Pests

Part 2 of Kingdom

        I took the huffsock to my face and shot in two sprays of my mix. Instantly, I felt my eyes dilate. It was like in Requiem for a Dream. When I huffed, all the fog around me lifted. I interpreted everything clearly. It was an overwhelming amount of focus and my outlook on life radically changed. It made my mind race, but my body slowed down. I took this time to reflect on stuff I didn't want to think about otherwise.

        What am I going to do tonight? This should be a night I go out and do something, not like those other bullshit nights where I say i'm going out. It's going to happen. I'm going to go out to, uh; where do people go out, a coffee shop? That might be fun. Do people meet people at libraries? People meet people anywhere, what am I even talking about? Fuck, who meets people at a library? How lame is that shit? Well, whatever, who cares if it's lame? It's what I want. I'm going to give it a shot. Libraries are the places where I think I can meet a person more like me; reserved, shy, and inhibited. Do I want to meet a person like me, or do I want to meet a person radically different than me? Opposites attract after all right? Right? Stay focused and follow through.

        Starting tonight I'll go to the library. I'll meet some people, talk to them, and pick out something. Shit, what type of book should I get when I'm there? Which section should I hang out in? Which is the one section with the girls that will be hot, smart, and a little socially maladjusted? Is that even the kind of girl I want? A girl like me, or do I want a girl that challenges and pushes me? Should I look in philosophy, or, the cultural studies section? I could look in contemporary fiction for a new, complex interpretation of an antihero, that sounds good. Dammit Phil! It's not about the book it's about the book to find the girl in the section.

        I'd love to find a girl looking through the film section, it's the only section I ever want to be in. Maybe we will have one of those grabbing the books at the same moment kind of thing and it will be Eisenstein's Film Form, and we could talk for days about his editing theories. Or, I'll casually bring up Dziga Vertov and how he brought those arguments to life in"Man with a Movie Camera." Then we can go out and watch it together, and, fuck. Fuck me; I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened to stay focus and follow through? Heh. I'm talking about focusing while getting distracted by a book that expounds on focusing. That's fucking ridiculous. Wait. Fuck. What time is it? Steve is gonna be pissed. He's always pissed and disappointed. Shit. I have a monster headache. I'll grab some Maxalt first.

        I looked down at my phone; it was still paused at the threesome I was watching. That actress is fucking hot, wonder what else she's in? I searched her name, Cherry O'Toole, and found some more videos she's done. Before I knew it, I started jacking off for the third time that day: it was 8:30 in the morning. I didn't cum this last time. I knew I needed to start my day. So much for staying focused.

        I know that huffing has it's side effects; like absent-mindedness, brain damage, and death. I've seen Love Liza, I can't completely escape my life, nor do I want to. I'm looking for a better way to experience it and this is the lens that I have chosen to view it through. Dad wouldn't have been proud. It doesn't matter. It's been a little over two and a half years, and since he died I wasn't feeling any better. They kept telling me I'd bounce back. I didn't.

        When the settlement came through it wasn't nearly enough for Mom to put me in college; it barely covered legal fees. I thought it would be best to continue the family business. That's what he would have wanted. I had the grades to get into a decent college, but I don't even think it's worth it anymore with student loans as high as they are and the number of available jobs for post-grads being lower than ever. There are a lot of success stories of people who got out of this town, but not me. Not yet, at least. I have to help keep my mom afloat until I move out at least. Business hasn't been good enough to help her pay down the bills, and save up enough for a deposit on a place in a more central location to the work.

        I hate it here. The sleepy suburb of Aurora, Colorado. Tree-lined streets and mountains to the west and all that. Beyond the beautiful scenery you still had to deal with jackasses; the only difference was, were they rich or poor? The figurative class divide becomes even more literal with the intersection of Park Meadows mall. There is a clearly identifiable poor and rich entrance. One side has the finest couches, fireplaces, and marble; while the otherside has the Radioshack that's been broken into four times, perpetually changing graffitti on the outside along with a smattering of gutterpunks with Leftover Crack shirts (and a surely manufactured dirty appearance). In spite of their grimy, hole-riddled clothes and skinny dog they brought around to get sympathy money; they always had the newest Iphone. Those trust-fund hippie pseudo-grungy fucks drive me crazy, Boulder is their home base, but some of those scraggly twats make it down here occassionally.

    Surrounding Park Meadows, there is a section of four-room family homes in a fixer-upper neighborhood with minor fire damage to most properties. I set my watch to the weekly methlab explosions. It'd be hilarious if the Craigslist ads for these properties accurately reflected them.

For Sale: 3.5 Bed 2 bath home in a neighborhood with the highest dropout rate and the lowest performing school districts in the country. Off Street parking to make sure your car will get broken into. Former owner may have hosted Meth Lab. If you're looking for a restoration project, here it is! Doors battered down due to FBI raid, minor damage. Call Vinny to make an appointment. $450,000 OBO.

        I need to get moving. I had 20 minutes to get to a house an hour away.

"I'll lie to them about I-25 being really backed up. It's rush hour after all."

I said aloud. Why did I sound so fucking corny? Why am I even talking right now? I finally got up, dressed, and headed to the garage. I got into mom's '99 Tercel and turned the keys. Her classic rock station started blasting. I grimaced and turned it down, but kept it on to drown out the normal traffic noise. A lot of people place the value of music in the resolving harmonies, but when I was more into music, I was a lot more invested in the dissonance. Without the dissonance, the resolving chords are not as poignant. The noise I loved in music was quickly replaced with the power of visual dissonance. I'll never forget watching Ingmar Bergman's Persona and getting completely absorbed in the first five minutes. I must have watched that sequence six or seven times in immeadiate repetition. Those non-sequitur quick cuts were spellbinding. I'll never be able to tell you the meaning of those shots, and I can never express to anyone how happy that makes me.

     In life there aren't always answers, and that's just something that we need to accept. The difference between all these artforms was that music could help you understand emotions and moments where language failed; words and compelling narratives can satiate wanderlust and the desire for knowledge in general; and with film, well, film is the only art form that doesn't have to be held accountable for its actions. It can leave you with no answers whatsoever, and that's perfectly acceptable.

        Everyday that I crossed Alameda, I went from the "well off" side of the street to the shithole side of the street. You know how they always warn you about the wrong side of the street? Well thats wrong, it doesn't really matter where you are, people are garbage everywhere. I've seen quite a bit of horrific shit at people's homes. It doesn't matter where they ended up on the socio-economic ladder. Unlike the Mac loving zombies that work at a computer repair store, if I see porn, I don't have to report it. I can choose what I want to do. It's a different response every time. 75% of the time I ignore it. 25% of the time I look through it. However, if I ever came across a serial killer's underground sex dungeon/buffet table, I would probably do something; I just don't know what. Why do I go on people's computers? Well, why fucking not?