Chanting

I would rather be out there in the streets with junkies looking for fixes in the back alleys behind the Chinese restaurant, where the owner, the last one there, dumps out the trash and stares with insectile eyes at the young mother dying of cold with her unborn, dying of hunger, aching for a shot of H. John’s mind was separated from his brain, and his brain from his body until all of his body parts became alien and self-amputated.

”I wonder how many more like this one they will bring us,” orderly Brody wondered, “Hope not too many, it gives me the creeps to see them."

"Yeah, you better shut up, ‘cos you’re giving me the creeps."

"I was talking to doc Holloway the other day, ‘They real slimy,’ I told him. ‘Don’t worry, Brody, we will get them cleaned up and smelling of fresh soap in no time.’ ‘Yeah?’ I said, ‘Well they ain’t much more than junkies to me.’ Bu I don’t know if I meant it. My cousin was like that, you know?"

"I said shut up, Brody.”

Meanwhile, the nun opens the window to let the cold in. The cold lets her focus on the afterlife, lets her distance herself from the flesh.

Old ladies inviting queers for dinner, they like to be seen in their company. Young women like the old ladies, because it allows them to be associated with high culture they were brought up to admire, but not taught where to find. They all drink expensive wine together, out there, behind ancient walls of stone, and walls of custom.

Pirated sensitivities, stolen sentiments, I lose myself and there is no way to make sense of it all. The secret police infiltrates and censors my thoughts so they are compatible with the minds of the other, like a penis will fit a vagina or an ass hole. But penises (peni?) are created like that by the great Engineer, and about thoughts he forgets. Maybe they are out of his control. Maybe sleepless drags are Gods as well, and so are drivers, and stragglers, and mechanics, and hookers, and junkies looking for fixes.

”Buy me a plane ticket,” she said, “And I will be happy. Away from here. Away from everything. Oh, please, John. Please, do this one thing for me and I will be ever so grateful.”

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk