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chaos and consequences

12/21/2012

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Wednesday, April 4th, 2007


Are you sure that's him? the cop asked.
He was a real cowboy, this one.
Snakeskin boots.
Sure I’m sure
I’ll never forget that face.
It was true.
The stark, wide eyes of fear like amazement.
A bewildering sense of power and control within them
And the terror of wielding it
Chaos and consequences
cracking like thunder.
Just a squeeze away.



Scott carried the bank-drop in a brown paper bag
Cash and credit card receipts from the store
A mild December morning
The city yawned.
2 blocks to go.
Past the bagel shop
The subway
The newsstand
The bodega
The Church

Christmas trees lined the sidewalk
As we walked past we laughed about our boss
Whom we dubbed: the Grey Ghost
He was always materializing out of nowhere
When we least expected it.
And suddenly a man with a gun materialized
out of the Christmas trees.
We didn’t expect that either.
Bright eyes of fearful determination; afraid.

There was a pause as silence
rolled over us like a wave.

I remember thinking:
This isn’t really what it appears to be.

Give me the fucking bag.

The man waved the gun like a crucifix
In an arc
as if we were vampires.
First towards me then Bernardo.

My eyes locked on the weapon.
Vertical ridges
Blunt tip
Carbon blue
Criss-cross pattern on the handle
I tried to find a flaw, but it looked real.
Heavy with the weight of bullets.

Let go of the fucking bag.

Benny’s face was drawn tight.
I could see the seriousness of all of this in his flat gaze.
The spark of mortality glittered like a diamond
out of the blackness of his eyes
paralyzed in the moment of uncertainty.

The gun then settled on Scott.
Eye level.
Before it moved to his chest,
then found its way to the slight dimple
at the base of his throat.

The Gunman shouted for the third time.
We heard him 

but for us, time had stopped
there was nothing for us to do but float in the limbo of disbelief

Give me the fucking bag.

Scott didn’t care about the bag or the money in it.
We were all shocked into astonished immobility.
Fear clenches.
Both of Scott’s arms were locked tight around the bag.
My jaws, Bernardo’s small fists, Scott’s arms.
The gun moved again
Now just under Scott’s chin.
Beneath his close-clipped salt and pepper beard.
His head tilted back under the pressure.
Its movement seemed to say:
The gun is real. Feel how real it is?
Your life is the distance between this hollow barrel and a pointed copper tip.
It’s waiting in the chamber. 

At that moment I thought:
Scott is going to die today.
I saw the deep brown of Bernardo’s imploring eyes
Over the outstretched arm of the gunman
A flannel sleeve of brown and beige and cream.
Benny spoke softly and with a calmness that defied.

Scott. Give him the bag.

In a swift motion with his free hand, the gunman tore the bag away
out of Scott’s arms.
It took him three good pulls to free it.
The third pull ripped open the paper sack as it came loose.
Bundles of cash in rubber bands bounced on the sidewalk
The remainder of the bag and its contents were in the arms of the gunman
As he turned and fled down 79th street
A flap of brown paper waving loosely behind him as he ran.

Sound erupted around us
The world reeled us back into its noisy vortex
A passing taxi’s tires jarred a manhole cover
Pigeons fluttered up to the sky from the steps of the church
The squeal of breaks and the smell of diesel as a bus slowed
Car horns bleated in the distance down Broadway
Subway trains rocketed through the station below and shook the sidewalk under our feet.

Bernardo knelt to collect the bundles
Scott yelled something and then gestured for me to follow him.
Jesus. I thought.
We chased the thief.
There were two of them now: gunman and accomplice
Another had come out of the Christmas trees to slow us down.
But he had no gun. His empty hands waved to us not to follow. 
It made all the difference.

I heard Scott continue to yell something
But I could only make out bits of it.
...at least see what direction he’s...
I reluctantly followed.
The image of the gun was still fresh in my mind.
I was much faster than Scott
But I ran behind him anyway.

A red Lincoln screeched to a halt at the end of the block
Then raced away.
Scott was out of breath
He turned and we began running back to the store
This time I was ahead of him.

As we ran Scott repeated a set of numbers and letters
I scribbled them as best as I could
on my hand with a grease-pen from the front pocket of my deli-coat

Twenty minutes later we observed the red Lincoln
from the back of a police car
In a crowded intersection of flashing red lights from police cruisers
and unmarked cars pulled up on the curbs and sidewalks in disarray.

