Saturday, November 05, 2005

I hold up the old, broken down album cover. It hasn't been played in years. Black Flag: My War. What could say more about my feelings right now? And who better to speak these feelings of anger, loss, betrayal and impending doom than the spitter of angst himself, Mr. Henry Rollins. I often picture myself up there on stage, shirtless, tattoos gleaming with sweat, muscles bulging from the grip I have on that microphone. A grip so tight that my fingers ache from the tension, the tendons and ligaments in my hand and forearm well pronounced from the strain of the grip, pulsating with my heartbeat. Throbbing. My hair dripping wet from the heat of the lights that pound down on me, dripping salty drops of water into my eyes, burning and causing them to turn a fiery red. My voice, hoarse from screaming my words into the mic, the agent used to transport my inner thoughts and feelings to those willing, and unwilling, to shut the fuck up and listen. Bent over at the waist, hair hanging wet and limp in my face, eyes closed, screaming the truth into the mic (into the ether!!) for the world to hear.

The crowd surges forward, absorbing everything I teach them, pounding on the stage with their fists, oscillating wildly amongst themselves, knocking each other over, pushing, screaming, LEARNING. Fights break out.....they're really geared up now! I straighten up, thrusting my fist into the air, now simply screaming! The crowd losses their collective minds, the words have finally sunk in! They break through the doors to the auditorium and rush into the night, repeating my words over and over again. As they spread through the city, through the WORLD they ignite a revolution. An uprising of the people. The people who have finally had...enough. They stand up and demand answers, demand accountability, demand THEIR COUNTRY BACK!!!!!! The elderly rise from their wheelchair's, shit... these men and women fought the greatest war this world has ever seen, do you think they'd miss a chance to fight the next one?? Mothers and fathers rush from their homes into the streets, gathering in crowds, TALKING. Schoolaged children drop their books and stream through the doors like the last day of school. Cheering wildly, papers flying everywhere, books discarded into the grass. Workers leave their posts and stream into the streets. Now they have a REAL job to do! There are people everywhere, the streets are simply a mass of humanity. 300 million (minus the 37% who will support this admini$tration even if they gang raped their children. But FUCK THOSE PEOPLE...we don't need them. WE HAVE THE MANDATE HERE!) people....AMERICANS....into the streets!! Demanding change, demanding a new government for this is OUR government, this is OUR country you sonsofbitches!!!! This is NOT YOUR country, YOUR government and YOUR military! And this is CERTAINLY NOT YOUR money to do with as YOU see fit! You were put here to represent US and REPRESENT.. US.. YOU.. WILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then I woke up. DAMN!