a journal like entry. i think things are on the keel back around.
my friend spun his conspiracy theory of the dead king of po.p not the king of rock or prince, but the first man to do the spacewalk on the planet earth. we share the bike ride home after slinging porn all night. after taking hits from the one hitter that was meant to double as a key chain he departed this theory to me. we shared our feelings about it. it was the only celebrity death that had affected either of us. not at first, b/c it was too surreal at the moment i read it on, yes, a social networking site. it was when i heard a jackson 5 song in the 7 11 the next day that i realized and recollected the totally fucked life that micheal jackson lead.
so clint’s theory is that at some point in the 70’s joe jackson cut michael’s balls off. that was why he had the voice from that age on. it was the reason why he was so small as compared to his brothers, who were big and huge, and as clint described it “michael’s tiny ass nipples”. he is sharing this information at stop lights that later we stopped stopping for. clint said fuck it and we just went. micheal jackson, he related at an intersection, “was asked by opera if he was a virgin, to which michael replied (and i am sure clint was paraphrasing in a falsetto mj voice, not to mock, but just to illustrate) ‘that’s embarassing, why would you ask me that? i’m a gentleman’”. It also explained that Michael was not a child molester but rather A-sexual because he had his balls cut off. He didn’t want the kids he just wanted to be one. The most fucked up thing, was that he was then cursed and blessed to be one of the best performers we human beings could offer to the Heavens. It was not entirely out of the question; it could actually make sense. I wasn’t sure, but I enjoyed the pre rain cooled breeze on my upper arms as we biked, running through lights because we just wouldn’t stop.
When we made it to South Street things were intense. It was mobbed with saturday night trash. Yes, the kind of trash that thinks stop lights don’t apply. Just because the cars can’t move it doesn’t mean that I can’t. FUCKERS. Clint actually forced us through and for that I am in his debt. We parted ways and I was on my own with my thoughts. I was coming to a particular clearness, through several epiphanies i was having about the people in my life and my life right now. What they mean to me, as I know and I can feel a transitional change. It may take a long time but i am getting closer and closer every day. As i was getting more thrilled i continued to speed faster and on the slick rain drizzled road there were two others going just as fast. I braked and they did not. My knee catches the pavement while the bike slides out from under me, ruining my socks. I got up and glared at the dorks with the helmets, even though inside all i could do was laugh and think about the world as a funny fucked up place, and whether or not michael jackson had balls.
