Rage contre la machine:

 I see you eyeing me. Natalie. ;-*

Dm.A.A.

pétrole et aliens:

Dm.A.A.

Capitalism: a Definition.

All that capitalism is is the failure of communism. Wherever communism fails, communists try again, blaming not themselves but rather capitalists. Such is only appropriate, for it is not through the strength of communists but rather through the weakness of capitalists that every attempt has failed up to this day. Capitalism is the weakness; communism is the strength. Communism is the attempt; capitalism is the failure. All failed attempt at creating Utopia have been the results of greed, bullying, and ignorance. All attempts to create a true Society, wherein civilization reaches godliness, wherein no being is made to serve the purposes of an other, and wherein all are included without respect to a coercive institution – those are the project of the Communist, who must always clean up the mess left by those who are deviant from this most rational and essential of Ideals. This alone sums up Communism: that it is a way of life that works FOR ALL. NOT for the many, NOT at the expense of the FEW, and if it is ever at the expense of the MANY then it is only of the utmost ULTIMATE benefit to ALL. No higher goal can be conceived on Earth for Man, and so one must have no other drive but towards this Goal. All failures must be met with perseverance, and one can never afford to blame the project itself for its failures, for only the weaknesses of lesser people (people who would be in debt to the MERCY of Communism, but who are instead enthroned in their own LACK of it!!) can be conceived of as the cause. Their victory shall always be a fleeting one, for time and time again Nature Itself demands that the fight resume. The World must be made Clean. There can be no excuse. No one can dismiss prophecy under suspicion of false prophecy; ignorance is never justified by either fear or cynicism. Communism does not fail. Capitalism fails. Capitalism IS Human Failure, incarnate. And the creaking of its hinges can be heard like a piercing mosquito’s sopranino tone at every level of the haphazard structure that it has created for itself.

Dm.A.A.

Letter to an Unknown E-mail:

For the record: if you do not know me, disregard. If you DO, know that I guessed the last few letters of my own accord. I had the opportunity to access your entire public record online. The Age of Privacy is over. So be it. I retain the fortitude to resist temptation. I am no Faust; I do not require knowledge to feel secure, only Imagination.

In this day and age, it is ironical that people ask for numbers when all that information is available, for sale at the price of a Body Shot. Yet it is a testament to our integrity that we do things the old-fashioned way. When we look people up online and find (to our shock!) that they are convicted stalkers, we forget that we had to stalk them to acquire that information. Technology makes hypocrites of us all.

Its saving grace is that if everyone is a stalker, no one is. At any rate: specific details are preferred to superstitions and nebulous generalizations. For better or for worse, I had to use this set of media to their full extent, drawing the line only at what I could handle knowing as impersonal data. To have left the computer untouched in this respect would have been to accrue the blame due to a Luddite Cave-Dweller who had the power all ways at his fingertips to act with influence. And there is no point dwelling in nostalgia for a time when this was unnecessary. The world moves on, as people become less available in person. As much as it pained me in its Absurdity, I had an obligation to adapt, to keep up and EVEN to compete. Forgive me.

At least I can see it. That should testify towards my human-hearted magnanimity. I hope it absolves me of blame and marginalization.

Again: if you know not who this is, it did not matter any way. If you do: know I spared the more incriminating details, for fear that the emotions that you and I shared (as Empathy would attest to) would fall into the hands of an incidental namesake.

Dm.A.A.

LEGITIMACY:

Dm.A.A.

HSIAO CH'U.

Dm.A.A.

KU:

Dm.A.A.

THE NEXT LEVEL DOWN: ACT V, SCENE FIVE.

Scene Five: Out-N-About.

[There are two bums present conversing.]

DRAKE: Oh God I must still be on edibles.

BLONDE: Hey man that’s a good one.

BRUNETTE: I’ve done it a few times. Wasn’t to my liking.

DRAKE: Or am I dead?

BLONDE: Well, that’s a philosophical question.

BRUNETTE: No, it’s not. It’s a rhetorical question.

BLONDE: So a theoretical question?

BRUNETTE: No, you idiot. A hypothetical question.

DRAKE: If I am dead, then you two must be angels.

