wah-wahs not water wars; blooms not booms

(by Matt Moon)
I brought a bottle of wine bought on the way at a chain convenient store to a house whose front door was unlocked and people filled the light blue and dark red-colored air with musical vibrations bouncing all around everywhere and my ears rang with pleasure as I rose to a smile like a sunshine for a face. Pretty girls were all around. Ugly ones too. Boys of all shapes and sizes from effeminate Ted and pussy behavior to grizzly bear Joe who used to wrestle grizzlies while living in the Canadian mountains as a youth in army school. Joe and I bumped chests and I set down my bottle of wine and began the booty-shaking and everything burned up the walls and screams were yelled as sweating women stomped their feet on off-color carpet covering hardwood floors built in 1902 -- cheap and slummed like we like it -- and I stopped and talked with an Indian girl whose name I couldn’t remember because [it's foreign and unfamiliar] and she told me that she was going to work in a school in her parents’ home country of Bangladesh. My mind scolded at me for not getting into her pussy. I immediately think how I’m racist somehow. Then I talk to the other Indian-looking girl who wasn’t as hot or interesting and I danced with a body that approached my direction and tornadoed myself throughout the house. The reasons were written all over the walls – alienation, loneliness, unoriginal thought (must it always be posters of idols?) and the fireplace didn’t work because zoning laws made you turn on the gas. Jesus Christ had nothing to do with it, not anymore in any soul’s heart. I was the closest one since I’ve long wanted to be Jesus redeemer of the world with the heart bursting out of his chest radiating love until the whole world around him became a big WAH-WAH of love, a neverending purr that filled every atom in your space-filled body filled with space.
Grizzly Joe’s girlfriend comes up to me with her thin body and perfectly stretched small tits and I start to dance wit her, I love to dance with her, our bodies move like magic and I never would have really liked her if we didn’t dance so well together – she let me fling her like I wanted and she was light enough to spin around with my high school wrestling toss-improvisations and she would run and hope if I wanted, barefoot in the grass across a graduation party evening and one night 18 months ago I laid my head in her lap while drunk on wine at the first ever [national chain campus group] dance party -- which I knew was obviously influenced by my dance off with this [weird crazy spontaneous kid that had some genius but seemed utterly clueless and hard to take seriously (you felt like he was a walking actor who couldn’t obviously be this bizarre)] -- and now there was a dance party with me in high demand as I hip-rocked the ladies and then I was laying in the lap of this long thin sexy dancer and she ran her hands through my hair lovingly, and I purred like a cat and somehow I ended up walking out the front door with her and Grizzly Joe and I could feel that it was this competition. This great big question of who got to walk her home [and then what?] and I just felt it in every step on the sidewalk, the three of us, and I decided to happily excuse myself from the equation. I know not the equation – fear, love, guilt, -- probably all three together like a big glass beaker in my brain filled by a [Chem101] student half-confused dumping hazardous chemicals down the drain. But then he and her were together pretty much and then [the regional conference] happened and myself and my best friend [who was a group member for about two-and-a-half weeks] took his mom’s empty house that needed to be sold and we danced the fuck out of that place with a boombox that skipped like crazy because we were so lost in it, we being 10 from the [campus group] and any young people we invited and we went totally insane before the booze even kicked in, we suddenly went into the small room and started banging on the floor and hollering in maddened tongue and the boombox skipped for 43 seconds as God appeared on earth did a jig and then went mad-bat shit crazy indigenous drugged all of a sudden screaming in the woods and having a spiritual orgy with every atom the filled the space. Electrontricityprettywittyittybittycity. Her and me danced hot that night. Then I read too much [war and terror text/video documents] and fell into a deep depressed certainty that the world would collapse and Hell would unleash itself on planet earth and we’d all die or at least I would.
“How you doing, Jacob?”
“I’m fantastic. And yourself?”
“Beautiful.”
