Manna-Hatta: Home to the Politically Insane [Chapters 1-5]
Chapter 1
He was a student of film. Never particularly interested in the big show and game of marriage, he had gone through a summer of unbelievable manipulation and disgrace from some outside party microchip. Somehow, he had found himself on the other side of the mirror of dreams; his chance to make something of himself ruined by the moral doctrine of some group of people demanding only the saintly and Christian grow profitable in the modern day influx of life. This was the dark side of the city of dreams, the gothic metropolis of prep-exterior-just-out-suburbia girls and hipsters below the surface had another realm: the mole people for one and the secret art police for another. The secret elite police being in conjunction with homeland security, but this is all preface to a story with seemingly no beginning and without really an ending. Because the game of Manna-hatta is a never ending one really. It urges to change the very fundamentals of how one feels and why they exist. It takes the reason a person came to a city and tries to make this exempt. It’s an attempt to change the realization after many realizations of why what is simply is. He should go backwards to get forwards to present day. If such a thing any longer exists.
He’d found himself the girl of his dreams (that year) during his Freshmen year at the School of Visual Arts. His problem in growth was too easily becoming comfortable with his situation and falling in “love”. Over time it would be something that was mistaking it for “love”. In it’s own way it was, a very New York styled love that existed in an open relationship.
She, came from a ‘Norwalky’ styled town in New Jersey. Because He was from Connecticut, every other state was compared to ‘the gold coast’. She was his other mirror self, they both believed in the same: they didn’t want children and marriage seemed like something they’d agree on to agree on. He, was going to eventually pay for the marriage she wanted as long as the relationship stayed open. She was in agreement and taking advantage of the open relationship. He pretended to be hurt when he was really just jealous of how unable he was to compete with her ability to charm men under her game. He didn’t want traditional, he didn’t want average, he wanted to keep the doors open for when he was able to take advantage of the open relationship. He was quite happy with his other, but the door was always open. This was the game of the double edged sword and a fine one at that. After two years, he knew she was able to leave if she wanted to leave, it was a chance willing to take in consideration of the fact that he had found who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. If she betrayed their pact and lifestyle she would have betrayed the very item that made them live. It was the bond of realization after so long and the only true fire deep within a soul if there was such a thing that kept them together.
He was going to get a vasectomy in the summer to finalize his pact with himself. If she would betrayed this idea of children (because he never trusted women on this issue) she would have done worse than betrayed; She would have created something he had no interest in creating.
It was at the end of his third year in schooling for his B.F.A. that he found himself exactly where he wanted to be in life. He was ready to enter the next round of attempting to make money, he finally had his own place to invite women over to on his own period of time. He even made the rash move of joining the Young Republicans because he thought it would get him rich. The logic of doing this considering how long he’d actually fought against the Republicans in such a vicious way he’d one day rival Karl Rove for the other team essentially seemed pseudo-retarded. Still, he loved the island and wanted to be apart of it. Even if it meant quietly hiding his hands on his ass until he had the money to counter the right winged efforts of Fox News and the Rupert Murdoch family.
Rupert Murdoch had started from the bottom in worship of Ronald Reagan and then made his empire, censoring the left and bringing the country to a horrible pull of morality and assign sense against the logic of art for heart and what America actually meant.
Rupert Murdoch had helped M.T.V. turn into the heap of spit and dirt it had since 1998 (or as far as he understood in his Democratic way of thinking). He would do whatever it is he had to do to eventually right this wrong in the world. It would take an Al Gore with a massive pair of balls, big asshole balls and it would have to be done in a corporate way. This was the goal all along. Not in a communist left sort of way but in a free-love 1960s logical sort of way, the kind of way that gives kids grants and student loans (which Ronald Reagan definitely helped to diminish in the 1980s).
He would pay greatly in the student loan debt he’d incurred from the 1980’ Ronald Reagan stolen election (the one in which Reagan had set up the Irani student hostage situation to continue until AFTER the election to make Jimmy Carter look weak; funny how the terrorists were let go immediately after Ronnie got into the presidency. And the people felt a breath of fresh air with an actor as president. Funny how that works out. Just like the 2000 election… but in your face)!
Anyhow, this was the lifestyle he knew. The contradiction of being Republican for the ability to get the money to make the country safer against the very neo-con right winged manipulators who’d used religion as terror to keep down the American people for a good deal of time. There’s a lot more to get into that but it was all in the past really. He was looking towards the future, although he kept a 1970s playboy with Jimmy Carter on the cover interview section and a large Jimmy Carter section for his admiration of Jimmy Carter. The fact that Jimmy Carter had a solar powered item atop the white house which Ronnie took down as soon as he got atop that white house always represented what was the way of big oil. I mean, it made sense though, because if nobody was going to press your company to get out of a situation you could drain from the other for another decade and then finally switch to another power source, why would you?
He was an asshole and at that had betrayed his hipster friends in an act of self-denial and reactionary to secretly being filmed without others willing to admit it. In a final attempt to reclaim anything he had asked before moving to his home if he was being filmed. Nobody admitted it and although he’d accepted it as the way it is in equal opportunity situation, nobody wanted to admit it. Thus, he assumed to each his own and tasted the great disliking in the group for himself (as he’d recently taken on the sudden Republican stance of things, which ironically was for their side. But how do you even explain your trying to stop the country from being retarded when your joining the flag of retardation)?
It was a big, big gigantic piece of anti-love. Atleast towards him, but in the long run it would have made sense probably.
Instead he found himself in MannHatta without really being sure exactly which step in the game led to Mannhatta. Where in life had he pissed on the wrong person to create a warp hole into hell for himself?
He had joined the Republican Party. That was a possible step. He had e-mailed the mayor of New York telling him he was doing a good job. That was a possible step. He had given his school his address and had blabbed on that he was going to create some “truth” on school workings documentary. That was a possible step. The ironical part in that was he had started this work and destroyed it twice, believing in the good of the school over the small amount of recognition he’d get in destroying the very institution that he loved which had essentially created him. There were a lot of steps and he really had no idea which one he’d tripped over. It was in his nature to simply be an asshole, a writer’s thing where he kinda talked shit without knowing it was really shitty. It didn’t matter anymore, once you entered the other end of the rabbit hole called Manna-Hatta you’d only know your “paying” for something. What doesn’t matter as much as the fact that you’re paying.
Chapter 2
Manna-Hatta starts on a Sunday in June. It was immediately after he’d assembled his apartment to where it was supposed to be. The thing now to do was to start working on his thesis and to have a period of relaxation in ‘the summer’. His previous summer wasn’t one he’d favored. Now it was time to enjoy his favorite place in the world and get a feeling for what life was really like in Manhattan. Unfortunately, this was not going to be so as the S.S. of artsville U.S.A. or prepsville U.S.A. or somewhere New Yorky had come alerted to him. It could be the Fairfield kids revenge for all he knew.
All he knew was they’d come and avenge something, in Manna-Hatta they come to take everything down to the very things you love. The only thing you love. Your peace of mind. Your time alone. They’d take this from him because they were…well I couldn’t understand this down to this point in time, but we’re still forward mudding.
It was his friend Richard who’d summoned him one night with that period of time’s “girl of his dreams” Jessica, on the premise of a boy named Brian’s birthday.
The names and characters are all really quite irrelevant compared to the fact that it did in fact happen. In the end he doubted he’d end up speaking to any of them again but essentially accepted this as the name of the game. To take away everyone you know, turn them against you and then have you accept no interest in rekindling this betrayal at the end of your whatever.
He’d been rather fond of the idea in fucking Jessica and used the book ‘The Secret’ to cast some sort of lust-hopeful last minute puppy dog spell before meeting her.
He’d assumed therefore, when he came home and saw the small tracings of words everywhere that it was her alone.
He spent a week trying to decode the messages, so impressed with her ability to pull this off that he thought he was in love with her. If any woman could hate him this much from such a small infraction he’d surely ‘love’ her. Even tell her absurd things like he’d marry her (even though marriage was about as interesting to him as the issue in Spider Man when he got married which he only purchased because there was a Venom holographic card that came with it).
After about a week he became saddened, realizing it wasn’t possible for her to have done this alone. Thinking back, he was sure it was his ex-friends of hipster sort, returning some sort of vengeance for his being a hipster in denial. He had erased their names from his facebook account, essentially his way of saying nobody was willing to come out with honesty to him so each go his own way. It’s one thing to talk shit but to be willing to accept being filmed jerking off and acting crazy, and to do it pretending half the time it wasn’t happening to only be denied even an acknowledge for forgiveness seemed like a way of group ‘fuck you’ signaling.
