Monday, November 5, 2012

NO MUTUAL EXPERIENCES TO SHARE

When I'm at a reading I think about suicide a lot.  No exaggeration.  I get this overwhelming feeling to escape or die.  Here's a picture of me avoiding a reading in Chicago last year around October.  



I felt like I wasn't a worthwhile human being during this picture because the people who allowed me to stay at their apartment freely were really excited about the reading.  They organized it and shit.  I spent about 5 whole minutes in the art gallery where the event was taking place before my mind started to lose its calm.  I then spent an hour and a half outside in the cold night, mostly watching the faces of the people inside through the front windows.  I couldn't identify with anyone's facial expression. I don't think my face has ever expressed anything similar, ever.  Watching the people through the glass partition was exhausting, not like physically, but emotionally.  I lit up a strong, pungent cigar.  People kept waving their hands in the air or covering their nose as they walked through my radius of influence.  Gena was with me.  I felt bad because she's small and has a vagina, meaning she has no natural protection from the chill of a midwest autumn night.  I sat down on a small cement step on the sidewalk and felt hopeless about life.  Gena left to seek warmth inside.  A short man with an excited body language stopped to inspect all the people on the other side of the glass window.  He asked, "what's going on in there?"  I said, "a reading."  The man asked, "who's reading?"  I said, "no fucking clue but you should check out a guy named Sam Pink.  He's from Chicago."  The man made a facial gesture like he was lying about his penis size to a stripper and then said, "yeah, I've heard of him before.  He's a really great writer."  I just stared back without saying anything.  The short man walked off thinking "that hairy dude totally believed me," but I didn't.  A larger, more crushing feeling of hopelessness descended on my soul.  I texted Sam Pink to tell him this guy said he knew who he was, that he was a 'great writer'.  No immediate response though.  I spent a few minutes watching the drunk people of Chicago walk in and out of several bars across the street, during this observation period I tried to alleviate all feelings from my psyche, which didn't work.  Instead my demeanor became agitated.  A black couple stopped to look at the reading and just stood dumbfounded, mouths open.  Like, it was a natural but synchronized act.  They started walking again.  As they passed where I was sitting I said, "fucking white people," in a low, sarcastic tone.  The couple began laughing and the laughter became louder as their distance grew.  I looked at my feet and stared for a moderate amount of time trying to not think about anything.  A trolley filled with drunk people drinking alcoholic beverages approached the street.  I felt like I was dreaming.  A few seconds later the trolley was gone so I stared at my feet again.  An image of unending sadness played through my mindspace.  Suddenly, I wanted to run, I didn't care where, just away.  Then my phone made a noise.  I opened the phone to see a response from a previous text I had sent.  It read, "sam pink: nigga, i'm a poet."

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