Friday, February 18, 2011

OVERTOWN AND LIBERTY CITY

Driving in the poorest neighborhoods in Miami with Adam during the hottest part of day, he tried to get me to talk about why I was feeling so fucking bad, and I couldn't open my mouth and he was getting frustrated, almost angry, he told me to say the alphabet and I did, singing it, but I still couldn't tell him anything worthwhile.

So I can recite the 26 letters, tell you what year it is, drive a car, (even though I almost hit a man on a bicycle yesterday, didn't see him until he was in front of me,) wash dishes, (even though I dread meeting other boarders in the kitchen and prefer to wash my dishes late at night or across the hall in the bathtub.)

My whole life seems like a mistake, and the only way to see it differently is to be able to get some words on a page. It's difficult to get started doing this if I don't feel like everything I write will make people like me, I think that must be a newly-revealed trait. I want these people to like me without knowing me, just by a feeling they had from a few meetings, a conversation, letters, wondering about me-----AND JESUS GOD IN HEAVEN THIS IS HOKUM

1 comment:

Darius Smith said...

Your fever dream of fake i.d. s come true click and disappear or 8s it a police trap? Same either way?