by Nate Simpson
28 October – The next 90 days were worse than the 90 before and I do not know when or how relief will come, if ever, if ever it is just all, all, all too much the faces again during the stupid times of the day, opening the ‘fridge and out of the corner of my eye a face appears in the window near the table. It’s always in the window and at a certain point I’m not sure it’s anyone else’s face but mine, but it can’t be – it just can’t be because the face is…
05 December – And we’re at the station where the darker skins go east, the lighter and whiter go west and I stand here still on the platform, pulled and drawn by the charge and retreat of the subway cars. The dust, dirt, papers and the trash standing with me are similarly pulled and drawn with the piston of the subway cars.
15 December – Walking into the station, that prick in the fucking suit looked into the air above our heads; as though the answers to all of life’s questions were just hanging there and only he could see them.
15 May – “I just can’t take it anymore it’s too tiring, too much, these circles, circular discussions going, like, fucking nowhere! [pause] But, I like the way she dances. Fuck me! All day she’s there in my mind, all fuckin’ day. What do you think that means? How do I know, it’s why I’m here isn’t it? Well, not at first. Oh, ya. But why does it matter anyway, it’s all circles, circles, circles. That’s it, I’m done. Sorry, Michael. You know this is a mandatory program. A condition of your release. We’re not done until the hour is up.”
