a tree

When I have my son’s friends over they blurt out outrageously freudian unconsciously formed phrases. They are completely uninhibited, which puts me in a position of having to constantly re-establish the boundaries. My own son is pretty clear about the context. However, the setting is completely unfamiliar to his friends. They can be insulting and uncontrollable, even though they’re very nice kids normally. This reminds me of my own friends sometimes, only it’s more blatant, due to their lack of defenses and references. We grew from primary freudian and darwinian readings to frommian and steinbeckian social understandings – the meaning being less important than the intention of writing what they did. I can feel that the outside world feels how this makes us socially dysfunctional and yet desirable. A world they might like to attack and yet feed from. A destructive desire for something insulting the surrounding pretenses and the numbing overstimulation they’re forced to become accustomed to and something that may entail the danger of altering you if you were to deconstruct it. We talk about it when everyone’s gone, listening to music and being complete freaks in our literary dimension of existence. But it makes it so much more clear that we live in a dystopian cannibalistic society and it fills us both with awe that we haven’t been devoured yet after 12 years. Whatever the references, every family feels like this sometimes. This is what is probably created after years of whispering a certain personal narrative to a small ear, often unwilling to hear. Like background noise, collectively appreciated one day as out-of-tune music or a tree reiterating, sometimes towards the wrong direction, due to ultraviolet radiation.


white noise

I sat with a man who makes white noise when he opens his mouth

I was trying to explain things because they told me that being elaborate enables collective thoughtfulness

but all I got in reply was white noise

he made very good points that dissolved my efforts to keep food well refrigerated

I feared for the germs that would develop in the tomato sauce can

but he gave me a canned tomato sauce refrigeration manual to read, explaining that the microbes were really nothing a healthy immune system could not cope with rather effortlessly

that night I dreamed a movie, it was about a pregnant woman who opts to continue with her life instead of giving birth

no need to bring anything to life before it’s aching to come out

when I woke up I wasn’t pregnant, I had tomato sauce on my fingers and the fridge was making blissful autumn sounds