Friday
Poetic Examinations Regarding the Metaphysics of Guidelines in Critical Theory, pt. 2
Poetic
Examinations Regarding the Metaphysics of Guidelines in Critical
Theory, pt. 2
“The band keeps almost starting.”
I'm sitting in a bar about to watch a
band, and there are things people say.
It's really just the band
sound-checking, but everyone is cued to beginnings.
When we are offered something to pay
attention to, it is difficult to ignore.
I can stare at an empty wall for hours
and hours in silence, it does me no good.
How do you feel when you are confronted
with emptiness?
How much of your life do you actually
remember? Boil it down to a percentage.
I imagine my percentage is something
like 1-2% but this seems real.
Ask me what day I wrote this and I will
shrug.
When did you read this? You will
probably shrug.
In 31 years, I learned not much.
One day, something will stick out in
your mind. Even though you don't know the exact points and facts and
times of what you did yesterday, something will ingrain itself into
your brain with such clarity that you will never forget every atom of
the event for as long as you live. And in the vast blur of life maybe
there is a dream you had, maybe there is a random conversation you
had and never met that person again, maybe you were so stunned that
someone would dare treat you that way that they did, or maybe you
were so stunned that you could have it in you to do that thing you
did.
That's what's real, and this only seems
real.
“The world is everything that is the
case.”
Every memory you can hold on to is a
beginning, and we are
Tuesday
a poem and a short story by Alexandra Naughton
sad story #4
I want to ask I don’t want to ask but I want to tell I don’t want to tell I need to show you I don’t need to do anything
life is really just a series of pressures and scenarios in which to embarrass oneself
I make my bones exposing myself
making bones
I have nothing to achieve from holding it
I have little to squander from embracing it
some apologist’s respect
I am trained for this
have it harnessed so sexy
sad story #8
am I special oh my god why do I always do this like torturing myself but I want to be validated in a sensitive way I mean I don’t need it to survive or even function or feel good but if you’re going to occupy like this I’d like to feel a similar impact because otherwise what’s the point. my affections are capitalist. writing this in a notebook in fat sweeping lettering but it looks clean and almost in lines almost like I have decent handwriting I guess I’m calm because what if this is only legible to myself but I am confident a stranger could find this notebook and read my every thought as if it were printed but maybe not I have terrible handwriting haha I write that in a letter to you or you write that in yours and I guess we’re both so self conscious or maybe it’s just me I guess it’s always just me but I really can’t tell. keep pressing that little button on the side to see if you’ve replied to the message I sent to you itself a reply to something you texted me writing we’re always talking about writing it’s like the only way we can talk about sex because they’re almost the same thing especially when it’s frustrating.
sitting on my feet. my cat is next to me and we’re listening to Turn on the Bright Lights. I loved this in high-school but now I associate it with another time in my life riding the bus trash bags full of clothes up steep streets and leaning forward to stay balanced to keep everything from falling out. it’s comforting in a grimy way. alone besides my cat and I don’t mind it I actually like it I mean I like being with friends but not all the time. like time to sit in bed or at my desk with my cat and it eats at me when I can’t have this like I wish I could quit my job.
but seriously or just anyone. like can you tell me but I don’t need you to say anything I just want to say it to you to kill it you don’t even have to look at me but I tend to do this with so many questions I want to say but don’t want to know the answers to. wonder if things were different like I wish I had given myself some time like at my desk or in my bed with my cat. Jesus Christ. sometimes I find myself in a near catatonic state I don’t know if that really is what it is but it’s kind of like that hot tub scene in Ferris Bueller and I just sit and can’t move not even my head or my hands and I think about doing something like standing up or rolling a spliff but not even that I am really just staring at some odd point on the wall like a picture of Al Pacino or the bottom blind in the row and I wish I had a plan.
