Sex and consumerism should have a parade of their own. After all it does seem like they’ve tied the knot in the states.
“Captain crunch is living the Life and counting his Frosted Flakes with none other than the Count himself, Chocula. They’re after me Lucky Charms he’d always yell at the Trix bunny who was busy getting Kix from the Honeycomb.” Walking towards the grocery store we would often play this verbal story game. It’s just to pass time or uncertainty, whichever is less in demand.
Approaching the buildings automated sliding gateway we both look at each other…knowing what was to come. We had only talked about doing it in the past but now we had taken the first faithful step on a staircase of which we couldn’t quite make out the end.
Inside the speaker box voice from above is blaring/glaring a mush soup of warbled words and either broken or muddled sentiments lost in the haze of suburban hub. It sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher saying, “Important message for all shoppers; Wiggly womp fruit buried in sun blasted raw profiles of strained optimism and feigned relativism.” We laugh as we walk past the detergent and barbed wire.
The magazines say the word so much and yet avoid it directly. Proper posture and the crass laughs of class stringing deep, line the magazine racks just covered in it. They seemingly scream, SEX!
“This week on sale; a new product called Visa that lets YOU consume virtually and with a brush less guilt.”
Love is a verb that implies doing. The act of love being communicated through various forms of language. In aisle 14 the making of this particular verb includes us naked. You (the reader) and me (the writer). After all what are love and reading both if not communion? So we are in the store, on the floor sprawled out in sublime ecstasy. People pass like ships in the night. They never glance directly down the aisle and through their blinders that both lead and bewilder. It’s cozy to put up defense mechanisms I suppose.
Gender lost in an androgynous gel that heats the scene. Approaching the arc of an eternal climax we look up and notice 30 different types of cereal. I think to myself, “that’s a fairly absurd number of cereal choices” then shrug as we’re putting our pants back on.
All of a sudden I can for the first time clearly discern what is playing on the loudspeaker. It’s “Lost in the Supermarket” by the Clash. You just gotta love that voice from about right? We walk away whistling.
Showing posts with label clay johnson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clay johnson. Show all posts
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Gypsy Magic: Clay Johnson
unpublished writing by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
From the depths of an alley out bursts and old and gray gypsy man weary with the tempered sunshine dripping from his wilted eyes. An officer sees and meets him at the alleys opening before he has a chance to run. "Stop gypsy!" he cries. The gypsy knowing he could run sees something like intrigue in the angle of the officer's eyes and decides to obey.
"Gypsy we have the same enemy and I seek your magic." "Nonsense" says the gypsy, "there is no such thing as magic". While speaking and with a wave of his hand he is simultaneously allowed a moment to hide in his pocket a jewel that he had bartered (tricked) out of the possession of a local townsmen.
"I've seen you move with the forces of the unknown. I believe not in witches but I know what I've seen of you gypsy. As well, that old farmer on the hill who I know would have you breathing dirt under stone if he could, has lately born an offense upon my family".
Sensing now an opportunity springing through their rift the gypsy ruminates on this statement for a moment. then out of the corner of his eye he sees the townsman searching for revenge in his periphery and so responds, "walk with me long arm of order and I shall show you the ways to deal with our commonalities." Together they walk towards the outskirts of town.
Upon reaching the farthest limits of the small dusty town the gypsy motioned for the officer to sit. "For a small price I will teach you to stop time itself just long enough to conjurewhatever tools you may need in any situation." "Yes gypsy pleaaaaase I will do anything. The farmer refuses to sell my wife and I vegetables because he believe me not to be fit for her hand in marriage. I fear our starvation! Here is some gold and silver I had saved for just such and occasion". The gypsy's eyes glowed and lowered for nearly an indiscernible instant before he response, "you prepare for strange situations officer". The officer tries to bargain some more by saying, with this can you not pay off your debt to the farmer?" The gypsy had no intention of paying off anyone but he quickly agreed, accepted the payment, and motioned for the officer to close his eyes.
Escape within his reach, the gypsy felt surprisingly torn. He would usually be halfway to the next nowhere with a new bag of tricks and money by now but something about the officers demeanor strangely affected him. Usually people falling for his tricks was to him, a sign of naivety but for the first time he saw something different, trust, and it stirred him.
In this moment time itself did stop and a sort of magic did bubble up from the situational instance. for a moment he could have sworn that he could literally perceive a great intangivle force emanating from the officers still body. He had always known of this spring of fluidity but had for some reason never thought to use it this way.
He picked up the most unique looking rock he could find in his periphery and handed it to the officer and enclosed the officers hand around it.
"Now without opening your eyes" said the gypsy, "place this magic stone in your coat pocket and never look at it until you need it. Then in that moment gaze upon it and know that it is you and that your strength and magic spring from within it."
