Skip to main content
PBS logo

The Eclectic Pen - kill the devil

By: ericjasongastelum   + 52 more  
Date Submitted: 5/16/2008
Last Updated: 5/16/2008
Words: 519

  today was a smooth awkward. the lens above my cheek caught two odd looking people flirting in a store that should be giving clothes away. the sale rack was my calling, and nothing ever fits. too long in the arms just right for the rest of me. i see how women can get so discouraged buying cloth to decorate over skin. i think of how many families are working to get me these cloths, to present me with these fine soft feeling non-ironed messily scattered, yet fashionable clothes set before me. i think about who their bosses may be, and how he sits in an office, not caring about faulty machines or a cut on the hand. that boss sees figures and money signs, and employs managers and then smaller runts of the trade to tend to the needs of the flock.
they sew, he writes.
they walk, he drives.
they have generics for eats
he buys take out and always discards the fine leftover meat.
i was in the public state office earlier this month. my depth of field scale and focusing ring were not aligned and i had to use my sense. i rub my eyes and my visions came back, slow fading from a blur to 20/20. men and women being turned away for health care and i just wanted some answers to my tiny question. they filled out papers for hours it seemed, just to be turned away. i wished it was so easy as jumping to another country to be fixed. in america, you see, if you are broken it will take riches or debt to get fixed. i thought if i was in their situation, if i needed to be fixed or medicated, and did not have a sense about me for management of legal costly tender, how i would feel. i sit, and wonder, and think of all the money we waste under a lie. most controversial, but we follow. most blind, but it takes power and force and a way about you to ruin.
i think harder, and shut-my-ears-down to noise. i stare off a million miles away into the carpet. i think of: if things were different. i think of: if i wasn't so bitter. i think of: how it could be better to not think these things at all.
i don't know who to trust anymore. when all the billboards lead me to places that require money, i bruise my heel to run as fast and as violent as i can in the most appropriate opposite direction.
i think if this is entirely real, why does it feel exact and to the point like a nightmare? i think about, if every decision we make is set in stone and there is no way to change your mind, then why? lost at the end of my thoughts, falling down the chute as the rope i was holding disappears and the light becomes a tiny dot.
what are the two obstructions that we flow between? are these issues different for everyone, or did i catch myself in a wonderland where we are the abrasions of time and not anything else?

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by ericjasongastelum

Member Comments

Leave a comment about this story...

Comments 1 to 2 of 2
Eva L. (wearetrees) - 5/18/2008 10:16 PM ET
stirringly wraught...some great imagery and rhythm of space, a kind of sepia-toned glimpse into a day in the life, bones dense and vision blurred, fears concrete.
Elektra A. (poetryindespair) - 5/28/2008 5:04 AM ET
i liked the idea behind this. You think like i do:) With some revision this could be so, so awesome. ex, "the sale rack" should be "the sales rack." (I'm guessing keeping everything lower case was intentional, which is cool). Also paying attention to how you separate lines/sentances. Some areas ran together. But again, really cool thoughts.
Comments 1 to 2 of 2