Dear Diary

Today I cried in class. We were assigned to do a ninety second monologue from a play. Mine was from Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. I studied all weekend and I could barely memorize a paragraph. When it came for my turn to act, I acted out a few stanzas then que’d an audience member to give me a hint for the next line. Then I had to keep having a student give me lines, one at a time, until finally I had to take the paper and read it out loud. I sat down and then realized why I couldn’t memorize such a task. It’s because of my fucking medication. I could feel it in my head. I couldn’t think at all as to what sentence came when. Then a few tears trickled down my face, until finally I burst into tears and fled the room. I talked to my teacher and told him that I was going to find someone with a lighter for a cigarette. I walked to a nearby convenience store and picked up a book of matches. I smoked a cigarette. On my way back, I passed Howard General Hospital and I have flicked it off.

I’m going to Sheppard Pratt today to visit my counselor. And while I’m there, I’m going to talk to my psychiatrist. And I’ll tell him, “Thanks, but no thanks. With this medication, I can’t remember a ninety second monologue at all. Get me off of this shit.”

I also lost another pack of cigarettes today! I think I might as well quit. Oh, about ten minutes ago - I walked up to a cute asian girl in the computer lab of HCC, and passed her note reading, "Hi! I think you're very beautiful. I'm having a bad day and I thought I'd do something, like try to cheer someone up. Take care! Paco"

Blueberry Acai

Hello! Hola! Aloha! Adios! Hola! Ahola! Hello! Hi! Hey! You there! I say hello in so many different languages. Pardon me, I’m drunk. I speak en espanol. My word processor can’t process that espanol is literally a word! I haven’t kissed a girl in months! Let me go! Take off my t shirt! Listen to Reel Big Fish (they’re groovy)! So today I bought cigarettes and a forty. I also went to a bar. Some jerk said to his wife, “Hey, I think I look younger than him” and I said, “you do!” We laughed and drank beer. Then I left. It wasn’t very fun. So what else is new. I stole caffeine pills from a local store, the lady yelled at me and called the police. T.J. (the gas station attendant) told me this. I went back there today and bought caffeine pills. She was very cool and acted like it never happened. I hope I haven’t driven her insane like so many chicks. I’m going to pass out and take a nap. I’m sweaty. Leave me alone! You’re not even talking to me! Tomorrow I’m going to my college to act out a monologue from Death of a Salesman with a fellow peer and aid. It’ll be fun. Then I’ll ride the Howard Transit to my house to play 78” vinyl albums. I’ll blast it and make sure it’s turned on to 11. My receiver only goes to 10 but with my imagination it goes to eleven. Even at 10 - it gets very loud. My mom will shout, “Paul! Turn it down!” and I’ll say, “I can’t hear you! The music’s too loud! I should turn it down!” Then we share syringes and shoot heroin. I’m just kidding! No I’m not. You decide.

So If this was the twilight zone, would I meet Rod Sterling? I heard he died of tobacco poisoning. This should be a warning to me since I also smoke tobacco (but it comes in the form of cigarettes). I frequently smoke cigarettes. I puff on them (“puff, puff” {this is the sound of cigarettes [they taste so good^\I‘m so confused by all the weird symbols!/]})^@%!&!^%@#&*@(. I just cursed in F.C.C. language. (Fuckers!) Censor that you whores! Please don’t throw me in prison. I like my name!

Once I was riding my bicycle when I was a kid, I closed my eyes and rode the bike without any hands, then very soon I went flying mid air and landed on the hard pavement. Luckily, It was so long ago, I can’t remember the pain. It’s just a funny story! But it really happened! I assure you (we’re open)-that was a Clerks joke). That was a good movie. I was once a clerk. In a land so very much like this one. My first job was unloading groceries for a shitty supermarket entitled Mars Supermarkets. Conservative pricks! My second job was Dunkin’ Donuts. That sucked too. But at least I carried home trash bags full of donuts. I’d bring them in for my friends and they’d all surround me like I was a celebrity and I’d joke and say, “Why don’t you eat this filth like stinkin’ rats!” I’m just kidding again. I never once said that. There was a time though, It was snowing and I had to ride my bike home in the snow. It was very cold. And I bitched for a long time to my mother because she locked both locks on the door. I said, “You knew I was coming home! Why would you lock both locks, it’s so cold outside!” Then one day an employee said to me, “You’re working 4 a.m. tomorrow morning.” And I said, “Oh no, I put in my two weeks, two weeks ago.” I no longer worked there. AND THEN since I had a 8mm film projector at my disposal (at my house), I applied to AMC movie theatres in Columbia and marked off the position entitled projectionist. I also wrote, “I have experience. I work with an 8mm projector at my house.” Pretty soon I was hired and there was lovely times there, getting stoned, playing guitar, talking to preps, talking to girls, throwing things off the roof, yelling into a walkie talkie because the Cheesecake Factory used the same channel, writing my name on splices, fucking with the audio! Too much fun to name! I worked there for awhile until one day I went crazy and thought that I was a character like Winston Smith of 1984. I abused cough syrup and I hallucinated crazily! I assure you I saw colors so vibrant! Crayola could never create the kind of colors I saw that week. Long story, cut short, I landed myself in a psych ward and devastated one romantic relationship with a girl. I was in agony for years. Very depressed. I worked many side jobs and poorly attended college classes. No amount of drugs nor fun could ever pull me from that depression. Until one day I said to myself, “Maybe there’ll be a day, one day, that she remembers me.” So I listen to a Reel Big Fish song spool lyrics like this, “everybody’s lookin’ at me, thought I saw my face on mtv or a magazine that she won’t read, stole her heart but it’s not my fault, lookin’ at my picture she forgot about her boyfriend, yea.” But I’ve moved on and surely made an ass outta myself to countless amount of friends.

Now I’m on the brink of survival. Just hangin’ in there. There is one girl I like. You might know since I’ve already laid the shell in the ocean. I’m just so weary of threatening things. Like my medication. I’m much happier without it. But I can’t afford a car or an education without my parents helping me. But I’m afraid they won’t help me if I stop taking my medication. So I need to find a fucking job so I can grow up, and be one crazy man. This is what I’m destined to be. I hate this shit. But mania is only there in the faint distance. I can’t wait!

I am very close to getting my license back. The Thought Police took it away from me a year ago. I’m going to go to the MVA like I did when I was seventeen and pretend like Marlon Brando that there are drivers around me, and get my license! Finally! Then I can take out one pretty girl to the ocean and walk into hotels, getting stopped by security, saying, “Are you staying at this hotel?” and I’d say, “Run, L**y, run!!! Then I’d trip and my tongue would hit a stone (that was dosed with lsd and trip!). The nice chlorine smell of the air would tickle my senses and I’d shout “Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful! Who ever invented such a wonderful smelling smell! I love chlorine!” And L**y would fret, “The fuckers! They’ve even dosed the stones! No!!!!!!!!!!! I must save you!!!” She puts on her roller skates and skates to the channel that directs that run off of chlorine. “Not this time!”, she says. Suddenly the cool air smells like air freshener and towels. “Where’s that lovely smell!” I say. “It’s gone Paul!” “No!!!! Chlorine!! Does this hotel have the hockey game?” “Yes, it’s downstairs, but we don’t have any money!” “Fuckin’ Thought Police.” (That’s what I said).