Looking back on the way the place was painted when he’d originally arrived and a phone call/txt message from Evangelion friend, he’d come to accept that the situation didn’t end. That he was still being filmed and now it had turned into something bigger.
His answer was to play possum for two weeks. Figuring all the wanted to do was steal everything he owned the answer was to just lay still and wait until he returned home and they stole from him. He was weak to begin with and wasn’t really willing to get into the idea of taking them on with a knife. Despite movies, it probably wouldn’t work out for the best and in real-life he’d more likely get thrown off the rooftop before he’d taken any of them out.
After a period of time he decided to just stop communicating madness to the audience. He blah-blah-blah cried about it for a while and confessed how he was really sad on the matter of upsetting everyone, but nobody cared, he was in Manna-hatta now and it was some moralist quandary. It was something about a person who didn’t love Christmas that angered the moral crew in Manna-Hatta. It was some odd backwards forwards thing of individuals with highly unique traits being unable to accept the will and wish to not celebrate a “family oriented” holiday which was probably as ironic as the fact that he was so incredibly left winged but painted himself a Republican. It’s the kind of thing that leads a person to Manna-hatta; where the American constitution and free will die. Because although a man is free to share and spare his own religion and life, in Manna-hatta the reflections of others seeing something as ‘depressing’ is enough for them to inflict the idea of you being ‘alone’ as the wrong way of life. It’s almost an idea to make this very drive ‘painful’ or ‘wrong’ because it’s the way you have always lived. It’s a forceful idea of “family-life” for the sake of it, a violation of the very essence that makes New York City what it is. It’s the reason people escape to New York City from their families, because he as many before him simply had no interest in the back and forth that is the suburban family life. It’s just the way it is.
After this period of time he’d been lead to believe his favorite band was in the mix through the ability of dream manipulation and hypno-sleep-therapy.
This led him to the next “girl of his dreams” idea of a woman from Aracde Fire he’d hit on in a creepy esoteric way one sleep-lacked stoned evening in February when he wrote a note to the band ‘The Arcade Fire’. Where in the last quotation he figured he’d add in how much he greatly enjoyed the violinist Sarah. She was kind-of crazy looking on-stage and turned him on. Anyone on stage is going to appear as a God after you’ve waited 12 hours to see the band. If he was thinking more clearly he would have kept loyalty to the band, but this thing in Manna-Hatta turned into a whole other world.
He would have to assume that the band was probably not involved. Over a period of time it seemed smarter to presume voice technology and manipulation had taken place. The most likely possible reality was the band had little if a small part in the overall structure of the entire evening (calling a period of a month and a half as an evening).
It was part game and part reality.
He wrote two books, the first one he would later destroy.
He wanted to play a game. So he played a game. Half-truth and half-false he’d just run with the idea because it turned his life into the Back to the Future N.E.S. video-game. At times there were even window washers with large panes of glass that’d walk by in red suites. It was fun but it was manipulated against him.
Partially his own fault really.
Returning to acting as a character from his book he attempted to relive the story of his book. He also wrote books.
At the end of the plotline he relived the same realization he’d had in both a series he’d written and the three novels he’d created. He didn’t want to get married and live in the suburbs. He’d spent a mass amount of time creating books to make that clear. He wanted to clarify that he was married to his art, his city and ultimately to himself. His freedom was what was most important out of all the three and the others were simply means for this freedom to express itself and playout. The city had been his love since a child and growing up since the first time he’d been there, no other place would or had ever felt like home. He didn’t care about the trees and bunny-rabbits, not in the actual sense of standing around and experiencing them. Those elements of home were things he wanted to save so they could be there for other people and so they could be there for the environment which he needed if the World Trade Center Memorial would be above ground in 20 years or so. Which he learned about in Al Gore’s documentary “An Inconvenient Truth”.
Unfortunately, it seemed like he was really in love with this area more than he was in love with his home. Throughout his summer he went around singing “let’s live in the suburbs”. All of his artwork up to this point in time had been finishing up one large project about Fairfield, Connecticut (where he was from). He went there and filmed. He sang and experienced what was. But more than anything he wanted to return to his home so badly; Manhattan. Each time he’d stay in Connecticut more than 2 days he’d itch to return home in such an absurd way that even if the cats were fed he’d find a reason to go back. This cost him a lot of money in train tickets but was worth it. Despite the fact of the happy-happy-joy-joy button that was inflicted in the hell-heat of Manna-Hatta.
The happy-happy-joy-joy button is something that started out very early on and went on. After taking too much of his medicine, perhaps two pills too many of “Adderall XR” he went looking for ‘Sarah’ of The Aracde Fire. He was led along this stream of belief that she was there, following fireworks and people on the other side of doors that playfully pushed him away in fake British voices making the entire thing seem plausible.
There were even actors who strangely appeared, like a police officer who was also in the popular movie “Swingers” and Mr. Jellyneck from “Strangers with Candy”. Despite this, he was supposed to believe his medicine was the cause of this madness, and that this medicine was ‘bad’. This was not the case but something of his own fault.
In a bout of stupidity he’d in a ‘secret’ diary to the ‘supposed’ girl on the other end of watching, written that he’d wished to come off his medicine if he only could and all this other bullshit that people say when they want to seem more wholesome and organic then they actually are. He realized later, after coming off his medicine for the amount of time it’d take to reset his body that he preferred the medicine over his body’s natural ability to focus. That he was always a person who would be this way and that if he was not medicated for his A.D.D. he’d use caffeine to treat the symptoms. If he wasn’t given medicine he may have turned to a permanent habit of cocaine. It was his medicine that likely saved his life after trying cocaine. The medicine may have made the cocaine not fit with his brain’s chemicals, thus leaving him disdainful of the feeling cocaine gave him, which opposed to the idea of being ‘awesome’ actually made him feel disgusting. He learned to be thankful to have legal means to medicate himself instead of going through the habit of finding marijuana (which didn’t make any sense because it was the opposite of the way he liked his mind to be – fast); if he hadn’t found a doctor and the industry to fix his problem he would have turned to cocaine. He was thankful for his medicine.
Unfortunately, this turned into an entire ordeal when he created this supposed complex of spirituality and magickal Ghandism… where one day he’d written if he was only healthy and pure he’d return to the mountains and heal the world.
It was more of a Michael Jackson lyric than reality. He didn’t want to sit around and fucking meditate, he didn’t even care for reading the entire manuals of meditation. Spirituality was something he’d gotten into again for the sake of one more thing in his favor to get girls and money. They were two essentially important matters to obtain.
The art seemed to happen but he got some religion and magick in the mix for that too. Anything that’d help the spirit and raise the chances, whatever, if somebody said ‘draw this and dip it in water, by a stone and put it in the sun… sex with hot girl comes, money comes, awesome art comes…. Why the fuck not? If you’re already deeply mixed into your lifestyle (or attempt to have a lifestyle in New York City) why not go the small little bit more if it MIGHT make shit happen because supposed faeries and elves made shit happen? Or crazy shit you make up in your head would make shit happen? Had it worked yet? No. Not really. But it involved the interest of a lot of people so there had to be something to it he figured.
Had others not reacted to it and been so interested in it he’d figure it as bullshit.
But the reason so many people had found him interesting was partially because he started to play around with this shit. He figured he’d found something that they were after too or that it was important and he didn’t know it. The more attention they gave to him in secret looks and reactions to cum stained notes of “magick” he’d leave, wait for them to try and get and then move to him meant that there had to be something behind it.
Eventually he’d figure out that acting crazy makes people interested in the crazy the way people are interested in that guy on Kurt Cobain’s shirt in a documentary he watched. He was about as interesting as Wesley Willis, which he would at some point attempt a run at being during his magickal singing phase.
He should end this chapter now. Lets say this chapter brings us up to the month of August in the summer of fuck called Manna-hatta.
Chapter 3
It was around the time he’d heard others call him “woo” that he realized it was more likely people were reading his entries online than that a band was stalking him. Over time it didn’t entirely make sense, he found it never really made sense but the fact that the “game” never ended made good conjuring of ‘why’?
