September Twenty-Nine

September 29, 2011. I rose from the bed at 8 o’ clock. I did not sleep in my house, so I had to hurry back to my block. I found my landlord eating the oranges his children always loved to pluck, and several bags of them were being loaded on a truck. They offered me but I didn’t take them for it was meant to mock. But who cares? Was I the type that gives a fuck?

I entered my room twenty-seven minutes after eight, I spat out of the window, I was full of hate. I had vowed to be rich by that day even if it required bribing Mother Nature with bait, but I was still as I was, I couldn’t accept the fate.

My girlfriend was calling. I ignored the phone ’cause my feelings were falling. My head was burning. In a terrific way my blood was running. It was a weary morning that I thought I would not survive and to heaven I would soon be journeying, but thankfully, soon to normal my system began returning.

I sat at my table with tears dancing across my face, and then I stood and began to pace. I saw then that we humans only love to nurse intentions and dream of inventions, when we fail we cry, forgetting that only God makes decisions. There were books on my table to read, I realized eventually that I had to open them if truly I want to lead. And their instructions I had to heed, even if I was hungry and wanted to feed.

No celebration but instead a condolence of the season. I wondered why such had to happen but I couldn’t guess a reason. Well, does it look like the suffering of the world anytime soon will be ceasing? Our rot engine, only God can see to its greasing.

You wonder what’s special about September 29? Oh, that proves that you’re following, fine. You’ve not crossed your line; let the explanation be mine. It was my birthday, but instead of being merry appeared a silent day. There was no music to play, except of course a song of Sossick that my phone could play. I wanted to have published a novel but it had appeared a white elephant dream to win a Nobel. I wanted to have directed a film but a thunder of money had scattered my team. I wanted to have travelled abroad but my connection had appeared a fraud.

I lifted my hand and eyed my pen; I saw I still had to gather cans of ink then. It may sound like the story of dogs trying to eat their own tails, but I believe, when men build lives with honest toil, courage never fails.

– Lord eBay (and his random ruminations, 2011)


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