why trust anyone under 30, they will all sell out by 30

why trust anyone under 30, they will all sell out by 30





Chapter 1-

The elevator didn't work for much of the week, and Luis was forced to deal with the thirty eight flights of stairs anywhere between two and six times a day. He was a round man and knew that this exercise was good for him. He didn't want people to see him sweat. He had no control over this.
His wife suggested taking a second shirt, which did the trick, up until the part of the morning when a co worker would suggest a cigarette break. Being in California the only place they were to smoke was the court yard, thirty eight flights below. By the time he was back at his desk, he was a visible sweaty mess. He found himself limiting cigarettes. He wanted to smoke out his window. It wouldn't open. The seams were painted.


Chapter 2-

"god damn it!" yelled louis, water just beginning to trickle down the bowl of the toilet and spill onto the office bathroom floor. Water and fragments of shit and toilet paper. How could it be his luck every time he used the office crapper that something went wrong. It wasn't even his shit, just his shitty life. Having nowhere to smoke on his floor and thirty some thirty eight odd flights of stairs to the nearest fresh air forced a man of louis's physical shape to use his intellect. unfortunately the mini-box 37th floor toilet was the stomping grounds of a different breed from louis, his game was eating, this guy, dropping ass. check mate.

Chapter 3-

And so he walked back to his desk disgusted by the humanity he was involved with. Everyone's defect was a neon sign over there head as he walked, cross office, passing their cubicles. Brad was gay and latin. Mary was fat in the thighs. Louise was fat, but she would be beautiful if slim. Tony was an asshole. Louise didn't respond to the few nods and hello he received in passing, he made it to his office and shut the door.
Sweating slightly he jumped onto the internet. He surfed the web and looked at what ever free porn he could before carefully going back through his hard drive to erase all evidence. He wished he'd get caught and fired. He'd move on. Get thin. Stop smoking. Be a better lover. Read more.
He hit F11 the key that hid the internet, revealing his computer desktop when there was a door knock. Through the half open venetian style blinds he could see the reps for the copy machine, of which Louie was in charge.
Pants suit lovely girl with her co worker. She had a long nose and cheap highlights, her beige suit made her ass look long. She had been here before. Louie dreamed of the day that she would do her route alone, not shadowed by the old guy who Louie had never liked.


Chapter 4-

Twenty minutes deep into a presentation about saving toner by utilizing the low quality feature of the office copier and louis was getting bored of tracing the curve of the reps ass as she wrote on the dry erase board.
twenty minutes aggravated by the porn, by the lingering shit smell louis was sure was clinging to his shoes, by the hard glare of pants suits pimp coworker, how it must kill this man to lose his commission, to be forced to share his contacts, his business that he worked so hard to build, lost to a semi-decent looking tart who didn't know the first thing about paper jams. Twenty minutes of theories, any minute now something was gonna happen. The phone rang, "excuse me" louis said, interrupting the presentation.
"shuuure!" said pants suit.
"where's the restroom?" said the pimp

"down the hall and to the left"
"hello?"
"no, James was moved to accounting...no... accounting..... yes... extension 912..... sure, yeah, no problem"

Alone with pant suit, louis thought of his wife, how as he left this morning saying goodbye, she was busy on the phone. He realized he was staring at the pants suit tart, who in turn was staring at louis's paper weight from his trip to the grand canyon last spring, a scorpion encased in a ball of resin with some sand and rocks and a piece of paper that said "Arizona"
He coughed, she looked up, their eyes met, she smiled condescendingly, smiled in a way that crushed all hope he was entertaining of ever seeing more than the outline of pant suits ass. Fuck this, he thought, fuck these silences, fuck this presentation.
"Fuck, that bathroom is a mess" the pimps exclaimed as he came in the room. "Someone jammed the toilet full of paper and cigarette butts."


Chapter 5-

It wasn't the first acount of the day, and it wasn't the last. Shelly liked this about the job, she didn't particularly care about copy machines but who really does? The job was steady and she had a car payment.
Marcy was getting on her nerves and calling her to try and rebuild a friendship that was severed. She silenced her calls, after she was being trained and Mark, driving her around, she couldn't answer anyway. But she'd keep calling.
To make things worse the elevator was broken and her and Mark had to carry up the large rolling suitcase of samples. She held the handle and he carried from below, but it seemed to her that she was taking most of the weight. He was a macho guy and talked a big game in the car, but when it came to carrying and physical labor, it was easy for her to see him letting a woman do most of the work. He would be with her for the rest of the week and next week. She couldn't wait to do her route alone.
All and all she had seventeen places to visit. They would pay her milage plus extra for wear and tear. She didn't want to drive to much but she had no choice. She loved her car. It was the first one she ever purchased on her own.


Chapter 6-

Shelly thought about her new car as she diagrammed the merits of various paper weights to Louis. "what are you using in the main machine right now?" she asked.... silence.
"umm..." he didn't seem to be listening. She got nervous. Looked to Mark for some kind of help, not that he would do anything. But sometimes he would talk during the presentations and get so into it that it actually worked, people paid attention to Mark when he spoke.