BRUNETTE: Yup! That’s us.

BLONDE: Well one of us at least.

BRUNETTE: Guess which one.

DRAKE: You must be me and Jackson in the future.

BLONDE: Who’s Jackson?

BRUNETTE: His FRIEND Jackson, idiot.

DRAKE: Actually not my friend.

BRUNETTE: Okay well my mistake!

BLONDE: See. Admit you’re wrong.

BRUNETTE: I’ll admit to speaking out of line.

BLONDE: OH, yeah. Big time dude.

BRUNETTE: I’ll stay in my lane. [snarls suddenly.]

DRAKE: Where AM I exactly?

BLONDE: Wasn’t that the question?

[Brunette stares.]

DRAKE: The Most Important Question in the World?

BLONDE: Yes! The most fundamental question in philosophy: Where Am I Exactly?

BRUNETTE: [still staring:] Are you out of your fucking mind?

DRAKE: I might be.

BRUNETTE: What country are you from?

DRAKE: Russia.

BLONDE: See, man? He’s not from around here.

BRUNETTE: NO one’s from around here technically.

BLONDE: Well you know what I MEAN.

BRUNETTE: You’ve never been to the United States?

DRAKE: I grew up there.

BLONDE: Here you mean.

BRUNETTE: Actually to be technical again we’re not entirely sure where “here” is.

DRAKE: So you’re as lost as I am.

BLONDE: Lost Souls, yes.

DRAKE: So I’m in the Afterlife.

BLONDE: Like we said: that is a prophetical question.

BRUNETTE: HYPOTHETICAL!!

DRAKE: This place looks familiar.

BLONDE: Are you from Rhode Island?

DRAKE: No.

BRUNETTE: Nevada?

DRAKE: No.

BLONDE: California.

DRAKE: Yeah!

BLONDE: Well then never mind bro you have no excuse.

DRAKE: Excuse for what?

BRUNETTE: You act like you’ve never seen an Out-N-About hamburger store before!

DRAKE: THAT’S where I am! I guess I left some of my lower-vibration memories back in the Earthly Plane.

BLONDE: PRESUMING you are dead.

BRUNETTE: PRESUMING WE are dead.

BLONDE: Right. And presuming we exist.

BRUNETTE: Do you EXIST, young man?

DRAKE: I think so.

BLONDE: He thinks, so he is!

BRUNETTE: Bullshit Cartesianism. *I* don’t think that I exist.

BLONDE: Then you are just an Evil Genius.

BRUNETTE: I’ll take that as a compliment.

BLONDE: What kind? Ketchup or mustard?

BRUNETTE: COMPLIMENT. Not CONDIMENT!

BLONDE: I did not SAY condiment!! I meant COMPLEMENT. It COMPLEMENTS the food.

BRUNETTE: Well then my COMPLEMENTS to the chef.

DRAKE: Are you guys the only ones here?

BLONDE: That’s a rude question.

DRAKE: I was going to ask if you were crazy.

BRUNETTE: [Ponders.] That one’s actually a sensible question.

BLONDE: Which one? The first one or the second one?

BRUNETTE: THE SECOND ONE, asshole. I all ready KNOCKED the first one.

BLONDE: No you didn’t. *I* did.

BRUNETTE: Well I didn’t STOP you did I now?

BLONDE: Oh so I guess that renders silence your consent.

DRAKE: Um.

BLONDE: Don’t listen to this guy. He’s on a lot of coke.

BRUNETTE: It’s not coke this time. It’s amphetamine.

DRAKE: You smoke amphetamine?

BRUNETTE: It TAKES YOU where you WANT TO GO. [grunts again.]

DRAKE: Elaborate.

BLONDE: Oh here goes.

[Brunette Homeless Man stands to present a poem.]

BRUNETTE: I TRIED TO TELL HIM

DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE PACIFIC OCEAN…

[Appears Tapeworm.]

DRAKE: Oh God. How did I know that Hell was a Fast Food Restaurant?

TAPEWORM: I see you made it then.

DRAKE: So this was why Kafka never got into the Castle. He knew YOU’D be here.

TAPEWORM: So are you going to call me by my name?

DRAKE: I might not.