Soon enough the colors, effervescent sounds, smells, feeling of the hotel vanished. I woke up in Ellicott City. “What the fuck happened?! Where’s L**y?! Where’s the hockey game?! God dammit!” “Where’s the hockey game?” I hear a voice from behind a nearby mailbox. “Do not move. Stand up and put your hands above your head!” I was suddenly surrounded by men wearing Capri shorts and black tank tops. “We’ve got you 4617987654321!” “How do you know my name?!” I shouted. “We’ve named you since the beginning!”, said the man in front. “Where’s L**y!” “Who’s L**y?” “Don’t gimme that shit! I was talking to her just a moment ago!” “There is and never once was a girl named L**y.” “You sons of bitches. I’ll throw rocks through your windows and put sugar in your gas tanks, you fuckin’ whores! Tell me where she is!” All of a sudden a man from the back, came up front and hit me on the side of the head with a large rock.

I was disillusioned. I was looking all around me, trying to gather just exactly where I was that I was at. I was in Howard County General Hospital. I looked at the art work on the hallways as I was being wheeled into the Psychiatric Ward of the hospital. “Oh fuck! Not again!”, I said. Soon enough, I recognized an aid who I’d met before. “Hey John,” he said. “What the fuck! My name’s not John!” I knew exactly why he had called me John. Earlier, when I was hospitalized at the age of 20, I had sworn he was John Malkovich. This was his pay back. Pretty soon I was surrounded by security guards who pushed me into the quiet room. They threw me down on a blue mattress and drugged me with attavin. Then they closed the door behind them, locking me in. Just one camera positioned in the upper corner of the room. I flicked off the camera and spat on the window of the door. “Fuck you, man! Fuck you!” I was growing anxious and extremely tired. I sang “Sittin’ on my Sofa” by the Kinks to myself. Then I laid on the mattress and passed out.

To Be Continued…

Alice in New York

My head hurts so fucking bad from lack of nicotine!

no impulse to shirk

Hello and fuck you! Boobaboobaboobachoo. I’m just kidding! I’m sitting in a computer lab at HCC because I have no car. Yesterday, I wanted a cigarette, so I chased a girl and yelled, “hey pretty girl!” and she gave me a cigarette. A fellow classmate of mine named Demetrie brought up marijuana so we ended up smoking in her car. I was so high, that I gave horrible directions and Melissa ended up in Silver Spring. I said, “take a U turn!” and then the car to her left smashed into her left door. Now I feel so bad about this.

I figured it was ironic that we got in a car accident after being in a class discussing life changing events. I also think it’s a bit ironic that the accident might’ve appeared on the internet and might’ve been televised when I’m just starting 1984. Though that’s not really Big Brother but, whateva.

So I am going to enjoi my hottest hallucinations and type another weird story for Lexy to read! Goodbye readers! Whoever you are, bless your buttons.

Talk Talk free my mind loser!@

1. I am typing at a very slow pace. I talked to a gentleman today, I forgot his name. Dammit! I really thought I’d remember. I bummed a cigarette off him; he was wearing a Pillsbury Doughboy t shirt. I’m so shitty with remembering people’s names. I’m going to an acting class in 10 minutes and we have to do a 5 minute monologue where we’ve learned something. So I’m going to talk about how I hallucinated for a week from doing cough syrup when I was 20. I’ve got 3 minutes left. I’m freaking out! Help me! Sedate me! Seduce me. Sexy me. Talk to me freaky. I’m going to ask Lexy out on a date tomorrow! Hopefully she doesn’t have a boyfriend, nor hoping she isn’t reading this so I can surprise her tomorrow!

Loose

Aloha comrades! I’m bringing the latest dosage of tubular bodacious sounds from a tingly tangly web of words. I got Fun House spinning on the record player and I’m feeling quite groovy. Not much is happening in my life. I’m in an acting class now, that’s pretty fun. Yesterday a few of the students asked me, “are you stoned?” and I said, “yes.” Now I’m sitting here drinking invisible beer thinking of what I’ll do tonight. or now. I broke my electric guitar and my acoustic guitar doesn’t have a g string. So I can’t record any material. Far out!

The Acoustic Kool-Aid Acidic Bubble Bath

“Nineteen”, Sarah said, “Are you positive?”

“Honey” I said hastily. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“But where did it come from?”

“I just saw it lying there. Right next to him.” I glanced across the room, at the lamp sitting on her desk, and out the window where a bird had flown.

“But it makes no sense!”

“Sarah… that’s why it makes perfect sense.” I said.

“Devon, I hope you’re not just jumping to conclusions.”

At this moment I noticed that the folders on her cabinet weren’t even in alphabetical order. I looked down at my watch. It had disappeared. I had sworn to myself that the time was eleven past four. But my watch was gone, how could I be so sure. I didn’t know. And to tell you honestly. I wasn’t so sure about the number nineteen either. It just came to me. Out of a whim, you know. Not really thinking. That wasn’t my game. To Think. I just stood there, looking Sarah in the eye. She just had this credible look on her face that the number nineteen just might be the underlying factor to the case.

“Devon” She said, as she shifted positions in her loveseat. “This could make or break the case! If it isn’t the number nineteen. We’ll be thrown back - all the way to hell!”

“Sarah, you just have to believe me this time.” I exclaimed.

Than it struck me. The darkness of the office. The moon in the sky. The skyline of the city. The piece of gunk on my shoe.

“This isn’t Seattle at all.” I said to myself.

At this point I noticed I was still holding on to a slice of pizza that I had ordered just earlier that evening. I had daydreamt again. My mind just a botchery. Those nights that I had spent with Sarah were in the past now. Just a figment of my imagination. But could I be so sure… It seemed so relevant to me. The number nineteen. It proceeded twenty and yet… came after eighteen. I had once been nineteen. But that was a long time ago. A time when I was content with the evening sky and the shadow of the moon on the sidewalk in front of my apartment.

I decided to get up off my couch and fix myself a cup of coffee. I had no sugar or cream. But then again… Did I really need it. I preferred my coffee with sugar and cream. So I insisted myself that I go downstairs to the café and use some of their sugar and cream.

I got dressed and walked outside. Opened the door for a young lady and walked into Pochino’s. I poured some of their sugar and cream into my coffee and walked on down the street. At this moment I felt a tremendous headache coming on. I felt it was a hangover. Or something of the sort. I looked around and I just couldn’t quite know what city I was standing in. Someone passed me by with a cigarette and I asked If I could have one. He said No. Then I said okay.

After looking out at the traffic of the city, I turned around and headed back up to my apartment. While walking up the stairs, I ran into a girl I once knew in high school. Her name was Cindy.

“Hi Cindy” I said.

“Hey Devon, how are you?” Cindy asked.

“I’m fine. Just walked downstairs for some sugar and cream in my coffee. How are you today?”

