know. They know not what they do. Greg moves toward door. Greg I think we’re done here, Jesus. We were looking for an Idol, not a judge. Maybe next year will turn out better for you. All stand. Jesus Perhaps it is best. No, Greg, Kelly will not go to lunch with you after this. Kelly, it was nice to meet you, Greg, likewise. May God bless both of you. I guess I’ll go grab the strumming/right hand. See you later, God bless. Jesus exits. Before Greg and Kelly sit back down, turban man enters. Sits in chair slowly, never breaking eye contact. Greg Well that was slightly depressing in more ways than…Oh my God. Kelly, call security. She doesn’t. Kelly Are you in the right room, sir? Pause. Greg Sir, we don’t want any trouble. We haven’t done anything to you, why don’t you just go back to…somewhere. (Pause) Please leave us alone. Turban man holds out a handheld mirror in front of himself, reflecting Greg and Kelly. Greg What the hell? Sir, I will give you whatever you want, just let us go peacefully. Kelly (Pause) Is there something we can help you with? Maybe we could arrange a flight back home for you to see your family… Continued silence from turban man. Greg (Pours his coffee on Turban man) Don’t make me lose my cool any further buddy. Get out, you’re a great influence on nobody. Get the fuck out of here! (Pause) I can’t think of anything that I care less about than pieces of shit just like you. (Pause) Kelly garbs a small square napkin and lightly wipes Taliban man’s face. Kelly It would be best for you to leave, sir. We do not mean you any harm, but you are in danger sitting in this room. Go home sir, wherever that is. You are just scaring people acting like this, stop it. You do not match what we had in mind. (pause) The end. |
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Here's another play I wrote in class. Sorry if the formatting is funky. I am also sorry if derogatory racial terms offend anybody. It is not my viewpoint nor do I condone use of the word, but I felt it was justified in illustrating the obstacles in the way of these characters. There is also a crappy attempt at an accent in this play that comes across as bad grammer.
Kowinski – 36, a Jewish boxer in the twilight of his career. He is noted for being a middle weight that could beat the best heavyweights in the world. Johnson – 22, a black boxer in the early stages of his career. He would go on to be the most popular black figure of the 1910’s by becoming the first black heavyweight champion. He was noted for his revolutionary counter-punching which he developed in this stage of his career. Guards 1 and 2 should be physically inferior to prisoners. Prisoner – Bigger than Guard 2, but if he is black then conflict will be too specifically about race. Setting: A prison away from either fighters home. It is 1908 during a lull in Boxing’s popularity. The fighters were arrested for participating in an illegal (but lucrative) gambling match. This play is not factual, but loosely based on loose facts. Jack Johnson stayed in jail with Kowinski for thirty days after their fight in 1908. Johnson later said that he learned a lot about boxing from Kowinski in those thirty days.
Act 1 Scene 1 At Rise: A jail cell, 1908. There are two beds facing downstage on either side of the stage. There is a small window in the center of the upstage wall with bars. Toilet under window. A walkway across the downstage is fenced off from the cell area of the stage by a short fence-like material. It doesn’t intrude on the scene but the cell-mates should be stuck. As lights go up, both prisoners are in bed. The lights are dim, it is nighttime. Both prisoners have bruises and cuts on their faces. Kowinski, stage right bed, is tossing and turning occasionally in between bouts of silences. Finally, he gets up and starts tucking his sheets and blanket under the mattress. A guard scuffles on stage. Guard Hey! You’re to stay in your bed at lights out buster. Kowinski continues tucking in the sheets. Guard Get back in your bed or I have the authority to come in there and beat your legs till you don’t have a choice. (Beat) Kowinski finishes and gets back in his bed having never acknowledged the guard. Guard No one’s scared of you in here you Yiddish prick. Next time, you don’t get a nice warning, your face will look a lot worse than that when I’m through with you. Guard starts to exit, Johnson peeks his head up. Johnson Your fat ass hasn’t beaten anybody up in years, that’s why you’re on the night watch… Guard turns back around. Guard (Angrily) I’m watching you too, nigger boy. Don’t think I can’t see you back there hiding in the dark. Johnson (Throwing his sheets off his bed and coming