TAPEWORM: So I’ve heard.

DRAKE: God. Even in the AFTERLIFE you two talk behind my back.

BRUNETTE: I TRIED TO TELL HIM!!

DRAKE: Why did you DO it?

TAPEWORM: Don’t know what you mean man.

DRAKE: Ariana.

TAPEWORM: Hey man. I thought you’d be happy for me.

DRAKE: Please: for once. Stop trying to adorn your bullshit.

BLONDE: Would you rather he presented it directly?

DRAKE: How do I get out of here?

TAPEWORM: You don’t.

DRAKE: The doors are gone.

TAPEWORM: Yup.

BLONDE: The Doors: now THERE was a band.

BRUNETTE: Based on the Doors of Perception.

BLONDE: By Aldous Huxley?

BRUNETTE: Based upon the poem by William Blake.

DRAKE: This is a fucking lucid dream isn’t it?

TAPEWORM: You could say that.

DRAKE: And it’s YOUR nightmare.

TAPEWORM: No. It’s yours.

DRAKE: But your dream.

TAPEWORM: Correct.

BRUNETTE: Self-awareness: knowing you are a dream figure in an other’s dream.

BLONDE: Bro quit talking in riddles.

BRUNETTE: Why? You NERVOUS?

BLONDE: The walls are closing in, man!

BRUNETTE: Naww, that’s an optical illusion.

[Drake feels walls.]

BLONDE: You mean a poetical allusion?

BRUNETTE: No. A literal analogy.

BLONDE: Oh. That lessens my confusion.

BRUNETTE: Or was it a liberal apology?

BLONDE: I literary anthology.

BRUNETTE: No not THAT you dolt.

BLONDE: The lessons of your Vision.

TAPEWORM: You two shut up now.

BRUNETTE: Oh! Well Give Caesar His Due then!

DRAKE: You finally learned how to NEGATE.

BLONDE: This is not DEBATE man.

BRUNETTE: QUIT RHYMING!

BLONDE: Wasn’t. Just bad timing.

DRAKE: I meant a different kind of negation.

BLONDE: There is only ONE Nothingness.

BRUNETTE: Said Heidegger.

DRAKE: [irritated by triggering associations.] You could never manifest. You were too weak. So you learned to subtract which you could not add.

TAPEWORM: Hey man. I added wall.

DRAKE: Yes. So original. We lost a door and made a wall.

BLONDE: Sounds like our friendship.

BRUNETTE: Who said we were friends?

DRAKE: Sounds like our business partnership.

TAPEWORM: Who said we were partners?

DRAKE: And your entire life.

TAPEWORM: Well. Welcome to my World then.

DRAKE: Why’d you do it?

TAPEWORM: I thought you’d be happy for me.

DRAKE: Quit it. YOU would have been happy for ME had you thought of any one but yourself.

TAPEWORM: Look man. She did not LOVE you.

DRAKE: That’s what you said about my ex.

TAPEWORM: SHE did not love you EITHER.

DRAKE: May be not. But neither did you.

TAPEWORM: Prove it.

DRAKE: You harboured jealousy for years against me.

TAPEWORM: I walked away!

DRAKE: Not peacefully. You did not help me after she broke up with me. I can remember. You and Jackson. Walking to the door of your mom’s condo. I remember: you told me the Sisters did not “want” what “I was selling”. All ways the consumerist analogies with you.

TAPEWORM: We’re all consumers.

DRAKE: SOME of us are connosieurs. Or simply customers. Speaking of which: can a man get a sandwich around here?

TAPEWORM: It costs three seventy.

DRAKE: Fuck. All I have is these two.

TAPEWORM: Typical.

DRAKE: I’m guessing you have more.

TAPEWORM: I saved up thousands.

DRAKE: And you’re holding out on us?

TAPEWORM: You could say that.

DRAKE: TYPICAL.

BLONDE: Hey man I wouldn’t leave it there.

DRAKE: [mocking tone.] Why? Would some one TAKE it?

BLONDE: Probably.

DRAKE: Oh? Would YOU take it?

BLONDE: Veritably.

DRAKE: [coquettishly:] Why would you do THAT? You don’t eat DRUGS do you?

