it’s probably been twelve years since my father left, left me fatherless. and i just used to say i hate him in dishonest jest, when honestly i miss this, like when i was six. and every time i got the chance to say it, i would swallow it. sixteen, i’m hollow, intolerant, skipped shots. i storm that whole bottle, i’ll show you a role model. i’m drunk, pissy, pissing on somebody front lawn, trying to figure out how and when the fuck i missed moderate. momma often was offering peace offerings. think, wheeze cough, scoffing and he’s off again. searching for a big brother, tyler was that. plus he liked how i rap, the blunted mice in the trap. too black for the white kids and too white for the blacks. from honor roll to to cracking locks up off them bicycle racks. i’m indecisive, i’m scatterbrained and i’m frightened, it’s evident. and them eyes where he hiding all them icicles at.
something sinister to it, pendulum swinging slow. a degenerate moving through the city with criminal stealth, welcome to enemy turf. harder than immigrants work, golf is stitched into my shirt. get up off the pavement, brush the dirt up off my psyche, psyche, psyche.
time lapse, bars rhymin’, heart’s bottomless pit. was mobbin’ deep as 96 havoc and prodigy did. we were the potty-mouth posse, crash the party and dip. with all belongings, then toss em out to the audience. nothing was fucking awesome, trying to make it from the bottom. this is feeling as hard as vince carter’s knee cartilage is. supreme garment and weed gardeners, garnishing spliffs with keef particles and entering apartments with ‘zine article. tolerance through boundaries, i know you happy now. craven and these complex, fuck done track me down just to be the guys that did it, like i like attention. not the type where trying to get a raise at my expense. supposed to be grateful, right, like thanks so much, you made my life harder. and the ties between my mom and i are strained and tightened, even more than they were before all of this shit. been back a week and i already feel like calling it quits.
something sinister to it, pendulum swinging slow. a degenerate moving through the city with criminal stealth, welcome to enemy turf. harder than immigrants work, golf is stitched into my shirt. get up off the pavement, brush the dirt up off my psyche, psyche, psyche…
sunday was earl sweatshirt and i was worn as fuck when i woke up. i quickly shook that off, thanking the stars that i hadn’t drunk much the night before. hangovers are not as easy to shake. so the day really begun come evening, when kiki came over. that’s when i broke out the beer, and she broke out the tequila. i soon followed though. tequila is shady as fuck, okay. it doesn’t sit bad in the stomach, but it definitely doesn’t sit good. it’s just weird. i think i called it devil’s sweat at some point, and i stand by that statement. almost-two beers and apparently one shot for me, the rest of that second beer and apparently one shot for kiki, and we were both beginning to feel that familiar warm fuzziness. buzzed. and to the subway we went.
one train ride later, we began to walk towards our destination. i am (probably too) proud to say that i managed to remember the way to the club, despite 1. having been there only once. 2. having the worst sense of direction in the history of anything ever. so we reached our destination and got in line. when scoping the scene, we realized that nope there are no hot males and jesus why is everyone so white? fucking hipsters. on a positive note, we only saw about a handful of “swag” people. now that i think of it, there were a lot of skater dudes (white tee, long hair, chucks) there too, which is fine i guess. so we chilled and i think that this is where i started getting pumped. before, i’d been like, oh whatever it’ll be cool we’ll listen to some good music and just chill…
but then we got in, and checked in our jackets and joined the crowd… and there were like a fuckton of people in front of us, and they were like all dudes. there was some really good music playing, and kiki and i were dancing, getting hyped, and people were just like bobbing their heads and feeling cool… and i just felt a little aggro. not angry, not at all, but like hah fuck you i’m going to stand in front of all of you, no way in hell am i going to stand behind you. so when taco came out, and then earl himself, shit got real. we just pushed, and jumped, and pushed some more. and slowly but surely, we managed to get up to the front, to the point where we had like three people in front of us. and we were just thrashing around with the dudes, giving as much bruises as we got, and it was sweaty and gross and pretty great.