Mark loved copy machines, plain and simple, actually, he didn't know if he really cared or not. He made sure he devoted most of his time to thinking about copy machines cause he had nothing. If he didn't think about copy machines his tenuous grasp of what he thought could be a life would fade away. He would be back in rehab, back to weighing 105lbs and sucking dick or stealing. Well not really, drugs scared Mark, he rarely even drank these days, but he like to make people think he had some kind of history, a reason for his rough talk and bad attitude. But if he didnt have copy machines he definitly would have tried harder to get a job with his communications degree that was actually a college level position, instead he settled into the first job tha came along after graduation, ten years ago. He had more than enough reasons to be happy about his promotion, hell, he hadn't had such a turn of luck in his life since his wife left him. So why was he all of a sudden so out of touch with everything? why was he so agitated about the restroom being clogged?
"Look at this asshole.." he thought as he glared at Louis, fucker never listened so intently to my goddamned presentations, and I fucking knew my shit, I saved his ass on that cannon buy, he never even realized. "fat fucker's probably the reason this whole office smells like goddamned shit and cigarettes." Mark had been in a shitty mood all day, it started when he had to ride with Shelly and she put on some talk radio station as they drove, she refused to even make small talk as they sat in traffic for forty five minutes, choosing instead to blast anything to drown out the possibility of having to talk. She wouldn't even use her air conditioner. Christ, it was a new car, what's the point if you don't use it? Mark thought about sex with all the different passengers of the cars they passed. Topping things off the elevator was broken, well it's her rout now, he sure as fuck wasn't gonna be hauling the samples up to fat fucks office. Shelly Glanced at Mark, seemed concerned, he looked a Louis, who was staring intently at Shelly's ass and whistling though his nose as he breathed. The presentation didn't seems to be going anywhere and it was approaching one. Mark thought about what he would eat for lunch. He had packed a sandwich but didn't feel like eating it. Shelly only ate Quizno's.



Chapter 7-

He looked out his window and saw them crossing the plaza his company co sponsored. They walked past the fountain and into the parking garage. The man made the woman pull the demo equipment. She was new. It wasn't Louis' place to judge.
What truly urked him was that they headed into the parking garage. Louis and his entire department were unable to use the twelve story lot for the last two months as floors four and five were being renovated. They had to find street parking. This caused Louis to get six tickets.
On this day he had found parking far in a residential street. His bumper was four inches into the driveway of a house. He heard this could get your car towed, but was late, and tired of looking. Goddamb them he thought. How could he be on time if the parking was not certain. He knew his car would have been in the sun. He knew it would be hot.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead as the copy people disappeared into the structure. They parked low in visitor parking. They had a space in the shade.



Chapter 8-

quietly walking own the stairs, Louise heard the door above him open. Louis did'nt want the door to open, if the door opened, someone else was going to lunch too, with mean they would try to tag along with him, he didnt understand why people would even want to go eat with their co-workers, the joy of lunch was to be away from that kind of crap.
"Louis!..." he heard above him, he pretended not to notice. being twelve flights of stars away, it was difficult to tell what was being said. "LOUIS!", a fighter, this one. He was forced to acknowledge, he slowly turned, looked up, saw the kid from the mailroom.
"Louis, you getting some lunch?"
"yeah"
"hold on!"
damn, now he had to take some kid to lunch, and the kid had the gall to make him wait on top of that. To save his space and avoid the walk to the car Louis usually just ate at the hot dog cart on the ground floor. Such an action was considered nearly offensive by Louis's co -workers who preferred to eat in some shit fast food place under the guise of a deliciouse, quick and light meal. the kid from the copy room would not want to eat a hot dog.



Chapter 9-

A gun. Louise waited for his hot dog and thought about a gun. A pistol. He would tuck it behind him and take it out, shoot people who bothered him or didn't. It was hot, and that's why he thought this way. The kid was talking, about a convention in Vegas that he and friends went to. Something funny they saw. The hotel. The Casino. Louise wished that the kid would just stop talking.
Louise nodded and smiled. "Vegas is alot of fun?"
"What do you play?" The kid asked.
"Nothing really. I don't know, I used to do black jack, but now I'm married."
"Oh shit, I didn't know you were married."
Louise held his hand up, the one with the ring. He hoped the shine would irritate the kids eye, but the metal wasn't shinny enough, and so he just put his hand down. The effort made him sweat more. He made sure to drop some chilli on his shirt.
"Now I have to change my shirt." he said with little emotion.
"you bring an extra shirt, I should start doing that," the kid said as he walked with Louise back to the office building.

learning to not play a role

they were a generation that learned how to rebel.
we were a generation,
that was taught how to rebel,
and how not to.

philosohy#2

when walking, and approaching a stoplight, push button at base of stoplight and proceed only when white "walk"sign" blinks. if other parties are already waiting at stoplight
it is safe to assume that the button has already been pushed.

philosohy#1

maybe people eat shitty food cuz shitty food has everything,
everything is more bad than good
but the good in everything is surrounded, and marbled with the bad
its rich and good for you and every living thing is made like that
so hey
take a whole animal
grind it up and everything evens out
good and bad
maybe.

the cat, ate a bird
but left the head

i threw it in the bushes
last time she ate it
this time i came home
and its eye
was looking at me
i dont get it
i feed her
but i guess she got the soul of a killa
she needs the fresh blood


im trying to teach her abou thow good apples are
she shies away from apple like dracula from a crucifix

the move

you move, and that pace sustains you



you breathe, I dunno, It follows you.
Its hard to say
what makes me love you this way.

it would be nice to never stop moving.

well, actually I dont

I think...
I think
I may have it all figured out.
O think I, may have it done and figured.
But I think
also
that it dont matter whats out and whats in,
and I wish that I might know you again.

a gasp

the gasp
was all I could really
muster

hiding my head
caught up in a song, only I heard...
fingers too weak to touch.
and a life
completely shattered.

many times
and for many reasons
the many wandering voices
took up, made time
and rang out in my ears, my hands, my eyes.


i thought if I could speak so clear
my words would matter.