part four
sitting in a youth thing in new orleans. i met up
with these slackers. first in atlanta. then at the greyhound terminal
in new orleans. finally ran into them on the wharf. following
them around. learning the ropes. the real road is much different
than visiting friends. most of them are from boston. joey connecticut.
chestnuts been on the road since fifteen. seventeen now. hes sort
of the leader to us rookies. irk. joker. they do their own thing.
been in new orleans twelve hours now.
[the last paragraph was wrong.]
they call it the drop-out centre. those who go here.
they provide a place to wash. shower. people do laundry. drink
tea. coffee. sit around on old couches chatting. sewing. a doctor
is provided twice a week. today. this week. something of a special
week. everyone returns. mardi gras. gossip about him in ohio.
she in dallas. people are returning for the mardi gras. and the
police crackdown begins. more people arrive at the centre. shower.
hang out. away from the police. away from the world.
# # #
fourth night in new orleans. if you count the greyhound
station the first night. i dont. lets see. not much time to reflect.
always busy doing stuff. enjoying life. i think. not much time
to think about it. think now.
i bought a new pad today. fourteen by seventeen.
its cool. i drew one picture in it. around noon. then someone
else borrowed the pad to draw on. never got a second one done.
two a day and by monday ill have four and can go
to jackson square and start selling. right now. fifty dollars.
each. tomorrow. i ask around. proper pricing. then i can draw
more as i sit and try to sell. hopefully it works. well see.
# # #
everyone leaves town now. mardi gras is over. returning
to normal. prices. people. life. sometime. maybe tomorrow. maybe
later. arkansas. mining for crystals with magic. then. austin.
anarchists convention. find a ride to san francisco. well see.
# # #
i met a man who plays the bongos. he was in a band
in the seventies. maybe eighties. they told him he was too old
for them. he is going to form his own band now. he plays on the
streets to get the money to buy all the equipment. so he has his
own drums. and not someone elses. hes doing it right this time.
# # #
dan. an interesting. he speaks several languages.
a few close friends. studies eastern religions. film producer.
one of these days. works in a restaurant. now.
agatha and dan are perfect roommates. (no longer...)
# # #
jacking in. looking for ways onto the network once
i leave university. steve suggested telenet. talking to ben. setting
up new accounts. i talked to this guy in brazil the other day.
# # #
the movie slacker is pretty accurate. they missed
all the poor stuff though. sleeping in stinking smelling abandoned
condemned buildings. not even fit to call a squat. begging. spanging.
panhandling of the tourists. others. going to the bakery and getting
free bread. free food places. dumpster diving. pizza hut. they
missed the whole slack part of slackers. but otherwise. waking
up. walking around. hanging. exactly what ive been doing.
# # #
talking to people. new orleans. after five. they
recreate bourbon street in cyberspace. you have a description.
and money. and people walk up and down the street. stopping and
waving and talking to each other. like reality. you can walk away
from someone. hit someone. touch someone. you can even have sex
with someone. but you wont feel anything. youll just see the words.
# # #
last night shannon needed space. tom was smothering
her. shannons no longer sure toms the one for her. the engagement
is off.
tom was crying. and shannon was crying. and they
were asking shannon what was wrong. but all i could do was hold
tom and tell him to cry some more. i gave him my hand and told
him to squeeze it hard. i knew what he was feeling and no amount
of words could have healed him.
a young boy. so naive. so innocent. still living
in his fantasy world. now shattered. the pain this must cause.
the pain it did. it does with everyone. i wish he could still
live there in that land beyond reality. everyones a prince. and
everyone is happy. with tom shannon has lost the true love she
dreamt of as a child. and yesterday tom lost the true love he
dreamt of in shannon. how i would wish that we could all stay
so innocent. so ignorant of the world and all its disappointments.
ignorance is truly bliss.
# # #
new years eve. we went to a party. people. people
none of us knew. met a guy. ed. so much like roger. his face.
his hair. (and i couldnt bare to look in his eyes). a longing.
a remembrance. and how i could never touch. i swore i was going
to kiss him by the end of the evening. i swore id fall in love
with him. like i did with roger.
i didnt. my soul was saved from the torment of a
love i could never fulfill. yet i longed to touch him. to hold
him. but the longing was only superficially for ed. because he
looked like roger. and so i tried to stay away from him while
desperately wanting to be next to him. and in the end i wasnt
entranced. because he wasnt roger. no matter how closely he looked
like him.
later on we left the party. ben was drunk. we left
him there. we were going. and so we celebrated new years eve in
a dunkin donuts.
