Byline: How To Handle a Heat Wave
At a bare minimum make it look good.
Then step around the decoration and look for the substance.
Fifteen minutes of a drug is fifteen minutes too long or too short. And fame finds its way through twenty-first century clutter.
We make it past the mid mark mildly. Only so many shopping seasons left and so little time. Shoplifters long for lost love.
I loot local libraries looking for the goods. Non-fiction masquerades as fiction, novels lie about their novelty.
I spot some inspiration, search for my notebook and secure sentences with blue ink dispensed from a medium point pen.
Neither good nor bad, neither a scoundrel nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. I make a note to myself from the underground.
But life isn't simply the choice of choosing between being a hero or an insect. At least not all the time.
In a world where one must invent a life in order to live, I keep my dreams delusional, my senses surreal and my social life sensational.
Some lessons are obvious. Some less so. But life experience is a matter of fleshing out the insides.
To two-step between public good and private greed involves too much dexterity. Egos are built to win. To each his own outline.
Handling heat waves is hot occupation. I hock my goods and hawk my commerce like my art depended on it.
And so it does. In grand graffiti daydreams, I gravitate toward dope droppings and deal in day to day outtakes. But I'm making headway. So there.
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