ALL THREE: Speak for yourself.

DRAKE: So I AM tripping.

BLONDE: I guess so. You must have eaten some thing.

DRAKE: JACKSON. That son of a bitch put drugs into the coffee that I stole.

BRUNETTE: [sarcasm.] The miscreant!

DRAKE: You know: I pieced it together.

BLONDE: We got a da Vinci here boss.

BRUNETTE: DON’T UNDERESTIMATE THE PACIFIC OCEAN!!!

DRAKE: JACKSON. SOME one must have told the Taurus girl about J.J. She knew him, and she knew I knew him. But how could she know I told him about her jealous boy-friend?

BLONDE: The one who flies the jets?

DRAKE: HA! You knew some of my privileged knowledge!

BRUNETTE: So?

DRAKE: So this is MY dream!

BLONDE: I hate to break it to you, boss. That’s hardly privileged.

BRUNETTE: Yeah, man. The whole TOWN had her number.

BLONDE: I once tried to talk to her. Real gentlemanly. Chivalrous.

BRUNETTE: Did you write her a poem?

BLONDE: Better yet: I recorded her a song.

BRUNETTE: No wonder you’re in hell with these two losers.

BLONDE: THREE losers, man.

BRUNETTE: My apologies. I forgot to include present company.

BLONDE: [thinks.] You mean ME?

[his friend pretends to be knodding off.]

BLONDE: Fuck you guys. I’m taking a shit.

[Brunette grunts with disgruntlement.]

BLONDE: Keep an eye on those two dollars. You can let my friend O.D. here. But watch your two dollars.

BRUNETTE: [eyes closed still.] DON’T UNDERESTIMATE THE PACIFIC OCEAN!!!

BLONDE: I’ll take my chances. [exits. His friend actually dozes off now.]

DRAKE: Why did you do it?

[Brunette starts snoring.]

TAPEWORM: I only wanted what YOU wanted.

DRAKE: No. If you’d wanted what I wanted. Then I would have gotten what I wanted.

TAPEWORM: You’re only MAD that you did not get what YOU wanted.

DRAKE: Case and point.

TAPEWORM: You can’t say you were there first. I knew your ex first.

DRAKE: I did not ask you for more bullshit, “bro”. If I wanted dogma I’d go to a Church. There must be one in Hell somewhere.

TAPEWORM: You’re such a hypocrite.

DRAKE: I guess that you must be the pastor then. Okay, Father. I’ll confess my sins.

TAPEWORM: I’m listening.

DRAKE: I’ll confess that after FOUR WHOLE MONTHS of courtship I put my arm around Cassie. I’ll confess to feeling bad about it, not because of you, but because I was not sure I loved her. But I wanted to be happy and I felt I had the right to be. I’ll confess to trying to console you for two hours later. And I will confess that that day you had the opportunity to work out with me and my friend. But you past it up. Like you always do. In self-indulgent misery and self-entitlement.

[Tapeworm grows steadily angrier. His smile has evaporated.]

DRAKE: Furthermore, oh Father: I’ll CONFESS that after she broke up with me I loved her and I found the balls in my pants to go to her house and far from pleading for forgiveness I sat down and preached my rights. I shall confess you lacked either the courage or the caring to go that far for a lover. You passionate Scorpio. I shall confess that even if you did and it was some thing that I never heard about: you got away with it. You spoiled gringo.

[Tapeworm begins to visibly fume.]

DRAKE: I’ll confess that I remained in touch with you for five years though you never tried to help me out of that Hell. I’ll CONFESS that I tried once to fuck that girl you ended up with for TWO of those years. And I’ll confess to my belief when you told all of us she cheated on you. When I should have known better. That Pisces, if she ever cheated on you, did not do so to your knowledge. Because YOU cheated on HER.

[Pause.]

