SelectionIll
Bluelighter
a student of mine approached me, asked me what my views on post-life were. seems that through my lesson plan, this little nazi scraped together the thin idea that i was anti christianity. now, normaly, this wouldn't concern me at all, but, with the present climate of dissention being frozen to near inactivity, i went immediatly on the defensive, baring my teeth and letting out a slow whine of noxious gas to disoriente the boy.
"well, how do you know your not dead right now?"
there.
philosophy. easy out, yes?
"because i am breathing' he takes a deep, dramatic breath 'because i am standing here, smelling your cigarette breath."
oh. so this is the direction of the grain, then.
"do you wish to debate semantics, boy?" he was probably in his early 20's, no more than 5 years younger than me. i watched as the front of his gray pants went black from release of his bladder. his muscles tightened and rippled under his american eagle vintage printed T, and i braced myself against the large oak desk i keep in the hall just for such occasions.
"semantics! how are the very root examples of existence simple semantics?"
"Quite simple, my boy,' oooh 'in your dreams, do you ever smell the smoke that creeps up from cracks in the roof of hell? do you ever take a sharp breath just before an impact, concrete, airplane, etc...can't you smell the acrid oil paint stench of heroin cooking in the spoon years after you've kicked. does this prove to you the experience, or the perception?"
"what in the hell...?"
"you need to shut up now, boy." i left him standing in the large empty hall, after i rifled his pockets for money and cigarettes.
seemore
"well, how do you know your not dead right now?"
there.
philosophy. easy out, yes?
"because i am breathing' he takes a deep, dramatic breath 'because i am standing here, smelling your cigarette breath."
oh. so this is the direction of the grain, then.
"do you wish to debate semantics, boy?" he was probably in his early 20's, no more than 5 years younger than me. i watched as the front of his gray pants went black from release of his bladder. his muscles tightened and rippled under his american eagle vintage printed T, and i braced myself against the large oak desk i keep in the hall just for such occasions.
"semantics! how are the very root examples of existence simple semantics?"
"Quite simple, my boy,' oooh 'in your dreams, do you ever smell the smoke that creeps up from cracks in the roof of hell? do you ever take a sharp breath just before an impact, concrete, airplane, etc...can't you smell the acrid oil paint stench of heroin cooking in the spoon years after you've kicked. does this prove to you the experience, or the perception?"
"what in the hell...?"
"you need to shut up now, boy." i left him standing in the large empty hall, after i rifled his pockets for money and cigarettes.
seemore