“Oh, I’m doing alright. Ted and I broke up last night. So I’m getting over that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Ted…? He was the guy who wore Hawaiian shirts frequently right?”

“Yep” Cindy said. “That’s him.”

“That’s right. You guys both came over to my place once. We watched that movie about the man who read books.”

“Fahrenheit 451.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s a great movie. Even better as a book! Say Devon. Why don’t you come over to my apartment sometime. We can have some coffee and talk about all the fun we had back in high school!”

“That sounds great Cindy. I’ll definitely take you up on it.” I said.

Cindy walked away. She had soft blonde hair and a blue dress. We both went to high school together. I walked back to my apartment and opened the door. I looked around the empty place and not one thing was moving.

“Wow. My life is bore. All I do is drink coffee and smoke marijuana, from time to time. Can it get better than this?” I asked myself sarcastically. I then confused myself with my own sarcasm because I actually enjoyed marijuana. So I set the cup of coffee down on the table and stood thinking. “What shall I do today?”

I walked over to the window and looked down at the cars passing by. “Wouldn’t it be nice if I had a car.” I said sadly then lit a cigarette that I had in my pocket.

I looked through the vinyl of my record collection, looking for a suitable record to play for the morning. I found a Sun Ra album and placed it on the turntable. I sat back down on the couch and sat thinking.

“Now where was I with the number nineteen?”

Instantaneously. My phone rang.

“Devon! Devon! Is that you?! Devon!”

“Quiet!” I remarked to the anonymous caller.

“Oh Devon, it is you. How wonderful. This is Mike. Remember? We had dinner last week. We were talking about those Federico Fellini films that we saw at your place with that projector you have.”

“Oh, hey Mike!” I shouted, my throat eloped with enthusiasm.

“How are you?”

“I’m doing okay. What was it you were calling for?”

“I wanted to know if you’d like to go out to a bar with me tonight. I’ve got some hashish. It will be a great time.”

“Mike. Mike. Mike… That sounds defining. I’ll be sure to RSVP right now!”

“Cool. Then I’ll pick you up at eight this evening.”

“Sounds tiger……”

“What was that?”

“That sounds terrific!” I said as quickly as I could to cover up the infamous note that I had just blurted out the word tiger.

“Okay Devon” I’ll pick you up tonight.”

“Alright.”

I hung up my phone and sat down. How righteous to attend a bar with my good friend Michael (whose nickname was Mike).

I looked over in my pants, inside the pocket, I found a small bag of whom some might say… Mary Jane. I proceeded to pack a bowl with my pirate pipe I had sitting on my table. “How delightful!” I thought. Pretty soon, after a few delicious tokes, I was stoned. I stood up and then fell down because my foot had been stuck on a piece of lint underneath my coach.

“I wonder what Cindy is doing tonight?” I pondered.

I walked over to her place and knocked on her door.

“Knock. Knock.” shouted the door.

“Hi Devon.” She sounded a little confused.

“Hey, it’s Devon”

“I know” replied Cindy.

“Hey… would you like to go to the movies with me tonight?”

“Devon. Are you asking me out on a date, the day after I just broke up with my boyfriend?”

“Yes”. I articulated.

“Well… I do feel kind of lonely so I’d like some company. But no funny business mister!” Cindy said.

“Funny business. I don’t even have a job!” I said.

She understood and we walked down the hall.

It was at this moment I saw a Van Gogh painting on the wall.

“That’s beautiful” I remarked.

“Oh yeah.”

“Damn, he was such a good painter.”

“Vincent’s the best!” Cindy added.

We both walked down the stairs and talked about the times we were in high school, talking during lunchtime. And recess. It was Cindy’s birthday next week, she was turning twenty four. We finally walked outside into the fresh air of night and she said to me “Do you have a light?” “Yeah, I do.”

We smoked our cigarettes against the city’s traffic and conversed until we had nothing to converse about any longer.

I put my cigarette out in a ashtray and walked with Cindy down the street.

“Hey, look! Jupiter Antiques!” I shouted.

“Oh cool, I’d like to go in there.”

“Than, we shall!”

Cindy took my hand and we entered the store. There I saw a lot of Twilight Zone VHS cassette tapes, lamps, rugs, beads, 8mm films, books, trading cards, chairs, tables, glasses, cups, plates, and vinyl.

“Devon, I bet this place has one good record for us.”

“Yeah, let’s look!”

I scuffled through boxes and boxes and boxes of vinyl. So dusty! Yet nothing to my temperament. Cindy yelled, “Holy shit!” then covering her mouth with the recognition that she was in an antique store.

“Devon! You’re not going to believe what I found!”

“What’s that?”

“Raw Power, by Iggy and the motherfucking Stooges.”

“No Way!!!” I fell back, exerting myself and stood back up. “You found Raw Power!”

“Quiet!”

An old lady yelled towards us.

“Sorry.” I replied.

“It’s okay. But keep your voices down.”

Cindy and I then walked out Jupiter Antiques.

“Cindy, you found that one record you were looking for!” I said to Cindy.

“Yeah, this kills. Let’s play it.”

Cindy and I casually walked back to our building so we could play this masterpiece entitled “Raw Power”.

I had actually owned a copy of it since I was a tremendous Stooges fan and had all of their albums. But Cindy… she had not. She told me that her brother Jabari had taken her copy.

Cindy unlocked the door and we walked inside her apartment. I sat down on the couch and she walked into the bathroom. I looked around her place and saw posters of Jimi Hendrix, the Doors, the Beatles, and the Fugs.

“Man”, I thought. “This chick really digs music.”

Cindy came out and walked over to the couch towards me.

“Hey Devon”

“Hey Cindy”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure”.

Cindy walked over to the kitchen where she poured a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” I said.

We were both sitting on her bar stools in her fashionable apartment.

“Are you going to play the record?”

“oh yeah…”

Cindy grasped the Stooges’ album and placed it neatly on the turntable. Then placing the stylus on the record, I could hear the crude white noise that proceeded the actual album.

^@&*!*@#&@(!*@&@#(@

(That’s my way of showing that the record was playing.)

“Would you like anything to drink?” asked Cindy.

“Do you have any Vodka?”

“I do! And you know what I’ve got. Vincent Van Gogh Double Shot Espresso Vodka!”

“Holy shit! Did I just wake up in the twilight zone?!”

Cindy laughed. “Maybe. Here, have some.”

She poured me a few shots of the drink and I slurped them down like a tiny bird on a penguin.

“Woah. Okay. I’m drunk.” I blurted.

Cindy poured three shot glasses of the vodka and drank them, one by one.

“Now I’m drunk too.”

By this time we had just exchanged conversations.

“Devon, I had a nice night. But I think it’s best you go.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still in love with Ted”

“So….”

“I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

“What does this mean to me?”

“It means that I don’t want Ted to find out you’re in my apartment.”

“Who cares about Ted?” I enquired.

“I do!” exclaimed Cindy

“Okay.”

“Okay. So Leave.”

“Alright.”

I boasted outside of the apartment. She then threw the Raw Power album at me.

“Get out of here, Devon! No one likes you.”

