He abstained from purging any such thought, rather, spewing some unintelligible grumble posing as an introduction. All this amplified, he thought to himself - becoming even more frightened as he passed the microphone to some faceless patron to his left: a man of about 50, whose fingernails were encrusted with soot – a laughably typical trait of a crack user. Dylan only elevated his neck so much, intent on staring down his feet. It was likely that some trendy, too articulate junkie was glaring at the back of his head – likely a she – SHE, feeling humiliated for having to squirm thru his very unwise attempt at generosity, therefore, invalidating him immediately. Something he practiced daily, for the sake of moral alignment. Of course, this was another delusion of Dylan’s -lifting his eyes just so much more, the room’s space could be seen: a small area where the AA meetings are held. Relief set in slightly – not a clever looking one on the bunch.
Although Dylan is no longer teenage, these persistent trivialities seem to emanate from that cesspool containing all teenage preoccupation -where experience is traversed, but never examined, so they say . . . Eventually we outgrow every single wasted thought for the sake of survival – nature smoothes out the so-called strains and creaks plaguing us. Confidence ensues – leaving us satisfied, erect, and much duller than we could’ve hoped for. But do not take my word for it. I function on a partial operating system of sorts. In the back of the head- where that nagging insecurity that may, one day perhaps, become a fully realized moment of wisdom- when ones’ limitations are calculated, with limited returns - and you’re left with a distressful, vivid illustration of all you’re capable of- much like a “best of” reel in your head, highlighting every instant when a sensible route could have been taken, for every principled reason you can imagine - but wasn’t. You’re damaged goods, friend.
Dylan believes himself to be on a higher plain of thought. If a sentient chorus existed in all of us, things would be much different for poor Dylan. The truth is he will never blossom into any sort of scholar of any kind – no witticisms will ever be on hand for those foreseeable opportunities where one’s academic prowess can be flexed during an elated moment of social glee. Dylan will remain miserable, until misery’s been sucked dry.
10 minutes before the meeting’s end. As it goes, the group involved “close-out” their gathering by holding hands while attempting to speak to God, headfirst, in unison, no less. Always excruciating, yet Dylan manages to remain calm. On second thought, he has just jumped to his feet as the crowd moves into a circle, once closed, there is nothing left to do but make a dash for the door. He awkwardly stumbles though those standing near the exit, colliding with strangers as if in some sort of degenerate asteroid field – all before they can grapple him into submission. Any person could easily read the panic written on his face as he springs for the doorknob, but there’s no time for modesty. He steps into the Miami sun. Pauses momentarily to catch up to himself - take a breath. Thoughtless, silent, comfort.
10. Iron Man
9. Tell No One
8. Wanted
7. Wendy and Lucy
6. Happy-Go-Lucky
5. Changeling
4. The Wrestler
3. I've Loved You So Long
2. Twilight
1. Funny Games
