Stosh Machek

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“an excerpt:
…i pull on a t-shirt, baggy khaki pants & a
jacket, & my favorite hat …i hardly ever leave the
house w/out a hat & a jacket …i don’t wanna look
any worse than i have to
…coffee is in order if i’m to stay out of bed for
any length of time …besides, it gives me something
to do, & if i go out to get the coffee, it gives me
somewhere to go …outside it’s big & empty with the
usual jigsaw puzzle pieces of madness …hundreds of
cars racing in every direction, most w/only one person
in them …everyone w/somewhere to be, something to
get done, racing towards nothing

…humanity’s idiot scared-rabbit circle-jerk
…since it’s a beautiful day in a smog-smudged
so.cal. sort of way, i decide to have my coffee at the
little shop w/the tables out side …i will sit there
& read the paper & do the crossword & poison myself in
a slow & more or less socially acceptable manner
…the black smoke that farts out of the back of the
buses that run along the boulevard where the coffee
shop is located, is of course, poison …it settles
over me as i sit at a small plastic table …the
sugar i put in the coffee is a kind of processed,
bleached poison …the caffeine dangerously thins my
blood, lowering my body temperature & my immune
system’s resistance …the coffee beans were grown &
picked by exploited farm workers, so there’s my karma
infected & damaged rite there …both the styrofoam
cup that the coffee is in & the plastic stirrer i use
in it, melt microscopic amounts of petro-chemicals
into the hot coffee …the cumulative effect of which,
after decades of moderate to heavy exposure, leaves
humans susceptible to various degenerative diseases,
both known & not yet named …the ink from the
newspaper rubs off onto my hands, & i ingest it when i
lick my fingers after the hot coffee sloshes over the
side of the flimsy cup
…of course i don’t have to say anything about the
cigarettes, but i will say this; I smoke straights
because I think cigarettes w/filters are for people
who should probably just be chewing on ball point pens
…of course, i’m doomed
…it’s no wonder i can’t stand the taste of my own
tongue.”

Stoshmachek

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