Friday, July 5, 2013
3 minutes. Go!
We look at the world from tiny screens that cut out the context. I am sitting and listening to the birds and the bad banda music, and I wish the birds had sub-woofers. They try though. They sing their guts out. But I like banda, too. I'm not talking shit. I can barely even see you from behind the little screen. I have a slow, dying animal where my brain should be. I picture it, ape-like, flinging its shit in desperation, hoping that some of it will hit the right person. Flailing. You look at me, and I can see the sadness in your eyes. We will not handle our grieving the same way. None of us will. It will be one more thing to drive us all apart. To put a wedge where the humanity used to be. Just make sure you slam that thing in good, I don't know if I could handle it otherwise.