That Would Have Been A Whole Lot Cooler If It Had Worked

Ain't things supposed to be getting easier?

"Yeah you got it tough kid. But not like I had it tough. When I was a babe my mother used to beat me with her hand for crying, then she'd beat me with a stick for hurting her hand." - Laz Jones

There was an older woman in the room and she was screaming at us. The pretty young woman to my left was on the verge of tears and I kept reaching out and rubbing her back to calm her down. I kind of liked it though and I felt dirty for wanting to protect her. I remember how warm she was. The little kid on my other side was amazingly calm, glaring at the older woman. I think it was his mother. I decided she might have been pretty a dozen years ago, and still she was a handsome woman. But she was angry in an ugly way. Most of her anger was directed at the pretty young woman, but still she had enough for me and the little kid. I wanted to punch her, but my middle finger was broken and I couldn't seem to get the momentum going to swing at her. Besides I liked rubbing the pretty girls back with my right hand, and the little kid had a patient but strong deathgrip on my left arm. The older woman moved and the pretty young woman bolted for the window, throwing herself through it and plummeting towards the ground. The older woman shrieked as I thundered past her, lunging half out the window to try and grab the pretty young woman. I couldn't reach. That didn't stop the little kid though, still gripping my arm he launched himself over me and out the window. He grabbed her. But she didn't want to be grabbed so she kicked and screamed, the little kid held on. The older woman threw herself on top of me and I couldn't tell if she was trying to hurt me or help me. Either way she was heavier then I would have expected, and just as warm as the pretty young woman. There was a noise. We all stopped squirming. Then the building came down.


I walked into the bar at the end of Velvet Goldmine and Ewan McGregor was sitting at his table. He was dressed like his character in the movie sitting in a scene of the movie, but he wasn't in the movie, so he was Ewan not Kurt. I said, "I know who you are." But he said I didn't. I argued with him, "Just say it. Just say who you are." But he wouldn't. The waiter brought him a pint of dark beer. He brought me an orange soda. This shook my confidence. But I wouldn't relent. Finally I stood up from the table, not angry, but loud and said..."Just say it, just say who you are. I already know who you are." Without ever bothering to look at me he took a sip of his dark pint of beer and said over the top of his glass, "You don't even know who you are." With that the Ewan/Kurt beast put me in my place.

I was sitting in a familiar place with a familiar group of people whose names I don't all know, when an old friend showed up. He walked into the room like he'd never left, accompanied by a swoosh of brown off to his side. I was glad, although not altogether surprised, to see him. But I could see him. He acknowledged me, but never really talked to me. Just sort of went about this thing as if he'd never left. But there was something strange. I looked over my shoulder. Standing there, dressed all in brown, was a girl I used to know. She had her back to me but I still recognized her (not in a pervy sort of way either, just in a way that everything about her was familiar). I wanted to say hello, but I couldn't. Wanted to chat a bit, but my voice wouldn't cooperate. Everyone else was gathering off to one side of the room. I was confused, but I still felt good. Then the lights went out and I was lost in the darkness.

There is no light...we run on.