Things It Breathes
The Hotel Manager
She didn’t even know where she was when she came up to the desk. She wanted to get a room, but she didn’t have any money. I told her there was an ATM in the lobby, but she said she didn’t have her card, and she’d left her purse somewhere last night, and she hadn’t slept in almost three days.
Of course I knew who she was, but what was I supposed to do? She looked so confused, it was almost heartbreaking. There was this kind of confused desperation in her eyes. She asked if we had a bar, and I gave her three vouchers for drinks. She had two margaritas and a shot of tequila.
I heard later that she walked to the Hyatt Regency and the manager there, Allan, comped her a room. Which was a pretty good thing.
When she left the bar here, one of the servers came up to me and asked, “did you see that?” He told me, “we just saw a celebrity on the verge of a major breakdown.”
The Road Manager
This isn‘t a cry for help, but it really fucking should be. This shit has been going on for a while now, but it’s starting to escalate to the point where someone is going to get seriously hurt. She’s pushed away just about everyone who loves her. Her family, friends, her parents, including me.
Three days ago she fired me. It must have been after she saw herself on the cover of Us Weekley. She looked fucking awful. You know how those photographers are, always trying to get people at their worst moments, but I mean, she looked fucking awful anyway, so it wasn’t too hard to capture her bad side that night. She’d been partying pretty hard, and threw up outside the Venici Blue, and fell over--into her own vomit for god’s sakes-- and couldn’t get up. Those fucking assholes were just standing over her, snapping away until one of the bouncers finally came up and helped her into her limo. But what the fuck am I supposed to do? She’s the one making these choices, not me.
Seven hours after she fired me, she called me again begging me to come pick her up. So I go, and she’s on Washington St., at this dumpy fucking apartment complex. She looked like shit, her hair was a mess and she had makeup smeared all over her face...anyway, she had gone home with this guy from the club, totally trashed, and they fucked, and apparently he took some pictures. She was crying and screaming, a total fucking mess. I took her back to her place, and got her cleaned up and put her to bed, but I’m guessing she passed out for a few hours and went back out. What a fucking mess. What a fucking, nasty mess this is.
The Public Relations Representative
She has a good heart. It is that radiant goodness, which is so easy to sense in her that has captured the public’s attention. Her charm, her amazing good looks, her talents as a singer and actress, these are all the things we love her for, and always will love her for.
Let’s not forget that all the proceeds from her last film went to help combat the AIDS crisis in Africa. She is a good and loving person. Let us not forget that even good people sometimes go through hard times.
The Crows
Our beaks are strong, but can not break the shells of the Acorn. The Acorn shell is thick, and the nut gives unto us the nutrients of life. Without the meat of the Acorn we may well starve. The Acorn is plentiful, but we are ill equipped to eat it.
Long ago we learned to fly high into the air, and drop the Nut onto the hard roads below. Sometimes small cracks would form in the shell, which we then broke with our beaks. But dropping the Acorn, was difficult and took much time and energy.
This is why we place them on Her asphalt driveway. She drives across the piles of our Acorns, breaking the shells for us. Our beaks are strong, but She is stronger still. We pass on this knowledge to our young. She is the Provider. Her tires give us food. She is to be thanked. She is to be loved. The Provider. The giver of food. Forever will the Provider give us the meat of the Acorn. Forever will She be thanked.
The 13-year-old girl
I mean I’m like completely obsessed with her. Oh my god, you should see my wall, it’s covered with her pictures. Me and some friends last week made a collage of all these pictures we clipped out, and in the middle we wrote “DREAM” with blue glitter and glue. That’s because it is my dream to someday meet her. She is so beautiful, and talented. It’s just like... it must be so wonderful to be like that. She has so much beauty in her life. I have all her albums. Her last one is totally my favorite. I have this one poster of her that is so awesome. She’s in this beautiful white gown that’s all tight, and she’s laying over this piano with a snake. That must have been so scary to be holding a snake like that, but she doesn’t even look scared at all. I am going to be just like her someday. I’m going to meet her, then I can show her how much I love her, and how much we have in common, and she is going to love me just as much as I love her. We are going to sing a duet someday. Someday we are going to be best friends.
The City
I am the Tower of Babel. Though no god has the power to tumble my structure.
I reach into the heavens. I give life to those who live within me.
I am the sum total. I am the Knowledge of man.
When I breathe, I breathe in the dreams and love and despair and hope and angst and power and joy and joylessness and the comfort of childhood and the comfort of a lover’s arm and the tickle of cloth against skin and the chill of wet skin and the tightness in your chest and the loneliness that follows burial and the nervousness of newness and the pleasure of sex and the pain you feel.
When I exhale, it is smoke and vapor. And sirens, and horns.