DRAKE: I’ll confess I know you well enough. I would not confuse your present silence for calmness. This very conversation evidences your true, seething nature. You hold grudges like a camel holds water. And you hold more hatred than your arguments hold water. But I rest my case, Oh Holy Father. I’ll confess that even now you’re squirming inwardly for some attempt to prove me “wrong” by demeaning and negating me. Like you negated those doors. So I won’t be able to escape. I shall go on to confess that when you had the chance with my now-ex you acted like you’d had a THING for her and gotten over her. I will confess that that was your one chance to stop me. May be YOU would then have gone insane, not I. May be then YOU would know what Mental Health is really like. And you would have loved Ariana as I loved her. And yet *I* would have fucked her.

BRUNETTE: I TRIED TO TELL HIM!

DRAKE: I’ll confess that my best friend lied to me even though within only four months of knowing me he acted like he owned me, like his Mother said that I was a “fair-weathered friend”, but that this same guy would go on to condemn me for the times that HE flaked out and I waited outside his Mother’s condo patiently for the appointment that HE set. I shall CONFESS that this same douche-bag tried to fuck my ex’s sister within a month of my first touching her. My ex I mean. I shall CONFESS that though it was so clear that YOU NEVER CARED for EITHER of them, you still use them as an attempt at an excuse for your ongoing parasitism.

TAPEWORM: Hey man. I’m not the one who drained your money.

DRAKE: No. You did worse. Ariana taught me. You drained my TIME. Money I can make up. Time I’ll never get back.

TAPEWORM: There is no time. There is only Eternity.

DRAKE: I’d rather live a temporal life with people than an Eternal Life with savages.

TAPEWORM: Savages are people, too.

DRAKE: The fallacy of Naturalism. One of your favourites. That what is given by Nature to be a Fact MUST BY NATURE become an Ethic.

BRUNETTE: AMEN! [snores.]

DRAKE: You don’t have that kind of dirt on me. And you never will. You can only call me a joke, lording your alpha-male track record over me like my virginity is no source of authority. But it IS. And so was Ariana’s. But you don’t care. So just confess it that you took her. Go on. It can’t hurt. You did not LOVE her.

TAPEWORM: We shared moments.

DRAKE: Moments. Fleeting moments of disgust and codependent pity. Don’t act like because you try to hide it I can’t see it. I KNOW you. You wouldn’t care. Why: your logistics alone are laughable. If four months is too SHORT a time to woo some one, then how come a month is too LONG?

TAPEWORM: Ariana was different.

DRAKE: Then why bother to compare? At any rate: three days?? Come on. She could do better. But she was impatient. Young and wild. [sighs.] She knows better now. And I won. Time heals all wounds I guess. Though not yours. Because you poison yourself constantly.

TAPEWORM: At least I don’t poison others.

DRAKE: Like hell. Any way: it took you a YEAR to fess up how you felt about my ex. And still you didn’t. And now still you won’t.

TAPEWORM: What do you mean?

DRAKE: You did not love her either. You don’t even love your SELF. So cut the dogma and the Strawman Fallacies. Fuck you man. I’m not making territorial claims. I just thought that you’d respect my aims.

BLONDE: [from restroom.] I heard a rhyme!

BRUNETTE: It’s a new PARADIGM!

BLONDE: That rhymes too!

BRUNETTE: It’s not a CRIME, DOUCHE!

BLONDE: THANK you!

DRAKE: You know: I’ve thought a lot about the Universe of late. As you would.

TAPEWORM: Oh yeah?

DRAKE: Yeah. The paradox of the Expanding Universe. The one Woody Allen couldn’t figure out. How is it expanding if it’s infinite?

TAPEWORM: That’s a tough one.

DRAKE: It’s not. It’s just counterintuitive. A balloon expands. The balloon remains the same volume on the surface. Its surface is two-dimensional. Ours is three-dimensional. The balloon expands in three dimensions. WE expand in more than that. But what do both of these things have in common? The dots on the balloon grow further apart. And so do objects in Our Universe.

BLONDE: A balloon doesn’t have dots.

BRUNETTE: SHUT UP.

DRAKE: I realized that Americans are like that. We expand our empire. And we grow apart. Why?

TAPEWORM: People like their space you know.

DRAKE: Again: Space. That’s all that it is. Space. But what about Gravity? Nuclear Forces? One girl I knew mocked the superstition that love held the Universe together. She said it was Dark Matter. I told her that they’re just two ways of saying the same thing.

TAPEWORM: Heh.