“But I live right here. Next door.”

“SLAM!” yelped the doorknob of suite 608.

I sadly swiveled in one place and rotated 90 degrees to my own door. I felt inside my pockets. I had no key.

“God Damnit!” I yelled. “Fuck. Fuck! Fuck. Fuck! Fuck. Shit! Fuck.”

“Where in the hell could this key have been” I thought to myself. It was at that moment that I pinpointed the exact moment the key dropped out of my pocket and onto the floor. It was in Cindy’s apartment. I remembered because when it hit the floor I said, “oh there’s my key.”

I thought I was quite out of luck at this point but I knocked on the door.

“What?” Cindy asked.

“I lost my key. It’s right there. I can see it.”

“Fine, get your key.”

“Thanks” I said.

So I picked up my key and walked out the door.

“Bye Cindy!” I said.

“Fuck you!” she replied.

I opened the door to my apartment.

I looked around cautiously. I decided to not go into the apartment and dive into the craziness of the city, So I closed the door. The evening had begun. I walked down the steps of my apartment building, then outside to smoke a cigarette.

“Puff. Puff.” whispered the cigarette that I was inhaling. It felt good to be smoking. I really enjoyed it. No matter what bull shit life handed towards me I could always see eye to eye with a cigarette. So calm and yet so mellow. And when I’m on drugs. They just give me a boost!

“Devon?” said a man wearing a brown sweater.

“That’s me.” I proclaimed!

“I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“Your life, may be in danger.”

“How?”

“From smoking those cigarettes like you do there.”

“Fuck you. I’ll die when I die. And further more, I would like a notice when I’m going to die. That way I can throw a crazy party in my apartment with a banner greeting everyone “I’ll meet you in Heaven!”

“What if there’s no heaven?”

“Then I’ll be reincarnated as a bird or a pencil.” (Myself? I’d rather be a bird. And I don’t know if pencils have souls. I doubt it. And to state the case to everyone I don’t believe in souls either but I think I believe in an afterlife or maybe like a reincarnation. I mean. It’s hard to explain. Say that I may be the reincarnation of John Lennon and Jimi Hendrix combined. Because they both died before I was born. And I’m kind of a spiritual person and when that thought came to me about John Lennon, I was washing my hands at the time and the water splashed the walls on both sides! I swear this happened! And I really enjoy their music. I can air guitar to their jams right on beat and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. That’s what I think and I know that I’m really good at playing air guitar. If only I’d able to apply that same vigor to an actual guitar. I’m just too lazy, you know. You have to tune it so often. And replace the strings. I forgot how to do that too. And I fucking forgot that my electric guitar broke just after I recorded my last song! -at least I got the stupid song recorded.) (You know what was weird too? I was at Howard Community College walking to my father’s car wearing cool orange sun glasses and when I got in the car the NPR radio announced, “He’s wearing khaki shorts.” I was wearing khaki shorts at the time! Freaked me out so silly. Reminded me of the Truman Show. So freaky.)

“I don’t believe in reincarnation.”

“What do you think happens when you die?” I asked.

“Worms eat us and we evaporate like ninjas in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles arcade game , except they blew up. But that‘d be kind‘ve cool to blow up when you die, like stepping on a land mine.”

“Don’t change the subject. Although that was a sweet game.” I added.

“I don’t think nothin’ happens when you die.” he said.

“Well something’s gonna happen when I die you asshole! People are gonna miss me! And all those girls that never even accepted date invitations from me are gonna wish they were sitting in my car listening to Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs “Wooly Bully” cruising down the highway drinking champagne in the sun. Some people will crying at my funeral (though, can I state to the public that when I die. Pour my ashes in the pacific ocean so the fish with the incredible tiny minds will telecommunicate without talking will say “I don’t want to eat this shit!”) And there’ll be about two pictures standing straight up because I’m not very photogenic. And I’ll be by myself in both pictures because I’ve got no pictures of me with any girls…”

“I won’t be attending your funeral”, he said.

“First thing, I don’t care. Second thing, you’re going to be missing out because I’ll have cool bleached hair because they will bleach my hair when I’m dead. And it won’t hurt as much cause my scalp will have no sensitivity!”

“You don’t actually believe in Heaven, do you?”

“I don’t actually call it Heaven. But I think a place like that actually exists. Have you ever read, “God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian” By Kurt Vonnegut. I doubt it. Because it seems to me, a gentleman like yourself doesn’t read. But I’d recommend “Cat’s Cradle”. It was a good book but I read about three pages of it. Because I’m still in the middle of a Jimi Hendrix biography. Also in the middle of “The Power Elite” which is a powerful work of non fiction, “The Portable Sixites Reader”, “Food of the Gods”, “Howl and other poems by Allen Ginsberg”, “The Catcher In The Rye” by J.D. Salinger. I read that in high school. I remember absoluty nothing about it and that brings to mind the question of having “Did I even read it?” “The Stranger.” That’s a good one. Though the main character reminded me a lot about myself and he was executed at the end. That bummed me out. I thought it was going to have a happy ending! And I finished it at a girls’ roller derby practice and I was appointed the one filming the scene and at this point, I was pissed off.. “God Dammit” I said to myself, “He fucking dies!” So I determined “I’ll get this gunk in funk”. So I scantily took the film equipment (which was a video camera) and filmed my ass off. Stood looking very seriously at the girls and probably freaking them out. I was until the appropriate time that I went out for a cigarette, I ran into Lexy. She’s a cute girl. She asked “Will you remember my name?” I said, “Sure, I will”. Soon I thought of plexie glass. I still don’t know what plexie glass is or how to spell it. But anyway I’ll remember her name is Lexy the next time I run into her. Though I think she’s dating a fellow. And I’m mellow. Fuck.”

“Now you’re off subject.”

“Care to have cigarette?”

“Why? Sure I will. I’ve never smoked before. I think I’ll give it a try. Thanks! It’ll only take off a day of my life.”

“Yep. And it’ll be some day when you’re delirious in bed at age ninety nine looking at 3D television saying, “Why are there so many commercials? Episodes only last fourteen minutes now. It seems every time I turn on the Everlasting Tube there’s always a fucking commercial! I don’t use toothpaste. I don’t brush my own teeth!” And then you’ll die with a clean mouth from smoking this cigarette you are now seventy years ahead of schedule. And why not drop some acid too. But I don’t have some in my shoe. I just wanted to say that because it rhymes. Then I giggled.

“Feweeee. I’m almost out of cigarettes.”

“You know, these bombs are quite tasty. No wonder you smokers inhale so frequently under the sun not caring when you’ll die. It’s very rebellious. I admire you.”

“Thank you.”

It was at this time I took the bus uptown. To a record store in my neighborhood. Was this Baltimore? I forgot. I’m too lazy to reread everything I’ve written and I’ve surely driven myself insane from reading “The Stranger” and writing nonsensical poetry day in, and day out.

“Hey! How are you doing today?” asked a young girl with brownish hair. She had brownish eye color too. She was hot.

“I’m doing okay. Do you work here?” I enquired..

