It’s not what you think but think you know. 6

Curiosity was to her, as flammable as kerosene, for she had been blessed with a spirit ignited through insight.  For safety reasosns she felt it best to wear blinders when guiding herself through the chaos of an afterthought. Often she would realize then, that what was being sold as necessity, was better off to wait on the discount before being bought. Nothing new under the sun, was a cliche she heard often but could live without. Saving for a rainy day though, often kept her with her head in the clouds. For she still had no idea how it was actually possible to buy a slice of life with bitcoin.

 

It’s not what you think but think you know. 5

 

 

It always struck her as weird, how people from other planets were portrayed in films made here on Earth. That humans beings were portrayed in ways to be different than these so called “aliens”. Epecially when it came to worshipping some sort of diety or making sacrifices to one god or another. It all seemed just like another version of diversion. Self-deprecating dogma always made her uncomfortable and it seemed to her that humans held the copyright to all of that. She wondered why the fuck was she sitting through another one of these films. She knew that it was her boyfriends fault that she was there. Her boyfriend who would laugh at the screen and say out loud things like, “these creatures are fools, fanatics, who should not be allowed to exist,” These comments made her quite uncomfortable and slide down in her seat. Meanwhile as the rest of the audience would cheer the destruction of some foriegn world, she would chew upon popcorn wondering if they realized that the “aliens” were no different than they were and that it was other so-called humans who wrote the lines of propaganda that the “aliens” were saying. Fiction being portrayed as fact was for the moral majority, where it was at. And she was growing ever more so concerned about why her boyfriend kept dragging them back.

It’s not what you think but think you know. 4

 

It was embarassing enough to run into his ex while on a first date with a possible new love interest but sitting there sweating in the cafe with a piece of advice stuck between his teeth and without a toothpick was just a bit too much. When he asked the waiteress for a toothpick she said, sorry but “do to the de-forestation of the rainforest we no longer stock toothpicks.” He figured that asking if they might have a plastic toothpick, would be futile. So, while his date smiled patiently, trying not to inflate an increasingly awkward moment (her own bowels seemed to not appreciate the dairy from the tiramisu they had just shared), he dug with a fork between his two front teeth trying to dislodge the goddamn piece of advice. The piece of advice he knew that when his best-friend had dropped it in his lap should have been ignored or brushed off onto the floor. But his friend had persisted and made him put it in his backpocket, just in case. When the conversation during the date had hit a lull and without thinking it through he had pulled it out. Only to have said adivce get stuck inbetween his two front teeth, right at the moment when they had been sharing the goddamn tiramisu. Strangely enough, the possibility of intercourse hadn’t left either one of their minds the whole time that he dug and she squirmed.

 

It’s not what you think but think you know 3

If grey is not a color, than black and white have lost their way.  It was just this one simple persepectief that was scribbled in black Sharpie pen across his wall.  It hadn’t been there before he had gone out, hadn’t been there in the morning when he woke up and had not been there on his wall for the previous six years he had been living there.  But when he came home from work, with the burrito in his backpack and the sixpack in his hand, it was the first thing he noticed when he turned on the lights.  

 

Sitting there on the couch, burrito in hand, beer by his side, with CNN on mute, he re-read the statement over and over till he fell asleep; as usual with food on his face and politics on his mind.

 

It’s not what you think but think you know 2

 

It’s not what you think but think you know

 

That going from close friend to casual acquaintance never really sat well with him.  But it happened time after time in the relationships in his life.  He was never looking to place blame on either side of these friendship that had grown distant, just curious about how they had evolved and then dissipated into half smiles.  Maybe it was that he was eager and open at the start of each new interaction he made.  Willing to give himself over, his best foot forward, unafraid of what to do or say.  Could bet hat this all-in at the beginning was not sustainable over an extended period of time.  It was also possible that the other person involved in this relationship tango was just not as interested in being a long-term dance partner.  Was there a wrong or right to just casually grinding one another on the metaphorical dance floor of life, for just one night?  To then just move on to the next club in the spectrum of time, of life.  Swinging single in the city of lights…

 

The waitress brought him his tuna-melt on rye with a side order of coleslaw.  When she put it down in front of him and said “enjoy your meal” without any attempt at eye contact, he said “thank you,” without wondering why.

 

It’s not what you think but think you know

It’s not what you think but think you know

The attention span needed to read an entire article, be it in the newspaper spread out before him on the table or calling out to be clicked upon on his phone, had long ago evaporated.  Short attention span, lack of interest and just poor journalistic skills were the reasons he held onto.  Each one he felt had played a role in killing off his interest in reading.  Which of the three was actually more to blame than the other was of little importance to him.  He knew that these three factures together made sense to him in his world.  A world where he used to indulge himself in countless magazine articles, ones ranging from music to health, world and local cultural events, to the randome occurrences of life itself.  Today, as they say, he couldn’t be bothered.  Been there, read that, he would say to himself.  The same stories hashed up and hash tagged.  Sometimes he thought that it was just his own brain refusing to process any more information than necessary.  Like a clothing dryer whose centrifuge is full, the clothing won’t get dry till the filter is emptied.  His brain like an over wet sponge that could no longer retain information.  When the waitress found the puddle on table, the cash tip and the newspapers upon it soaking wet, she looked towards the ceiling. She then called for the manager to make sure that the pipes to the toilet on the floor above, had not sprung another leak.

 

A city radiates something special as its inhabitants sleep.

 

A city radiates something special as its inhabitants sleep.

The sounds of morning alarms ring out from

the overpriced houses lining

the small streets of a charming city.

A city that takes a deep breath

every morning

before its inhabitants wake up.

A city that quietly says, in a voice that

maybe only dogs can hear,

go on, go ahead

go ahead and just snooze a little longer

and let us early birds enjoy the peace and quiet

hovering over the otherwise empty and quiet streets

for just a few minutes more.