Nearly crying the officer thanked him and did as he was told. As he was leaving he also added, "now that I think about it my wife and I hardly need this rolling dried tumble weed of a town. We shall now go west as we have always dreamed of doing and just as you would do. Oh thank you gypsy. Thank you."
As the officer left the gypsy began to reflect. He knew of no other life than that of rambling momentum as a seed to his alchemy but of the deep-seated and knowing trust the officer possessed he had little. Thoughts filled his ebbing mind and spilled out of his periphery like tears the earth itself did cry to wash away the dirt. he decided it was time he lived out the rest of his days in one place and this town to him seemed perfect.
His eyes wandered autonomously to rock of a similar deep red hue as the one he had given the officer. He picked it up as if just to feel its energy but in that moment, as soon as the rock felt settled in his palm, he closed his eyes as tightly as they could allow. He felt then his entire sense of self dissolve away. Somehow out of his body and into that of the rock. With a smile his body fell limp to the ground as he passed away.
His last thought coupled with a chuckle was whispered from his lips as he relaxed into eternity, "magic is..." The end
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
From the depths of an alley out bursts and old and gray gypsy man weary with the tempered sunshine dripping from his wilted eyes. An officer sees and meets him at the alleys opening before he has a chance to run. "Stop gypsy!" he cries. The gypsy knowing he could run sees something like intrigue in the angle of the officer's eyes and decides to obey.
"Gypsy we have the same enemy and I seek your magic." "Nonsense" says the gypsy, "there is no such thing as magic". While speaking and with a wave of his hand he is simultaneously allowed a moment to hide in his pocket a jewel that he had bartered (tricked) out of the possession of a local townsmen.
"I've seen you move with the forces of the unknown. I believe not in witches but I know what I've seen of you gypsy. As well, that old farmer on the hill who I know would have you breathing dirt under stone if he could, has lately born an offense upon my family".
Sensing now an opportunity springing through their rift the gypsy ruminates on this statement for a moment. then out of the corner of his eye he sees the townsman searching for revenge in his periphery and so responds, "walk with me long arm of order and I shall show you the ways to deal with our commonalities." Together they walk towards the outskirts of town.
Upon reaching the farthest limits of the small dusty town the gypsy motioned for the officer to sit. "For a small price I will teach you to stop time itself just long enough to conjurewhatever tools you may need in any situation." "Yes gypsy pleaaaaase I will do anything. The farmer refuses to sell my wife and I vegetables because he believe me not to be fit for her hand in marriage. I fear our starvation! Here is some gold and silver I had saved for just such and occasion". The gypsy's eyes glowed and lowered for nearly an indiscernible instant before he response, "you prepare for strange situations officer". The officer tries to bargain some more by saying, with this can you not pay off your debt to the farmer?" The gypsy had no intention of paying off anyone but he quickly agreed, accepted the payment, and motioned for the officer to close his eyes.
Escape within his reach, the gypsy felt surprisingly torn. He would usually be halfway to the next nowhere with a new bag of tricks and money by now but something about the officers demeanor strangely affected him. Usually people falling for his tricks was to him, a sign of naivety but for the first time he saw something different, trust, and it stirred him.
In this moment time itself did stop and a sort of magic did bubble up from the situational instance. for a moment he could have sworn that he could literally perceive a great intangivle force emanating from the officers still body. He had always known of this spring of fluidity but had for some reason never thought to use it this way.
He picked up the most unique looking rock he could find in his periphery and handed it to the officer and enclosed the officers hand around it.
"Now without opening your eyes" said the gypsy, "place this magic stone in your coat pocket and never look at it until you need it. Then in that moment gaze upon it and know that it is you and that your strength and magic spring from within it."
Nearly crying the officer thanked him and did as he was told. As he was leaving he also added, "now that I think about it my wife and I hardly need this rolling dried tumble weed of a town. We shall now go west as we have always dreamed of doing and just as you would do. Oh thank you gypsy. Thank you."
As the officer left the gypsy began to reflect. He knew of no other life than that of rambling momentum as a seed to his alchemy but of the deep-seated and knowing trust the officer possessed he had little. Thoughts filled his ebbing mind and spilled out of his periphery like tears the earth itself did cry to wash away the dirt. he decided it was time he lived out the rest of his days in one place and this town to him seemed perfect.
His eyes wandered autonomously to rock of a similar deep red hue as the one he had given the officer. He picked it up as if just to feel its energy but in that moment, as soon as the rock felt settled in his palm, he closed his eyes as tightly as they could allow. He felt then his entire sense of self dissolve away. Somehow out of his body and into that of the rock. With a smile his body fell limp to the ground as he passed away.
His last thought coupled with a chuckle was whispered from his lips as he relaxed into eternity, "magic is..." The end
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