“Yes. Is there anything I can help you find today?”

“Well. There are. I’m looking for the Moody Blues, the Velvet Underground, and the Troggs. For now. But I think I can find them myself because I graduated from elementary school.”

“Oh.”

I then regretted saying this out loud because I thought of her very beautiful.

“Okay”. She said. And walked away.

“Wait.” I scampered.

“Yes?”

“Can you help me find something by Davie Allan? … I think he’ll come before anyone with a B in their last name.”

“Yeah! There’s a record here. The Phantom Surfers’ and Davie Allan!”

“I don’t know who the Phantom Surfers are but fantastic! I’ve learned something new!”

“Would you like to go on a date?” she quickly blurted out of her lips so sensuously.

“Yes. But I might have to change these clothes. I might not be allowed in the restaurant enduring under the penalties of laws dictating I wear fancy clothes.”

“It doesn’t matter.” exclaimed this pretty anonymous girl (Her name was Mindy- I found out later when we were in bed.) “I don’t care what you wear.” she said.

“Well, I do. And I don’t like what I’m wearing.. So I’m going to take the bus downtown to my apartment so I can change my shirt and maybe my pants and take the bus back uptown to see you!”

“That sounds fine. You’ll look like a gentleman.”

“That’s the idea.”

So I walked out of the record store with my new groovy LP and waited at the bus stop. I smoked another cigarette and looked directly at the sun.

“It’s so far away.” proclaimed someone sitting on a bench.

“A few miles.” I said.

“More than that!”

“No. How Much?” I asked.

“Try 92 million miles.”

I hesitated and quickly blurted out the word “Kabangachang!” instead of fuck because I don’t like cursing in front of strangers. “That would take me like, a whole summer to walk to the moon.”

Then he said to me, “You can’t walk to the moon. In order to even go there, you should’ve attended all your classes in high school that way you’ll get into NASA. Once in NASA you’ll be in the flight simulation test spinning around the rounded room going 90 miles an hour and your face will look like jelly. Then hopefully your Space Shuttle won’t explode before you lift off. And once you’re even headed toward the Sun you’ll find you’ll be very bored without internet and just a few books that you’ve decided to bring along with you. And once your near the Sun, your space shuttle will be going as fast as light speed and you’ll evaporate like dust! But that wouldn‘t happen because NASA never sends shuttles to the sun.”

“I don’t bother. I’m quite content having the Sun be exactly where it is. And if we’re talking philosophy here. I think the Sun has a soul. Since I’ve done drugs and when doing them the sun shines when I’m having a good mood and I feel connected with him” I said.

“The Sun is a star. That’s final.”

“That’s not what I was saying!”

It was at this point the bus came to our stop. I walked onto the bus and wishing I had a walkman sat down with nothing. I was bored. Sitting on a bus headed nowhere. Well, It was in fact headed toward the town that I lived. Just a few blocks down the road. I might as well of walked there and not spent my last two dollars on the bus. But that’s how I remind myself that I’m stupid. I do these things.

So I got off the bus and walked toward my apartment building. There were some kids on the ground playing pogs and I sat down to greet them.

“Hey? Can I play?”

“Do you have any pogs?” this boy named Jasper enquired..

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Well, where can I buy pogs?” I asked.

“Toys R Us doesn’t sell them anymore.” he said..

“What?! Then how do you have pogs!”

“I got mine from Christmas last year. That’s the last year they sold ‘em.”

“Motherfucker!” I then cupped my mouth realizing I had just cursed in front of a child.

“Fuck.” I said and said goodbye and walked back up to my apartment.

I walked into my apartment and it was a mess. Clothes everywhere. Records on the floor, cups in disarray, plates upside down (although, that’s not that bad.) I laid down on the couch and looked out the window into the summer sky.

“No amount of drugs is going to pull me from this depression” I said to myself.

“Unless someone gave me adderall. That’s always fun.”

Then I looked way across the room, gazing at a tiny pill that sat under my pillow case.

“No way” I thought.

So I walked across the room and consumed this anonymous pill like Alice in Wonderland and I hoped that I would meet all types of strangers in a strange countryside like she did. I walked back to my couch and waited a long time until something happened. And I assure you it did because my concentration got a whole lot better. So I picked up my Jimi Hendrix book and read at incredible light speed and finished about ten pages, then I put the book down.

Having all this extra energy, I decided to clean up my room a bit. I put on a Cramps LP on my turntable and tossed things all around the place. My apartment was now in a worse condition than it was fifteen minutes before, but I didn’t care at this point.

I felt bad about the way Cindy and I had ended our last conversation so I walked back over to her place. I knocked on the door.

“Hi.” she said.

“Hey Cindy.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you have any alcohol?”

“Yes. But you can’t have any. Because I’m furious with you.”

“What did I do?”

“You hit on me repeatedly.”

“But you’re single.”

“So.”

“I thought that meant okay.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not in love with you.”

At this point I forgot who had said what because I hadn’t labeled the quotes.

“Well I’m not in love with you either!” I pointed out excitedly.

Tears fell down her face.

“I thought you were.”

“Well I was earlier. But I thought you still like Ted.”

“I do.”

“So why are we talking about this? And why are you mad at me? I’m confused.”

“I think you’re a jerk.”

“I don’t think so. I feel that I’m a very nice guy, most of the times. And other times I can be a jerk - that’s true.”

“Just leave me alone.”

I didn’t feel like walking away cause the amphetamines that flowed through my blood kept me very concentrated on the conversation.

“I just want to understand what is happening”, I said.

“Truth is. I don’t know, so come back tomorrow and maybe my mood will change.”

I was agitated so I threw my beer down on the ground and said, “Fine!”

I walked away and came back to pick up my beer. I said to myself, “I don’t remember drinking this beer. But I don’t care because it’s good. Maybe Cindy gave it to me?”

I walked down the stairs and outside to smoke a cigarette.

“Could I have one?”, a boy of about fourteen years of age asked.

“What year were you born?” I enquired.

“Nineteen Ninety Five.”

“So that makes you how old?” I asked.

“Fourteen.”

At this point I forgot what the smoking age was. I thought it was about ten so I gave him one of my last cigarettes.

“Thanks.” he said.

“So what’s your name?”

“Jasper.”

“Didn’t I just talk you a moment ago”.

“Yes you did.”

“How’s the pog game going?” I asked because I was interested.

“We finished about ten minutes ago.”

I hadn’t felt like talking to this kid anymore so I walked back inside my apartment building.

“Motherfucker!”, I yelled. “That son of a bitch stole my last cigarette!” I exclaimed.

I stood for a moment. My mood had dropped into a mild depression. I picked up my mail. More junk mail. “I hate those assholes”, I thought.

I walked back outside and smoked another cigarette. Luckily, I had another pack in my back pocket. “I wish I had pogs. Why is my life so unfair? How can I afford my apartment? Why don’t I have a girlfriend? Wasn’t there things I was supposed to do? Was I supposed to go on a date?” I thought so but wasn’t sure and sure didn’t feel like reading this whole story again to find out.