Who the fuck would do this? What woman would have hidden in the bushes playing a 15 year old game? At first it was cute but after a period of time it just went from boring, to fun, to amazing, to crazy, to boring, to really irritating and a time to indulge in the end of the novel and the truth (incase somebody was actually going to appear in the end, some women who probably wasn’t the women from the band and actually wanna get married. Because then he’d be stuck and without his vasectomy).
Whoever it was on the other end of the horn had been reading his little writings and played a crazy game. He didn’t jerk off and avoided looking at the most beautiful women in the world (the women of Manhattan; metropolitan beauties he could never afford…yet). And although this was one of his true pleasures of living in Manhattan (look but don’t touch but at least touch yourself to the hot ass blond down the way) it seemed like if anything a way to test his dedication to one women for the sake of the ‘just in case’ he was on television. Because if anything, it could always get him dates and laid later on.
He’d made the decision just off the course of when he could have made use of his mysterious status. Playing older brother on a television show when a party was thrown two nights in a row. He could have gotten laid. Instead, he played artboy/crazyboy/dedication to bullshit boy. It made him look basically like a faggot.
But there was another theory in the mix. He’d thrown in the idea of meeting his father, which would somehow turn him into an Italian-American.
He’d thrown too much weight on his poor old man for the way he was. It was really unfair and something he learned a lesson for at the end of that game. The S.S. had enforced him hunting down his father, which since his father wasn’t surprised in, meant that he was clearly apart of the entire situation. He had been lied to about the matter and had implications that he would die soon. It was something others wanted to see, for show.
He wanted to see his father, but learned a lot about himself through all of this.
This was after the end of the don’t spank it to jerk yourself phase.
The, “Sarah” phase.
Because he learned something then. He realized that it was like A Clockwork Orange.
That the way he was at the beginning of the summer was actually his evolution (somewhat minus the Republican idea considering what it meant to be Republican and how little he wanted to do outside exposure kissing babies shit).
He didn’t want marriage and kids. He wanted to get laid, he wanted to go out and fuck the women he never got a chance to fuck all those years where the score was undermining him.
It was the first time in his life he didn’t have the crutch of not having a car. Where he was finally actually himself and free to go out and test out his skills whenever he could.
He was almost ready to continue onto the next stage in his life. He had read the book “The Game”. He was finally open on doors to the women he’d have possible sex with. Because if he got them home the rest was pretty much given (in assumption).
He’d never found out since the summer was stolen from him.
He’d never found out because he chose a stupid plotline over a much better one.
Because before the stupid phase of cute-cute boy-insane, he’d had the chance to talk with hot actresses mysteriously speaking about a tugboat as he walked by. And it was pretty obvious that it was intended for him since they stopped immediately after he continued.
But he was finishing Fairfield. This time it was in the form of a book he’d worked on for 7 years.
Had he gone back in time, he’d talked with the hot actress and finished the book somewhere in the summer when on this timeline he was sweating balls really working the Fairfield out of him.
Atleast now he’d never again say anything like ‘let’s live in the suburbs’.
Chapter 4
He finished the “Sarah” period of time to leave a huge gap in the bridge between the reasoning of the S.S. and himself. Previous to this their was a certain equal peace between the game and he. Running along the “Sarah” plotline he’d make a fool of himself and play this game in an incredibly horny state. He’d pretend to be so deeply in love with a woman in his head that he’d give up the reasoning of himself and the very fact that he wanted to be free to fuck as many woman as he eventually could.
Rather, through going back in his books he played a fun game and even returned to a childish form of spirituality in which had partially returned to this period of time. Realizing that the idea of timelines really came down to an awkward self imposed metaphor between himself as a blue-mid/white collar husband in the suburbs and himself freely working about in New York City and freely seeing, dating or fucking whatever woman he’d find on his way that he’d already made this decision long ago.
His lack for hunting down these woman in the end came to a certain form of comfort ability with economic bracket and the need to create balancing the need to fuck. Had he been free to find this balance in life in the real world he would already know how this works by the month of August. Instead, the world of Manna-hatta was imposed upon him.
In Manna-hatta, he quickly learned that there was no peace with the S.S.
The final straw was to see his father, thus he was promised an end to this game after this period of time. In realizing that there was no real end to this situation and game he stopped playing bullshit since they were bigger bullshit in the S.S. than he had been.
He stopped doing the ‘goodly future father thing’ and stopped blaming his father for his disinterest in having a child. It wasn’t that his dad was a bad dad but that he simply didn’t want to be a dad. In seeing himself as a child he realized he really didn’t want one. Although, he did feel that he also in a sense was possibly a natural born actor and considered taking acting classes one day in the future.
This left a great gap for he.
The S.S. no longer had something to play with in terms of shaping him beyond what he was actually interested in being.
Now that he was happy to be in an open relationship and thankful that he had been before the S.S. came in to fuck it up, he no longer had any need to find a wife and wished he hadn’t spent his summer money for a vasectomy on a project for “The Arcade Fire”. Although he greatly enjoyed creating more music videos for a band that probably thought he was disturbed, he thought he’d have a better use of the money in freeing himself of the worry in one day having a child. He found this to be the worse of worst fate’s, next to having to deal with the S.S.
The S.S. is a fate worse than death, a child however is the next, right up there with being homeless. To have the liberal ability of fucking any woman he wanted seemed the right he earned his way to at this age.
He had to assume the S.S. were apart of the Republican Party he had joined, otherwise what group of people would force crazy morality upon someone?
It took a little while for him to realize the people he was talking to from the S.S. were crazy. They felt a need to yell the insane ideas of treating he like a child with the same need to enforce some morality 1950s bullshit that The Beatles ended forever.
It was better to join the side of making sure The Beatles spirit and the 1960s survived and tore up this “other” America instead of buying a tie and joining something he never was interested in being apart of. Is it worthwhile to be rich with nothing inside? No. In the end it really isn’t. He would find his own way to the top. One day, he would find a way to un-do the crazy bullshit that had been done by the right winged conservative media. Or at least end up working for Democracy Now!
The S.S. however had more nefarious plans than simply making him look like a Gay to assure that he wouldn’t get laid in some crazy vengeance through radio waves and flashing lights. And this was to be revealed going through the day celebrating the birth of his mother who allowed him freedom from oppression, the very thing these people wished to impose on him.
Chapter 5
Their true goal in matters of this was to disturb him beyond belief.
They were crazy in all truth, the things they said never made sense.
Through walls in a 1984 way they’d look to break his confidence in himself in anyway they possibly could. “You’re therapist will see, your daddy, your homeless” it was something that started with their first notch “Jessica will see”.
They very idea was ‘if others could see, what would you be?”
It seemed like the tagline of their game. Would you do drugs if others could see? Would you smoke pot if others could see? Would you do cocaine if others could see? Oh no! What if others could see!!!! Oh no! Fuck off.
The S.S. have machines to make you appear depressed. They shoot lights at your eyes to assure that you appear tired, disturbed, the ground somehow vibrates. They broadcast at you the same way Coca-Cola in Japan broadcasts pictures of coke and sounds going ‘ahh’ with little Buy Coca-Cola messages.
Their interest was to demand that he was apart of some sort of family-morality-Republican-machine. It seemed he was likely apart of a political tide involved with the politician Rudy Guliani (because of the fact that both were Italian and if smoothed out and cursed down to a little happy nothing ready to marry and join the Republican party he’d make a nice addition to the promotional skills for the primaries).
It was a cute idea but one he wasn’t ready to go along with my a longshot.
In the end, he found out he’d rather take himself down than join the very thing he despised; shitty pointless tradition for the sake of politics. It was the reason he hated the political machine and the Republican front. Nothing was more bullshit than being total bullshit for the sake of following a day people who are less intelligent than you are celebrating for the sake of celebration. Not to say they all don’t enjoy it, but it seemed ironic that on the 4th of July they would take away his freedom.
They were nothing logical or holy, they were nothing good.
They were worse than he could ever be. Their only goal was to join a family for a political gain. He would say no even if they asked him in person.
But in truth, they didn’t even make sense.
He imagined crazy and desperate members of the Homeland Security commission typing into computers alongside his uncle who was involved in the police and other members of the police commission. He also involved his prior girlfriend of an open relationship who likely was sucked into this situation but well aware that their relationship was based on the idea that they would not have children.
There was a certain desperation in the voices of the S.S. madman.
