A little excerpt by a very obscure author [excerpt]

I wanted to share this little bit from a story someone near and dear to me wrote about 3 months ago:

14th Street

Electric sentries hold their small orange-bright domains open for the clean masses to pass through on their way to forget their sorrows.  Green dresses flutter by worn by blondes, all so sure they are the only ones to look that particular way tonight.  I am relieved to find that despite the repetition, each person manages to carry herself with autoamory, eking out a smile for her clones.

No one looks at me.  They look through me, seeing a plaid shirt, a pint of mediocre beer, and the tired insecurity of a person whose thoughts are constantly elsewhere.  I smile.  I lie.  The sentries stand tall in amused silence, never judging but providing no support for shaky hands and sweaty brow.  This is my fight, my life.  Not a one will malfunction tonight, not a one will hand me the opportunity I need to escape in embarrassed darkness into the quiet street, cloaking myself in the smoke of past suffering and current pain.

There is no room for introspection here, only big blue eyes, half-revealed breasts in the streetlights, and the cheesy excuses made in order to utter words to bodies made uncomfortable by the language of my smile and face.  There is no success tonight.  No nakedness and heavy breathing barely audible beneath iPod soundtracks.  No new friends who wish only for closeness and whose desire is masked by morals and fear.  Tonight, there is only the discovery that I can be heard over the thousands of angry bees and the constant drone of bass, and of love for all people, no matter how small, dishonest, or beautiful.  Tonight is a time for exploring the dark, dusty corridors of personhood, the entryway to humanity, the gateway drug of health.


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A blog about social change, written from Brooklyn, New York. Currently looking for contributors.