"Once more into the breech we go..."
Mar. 31st, 2005 10:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonBomb flash across my room, yellow flash bulb bursts and burns sudden attention into the retinas. Split second recoil, and the house rumbles with the shock waves off a thunderclap. Echo fades to silence, but I know its coming, I can feel it in the air, building up and coming down, here it is- white noise barrage, rain pummeling the roof, 10 million fingers tapping nervously along the roof. I lay there in bed, blacks sheets twisted around the thighs, arms crushing pillows into submission. I close my eyes. The rain bursts through, shatters the long rows of wooden beams and joists into splinters, flashflood, my bed floating like some improvised raft from a childrens story. The CDs and books suddnely lily pads as fat savage frogs leap from old Philosophy text books to burnt comps for the club. I can see a small school of prehistoric fish have made a home in my sunken boots, a giant eel slithers and curls around the drowned Atlantis of my mixer and decks. I look out the window as the sky fills the cup of the Earth up, the dirt is thirsty for the mud.
-----
Soaking wet from the chest down, umbrella outgunned and catching its breath at my side, running late, station stranded and nothing to do but rehearse my lines, like some vagrant madman, muttering and shouting the molotov epiphanies of half a bottle ofMad Dog 20/20. Across the platform, they stand united in their disgust at the spectacle i've become,but look at them- men and women of all classes, races and disposistions, all shaking their heads to themselves and cursing that God Damn NorthSprings for subjecting them to these drug induced ravings before work. But at least I have given them common cause, a sense of temporary togetherness that breaks the indifferent silence. I see them whisper and laugh, one of them holds up their cellphone in my direction, looking like a priest holding back a pack of vampires with the power of his cross, but in reality he's just some gawker, the kind of idiot who given the opportunity most slow down on the highway to take in a car wreck, drunk on the horror of other peoples lives. I smile for that cell phone photo. An ugly smile to be sure, but there never the less, a white flag and peace pipe all at the same time. This throws of my reluctant audience,it yanks the mask of their assumptions off me and my naked face no longer burns with madness or desperation, but just the same befuddled cow gaze of the rest of them. Shows over foks, but wait, whats this, someone was trying to smoke a cigarette down the distant end of the platform. The criminal has been identified by a several MARTA personnell who have suddenly teleported in around the corners, coordinating their hunt of this most foul chain smoking beast that has stumbled onto their small neck of the woods. The guy catches on. He cups his hand around the smoke, tugs down across the brow his beaten up Falcons hat, and huddles himself into his puffy blue and silver coat. But to no avail. Their moving in on him, chant barking "SIR... SIR.. CAN I TALK TO YOU FOR A MINUTE SIR? SIR!" He pockets the butt, glances around and starts for the stairs to the exit to the street, he's only a few yards from freedom, but the bastards are closing in on him, he makes the first steps in a leap, but now there's a uniformed man mountain standing up at the top, arms folded, the angriest black man in the world, shaved head and shaking his head 'No' at the nicotine fugitive. The man bolts back down, cell phone guy is trying to snap a shot, "Oh boy" he must be thinking "Whadda Scoop!". But a wave of steel walls and plastic windows roars by me, the North Springs finally arrives, and I go back to memorizing my lines.
...............
..............
Four days and counting....
-----
Soaking wet from the chest down, umbrella outgunned and catching its breath at my side, running late, station stranded and nothing to do but rehearse my lines, like some vagrant madman, muttering and shouting the molotov epiphanies of half a bottle ofMad Dog 20/20. Across the platform, they stand united in their disgust at the spectacle i've become,but look at them- men and women of all classes, races and disposistions, all shaking their heads to themselves and cursing that God Damn NorthSprings for subjecting them to these drug induced ravings before work. But at least I have given them common cause, a sense of temporary togetherness that breaks the indifferent silence. I see them whisper and laugh, one of them holds up their cellphone in my direction, looking like a priest holding back a pack of vampires with the power of his cross, but in reality he's just some gawker, the kind of idiot who given the opportunity most slow down on the highway to take in a car wreck, drunk on the horror of other peoples lives. I smile for that cell phone photo. An ugly smile to be sure, but there never the less, a white flag and peace pipe all at the same time. This throws of my reluctant audience,it yanks the mask of their assumptions off me and my naked face no longer burns with madness or desperation, but just the same befuddled cow gaze of the rest of them. Shows over foks, but wait, whats this, someone was trying to smoke a cigarette down the distant end of the platform. The criminal has been identified by a several MARTA personnell who have suddenly teleported in around the corners, coordinating their hunt of this most foul chain smoking beast that has stumbled onto their small neck of the woods. The guy catches on. He cups his hand around the smoke, tugs down across the brow his beaten up Falcons hat, and huddles himself into his puffy blue and silver coat. But to no avail. Their moving in on him, chant barking "SIR... SIR.. CAN I TALK TO YOU FOR A MINUTE SIR? SIR!" He pockets the butt, glances around and starts for the stairs to the exit to the street, he's only a few yards from freedom, but the bastards are closing in on him, he makes the first steps in a leap, but now there's a uniformed man mountain standing up at the top, arms folded, the angriest black man in the world, shaved head and shaking his head 'No' at the nicotine fugitive. The man bolts back down, cell phone guy is trying to snap a shot, "Oh boy" he must be thinking "Whadda Scoop!". But a wave of steel walls and plastic windows roars by me, the North Springs finally arrives, and I go back to memorizing my lines.
...............
..............
Four days and counting....
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From one Aries to another...
on 2005-03-31 04:52 pm (UTC)