Their voices were not even real, as they used machines and typed in computer programs to communicate with him. They used words like “boom” and “bullshit” as a deterrence against his actual reality. They used words like programs to describe him to use his own words against him, and only because he was a computer geek since he was a youth.
They considered calling his daily activities “showing off” because if he was happy and successful as he lived the very idea of their situation, their documentary and their actual reality based bullshit behind the scenes but following the outside scenario on the scene wouldn’t work.
If they could film him and make him look crazy on the outside while affecting him on the inside in very subtle ways they could blame it on his medication, his politics or his lack of family values. Or they could say that love wasn’t in his heart but if he only found one woman to love they could finally bring him to see the beauty of his artwork. Or they would make him appear to be a fag through shooting off flashes at the right moment to move his eyes. They would drain his bank account through the summer in order to find a way to get him to return to his relatives or somewhere home. It was a need to make him seem from “Fairfield, Connecticut” instead of from “New York City” which is his home and the place he will keep as home. If they could keep him as a boy from the suburbs or a boy from a lower middle class family they could push the idea that he was a perfect upstanding member of society who was prime to one day be Ronald Reagan.
The thing was 1984 wasn’t a very appealing situation to him.
He decided he didn’t want to join up on either side and be their little pigeons.
He would point the truth at both political parties. He would laugh at both of them.
He would share the truth with everyone.
But the S.S. had more interest in just that.
The S.S. was a desperate group of maddened and hardened moralists along the tide of the neo-cons. The ‘Neo-Con’ movement believed that the government would run best by keeping the people inside the circle of politics by causing fear to be the constant term of currency. Before an election there’s terror. Remember the 2004 half-million-man march on the Republican National Convention? And do you remember when the newspapers would paint the peaceful protestors as madmen? I recall this. And he was there and saw the effect of having a Republican controlled New York City. It meant that one every street there were police officers with white handcuffs ready to ‘get those gosh darn trouble makers while the happy dappy folk invaded the blue city’.
It was a disgustingly weird period of time. He got the New York City his Freshmen year at The School of Visual Arts and thought the city was like this all the time.
If only the city always had people dancing and protesting the injustice our government allows to happen above us all the time.
Without Ralph Nader we wouldn’t have seatbels. But people forget him all the time and paint him the demon of the world. In truth, Barak Obamma should run with Ralph Nader as V.P. and finally get him into office. Ralph Nader would fix this country. Ralph Nader stays up day and night by himself to assure that people are free. Ralph Nader actually reads the mail he gets and works to un-do the years of damage George W. Bush has allowed to take place on our country in the little portions of ‘The Patriot Act’ that nobody talks about because nobody has a big mouth.
I have a big mouth. He has a big mouth. Somebody else will have a big mouth.
It’s time for people to wake the fuck up. Because it’s not worth living if you’re not free. It’s better to have us all blown to hell than to give up our liberties and have big brother shifting down your shoulder to make sure you’re a free and clear American.
They’ll call this crazy and depressed talk. But he knew better.
He knew that this was the kind of thing they didn’t want him to say. And this is why he saw them come after him.
Because he spoke the truth and he spoke it in a situation of povery and forthcoming doom from student loans. But he would throw his full force into the pocket of his work and if they’d sit there and destroy him because he wouldn’t join the happy, the dappy and whatever they meant in their militant broadcast on “good person, happy values” he’d go down with the phrase “I’d rather die than give you control”.
Who were these people who were so crazy they imposed madness on others?
Who were these people who had made Middle-Eastern people into the new detention camp waiting detainees (like how we detained Japanese-Americans during W.W.2 because apparently America has a knack for sometimes deciding we’re going to throw people away because they might, I don’t know, blow up something for the sake of a place they LEFT to come here). It’s not surprising, considering how in Fahrenheit 9/11 they had that guy who spoke about George Bush’s war being bullshit in a gym and the next day the government shows up at his door because somebody called the tell-on-your-neighbor hotline? It’s funny how much the Republicans are against the Communists but at the same time have taken so much of that Russian picture they painted on us.
Then again, considering a lot of the lies we had going on about the Soviet Union in order to gain American support and keep America in fear, it’s not a big surprise.
It seems like he was just unaware of how lucky he was to have grown up in the 1990s.
It really effects the American public to be told they’re going to die all the time. Fucks the people right the fuck up. Bill Clinton was always nice with us and America always went to sleep feeling that the ‘people’s president’ was looking out for them.
Instead, everytime George W. Bush comes on T.V. I’m pretty sure we’re going to bomb a new country and that he’s making a joke. When he says something and looks at the camera I think he’s bullshitting and making a joke to his buddy Slick Matt from his frat.
No, I don’t really believe that he’s the way he is.
And I don’t believe that he doesn’t drink anymore.
And I think it’s a really good idea if your on blow to join the God squad later on after the initial arrest and tell Christ secret whispers for the new generation of neo-conism.
But that’s the reason that Bill Clinton won in 1992.
This forced morality bullshit is exactly that, bullshit. It’s far from the Republican base and base of people who stand pretty much with going on the fence towards the side that works best for them.
When you start throwing God out there, people are fucking freaked out in the normal base.
Following the years that Clinton won and the Democrats kept the White House thus keeping us safe from absurdity, the Republicans were quietly making a deal with the devil (who ironically was in the form of the neo-cons+Republican+protestants and Jesus squad). This is pretty damned scary, but they got people in the churches were there were formally preachers who hadn’t anything to do with politics because church and state were separated. Now convinced that a magic sin is being committed in the stomach of every baby aborted in the world (as if they’re really thought processing creatures at the point that they’re aborted… I call that bullshit) the moral majority began to push America in a different direction. It was actually the ‘Moral Majority’ involved Pat Robinson and those folk who after the 1970s began to build this base against the “liberal doctrine” which is an unfortunate war that has gone in America for quite some time. It’s not entirely the ‘has and has-nots’ because both sides has a little of both, oddly considering the Republican way, but it’s more about the “reality based and the religion-crack-Jesus-cane based”.
It’s quite a tide and quite an unsettling thing to see people sell out their entire future based on the fact that they’re going to stop some poor ass chick in downtown Detroit from getting an abortion because she doesn’t have the money for another kid.
Or doesn’t want a kid.
But these are the people who decide it’s their way or the highway, love it or leave it, even though if all the liberals left the country they’d pretty much have no entertainment industry and essentially implode. It’s a cute idea but just keep in mind that the Republicans will never actually illegalize abortion or they’re going to lose the entire base of lower class blue collar workers who are protestant and are essentially one-issue voters.
Because then people start thinking.
It’s also in the situation that in a time of war the Republicans tend to do better because they’re thing is ‘we kill em good’. But in a time of peace the Republicans don’t do as well because they pretty much give less of a shit about the poor-poor fellow than the Democrats who give a slight more shit. Just a slight bit more, but a bit more than they have to jump on the bandwagon with it or they have no public light spectacle. It seems the Republican way is more currently the George W. Bush ‘dear John’ town-hall planned meeting (with press that’s purchased more faster than a Scott Mccullan or whatever the fuck his name was cheap ass K-Mart suit).
He spoke about all of this. I speak about all of this.
And for this they came after him. He. I. They.
Crazy people with buttons and morality barking up the wrong tree.
He wasn’t going to step backwards into the constitution state.
There was a reason New York City exists.
And it wasn’t for fronting another bullshit smile of buy-my-soul for corn field love.
He was always a New Yorker, he would always be a New Yorker.
The S.S. made him wonder if maybe he was always more of a New Yorker than Rudy Guliani.
If the S.S. had been sent for the Italian ticket and all he wanted was another smile-for-smile character straight cookie-cutter from the Sopranos; in that case Guliani wasn’t a New Yorker; he was a politician.
And in that case, he could see why Guliani had a low approval rating and was disliked by New Yorkers and the poor (according to every New York security guard he’d talked to late night at The School of Visual Arts). He didn’t know because he didn’t live here then.
All he knew was forcing family values, trying to buy hearts and minds and invading countries plus souls was a Republican thing. Alongside scandals in war.
Getting one back for the poor while making deals with the other side for the fact of having to, searching for a happy corporate medium and secretly waging small wars on the side while having sex outside marriage (woo, some fucking scandal) was a Democratic thing.
The S.S. didn’t seem very much like Bill Clinton’s left over buddies to him.
