21st Century Problems: A.D.D., Work, and Sh*t Part 2 (#12) (Louis Toliver Jr-Swartz, LA)

"21^st Century Problems: A.D.D., Work, and Sh*t Part 2 (#12)"

I feel like I was on a very, very long lunch break, but I took a shit and it cleared mind.

Job #3: YoguLand Shift 2 (2:00 PM)

“Do you have anymore hot fudge?” Someone was asking me a question, but I wasn’t paying attention. I am thinking about my life and how I feel like I need some sort of change. Maybe I should venture out from Michelle Branch. I need some new kind of music to inspire me. Hmmmm…..what could it be? “Hello! Are you listening to me?” the person continues talking to me, but I was distracted weighing pieces of Reese’s peanut butter cups. Who could be my new musical inspiration?

Job #4: Hot Dogs (4:30 PM)

Hot Dogs was pretty close to being the worst of jobs, but they paid well for me to stand on the side of the road in a Chihuahua costume holding a hot dog and waving. They claimed that this helped get them business for dinner, because they believed that people don’t often think of hot dogs as a dinner food….they apparently had done a study that claimed people associated hot dogs more as a lunch food. I honestly could care less as long as I got paid and no one recognized me.

Job #4: Men R Us (6:30 PM)

This was by far my favorite job because I got to work from home on my webcam. Basically, all I had to do was put on an adult diaper and talk to men and women across the globe pretend to be a baby at times and be “naughty.” It’s not as awkward and uncomfortable as it sounds. I get to work my own hours at Men R Us….O-M-G…my new musical inspiration just came to me…Justin Bieber. That’s it! I need to step up my game, especially after my break up with Terry. I’m about to find my inner playa.

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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