It was noon and I heard the church bell ring off in the distance. Like any other person my age I immediately began to hum the opening guitar riff of Hells Bells by AC/DC. The problem is that when it came time for the 2nd bell to chime in time with the song the bell did not chime. Instead the guitar note hung in my head for a full 2 seconds before the 2nd bell tolled. Do not ask for whom the bells tolls for it clearly does not toll for AC/DC.
I was passing people in the street and I have no doubt that my face gave them the impression I was lost in some deep thought or important decision when in fact all I was thinking was how annoying it is that all the bells in the country do not chime in time with Hells Bells. How can that be that there isn’t a law governing church bells? Allowed to just toll any old time they want.
I walked on and I’m sure those people passing me assumed I was engaged in some philosophical battle or political debate with far-reaching consequences when in reality I was wondering if I would have to become President to get a law passed making it mandatory that bells chimed in time with Hells Bells or if I could simply become a Senator on some powerful Ways and Means committee to get it done.
It had to be noon as well. I had to endure all 12 bells. Each one completely out of sync with the song. Every time I would somehow get back in the groove I would end up waiting on the bell. I’ve heard people, when disgusted by something they were witnessing, say something like “there ought to be a law”. That’s how I felt as I could not get my rock on. Every time my head would start to bob and my hands assume the sign of the ‘devil is hunting’ horns there would invariably come the pause that would ruin everything. 12 times.
I’ve always been a sci-fi horror genre geek. My favorite subject matter has always been zombies. Zombieland should have won 10 Oscars in my opinion. Maybe the best movie ever made in 2009. The clear-cut good vs. evil decision-making that zombies allow is refreshing in these confusing grey times.
I wonder if the people passing me in the street see the impotent rage behind my eyes. I wonder if they even suspect. I read about animals that gang-rape that little girls and I get dizzy. They are as different from me as the zombies are. They are no more human than a corpse that hauls itself out of the grave and shambles down the street. They are, in fact, far more deserving of a clean shot in the head with a powerful handgun than any undead could ever be.
But we don’t shoot them. We allow them to live among us even though we know who they are. What they are.
I’m not sure when the infestation started but it is creeping through our culture now and we sit idly by. They rape and murder and steal and yet nobody picks up a rifle and dispatches this filth like we would if only they were rotting and had the decency to just be dead already. They are no different than the mindless zombies, we just have to pretend that these demons are somehow entitled to the rights and freedoms that we hide behind. We are cowards. We know they are coming. We lock the doors at night and hope that we don’t see their shadows fall across our windows. We hope they leave us alone. We read about a young woman being violated for 2 hours on a park bench by a pack of soulless ghouls with two dozen witnesses and we shudder and turn the page. If we can’t get angry then at least muster some tears before we become as heartless and dead as they are. It’s the least a human can do.
So I walk down the street and my eyes dart back and forth looking for one of these ‘zombies’. It’s time to stop being afraid of the dark and what lurks within it. If one of these monsters makes eye contact me I’ll know. And they will know I know.
It’s time to take out the trash.
There are moments that stick with you. Moments that you feel were made for you. You just happened to be in the right spot at the right time and you bask in it.
Manhattan is one of the most densely populated cities in the world with a population of over 1.6 million people. All wedged in less than 23 square miles. And here I was walking through the middle of it all alone. It was approaching 5 am and all I could think was “are you telling me nobody is up right now?” There was a low hum about the streets that probably came from the streetlights but seemed more to come from everything else. Like how you can tell if wire is live or not. A buzzing. A ringing in my ears. “Nobody is one the streets right now?” The sky was hinting at a sunrise but as I made my way down the empty streets it seemed content to stay black just a little longer for me. It was like the whole thing was for me. The buildings seemed so much clearer than they do in the day.
Eventually I neared the Holland Tunnel and started to see cars lined up. Suddenly I felt so superior. These people were getting an early start on their day while I was still enjoying my night. As I walked by, only a few feet from the bumper-to-bumper cars, I felt like I was 5 time zones away from these wretched men and women who were already ass-deep in my tomorrow.
Those moments alone in a city that never sleeps made me feel like that, for that small sliver of time, the city didn’t sleep because I didn’t sleep. Everyone else had left it to me. It was a playground. I was a ghost and it was my canvas.
It had made me a hipster in a way it could never take back.
I need a toothbrush. I’m actually pretty happy about it because I never liked my last one. I can’t wait to throw it away. I should have chucked it right away but I hate to waste money so I endured it not making my teeth feel especially clean after brushing but now I can, with a clear financial conscience, go out and buy a new one.
I know the kind I like and I’ll never be seduced away from it again by the sleek look of a new brush or the hollow claims of the company that produces it.
The pharmacy is only a block away.
I think I’ll get a red one this time. I’ve never owned a red toothbrush.