straight up to the fence) You can give me all the reasons you want, step on inside, I’ll beat you till… Kowinski grapples Johnson and presses on a bruise under Johnson’s eye. Johnson writhes in pain. Kowinski forces him back in his bed. Kowinski Stay in your bed. (To guard) You did your job. Nigger boy doesn’t seem to like it here. Won’t happen again. Guard (Laughs) Back to your corners boys. Guard exits. Beat. Johnson I’d rather be a nigger than a Jew. Kowinski We’re both, keep quiet, for both our sakes. Lights down. When lights go up, the cellmates are making their beds. Kowinski Sorry about getting your eye last night. Johnson Don’t do it again. Kowinski Well I couldn’t help it the first time. Johnson (Pause) I scare you. Kowinski (Annoyed) Of course you do, don’t be a moron. I don’t want you start anything in here and I can’t trust you to do that. Is there a problem? Johnson You’re scared of those clowns out there too. Kowinski I gotta get another fight and I can’t do that in here. I don’t want any trouble so please stop asking for it. Johnson finishes. Johnson Bookkeeping bitch, why do you let them control you like that? No pride? Kowinski I don’t take pride in making other people do what I want. Johnson But you’re a fighter, are you not? Are you not a fighter? Kowinski It’s a competition Johnson And your good at it because you like people telling you what to do until they let you go? You’re a moron. Kowinski I can hit people better than they can hit me, that’s not making them do something. Johnson It makes them lose. Kowinski finishes, gets out a book. Kowinski Yes, I make them lose to get my job done. I do my job, is there a problem? Johnson You lost yesterday because you let a brownie scare you. Kowinski I’ve beaten the shit out of guys bigger than you and I was scared of them. That doesn’t mean I can’t beat them. Johnson But you lost yesterday. Kowinski That means you could beat me yesterday. Johnson That means I can beat you everytime. Kowinski You can’t beat someone every time until you’ve beaten them more than once. Johnson You ain’t scared of me anymore tomorrow? Kowinski No, tomorrow I’ll know to conserve my punches because all you do is dodge them. Johnson Yeah, maybe I should slow down and take a couple punches. Kowinski (Laughs) Fine, I’m slow because I got tired because I’m old. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t beat you. You’ve got a whole mess of obstacles in your way. You have to prove something, you have to show up this Jewish white boy, you’ve gotta keep up your front so you can keep up your talk. Johnson What are you talking about? I got nothing but me in that ring! What are you? What you got in the ring? Got no mom, no manager, no wife, no church, nothing in that ring. The only thing that can stop someone from stopping me is me. Kowalski That other guy isn’t going to stop you? Johnson He can’t. Kowalski If he can’t stop you than who does? When you lose, is it your fault? Johnson Yeah. Kowalski Oh, so you are the one stopping yourself, like I just said. Johnson You a smart ass huh? Kowalski I’m not a good boxer because I bet on my bronze every time. Johnson Well your brain didn’t help you much as I was knocking it around, telling you what to do in my ring. You’re just a smart sheep, you’re all white-ass sheep. I’m shepparding you all around my ring. The cane shows your fluffy fannies where you go and you just “bah bah” around asking where to go next. I’m not a sheep. I tell them what to do and I can tell you what to do because when push comes to shove you can’t shove me, you’re a fucking sheep. Kowalski We all can be sheep. I can be a sheep, but that doesn’t make me a sheep. You push anyone enough they’ll stop being sheep. Aren’t you just a negro sheep that’s tired of being told you can’t box? I’m tired. I’m an old sheep who realizes that my pride isn’t going to take me as far as my ego thinks it will. Johnson Your one fucked up sheep. No wonder you’re so slow in the ring, you gone and tied yourself up in knots. Kowalski Yeah, your dodging wore me out. You didn’t beat me senseless, my legs gave out. Johnson I will dance around you for days until you can’t hold your hands in front of your face and then knock you senseless. Is there a problem? Kowalski Someone’s gonna beat you eventually. Johnson Well this system works just fine for me. Kowalski What if that isn’t working? What if someone punches you into a corner? Johnson The corner? The corner’s the best place to be, you kidding me? You never been to a nigger boy royale before? Putting eight of us in a ring together, ganging up on me who’s doing the best; Back into a corner, they can only fight you one on one. It focuses the threat, I