We identified the gunman.

Yes. That’s him. That’s the motherfucker.

Then on to the precinct in Washington Heights. 
Reports were typed and filed
by the cop with the slight drawl and snakeskin cowboy boots
You’
re lucky, he said.
...if you had been armed, or in this neighborhood, they would have just shot you and taken the money.

The cowboy could see our satisfaction
Glaring at the gunman in the cell
Head down
Ashamed and foiled.
I often wonder if he wished he had pulled the trigger
or was happy he had not.
It feels good when you get them doesn’t it? The cowboy said.
You know what?
It feels even better when you get them after they’ve fired a few rounds at you.


Back downtown, the store was busy with the Christmas rush.
There was much to be done
But I needed a moment.

I sat in the basement on a cardboard box of canned lima beans.
I flipped through the pages of my book
trying to make sense of it, to escape into the pages of Faulkner,
but I could not stop the cinema of scenes.

No matter.
It was going to be the best Christmas ever.


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Active Listening: Christmas Low

12/21/2012

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Thursday, December 21st, 2006
 
its been quiet on the active listening front lately… here are the lyrics to the best christmas song in recent years, the song ‘if you were born today’ by the minnesota band low.

 merry christmas!

 
if you were born todayif you were born today
we’d kill ya by age eight
never get the chance to say:

joy to the world and
peace on the earth
forgive them for they know not what they do

blessed are the meek and
blessed are the humble
blessed are the ninety and nine

deny the flesh
deny all that’s evil
tonight you’ll deny me thrice

if you were born today
we’d kill ya by age eight
never get the chance to say…

ooooo….

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Thanksgiving

12/21/2012

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Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006

another year of war. so here’s my thanksgiving post. the following lyrics were written by the mob. great british punk band of many years ago..

 NO DOVES FLY HERE

The sky is empty and it’s turning different shades of colour
It never did before and we never asked for war
My mind is empty and my body different shades of torture
It never was before and we never asked for war

No-one is moving and no doves fly here
No-one is thinking and no doves fly here
No-one remembers beyond all this fear
No doves fly here

No doves fly here
No doves fly here
No doves fly here
No doves fly here

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election day 2006

12/21/2012

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Tuesday, November 7th, 2006

so i was looking up my polling place info to make sure it hasn’t changed since last year. i found out brazoria county (where i live) is going to electronic voting machines this year (we had been using the chad system. yes. the chad system. seriously.) this really is going to make things a whole lot easier. i won’t have to go to oran roberts school and risk being ridiculed by elementary school kids to vote. i’ll be able to hack into the system from work. and not only that, since i know what is best for everyone i can vote for everyone. this will save manhours at offices all over the country. it will be a boon for the economy and the war will probably end. in the future nov 7th will be known as rich kimball day. richard bruce kimball junior highs will spring up all over the country. there will be a 51st star added to the american flag with a little digital image of me. the super bowl will be known as the rich kimball bowl. the rose bowl will be known as the rich kimball rose bowl. the los angeles angels of anaheim will change their name to the los angeles kimballs of anaheim. sean penn will star as me in a movie of my life. sean coombs will hold me in the same regard as he holds jesus christ and biggie smalls. dude, i may even get sainted for this.

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Active Listening: Samhain

12/21/2012

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Friday, October 27th, 2006
Its almost Halloween so today here are some spooky lyrics from Glenn Danzig’s incredible slow burn post-Misfits band Samhain.

 Archangel

Go
Heaven sends me here to you
And if a-you fear you’ve reason to
Open up all seven seals
The beast is come to claim the youth

Archangel
Archangel
Defiant brood
Defiant brood
I call on you

Casted down my bretheren
Rebels from authority
Power, pride, contempt and lust
All these things I give to you 

Archangel
Archangel
Defiant brood
Defiant brood
I call on youI am not your son of God
The prince of light will show no fear
Mine is that which rules this world
The beast is come, I am the end

Archangel
Archangel

And when they cast out the brood
For the sin of pride misused
And when they cast down to Hell
Fucking brood

Archangel
Archangel

Heaven sends me here to you
And if a-you fear you’ve reason to
Open up all seven seals
The beast is come to claim the youth

Archangel
Archangel
Archangel
Archangel
Go

Archangel

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