bottles were being smashed and everything was sticky. one dude said to another that the shards of glass was making it hard to mosh, “everyone’s wearing chucks heh.” yeah okay. a+ moment was when earl said this is for the girls, or ladies, or whatever, and he sounded a little sarcastic, but then sunday came on and that’s my favorite song and i was just like yesssss this songggg. a+ moment was when earl and taco fucked with each other because aw they seem like such bros. a+ moment was that i managed to get up to the very front when they were doing the “let’s touch hands with the crowd” thing and have both of them take mine. it was like solid proof that yep, we’re at the front. mission accomplished.
after the concert, kiki and i went to a 7-eleven and bought some water and a cold hot chocolate that’s called basically idiot in swedish. i hadn’t had that shit in years, but it’s just delicious as i remember. kiki got a hot dog and then we went back downtown, home to the ghetto. i was pretty spent, and by this point, my soaked hair had turned into a sweat-crusted half-fro. so one shower later, i was ready to turn myself in (after skyping with kiki for about two hours). all in all, a great time. these days, going out means taking over the night, and i’m so ready to do it again and again and again and again. i want to conquer everything.
saturday was international women’s day (females, congrats, you’re the fucking best), so after work, i got dressed up and headed uptown. a latte and some roaming later, bff and i met up with some other friends to go to the demonstration/manifestation/thing for women’s rights in society. it wasn’t very organized, but the atmosphere was really great. actually, the same atmosphere could be felt on the streets the whole night, a lot of celebratory young people. after hanging at the demo, a few of us went to this club/venue to try to score some last-minute tickets for a huge feminist party that was going to take place later that night. we’d been a bit too casual, thinking that you’d probably be able to buy tickets at the door, while everyone else had been on that shit like a month before. luckily, we weren’t the only ones thinking like that. former classmate a and his girlfriend h had tickets, but not their friends e and e…2 (romantically involved).
a went kind of awol after graduation, so we hadn’t hung out with him much at all before these past couple of weeks. he’d just gotten together with h, and isn’t really good at balancing relationships in general. so the people from that whole high school gang that bff and i actually had been hanging out with a bit after graduation were mainly ag and jo, and also ag’s ex v. but then a randomly texted me and bff a couple of weeks ago, asking if we wanted to come to the housewarming party he was throwing with h and e, because they’d scored this penthouse (rich people) that they had until the summer. so bff and i had been like sweet, a party, and gone knowing basically one person that was going to be there. while there, we got to hang out with a’s gang a bit and all hit it off really well and it was funny cause we’d all gone to high school together but interaction was unfathomable back because of high school reasons.
um yeah, like i said, we left ag and jo at the demo with another friend, to try to score last-minute tickets. we didn’t succeed… or, well, we could have, but the deal was basically that if you went in (at 7 pm) you’d have to stay the entire evening, ’cause if you went out, you wouldn’t be let back in. this was going to keep going until 3 am and we hadn’t had dinner so we said fuck that shit and decided that we’d wing it and come back later. so the guys were like yo let’s get pizza and chill at our place for a bit. i called jo and she said that they were going to chill at the demo a bit more, and join us later (which they didn’t, because they wanted to grab a quick bite and go to the party early).
so we went and bought some pizza, a couple of (gross) beers (the liquor store was closed, no good stuff) and some cranberry juice. at the apartment, we ate and chatted, and thinking about it now, i’m a little baffled over how not-awkward it all was. after dinner, we made cosmos (cranberry juice, explained). but whoa whoa whoa, i totally forgot to mention: at the demo, while standing with ag and jo (before meeting a and co), i’d been like: “hmm, i have a feeling that i’ll drink something pink tonight…. like a cosmo or something. for women.” a couple of hours later, voilà – and no, it wasn’t my idea. i hadn’t mentioned anything. it was great though.
after hanging around a bit more, we went back to the club to see if we could get in but surprise, the bouncer said nó. so we walked like three steps to burger king to meet a couple of more of a and co’s friends that we’d met before, at the party, they’d just scored tickets off someone and were trying to stash a bottle of rum so that it wouldn’t get confiscated at the door. after the girl managed to stuff the bottle down her bra, she and her boyfriend headed off together with a and h, who’d had some complications with their tickets before. those two have a wonderful dynamic that plays out in everything they do together. so a forgets to print out their tickets, and h gets pissed off. a says that it’s fine even if they don’t get in, and h freaks out. really, calm down h, you’re gonna get in, but i’d totally be freaking out too. and a, you’re right, how big of a deal is it if you don’t get in, but still, put your back into it. it all worked out.
left at burger king were e, e2, bff and i. e2 had some friend “spinning records” at a bar down the street, so he said that he’ll hang out there for a bit and see you later. now, the rest of us had a few options. we had our names written on lists for two other parties, so we could go to one of those, or just really try to get in. we decided that we’d ask again, just because we could – quoth the bouncer, “nein”. we were about to move on… when a bunch of raging feminists came storming the square with torches. cool, we said and stopped moving. leading the way were women without shirts on and oh, femen, we said. not so cool. there was some angry shouting and i responded to the anger (inwardly) because it was nice to remember that fuck there are still a lot of things to be angry over. people gathered around to look, and a couple of the women shoved at the men and said no this is not for you, fuck off. the kinda neat part was that the police were helping them get the men away… the not so neat part was that the protesters were throwing torches in the direction of the police (i mean, i get it, but not right now?).
once that was done, the three of us were ready to move on again… but then we had a nice idea. we figured we might have been able to get into the club using the entrance next to it, in the same building. so we snuck in there and started running through the different corridors, up and down the stairs. we tried every door, every code (even googled), but nothing. two girls came out of some door (kinda weird) and tried to help us, but nothing. we even called a, and then ag, who were inside, and asked if they could sneak around and open the door from inside (they couldn’t). eventually, we felt that okay let’s do something else now. so we went to get a beer nearby… but were stopped by v, who’d come to try to get into the party as well. he asked the bouncer and the bouncer said fucking no, so we all finally left the scene. we asked if v wanted to go to the other party with us, but he said he’d hang out with some of his bros at another bar instead. he seemed pretty low in general.
e, bff and i scurried off to carmen, a bar in a basement with no phone reception. there, we chugged a beer… some of us, two (e). then we were like alright we should probably actually get to that party… so we got on the train, and rode all the way up to the other end of the red line. some jumping around and instruction navigating later, we arrived at the party… where there was a line. okay, we said and stood at the back of the line. no we didn’t, we slowly but surely managed to cut our way to the almost-front (don’t judge, use and abuse). we still had to wait a while though. so we stood in the cold, outside of a warehouse, cursing and screaming at the glass wall whenever a group of guys were let in because fuck this isn’t your day, while a bad quality version of destiny’s child blared out of someone’s phone.
eventually, we got in, and it was really warm. and really sweaty. there were small rooms, with white cubes inside, that smelled like sex and there was a silver couch with two girls on it that probably also smelled like sex. there were two dance floors and the music was so good. so we fucked around until about 3, and then we felt pretty happy with our night. so we danced to the bus, and then to the subway, and then we had to wait for the train for like 30 minutes (what else is new). we just talked while waiting, and e was saying how much she liked hanging out with us. this is where i realized that bff and i had been hanging out with this girl, that we’d never had a real conversation with before, for an entire night. they’ve all turned out to be such genuinely cool people. and i mean, just the whole thing. i’m just looking at the universe, like what? if i told high school me that see those people by the lockers over there? yeah you’re gonna hang with them, i’d be like yeah okay you’re on crack. it’s just weird. but it’s nice. i just never expected that kind of thing. i’m glad that life manages to throw me really cool surprises every now and again.
du gör allt det där du gör, för bra för att bli nekad i dörren när du stör.
jag är körd när vi nuddas, det brister för mig. gränser som suddas, jag är klistrad vid dig.
för jag kan inte sluta vilja ha det där du sa vi skulle va, som aldrig blev av.
okej att planen övergavs – men varför ringer du mig?
p é n é t r a t i o n, by sergey neamoscou
a friday night and a dingy bar. inside, middle-aged people attempt to salsa, awkwardly jutting their hips with eyes unfocused. music that isn’t salsa is playing and the floors are sticky with spilled inhibitions. outside, three people stand without jackets, two females and one male, cowering away from the rain; huddled together, hunched into themselves. cigarettes hang between their lips, two burning and one unlit. the lights drift through the window behind them, casting auras around contours. the man asks the bouncer for the lighter and holds out his hand; black polish shiny and chipped.
