Reading another short story by Raymond Carver. It’s funny. It’s about some fat man in a restaurant who keeps on eating, and then he goes home. A lot of fat in there. A lot of fat. And a lot of eating. I laugh and look out of the window. The weather is good. The winds aren’t hot. The sky is clouded. I think it will rain in two days. On television, some Korean movie. They all look alike in the film. HA HA HA. In the climax, the hero ends up in a hospital bed and is shot dead. The heroine cries and runs away with the criminals. Nobody is wearing a mask. Credits follow. Mother enters through the door, remembers god twice, and then leaves through the same door. What craziness.
I was thinking about something. Never mind. Afternoon blowing away quietly. I hardly slept. I was thinking about something. My head hurts now when I try to remember what it was. I feel disgusted. I am staring at this, and now I am staring at that. Afternoons are dead. Afternoons shouldn’t exist. I would like to hop from one evening directly to the next evening. I do not need mornings either. Evening night evening night – that’s all I need. The clock keeps ticking. What can be more absurd than a clock that shows us what doesn’t exist. Time doesn’t exist. It’s just that we are trapped here in these shells we call bodies. Sometimes the shell dies slowly. So we need something to measure how long that shell will live. We created words like year, month, so that we do not lose our minds due to lack of understanding of the truth. The truth is always something else. We hardly pay attention to it. We are interested in the illusions of life. We like to be eaten up by them.
On the road down somewhere, the ambulance sirens are blaring. We keep ignoring the truth. We think that the truth will never hit us. We think that what we feel or know is the truth. It takes less than a minute for all the illusions of life to break away. Less that a minute.
I scratch the back of my head. If they know me, they will only hate me more. It’s better they do not know me and it’s even better they do not know my thoughts. They just won’t get it. They won’t get anything about me. They would go on with their lives like I never existed. I know they would go on like that. They won’t go on in any other way. Another movie on television. This one is a stupid one. The hero is a CIA operative gone nuts, and he has killed many, as usual. He likes to ride on his donkey in the evening. Yeah. Very funny. The villain is another CIA operative, an old man without teeth and bones. He is a real son of a bitch and he says he will kill everybody who gets in his way. Nobody gets in his way and so this son of a bitch is going to live on forever. Good. Good. The heroine dies in the first fifteen minutes. Good for her. She saved her time and energy by not acting throughout this stupid movie. I hope she was well compensated for the early death.
Made myself a large cup of black bitter goddamn coffee. Went for a little walk. Watched the unpainted buildings, the green grass, the security guards guarding those buildings, and came back home. Life as we saw on the streets and on the roads is not coming back any time soon. Another movie. This one has got cars. Pretty cars. Yeah, that’s better than CIA bullshit. I will watch this one until I fall dead.
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Tomic Riter 