in the bathroom I stand in front of the sink and look in the mirror open my mouth and grimace and notice something I ate in one of my bottom teeth did anyone else see this I pick up the green handled toothbrush and clean up looking around the bathroom looking at the pair of old underwear in the trash the ones with the birds that I bought in high-school that I kept way longer than I should more holes than fabric faint blood stains I can’t wear these or show them to anyone and they even feel dingy when I wear them so what’s the point. looking at my teeth again I think of a song lyric for an emo band and think about writing it down spit and leave the bathroom and look inside my notebook reading the last line I wrote and immediately forget what I wanted to write down.
walking on the beach insects buzzing in my eyes a dead raccoon something in the water that I think is an animal swimming or bobbing up and down but it really just a large rock the water splashes over broken glass in the sand the train tracks just to the left with the commuter train coming quick around the bend almost out of nowhere how I thought about parking on Carlotta street and calling it in my head the whole time mad Carlotta street how I almost instinctually walked toward the tracks just before the train to put out a cigarette how I thought about how if the train had caught me you might be sad for a little while but not long probably and I wouldn’t want you to be but I think I would want you to remember me.
Thursday
Tuesday
Patti examines
herself in the mirror as she brushes her teeth early on Saturday morning. She woke
up feeling fatter than she’d ever felt before. She sucks in her gut and analyzes
her body from different angles as she vigorously scrubs. “I can’t suck in my
thighs,” she thinks to herself disappointedly, spitting into the sink.
She’s fatter
than she was two years ago, she’s certain of that. Her hips are wider, but her
ass is still pretty flat. She dreads being one of those girls with wide hips and a flat ass. Her pot belly, which she
once considered cute -- and had even been complemented on by a former lover –
is now out of control. She vows not to eat for the rest of the day, but almost
immediately starts thinking about breakfast.
Her bathroom leads
into a loft space, furnished with a shelf, coffee table, fold out couch, and a
portable record player in the corner with about ten or so LPs stacked next to
it. She flips through the stack until she finds two copies of the album
“Electric Warrior.” It’s her favorite record of all time. Her ex-boyfriend,
Charles, had given her the newer of the two copies after the old one had worn
out from repeated listening (since then, she only listens to the album on her
iTunes).
It had been a
gift for her birthday one year after they had broken up. It’s now two and a
half years since the breakup. She opens the gatefold. A note from Charles slips
out.
Patti
periodically reads this letter when she’s feeling low. At the time, she thought
it was a sign that Charles still thought about her and maybe even wanted to get
back together. But the absolute silence one and a half years later make sit
seem likelier that he has moved on.
Fast-forward
six hours into the future….
Patti sits at
an outdoor café in Le Marais district of Paris. She’s chain-smoking cigarettes
and sips on red wine as her nine-euro restaurant ticket burns a hole in her
purse. She sits and people-watches until an attractive redhead in his mid to
late twenties, impeccably dressed, holding hands with a chimpanzee comes
walking by.
The chimp is
unmistakably famous. It’s Zappy, the movie star chimp who’s played the role of
Ham (the first chimpanzee ever launched into space) in the critically acclaimed
drama One Small Step for Simian. He’s
the first ever non-human nominated for an Academy Award (best supporting role),
a distinction she’s certain he’s unable to fully grasp the importance of.
Nevertheless,
she’s more intrigued by the ape’s companion, who seems to be her ideal type. The redhead pauses for a second to
chat with a waiter in French, a language she does not understand.
Her interest
piques as the redhead and chimp walk away. She rushes to the waiter and asks
(in English), “Excuse me, but who was that?”
“With Antoine?”
the waiter asks in an astonished tone.
“No, with
Zappy. He’s cute!”
The waiter’s
face contorts. “La seule raison pour
laquelle Antoine a attiré l'attention de cette fille, c'est parce qu'il avait
ce gorille avec lui,” he thinks to himself angrily.
#
# #
Is this really happening
to me? Asks Clothilde to herself. The man knows exactly who I am. How does he
sit there and lie in a court of law?
