I told you something that happened to me once,I'm sure you've
forgotten it by now. Briefly I'll give it to you again.
I was staying at my parents' apartment, it was during the day, I was
there alone. Very frustrated, feeling persecuted and isolated. The
daughter of the woman next door, Polly, came over. She wasn't beautiful
in a physical sense, she seemed intelligent, I don't know much of what
her life had been before then. She came in, I offered her some tea. And
we sat for a while and made light conversation. She brushed my leg at one
point with her foot. I had so much armor on, so many filters running, and
I was so burnt from being on the road, and out in the world, and what
that meant to me then, I hardly registered her gesture. Later that
afternoon after working out on the high school track, and coming home and
angrily muttering my unhappiness to the air, I went out into the
courtyard of the apartment building, leaned against a wall in the sun and
quietly just sat. There was a noise, a muffled kind of sound, not a thud,
or a bang, hard to describe, especially now. I didn't think much about it
at the moment. Later I went out to the river and played my guitar. When I
got back my mother was home and said they had found Polly, her mother had
found her. She had put a derringer to her head and pulled the trigger,
right on the other side of the wall from me, while I sat there in the sun.
I really don't think too highly of people who mindlessly repeat what
they've been told, that no one can be responsible for anyone else's reality.
Fuck that. And fuck anybody who says that. Including you. I can't say
that here with the intensity I feel. I completely despise people who
think that way.





posted by Juke at 11:21 PM [edit]