himitsu

"Do you know what people did in the old days when they had secrets they didn't want to share? They'd climb a moutain, find a tree, carve a hole in it, whisper the secret into the hole and cover it up with mud. That way, nobody else would ever learn the secret..." -Tak, 2046

This is my tree with its hole carved sitting on top of a mountain. 

I'm an asshole. That's my secret. I am misanthropic, I hate everyone. The kicker is that secretly I hate myself.

Today was not a good day. Not a shining moment for me. I sped over to my car dealership at the last minute to see if they could figure out what was wrong with my nav system...this place has the most obscene parking lot in the universe. On top of that, I accidentally parked in the handicapped parking spot so I had to move my car twice. The second time I was stuck behind people in a car, while waiting for this woman to get out...I didn't know what they were doing at first, just seemed like they were sitting there in the parking lot...in the way. I honked lightly, not too much. I honked twice though. Then the old lady comes up to me and trys to talk to me threw the window but I'm shaking my head and mouthing at her to leave me alone and go away. I can't deal with it.

Later she comes in to the garage, calling me sir and stuff, telling me about how she's on chemotherapy and she doesn't move very quickly and she was stuck in between two kids trying to get out of the car. It's all I can do not to scream. I just want to die, right there. I'm still not clear on why she was even there in the first place. It's like the universe is teaching me a lesson...this whole month has been full of lessons. Maybe I should just kill myself and get it over with.

M. has been telling me that I need to let go of my anger. I don't even know how. I feel like my anger protects me from harm, until things like this happen. Then I am just humiliated and I want to disappear. I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me forever. 

So there it is, I'm an asshole.

Slam this (My Bliss)

Who the fuck am I?

I don’t know who I am anymore, this pale ugly stranger

Beady eyes inflamed with a fire nothing can quench

My thirst is eternal like the g-ddamn sun that

Doesn’t boil my fallow skin to beautiful brown like

Days past with seagulls, pelicans and tropical terns flying LOW the planes, the planes are getting closer everyday driving me mad like a horsefly ramming itself against unyielding greasy glass SHATTERING all over the wall after I throw the bottle in a fit of childish yet adult frenzy, FRIENDS where are you other than slipping away and I can’t remember how your voice sounds anymore its been so long yet only as if it were yesterday why haven’t you called I changed my number make a fucking effort because I am worth a damn

DAMN.

I am worth a damn so why do I leave them to rape me everyday?

I am losing my face speaking without accents not speaking in tongues you can understand, you sientes lo que digo? my people where are my people you are NOT my people who the fuck are my people? My people wouldn’t rape me, hate me, snub me, and cut me down to size WHAT the hell is this hi how are you HOW can I transfer your CALL my mother to explain but I can’t speak she don’t get it anymore ANYWAY my throat is caught in they dicks as they…      

Again and again and again.

Again when, when will I be beautiful inside? He reminds me to live instead of die.

I’ve been dying since I turned fifteen, turning green and rotting away from the soul but this boy he gave me my goal to be alive to stay afloat because g-d knows its easier to choke.

So choke on this.            

Choke on my bliss.

Damn.

I am worth a damn.

Yes,

M’am.

How can I help you today?

A song for us.

"Who are you to say that?"

Me?

Who the fuck am I?

I am the words people are afraid to say.

I am the song in the wind.

I am the rage in our hearts.

I am la voix que ouvre les yeux.

I am the bullet that cannot be stopped.

I am breaking glass.

I am tears in the eyes of children.

Je suis tout ce qui a été victime d'intimidation.

So, dix-moi.

Who the fuck are you?

El Grito

There are somedays living in the Last Bastion of White America when I, surrounded by homogeneity in Powells or my favourite café, want to scream.
Just scream, a note.
Not a word, just a noise.


In this phonetically simple sound, would be reflected my frustration (admittedly sometimes hatred) of what society has created around me. Perhaps I should leave? Some do, some say. However, fleeing does not solve the problem. I would rather enfrentar las cosas con un par de cojones.

Like H. said to me, "If you ignore the problem then it becomes normalized for you."

This shit ain't normal.

What happens to a city once it loses its soul?