As I roll pennies into 50 cent increments I think is this really what it's come to? After punishing my body and soul to get a little bit ahead in life and now I'm at this point? What a crude joke civilization is. I have all the words of greatness. I have hands to sculpt whatsoever my heart desires. I have enough change for a one way train pass downtown, then an 8 mile hike back through the city. Here I am in the heart of the land of opportunity, struck, more broke than Bukowski in his flop houses. At least he could buy a candy bar.
Somewhere in Afghanistan a warlord grows rich and fat. With a fleet of vehicles and America backing his bankroll. Everywhere in the world politicians are rubbing elbows and scratching backs. Corporations getting greedier as the noose of the economy wrangles around our necks. Across the ocean North Korea is standing with nuclear weapon threat. The disobedient fuckers. I might have sympathy for the cause if it were more noble than just proliferation. I would say a protest to the world bank, or something along those lines would be more of a reason. But no, they have the whole world worried about their crazy asses, over foolish pride.
I owe the government money for my military service. They reported me to the Treasury. I owe back taxes as well. Probably not even as much as a Haliburton employee makes in a week in Iraq, but it's crippling me. I owe a lawyer a thousand dollars for a divorce he didn't even finish. And I still had to pay her bills.
If I were a chimp I would fling my shit at the world. That is how I feel right now. Like I'm in this financial cage with cold steel bars, and the room only gets smaller and harder to move in. I feel like I'm choking and drowning in shit built up. I praise no men living.
I read something about trends in Japanese youth. How they are not caring about working, becoming different types of people who are virtually "useless" to society. They are just catching on to a growing part of American culture. We, the new generation, of consumerists. We the lost generation finding our reality in fake reality, building a wardrobe, a limitless expanse of electronics, and accessories, but not families, or homes, or a future. We are living to be older and even more useless than the previous generation that has flung us into financial turmoil, and unhappiness due to the pursuit of money, quickly, just like the world is moving quickly. We have no time to stop and say WTF is going on here. We can't, we have to update, and tweet and talk about everything, shorten it, and expand everything that doesn't really matter.
Across an ocean in a place you have never been there are people moving slow. Men in camoflauge, pacing in the dirt, and sand. Sleeping at night dreaming and hoping to be back into this American wasteland soon. They watch movies to get a glimpse of what the world is doing without them. They check thier mail which not a lot of people do with excitement. They are happy to wash their face and feet, or clothes. They like it when a day goes by without having their lives threatened. They work hard, work out hard, and train hard. I've been there, seen it, done it, hated it. I missed home like nothing I have ever missed in my life. Is it everything I dreamed? No. I felt more at home when the pressure was on, when I had my friends that relied on me, and I relied on them, and our backs were never left bare, and our stomachs always full. Life doesn't have that. I've lost all those friends to time and distance. My belly is empty and my back is exposed. Each step I take is another tiny little crack in my soul, and the soul pours out into this page, and this page is about the only thing I have left. These hands, this mind, and it's not worth a fucking red cent.