Books I`m currently reading, late November 2012

Ok, just because I haven`t listed those in a while, and for the sake of what-the-fuck-ness, here`s my current reading (or re-reading) list:

'American Pastoral' by Phillip Roth (1997);

'A Swiftly Tilting Planet' by Madeleine L'Engle (1978),

'The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath' by Sylvia Plath and Karen V. Kukil (2000);

'Elektra Assassin' by Frank Miller and Bill Sienkiewicz, Marvel Comics (1986);

'V for Vendetta'  by Alan Moore and David Lloyd, DC Comics/Vertigo (1988).


A manifesto (in transit)

These blank spaces of paper, Lyla, see?,  they`re starting to feel like those endless long stretches of road rolling up ahead when you`re 18 & driving from in-between towns late at night, all by yourself, Bruce Springsteen blasting from the tape deck and emptiness riding shotgun, nowhere else really to go but home when the fuel gauge drops to rock bottom plus no one else to see, everybody`s silhouettes moonlit as if burned out for the duration of the remainder of their ‘teen years.

Then we get into College, in, out, through just like that, our philosophies a speck of dust, a footnote somewhere of no importance, and we get jobs, hop from job to job sort of pretending corporate life doesn`t really suck that bad, that it`s in fact slightly bearable, etc but it`s not, and we lose our hair, stop running, grow a potbelly, get a girlfriend, grow a beard, buy a washing machine, ponder of pets, lose a coupla magic words, get a life, the comic books all laid out for the perusal of dust mites or somesuch. I wish I could still fly but those poems, Lyla, man, all of them, they`re all gone, see? They`re all gone and sometimes it`s late at night and I`m all by myself and I swear to god, the falcon cannot, will not hear the falconer.

And when I finally call it quits on trying to get some sleep I trudge on flip-flops towards the kitchen and open the oven, maybe looking for the ghost of Sylvia Plath but it`s a microwave, fuck, and all I get is the spirit of the twentieth century instead, like a political refugee seeking asylum from the current zeitgeist.

It`s late November, 2012, this close to the world`s end if you`re to believe the History Channel and I so dearly want to burn my Smartphone on that microwave oven, Lyla…