|
librarys are dusty, they slow you down. everyone there looks kinda faded. everytime i ever went the people all look like they go home to strange, sexual deviance. in the new library in my town there is a little room were all the homeless and neglected elderlies go to read newspapers. i would skip school and read there, those were the days. desperately lonely, escaping into phillip k. dick. one time a dude kept lookin at me, he followed me outside when i went for a smoke. he looked like old piss. he grunted about going to get drunk down by the river, i did, he had no money so i bought him cheap wine. he told me about how his ex wife had fucked him over and left him for some other dude. he sounded gentle and helpless with her. he told me about his life. it seemed so grey and so overwhelmingly bleak and small, he had no dreams, not one aspiration or glimpse of anything beyond his everyday. he was just down and had this "oh well" attitude. i tried to spark some thoughts of oppurtunity and future in him but it wasnt happening. i can remember this image of him sitting in the rain, with the grey bleak sky beside the black murky river, just deadened.
few weeks later i heard that he was dead.
|