Ad Mesh

130808

Smoking prohibited;
Do not block doorway -
Be safe and considerate!
Come, travel Norway.

Emergency alarm -
press for assistance.
Penalty for misuse:
Fine or imprisonment.

Ride the rocket,
Recycle more;
the signs says DANGER:
DO NOT LEAN AGAINST DOOR

Feed your need,
train or be trained.
It’s a money world
with these ads in my brain

Drink brand X:
Obey your thirst!
Mind the gap and
let patrons exit first

In the bar there’s no smokin
In emergency push to open
In society we’re all hopin
That these signs they are all jokin’

Go for it/Just do it
Turn cheese into bread
Come and ride the rocket
Let us into your head

The strong blonde and products you love.
Is the future in your hands?
Think of this as your wake-up call.

[Silliness while riding public transit.]

L—,
Thought some on what we spoke of the other night; it’s inconsequential whether or not your friends, your family – hell, even your boyfriend, adore you as he does – understand what you choose. It’s your life, it is, and you’re not living it for any of them (as life is, always, the most selfish of human interests); if you are discontent with your lot you ought to step up and do something rash – you’re still young, very young, and there’s no sense being unhappy during these few years that have such potential to truly live. You CAN screw up, make bad choices, live any way you want to. It matters not whether they get it, really – life is too short to be unhappy, and one thing I can tell you is you got to be free.

Live.

Z

Well, that’s just it.  I had no real reason to be in class – most of it I knew, and I was dropping out anyway – but I made myself go. I had a responsibility to be there and so I was.  I owed it to myself, my family and the few peers humble enough to swallow their pride and ask for aid when it was required.  And so I went.

The thing is, I never really had to think about this; it is What Must Be Done and that is the only option, no matter the personal burden it would festoon.  You should see now why it bothers me so when people – any people. Most people – refuse to step up and do What Must Be Done in their own lives own worlds.

[No idea when this was written. Was in my notebook. Might be on here already, not sure.]

I sit and I take out my book, as if to begin reading.  I can not; too distracted am I by the life the endless motion stream flow moving by.  People — persons, everywhere.  Of so many skins and hairs and lives and voices and oh to be able to sit here so engulfed in it all exhausted though I be I feel the pull of sleep and seconds are granted it before a rush awakening – it is not safe here, active as it may be.  I have with me my bad my precious belongings my work my world my life too dire to lose.

So here I rest here I remain on this curb national film board to my back and night rapidly approaching.  Here I rest, here I wait.

Here I remain.

A man.  Haggard young unshaven he makes a stroke on his page.  A pause.  Again the brush hits the page.  He looks up every second

two

three

four at his subject sitting idle peacefully unaware of the full attention given her by the man his notebook his pen from across the subway car.  The book its pages filled with sketches such; watercolour water damaged all they warp bend mutated by the deliberate modifying abuse a new feeling grown out of every drop.

The train stops.  The man draws on.

The building is melting.

Overcome by heat and the endless footsteps of use the floor itself begins to sweat grow slippery-slick soft. Aged and beat his rubber floors stil malleable warp even after all these years, his towering panes of glass now faded painted gray with fifty summers winters falls of blemishes and dust.

Outside a car, middle-class but nondescript pulls into its spot of old and the neo-cowboy airbender steps into the surrounding blizzard whipping so silently deafening around him.

Late night train the last night train; day is done, gone the sun. All rise one by one leave on their merry, sleepy, drunken way.  A night of revelry a night of fun ends with the amble skip walk run to make the last train to catch the last one.  They stand they exit to each get a bus streetcar sidewalk to go their separate ways; once one as a tube of metal it fragments splits explodes into the walking comatose as the system shuts down.  Ripped apart nightly reassembled patchwork daily.  The system lives a harder life than most those I know.

With (un)due diligence the students children learners sit idle patient restless row by curséd row desks aligned just so. All face the front pencils in hand notebooks open door shut mouths shut imagination shut. “To learn is a privilege earned. I will learn my maths I will learn my arts I will learn my English as so taught to me by those who know better.”

And so it is wrought line after line so-called punishment torture mindbending to make hate of the world of academia.

A group of strangers students unknown all they stand in wait an empty classroom locked shut closed at their feet. They will spend the next ten weeks three months season together here twice a week. In time friendship comradeship partnerships may be formed created grow break die decay – but for now all are unknown; strangers all they wait.

Balance

270408

It is a game of balance, urban transportation, subway streetcar bus to lose your step is to show touristic flaw incite embarrassment proper. “Subway surfing” is a game best played sober.

It is a game of balance, healthy living. Plants meats sugars what to eat when to eat where to eat how much to eat? The vegan the vegetarian the omnivore each healthy in their own way condemning the others. Exercise to gym to bike to jog to swim – too much and lose precious work-time; too little and lose needed body-time.

It is a game of balance, biking it is. Too slow you stop you fall you lose the flow; too fast you falter you fall you lose the ball.

It is a game of balance, life; the world that is. Nothing you can say, but you can learn how to play the game – it’s easy.