“What should I do? Are people still reading this story? Do they think I’m strange? I don’t care. Because this is page ten of my story. And I plan on going to page one hundred! Why don’t I have a car? Why am I broke? Should I go back to school? And by school I mean college, not high school. Although high school would be fun. Should I go to blockbuster and rent a movie? They don’t have a good selection. Should I get a Netflix prescription? Would that taste nasty? Should I get a credit card and buy more vinyl? Should I get laid? I think so. I feel like going on a date.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” asked a stranger.

“Yes. Should I watch television? How am I going to afford books? Should I steal books? Should I steal drugs? Am I out of drugs? Is my family reading this story? Probably. Are people talking behind my back in front of me? Is this t shirt too small? I feel it’s a good size. When will I have a baby and a family? How am I going to confront my son or daughter about drugs when I’ve done a lot more drugs than my friends? Will I smoke marijuana with my children? Probably. Will it be potent? Is this controversial? I think so. I’d like to have a fancy car. Am I still talking to myself? When will this story end? Should it be published. I’d like it to be. Where is my stereo? I forgot I broke my electric guitar! I should probably practice it. Am I a good poet? I think I’m a wonderful poet. I can’t wait to run into Lexy and tell her she’s sexy!”

Then I collapsed onto the ground because I was tired. My fellow tenants walked around me and didn’t bother asking If I was okay. I could hear Cindy’s voice trail around my shoulders and then outside. I think it was her that ignored me just like everyone else. I am too fed up with my life to get up and fix dinner. Maybe I’ll just go to a bar and drink. That sounds like a great idea!

So I slowly got up and walked outside to smoke another cigarette. My friends tell me that I’m a chain smoker. I feel that’s impossible because I take short breaks in between my cigarette intakes.

“This cigarette is fantastic!” I yelled into the city. “How do they make them taste so good?!” I proclaimed with a question mark at the end of my sentence. So I smoked my cigarette and then walked on down the street. I’ll fast forward a moment because nothing exciting happened at this point. Only me walking.

I walked into a bar to visit a past girlfriend. She saw me and I waved awkwardly. “This is weird, I think I’d rather just drink.” I missed the prime opportunity to enjoy my joke that I had came up with on my way to the bar. See… She’d meet me in the front and I’d say “Jessica, what a delight! I didn’t know you worked here?!” And she’d say, “But Devon, you visited me here before!” And then I’d say, “I thought that was next door, not here!” And we’d both laugh and I’d say “Gracious.” But instead I waved to her and sat at the bar. No one talked to me for a few minutes and I asked, “What’s the cheapest drink you have here?” The bartender said “Bud.” So I said, “Give me a Budweiser!” She gave it to me and I drank it nonchalantly. Then I got a Vincent Van Gogh Espresso Shot and slurped it down. I didn’t show any nastiness in my face because I wanted people in the bar to think I was cool. I felt a wave of alcohol sweep over my body and I saw the bartender smirk. I saw Jessica on the other side of the bar. Had she forgot about me? Probably. So I ran into her walking outside again to smoke a cigarette. “Hi Jessica!” “Hi Devon. Would you like to go out for a smoke?” I said, “Sure. That’s where I’m headed now!” We walked outside with some other customer whom knew Jessica and I said to myself, “Damn.” They talked for a few minutes and I tried very hard to pay attention to what they said. Then I chimed in and blurted something out of my mouth which I hadn’t recognized with what I originally intended to say. Then I said, “Sorry I’m drunk.” She said it was okay. I noticed she hardly looked at me. Had I previously hurt her feelings in a past but present life. I think so. Gee, I’m a jerk. So I smoked my cigarette and asked, “What college are you going to?” She said, “UMBC.” I realized that must be the eighth time I’ve asked her that because I had I feeling deep down she’s told me that before. Meanwhile, They both walked back inside the bar and I stood outside alone smoking my cigarette because it extended longer than other cigarettes because it was a 100. I had blown my chance. And then I realized, not really, because it was my original intent to act like a fool. So I walked back to the bar and ordered another Budweiser. I did the math in my head. I knew that two beers and a ordered shot would bring my total to 12.50. But I knew that If I drank a second beer, it wouldn’t matter because I’d be drunk and so I could act like an idiot and pretend I hadn’t known. So the bartender told me, “It’s 12.50.” I handed him two five dollar bills and he said, “It’s 12.50.” Then I said, “Oh shit. I thought the beers were three each!” He said, “Nope. 3.50” So I said, “Sorry. All I have is ten.” He looked at me and said, “You should probably bring more than ten dollars to a bar.” At this point I hadn’t cared because I was drunk and out of money. I walked into the bathroom and I heard Jimi Hendrix’ “Voodoo Child” playing on the PA. I felt pretty cool. So I walked back into the bar and said goodbye to Jessica. “Goodbye Devon!” “See ya later Jessica!” I walked away. “Be safe walking back!” I heard her say something so I turned around and asked, “What did you say?” And she said, “Be safe walking back.” I said, “Thanks.”

I was a little bit bummed out that I hadn’t had the chance to share my joke with her. Which I had come up with ten minutes prior to walking into the bar. Maybe on another weekend I could dive into it.

I looked around the city and realized I was lost and out of money. Then I looked deep down in my subconscious and thought, “Having spent my last two dollars on the bus. How did I have ten dollars to spend at the bar?” I ignored this thought and recognized this is a work of fiction. So it really doesn’t matter. Though I should have realized that prior to walking into the bar. But I was drunk. And confused. And depressed.

I walked away and down the street toward my apartment. Jessica was upset with me, Cindy hated me, My only two ex-girlfriends don’t acknowledge me. I don’t have a car, any friends, no money, some records, one refrigerator, and a large apartment that accompanies only me.

“I hate my life! Why to the gods punish me!” I said. “I hope I make them laugh. I should start working on an autobiography and title it “My Life Part. 1” because it’ll be published when I’m twenty five and I’ll have the rest of my life to work on Part. 2. But I’ll probably die young of lung cancer and someone else will have to work on my biography and title it, “Devon’s Life Part 2”.

But no one will read it besides me and I’d rather not work intensely on a book that I’d only read. I remember most of my life. So I’m not going to waste my time.

I walked back up to my apartment and found a twenty dollar bill underneath a cushion on my couch.

“I’m going to order a pizza.” I said to myself.. “A Hawaiian pizza.”

I picked up the phone and looked into the telephone book for a Pizza delivery service.

“Hi. I’d like to order a Hawaiian Pizza.”

“Is this delivery or pick up?” A young girl asked me.

“Delivery.”

“What’s your address.”

I told her my address and left out the quote of me saying my address cause I was out of energy from thinking and hadn’t felt like coming up with a fictional address.

“That’s wonderful. It’ll take fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you”, I said. And put down the receiver.

I sat down on my couch. My mood started to sway and reverberate from doing mass amount of drugs and nicotine throughout the day.

“I’m tired”, I said to myself. “When is the pizza going to get here.”

I walked outside the door of my apartment and placed a note on the door saying, “Come on in and wake me up. I’m on the couch taking a nap.” Then I placed a note on Cindy’s door that read, “You’re a bitch. Love, Devon.”

