Monday, November 4, 2019

Overread at Booth 3: PoD "Fade"

Sometimes he just likes to lay back on his bed and fade.
Fade is the word he had for it.
He read some poem online once, someone had posted it somewhere,
about Zen meditation needs to be like a shot in the
arm like morphine or heroin, but
he ain't never done heroin or morphine and wouldn't want
to anyway, why would you want to ruin
your body with that shit?
he thinks Carlito does heroin
but like it's some sort of open secret that nobody talks about
but he just wants to fade
can Zen make you fade?
What was the rest of the poem?
Something about breathing, and breath,
and with each breath you take in the Universe and the
Universe breathes you out.

He feels like the universe has breathed him out.
Breathed him out into a world he never chose and
does not know and which is foreign to him,
like this bed is foreign, and these walls are foreign
and that lamp and that laptop and that guitar he
never plays is foreign, all these things
that he's had for years, the things he goes to
sleep with and wakes up to, they
often seem like somebody else's room,
somebody else' life.

Maybe that is what it means to fade.
Maybe this is Zen.
Maybe this is heroin, or morphine,
or how Carlito lives every minute of the day.


Friday, November 1, 2019

Overheard at Table 3: Heater

Husband:  I think it's time to turn on the heater.

Wife:  Not tonight.  Wait until tomorrow before we leave for work.   That way, if there is any gas leak it won't kill us in our sleep.

Husband: How are we gonna know if there is any gas leak or not.

Wife: We come home and the cats aren't dead.

Husband:  Geez honey and I thought you were a cat lover.

Wife: I do love the cats.  I just love us more.