DRAKE: You were not that force of attraction. You weren’t Eros. You were Thanatos. Death. Destruction. Entropy. Energy is infinite delight.

BRUNETTE: William Blake again.

DRAKE: That makes Entropy infinite disappointment. And I’ve been spiraling out of control. But I am better now. Better than that.

TAPEWORM: Hey man. Don’t put this on me.

DRAKE: That’s just the thing. I wasn’t putting it on you overtly. You just KNOW that it’s on YOU, so you try to get rid of it. But it is really your own blame. It’s your own karma. It will come back to you. It all ways does.

TAPEWORM: Look who’s blaming me!

DRAKE: I am now. Because I have nothing to lose. I don’t need you trying to think for me. It never worked. You just deluded yourself that it did.

TAPEWORM: What was I supposed to DO?

DRAKE: Honestly. Let me have my turn.

TAPEWORM: YOU’VE HAD your turn. You’ve been TALKING for TEN MINUTES now.

DRAKE: And you’ve not been listening.

TAPEWORM: I HAVE.

DRAKE: No. Were you listening you’d know just what I meant when I said… what did I say?

TAPEWORM: You said I was exaggerating and time didn’t matter any way since we are in Eternity.

BRUNETTE: BULL shit.

DRAKE: THANK you. I remembered. I said “my turn”. Well. You heard my words. But not me. What I MEANT was – what *I* meant was –

TAPEWORM: Yeah?

DRAKE: It was my turn for Love. I had my ex. Then you had yours. You had your sex with all your whores.

BLONDE: Do I have to come OUT there?

TAPEWORM: It was consentual.

DRAKE: Not on my end.

TAPEWORM: You don’t OWN PEOPLE and their FEELINGS!

DRAKE: Then why were you pissed when I DISOWNED you?

TAPEWORM: That’s not WHAT THAT MEANS.

DRAKE: For once I’ve outwitted you. Usually I’m just right quietly.

TAPEWORM: You’re quiet because you don’t have an argument.

DRAKE: Better than stealing some one else’s.

[Pause.]

DRAKE: You know: you have a lot of rhetoric. I mean fuck. Even WALTER WHITE took TWO years before he started to cohort with Neo-Nazis.

TAPEWORM: Hitler had some great ideas.

DRAKE: Opinions are cheap. What you Nazis do not understand is how to merge Spirit with Matter.

TAPEWORM: What do you think we’re doing HERE then?

DRAKE: Turning doors into walls is not much of a mersion. It’s just annoying.

Ariana was right. You were the suburban. I’m the shaman.

TAPEWORM: Oh, yeah? Well get OUT then.

DRAKE: I will soon. But first let me finish.

TAPEWORM: You WON’T! It’s IMPOSSIBLE! You Will NOT!

DRAKE: Let me finish. Fuck. Where was I?

BRUNETTE: Mind over Matter.

TAPEWORM: Shut up!

DRAKE: THANK you, old man.

BRUNETTE: Don’t mention it.

DRAKE: You all ways mistook a physical evil for a personal evil. Boulders don’t give a fuck so you don’t.

BRUNETTE: Fallacy of Naturalism.

DRAKE: It does not justify it.

TAPEWORM: Easy for you to say.

DRAKE: Only because my Soul is pure. Truth has a way of rolling off the tongue.

BLONDE: I BE ROLLING TRUTH LIKE DUNG!

BRUNETTE: Nestor, shut UP!!

BLONDE: Sorry I was trying to play the game.

BRUNETTE: You are a cause for shame.

BLONDE: And now I’m stung.

TAPEWORM: You just don't know how to take responsibility for yourself. It's okay.

DRAKE: No.

TAPEWORM: Okay. Then it's NOT okay.

DRAKE: No. I rather refuse to take responsibility for the failings of a system. If I did I'd be condoning that system by showing how "success is possible" within its narrow limitations. And I'm not going to be a poster-boy for inefficiency. Like you are. And like most "men" are.

TAPEWORM: I'm not a fucking POSTER-BOY for "inefficiency". You just don't know how to function in society!

DRAKE: Society its self does not know how to function. Society is an unintelligent mass whose total stupidity is greater than the sum of its parts. The neurotic is simply the expression of popular neuroses.