She didn’t even know where she was when she came up to the desk. She wanted to get a room, but she didn’t have any money. I told her there was an ATM in the lobby, but she said she didn’t have her card, and she’d left her purse somewhere last night, and she hadn’t slept in almost three days.
Of course I knew who she was, but what was I supposed to do? She looked so confused, it was almost heartbreaking. There was this kind of confused desperation in her eyes. She asked if we had a bar, and I gave her three vouchers for drinks. She had two margaritas and a shot of tequila.
I heard later that she walked to the Hyatt Regency and the manager there, Allan, comped her a room. Which was a pretty good thing.
When she left the bar here, one of the servers came up to me and asked, “did you see that?” He told me, “we just saw a celebrity on the verge of a major breakdown.”
The Road Manager
This isn‘t a cry for help, but it really fucking should be. This shit has been going on for a while now, but it’s starting to escalate to the point where someone is going to get seriously hurt. She’s pushed away just about everyone who loves her. Her family, friends, her parents, including me.
Three days ago she fired me. It must have been after she saw herself on the cover of Us Weekley. She looked fucking awful. You know how those photographers are, always trying to get people at their worst moments, but I mean, she looked fucking awful anyway, so it wasn’t too hard to capture her bad side that night. She’d been partying pretty hard, and threw up outside the Venici Blue, and fell over--into her own vomit for god’s sakes-- and couldn’t get up. Those fucking assholes were just standing over her, snapping away until one of the bouncers finally came up and helped her into her limo. But what the fuck am I supposed to do? She’s the one making these choices, not me.
Seven hours after she fired me, she called me again begging me to come pick her up. So I go, and she’s on Washington St., at this dumpy fucking apartment complex. She looked like shit, her hair was a mess and she had makeup smeared all over her face...anyway, she had gone home with this guy from the club, totally trashed, and they fucked, and apparently he took some pictures. She was crying and screaming, a total fucking mess. I took her back to her place, and got her cleaned up and put her to bed, but I’m guessing she passed out for a few hours and went back out. What a fucking mess. What a fucking, nasty mess this is.
The Public Relations Representative
She has a good heart. It is that radiant goodness, which is so easy to sense in her that has captured the public’s attention. Her charm, her amazing good looks, her talents as a singer and actress, these are all the things we love her for, and always will love her for.
Let’s not forget that all the proceeds from her last film went to help combat the AIDS crisis in Africa. She is a good and loving person. Let us not forget that even good people sometimes go through hard times.
The Crows
Our beaks are strong, but can not break the shells of the Acorn. The Acorn shell is thick, and the nut gives unto us the nutrients of life. Without the meat of the Acorn we may well starve. The Acorn is plentiful, but we are ill equipped to eat it.
Long ago we learned to fly high into the air, and drop the Nut onto the hard roads below. Sometimes small cracks would form in the shell, which we then broke with our beaks. But dropping the Acorn, was difficult and took much time and energy.
This is why we place them on Her asphalt driveway. She drives across the piles of our Acorns, breaking the shells for us. Our beaks are strong, but She is stronger still. We pass on this knowledge to our young. She is the Provider. Her tires give us food. She is to be thanked. She is to be loved. The Provider. The giver of food. Forever will the Provider give us the meat of the Acorn. Forever will She be thanked.
The 13-year-old girl
I mean I’m like completely obsessed with her. Oh my god, you should see my wall, it’s covered with her pictures. Me and some friends last week made a collage of all these pictures we clipped out, and in the middle we wrote “DREAM” with blue glitter and glue. That’s because it is my dream to someday meet her. She is so beautiful, and talented. It’s just like... it must be so wonderful to be like that. She has so much beauty in her life. I have all her albums. Her last one is totally my favorite. I have this one poster of her that is so awesome. She’s in this beautiful white gown that’s all tight, and she’s laying over this piano with a snake. That must have been so scary to be holding a snake like that, but she doesn’t even look scared at all. I am going to be just like her someday. I’m going to meet her, then I can show her how much I love her, and how much we have in common, and she is going to love me just as much as I love her. We are going to sing a duet someday. Someday we are going to be best friends.
The City
I am the Tower of Babel. Though no god has the power to tumble my structure.
I reach into the heavens. I give life to those who live within me.
I am the sum total. I am the Knowledge of man.
When I breathe, I breathe in the dreams and love and despair and hope and angst and power and joy and joylessness and the comfort of childhood and the comfort of a lover’s arm and the tickle of cloth against skin and the chill of wet skin and the tightness in your chest and the loneliness that follows burial and the nervousness of newness and the pleasure of sex and the pain you feel.
When I exhale, it is smoke and vapor. And sirens, and horns.
posted by sean_garmire at 10:32 AM
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