I WANT YOU TO WANT ME SO I CAN FEEL BETTER ABOUT NOT WANTING MYSELF

Sitting in the car at Vermont & Sunset.

A very tall, very homosexual man approaches.

He bends over, hands on hips, and begins talking.

I have no idea who he is.

He looks clean.

Slightly stupid.

A possible employee of the month at a bowling alley.

I ignore him at first

But he's acting as if it's casual for sound waves to operate differently than they do.

And I stare at the face conversing with the glass between us.

Completely sure I have had no previous association with this person.

His words like oreo crumbs in the mouth of a child.

I roll the car window half-open.

"Uh... yeah?"

"Roses cheezits!"

I feel confusion.

"What?"

"Roses cheezits?"

Am I hallucinating or something...

My hands are normal size.

My feet exist.

There is no background music.

"Haha, what?"

"You-uh know, I-uh know youuuu."

I realize he's speaking with an accent.

One which sounds like a hybrid of italian/spanish/excited cockatoo.

Slowly, I shake my head "no."

"Aren't you-uh th' cheezus from-uh youtube dot commm?"

"No, that's not me."

The man places both hands near his jawline and moves them in small circles.

"The beaarrd-uh, a person, it fool."

For a brief moment I question if I am the jesus of youtube dot com and imagine myself walking the streets of hollywood dressed in a linen robe, kissing babies, waving a hand over menstruating vaginas, smoking blunts which never burn out.

"I'm not him."

The man makes a facial gesture like he was never there, as if the conversation hadn't just happened.

"I mistake-uh."

Then he walked away.

Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger.