One day Donnie B died.
I watched it.
On Youtube.
Over and Over again.
I was working long long
L O N G
hours in finance for
a Fortune 100 corporation.
Well,
It was Fortune 100 for the time being.
I was fresh out of college, and just assumed, that this is
what life was like.
And it wasn’t all bad.
In fact, it was pretty fucking wild and insane.
It was a charge living and working in a wild and financially
free community.
For some time.
Then,
I grew leery and
weary and tired.
I was watching people wither and die in my office, as I
listened to frantic anxiety laced diatribe kill people on the phone.
That also was crazy.
But it wasn’t fun.
Then I met Donnie B,
And every night I would come home,
And I would watch Donnie B die.
Over and Over again,
On
youtube.
Sometimes I would sit there in the dark of the room
Computer
Glowing
And watch Donnie die
And
then cry.
I felt for Donnie. He was a heroin addict. A junkie.
Living a life on a constant loop that he could not get off.
The same hustle daily:
Find
Dope
DO dope.
Only to wake up the next morning
And
get on the same hamster wheel again
To achieve the same result.
I never did H.
I wasn’t addicted to any drugs or alcohol for that matter.
I was on a different hamster wheel and a different loop.
But at the time I was just as helpless as Donnie.
But at the time I was just as helpless as Donnie.
So I coped by watching Donnie B die in black and white and
gritty grimy new york city cinéma vérité neorealism
over and over and over again.
I was unconscious of my hamster wheel but I felt it.
But I didn’t do anything about it, except watch Donnie B die again.
No comments:
Post a Comment