TAPEWORM: Every thing you say is just a testament to your dependency.

DRAKE: I'm no more dependent than you are. And I'm not even leveling with you by saying that. I am returning the blame. You act like you are so independent. But you displace your own codependent tendencies upon me. Codependently of course. Much like you displace your hypocrisy. Quite hypocritically. Of course.

TAPEWORM: Any one can say that though!

DRAKE: But not any one would really mean it and have the track record to back it up. It matters not though. I am done elaborating. I'll only state the obvious: that it was you who came to ME after the band broke up. Before then: yes. I came to you. But not because I needed you. But rather you needed me. And back then I considered it my duty in this life to help.

TAPEWORM: So you needed me to validate your misplaced sense of duty!

DRAKE: If it was misplaced I did not need it. But you needed me, all things considered notwithstanding. Yes. I came to you because you needed me. And you tried to get me to come back, for the same reasons. Yet you would not admit them. Never could you own up to that fact. And when I did come back to you, when it was much too late, it was for Ariana. All because that was what she really all ways wanted. And that's all that ever really mattered. But she was right. You were too much of a bitch to let it happen. You know:  when she first said that about you I could not tell fact from fiction. But now those words swim into my mind, from the depths of my intuition, absolutely unbidden. Hauntingly. I get that a lot these days. And they are Ariana's words. And so by corroborating her they vindicate her and testify towards her sincerity. I told you I would end up with her. And I did.

DRAKE: You know: some days I have what are called Peak Experiences: moments of extreme integration, peace and mental prosperity. Days when I feel inextricably connected to all of manifestation, human and non-human. You know. Like you do. When you take psychedelics.

TAPEWORM: Ha.

DRAKE: The difference between you and me is: that I have to WORK for them. I have to work to get here. And I all ways did. You ridiculed me like I was a fool. You even went so far as to call me "dogmatic" and "controlling." Then you got a job. And I was now a hippie and a slacker. And no one noticed the change. No one besides me.

TAPEWORM: Is that right?

DRAKE: Not quite. But I realize some thing days like this. You people all ways think it's going to be some thing shallow and ridiculous. The way you speak of Universal Solidarity. Of Individual Integrity and Human Goodness. Of Friendship. You talk about like it's one big joke. And you're still probably laughing from the drug-induced euphoria.

TAPEWORM: Well.

DRAKE: But then: you expect the world of me. You know I've found some thing. Some thing you do not have. And you expect it to benefit you. You expect ME to benefit you. But far from feeling so inclined, I feel the opposite. On days like this, as you laugh up at me, I cry down to you. Until my pity is exhausted. And then I have nothing left for you but pure contempt. Because you waste your lives -- and those of other people -- in this ignorance.

TAPEWORM: Look man. I'm not a Buddhist for a reason.

DRAKE: I'm not Buddhist either. Yet for different reasons. The same ones as Friedrich Nietzsche had. Nihilism. And that's why I hate YOU too. Your lives are pointless. You brag about all your private pleasures. But what happened to the Human Dream? You cannot handle PAIN. Whereas for me to speak so bluntly is TOO easy. So easy that it looks totally unfair to you. And you resent me for it. That is why you jeer.

[a long pause.]

TAPEWORM: See what you are doing? NO responsibility for yourself.

DRAKE: I am not RESPONSIBLE to YOUR DOGMA. You WRONGED us all and yet you don’t admit to being WRONG.

TAPEWORM: Neither do you!

DRAKE: You won’t hold me to your standards. I held my SELF to your standards. So I know you never held your self to them. And this would not have happened had you.

TAPEWORM: Look who’s talking!

DRAKE: *I* AM, BITCH. So LISTEN UP. You don’t get to LORD your self-entitled jealousy OVER me. I have my OWN PAIN. If you wanted me to HEAL YOU, to see things from YOUR PERSPECTIVE, then you should have been a better friend. And yes: I’d KNOW what being friends means truly. I would NOT have broken your heart on purpose. No: not even just for my benefit. This is ALL ON YOU. I remember seeing you on Edibles. The monster that you were. When ARIANA and I did the same drug with Jackson, she was a source of CALM. That woman: she deserved much better. She did.

