Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Sirens

It doesn’t take an angry person to be angry in times like these, everything handed to us, everything piping hot in winter and ice all summer.

The roads are lit all night long and the sirens—sometimes it’s calming to hear one screaming at a good distance.

I think of times left the city, before, and slept in quiet locked rooms with only one layer of paint. Out there, you hear a siren and it becomes a part of your life. There’s a moment of silence as it hurtles past. Silence for its owner, I mean. Of course it isn’t itself silent. It’s a siren, dummy. But look in the eyes of your driver and you’ll see what I mean. The mind stops, gives you a chance to hope they’re not coming for you, to lock you up or put out your family’s house. It’s danger at its most immediate, that blaring red. When you’re miles from anything else and that one red eye’s barreling toward you.

But in the city, it’s never for you; the odds are in your favor. And maybe you worry how you’ll get out of it’s way, but as long as you think a little blessing for whoever, it’s calming and makes you think you’re a better person. Then again, when you’re in a bad mood, maybe, or not feeling quite right, and the first thought when you hear it coming is if you’re going to miss your light. Fuck.

That’s when you know there is no soul left. It’s all spent pleasure—not that I believe in the soul, really. But it would be nice and it’s a pretty thing to say.

.

Thing is, now that he’s gone, when I’m up in the tower pretending to sleep or crossing the street with my headphones having drowned out everything else, one of those bastards whoops its approach and my first thought is run. Look people in the eyes again and see who’ll take me under. It’s like having left the city where if the pain is coming, it’s coming for me, even when it’s not. And those thousand sirens you once heard and held out, or said a prayer for, are the first sign that you’ve lost, they’ve found you, and they’re going cut him out of you any way they can.

2 Comments:

Blogger mehmet said...

It doesn’t take an angry person to be angry in times like these, everything handed to us, everything piping hot in winter and ice all summer.

,

And maybe you worry how you’ll get out of it’s way, but as long as you think a little blessing for whoever, it’s calming and makes you think you’re a better person.

&

That’s when you know there is no soul left. It’s all spent pleasure—not that I believe in the soul, really. But it would be nice and it’s a pretty thing to say.

...

I'm glad you're out there somewhere, Billy.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006 4:20:00 PM  
Blogger whoami123 said...

.
We work like a horse.
We eat like a pig.
We like to play chicken.
You can get someone's goat.
We can be as slippery as a snake.
We get dog tired.
We can be as quiet as a mouse.
We can be as quick as a cat.
Some of us are as strong as an ox.
People try to buffalo others.
Some are as ugly as a toad.
We can be as gentle as a lamb.
Sometimes we are as happy as a lark.
Some of us drink like a fish.
We can be as proud as a peacock.
A few of us are as hairy as a gorilla.
You can get a frog in your throat.
We can be a lone wolf.
But I'm having a whale of a time!

You have a riveting web log
and undoubtedly must have
atypical & quiescent potential
for your intended readership.
May I suggest that you do
everything in your power to
honor your encyclopedic/omniscient
Designer/Architect as well
as your revering audience.
As soon as we acknowledge
this Supreme Designer/Architect,
Who has erected the beauteous
fabric of the universe, our minds
must necessarily be ravished with
wonder at this infinate goodness,
wisdom and power.

Please remember to never
restrict anyone's opportunities
for ascertaining uninterrupted
existence for their quintessence.

There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity
under heaven. A time to be
born and a time to die. A
time to plant and a time to
harvest. A time to kill and
a time to heal. A time to
tear down and a time to
rebuild. A time to cry and
a time to laugh. A time to
grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones
and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a
time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to
throw away. A time to tear
and a time to mend. A time
to be quiet and a time to
speak up. A time to love
and a time to hate. A time
for war and a time for peace.

Best wishes for continued ascendancy,
Dr. Whoami


P.S. One thing of which I am sure is
that the common culture of my youth
is gone for good. It was hollowed out
by the rise of ethnic "identity politics,"
then splintered beyond hope of repair
by the emergence of the web-based
technologies that so maximized and
facilitated cultural choice as to make
the broad-based offerings of the old
mass media look bland and unchallenging
by comparison."

Wednesday, April 19, 2006 4:20:00 PM  

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