School where there is no death

Frank says: None of this makes sense to me. I was kept in a special school until I was twelve and at this school they made an effort to insulate us from the concept of death. If a hamster died, they took it away and said it was in the hospital. Plants were okay because they "came back" in the spring. We didn't eat meat, of course, that would have made us suspicious. Once a child got sick and "went to the hospital" and never came back. There were rumors of death, of course. And smuggled information, including a zombie film, Night of the Living Dead. That had us all confused and scared. The school closed; some of them were arrested. What do I think of death now? Hmm, let me think. I'll tell you when I get back from my run.

Janet says: Do I like sex? I don't really know. Sometimes. Do I like cock? Yes, sometimes. But really, men are monkeys, aren't they. Driven by their "things" to do things. It's sad really. Tragic. Yes, women should run the world, but really, how would we do? Look at Angela Merkel. She "overreacts" --what would you expect? When a man "overreacts" they just treat it like a bad decision; if a woman overreactes, it's supposed to be biological. That's men's projection: we're biologically driven, not them. Big joke.

Bob says: So what. Yeah, I have a wife and I "love" her. She's my buddy, the mother of my children and all that shit. So what if I like to fuck men, too? What the fuck. Monkeys do it, why can't we? Muslims do it. They're nuts for anal sex. And they put their women in carpets. What's with that? What are they fighting us for? Isn't this all a big joke. Someone said this, I think maybe John Wayne (?): God is War. No, I don't think John Wayne had the cojones to say that. That's why we fight. We pretend it's something good, when really we want to get away from the women and fuck around with our buddies. I'm not saying soldiers are gay, but they like to be around other men, that's all I'm saying.

Telling the truth (1)

People say they tell the truth, but I am afraid I have fallen into a hole dug by a French decomposing deconstructionista. I am afraid I am no longer believing in language. It's a frightening thing, only one step further and I no longer "know who I am" and if this were another century, another time, I would visit one of those locked wards, the kind they have in movies, where people dress in white and walk around like zombies and knock over each other's chess boards. But they don't have those any more; they not "covered". What is really scary about the "homeless" situation is that these places are gone. If you get to the end now you have to live in a cardboard box. Where do the "crazy" but high-functioning go? The Davids and Lisas of our time? The existentialists who merely want to dress in black and white poetry. Where can we go?