Natural selection against numbers (or Gradualism against symbols)

As I've grown more accustomed to using words

it seems that my former proficiency with numbers

leaks out of my head

until I'm adding 52 as 54.

Consciousness evolved as a defense mechanism -

evolving, as punctuated equilibrium to external stimuli.

The stimulus - florescent light, adjectives and adverbs.

Natural selection against numbers. Gradualism against symbols.

The accountant forgets how to use the correct form

of their, there, they're.

And the toll booth attendant forgets

how to treat people in a social situation.

(Which is I guess why they're always talking on their cell phones.)

(Training for a future social situation.)

(One where they're not alone, in between 20 second interactions with strangers.)

(Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz.)

If:

Man, being alive, conscious and afraid, forgets how to live.

And:

Woman, being alive, conscious and afraid, forgets how to live.

We learn from the Bible:

God is faithfully unafraid.

Therefore:

God is not alive.

An explanation of the prior piece

I'm usually a firm believer that you shouldn't have to explain what you write, but I don't want "A Collective Social Experience" to be taken the wrong way.

The last piece was not an indictment of being pro-choice. In fact, I'm very pro-choice. I was thinking about access to choice, and wanted to explore (and make you think) about how our access to money influences the choices we make. Does that mean a woman who sticks out an unwanted pregnancy is more pious than a woman who takes society's so-called "easy way out"? I don't know. I don't think so, but I've never had to make that choice.

My point is this: I think the piece talks about how access influences choice, but I'm not so sure it doesn't also talk about how choice influences access - that is, a woman whose mother has a child out of wedlock is also more likely to have a child out of wedlock - so our parent's choices influence our choices, whether as a function of wealth, religion, or both.

That's it. I didn't want to delete it, even though I thought about it, but I decided an explanation would be prudent.

A Collective Social Experience

Aborted fetuses and birth control

shield young rich girls

from the fate of their poor counterparts.

Allowing them to go on unfettered,

unrelenting on their path to perfection.

A collective social experience

shared by the affluent, the pretty

and the better off.

An understanding between them

of how close life got to the trailer, or the projects.

A way to control thousands of years

of urges between tall boys

and busty girls.

A way to give the wanted child everything,

including their own chance to do the same.

The i In Voice

Strain to hear
my small voice
Please.
Waves crash to the shore
At intervals
Drowning. White noise

i am hungry
To find the words
To say what i mean
Far from the land of my birth
With its colorful
Papaya and language
That no longer fits

The dichotomy of the
american dream
i open each text ready
To find the words
my words
Searching for me

III.- A return to normalcy

On the street

sweltering fumes rose from block after block

and our heads swam with beer.

The dark kind, less like beer and more liquor.

I can smell the smoke on you, I said.

A long drag of summer.

A return to normalcy -

the other seasons, deviant.

Dead, dying or diseased.

My breathing set side by side with coughing.

Your dress hung off you like curtains

and you concealed your bagged eyes

with concealer and sunglasses.

You mourned, the days passed by without you noticing.

Our trysts revolved around sport

food and pieces of Orbit.

In rapid succession

our own orbit was elliptical -

at times close and others distant.

I wake up removed.

Clove clinging to cilia,

scotch served clean

and always regretful of the past.

Like putting on a sad song

and walking away from the music

unwilling to listen but needing it to be playing.

Scene bars with PBR.

Text messages and penitence.

II.-An ill-fitting dress

When people emerge from Winter

bleak eyes three months dimmer from

florescent lights

they open their cores to the thought

that their gametes could converge with another's.

But like the worst night of a show's run,

where the New York Times reviewer sits in row two

and stares down his nose, through his glasses, 

and chortles. CHORTLES! -

I shaved a forest of growth

and she put on an ill-fitting dress.

We walked down to the corner 

(or we met there, I can't remember. Damn the cold.)

and bellied up to the bar.

The spring threatened, but wavered.

It was warm, but it wasn't.

It was nice, but it was snowing.

It rained for three days straight.

But inside, my Blackberry still went off.

Her iPhone tempted her to better company.

Maybe the promise of a better time, with better people

and more attractive mates.

She told me how wonderful the springtime was

and I remarked on how tree pollen made me feel lightheaded, but not high.

My phone went off and hers did too.

I laughed, and though of how the poor rely on their technology.

The trick to being rich, I said finally, is to be above your phone and e-mail.

Be there, but not there. Be so there that you are unable to be found.

Like Jesus. 

(If there was ever a fellow above it all, it was Jesus. Body and mind.)

Jesus' would have never answered his cellphone.

The Legend of El Misti

Continued...

CAMERA SHOT THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD OF AN ON-COMING PASSENGER BUS APPROACHING THE FOUR MEN.

