jonberger

When you’re in a room too long
and you hear the same voices
over and again
saying the same old sort of stuff tirelessly
ad perpetuum
ad infinitum
ad nauseum
they begin to lose value.
They begin to lose meaning.
They begin to drive you mad.

You just want the voices to stop
so you seek to shut them out
by leaving the scene of the crime
by going anywhere to escape their wretched sounds.
You do not do it because it’s easy;
you do it because it’s necessary.

And when you find yourself somewhere new
and you find the same voices remain
not in the room
but within
and there is nowhere to go anymore
what then?

My Grandmother didn’t take care of me often.
This might be because
when my Grandfather died
she was moved down to Florida
like a good Jewish Grandma is supposed to be.

It might also be
before toilet training
(mine, I assume)
she just left me commando
and when I had to go
she threw diapers my way
and hoped she hit where I would inadvertently aim.

It seemed irresponsible then
or so my mother told me
(my memories of those days
are slightly shaky)
but as I age
I wonder if Grandma was on to something.

I’m thinking
as I age on
maybe I can save a shitload on Depends.
Especially if the world goes the way
we most expect it to
with the collapse of civilization
and the common things that bind us
like plumbing and pleather
dissipating like the platypus and Plutarch.

If it’s all circling the drain,
then what’s to get pissed about?
Nothing.
Just throw the diapers my way
every now and again.
That’ll do it, I figure.
Good enough for Grandma,
good enough for me.

Finally, it’s here – but let’s be honest:
you weren’t waiting for it.
Rather, you didn’t know you were waiting for it.
You didn’t realize that all your life
has led you to this moment
where at last
you have come into contact
with the thing that divides the course of time
between then and now
before and after
us and them
(them being those who have not yet experienced it).

I am glad that you can join us at last.
It’s been too long
– but… I’m delaying the moment
when you should really be sinking your teeth
– as it were –
into the meat and bones of it.
So without further ado
I’d like to introduce to you
the one and only
PLACE SANDWICH SELECTION HERE

Some days, you just know are gonna be shitty.
Some days, you wake up, eyes crusted open,
and you can tell right away it’s all going to go to fuck.

Some days, it’s not so clear.
Some days, you can’t predict the awful that’s coming your way
until it slits the pustules on your back
the pus proving to be poison
which, when streaming down your legs,
leaves bloody streaks to remind you
of this day’s character
for an indeterminate age.

Same days are easier to recognize than others.
This day, I dunno.
Yesterday, though,
yesterday was pretty damn clear.

God, I hated Jason Scorce in high school.
I probably couldn’t have named it then
but I thought he was an entitled white bread know it all.
So who was I back then?
Who am I today?

We argued Freshman year about comic books
which he said were stupid
and I said were the bee’s knees
– but probably in some more period-appropriate phrase.
I don’t believe we ever spoke again.
My opinion of him
was set for life.

How could such a decision be established so quickly
and finally?
I’m a better man now
but only thought about him today
and how he deserves another chance
and that there’s no way
I’m going to give it to him
because better I may be
but not yet good enough.

I got new jeans, though I don’t need them.
I’ve got enough pairs for a few years more,
I figure,
but they’re wearing out
so one more set can’t hurt anything, right?
An additional product to get me through this consumerist season. That’ll do, won’t it?

They do look pretty good.
I mean, unlike most of the others,
they fit.

Most everything else was bought when I was bigger
and I’m so small and slim now
(have you heard?
I’m gorgeous these days!)
so except for the few items that remain
from when I was last this size,
these jeans are all that’s Goldilocks correct.

I’ll keep them, I guess,
but I’m wearing all the others
until they’re worn to shreds.

and he says math is the only language that’s spoken using both sides of the brain
and he says everything makes sense if you think about it from the right angle – which may be the left angle under the right circumstance
and he says i really want a hot dog but it doesn’t have to be spicy. it can be pretty cool actually. it can be any way you want to make it he says a lot of things
some of them may be interesting

i’m not actually paying that much attention

Is it healthy to be following him around
the way you do?
You don’t have to answer that
even to yourself.
Just let the question percolate for a while
crackling beneath your active notice
just as you attempt

to walk beyond the periphery
and escape his awareness.

Simply let your subconscious wonder for a while
whether either of you
is being served by this magnetic attraction
and how long this should be going on.

Again: no answers today.
But later maybe.

Things have gotten away from you, haven’t they?
You’re just about at the end of your rope, huh.
As your friend Guns said, “Where do you go now?”
What follows, eh? You can’t even make sense
of the words you’re stringing together anymore.
You stopped making sense, as your friend Talk Talk said,
way before your Ascension Day.

Now, now you’re lost.
There’s nothing to do, like your friend Blake said,
and you can’t figure out the next step without tripping.
You’re stuck, is what you are.
Stuck, in the mud, with no crutch.

Unlike your friend Tom.

Her debt would would never be paid at this rate
so she decided to try a more salacious way
to earn money.
Unfortunately for those of a more lascivious mindset,
she decided that salacious meant
"of or pertaining to sales"
and started a home-made cookie baking business.

It went global in weeks.
Her debt was paid off in hours.
The numbers make no sense
for those of a more technical mindset
but she was free nonetheless.
Ain’t America great?

No.
Not really.