“It is well-known in the sports and
entertainment industry, particularly in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area,
that [Clohe] recruits women to work for her and provide sexual favors to
athletes or other entertainer[s] in exchange for money,” Prince said in court
documents.
Not even her own friend Patti believes her. They
have broken off communication. He fucking served as his own defense, for crying
out loud!
Clohe: Mr. Stöckel, you said that you did not know me on a friendship level. Is it true that I have, that I have or have not been to your home?
Stöckel: You’ve never been to my house. You’ve dropped someone off, a teammate to my house but that was it.
Clohe: I’ve never stayed the night at your home?
Stöckel: You’ve never stayed at my house ever. Ever.
Clohe: I’ve never been in your recording studio at your home?
Stöckel: No. You’ve never been—like I’m not going to, I don’t know how—
Clohe: So we never hung out at your house and stayed the night over there . . . and watched episodes of Martin before.
Stöckel: You’ve never, ever stayed at my house. You’ve been at Charles’s house, [former University of Miami wide receiver] Charles Branson, that’s another teammate of mine. You’re naming things that we’ve done over his house. He has a studio in his house. He has all those things that you’re talking about. I mean, as far as you coming to my house, you dropped someone off.
Clohe: Was there ever, was there ever a time that you and I were both at Charles’s house together?
Stöckel: Yes you’ve been there. You’re friends with him. Yes.
Clohe cross-examination of Stöckel, April 10, 2012
Clohe: Well, let’s look at your document. It says December the 3rd, 2012. What’s today’s date, Mr. Stöckel?
Stöckel: I don’t know. I don’t know.
Clohe: What’s the date of today?
Stöckel: I don’t know what today is. All I know is I had court today.
Clohe: You don’t know what today’s date is? His document is not even valid.
Stöckel: What are you talking about? . . .
Clohe: Well, according to your statement, to bullet No. 5, it says that this event happened December 3rd, 2012.
Stöckel: Okay, and, what about it?
Clohe: Has December 3rd, 2012 even happened yet?
Stöckel: What?
Clohe: What? That’s the same thing I’m saying, Mr. Stöckel.
Stöckel: It was a misprint. Okay, December 3rd, 2011, okay, great.
Clohe: You signed an official document that you turned into the court—
Stöckel: With the wrong date, okay, all right.
Clohe: Stating that this incident happened on this date when there’s no such thing.
Stöckel: Okay, it’s a misprint.
Clohe: There’s no such event that could have ever happened on December the 3rd, 2012.
Stöckel: A misprint, okay.
Clohe: It’s not valid.
Stöckel: It is a misprint. It is a misprint.
Clohe cross-examination of Stöckel on February 11, 2012
Clohe: Also, Mr. Stöckel, you said that once that the liquid was thrown at you in the club that your eyes were, were burning.
Stöckel: Yes.
Clohe: However, you returned less than three minutes later to throw the drink on me. So if your eyes were burning and you were that much of a, of a victim, why didn’t you leave the club?
Stöckel: Well, because I mean, first of all it was my [birthday] party. If anything, you should have had to leave because it was my party and I mean, like, like I’m supposed to be having a good time. Second of all, it don’t take that long to rub liquor out of your face. I mean it took me about two or three minutes to get my eyes like right. Like wow, I still was blurry vision and my eyes were still burning that night for the whole night. After that, I was like, well, shoot, that’s crazy, that’s messed up, so after that I grabbed the juice and I poured it on you. That was it.
Clohe: So if your eyes were burning, why didn’t you seek medical attention as I have—
Stöckel: Because—
Clohe: —for my, my injury from you?
Stöckel: I don’t have any personal vendetta. I don’t have any personal reason to get money out of you, I mean, like for what? Why would I do that? I can take care of myself. I don’t need to seek medical attention, I’m getting Lasik eye surgery, yeah, but other than that, I’m not going to try to make you pay for it. Why? I don’t, I wouldn’t even give you the satisfaction, so.
