I am X… Be Y… Blessed is the Z…
And these one and all tend
inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
And such as it is to be of
these more or less I am.
I am a girl…
I am a passerby… I am a Cylon…
I am a
giraffe… a wimpy baby… a dentist… a narc…
I am an
ecologist… a “party in my tummy”… a radio station… a philosopher…
I am a
philosopher in gym shorts… a mollusk… a personality disorder… a hygiene
problem…
I am
“nobody’s beeswax”… “everybody’s beeswax”… an ear infection… a virus…
I am a
martyr… a saint… a scientist… a tank… I am a creature… a sandwich… everything… nothing…
I am a “portable luxury goods with flowers”… a train station with trains—
Be
passersby... Be strangers… Be Samaritans… Be gangsters…
Be flavors… interlopers…
followers…
Be self-inflected…
Be self-infected…
Be tourists…
travellers… strangers again…
Be
redundant… Be DaDa… Be something new called MaMa...
Be
anonymous… Be strangers still—
Blessed are
the monotonous, for theirs is the kingdom of boredom.
Blessed are
the trolls, and those who live under a metaphorical bridge or overpass,
symbolically.
Blessed are
the train stations, where trains come, and sometimes go.
Blessed are
the trains that go, and don’t come back.
Blessed are
those who are not favorited, or liked, or followed. Blessed are those who have
no profiles, or whose profiles are poorly made.
Blessed are
those who were not born, because they did not want to be. Blessed are those who
say, “No thanks,” and go back to sleep.
Blessed are
the telemarketers, and spam technicians, and those whom no one wants to talk to
on the phone, or over email.
Blessed are
the lonely, for they can be their own best friends, and in that way have good
conversations, with similar people…
O you lonely,
you can favorite your own tweets, and like your own posts, and start new
profiles, and like them again… Then shall your liking return to you sevenfold…
Blessed are
those who care for ideas more than personal hygiene, whose mouth is a nest of
visions, but whose dreams are very well-groomed—
Blessed is the
oppressed, for hers is the broken kingdom.
Blessed am I in my
loneliness, mother… Blessed the way I am best.
I am a
dinosaur… a donkey… an elephant… a walrus… a carpenter… a hologram…
I am a
robot… a dark robot… a “troubled youth” who is also a robot…
I am a soul…
an electrical pulse… a finite erotic grasping creature… a fishbowl… a
hieroglyph of the living grasses…
I am a think
tank… an endangered species… I think I died a long time ago… I am a suicide
artist… a suicide prevention hotline artist…
I am an
apologist for cannibalism in certain scenarios when there is no meat… not even
human meat… or humans to eat the meat…
I am a sad
billionaire with no money… I wrote tiny messages on my dollar bills and used
them to replace the internet… I gave my dollars away… I called it the
dollarnet… I sold it for lots of money…
That is how
I made my billions…
I am a BOGO
sale… there is only one of me left... I am the last of my kind... I am half off…
I am a
subatomic event… a cold war… a hot war… but mostly, I am a lukewarm war—I’d
prefer I was a hot war or a cold war, a lukewarm war I will spit out of my
mouth, electing to chew gum instead…
I am an
information age… I know nothing… I can move whole souls with my thoughts…
I am an
elitist… a populist… a terrorist… I am a person killed by a terrorist… I am a
person killed by the people who are trying to kill the terrorists… and I am not
a terrorist—
I keep
forgetting to be boring… to plagiarize more… I keep forgetting to just
transcribe… to copy and paste… not to think… not to read… I keep forgetting not
to breathe… I keep forgetting I am dumber than a robot… I will be more boring
in 2016…
I will read
less in 2016… repeat myself more in 2016… be more self-absorbed… eat more fried
foods… vary sentence structure less…
I will use
more predictable sentences in 2016… consume more processed sugars… make more
frequent use of “positive self talk”… transform my life by “positive thinking”…
I will build
wealth and peace of mind by tweeting more in 2016…
I am a space
program… a bumper sticker… happenstance… I am meant to be…
I am “true
love’s kiss”… an app killer… omg… I will be less charitable with others in
2016…
I am Mildly
Cyrus… I will bathe less in 2016… omg… more processed foods in 2016…
procrastinate more… 2018…
I am a real
human person just like you… a Congressperson… Senator… a corporate mogul… I am
a tiny baby and I am a real human person too...
Congressmen
are people too… and billionaires are people too… and corporate moguls people
too… and tiny babies people too… and corporate moguls babies too… and tiny
babies billionaires too…
CEOS are
people… Tupac is alive… Books are billionaires… Words are alive… Be passersby…
I will
eliminate distractions and focus on social media more in 2016… try less in
2016… “keep it simple”… “lose my cool” in traffic more in 2016…
BLZ… ZRRR…
rRRR… ZZZZ… RrRR… BZ… LLL… RrRr…
That was me
“losing my cool” in traffic in 2016… because babies are billionaires too…
Blessed is
the bipolar, for he shall be sometimes depressed, and sometimes the opposite of
depressed, for stretches at a time.
Blessed is
the malcontent, for he shall speak up about his lack of contentment; and when
he speaks, he shall be heard. Blessed is the contender.
Blessed is
the unemployed, for he shall have more free time.
Blessed is
the broken, for he shall go to sleep.
I am a
cowgirl… a space cadet…
Blessed is
the distractible, for he shall often lose his train of thought, and search for
it, and sometimes find it again, and feel relief.
Blessed is a
billionaire with no money, for what is a billionaire with no money? He is a
broken thing, a rag of light.
Blessed is a
rag of light.
I will be
less original in 2016… I am a proud non-speaker of words… the Logos awoke in my
skullcase… a proud non-breather of air…
I am a
fictional character who exists… I make things up by thinking about them…
declare lame fatwa on banality… write from the perspective of a vampire hunter
to an audience of vampires and vampire victims…
I am a
vibrating scar of miracles… above the cities of the voice… a virus of belief
and money… an alien producing a virus… a soft delusion… of soft whispers… I
don’t exist… I exist…
I am the
voice within your voice… the one who was within me… the smaller dinosaurs
within the dinosaurs… I don’t exist… but I do…
Be
passersby… Be protester… Be police…
Be
malcontent… all things to all people… Be all people…
Be nothing
to no one… Be no one…
Be atom
bombs of justice power… Be empty alarums of space and time… Be Ghosts of
Hanukah Future…
Be saintly…
Be bright… Be nowhere men and nowhere women…
Be shadows
of rocks and sticks… Be the rocks and sticks themselves… Be fully awake… Go
back to sleep…
I used to be
a person… I worked 7 years for a PhD… my children were on Medicaid…
I became
fully broke… I went back to sleep…
I am the one
who was within me
Become fully
awake… Become finally free…
The tinier
dinosaurs inside the dinosaurs…
The tinier
babies… the billionaire babies…
The
billionaire babies inside the babies… which is really just broke babies…
Which is
really just you and me…
The space
cadets… the time machines…
The atom
bombs… the jellybeans…
Wake up or
go back to sleep
(c) 2613 the moon
