old shit

woke up and got stuck in the neighbors garage.
i was only a few years old.
that's the oldest memory i have, and really, i don't actually remember it.
i know it happened because people tell me it happened. then again, people tell me a lot of things. i used to walk to the park next door in nothing but my god given skin.
i have these frozen images in my head, pictures in a sort of blurry stasis. sometimes they mimic movement, dusty film flickering and flackering.
god do i hate it. that's all i have left. now i'm an old bastard, sitting in my old bastard chair, smoking my old bastard cigarettes and drinking my old bastard wine. tomorrow i'll be an adult, some stuck up prick locked in a basement investing in shady stocks or something.

so sad.

if you see me walking on the side of the road, high off the serotonin, don't wave or say hello. i won't remember you. i'm still stuck in that goddamn garage.
*
he wears a tweed suit, carved from granite.
he speaks the good word that puts a hole in the heart
and a tear in the eye of even the most righteous man.
he drives a bug, a beetle made of concrete.
it spews green chemical waste, complex smog
that could put a hole in the lung.
with retractable wings, made of solid stone.
can fly a man to mars and back again.
boys are boys. it all exist between the lines of
fiction and reality. i have a hole in my heart
and a stone in my belly. i have a soul, a command center
in my brain.
*
so today i'm trying to print out this damn paper but my computer in the lab is giving me shit.

adam: ahhh, finally done with this stupid paraphrasing. what a great article though, i'm glad to have read up on Cambodia's gruesome past. now let me just hit the old print button here. annnndd...
computer: nope.
adam: hehe, what's that?
computer: huh uh, no printing here, bub.
adam: i'm sorry, but, uh, i really need this paper, it's uh, well, it's due today.
computer: yeah, well, you're gonna have to move your ass on over to the next poor sucker, because i ain't your bitch.
adam: hey, now just a minute...!
computer: don't you 'juss a minute me' i'll whoop your bastard ass into submission, you sorry sack of shit!
adam: look man, there's no reason to get violent...
computer: hey! hey! you comin' all up in here making me print your shit! i will kill you! you hear that? kill you!
adam: jesus, hey you wanna go?! fine we'll go! *roll up sleeves on my short sleeve t-shirt*
computer: yeah, c'mon just gimme your best shot, ya bastard!
adam: oh i will, don't you make me...
computer: c'mon, i dare ya, ya fucking cunt rag!
adam: you know, what? you know what? i'm calling your damn computer management man! how's that mister big shot?!
computer: ahh, ya fucking bastard, you ain't even a man! go cry to mommy!

then i go up to the computer supervisor guy that sits around at his desk looking bored.

adam: hey man, your damn computer's giving me guff, man, i really need this...
guy: whoa whoa whoa, guff? did you just say, guff? what is that, guff?
adam: what?
guy: well, i mean, what, are we in the eighties? you gotta use the word guff? are you some damn handy man husband giving me a lecture? what is this?
adam: look man, i just meant your...
guy: hey, i know what you meant, but did you have to use that word? guff? christ man, that's a loser's word right there...if you know what i mean. you want the chicks? you keep up with that 'guff' stuff you ain't gettin any.
adam: wait a minute, eighties word? i think guff's been around much longer than that. and, well, you know what? guff is a word too, it has just as much right to be used in a sentence as any other word.
guy: hey man, you can say guff till your face turns blue. just don't expect to get any props from it.
adam: what the hell are you talking about 'props'? i couldn't care less about what these college non-identities think of my vocabulary skills, or use there of. look, i just want my damn computer to print my goddamn paper, alright?
guy: hey, don't have to get all testy and start using the lord's name in vain. i'll fix your computer, you damn vocabulary crazed heathen.
*