So I laid down on my couch and tried to go to sleep until the noise from the door awoke me.

“Devon! Devon! Wake up you asshole! I know you’re sleeping on the couch!”

“Leave me alone Cindy! I’m tired of our love affair!”

“You love me?!”

“A little bit! Leave me alone! I’m tired.”

“Devon! I hate you! Get the fuck out of my life you credulous creep! No one likes you! You’re a lousy friend and a poor writer! No one ever reads your stupid poetry and I think you’re a pervert!”

“Fine! That may be your feelings but I think I’m a great writer and I do have some friends!” I then cupped my mouth from realizing I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It would’ve gone over much smoother If she was just under the understanding that I was asleep on the couch.

“Devon! Fuck you!”

Then I heard a noise from outside my apartment that sounded like a lamp being thrown against my door. I waited a little while to walk outside. Then I opened the door to find a broken lamp shattered against the floor.

“Wow, I was right.” I exclaimed.

Then a fellow walked up the stairs with a pizza and said to me, “The total’s 12.50.”

I handed him a twenty dollar bill and said, “Thank you. Excuse the shattered lamp on the floor. By the way, I think the pizza from your company tastes fantastic. That’s why I ordered it today.”

“Thanks” he was flattered and said to me, “I’ll be sure to tell the cooks there you feel that way!”

“Goodbye”, I said. And he walked away.

“Sweet! I have a pizza.” Was that my lamp on the ground outside? I think it was. Then it all made a whole lot more sense. “Fuck….”

I sat down and proceeded to eat the pizza.

“Do I have any parmesan cheese?” I looked into my refrigerator to find I had none.

“Wait. I have beer?” I grabbed a beer can and ate more of my pizza.

After eating half of it, I laid down on my couch and took a short nap. I had a crazy dream about Martians from outer space coming to earth for lack of VHS cassettes on their home planet and finding out the Earth had developed DVD. I woke up and thought that was silly.

“Am I out of drugs? Should I go to NA? Should I go to Alcohol Anonymous? I’m not really an alcoholic. Is it really anonymous, I mean, they all say their names during the meeting.” I found this to be odd. “Do I have any DVD? Was does Blu-Ray mean? And why does it have such a stupid title? Am I an asshole? Gee, I’m tired of typing.. My back hurts. Where is my cell phone. Oh yeah, I accidentally washed it along with the rest of my clothes. Though I intently meant to wash my clothes. Where is my television? It’s right there in front of me. Does Cindy like me? I feel like I was supposed to go on a date tonight? Oh shit! What about that girl at the record store?! (It was during this time I looked over my short story to find the part about the girl at the record store.)

“Mindy!!!!!!!” I exclaimed loudly. I looked down at my invisible watch and looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it had been four hours since I last saw her. The time was 8:26.

“Maybe I can catch the 8:29 bus!” I ran out of my apartment, locked the door and jumped down the stairs and out the door. I quickly lit a cigarette and put it out and caught the bus.

“Fuck!” I forgot my walkman. I realized It hadn’t mattered. What mattered was meeting Mindy at the record store. “Hopefully, she’ll be there.”

Time flew like a monkey come down off a tree and I walked into the record store of which I forgot the name.

“Hi Devon!” Mindy said.

“Oh fuck. I forgot to change my clothes.”

“It’s fine. You look like a gentleman anyway.”

“Thanks darling!” I blushed. “Where should we go out to eat?” Then I realized I was out of money having spent my last 32 dollars for the day.

“I don’t have any money” I said.

“It’s okay. Maybe we can go for a walk in the park?” She said.

“That sounds groovy baby.”

I waited outside for her to finish her shift and I smoked yet another cigarette. I had twenty minutes to wait until she was done.

“Hey Devon! Do you know where the park is?”

“I do not…” Then I looked down at the ground.

“We can just walk down the street walking into boutique shops.”

I really wasn’t up to this idea but felt it necessary if I was going to escort her to bed.

“What kind of music are you into?” Mindy asked me.

“Well, I’ve been listening to Miles Davis lately. The Stooges. That’s about it.”

“Oh yeah? I like Kind of Blue a lot. It’s one of my favorite albums.” she said.

“I don’t know that one.”

“It’s a Miles Davis album. It’s really good.”

“I’ll have to listen to it, maybe at your apartment.”

Mindy was flattered by that comment and we walked down the street.

“Would you like to go for a cup of coffee? I know a beat poetry café uptown that will give us cups of coffee since I regularly read my jive there.”
“That sounds great.”

We walked into this café and I got us two cups of coffee.

“Was that my apartment building?” I enquired.

“I don’t know.”

“I think so. Is this my neighborhood? I remember being here earlier today.”

“You live around here?”

“Yeah, I live right there.” We walked outside and I pointed up into the sky toward my apartment.

“You have a cat?”

“No. I mean, that apartment.” I raised my hand and correctly showed her the right apartment.

“I’m kind of buzzed off this coffee. Can I walk you home?”

“If you’d like to be a gentleman…”

“Which I am!” We both laughed and I walked her home. We kissed under the moonlit sky and we both gazed at the full moon. “Wow, I think I’m in love!” I thought to myself. “She is so pretty!”

Then we kissed again and she walked upstairs to her apartment.

“Give me a call sometime!” She yelled from her window.

“I don’t have your number!” I yelled back.

A tiny piece of paper floated into the wind and into my hand. I looked at it. It had her name and number on it. I pressed it to my heart and it floated down to the sidewalk. I picked it up and put it in my pocket.

“Score!” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow!” I said.

“Bye Devon!”

I walked back uptown or downtown. Which ever way was toward my apartment. I think downtown. I walked past the shattered lamp in the hall and into my apartment, collapsing on the sofa. I slept for awhile.

“I am really out of ideas for this story”, I said to myself. “Should I be writing this. I don’t think so.” So I pulled out another cigarette from my pack and walked outside onto the balcony overlooking the city. Then my room mate Luke joined me for a cigarette.

“How are you Devon?”, he said.

“I’m okay. I went on a date tonight.”

“Oh. With Cindy?”

“No, with a girl named Mindy. But I also went on a date with Cindy too though it didn‘t end well” Wow, had I gone on two dates today? “I am a stud”, I thought.

“Is she nice?”, he asked me.

“Cindy? No.”

“No, I mean Mindy.” he said.

“Yeah Mindy’s nice. She was wearing this dazzling dress and glasses and she had a hair tied like a bow behind her head. It looked fancy. We kissed.”

“Oh gracious Devon. Please leave out these explicit details!”

“They’re not explicit!” We both laughed.

“It’s not like we had sex or nothin’”, I said.

“Well that is explicit.” Luke said.

“But we didn’t…” Then I hung my head in shame.

“Are we out of alcohol?”

“Yes”, Luke said.

“Are we out of marijuana?”

“No. Here’s a joint!”

So we smoked this joint. Then the colors of the city started to glow with delight and I heard all types of noises from below on the street.

“I’m too afraid to walk inside”, I said.

“Well, let me join you.”