Clohe: Let’s look at these photos right here. Because I went to college. I go back to my homecoming every year. Why? Because a building on the campus named after a family of my family.
Stöckel: So, they use a pimp cup, that’s all.
Clohe: Mr. Stöckel, I’m drinking out of a decorated accessory as many celebrities do.
Stöckel: Many celebrities as who, Magic Don Juan that’s a pimp?
Clohe: As Paris Hilton, as Snoop Dog, as Little John—I work with celebrities. Don’t you think it could have been a gift from one of them?
Clohe cross-examination of Stöckel, April 10, 2012
Stöckel: But as it shows, you also have your hands on his genitals. I mean, why would you take a picture like that?
Clohe: I do not. Let’s look closely at the exhibit right here, Judge. Where is my hand placed in this exhibit?
Judge: I don’t answer questions, Ms. Clohe.
Clohe: Oh, sorry.
Judge: The witness does.
Clohe: Can you tell me where my hand is actually at in this photo?
Stöckel: It looks like it’s in the genitals to me. I mean your hands are on his genitals. Your hand is on his—
Clohe: Objection.
Clothilde looks into the mirror with fatigued eyes. They look hoary underneath the fluorescent bulb. Lassitude grips her right arm as she reaches up for the razor blade from the cabinet. She thinks to herself that this is the right way out of this trial mess.
---
Frederick
Ingo Stöckel can
remember that New York summer, many years ago, when he first met Patti. Omar
was a generous friend to say the least. Setting 2005, Forest Hills Queens:O: Might I ask just what the fuck was that?
F: Huh?
O: Don’t play dumb, you know what you did.
F: I’m not following you.
O: Like hell you’re not.
Holding hands with Patti last night? Right in the middle of the fucking
restaurant in front of everyone?
F: This is about Patti?
O: Damn right this about
Patti. How the hell could you put me--
F: Bro relax--
O: Relax? You want me to
relax after everything I’ve done for you?
F: Listen, you know I
appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You know that. You know you’re like a
brother to me.
O: Bullshit! Bullshit, I’m
like a brother to you. Brothers don’t put other brothers in such awkward
situations.
F: Look I’m sorry, but I
just don’t see what was so awkward about dinner.
O: Don’t play dumb; she’s
only 17.
F: If Patti wants to hold
hands with me, who am I to tell her she can’t?
O: Are you fucking
serious?
F: Bro, I’m not doing
anything. It’s Patti. If she wants to hold hands with me, I think I’d be a real
asshole to deny her that.
O: You’re being a real
asshole anyway.
F: Come on bro, you don’t
mean that. I love you, man. You know that. I love everybody. I just think I’d
be a real jerk to withhold my love from someone just because other people are
uptight about it.
O: Uptight? My uncle wants
you dead.
F: That’s just
unfortunate.
O: I have to live with
this shit. Do you realize what kind of position this puts me in?
F: Look bro, if you just
tell me that you don’t want me to hold hands with your cousin in front of him,
that’s fine. I won’t ever do it again in front of him.
O: You’re totally missing
the point. It’s not just my uncle. ☠☻♂卐☿☦[Patti]…
Can’t you just show some respect while we’re all underneath the same roof?
F: Bro, you’re drunk.
O: So what if I am?
F: You’re not thinking
rationally.
O: Neither are you.
F: If you had just told me
to stop--
O: It’s common sense. You should
know better. My entire family is convinced you’re sneaking into her room at
night.
F: So what if I am?
O: What?
F: I really don’t see what
the big deal is.
O: Are you sneaking into
her room at night?
F: Is that a crime?
O: Yes!! It’s called statutory
rape.
F: Wow….
O: If you get caught, the
shit will hit the fan.
F: Look, if Patti wants to
invite me into her room after everyone is asleep, who am I to tell her no?
O: A responsible adult?
F: Now you’re the one
being uptight.
O: I can’t handle this
anymore. Have you found a fucking job yet?
F: You know there are no
jobs in New York City.
O: Bullshit.
F: So what then? You’re
going to kick me out?
O: *sigh* No….. It’s just
that you’re putting me in a really bad position.
F: Okay, from now on no
one will ever know what’s going on between me and Patti.
O: I’d rather if you just
stopped instead of trying to hide it. Why do you have to be so selfish all the
time?
F: Come one. This girl is
crazy about me. I’d be selfish if I didn’t
go into her room after everyone fell asleep.
☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠☠
"Of course I'm straight edge," he tells Linda confidently as he snorts a key-bump of MDMA in a woman's bathroom stall. "But it's like, I'm trying to reinterpret what it means to be straight edge.”
"Saying no to drugs seems like too limiting of a description. I think there are a lot of people who never take drugs, but no one ever labels them straight edge. Because the movement is something you have to believe in your heart. Likewise, can't there be someone who feels it completely in his heart, but likes to get high every now and then?”
"That's because he isn't," says Linda, dipping her finger into the plastic baggie, licking some of the powder. "He did drugs in the 60's. He was in this psychedelic band called the Amboy Dukes. He was also a draft dodger. He lies about all of this now because he's got a radio show."
"That's my point exactly," says [NAME REDACTED]. "Straight edgers CHOOSE, Linda."
[NAME REDACTED] has written all about it at length on his blog, http://nolongernailedtothex.blogspot.com. Incoherent ideas about individuality and conformity buzz around in his head. He has a lot to say. These are the only conditions under which others tolerate this line of conversation.
He contemplates for a moment asking Linda to give him a hand massage but decides against it.
I BARELY KNOW HER, IT WOULD BE REALLY WEIRD a voice screams in his head louder than all the other voices.
"I feel pretty great."
Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud.
"Well we better go back," said Linda. They had run out of interesting things to say.
-------------
[NAME REDACTED] didn't get to bed until early the next afternoon. Linda slept beside him, but neither was in the mood for sex. They were both fully dressed. They both writhed around restlessly under the sheets until slumber freed them from their toil. [NAME REDACTED] dreamt.
When he woke up around 7:30 pm that evening, he
quickly jotted down what he could remember of his dream.
------
Patti remembers it like it was yesterday. An uneasy feeling she can't quite explain. Once a week she and Charles would go to Starbucks. They'd stand in line together and order coffee. Then they would pay. Then without fail, she would walk out the door. And he would follow. Always follow.
She had been so sick of having a boyfriend who would let her walk out of the Starbucks before him. Did he really expect her to lead the way forever? It bothered her to no end that she had to open the door. It irritated her that he carelessly dumped the burden of choosing their next destination on her. It was up to her to choose which direction they should turn and the velocity of their walk -- all on her. It was too much for her to handle.
One day she confronted Charles and he just laughed. She thought if she gave him an ultimatum maybe he'd change his ways, but he never did. She couldn't believe how much she missed him still. But would he ever want her back now that she was so big? She wrote something down on a piece of paper:
She put it in her messy purse. She stared longingly at her meatloaf sandwich and potato chips. How was she ever going to finish it?
****
æπå¡
She fingers her unruly flaxen locks away
from her face. This way she can see more of his rotten smile and curious
digits.
“She lipped his ear. She mouthed his chest,
She kissed his belly over and over, lips lingering with each kiss. After a
while, he pulled himself up and strolled away from her attentions, glancing
back over his shoulder to see if she was following, She was.”
And so was Patti. She didn’t know to
initiate these things, but once it got started it felt as natural as her first
time, even in an open field.
She loved every second of it. It never
felt so animal. At one point he moved up towards her head and rubbed his
genitals all over her chest, sat on her face. Unsure of what it meant, she
assumed it part of a new world’s ritual, but soon he went back into place,
right after rubbing his left palm between his butt cheeks for a minute or two.
She fingers his belly. She scratches his
back hair. All of this was always almost perfect, but now it was. Zappy has shown her a new jungle light.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)