love fighting from the corner. No one can dance around you when you in a corner, maybe you should’ve backed off. Kowalski You’re a moron. Johnson Why? Why?? Tell me why I, the winner, I the one who fights what’s in front of me, I the one who won’t let me lose is a moron. Kowalski You don’t counter punch. They could train just their arms for six weeks, punch longer than you can dodge, then punch you like a bag. Johnson I can dodge longer than anyone can punch. Kowalski That’s why you’re a moron. You’re letting the other person’s fight stall yours. You’re half the fight, you should be throwing half of the punches. Their open for a punch if they just tried and failed, attack God damn it. You holding back because you’re negro and don’t want the rich whities to agree to fights? Johnson You saying I’m holding back? I swear to God I will crush your teeth with both my hands pressing both sides of your face…I got that fight yesterday by never holding back. Kowalski You don’t hold back? Then what is all that dancing you do? Johnson I fight to survive. If you’re taking punches, you aren’t going to last long. Kowalski But it’s a competition, it involves skill. You write the story of the fight, not that other guy. He’s got his own jungle to deal with over their. His fight, his vines, his fear, his hate; that’s what he’ll blame after you beat him and that’s what you should be beating out of him. Johnson How about I just beat him senseless. If I want it more than he does than I can’t lose. Kowalski That’s ridiculous. You’re lying to yourself if you think you’re just your will in there. Your whole being is on the line, your very existence is being tested against that other person. Which man can fight through his loss of will? Which man can punch past what’s in his way? The better man wins, not the better fighter. You aren’t what you do, what you do is affected by what you are. Johnson (Smiles) So I’m the better man? Kowalski You were yesterday. Give me another shot when you’ve got pride weighing you down. I eat pride by biting my mouth piece. You wouldn’t beat me again unless you did something different. If you came to the ring with the same numbskull strategy you had last time, I’d pick you apart with punches. Johnson I’d punch the sense out of you. I’m not scared of you’re smarts. Nothing scares me, that’s why nothing can beat me. Kowalski You are a moron saying things like that. You got a wife? Johnson Yes, but she doesn’t come to the ring with me. Like I said, I’ve got nobody in that ring but me. Kowalski You always telling her what to do? Is she a victim of your will too? Johnson We’re doing fine, I don’t punch her if that’s what you’re saying. Kowalski Yeah, but you fight her. Always telling her what to do, you’re losing. You’re dodging change; keeping her away so she can’t pull any punches. You’re scared of her. Johnson (Laughs) You’re a fool. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m not scared of a woman. That’s why you lost, you brought your wife with you, you let her tell you how to fight. How would she know? She doesn’t know shit about your fight, she’s not there. Kowalski You’re right, she’s not there. So she won’t ever understand the difference she’s making. If she could, she would see she’s just adding weight to the world on your shoulders. She’s slowing you down because you have to dodge her while living your lie, that your not scared; that you only fight what’s in front of you. You find me a man who has lost that fight of change, I’ll show you a man who wins using the other guy’s punches. He can adapt, he can accept he’s not enough by himself, he has a life outside of that ring. You’re fighting for survival in there? No boy, you’re fighting to win a game of skill. Surviving is one way to win, but eventually someone will figure you out. They’ll figure out you’re just surviving and that’s all your bringing to that ring. If they have strong enough resolve and any reason at all to win, they can pounce on you while your hiding. Johnson I’m never hiding. Kowalski Then why aren’t you listening? Beat. Guard 2 enters. He is pushing another prisoner across who is cuffed. Guard 2 Lunch, boys. Time to go. (To prisoner, who struggles) Hey! He beats prisoner over the head. Prisoner falls to his knees. Holding the cuffs so the prisoner’s arms are lifted behind him, Guard beats him a couple times around the torso. Prisoner I’m gonna kill you… Guard hits him again. Guard 2 Shut up you worthless piece of shit! You’re ass is black and blue if you say one more fucking word! Guard exits, dragging prisoner by the cuffs. Johnson Piece of shit punk. Kowalski Which one? The end. |
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