“I can do it by myself!” I exerted.

So I slowly stepped into the apartment and looked around. It was at the point a bodacious half naked tramp walked out of Luke’s apartment and greeted me with a welcoming, “Hello!”

“Hey Sandy!”

“How are you Devon?”

“Depressed.”

“How come”, she asked.

“Nothing in my life turns out alright and I’m out of money. I should’ve slept with a girl tonight. Instead, I walked home alone.”

“Would you like to sleep with me?”, she enquired.

“Just us?”

“With Luke, of course.”

“No…. I’ll bypass this situation. I’ll just wait until I go on a date with Mindy.”

“You met a girl?”

“Yep. Her name’s Mindy”.

“How’s Cindy?”

“I don’t care about her anymore. And be careful when walking outside the apartment. There’s broken lamp all over the floor.”

“Thank you. So how’d you meet Mindy?”

“I met her at the record store down by the water. She asked me on a date and so I did it.”

“Well, that’s nice. How did it go?”

“Decent. We kissed but we didn’t sleep together. I wanted to but I was too afraid to ask her.”

“It’s not always about the sex.” She told me.

“It is with me!” I exclaimed.

“Devon. I think you should grow up. Everything is not going to go you way all the time.”

“Well, It should. If I’m put on this Earth, I feel it should. I don’t want to waste my time doing things that aren’t pleasant.”

“That’s a very depressing thought.” She said.

“I don’t care.”

We both looked at each other with confusing looks on our faces.

“Did you rent any movies tonight?” I chimed in.

“Not tonight.”

“We don’t have cable anymore right.” I don’t know why I asked this. Because I don’t usually watch TV. I just didn’t know what else to say.

“Are you stoned?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I thought I told you. That doesn’t always fit your bi-polar mood.” Sandy said.

“No, it always makes me happy whereas in the shitty city I feel depressed.”

“You need friends.”

“I know I do. The only friends I have are you, Luke and Mindy. That’s it.”

“Whatever.” Sandy walked away and back into Luke’s room.

I stood thinking for a moment. I forgot everything I had just conversed with Sandy. Did she just give me advice? I don’t care. Is my electric guitar still broken? I think so. I hope Mindy is happy. Am I broke. Yes. I think that everybody should know exactly when they die - that way, they’re more productive. I’m not very productive. I don’t have a job. And I sure as hell can’t afford this apartment. Am I out of cereal? Are Trix for kids? I think they should be for adults who feel young too. I feel like a teenager. I’m sick of reading non-fiction - I feel it’s not very exciting. I hate junk mail. I’m too gullible online. I want to go to Disneyland. I want a car. I’m sick of bicycles. I’m afraid to get married. Will I marry Mindy? I hate Cindy. Am I going to have to clean up that broken lamp in the hall. Is this story going to get published. I think the audience of this story is going to be about two people, myself included. I’m tired of thinking. I’m depressed. I don’t know what to do. Where am I going to find LSD? Am I talking to myself? Am I saying this out loud? I don’t think so.

“Devon!” Luke yelled. “You’ve been standing there for five minutes staring at the floor. Are you okay?”

“No. Leave me alone. I’m sick of going to sleep every night. I just want to push a button that makes me tired.”

“That’s not going to happen! And I don’t think that would be very healthy either.”

“I don’t care. It would be beneficial.”

I walked away and poured myself a bowl of Trix. Tears fell down my face and into my cereal.

“I hope I do a lot of fun things when I’m old because I’ve missed out on them all when I was young.” I told Luke.

“That’s sad.”

“But I probably won’t because I’ll get lung cancer from smoking… Or someone will kill me. Either way, I’ll die.”

“You can’t look at things in that way.”

“I’m just being honest.” I said.

“No one’s going to kill you,” he assured me.

“What about the lung cancer?”, I asked.

“Well that’s a possibility.”

More tears fell down my face. I’m tired of crying.

I walked outside my apartment and begun to clean up my broken lamp on the floor.

“I loved this lamp” I said to myself. “I had it since I was a child. And I gave it to Cindy as a gift. In return, she threw it at my door.” So I picked up a piece of it and threw it back at Cindy’s door.

“You bitch”, I muttered. My back started to hurt and I gave up cleaning all the junk off the floor.

“This is what I get from stealing things and hurting my friend’s feelings all the time.”

“You never hurt my feelings”, I heard a voice from behind me say.

“Mindy!”

“Hi Devon!”

“How’d you find me?”

“You said this is where you lived. So I wanted to talk to you. I walked over here.”

“Would you like a cup of mountain dew. Or a beer?”

“I’ll take both.” Mindy said.

“I think we’re out of mountain dew. No. I think we’re out of beer. But I can look and see if we have any…”

“Okay”, she said.

We walked into my apartment and I introduced her to everyone the room. Which would be Luke.

“Hey Mindy!” Luke said.

“Are we out of beer?” I asked.

“I think so. But you can check.” he said.

I walked over to the refrigerator, and there were two beers left!

Mindy and I walked over to the couch and I used my church key to open the beers. We both drank and held each other’s hands.

“I like you” she said.

“I’m in love with you” I said.

“Actually, I think I love you too. I just thought that saying I like you might appear a little more softer than saying I love you. But if you feel that way. That’s how I feel!”

“No, I don’t know if I’m in love yet. I only met you two hours ago. But maybe!”

“Good!” she said.

We both sat twiddling our thumbs thinking about what to say next.

“Is that your lamp outside? Shattered on the floor?”

“Yes it is. I’ve had it since I was four and now It’s all broken.”

“That’s horrible. How did it get that way?”

“Long story.” We both laughed.

“Do you smoke?” I asked.

“No but I’m willing to try it!”

“Fantastic! Then let’s! Smoke… I mean.”

“Okay!” exclaimed Mindy.

We walked outside onto the balcony and then I said these words.

“I’ll light it and you inhale like a joint.”

“Okay.”

Pretty soon her cigarette was lit and then I lit mine. We both gazed under the marquee moon and I looked at the lipstick on her lips. I was cautious of kissing her because I thought that I might get some of it on my lips.. But I kissed her anyway. And what do you know! It did.

She said to me, “Wow, cigarettes are nice and you kiss like a gentleman.”

“That’s good to know, because I’ve had about two years of experience.”

I then realized the sad truth of writing this story and wishing I hadn’t, continued to finish it anyway!

“Devon?”

“Yeah Mindy?”

“Will you marry me? I think you’re wild and I’d like to have a child.”

“But we’re both so young!” I exclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter.” Mindy said, “We were put on this earth to procreate and I’d like to fuck you!”

“Well, fuck you too Mindy!”
“No, Devon. I mean I want to have sex with you.”

“Ohhh.” I realized what she meant. “Sadly, I’m a virgin. I don’t know how to fuck….” At this point my sentence trailed off.

“It’s very easy. And fun!” Cindy exclaimed.

“Than fuck condoms! Let’s have a child!” I yelped into the city.

We walked hand in hand toward my room in love listening to “King Biscuit Time” by Sonny Boy Williamson playing on the turntable.

The End.