# # #
i am scared of my past. scared of what i might find
if i return there. afraid of dealing with people i have not dealt
with for some time. some who i intended to cut off forever. now
it looks like i will be returning sooner than i intended. and
ill have to deal with my parents. my employers. my friends. so
many people who are so distant from me here. its scarcely been
two months and yet in that time ive changed so much. become so
much i never was. discovered so much about life. about myself.
will my friends be able to deal with what ive become. will i be
able to deal with them. or even the society ill be reintegrated
into. i sit now so distanced from middle class suburbia. sickened
even. how can i put out of my mind what ive seen. what ive felt.
i cant. its changed me. i am no longer middle class. my brothers
are on the street and i can never deny that. i must find a new
way to live within a class i despise. with people of that class
who were my friends. who are my friends. i am scared we will no
longer know each other. we will no longer have common ground.
i am scared.
# # #
she asks. how did you do it. how did you find the
courage to just pick up and leave. sell everything you own and
live off nothing. how did you do it. why. why did you do that.
why did you just go. and i realise these are some of the most
important questions asked. when all is said and done theyll know
what i did. but not how. or why. now theyll know. now theyll know.
a city. my past. college. i went to a science school.
technical. discovering. how i didnt want to be there. my father
had such dreams of me there. but it wasnt his to dream. and then
it came. how i didnt care. when i finally was paying it all for
myself. i stood. i stared. i looked. and i saw i wasnt happy.
i saw it was useless. i saw i would never use what those four
years would accomplish. art was my passion. in the way. in. not.
science too. but not. there not in the way. it was.
so i committed myself to art. determined. and when
they wouldnt let me major. i decided i had to leave. the two or
three weeks after this. how agonizing. not knowing where i was
going. not knowing. anything. no direction. no future. i was scared.
then in a search a friend suggested san francisco. to do my art.
to live. and i accepted. and if i was going i might as well see
things along the way. and it was.
i needed to. i needed to grow. college had taught
me all it could this time around. all the rest were lessons to
be read. anytime. anywhere. i had wanted to become friendlier.
i had wanted to become strong. so i forced myself into a situation
where meeting people. being strong. was essential to life. new
orleans. id know no one. not a place to sleep. not a soul to help.
i needed to make my own friends there. and in ways i did. it worked.
but in ways it failed. i burned out. and it will take me some
time to acquire a taste of talking to strangers. too much. too
fast. too soon.
but ive changed. i needed to sell everything. give
it all away. i was entering a new time in my life and i needed
to shed my old shell. when i had come to college a new era began.
i lived. alone. without parents. and i grew. and i changed. and
i left things behind. when i left college it was more purposeful.
i could see the era changing. i knew i needed to shed my old self.
to become new again. so i gave it all away and left.
i am a new person now. with a new name. and a new
life. the only art i own is that which ive created in the past
two months. my memories lie on the road. my brothers those who
travel. who i travelled with. i am poor. working class. i used
to dress up in a myriad of outfits. now i wear one. all black.
all the time. my life has changed. and i with it. and i can never
regret that. and i can never take it back. had i not. i would
not be me. and i would have mourned the opportunity spent.
i am still attached to the person i once was. i still
have his feelings. his memories. but they are not as much a part
of me as they once were. some. when i was sorting through my life.
last october. waiting to leave. some i chose to carry over into
my new life. some i chose to forget. memories fade though. i try
to hold on to those of my home. my many homes. but all is lost
sometimes. this city is now mine. and i belong to it. and it is
all i remember. (except in those moments).
# # #
It becomes an effort to force oneself to write. To
force oneself to create, to paint, to do. One must have a lot
of balls to grab the bull by the horn and challenge the world.
I've challenged the world, yes, but I've crept back into my shell.
I must learn to challenge everything. Like the woman who sits
at the table writing. You want to get to know her, but you sit
here quietly alone. You devise plans to introduce yourself. You
picture it in your mind. You may even get up and start walking
towards her. But inevitably you keep walking past. She never meets
you. You never meet her. The opportunity is gone and only regret
lingers. More people regret what they haven't done in life than
what they have. To try is at least something. Failure is a lesson.
But if you never try, you are left with nothing. Simple nothing.
# # #
this one thing. you will remember it. wont you. very
important. one of the most important. remember the yin and yang.
and what they mean. and in that you will always find good. and
in that you will always find evil. one is where the other is.
they exist only by the contrast of the other. so no how evil it
looks. deep inside. scattered throughout. the good. the only way.
the contrast. all good. all evil. balanced. you never escape.
oppression here. freedom there. and some good will come from the
oppression. and some bad from the freedom. this is a universal
truth. thousands of years old by man. billions of years old by
earth. before the first thing became conscious of the circle.
the yin and yang were there. and until everything stops. always.
seek truth in every falsity and lies in every truth. for it is
the only absolute truth. the exception to the rule that is never
broken. do not seek to understand at once. understanding will
come in time. but accept. and question. for there are no questions
without answers. and no answers without questions.
what philosophical bullshit. unfortunately its true.
[The note in the margin here says: no answers without
questions - simple acceptance will not breed understanding. only
intense questioning will prove this true to the one who seeks
to understand. and in looking hell see the answer given is correct.
and hell understand.]
"Study nothing except in the knowledge that you already knew it.
Worship nothing except in adoration of your true self. And fear
nothing except in the certainty that you are your enemy's begetter
and its only hope of healing."
Clive Barker, Imagica
# # #
a wall. long ago that was a good analogy. wasnt it
adam. now i think that has past. more of a great window that separates
me from my past. i look back. and view it through the panes. as
if it was someone elses. as if it was a painting. as if it was
on tv. distanced. my past recedes from me. i live now. here now.
now.
# # #
the quiet parrot told me of a man. a great indian
chief named thundercloud. he had come upon him by a lake in the
delaware valley. and he went to the mans hut. and drank tea with
him. and thundercloud asked him. have you ever talked to the animals.
he paused and in his knowing way answered before giving the man
a chance to answer. i think you have. i remember the first time
i talked to the animals. my father had brought me to a zoo. and
it was feeding time. and all the buffalo were fighting to get
their place in the trough. but this big bully of a bull had pushed
his way through and was having it all to himself. so i looked
at him and said hey you. and he raised his head from the trough.
hey you. come over here. and the bull trotted over to the fence
where i was. and i looked at him and told him. youd better get
back over there before they eat it all up. and he turned away
and trotted back to the trough. later on he asked me. have you
ever travelled among the spirits. and once again in his knowing
way. he always answered his own question in this way you see.
in his knowing way he answered himself. i think you have. one
night in my dreams i came about a place. inside was my father
and his friends sitting about smoking the peace pipe. and i entered
and sat down next to him. he looked over. it is not time for you
to be here. i stood up and left. several times after that i returned
to this dreamplace. now i go there often. and i sit next to my
father. and i smoke the peace pipe with him and his friends.
the quiet parrot told these stories as if they were
his own. his english accent inspiring a magic in the words. at
the end he told me where to find thundercloud. and i wrote it
down. and i remember it. and someday i will meet him. and listen.
to the stories. to the magic.
# # #
if you ever have only five dollars, advertise. and
i once told someone that given five hundred dollars and a month
to make myself famous, i could. so here i am with that five hundred
dollars almost spent and my month almost over. and if no one comes
tonight. tomorrow. ill be fading into obscurity.
but i didnt really start with five hundred dollars
and my month was too occupied with trying to find a way to live
than making myself famous. but theyre all excuses. i failed. but
i learned a lot. i cant sell for one. i thought i could. if it
was my own stuff. because i could advertise. but selling is different
from advertising. and i cant sell.
but with any luck ill be given a second chance. tomorrow
i apply for general assistance. and my father offered me a studio
and a gallery in his store. i could live at my parents house and
not worry about trying to live. this time i could do it right.
but though im tempted. i want to do this on my own. and i dont
want to live with my parents. so i wait here tonight. tomorrow.
until im starving on the streets. or making a living off my art.
so no one can say i gave up too soon. because living on the streets
is far better than giving up something i believe in. ive lived
on the streets before.
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