It made him wonder why he ever pretended to be right wing.
He was a student of film. Never particularly interested in the big show and game of marriage, he had gone through a summer of unbelievable manipulation and disgrace from some outside party microchip. Somehow, he had found himself on the other side of the mirror of dreams; his chance to make something of himself ruined by the moral doctrine of some group of people demanding only the saintly and Christian grow profitable in the modern day influx of life. This was the dark side of the city of dreams, the gothic metropolis of prep-exterior-just-out-suburbia girls and hipsters below the surface had another realm: the mole people for one and the secret art police for another. The secret elite police being in conjunction with homeland security, but this is all preface to a story with seemingly no beginning and without really an ending. Because the game of Manna-hatta is a never ending one really. It urges to change the very fundamentals of how one feels and why they exist. It takes the reason a person came to a city and tries to make this exempt. It’s an attempt to change the realization after many realizations of why what is simply is. He should go backwards to get forwards to present day. If such a thing any longer exists.
He’d found himself the girl of his dreams (that year) during his Freshmen year at the School of Visual Arts. His problem in growth was too easily becoming comfortable with his situation and falling in “love”. Over time it would be something that was mistaking it for “love”. In it’s own way it was, a very New York styled love that existed in an open relationship.
She, came from a ‘Norwalky’ styled town in New Jersey. Because He was from Connecticut, every other state was compared to ‘the gold coast’. She was his other mirror self, they both believed in the same: they didn’t want children and marriage seemed like something they’d agree on to agree on. He, was going to eventually pay for the marriage she wanted as long as the relationship stayed open. She was in agreement and taking advantage of the open relationship. He pretended to be hurt when he was really just jealous of how unable he was to compete with her ability to charm men under her game. He didn’t want traditional, he didn’t want average, he wanted to keep the doors open for when he was able to take advantage of the open relationship. He was quite happy with his other, but the door was always open. This was the game of the double edged sword and a fine one at that. After two years, he knew she was able to leave if she wanted to leave, it was a chance willing to take in consideration of the fact that he had found who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. If she betrayed their pact and lifestyle she would have betrayed the very item that made them live. It was the bond of realization after so long and the only true fire deep within a soul if there was such a thing that kept them together.
He was going to get a vasectomy in the summer to finalize his pact with himself. If she would betrayed this idea of children (because he never trusted women on this issue) she would have done worse than betrayed; She would have created something he had no interest in creating.
It was at the end of his third year in schooling for his B.F.A. that he found himself exactly where he wanted to be in life. He was ready to enter the next round of attempting to make money, he finally had his own place to invite women over to on his own period of time. He even made the rash move of joining the Young Republicans because he thought it would get him rich. The logic of doing this considering how long he’d actually fought against the Republicans in such a vicious way he’d one day rival Karl Rove for the other team essentially seemed pseudo-retarded. Still, he loved the island and wanted to be apart of it. Even if it meant quietly hiding his hands on his ass until he had the money to counter the right winged efforts of Fox News and the Rupert Murdoch family.
Rupert Murdoch had started from the bottom in worship of Ronald Reagan and then made his empire, censoring the left and bringing the country to a horrible pull of morality and assign sense against the logic of art for heart and what America actually meant.
Rupert Murdoch had helped M.T.V. turn into the heap of spit and dirt it had since 1998 (or as far as he understood in his Democratic way of thinking). He would do whatever it is he had to do to eventually right this wrong in the world. It would take an Al Gore with a massive pair of balls, big asshole balls and it would have to be done in a corporate way. This was the goal all along. Not in a communist left sort of way but in a free-love 1960s logical sort of way, the kind of way that gives kids grants and student loans (which Ronald Reagan definitely helped to diminish in the 1980s).
He would pay greatly in the student loan debt he’d incurred from the 1980’ Ronald Reagan stolen election (the one in which Reagan had set up the Irani student hostage situation to continue until AFTER the election to make Jimmy Carter look weak; funny how the terrorists were let go immediately after Ronnie got into the presidency. And the people felt a breath of fresh air with an actor as president. Funny how that works out. Just like the 2000 election… but in your face)!
Anyhow, this was the lifestyle he knew. The contradiction of being Republican for the ability to get the money to make the country safer against the very neo-con right winged manipulators who’d used religion as terror to keep down the American people for a good deal of time. There’s a lot more to get into that but it was all in the past really. He was looking towards the future, although he kept a 1970s playboy with Jimmy Carter on the cover interview section and a large Jimmy Carter section for his admiration of Jimmy Carter. The fact that Jimmy Carter had a solar powered item atop the white house which Ronnie took down as soon as he got atop that white house always represented what was the way of big oil. I mean, it made sense though, because if nobody was going to press your company to get out of a situation you could drain from the other for another decade and then finally switch to another power source, why would you?
He was an asshole and at that had betrayed his hipster friends in an act of self-denial and reactionary to secretly being filmed without others willing to admit it. In a final attempt to reclaim anything he had asked before moving to his home if he was being filmed. Nobody admitted it and although he’d accepted it as the way it is in equal opportunity situation, nobody wanted to admit it. Thus, he assumed to each his own and tasted the great disliking in the group for himself (as he’d recently taken on the sudden Republican stance of things, which ironically was for their side. But how do you even explain your trying to stop the country from being retarded when your joining the flag of retardation)?
It was a big, big gigantic piece of anti-love. Atleast towards him, but in the long run it would have made sense probably.
Instead he found himself in MannHatta without really being sure exactly which step in the game led to Mannhatta. Where in life had he pissed on the wrong person to create a warp hole into hell for himself?
He had joined the Republican Party. That was a possible step. He had e-mailed the mayor of New York telling him he was doing a good job. That was a possible step. He had given his school his address and had blabbed on that he was going to create some “truth” on school workings documentary. That was a possible step. The ironical part in that was he had started this work and destroyed it twice, believing in the good of the school over the small amount of recognition he’d get in destroying the very institution that he loved which had essentially created him. There were a lot of steps and he really had no idea which one he’d tripped over. It was in his nature to simply be an asshole, a writer’s thing where he kinda talked shit without knowing it was really shitty. It didn’t matter anymore, once you entered the other end of the rabbit hole called Manna-Hatta you’d only know your “paying” for something. What doesn’t matter as much as the fact that you’re paying.
Chapter 2
Manna-Hatta starts on a Sunday in June. It was immediately after he’d assembled his apartment to where it was supposed to be. The thing now to do was to start working on his thesis and to have a period of relaxation in ‘the summer’. His previous summer wasn’t one he’d favored. Now it was time to enjoy his favorite place in the world and get a feeling for what life was really like in Manhattan. Unfortunately, this was not going to be so as the S.S. of artsville U.S.A. or prepsville U.S.A. or somewhere New Yorky had come alerted to him. It could be the Fairfield kids revenge for all he knew.
All he knew was they’d come and avenge something, in Manna-Hatta they come to take everything down to the very things you love. The only thing you love. Your peace of mind. Your time alone. They’d take this from him because they were…well I couldn’t understand this down to this point in time, but we’re still forward mudding.
It was his friend Richard who’d summoned him one night with that period of time’s “girl of his dreams” Jessica, on the premise of a boy named Brian’s birthday.
The names and characters are all really quite irrelevant compared to the fact that it did in fact happen. In the end he doubted he’d end up speaking to any of them again but essentially accepted this as the name of the game. To take away everyone you know, turn them against you and then have you accept no interest in rekindling this betrayal at the end of your whatever.
He’d been rather fond of the idea in fucking Jessica and used the book ‘The Secret’ to cast some sort of lust-hopeful last minute puppy dog spell before meeting her.
He’d assumed therefore, when he came home and saw the small tracings of words everywhere that it was her alone.
He spent a week trying to decode the messages, so impressed with her ability to pull this off that he thought he was in love with her. If any woman could hate him this much from such a small infraction he’d surely ‘love’ her. Even tell her absurd things like he’d marry her (even though marriage was about as interesting to him as the issue in Spider Man when he got married which he only purchased because there was a Venom holographic card that came with it).
After about a week he became saddened, realizing it wasn’t possible for her to have done this alone. Thinking back, he was sure it was his ex-friends of hipster sort, returning some sort of vengeance for his being a hipster in denial. He had erased their names from his facebook account, essentially his way of saying nobody was willing to come out with honesty to him so each go his own way. It’s one thing to talk shit but to be willing to accept being filmed jerking off and acting crazy, and to do it pretending half the time it wasn’t happening to only be denied even an acknowledge for forgiveness seemed like a way of group ‘fuck you’ signaling.