“oh, this is one of those fancy ones.”
“a zippo”, one of the women mutters, painted lips moving rapidly.
“yeah, you just have to flick it open and it’ll burn for you.”
the other woman looks up, stormy eyes piercing the others’. “it’s very convenient.”, she states.
“it was really expensive, so be careful.”
“yeah yeah, of course.”
the sound of metal hitting concrete is harsh, unforgiving.
the woman throws her head back and laughs, mouth framed by red. the sound bounces off the buildings, walls bricked and windows dark. the three finish their cigarettes, speak about thin air. the other woman has her eyes shut the entire time, tides low in a stilled sea. each drag is a prayer, puffs of absolution coming out a gauzy grey. when they’ve stubbed themselves out, they stand for a moment, linger in silence. then they say thanks again for the light, and head back inside. the air is damp and cold. the drops have stopped falling.
i wanna be adored
i gotta be adored
okay so you can imagine this as a really spaced out movie plotline, or a dream. either works.
~ • ~
dread hangs in the air, and when the young man enters the house, he is met by chaos. his colleagues, his brothers and sisters, are suffering, and he watches them all die one by one. the panicked screams haze his mind, disequilibrium taking over his body. he runs from person to person, the words “what do i do?” run on and on in his head. but it doesn’t matter. they all go down, one by one; and left on his knees is one young man, shaking with the sobs that have taken over him. frightened. alone.
a mass of gold glimmers harshly in the window display. watches and rings, necklaces and earrings; the jewellery swells over, diamonds tinkering like cut stars in the sunlight. i turn around and gaze over the sea of people, swishing around each other. via de corso is sweltering.
there’s a price on my head. i can’t move, i can’t breathe, without being watched. everywhere, danger lurks. small dots flashing through the walls, microphones in the ceilings, eyes on my back. they’re everywhere. how did they get in? what do they want from me? this is too big. i think of what happened, of the others lost. the grief strikes me once more, and i find myself remembering the list of names. he wasn’t on there, that must be why he wasn’t a target. gratefulness flickers within me, at least he was spared.
i know what they want. of course that’s what they want. no.
every now and then, always without warning, they send one of their people to tell me that it’s inevitable. that when the time is right, they’ll take the child. my child. as the time goes by, i grow more tired. i become resigned. it’s too big, what can i do? if they want something, they take it. there isn’t a night where i fall asleep without a headache, tears exhausting me beyond the point of consciousness.
when i look at her, it seems like she knows. she’s only two, but it seems like she knows things that i don’t. this miraculous little mistake, half me – zero mine. i tell her i’m sorry all the time, put my arms around her and try to pour my love so deep that it’ll run through her blood forever. even when i’m gone. when she hugs back, it’s like she does it to comfort me. as if disaster isn’t really on its way. as if it’s all in my head.
one night, there’s a knock on my door, and i know it’s them. my fingers tremble as i unlock it. it’s a woman, small but strong, the steel flashing sharp in her green eyes. the word “nonna” flashes in my head. i ask her if she wants to come in, but she declines. she tells me that she’s come to tell me that he’s coming tomorrow. i ask who he is, and she smiles knowingly, as if i should already know the answer. a part of me wonders if maybe i do, but the thought disappears before i manage to chase it down. don’t worry, she tells me. the pieces will fall where they may.
we’re sitting at the table, facing each other. my eyes are fixed on him, his won’t meet mine. he hasn’t touched his tea, flower floating around in the cold liquid. i take a breath, about to ask if he wants me to refill it, when his head snaps up. guilt shades his eyes, green turning murky. i didn’t know. his voice is thick with anguish. i know, i reply. i had accepted what had happened that night a long time ago, each day of seeing my girl making it easier and easier. his expression doesn’t change. i didn’t know that they would do that to us, he says. not with the hurt of a victim, but with the anger of a betrayed. wait. they?, i ask, taken aback. he slumps down further, tries to make himself smaller. realization creeps in, and my blood runs cold. i demand to hear it from him. the whole story. what, exactly, is going on here?
