Month: June 2005

The darkness fades into a grayness as the lights become dim. The man is sitting in the front row looking at the pale canvas screen before him. 24 frames per second a new painting made with light and life so much concentrated endeavor. He gets up from his chair and approaches the screen. It has no response in this dormant state it is the most neutral thing possible. He touches the rough fabric it is strong and durable taught like a sail to travel the minds of escape.
The city is cold at this point an honest cold that clears the sky of all the smog and lets the lights shine stars of industry piercing the sky and reflecting back onto the universe with neon multicolored parody of those same events that made it all.
At home he notices that his finger is white where he touched the screen like a chalky film he rubs his finger but it does not come off, it spreads. He goes to the bathroom and washes his hand but nothing happens he holds his hand to the light by now his entire palm is white it is like a progressive bleaching of his skin. The appendage feels cold and dull.
He can see something in his palm a reflection a projection.

Setting: 2 guys at a table in the morning one has a cup another a tiny ball.
C: (sips) So what are we here for this Wednesday?
B: (rolling ball between palm and the table) Tuesday.
C: What?
B: Today is Tuesday. You’ve gotten ahead of yourself.
C: (looking down at cup) Yea I guess you’re right . . . so what do you want?
B: You promised me something six years ago, do you remember?
C: I think . . . yes it was at my brother’s birthday party something about a car companies stocks, they seemed to have promise. (sips) What about it? Did the stocks pan out?
B: No . . . I lost a lot of money.
C: Oh . . .(sips).
B: I became obsessed with trying to the beat the odds after that my wife left me. I started to believe the world owed me something you have to understand I wasn’t a gambling man be fore this happened.
C: Okay, and the . . .
B: Well . . . gambling worked for awhile but in the end it was just money there wasn’t enough risk. I tried all of the crazy stupid things but always there was something filtered and contrived about these experiences like mini-vacations away from myself.
C: Most people seem to like that.
B: Not me I wanted to feel what it was like to be alive, myself at risk. I started driving fast and living dangerously walking into dark alleys and things like that.
C: And what then?
B: I was mugged, the guy beat the shit out of me and took my wallet.
C: Damn!
B: It didn’t bother me I only had a few bucks. Any way the next night I went back; I wanted to find the guy.
C: And kick the shit out of him?
B: Not really I just craved the idea of conflict.
C: (smiling) Like some kind of bloodlust?
B: . . .Anyway I found the guy or we sort of found each other. He had a knife to my back suddenly I spun around and knocked him flat on his ass. He was drunk and just sort of lay there waiting for me to run.
C: Then what did you take his wallet before you left as a little trophy?
B: No I just kicked him. For all of my confusion and anger about my life that was the first time I felt right so I kept kicking him. I must have done this for an hour my eyes burned with oily sweat and I was out of breath so I went how and slept.
C: What happened to the man?
B: That’s not the point. I found my answer there needed to be victimization and then vindication. It was the amazing power of self actualization. All of my life I had been a passive victim, most people are that way, now I fight back.
C: why are you telling me this? Frankly I don’t think it’s very funny. We hardly know each other are you getting help?
B: Yes I am helping myself by taking care of all those who made me a victim. That’s why I wanted to see you this Tuesday morning because you’re the last one. I hope that coffee tasted good.