I smile and she smiles. We do a weird whacked out chicken dance that we fall into somehow. Then I find myself drinking wine and talking with boys out in the backyardalley where people drank clear plastic cups filled with beer from the keg and I drank my wine and stumbled up to Grizzly Joe and this Republican-esque smalltown kid who joined last fall and kept going to the meetings.
“… it was ridiculous,” Republican-esque smalltown kid finished. His name was Ted and I asked him what it was; it was his being an intern for Republican state politicians and his seeing what a big joke that representative democracy was. “I mean, one time they had this meeting where none of the interns were allowed to attend, but we were standing right outside the door and we could hear what they were saying, and they were saying shit like we gotta show those Democrats who runs this statehouse!” like a big rah-rah pep rally run by a bunch of frat-house retards. I smirked and nodded knowingly, because I am the knower of all things. I am the cynical senior and I yell some quote about Democracy I stole from Charles Bukowski and the two of them laugh politely. And then I leave and then I come back and Grizzly Joe is telling Republican Tom and [his friend] that using force will at some point be necessary.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Joseph?” I ask. “At what point will it be necessary to ‘use force’,” and I use the quote marks.
“Well,” he says, “say for example, everybody on High Street decided to stop paying rent to their landlords who live off in [the richlands]. It’s not like the police are just going to stand by and let that happen. They’re gonna come in with smoke bombs and batons and start beating heads in [like they used to shoot firehouses at peacefully protesting black people].”
And I nod my head. “Sure,” I say, “but listen! * -- What’s going to really happen is that we’re gonna start this traveling mouth band, and we’re just gonna parade around the earth singing stupid nonsense songs and we’ll go to every land and we won’t buy visas and if they throw up a GREAT WALL we’ll just cover it with crayon drawings,” and I kick my foot to implicate the insanity and then take a big swig of the glass and smile as big as I can. Joe the jovial drunk. He starts tootin’ his horn and doing this crazy kicking dance and the three add bass “ching ching” wah-wah sound and people not.ice from afar.
I stop and smile. “Excuse me while I get more wine.”
Inside, Like a Prayer by Madonna is beginning. People are already singing.
My glass is refilled with the white wine that’s left and I slide back into the dance-room in the middle of the house. I snap into the role of intense singing with a big perma-grin breaking my face my cheeks are gonna go through the bones of my skull and we all enslave ourselves to the vibrations in the air until we’re sweating and throwing ourselves passionately across the floor like a church choir in equator Africa and in the end, we all just smile and breathe at each other, and every look at one another is like a cosmic holy fuck after you just did the deed in a wild wonderful exhilarating way that I’ve never had fucking [no that’s a lie, I’ve had it while fucking]. I would marry [this one girl in the room] if her boyfriend didn’t exist. Instead, I’ve tempted him to eat [the fruit of knowledge of good and evil] and now we’re great buds waitin’ to bloom from the pull of the moon as we all skyrocket ‘round the sun in elliptical circles that are part of circles whose center we cannot see. I touch two girls bare feet and suddenly it’s 4 AM and I walk out of the closing house with this weird 30-year old grad student who teaches and runs this indigenous slave-fighting dance that slaves did in Brazil so they could keep sharp on their martial arts while pretending to just be “dancing”. We drink another beer on the sidewalk by the main drag and we help out this wandering dumb white trashy girl whose boyfriend is “Palestinian” and treats her like an obedient Muslim wife even though he’s not that devout. We comfort her and let her call her friends who take thirty minutes to pick her up. We drink a second beer and I tell him about the girl I love and he agrees that we’re two peas in a pod on some infinite pea patch full of wonderful bubbles and sizzles and pops. Then we say goodbye and I walk home as the sun begins to illuminate the sky and I go inside, my mostly dark house as the rising dawn slowly oh slowly illuminates the air through our many windows and I goof around for a second and drink some water and sit, before I go upstairs to pass out and sleep in my wonderful wonderful comforters, resting my head on my flattened pillows, and let my brain shut down its 0s and 1s until all the lights on the circuit board have twinkled down and out and sleep comes to everything.