Thu, 19 May 2005

unlearn
“Hey man,” the businessman said when he saw the jilted ex-boyfriend with explosives taped to his chest in a final act of faith in last-minute reprieves from people who lie when they say they don’t love you anymore and just can’t see things the right way which sometimes a desperate and valiant act can put into a certain focus only he didn’t know where it was he should go as there’s no empty land in the city anymore (that’s why it’s a city) and noplace where there wasn’t bound to be some nature of structural damage and he felt the same vertigo he once felt considering the cleaning lady who would have to clean up his brains only he knows they have special people for that hired by the city with amazing disinfectants which erase the very memory of atrocity from some once and now once again anonymous room but even then someone just takes on one more little bit of damage under the skin and eventually there’s only so much pain anyone can take on and he has to know that as well as anyone and what if he was the one to send that person into a spiral of self-destructive behavior i mean this guy just wants the impossible feat of returning a situation to the way it once was only fixed forever so as never to discover there was always some barely-covered emptiness festering in her heart and waiting for some strange boy to come walking by and give her a reason, right, he didn’t want to be come sort of enabler for massive widespread agony enabler you see being a word he picked up on in group and sorta stuck with him as now he had terminology for the sense he long had that his personal blame was a web that extends beyond the things he understands, i mean, everybody’s responsible then, because how do you know what’s going to set someone off and he knows in the back of his mind that he doesn’t really have it right but it sounds right ot him in a desperate sense but as we’ve already seen this is a person not above desperate logic and equally questionable ideas such as the solution for his notiong of distributed culpability which is the paranoid’s crutch of randomness or perhaps even if he were one to get mystical the unconscious urge toward a specific area manifest in directions he doesn’t undertstand as he thinks through the first past that comes to him to this three-story cement storage block eternally half-full with the castoff jetsam of a couple hundred transitory lives and an office building where the businessman was to sit and ponder the day’s events for a couple hours before the rest of the staff comes in since they’re all essentially college kids adverse to the idea of early to rise and there’s no peace and quiet at home what with the kids hollering and shooting aliens hiding in the closets and watching some sort of semi-pornographic mexican cartoon about a sentient donkey and his two breastacular assistants who maybe solve crimes or something certainly not the sort of environment which lends itself to contemplation of anything and certainly not now with his wife’s endless cold calculated slights and punishments for things he can no longer remember so the best time for him is an hour or so here in the office with a cup of hot coffee and maybe the morning paper maybe not it depends on what kind of day it feels like but no, not today, today some clown is standing behidn his desk with a rock in his hand he used to break the window over the door and climb inside with what even the businessman can see is explosives wrapped to his chest so that all he can say is “Hey man, please don’t blow yourself up here, this is the best place I have.”
(12:26.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #