Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Yesterday, walking down the street I ran into a man I used to know. I remembered him from the hallways and haunmted corridors of the primary school I attended, hunched low with his satchel amongst gray-faced trouble makers and bubbly 1st graders. He never said "hello". He only nodded or mmumbled sometimes when bekoned to susbstitute for ex-nuns and devout catholic saviors schooling eager young minds. I'm not even sure if he was a regular instructer, or just a fill in for empty chairs warn in by over-eaters and under-acheivers. He existed only when someone else stepped out for coffee and cigarettes, toffee bars and Florida beach house pipe dreams. And yet, even in spite of that, down the halls he was softspoken, yet confident. He knew his purpose, excepted it and moved on. But yesterday, on the corner of Broadway and Clark north of ghetto devastation, south of suburban alienation, he was no longer that man. His confindence had dwindled into glass bottles in brown paper bags and 25 cent meals at the food pantry at night. He glanced at me briefly, and even if I was vaguely familiar to him, I didn't matter. All that mattered was railcars speeding fast too fast and dirty pennies in barren urban fields, sick with big boots and trampled dreams of saddened stars of track and field. He was hopeless mad forever.

we're all just guests on the moving sidewalk of life

well said judih... I couldn't agree more.

I must say the way your writing move and flows or just flows is very reminisent of keroauc I think. Like your style, it is not a ripp off so don't think I am saying tghat with the kerouac thing. I like the grit.

thanks, I take that as a HUGE compliment. I just try to write down what I see and make it work... I just leave it as it is and if it comes out great, then fine. I do follow Kerouac's principles closely, and the guidelines he set out for spontaneous prose. I think that's why it's so raw... because I lay it down as it was meant to be. Anyway, thanks for reading and commenting!
---K

izeveryboyin wrote:thanks, I take that as a HUGE compliment. I just try to write down what I see and make it work... I just leave it as it is and if it comes out great, then fine. I do follow Kerouac's principles closely, and the guidelines he set out for spontaneous prose. I think that's why it's so raw... because I lay it down as it was meant to be. Anyway, thanks for reading and commenting!
---K

You do it well. I would do the same but it would be completly un-readable. It work well with you, spontanuose prose.

good to hear. Thanks for that.
--K

kayla,
you continue to amaze me

this is a rich snapshot

He was hopeless mad forever.

He existed only when someone else stepped out for coffee and cigarettes, toffee bars and Florida beach house pipe dreams.

he was softspoken, yet confident. He knew his purpose, excepted it and moved on

it seems as if my purpose is to jam everything I read in Doreen's garden. LR is right this is an amazing piece.

jam
nuns of st leo's
little italy
baltimore
1948

how i dreaded to meet them
those black robes
like a witches habbit
..............................
."Man would rather have the void for a purpose then be void of purpose." or somethin like dat

LR... glad to have been amazing! In the words of screaming teenages... "Your rock, dude!" ST... so do you!!! Woohoo. Party Ooonnn!!!! (Claps hands, dances and cheers)
---K

oh.. and ST, you put my favorite lines in your replies.