I found this in a note book and found it amusing
"I don't want to be here." I suddenly realized. It wasn't the small, black room whose walls felt like slabs of death ready to slam into us at any moment. It wasn't the noise from the jazz concert going on outside in the art gallery, piano going through seizures, horns screaming. It wasn't even the girl sitting next to me speaking some kind of eubonics to her apparent boyfriend while her mouth was too full of watermelon and his hand was much too far up her leg under her much too short skirt.
It was none of these above. It was the simple fact that I was here. That was becoming a frequently recurring issue. No matter where I was it was not where I wanted to be... or, rather, it was where I wanted not to be. Subtle difference, perhaps, but a pivotal one.
______________________________________________________________________________________
I wrote that in the Black Box for those of you whom that means anything to.
It was none of these above. It was the simple fact that I was here. That was becoming a frequently recurring issue. No matter where I was it was not where I wanted to be... or, rather, it was where I wanted not to be. Subtle difference, perhaps, but a pivotal one.
______________________________________________________________________________________
I wrote that in the Black Box for those of you whom that means anything to.