Thursday, August 03, 2006
America Bless God
by Irena the Croatian
I hear a man's voice. It's only about midnight. He's screaming 'wake up' and 'I...." something. He's screaming really loud, kind of desperate. Sad. I don't know... I hope that something didn't happen. Makes you think twice. You know, about the people you love and care for. My cigarette lighter echoes out here.
It's really quiet, aside from the man's voice. Even he is quiet now. My lego blocks. Urban lego blocks. I hate living here. I absolutely hate it. All in all, I almost sort of hate life in itself at this point. I don't know why, seems that things are getting to me a lot more now. I keep looking at other people's windows. I don't feel like getting up. Half the week when the night falls, all that life turns into is solitaire. And cigarettes. I'm a bad citizen. Wait a minute... I'm not a citizen. I'm just a bad human being. And sometimes people think that admitting their own mistakes automatically raises the green flag and that they're forgiven for whatever wrong they've done. But you admit to so many mistakes you become numb to them yourself. Green flag, white flag... it's all the same. Whatever.
This city is far too quiet. I miss Chicago. For some odd reason, I miss it. I miss hearing ambulance sirens at odd hours of the night. Street life at 3 a.m. outside our windows... just life. Everyone minds their own and they're too busy to pay attention to anything else. Denver is a big little town. I've kept on saying that for the last 4 years that I've lived here, and it's settling in more then ever. It's only midnight and I live right by a large hospital. I don't hear sirens... ever. It's 12:12 AM now. I've played a few games of solitaire while writing this blog. There are ambulance’s lights flashing around the corner... something must have happened to that man.
People are fucking dirty, everyone is so fucking dirty. Me, you, everyone. Once you hit the golden age of 18, your white flag becomes gray and you can't be forgiven. Nobody cares to forgive. I think I'm bitter. I've had some wine. Wine is good for your blood. I'm finally tired, finally tired. But as God would have it, insomnia has become the name of the game - again.
I sit here and make plans on how I will better myself as a human being. Then I turn them into cards, each and every one. I like to make a pretty little tower of those cards, and blow them down as soon as something else distracts me. I mis-prioritize. I mis-categorize. I procrastinate, I'm kind of self-indulgent. I hate money and therefore spend it unwisely. Or not... maybe I just don't make enough. Whatever. I break uncanny petty laws every day. Laws such as tying a giraffe to a tree. The other night I broke into the Denver zoo and tied one of the giraffes to the tree. I had a really hard time doing it, the tree was so tall. But it was cool. And then I gave the lions a piggyback ride. Then I woke up. And then a few nights after that I was digging a tunnel out of a prison.
I'm more fucked up then you are. And I don't want to have coffee with you. I'm self-indulgent, I'm self-sufficient. I mis-prioritize and mis-categorize. And my white flag has become black a long fucking time ago, and not from overuse. More from abuse. I try to clean up after myself. And I've had a lot to clean. But it's so fucking black that now it just smears shit all over the place.
I like chocolate. My mom has that dry, sarcastic Yugoslavian humor. She once said that I'd eat shit if it was covered in chocolate. Mom, I love you. But I beg to differ. Because I ate some shit over the last few years. And I even tried to cover it with chocolate to make it go down a bit smoother. And it still tasted like shit.
Tomorrow, today. I will be a better citizen. Maybe I'll finally fill out my FAFSA app. Maybe I'll wake up Elaina on time. Maybe I'll be the stern strict schedule-regulating parent that I should be. Maybe I'll throw the trash away in the morning instead of in the evening. I might even remember to close the window to prevent Denver's greater society of wildlife from finding refuge in my apartment. I could even possibly snap my bras before I put them in the washing machine. Maybe I'll even apply for a part time job. Who knows, perhaps I could charge my phone and throw my trash out of the car right away. I've been trying to do that. Wait a minute... I think my phone will be disconnected by the time I wake up. There goes my card tower.
Good night, America. And bless God. He needs it.
Posted at 8:03 PM
doctor chip posted at 4:42 PM
got shtein?
I miss Chicago, too.
frequently.
B-o
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doctor chip posted at 4:42 PM
