by William J.
slowly up on Man.)
I read in
Camus what I already knew, that to be human is to
rebel. Say no, shout go to
hell when things dont go well. A
midlife crisis entices me.
use the f-word or other scent of adolescent
rebellion. I dont like crack or ice or
snuff or any such stuff. Whiskey is fine and
chablis refined but both would lead in the
amounts I need to alcoholism. A suicide bomb
would do more harm to myself than to anyone else.
My university degree does not let me be crass or
low class or a pain in the ass. So I must find
another way to scream, I rebel!
gives me scope, my only hope, to express my anger.
Less danger that way. It must be discrete, not
the stuff of the street, yet a strike at the
systems heart. Dont call attention to
yourself, my mother taught me, and hell to pay if
she caught me. So I follow her admonition and
rebel against my condition in a silent
affirmation of self-definition.
My act of
rebellion must paralyze the system, but I must
not be seen. So I will jam the copy machine.
slowly down on Man. Darkness.)