And that’s when I saw the collision of these two corporations as the center of the universe, where 500 years ago we all thought that we all were. Apple Computer in Cupertino, California seemed so magnificently opposed to Micrsoft of Redmond, Washington, as if Apple had some magnificent ultimate goal other than making money. I stayed on the left side of the room, and he stayed on the right.
Left-right symbolism at its greatest. A spaniard’s superstition extended into some all-encompassing metaphor ruled my entire evening. It all made so much sense.
The stars were invisible from the light pollution polluting the upper regions of the skies over Fairfax, Virginia, a city considered by many in my mind to be the excess of suburbia, or the “super suburbia.” Thoughts of metropolitan crowds joyous and unaware of large amounts of Russki-acquired biohazardous substances being directed their way filled my mind like Russki-acquired biohazardous substances. Dull, doe eyes gazed up at an American flag painted the previous day, just dry following a night of worshipping. Women who swore their virginity to near eternity sat back in the bars griping about the days events to their equally conservative moral colleagues, and never pondered their inadequate pay relative to the other, empowered sex.
I sit in my dorm room hoping for another gerund, praying for the end of prayer, lighting another cigarette swearing that it will be the last one.
“This is beautiful” is the only thought that comes to mind. The day is long, and I am short compared to everything.
Christ demonstrated his triad to the apostles through a superstition that remains in the Catholic tradition. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Your screaming face was best in thirds, the impacting hitting me like a Mack truck in central Manhattan. My head rolled like a walnut to the sidewalk. Keep your jokes to the third. Face-face-scream. Even cruel jokes.