(no subject)
How are you frank who drinks until he is drank has drunken is become that way just for the antiquated memories in a slipstream of thought, an action perpetuating the theory that all he will ever amount to is a half rate journalist with a drinking syndrom. He just does it to deal, just to realize the way he feels the alcohol numbs you see and it carmelizes pain in a way magnificently unique and he knows this. Better than the most, the most wouldnt know anyways they are content in being alone and in this way saddening to the outside but accepted in the way of things. Tolerated though never treated the same. Frank who drinks until he is drank is waiting on the curb for someone to throw him a dime the station doesnt like people with "emotional problems" thats what they had said after all when they threw him on his ass thats how they justified it that is. Thats how frank found his new role, homeless, a drunk, panhandling for a buzz, and living in a faded dream as the crushing reality of the world refuses to set in. Frank just sits on the curb he sleeps under this canopy that the library provided him at his own request because of the man he used to be and the man he is now, safe from the old him who few people knew but everybody loved, under the canopy safe away from the police, and the reality, and the sorrow of all the world. There couldnt be a more perfect arrangment, these people who supplied his money for his habit had foreknowledge that he was going to spend his money on poison, how could they still give how could they perpetuate his madness, his downfall? Didn't they know, didnt they care, were they too jaded to see. If so wouldnt common decency make you turn away at the sight of Frank? Would you look away and make sure his gaze never found yours? He longs for that you know? Frank the vigilant begger, an artist of unmatched caliber. The recognition the silent way of society and all of its boundaries. Maybe it made him feel good now that people looked away, maybe he wanted to be remembered for who he was in society, and not for the lost cause next door that nobody talks about or that they just tolerate because he has become a staple of their enviroment. If frank disappeared then the ecosystem would be destroyed the local has-been falling down to be awakened at dusk by the sounds of nothingness. He's in this gutter again he always ends up here, the police always find him here anyways and they take him in but always let him go back to his canopy, from the library, and they leave him alone eventually. The gutter in the alley behind the station haunted his dreams too..and when he was truly disconnected from his reality he would walk there and relive that day, the day the cameras caught the truth. He had lost it he was awake finally all of his fears were realized he had accomplished what he always wanted. Complete recognition. He was famous now thats all that matters and his drank was no where near the capacity of the old days he hadnt shaved in 3 months and the debris from the street had collected and been preserved in the haggard facial hair that sprang from his chin. The day old glaze and malaze in his gaze that he possessed fawning over the insignifigant, pitying the masses, feeling the trees change colors, living in solace, hiding in fear, and carrying the bottle. Frank was accepted. Don't look and maybe he'll go away.