He said,
"You wanna get a woman,
you got to be willing to punch her,
so willing that when you have to punch her,
punching her is the first thing to come to your mind,
and when you do punch her, you have no problem punching her.
Punching her is the easy thing, rather than holding back.
You never see wimps getting laid,
or, if they do, they have to be rich,
so the women come to him, and leech off his money.
Wives of rich men,
strippers at a strip club.
The same kind of person, really.
They leech off a man's money
because they can. If they were ugly,
they'd be fine with working at the supermarket,
but they happen to have a round ass,
so they shake it. And they get their pick of man.
Of poor men, only rapists get laid.
Of men, they are the only ones who really try.
The wonderful thing is that the women
tend to love these rapist types--if by accident.
Even if the ladies, once the relationship,
goes sour, would rather die than be in the room with him,
the initial attraction--that spark that led her to him--
comes from the same place that enables him to smother her with a pillow,
and call her dumb and ugly. The same spark that gets him to be funny,
and sweet, and so manly and strong is the spark
that gets him to place a bullet in her purse when
she's not looking, and to follow her to her work,
and be outside of her home when she's leaving to hang out with friends.
Women never bitch about boring, nice guys. Not after the break up.
They only bitch out the mean, abusive ones,
who stole their necklaces, and cheat on them with their best friends.
The women bitch because they liked those guys.
Maybe they still do.
They usually do.
The boring ones are forgotten, if they even existed.
Women only remember--and love--the men who'd give them black eyes."
"And what kind of man are you?" his friend said.
The man showed his wedding ring. "The punching kind."
"That's sick," his friend said.
"It's the truth, you virgin-faggot."
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Dull Notes We Sing; "An excerpt"
A person is going to tell you a story. If they say it’s going to be very interesting, it’s going to suck. It might involve a quadriplegic midget prostitute, but she’ll get boring after a scene or two. Imagine a quadriplegic midget prostitute sweeping the floor. Really. Get back to me in an hour.
If you thought about her for more than 10 seconds, it’s because you cheated. You added in a family of cats, or had her talk to her pimp. Or you were trying to figure out how a quadriplegic could sweep a floor. Regardless, you’ve returned to me. She bored you. This is proof that novelty, like pain, produces numbness. You soon find a way to step back.
So these stories will not try to be interesting. They will in some way involve a homeless man with empty eye sockets, who could interest you for a moment. If you saw him in real life, you’d stare for a little, maybe clutch your purse, laugh, etc. You’d look at your friend or a street vendor, say, “wow, that guy is scary” and then go home, and forget about him by tomorrow morning. Not that you tried to forget…Still, you forget about best friends from 10th grade, forget about the faint scar on your right forearm, and forget about that documentary on theories on the ultimate fate of the universe, which scared you so bad when your were five that you hid yourself in the bathroom. Your family had to unlock the door with a hairpin. So, these stories tell about memory. They are here so forgetfulness doesn’t erase them.
The people in Greek mythology had it right. Despite their bashing babies against castle walls, pillaging foreign lands, mass murders in the backyard, raping, cooking sons, killing dad, impregnating mom. Despite all that, they believed in memory. The importance of it, how it created a sort of immortality for those gone. When Greeks introduced themselves, they said where they came from. Location, social status, family. You are tied into these, and it is your responsibility to give immortality and fame to your family as well as to yourself.
If you thought about her for more than 10 seconds, it’s because you cheated. You added in a family of cats, or had her talk to her pimp. Or you were trying to figure out how a quadriplegic could sweep a floor. Regardless, you’ve returned to me. She bored you. This is proof that novelty, like pain, produces numbness. You soon find a way to step back.
So these stories will not try to be interesting. They will in some way involve a homeless man with empty eye sockets, who could interest you for a moment. If you saw him in real life, you’d stare for a little, maybe clutch your purse, laugh, etc. You’d look at your friend or a street vendor, say, “wow, that guy is scary” and then go home, and forget about him by tomorrow morning. Not that you tried to forget…Still, you forget about best friends from 10th grade, forget about the faint scar on your right forearm, and forget about that documentary on theories on the ultimate fate of the universe, which scared you so bad when your were five that you hid yourself in the bathroom. Your family had to unlock the door with a hairpin. So, these stories tell about memory. They are here so forgetfulness doesn’t erase them.
The people in Greek mythology had it right. Despite their bashing babies against castle walls, pillaging foreign lands, mass murders in the backyard, raping, cooking sons, killing dad, impregnating mom. Despite all that, they believed in memory. The importance of it, how it created a sort of immortality for those gone. When Greeks introduced themselves, they said where they came from. Location, social status, family. You are tied into these, and it is your responsibility to give immortality and fame to your family as well as to yourself.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Excerpts from a poem I'm working on.
A man and a woman lay by each other in bed.
The man: “I love you. Forever and ever, I will.”
She blinks.
A woman and a man walk hand in hand through the park.
Woman: “I love you. Forever and ever, I will.”
Man: “Uh.”
In a 1939, a Nazi Gauleiter (District Leader) and his Jewish mistress lay together in bed.
Mistress: “I love you. Forever and ever, I will.” Then, the wife walked in.
Two weeks later, soldiers gassed the wife to death in a gas chamber.
A man eats dinner with his brother.
Man: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
The brother punches the man, and calls him a faggot.
A woman sits with her sister. Christmas.
Woman: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
Two day later, the sister removes $500 from the woman’s bank account,
and escapes into New Jersey.
A man and his foster son sit in the living room, and play a football video game.
The man: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
The Orphan later steals the foster father’s girlfriend.
**************************
They kneaded the thigh, their breaths heavy and warm and wet. Their breaths swirled. A cup of water boiled and the steam
waved over you. The touch was like a rag rubbed over your chest. His breathing, theirs--wet, from the throat. They moaned from the throat. They made little jokes, and rubbed, and breathed, and coughed, and moaned, and made another little joke, and breathed, breathed, breathed.
They washed their hands, and closed the door behind them. Your father played poker in the dining room. Your mother slept on the couch in the living room.
**************************
Our enemies kneaded us. They pounded us flat on a pan. They sliced us out with a cookie-cutter in the shape of people. They flipped us out and left us in the over for 9 minutes, temperature 350 degrees Fahrenheit. They left us to cool on a windowsill. They decorated us with icing. They gave me 3 eyes, and you five nipples. They gave you a frown, and rested a smile on my stomach.
“Delicious!”
Hours later, at 8:43pm, we plopped into the toilet.
You: “No!”
Me: “What?”
You: “Nothing.”
Me: “Please.”
You: “What?”
Me: “Nothing.”
You: “Please.” And then you began to climb out.
Me: “No!
You: “Shut up!”
Me: “What?”
You: “You going to hit me?”
Me: “What? No!”
You: “Then what made you angry?”
Me: “Nothing.”
You: “I’m leaving.”
Me: “No!”
You: “Why shouldn’t I leave?”
Me: “Please.”
You: “Why shouldn’t I leave?”
Me: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
Because what should be ours shall be ours. We’ve waited longer than a cold night in which our knuckles fall to white, chipped skin. We have waited so long that we ignore the beggar asking for 80 cents. We’ve been lonely for so long that we hope for others to live alone too. We bathe in our victories. We bump into people on the street and do not say “excuse me.” We curse when we get a problem wrong on the quiz, and punch the wall when a stranger calls us a “bitch” in the hallway. We count the times they cursed us, we write the number in our journals. We sigh because the Iraq War has yet to become WWIII.
We have forgotten the names of our aunts and uncles, and we refuse to call people we’ve only known for a week. We imagine people talk about us behind our backs, and we expect that tomorrow, the sun will rise, and the moon will resemble a man’s face, and it will rain, or it will not. It snows, or the sun shines. Someone shoots someone else, or someone robs someone else. Someone emerges from the womb, and someone slips on the wedding ring. The sun rises, and the moon dissolves in the light. The sun falls, and the moon brightens. The stars hover in place for centuries. Shit smells like shit and flowers like flowers, and flowers dipped in shit smell like shit. The sun will rise.
The man: “I love you. Forever and ever, I will.”
She blinks.
A woman and a man walk hand in hand through the park.
Woman: “I love you. Forever and ever, I will.”
Man: “Uh.”
In a 1939, a Nazi Gauleiter (District Leader) and his Jewish mistress lay together in bed.
Mistress: “I love you. Forever and ever, I will.” Then, the wife walked in.
Two weeks later, soldiers gassed the wife to death in a gas chamber.
A man eats dinner with his brother.
Man: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
The brother punches the man, and calls him a faggot.
A woman sits with her sister. Christmas.
Woman: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
Two day later, the sister removes $500 from the woman’s bank account,
and escapes into New Jersey.
A man and his foster son sit in the living room, and play a football video game.
The man: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
The Orphan later steals the foster father’s girlfriend.
**************************
They kneaded the thigh, their breaths heavy and warm and wet. Their breaths swirled. A cup of water boiled and the steam
waved over you. The touch was like a rag rubbed over your chest. His breathing, theirs--wet, from the throat. They moaned from the throat. They made little jokes, and rubbed, and breathed, and coughed, and moaned, and made another little joke, and breathed, breathed, breathed.
They washed their hands, and closed the door behind them. Your father played poker in the dining room. Your mother slept on the couch in the living room.
**************************
Our enemies kneaded us. They pounded us flat on a pan. They sliced us out with a cookie-cutter in the shape of people. They flipped us out and left us in the over for 9 minutes, temperature 350 degrees Fahrenheit. They left us to cool on a windowsill. They decorated us with icing. They gave me 3 eyes, and you five nipples. They gave you a frown, and rested a smile on my stomach.
“Delicious!”
Hours later, at 8:43pm, we plopped into the toilet.
You: “No!”
Me: “What?”
You: “Nothing.”
Me: “Please.”
You: “What?”
Me: “Nothing.”
You: “Please.” And then you began to climb out.
Me: “No!
You: “Shut up!”
Me: “What?”
You: “You going to hit me?”
Me: “What? No!”
You: “Then what made you angry?”
Me: “Nothing.”
You: “I’m leaving.”
Me: “No!”
You: “Why shouldn’t I leave?”
Me: “Please.”
You: “Why shouldn’t I leave?”
Me: “I love you, forever and ever, I will.”
Because what should be ours shall be ours. We’ve waited longer than a cold night in which our knuckles fall to white, chipped skin. We have waited so long that we ignore the beggar asking for 80 cents. We’ve been lonely for so long that we hope for others to live alone too. We bathe in our victories. We bump into people on the street and do not say “excuse me.” We curse when we get a problem wrong on the quiz, and punch the wall when a stranger calls us a “bitch” in the hallway. We count the times they cursed us, we write the number in our journals. We sigh because the Iraq War has yet to become WWIII.
We have forgotten the names of our aunts and uncles, and we refuse to call people we’ve only known for a week. We imagine people talk about us behind our backs, and we expect that tomorrow, the sun will rise, and the moon will resemble a man’s face, and it will rain, or it will not. It snows, or the sun shines. Someone shoots someone else, or someone robs someone else. Someone emerges from the womb, and someone slips on the wedding ring. The sun rises, and the moon dissolves in the light. The sun falls, and the moon brightens. The stars hover in place for centuries. Shit smells like shit and flowers like flowers, and flowers dipped in shit smell like shit. The sun will rise.
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