Looking back on the way the place was painted when he’d originally arrived and a phone call/txt message from Evangelion friend, he’d come to accept that the situation didn’t end. That he was still being filmed and now it had turned into something bigger.
His answer was to play possum for two weeks. Figuring all the wanted to do was steal everything he owned the answer was to just lay still and wait until he returned home and they stole from him. He was weak to begin with and wasn’t really willing to get into the idea of taking them on with a knife. Despite movies, it probably wouldn’t work out for the best and in real-life he’d more likely get thrown off the rooftop before he’d taken any of them out.
After a period of time he decided to just stop communicating madness to the audience. He blah-blah-blah cried about it for a while and confessed how he was really sad on the matter of upsetting everyone, but nobody cared, he was in Manna-hatta now and it was some moralist quandary. It was something about a person who didn’t love Christmas that angered the moral crew in Manna-Hatta. It was some odd backwards forwards thing of individuals with highly unique traits being unable to accept the will and wish to not celebrate a “family oriented” holiday which was probably as ironic as the fact that he was so incredibly left winged but painted himself a Republican. It’s the kind of thing that leads a person to Manna-hatta; where the American constitution and free will die. Because although a man is free to share and spare his own religion and life, in Manna-hatta the reflections of others seeing something as ‘depressing’ is enough for them to inflict the idea of you being ‘alone’ as the wrong way of life. It’s almost an idea to make this very drive ‘painful’ or ‘wrong’ because it’s the way you have always lived. It’s a forceful idea of “family-life” for the sake of it, a violation of the very essence that makes New York City what it is. It’s the reason people escape to New York City from their families, because he as many before him simply had no interest in the back and forth that is the suburban family life. It’s just the way it is.
After this period of time he’d been lead to believe his favorite band was in the mix through the ability of dream manipulation and hypno-sleep-therapy.
This led him to the next “girl of his dreams” idea of a woman from Aracde Fire he’d hit on in a creepy esoteric way one sleep-lacked stoned evening in February when he wrote a note to the band ‘The Arcade Fire’. Where in the last quotation he figured he’d add in how much he greatly enjoyed the violinist Sarah. She was kind-of crazy looking on-stage and turned him on. Anyone on stage is going to appear as a God after you’ve waited 12 hours to see the band. If he was thinking more clearly he would have kept loyalty to the band, but this thing in Manna-Hatta turned into a whole other world.
He would have to assume that the band was probably not involved. Over a period of time it seemed smarter to presume voice technology and manipulation had taken place. The most likely possible reality was the band had little if a small part in the overall structure of the entire evening (calling a period of a month and a half as an evening).
It was part game and part reality.
He wrote two books, the first one he would later destroy.
He wanted to play a game. So he played a game. Half-truth and half-false he’d just run with the idea because it turned his life into the Back to the Future N.E.S. video-game. At times there were even window washers with large panes of glass that’d walk by in red suites. It was fun but it was manipulated against him.
Partially his own fault really.
Returning to acting as a character from his book he attempted to relive the story of his book. He also wrote books.
At the end of the plotline he relived the same realization he’d had in both a series he’d written and the three novels he’d created. He didn’t want to get married and live in the suburbs. He’d spent a mass amount of time creating books to make that clear. He wanted to clarify that he was married to his art, his city and ultimately to himself. His freedom was what was most important out of all the three and the others were simply means for this freedom to express itself and playout. The city had been his love since a child and growing up since the first time he’d been there, no other place would or had ever felt like home. He didn’t care about the trees and bunny-rabbits, not in the actual sense of standing around and experiencing them. Those elements of home were things he wanted to save so they could be there for other people and so they could be there for the environment which he needed if the World Trade Center Memorial would be above ground in 20 years or so. Which he learned about in Al Gore’s documentary “An Inconvenient Truth”.
Unfortunately, it seemed like he was really in love with this area more than he was in love with his home. Throughout his summer he went around singing “let’s live in the suburbs”. All of his artwork up to this point in time had been finishing up one large project about Fairfield, Connecticut (where he was from). He went there and filmed. He sang and experienced what was. But more than anything he wanted to return to his home so badly; Manhattan. Each time he’d stay in Connecticut more than 2 days he’d itch to return home in such an absurd way that even if the cats were fed he’d find a reason to go back. This cost him a lot of money in train tickets but was worth it. Despite the fact of the happy-happy-joy-joy button that was inflicted in the hell-heat of Manna-Hatta.
The happy-happy-joy-joy button is something that started out very early on and went on. After taking too much of his medicine, perhaps two pills too many of “Adderall XR” he went looking for ‘Sarah’ of The Aracde Fire. He was led along this stream of belief that she was there, following fireworks and people on the other side of doors that playfully pushed him away in fake British voices making the entire thing seem plausible.
There were even actors who strangely appeared, like a police officer who was also in the popular movie “Swingers” and Mr. Jellyneck from “Strangers with Candy”. Despite this, he was supposed to believe his medicine was the cause of this madness, and that this medicine was ‘bad’. This was not the case but something of his own fault.
In a bout of stupidity he’d in a ‘secret’ diary to the ‘supposed’ girl on the other end of watching, written that he’d wished to come off his medicine if he only could and all this other bullshit that people say when they want to seem more wholesome and organic then they actually are. He realized later, after coming off his medicine for the amount of time it’d take to reset his body that he preferred the medicine over his body’s natural ability to focus. That he was always a person who would be this way and that if he was not medicated for his A.D.D. he’d use caffeine to treat the symptoms. If he wasn’t given medicine he may have turned to a permanent habit of cocaine. It was his medicine that likely saved his life after trying cocaine. The medicine may have made the cocaine not fit with his brain’s chemicals, thus leaving him disdainful of the feeling cocaine gave him, which opposed to the idea of being ‘awesome’ actually made him feel disgusting. He learned to be thankful to have legal means to medicate himself instead of going through the habit of finding marijuana (which didn’t make any sense because it was the opposite of the way he liked his mind to be – fast); if he hadn’t found a doctor and the industry to fix his problem he would have turned to cocaine. He was thankful for his medicine.
Unfortunately, this turned into an entire ordeal when he created this supposed complex of spirituality and magickal Ghandism… where one day he’d written if he was only healthy and pure he’d return to the mountains and heal the world.
It was more of a Michael Jackson lyric than reality. He didn’t want to sit around and fucking meditate, he didn’t even care for reading the entire manuals of meditation. Spirituality was something he’d gotten into again for the sake of one more thing in his favor to get girls and money. They were two essentially important matters to obtain.
The art seemed to happen but he got some religion and magick in the mix for that too. Anything that’d help the spirit and raise the chances, whatever, if somebody said ‘draw this and dip it in water, by a stone and put it in the sun… sex with hot girl comes, money comes, awesome art comes…. Why the fuck not? If you’re already deeply mixed into your lifestyle (or attempt to have a lifestyle in New York City) why not go the small little bit more if it MIGHT make shit happen because supposed faeries and elves made shit happen? Or crazy shit you make up in your head would make shit happen? Had it worked yet? No. Not really. But it involved the interest of a lot of people so there had to be something to it he figured.
Had others not reacted to it and been so interested in it he’d figure it as bullshit.
But the reason so many people had found him interesting was partially because he started to play around with this shit. He figured he’d found something that they were after too or that it was important and he didn’t know it. The more attention they gave to him in secret looks and reactions to cum stained notes of “magick” he’d leave, wait for them to try and get and then move to him meant that there had to be something behind it.
Eventually he’d figure out that acting crazy makes people interested in the crazy the way people are interested in that guy on Kurt Cobain’s shirt in a documentary he watched. He was about as interesting as Wesley Willis, which he would at some point attempt a run at being during his magickal singing phase.
He should end this chapter now. Lets say this chapter brings us up to the month of August in the summer of fuck called Manna-hatta.
Chapter 3
It was around the time he’d heard others call him “woo” that he realized it was more likely people were reading his entries online than that a band was stalking him. Over time it didn’t entirely make sense, he found it never really made sense but the fact that the “game” never ended made good conjuring of ‘why’?
