Thursday, January 30, 2014

§TA§O§ - Chapter 1 - THE BRAND IS FLY - Part 3/3

If I was going somewhere, chances are I WAS RUNNING

Through the darkness of Early-AM Monday with my backpack upon my back
Galloping like a Thoroughbred up the West Side Highway,
Steel-toed Dr. Martens pounding the asphalt road.

I didn’t do this every morn but when I did I made a special point to stomp.

Truth is I’m a Freight-Train, Mama,
Who got to Go-Go-Go like he oughta
Rock the Kasbah
Until da Rubber Soles
Won’ burn
No mo’...

I’m thinking NYC hasn’t seen the likes of a Sundance Kid like me
Since the dawn of the Macintosh CPU
Cuz let us be honest...

How many ragamuffins do you see these days that floss and brush their teeth every night
Before tucking in curbside to fall asleep skyward facing?
Promise I not so crazy – just eccentric and positively fighting for The View.


That’s what happens when you get caught up in the Fantasy of your own Hype -
You stomp an Icy Puddle with a boot that is long overdue for an appointment
With Doctor Cobbler and your wool sock gets all mucky 'N cold with frost.


If you’re tuning in today or tomorrow
And you catch me Checkin’/Reflectin’ on my Styley/§TA§O§
Just remember to note that this cat Rep 1

The Mojo rises of The Father,
The Lord,
The High and Almighty Creator
Who for some reason decided to take an [X] amount of
Energy and set it equal to MC Squared
@ a Space/Time Coordinate O Locomotion

Chugging and Choo-Choo-Choo-ing alongside Riverside Park
I look out on the lot of frozen ice that is the Hudson River,
Thinking that if my FREEDOM were across the way, over there in New Jersey,
I’d right now have to go tiptoeing ever so carefully
Just in order to have one part of the recipe for Discovery.

Steel-toes mowing along, I realize right then and there,
That for the first time,
I do believe my momentum has accumulated some Quantity/Quality of Inertia
That long gone are the days that I can sanely stand to be shackled or tied down
By anything that obstructs
My Vision and Direction.

What’s really on my mind is MONEY
My lack thereof,
And the fact that I’m just not wired to adequately perform
The functions demanded of a 9 – 5 job,
Whether that be a $100K/Year Corporate Mainstay
Or an $8.25/Hour robotic routine at a Ma and Pops Shop down the street.

Take special note -
This is not some spurious form of decision-making suddenly fancied.
My claim is supported by real data,
Gathered from a 7 + year scientific experiment
Subconsciously starring yours truly.

I’ve nearly reached the Pier when I hook a hard right turn
And roar towards three flights of concrete stairs I intend to swiftly fly up
As I think over my Résumé that explains just about everything -

Résumé -

Marie Callender’s: 2006 - 2007
Border’s Books and Music: 2007 - 2008
Allen’s New York Pizza: 2009 - 2010
P.F. Chang’s: 2010 - 2011
Cocina Del Charro: 2011 - 2012
La Costa Coffee Roasting: 2012 - 2013
Whole Foods Market, Bowery: 2013 - 2013


7 jobs in 8 years, and I’ve never been even so bad of an employee.
Each and every one of those jobs I ‘Retired From’ of my own volition;
I swear I get so bored its Incredible.

Up the stairs, I continue racing myself on with my Northward Heading.
Passing Trump Towers, I wave to the Russian Doorman who smiles and waves me back.
About once - and sometimes twice - a week, I sleep up there in those very Trump Towers
But that Tangent is another Story entirely
And seeing as we’re on the move I’ve got to keep a watch out
For those Icy Puddles.

Rounding the building’s corner from Riverside Drive to 72nd street
I’m now rushing East
And Full Throttle.

Now I’m warmed up.
Now I’m Rock ‘N Rolling.
Sky is still gray, but slowly beginning to light up
And Verily
The City is alive with Monday Morning.

People are bundled up like Snowmen, Snowwomen and Snowchildren.
Briefcases and Purses and Packs are swinging to the rhythm of their stride.
Cigarettes are going in ‘n outta lips.
Cabs are stopping in the middle of the streets.
Delivery Trucks are hauling past and fast.
Earth is shaking with the rumble of underground transit
As Train after Train barrels Uptown, Downtown, All Around
While I’m blitzing the blocks, raw with Passion.

I hook another hard right so sharp past Trader Joe’s
That the people watching
Probably talking right now on how I stole something Nice.

And while I’ve got all this activity surrounding me,
I’m as determined and focused as War Horse,
Galloping through No-Man’s Land,
Caught in the Barbed-Wire of all the mechanical exhaust
And fumes and smog and blah,
Latched and locked in my lungs and ripping each and every last one of my breaths apart...

Cough-Hock-and Spitting out a mouthful,
I rush past the Movie Theatre at Lincoln Center
And spot the Movie Poster for


The Spike Jonze Latest

Then remind myself that I must go and see it soon -
Which further reminds me -
I left something off my Résumé -


A Novel

Created 2005 - Present

I wheel about the corner at Central Park South,
Point up to Columbus -
Standing tall and centered at the Heart of his Circle -
And increase my pace about 3 knots to a sprint as I run down 8th Avenue
Against the tidal traffic of NYC in Full Swing and Session.

OS is my Life.
OS is my Love.
And if Man, Woman or any Conscious Creature could somehow know of their Purpose to Serve,
Then I would state with some amount of certainty that
OS is my Reason for Being,
The Creation beyond me,
A Gift to Enlighten the Mind, Heart and Will of One and All In Quest of Truth.

Crossing the Fruit Stand Finish Line with my arms raised like the Urban Olympian I am,
I slow my speed to a jog,
Huffing and puffing and watching the Sunshine beginning to break through the gray overcast.

'At last...'

I come to a stop at some apartment complex and drop my backpack on the steps.
I’m still catching my breath, about to start my stretch,
When a pedestrian stops in front of me,
An unlit cigarette,
Resting between her lips.

“You got a light?” she mumbles, as though only kinda sorta interested in starting her day.

I keep on inhale/exhaling something HEAVY as I put my hands on my hips,
Cock my head to the side,
Look her in the eye and wonder how there could even be any room for question.

Without word, I open my pack,
Reach in,
Spark and Light her Fire...

Without word, she turns her back and continues along as I stretch and sing:

“Don't you love her as she's walkin' out the door...”





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