Ordinary Lives

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Feeling is the beginning of hurting where what is felt solidifies at the tip of a tender leaf not letting go of the past and unwilling to accept the future and what it brings. It is at this crease in time in which I find myself balancing tens of apples on the sharp end of a large kitchen knife still wet from the diswasher. Then the sink screams, the microwave burps, the stereo in the living room sings an out of tune Turkish song, and it is time for my shower.

Clothes come off, one by one, perhaps even somewhat out of the ordinary order, the mirror stares on, the towels ready for my wet skin. I climb in and embrace the strings of water that seem to shoot through my conscience and clean all my regrets and pains. But the remedy is temporary because the memory of it all remains. "One slip and one ends up with a broken neck, how come no one ever thought of a shower insurance?" I ponder to myself.

Then that funny book comes to mind. I think its lines to myself, trying to remember every word. Somewhere in my mind a duo sings "you can not do it, you have failed again". But I tune them out like a radio station, like some old e mail print out I recycled, like a monitor I shut down even without shutting down the CPU cause I felt like living dangerously that day. Risking my equipment, risking my job, I unplugged the damn plastica electronica box out of that wall, because I had never done that before. To my despair, nothing went wrong, the monitor lived on.

I turn my head underneath the shower nozzle and my life is burdened by the experiences of others. I am constantly told to do this or that and to avoid all of the above that
involves thinking. My life is lived for me and then put into a package of four with one free at Wal-Mart.

I step out of the shower drops of water being licked by the A/C which is obviously turned down too low. I want to breathe and for that I take a pill. I knew it too, way before I had it coming. I got off the plane and they told me "you just wait, in four years, your allergies will drive you mad". It is almost like telling a child that he will support an unyielding erection in four years and not know what to do with the damn thing.

I climb into bed, one of the few good investments in my life; the pillow soaks my hair in, the comforter dances on my legs and I am in heaven, first row center. The A/C kicks in and crawls into my bed but he has a really restless sleep, I hear him leaving my bed several times during the night. All the better I think to myself his feet are too cold.