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Monthly Archives: May 2013

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I walked down a drunken road
just shy of closing time
the playground silent and bare
without children chasing cats
or mothers chasing children
like before

I walked down a drunken road
where unsteady men stood spitting
pavement slick with road wash water
trading glances, laying an ogle —

I walked down a drunken road
counting the moths under lamplights
glowing orange in the faded morning,
missing five faces, remembering a hundred —

I walked down a drunken road
thinking about my friend
her dead grandma
They’re gettin’ old, they’re gettin’ bad
but I’m all right, don’t you worry
I still see dawn everyday
___I still eat toast with my juice

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photo
Currently writing:

  1. Issue No. 1’s Letter to the Readers
  2. Two features in the Learning section
  3. #61 (a short story)

Currently reading:

  1. 김애란 – ‘침묵의 미래’
  2. 박완서 – ‘친절한 복희씨’
  3. Kerouac – On the Road
  4. Hemingway – A Moveable Feast
  5. Solzhenitsyn – One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

——

My best friend is in law school and he generally dislikes it. When he’s not studying, he gets stoned and writes me lengthy emails about his pot-induced epiphanies, rating each one on a “highness” scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the “highest” he thinks he could get. Whenever the rating exceeds 5, I am wary, because the higher he is, the more insipid the contents.

His most recent email, however, was different and strangely enough, unrated. It was autobiographical, and it made me feel things: concern, curiosity, potential. There was potential for some kind of discovery there.

In it, he presented an argument for his self-diagnosed identity crisis that went more or less like this: I am my accomplishments. I lose my potential accomplishments to competitors more successful than I. And when I do, I lose myself.

Instead of pursuing his dreams, he becomes reclusive and spends most nights smoking up and experimenting with his drugs. Averaging only 3 to 4 hours of sleep a day, he lives on various substances that keep him awake.

He’s actually successful in his studies and career — he’d pass for any respectable law student — but as with most of us, he feels something lacking.

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It was just a misdirected arrow, you know. What can I say? Bull’s-eye grew legs and inched to the side. And all I could see, in the center, was goodbye. 

Because there are eleven hellos and goodbyes in a single meeting of our eyes. I said hello, it’s been a long time. You said why yes, hello, I must say so. You look the same. D’you feel the same? I don’t know, I don’t feel any different. I do. Why is that? Because I saw what I didn’t wanna see. 

What did you see? I saw that look you gave that child whining about his broken soldier. I saw the way you looked away when I was honest with you. I didn’t mean to be that way. Of course not. Who does? What I mean is — there’s no need, I no longer think about it; I don’t feel it anymore. But — really, it’s all right. What is it but a bygone parting? 

You’re staring out the window. Hello, there — what are you looking at? Everything. Did you have a nice time? Yes, very nice. I wish I were still there. Yeah, I know. I have work to do. I know. Are you going to stay for coffee? I wonder if you will, if you want to. I don’t know if I want you to. 

If you don’t mind. Hey, remember that day we called in sick because it was raining and we wanted to keep the lights out and watch a movie? Of course. Hello, soggy memories — goodbye, I have no words for you. The usual? Yes. So what have you been doing? 

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For light, easy work 😉

 

 

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