We had a very close relationship but for such a short time. It's hard to get to know someone when your pressed up against them for only a few minutes. Before you entered I enjoyed the privacy of my confined space. I was free to thrash around singing show tunes or pick the wedgies that been bothering me for 2 flights. The moment I hear that ding, you've already stolen my seclusion. My body stiffens to accept social decree of normality, just for you. And I don't even know you. I loose all sense of privacy that was so intimately mine before you showed up. You- short, curly, dark, brown hair. Height: 5'6"- 5'7". You are wearing jeans, a green blouse and a black jacket. I was admiring you before you noticed. It's a bit weird. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we really pretended each other weren’t there. It's an incredible opportunity to say something to you. I could have gotten your number. We made eye contact and I tried not to fall in love with you because I know just how long you'll be in my life; as long as it takes to get to the eighth floor. What if our ride broke down? How long would you wait to talk to me if you knew we would be together for several hours? We could have a nice, interesting conversation about politics and nationalities. Right now your telling me about your workout program. We are chatting up quite a storm between floors, without speaking anything. I wanted to talk to you, but I would have forgotten the few short phrases before we separated. I regretted not getting off, but I was supposed to go to room 207. I would have called.

This piece is a cut up. A few pages were randomly photocopied from the following books:
-Junky by William Burroughs
-Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut JR
-Hitler by Albert Marrin
-The Joke’s Over by Ralph Steadman (with letters from Hunter S. Thompson)

The passages were then cut apart and assembled by me. Anywhere there is a dash – is where one writer stops and another starts.


Don’t try to answer any of these questions because you can’t. You, like me have nothing to say, no right to explain and certainly no ability to understand. – I gave my son – 17 – yrs – for bravery, toughness,– and cruelty. – Anything he did was right. – His name was Gerhard – so it goes. -
Prisoners were often – shot – or – at least – fucked. – I know this is tragic but – in spite of the tirade, - in spite of the possible demise – I – kept him out of the – war. – This – war – of – injustice. – It wouldn’t stop until everybody in there was dead. – Yr own son shouldn’t want to smash windows?
Nature - (God love it) – was never like this, was it? – It was terrible at first, - the war parts anyway. – I have just about everything I want. – But things were much – less – massed. – A lot of people were being – outnumbered. – I don’t recognize anyone any more. -
Are we the first generation of parents to spawn a mutant tribe? – There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground. – Have we taught them tricks even we would rather forget? – Are the sinds of the fathers visited immediately on the sons, - my own son. – Sons might have to pull the pin of a grenade, balances it on their helmets, and stand at attention as it exploded. – But – we are not privy to that level of logic. – Everybody had to work so hard. – It – was – better –before. – So it goes. -
England is the wrong place for a boy who wants to smash windows. Because he’s right, of course. He should smash windows. Anybody growing up in England today without a serious urge to smash windows is probably too dumb to help. – What do windows cost? They were about $55 apiece when I used to smash them, even the big plate-glass-kind. But now they probably cost $300 apiece. Which is cheap, when you think on it. A wild boy with a good arm could smash about thirty big plate-glass windows a year and still cost you less than $10,000 per annum. Is that right? Are my figures correct? Yeah. They are. –
The winter of 1941 was hardest on the three million citizens. – Shells were bursting in the treetops with terrific bangs, showering down knives and needles and razorblades. Little lumps of lead in copper jackets were crisscrossing the woods under the shellbursts, zipping along much faster than sound. – If it was well-balanced, the explosion’s force went upward, without harming the men. – Troops – were immobilized for lack of junk. – There wasn’t – much shelter or food or clothing. -
See, the real thing that fascinates me is the reason, the actual, the real reason for trying to twist anything at all, to try to make it work. – Politicians were – twisting things. It’s about cranking things up in a way that it’s not like going somewhere and trying to factually report and say: ‘That’s what happened.’ It’s just making something happen in order to write, otherwise there’s – no sympathy. –
The town – honored the – national anthem – it makes no sense at all. – Is it because they don’t believe in anything anymore? – I ran into Louis as were lining up for the evening shot. – He was calculating the distances – between the – machine guns. – “As long as we live”, - he said, - “I rue the day – we – turned respectable. – It never occurred to him that, perhaps, - we await the outcome.