BUS APPROACHES. CAMERA PANS TO RIGHT. WIDENS TO SHOW ALL FOUR. 

The four men stand outside the local agency were they began their day fresh from the overnight bus ride from the east coast of Peru. The sun is shinning brightly. The dry air sets the stage of a truly epic adventure. The clock reads 1:43PM. 

KYLE

This must be the 4x4. I imagined something a bit more...4x4.

MATT

What? Never underestimate the power of a...

He leans to the right side to take a look at the manufacture of the aged and wore white multi-passenger bus. 

...umm, 1974 hot-pickle bus.

VICTOR

This is going to be awesome!

The driver hops out of the driver's side and comes over to the curb where the four stand and starts to load the hiker's bags and equipment. The owner comes out of the store and assists the driver and gives him instructions in spanish.

DRIVER

Hola. 

MATT, ZACH, VICTOR

Hola. 

KYLE

Hi.

OWNER

We wait for guide. On his way down. Just a few minutes. Not Long. 

The four sit in the bus. The bags tightly packed in front. Kyle and Zach sit in the middle seats next to the bags. Victor sits in the back with Matt as he stretches his legs out. The four relax in the van and await the guide. It's 2:02PM. 

ALL FOUR LOUNGE IN THE VAN. CAMERA SHOT FROM OUTSIDE SLIDING DOOR. 

Time passes. The clock now reads 2:34PM. The owner and the driver stand outside the store talking. The four remain in the van.

KYLE

Where not going anywhere.

ZACH

This sucks... 

Where is the guide?

 Didn't he say he was on the way down the mountain?

MATT

That's what he said. I bet he's calling one right now.

VICTOR

He'll be here.

KYLE

You're so glass half full. 

I love it...

 But I don't think we are going anywhere today. 

FOCUSED ON THE CONVERSATION OF THE OWNER AND DRIVER AND FOLLOW AS THE DRIVER APPROACHES THE VAN AND GETS IN.

The owner comes to the door of the van and speaks to the four who still sit in the van very relaxed and visibly tired and low. 

OWNER

We are going to meet the guide and pick him up on the way. 

Ok? He is on his way.

MATT

Alright.

ZACH

Are we going to have enough time to make it to the top?

OWNER

You said you were strong. You hike fast.

The four laugh but the expressions on their faces show that they know the owner's words are only half jokingly. Excitement again fills the faces as the van starts and rolls towards the volcano.

The van continues to make turn after turn through the city streets. The four pier through the van's windows looking for their destination. The van comes to a stop at an intersection. 

DRIVER

We wait for the guide.

ZACH

Again?

KYLE

We aren't going anywhere.

MATT

I am starting to believe you.

VICTOR

My glass is half empty.

The clock now reads 3:27PM and still no guide. Matt and Zach are standing outside the van looking over a brick wall that separates a school's play area from the town streets. They make faces at the staring children. Kyle stretched out in the van is falling asleep and Victor is playing with his iphone. 

DRIVER

He's here!

A small blue pickup truck pulls up behind the van and a man wearing a hat and a pair of sunglasses gets out of the passenger seat and walks towards the van. His pack is the size of the small blue pickup.

GUIDE

Hola.

He continues to speak in spanish to the driver and they pile back into the van and head towards the volcano. Conversation banters between the guide and driver in spanish. 

KYLE

Did anyone ask to see if the guide speaks english?

ZACH

I am sure he speaks a little.

KYLE

He hasn't said an english word yet.

 This is getting more interesting by the minute. 

CAMERA TURNS FROM CONVERSATION BETWEEN DRIVER AND GUIDE TO KYLE AND ZACH AND THEN FOCUSES ON MATT AS HE STARES OUT THE VAN'S WINDOW.

MATT

Domination... might have to wait a few days.

The van turns onto a dirt road and as the van makes a quick left the volcano stands alone with a bright blue sky. It's huge. The clock on the dashboard reads 3:43PM.

VICTOR

Oh, shit...

That's big. 

Victor turning from looking out the window reaches down for his water bottle. Grabbing it and then lifting it to his mouth to take a drink. He realizes his bottle is empty.

ZOOM IN ON BOTTLE AND VICTOR AS HE TURNS TO HIS VAN MATES HOLDING HIS WATER BOTTLE AS TO TELL EVERYONE THE ADVENTURE HAS BEGUN. CAMERA TURNS TO FOCUS ON THE BACK SEAT WHERE MATT AND ZACH SIT. THEY STARE AT THE BOTTLE AND THEN AT EACH OTHER. 

Kyle grabs his water bottle from his bag. He holds it and turns to the three others then to Victor. 

KYLE

Quick! Fill it up!

to be continued...