Who the fuck would do this? What woman would have hidden in the bushes playing a 15 year old game? At first it was cute but after a period of time it just went from boring, to fun, to amazing, to crazy, to boring, to really irritating and a time to indulge in the end of the novel and the truth (incase somebody was actually going to appear in the end, some women who probably wasn’t the women from the band and actually wanna get married. Because then he’d be stuck and without his vasectomy).
Whoever it was on the other end of the horn had been reading his little writings and played a crazy game. He didn’t jerk off and avoided looking at the most beautiful women in the world (the women of Manhattan; metropolitan beauties he could never afford…yet). And although this was one of his true pleasures of living in Manhattan (look but don’t touch but at least touch yourself to the hot ass blond down the way) it seemed like if anything a way to test his dedication to one women for the sake of the ‘just in case’ he was on television. Because if anything, it could always get him dates and laid later on.
He’d made the decision just off the course of when he could have made use of his mysterious status. Playing older brother on a television show when a party was thrown two nights in a row. He could have gotten laid. Instead, he played artboy/crazyboy/dedication to bullshit boy. It made him look basically like a faggot.
But there was another theory in the mix. He’d thrown in the idea of meeting his father, which would somehow turn him into an Italian-American.
He’d thrown too much weight on his poor old man for the way he was. It was really unfair and something he learned a lesson for at the end of that game. The S.S. had enforced him hunting down his father, which since his father wasn’t surprised in, meant that he was clearly apart of the entire situation. He had been lied to about the matter and had implications that he would die soon. It was something others wanted to see, for show.
He wanted to see his father, but learned a lot about himself through all of this.
This was after the end of the don’t spank it to jerk yourself phase.
The, “Sarah” phase.
Because he learned something then. He realized that it was like A Clockwork Orange.
That the way he was at the beginning of the summer was actually his evolution (somewhat minus the Republican idea considering what it meant to be Republican and how little he wanted to do outside exposure kissing babies shit).
He didn’t want marriage and kids. He wanted to get laid, he wanted to go out and fuck the women he never got a chance to fuck all those years where the score was undermining him.
It was the first time in his life he didn’t have the crutch of not having a car. Where he was finally actually himself and free to go out and test out his skills whenever he could.
He was almost ready to continue onto the next stage in his life. He had read the book “The Game”. He was finally open on doors to the women he’d have possible sex with. Because if he got them home the rest was pretty much given (in assumption).
He’d never found out since the summer was stolen from him.
He’d never found out because he chose a stupid plotline over a much better one.
Because before the stupid phase of cute-cute boy-insane, he’d had the chance to talk with hot actresses mysteriously speaking about a tugboat as he walked by. And it was pretty obvious that it was intended for him since they stopped immediately after he continued.
But he was finishing Fairfield. This time it was in the form of a book he’d worked on for 7 years.
Had he gone back in time, he’d talked with the hot actress and finished the book somewhere in the summer when on this timeline he was sweating balls really working the Fairfield out of him.
Atleast now he’d never again say anything like ‘let’s live in the suburbs’.
Chapter 4
He finished the “Sarah” period of time to leave a huge gap in the bridge between the reasoning of the S.S. and himself. Previous to this their was a certain equal peace between the game and he. Running along the “Sarah” plotline he’d make a fool of himself and play this game in an incredibly horny state. He’d pretend to be so deeply in love with a woman in his head that he’d give up the reasoning of himself and the very fact that he wanted to be free to fuck as many woman as he eventually could.
Rather, through going back in his books he played a fun game and even returned to a childish form of spirituality in which had partially returned to this period of time. Realizing that the idea of timelines really came down to an awkward self imposed metaphor between himself as a blue-mid/white collar husband in the suburbs and himself freely working about in New York City and freely seeing, dating or fucking whatever woman he’d find on his way that he’d already made this decision long ago.
His lack for hunting down these woman in the end came to a certain form of comfort ability with economic bracket and the need to create balancing the need to fuck. Had he been free to find this balance in life in the real world he would already know how this works by the month of August. Instead, the world of Manna-hatta was imposed upon him.
In Manna-hatta, he quickly learned that there was no peace with the S.S.
The final straw was to see his father, thus he was promised an end to this game after this period of time. In realizing that there was no real end to this situation and game he stopped playing bullshit since they were bigger bullshit in the S.S. than he had been.
He stopped doing the ‘goodly future father thing’ and stopped blaming his father for his disinterest in having a child. It wasn’t that his dad was a bad dad but that he simply didn’t want to be a dad. In seeing himself as a child he realized he really didn’t want one. Although, he did feel that he also in a sense was possibly a natural born actor and considered taking acting classes one day in the future.
This left a great gap for he.
The S.S. no longer had something to play with in terms of shaping him beyond what he was actually interested in being.
Now that he was happy to be in an open relationship and thankful that he had been before the S.S. came in to fuck it up, he no longer had any need to find a wife and wished he hadn’t spent his summer money for a vasectomy on a project for “The Arcade Fire”. Although he greatly enjoyed creating more music videos for a band that probably thought he was disturbed, he thought he’d have a better use of the money in freeing himself of the worry in one day having a child. He found this to be the worse of worst fate’s, next to having to deal with the S.S.
The S.S. is a fate worse than death, a child however is the next, right up there with being homeless. To have the liberal ability of fucking any woman he wanted seemed the right he earned his way to at this age.
He had to assume the S.S. were apart of the Republican Party he had joined, otherwise what group of people would force crazy morality upon someone?
It took a little while for him to realize the people he was talking to from the S.S. were crazy. They felt a need to yell the insane ideas of treating he like a child with the same need to enforce some morality 1950s bullshit that The Beatles ended forever.
It was better to join the side of making sure The Beatles spirit and the 1960s survived and tore up this “other” America instead of buying a tie and joining something he never was interested in being apart of. Is it worthwhile to be rich with nothing inside? No. In the end it really isn’t. He would find his own way to the top. One day, he would find a way to un-do the crazy bullshit that had been done by the right winged conservative media. Or at least end up working for Democracy Now!
The S.S. however had more nefarious plans than simply making him look like a Gay to assure that he wouldn’t get laid in some crazy vengeance through radio waves and flashing lights. And this was to be revealed going through the day celebrating the birth of his mother who allowed him freedom from oppression, the very thing these people wished to impose on him.
Chapter 5
Their true goal in matters of this was to disturb him beyond belief.
They were crazy in all truth, the things they said never made sense.
Through walls in a 1984 way they’d look to break his confidence in himself in anyway they possibly could. “You’re therapist will see, your daddy, your homeless” it was something that started with their first notch “Jessica will see”.
They very idea was ‘if others could see, what would you be?”
It seemed like the tagline of their game. Would you do drugs if others could see? Would you smoke pot if others could see? Would you do cocaine if others could see? Oh no! What if others could see!!!! Oh no! Fuck off.
The S.S. have machines to make you appear depressed. They shoot lights at your eyes to assure that you appear tired, disturbed, the ground somehow vibrates. They broadcast at you the same way Coca-Cola in Japan broadcasts pictures of coke and sounds going ‘ahh’ with little Buy Coca-Cola messages.
Their interest was to demand that he was apart of some sort of family-morality-Republican-machine. It seemed he was likely apart of a political tide involved with the politician Rudy Guliani (because of the fact that both were Italian and if smoothed out and cursed down to a little happy nothing ready to marry and join the Republican party he’d make a nice addition to the promotional skills for the primaries).
It was a cute idea but one he wasn’t ready to go along with my a longshot.
In the end, he found out he’d rather take himself down than join the very thing he despised; shitty pointless tradition for the sake of politics. It was the reason he hated the political machine and the Republican front. Nothing was more bullshit than being total bullshit for the sake of following a day people who are less intelligent than you are celebrating for the sake of celebration. Not to say they all don’t enjoy it, but it seemed ironic that on the 4th of July they would take away his freedom.
They were nothing logical or holy, they were nothing good.
They were worse than he could ever be. Their only goal was to join a family for a political gain. He would say no even if they asked him in person.
But in truth, they didn’t even make sense.
He imagined crazy and desperate members of the Homeland Security commission typing into computers alongside his uncle who was involved in the police and other members of the police commission. He also involved his prior girlfriend of an open relationship who likely was sucked into this situation but well aware that their relationship was based on the idea that they would not have children.
There was a certain desperation in the voices of the S.S. madman.