TAPEWORM: Well too BAD then.

DRAKE: Yes. TOO fucking bad. But I’ll go on. You’ll be stuck in hell.

TAPEWORM: You’re in here WITH me dude. JUST like on that edibles trip! For ETERNITY.

DRAKE: It did feel that way back then. But sooner or later we all come down. I’ve been kicked out of so many places. Like I’m being kicked down stairs. All ways waiting for the Next Level Down. But then I’m reminded of what the Taoists said: The Tao seeks the lowest level. The one that human beings abhor. Yes: your failings were only human. But that’s just TOO stuck up for me.

TAPEWORM: Look who’s talking…

DRAKE: Funny. Two years ago I would not have imagined it possible that any one could do what you did. ANY one. If it had happened I would have missed it.

TAPEWORM: You did. When you did it to me.

DRAKE: Hm. Murder versus manslaughter. Next time don’t jaywalk on a dark road.

TAPEWORM: Her fucking me served you right.

DRAKE: Such pettiness. I guess it served YOU right. She found you out for me. As far as she was aware: you’re still a virgin.

TAPEWORM: That does not make SENSE even!

DRAKE: To her it does. She didn’t come.

TAPEWORM: She was ASEXUAL.

DRAKE: Well played then. Any way. I would not have done it to any one. I did not think it was possible. Had you told me you saw it happen, I would not have believed it. And my own “best friend” did it. All these years you lorded it all over me and I thought it was had all been for my benefit. But it wasn’t. It was codependency. You were the parasite. *I* was the host.

TAPEWORM: It doesn’t even MATTER! NOTHING MATTERS!

BOTH BUMS: Amen.

DRAKE: There you’re wrong. Because when I get out of here I’ll write a play.

TAPEWORM: No one’s going to read it!

DRAKE: I know Jackson’s argument. That my writing has too much of “me” in it. That I don’t “see things how they are” but only “how they appear to Drake”. But what he in his extraverted arrogance overlooks is that ALL writers do that. All PEOPLE do that. And it’s enough. That’s why neither of you ever will get published. Because you’ll never live up to your own inflated self-conception.

TAPEWORM: Look who’s inflated!

DRAKE: I can see that clearly. See: I don’t NEED objectivity. Subjectivity is enough. I don’t need a car, a job, or even a girlfriend. Yes: some of those are nice. But I don’t NEED them. I have my own voice. And that’s enough.

TAPEWORM: No one will HEAR it!

DRAKE: They will soon.

[The manager comes out.]

MANAGER: Hey! Your money’s no good here.

DRAKE: Why is that? Because I’m Jewish?

MANAGER: No. Because you SMELL.

DRAKE: [courtsies gracefully.] Show me the door, boss.

MANAGER: Right this way.

[A door manifests.]

TAPEWORM: You BULLSHIT all the time.

DRAKE: Nope. It just SOUNDS like bullshit. Like how rap is near-rhyme. And pyrite is fool’s gold. It’s NEAR-Bullshit.

BRUNETTE: Bullshit-bullshit.

BLONDE: DAMN that was a good shit.

MANAGER: Hey you! You can’t be here either.

BRUNETTE: [as though roused from a dogmatic slumber.] Well. That’s my cue.

TAPEWORM: You’re burning bridges, man.

BRUNETTE: Gnaw. I’m sure he’ll salvage SOME of them.

DRAKE: I’d like to take this moment to say: Fuck Justin Perkins.

BLONDE: I guess some bridges stay burned.

DRAKE: When *I* burn bridges, yes: they stay burned.

[all three exit.]

[Tapeworm picks up two dollars.]

MANAGER: Hey. Are you going to buy some thing or what?

TAPEWORM: Sure. Let me see your dollar menu.

MANAGER: [Suddenly friendly.] Right this way, Sir.

TAPEWORM: Thank you.

MANAGER: No problem.

TAPEWORM: Here’s a tip. [offers money.]

MANAGER: Oh no. You give that up front.

TAPEWORM: Got ya.

[Follows manager off stage.]

Dm.A.A.

DM.A.A.