Am I vanilla? White-bread. Bird shit. A boring old mundane redundancy that leaves you bitter like the salt of the earth? You know expensive sea-salt is a majority plastic. And chocolate is filled with ground-up bugs. That is what you are allergic if you break out from “coco”. OR am I Chocalate? Too tasty for my own good and will die too young in a decadent overindulgence that will leave me bursting at the seams, licking crumbs from my underserved mustache I’m so proud of. I value men on the length of their hair, but not on their ability to grow a beard. Any man with a beard is hiding something, I’m sure of it. I’m so glad that deep down, the root cause of my hiatus depression from the old pen, paper, and HTML resulted in its revival. It is the circle of life, Ms. Africa. I spent all day reading in bed to avoid my obligations because I was misinformed on who reached out to me. I thought it was a lead to a job opportunity but it was just my dreams calling. All day I think about just becoming a better sculpture of language, but I care so little about the business of it. I am afraid. I don’t think that a professor at Northwestern would ever rise to my occasion. Drug Dealing, cocaine, copyright infringement, defamation, it is all very juvenile. But I know that! I don’t think that one book entitles anybody to be a published author. Not anymore at least. I’m looking forward to number 10. If I’m alive by then. If I died trying my life would be a living sacrifice. I’d be best in Iowa, where the dumb-dumbs belong. I would rather write the truth and print one copy rather than sell 10,000 any day. It is meant to move someone through its honesty, not be butchered by the corporations to hide defamation. Fuck Mark Zuckerburg.
But to my sick heart that pulsed all day reading.
I read a quote that reminded me of a very, very recent love affair that is still prickling at my sides. “It isn’t so much the time that we have been away (which half of it has been terrible), I’m afraid that you hated the time that we spent together, with me breathing down your neck and berating you.”
I hope you never see this. I hope you have long forgotten about me so at least I deserve those lonely tears. I know forgiveness is the best revenge but please, hate me. It will make it much easier on me because – what you do best – will teach me. I knew long before I stopped growing (in my head) that God made me short so I would never be a bully. It is a lesson that has given back to me generously. Sure, there are times at parties when all I can think about how undesirable and ugly I am, but all of that is worth looking at people humanitarily. I don’t necessarily think all the Ivy Leaguers think they are better than me, but it would just be nice if people saw the beauty in me regardless of how many bullshit classes I sat through to look like I was something I so obviously am not, a savant.
Ben Bonkoske 