Posts from the ‘Moods’ Category
nothing is more glorious in childhood than ice cream in the summer.
some of my friends’ friends, they keep talking about wanting to get a better car than the one they have. but me, i don’t even have a car. i like to think i can afford it but really i can’t. i eat three times a day and go out to lunch at least once a week, but i can’t afford a car. where am i going to park it? whose going to pay for the insurance? with all those crazy drivers out there and the teenagers now they just hit my car after a few weeks and then i won’t be able to drive it. what then. then i’ll be paying for a car that doesn’t work. that’s the last thing i need right now with the economy the way it is. some of my friends friends don’t have jobs so i don’t know where they are getting the money but probably from rich uncles or something. that’s the only thing that could explain it because me i’ve got a good job, no a great job at the dumpling house. i work maybe nine hours a day, starting with the lunch shift. we go pretty hard those few hours then we slow down then pick up again right around 5:30. i get to meet lots of people. people from the neighborhood. tourists. the young ones. and i get to eat on the house so none of my money goes wasted to food. i keep my expenses low. and sometimes in the summers, i get picked to work overtime for the weddings. and that’s when i make some good money. i make time a half.
you know you want what i got right here.
when i was younger, all my friends either wanted to be the next daryl strawberry or the next axl rose or the c.e.o. of disney. but me, i didn’t find any of that too appealing. i wanted to be a car and not just any car, but a full-size luxury sedan like a lincoln towncar. the thing that got me about the lincoln were the seats. it’s real leather in there made in the united states and not the kind of stuff they make the shoes out of at payless shoe source. real american leather makes a difference. i have thirteen lincoln towncars at home. i keep four in my garage, three in my backyard, three in the living room, and two in my kitchen. the ones in my house i don’t drive. i hire three guys from ecuador to rub the leather inside with cocoa butter every other day. every night before i go to sleep, i go inside one of my town cars and close my eyes and think of myself floating down fifth avenue, past the taxis and the stupid tourists and the buildings.
i don’t think growing up now is easier than before. i think the old people make it seem it was harder when they were our age. but they didn’t have as many choices as us. you know opportunities to fuck up in a real bad way, not just like getting yelled at by your neighbors kind of thing. we don’t have room to run around. and when you don’t have room to run around, you start running in your own shit and i think that makes a lot of us a little off. i remember in an early stage in my life where i believed that i was lion. i actually thought i was a lion with the mane and the big whiskers and the sharp teeth, and i walked around like i was the king. but there was this guy, Wulabi, i remember him saying to me, “you are not different than me, man.” i thought he was bullshit at first but then i stopped eating the food for a few days and found a really clean spot to lay in when they’re weren’t watching. and that point man, i realized i wasn’t outside, in the desert somewhere hunting gazelle and zebras and shit. i was inside a building on 3510 3rd avenue. all of us were there, just standing around, eating our own shit man for real and then later being led down a row of gates. and then we were separated one by one but i could smell everyone around me. i heard yelling and screaming. and then something came on my temples like a shot of lightening that just numbed everything into a myriad of involuntary movements.
they don’t make them like they used to.
we fix what the adjustment bureau fucks up.
tonight i wanna dance with someone else
try some.
being part of the organization that works for one of the most powerful people in history is not all fun and games and reindeers. all that stuff with the books and movies and the candy canes? that right there is public relations. i’m part of the special operations division. wiretapping. extraditions. confidential informants. the stuff we don’t need we send it over to our contacts in the government. i’ve been an agent for about six months. everyone starts out in surveillance on soft targets. people in the subway or in the supermarkets, that kind of thing. we’re looking for anything unusual, things that would suggest a deliberate intention to prevaricate or just to generally harass others. i’m still a bit new so i write everything down on my lists. shoe size. new jacket vs. used jacket. my editor says he’ll shorten it for our final report to the GLORIOUS DEAR MAN WE KNOW AND LOVE, and that with my attention to detail, i’ll soon be able to do higher tasks that involve even more important lists. i owe everything to the GLORIOUS DEAR MAN WE KNOW AND LOVE.
e v e r y d a y aperture 