Posts Tagged ‘children’

the link was suddenly clear to me: there were no children roaming in the wilderness. Gone was the unintended fall over the bottomless cliff. The fangs of unsuspected snakes were now made of vinyl and hopefully tinted red minus the Chinese lead. A dim memory of wild beasts lurking. Beast lurk. No broken limbs, no uncontrolled infections, no fevers. 

The confinement of the parental units plus offspring within the walls of a 25-year-old apartment that once in a while smells like fecal stuff and unnamed ghosts, completely uncontrolled by any natural culling tools, resulted in the discovery of the switch.  The child who once was tamed by his external (much larger) environment, now is tamed by the hand of a single parental unit.

Pathetic. Primitive. Arrested.

Yup, one ought to arrest them


she never stopped talking. from 6 AM when she worked out by the radio and looked myopically at a black and white poster behind the living room door, she held the short broomstick and repeated after the trainer: chin up, tuck your tummy…. and her voice was animated, just loud enough for the hour and i listened. the thump of the broomstick on the floor invariably followed by a scrape told me that she wasn’t doing the forms very well. she persisted. she persisted in the work out, morning after morning. alone in front of the closed-door where the poster hung and listened alone to the man on the radio. i don’t imagine anyone else in the whole city did the same.  it was the longest 30 minutes of the day. until 6 o’clock at night when she ushered our wet bodies into bed and hushed everyone with a voice that was going away, into her own bedroom. i could hear her talk through the walls. she complained all the time and he didn’t say a word. you fucked the maid again, she would say, and now she doesn’t respect me, she accused. she didn’t cry, she didn’t really shout at night, but her voice was harsh and more than anything interminable. i wouldn’t fall asleep for fear she wouldn’t shut up.  when she did, then i imagined i was inside uncle’s pants walking down the mountains without falling, without running without anyone to push me forward or hold me back. and i walked down the mountain that never ended. the silence was complete. like the silence can be on the mountains. because you don’t really listen to the enormous wind.  it is bigger than the mountain and bigger than Earth itself .  it comes from nowhere and everywhere. so a walk slowly and firmly down no paths. in my uncle’s pants. i don’t say anything and i don’t want to sing or cry or tell stories. i just walk circling down around the mountain. i wait for when the blue buick will appear at the end of the road, over there and then i know i have to sit among them. they all talk quite a bit too . they push each other. i can never understand why, so i vomit. vomiting makes people stay away from you but they still worry enough to buy gaseous water. i get to sit in from so that i can stare onto the road that disappears under the buick.  no one else vomits and i am happy. because no one can deny a vomit, you see. you feel sick, you look sick and they see the crap that comes out of you. No denying, like headaches or tummy aches, these are difficult to prove and she won’t stop talking, so there is no point in even saying it out loud. it opens another floodgate of complaints and memories and threats and hopes that cover you in more shit than you can fathom in your young mind. so i vomit. i vomit and i have migraine headaches. they make me lay down in a dark room for three days in a row, sometimes.   i wonder now if there were pain killers then, and why i didn’t take anything for the headaches. maybe i don’t want to find out because that will cost me another 100 bucks at the shrinks, although she is fucking awesome. so i don’t have them anymore and i haven’t puked in a very long time. i don’t take her phone calls and throw away her emails. i don’t talk about her much because myths are there to be figured out, or be part of specially low circulation volumes, for sure.  i know she still talks because last time i visited i slept with her in the same bed. she was rolled up, tense, almost falling off the bed and she prayed all fucking night long. i asked her for god”s sake to shut up and she said she had to save the fucking world.  i understood then what she meant when she said she wanted to see the circus go up in flames: burned down houses one sees on city corners and along country roads are silent.