a set-up. il capo bastone. drugged wine. illegitimate conception. et tu brute.
our eyes bore into each other. is he dead?, i ask. one side of his mouth quirks up. a small smile creeps onto my face. good.
me on my third espresso, he on his seventh cup of jasmine tea. i realize my heart’s been fluttering even since before i took my first sip. after all this time. i wonder out loud, now what? he raises his cup, golden watch throwing specks of light on the wall, and replies: now, we start over. i roll my eyes, smiling, and clink my cup to his. i thought that the movies made up that thing about the mafia being overly dramatic. i stand up, towering over him. well in that case, there’s someone that i want you to meet.
~ • ~
when your head’s been running for a while and you’re entrenched in the deepest hours of the night, the part of your brain that stops you from going too crazy grows a bit tired. the barrier appears to get lower and lower. you become more creative, find yourself coming up with ideas and wanting to do and do and do. of course, it also allows you to think and think and think. you think yourself into wanting everything and anything, and suddenly you’ve stumbled upon that damn feeling again. loneliness. as the years go by, so much changes, but the only thing that changes about that feeling is that you understand more and more about that one thing that you’re missing. or really that you understand more and more about what you don’t understand about that thing that you’re missing. it’s not really nice to want so much and find yourself in the darkest hours, thinking about it. frankly, it blows.
i’m in the sky when i’m on the floor
the world’s a mess and you’re my only cure
there’s no time for me to act mature
the only words i know are “more, more” and “more”
and when you're close to my heart it's undyingly yours but best not to forget it's undeniably mine
she wanted to be my lover but my heart was with another and yeah i really wish that we could be friends but i know i'm never gonna get you back again i just wish that you would answer the phone 'cause, i could really do with talking to you right now
so the concept of the other with a capital o. the third part, constantly being looked to; watching, discerning, judging. seeking validation, not from other people, don’t flatter yourselves, randoms, but from the most important entity in the world, the center of the universe – yourself. but… not. the perfect you. the you that you almost lust for, perpetually long to be, but never will become. nietzsche saw the übermensch as a goal for humanity to set for itself. he was a little arrogant, to pin his view of the other with a capital o, his manifestation of the perfect self, as the goal for every single person that has ever and will ever live. god, the state, whatever shape you want it to be – isn’t it just the ultimate you? perfection is a concept defined by each individual, there are no set quotas. we constantly seek confirmation, claim that it can only be given by others, get frustrated when we don’t get it. really, we can only give it to ourselves. the power is with us. we separate ourselves, se us as both self and other. we surround ourselves with our own realities. is it a free will if we’re keeping ourselves from our wills? we tie our own knots.
you know when there’s just so much that has happened that you don’t know where to even start telling the story that’ll justify the entirety of reality? yeah, that. so let’s just not even try. let’s just pretend nothing even happened, and let the story pour out through the voice itself. so this is basically me breaking the ice. discharging the tension building in the air, the expectation of “venting”. zap, there it went.
- good morning. how can i help you?
- hello. i’m here to claim my place on the throne.
- right this way, dear.
life is a lovely color on you, darling.
when i returned to psych after two and a half weeks and realized i was completely uninterested in him, i found myself wondering: what’s the point? when something can go from being an actual thing to nothing at all, without anything happening. when it’s not even time that makes you move on, but mere circumstance. was it even something to begin with, wasn’t it anything at all? i was, once again, struck by the finality of impermanence. but just now i remembered this post, and realized that there it was. there was the point of it. the experience itself, and the remnant of it, is what makes something worth it. there is solid proof that it was something, right there. because i never could have written that if it hadn’t happened, if i hadn’t really felt it. the reality of it is what makes it so inspired, and it’s only life itself which can breathe life into art. so live – let things begin, let them end – and see the world surge through your creations.
the world is blindingly bright. the ground has been bleached a starch white, attracting light magnetic. photons crashing down, ricochet into a frozen disorder. enthropy. some land in your eyes, iris and energy colliding, wave cutting pupil. like a deep gasp after breaking the icy wet surface. good morning.