Their voices were not even real, as they used machines and typed in computer programs to communicate with him. They used words like “boom” and “bullshit” as a deterrence against his actual reality. They used words like programs to describe him to use his own words against him, and only because he was a computer geek since he was a youth.
They considered calling his daily activities “showing off” because if he was happy and successful as he lived the very idea of their situation, their documentary and their actual reality based bullshit behind the scenes but following the outside scenario on the scene wouldn’t work.
If they could film him and make him look crazy on the outside while affecting him on the inside in very subtle ways they could blame it on his medication, his politics or his lack of family values. Or they could say that love wasn’t in his heart but if he only found one woman to love they could finally bring him to see the beauty of his artwork. Or they would make him appear to be a fag through shooting off flashes at the right moment to move his eyes. They would drain his bank account through the summer in order to find a way to get him to return to his relatives or somewhere home. It was a need to make him seem from “Fairfield, Connecticut” instead of from “New York City” which is his home and the place he will keep as home. If they could keep him as a boy from the suburbs or a boy from a lower middle class family they could push the idea that he was a perfect upstanding member of society who was prime to one day be Ronald Reagan.
The thing was 1984 wasn’t a very appealing situation to him.
He decided he didn’t want to join up on either side and be their little pigeons.
He would point the truth at both political parties. He would laugh at both of them.
He would share the truth with everyone.
But the S.S. had more interest in just that.
The S.S. was a desperate group of maddened and hardened moralists along the tide of the neo-cons. The ‘Neo-Con’ movement believed that the government would run best by keeping the people inside the circle of politics by causing fear to be the constant term of currency. Before an election there’s terror. Remember the 2004 half-million-man march on the Republican National Convention? And do you remember when the newspapers would paint the peaceful protestors as madmen? I recall this. And he was there and saw the effect of having a Republican controlled New York City. It meant that one every street there were police officers with white handcuffs ready to ‘get those gosh darn trouble makers while the happy dappy folk invaded the blue city’.
It was a disgustingly weird period of time. He got the New York City his Freshmen year at The School of Visual Arts and thought the city was like this all the time.
If only the city always had people dancing and protesting the injustice our government allows to happen above us all the time.
Without Ralph Nader we wouldn’t have seatbels. But people forget him all the time and paint him the demon of the world. In truth, Barak Obamma should run with Ralph Nader as V.P. and finally get him into office. Ralph Nader would fix this country. Ralph Nader stays up day and night by himself to assure that people are free. Ralph Nader actually reads the mail he gets and works to un-do the years of damage George W. Bush has allowed to take place on our country in the little portions of ‘The Patriot Act’ that nobody talks about because nobody has a big mouth.
I have a big mouth. He has a big mouth. Somebody else will have a big mouth.
It’s time for people to wake the fuck up. Because it’s not worth living if you’re not free. It’s better to have us all blown to hell than to give up our liberties and have big brother shifting down your shoulder to make sure you’re a free and clear American.
They’ll call this crazy and depressed talk. But he knew better.
He knew that this was the kind of thing they didn’t want him to say. And this is why he saw them come after him.
Because he spoke the truth and he spoke it in a situation of povery and forthcoming doom from student loans. But he would throw his full force into the pocket of his work and if they’d sit there and destroy him because he wouldn’t join the happy, the dappy and whatever they meant in their militant broadcast on “good person, happy values” he’d go down with the phrase “I’d rather die than give you control”.
Who were these people who were so crazy they imposed madness on others?
Who were these people who had made Middle-Eastern people into the new detention camp waiting detainees (like how we detained Japanese-Americans during W.W.2 because apparently America has a knack for sometimes deciding we’re going to throw people away because they might, I don’t know, blow up something for the sake of a place they LEFT to come here). It’s not surprising, considering how in Fahrenheit 9/11 they had that guy who spoke about George Bush’s war being bullshit in a gym and the next day the government shows up at his door because somebody called the tell-on-your-neighbor hotline? It’s funny how much the Republicans are against the Communists but at the same time have taken so much of that Russian picture they painted on us.
Then again, considering a lot of the lies we had going on about the Soviet Union in order to gain American support and keep America in fear, it’s not a big surprise.
It seems like he was just unaware of how lucky he was to have grown up in the 1990s.
It really effects the American public to be told they’re going to die all the time. Fucks the people right the fuck up. Bill Clinton was always nice with us and America always went to sleep feeling that the ‘people’s president’ was looking out for them.
Instead, everytime George W. Bush comes on T.V. I’m pretty sure we’re going to bomb a new country and that he’s making a joke. When he says something and looks at the camera I think he’s bullshitting and making a joke to his buddy Slick Matt from his frat.
No, I don’t really believe that he’s the way he is.
And I don’t believe that he doesn’t drink anymore.
And I think it’s a really good idea if your on blow to join the God squad later on after the initial arrest and tell Christ secret whispers for the new generation of neo-conism.
But that’s the reason that Bill Clinton won in 1992.
This forced morality bullshit is exactly that, bullshit. It’s far from the Republican base and base of people who stand pretty much with going on the fence towards the side that works best for them.
When you start throwing God out there, people are fucking freaked out in the normal base.
Following the years that Clinton won and the Democrats kept the White House thus keeping us safe from absurdity, the Republicans were quietly making a deal with the devil (who ironically was in the form of the neo-cons+Republican+protestants and Jesus squad). This is pretty damned scary, but they got people in the churches were there were formally preachers who hadn’t anything to do with politics because church and state were separated. Now convinced that a magic sin is being committed in the stomach of every baby aborted in the world (as if they’re really thought processing creatures at the point that they’re aborted… I call that bullshit) the moral majority began to push America in a different direction. It was actually the ‘Moral Majority’ involved Pat Robinson and those folk who after the 1970s began to build this base against the “liberal doctrine” which is an unfortunate war that has gone in America for quite some time. It’s not entirely the ‘has and has-nots’ because both sides has a little of both, oddly considering the Republican way, but it’s more about the “reality based and the religion-crack-Jesus-cane based”.
It’s quite a tide and quite an unsettling thing to see people sell out their entire future based on the fact that they’re going to stop some poor ass chick in downtown Detroit from getting an abortion because she doesn’t have the money for another kid.
Or doesn’t want a kid.
But these are the people who decide it’s their way or the highway, love it or leave it, even though if all the liberals left the country they’d pretty much have no entertainment industry and essentially implode. It’s a cute idea but just keep in mind that the Republicans will never actually illegalize abortion or they’re going to lose the entire base of lower class blue collar workers who are protestant and are essentially one-issue voters.
Because then people start thinking.
It’s also in the situation that in a time of war the Republicans tend to do better because they’re thing is ‘we kill em good’. But in a time of peace the Republicans don’t do as well because they pretty much give less of a shit about the poor-poor fellow than the Democrats who give a slight more shit. Just a slight bit more, but a bit more than they have to jump on the bandwagon with it or they have no public light spectacle. It seems the Republican way is more currently the George W. Bush ‘dear John’ town-hall planned meeting (with press that’s purchased more faster than a Scott Mccullan or whatever the fuck his name was cheap ass K-Mart suit).
He spoke about all of this. I speak about all of this.
And for this they came after him. He. I. They.
Crazy people with buttons and morality barking up the wrong tree.
He wasn’t going to step backwards into the constitution state.
There was a reason New York City exists.
And it wasn’t for fronting another bullshit smile of buy-my-soul for corn field love.
He was always a New Yorker, he would always be a New Yorker.
The S.S. made him wonder if maybe he was always more of a New Yorker than Rudy Guliani.
If the S.S. had been sent for the Italian ticket and all he wanted was another smile-for-smile character straight cookie-cutter from the Sopranos; in that case Guliani wasn’t a New Yorker; he was a politician.
And in that case, he could see why Guliani had a low approval rating and was disliked by New Yorkers and the poor (according to every New York security guard he’d talked to late night at The School of Visual Arts). He didn’t know because he didn’t live here then.
All he knew was forcing family values, trying to buy hearts and minds and invading countries plus souls was a Republican thing. Alongside scandals in war.
Getting one back for the poor while making deals with the other side for the fact of having to, searching for a happy corporate medium and secretly waging small wars on the side while having sex outside marriage (woo, some fucking scandal) was a Democratic thing.
The S.S. didn’t seem very much like Bill Clinton’s left over buddies to him.
It made him wonder why he ever pretended to be right wing.
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