The other side of nothing
9th December 1990
All hopes collapse! The canal does not reach the ocean but merely peters out into a vast swamp. Alex is utterly confounded. Decides he must be close to ocean and elects to try and work way through swamp to sea. Alex becomes progressively lost to point where he must push canoe through reeds and drag it through mud. All is in despair. Finds some dry ground to camp in swamp at sundown. Next day, on 12/10, Alex resumes quest for an opening to the sea, but only becomes more confused, traveling in circles. Completely demoralized and frustrated he lays in his canoe at the day’s end and weeps. But then by fantastic chance he comes upon Mexican duck hunting guides who can speak English. He tells them his story and his quest for the sea. They say there is no outlet to the sea. But then one among them agrees to tow Alex back to his basecamp [behind a small motor skiff], and drive him and the canoe in the bed of a pickup truck to the ocean. It is a miracle.
McCandless, Christopher Johnson.
• •
Heyman Lane Blues.
Gaginng on the minutes is Mr.Clock. The nooks they offer him directions. They’re speaking; no, yelling. Then the first streak of light permeates through the windows, undulating the barren floor and its warm veneer of darkness. This frustrates the radio who gets very little attention for all her singing.
Behind closed doors, where classy people do rotten things.
This one, not the one that I talk about all the time. But the other one- unethical and acutely hypocritical. If she asks for more I’ll shove a cleaver up her cunt.
Insulated from so many things; not warned of even more things.
Mistaking praises for innuendos.
The smart kids will start a religion. The smarter kids will study politics. The smartest kids will start a war.
Not quite stable.
Small triumphs, large tragedies.
as if your prettiness is going to feed me.
fuck them who say they want to make the world a better place. disrespectful losers.
a banana shaped banana, rice cake and a cookie with lukewarm 1% milk for dinner.
I was up in a tree, chewing on the leaves when all the beautiful people started to evaporate.
Everyone thought I was dancing but it was the floor; it was very hot and the trees were out of my reach.
“you better than them you got in bed with”
the difference between things- contemplating vs doing and unhappiness vs depression.
Black history month. Native American history month??
Otis,”this bitch is supposed to hook me up with food, weed and feelings. shit!”
Ironic; like a porn named, “could’ve loved you”
the longer you’re awake, warmer the body gets; eye cells vibrate.
the newness of morning tea.
weave a future and struct it into something favorable.
the old lady got fired because the kids wanted a stir-fuckin-fry dinner.
“a woman who writes feels too much”, Anne Sexton
the actress is wiping the painkillers off her nose with her favorite dress; pretty she looks in those smeared streaks of white.
Nick Drake used to play his guitar and sing, facing the wall because he was very shy.
Simple, from a distance.
Your horse is taller than mine.
“fewer casualties”, J. Tillman.
What’s more beautiful than the abandoned shreds of something beautiful. At first you’re thinking this shit is weak. That you got gypped. You curse it the entire night, claiming it never hit you. Maybe you lied. Maybe you didn’t. Who knows? If they did, would they care? Then you call it a night and come to bed and “pum pum pudum pum pum pum” that shits hits you. It’s all inwards from then on. All the shit you don’t pay attention to- cow doo doo, the drugs you never try, lies that affect no one, trivial secrets, bland adventures, broken cigarettes, songs that never escape you, the weird friend of a friend whom you won’t smile upon, dirty napkins and jealousy- the other side of nothing.
