Born & Bred
my morning
reading Sheila’s
coupled with this scary poster of hate
I happened upon
prompted me to itemize
Item one: On Tuesday mornings I travel to a relatively new day job in Newark via the PATH train. It’s rush hour’s crazy mob scene at the World Trade Center. What seems like all of New Jersey and the rest of the world is moving in the opposite direction to me. They’re in my way and I’m in their way. The metaphor is maybe too easy but I take the situation as representative of my particular karma.
Item two: Karma constantly manifests this Vulgar Herd in opposition to me. Consequently my anger and aggression are also in constant need of sublimation. This aggression has refined perfectly into service to my other day job, Texas Hold-em Poker. The sublimation process has taken me over 15 years but I now realize it’s not “me against the rest of the world.†There is no vulgar herd; there are only the ten seats of the poker table. That means that at any one time, there are no more than nine assholes between me and my super-sized hamburger with fries. Not only are these odds I can live with, it’s the kind I thrive on. I am an American, born and bred.
Item three: America has transformed itself into a fat, ugly mutant in the eyes of much of the world.
Item four: I’ve never been tamed but I’m way too old to still have “day jobs.” Maybe it’s time I retire into theatre or butoh somewhere. Somewhere is that place that is other than here.
