Thursday, March 03, 2011

Compassionate Eyes Are Not Necessarily Blind


by James Jarvis
from Offline Journal Of The Damned

   Gary the articulate wino was sitting on the bus stop bench in front of the Arco with his whore, the whore who tries to kiss me every day in thanks for me forgiving her mad trespass against me a few weeks ago. I forgave her minutes after her act of public stupidity. I did. What she hasn't understood yet, is that forgiveness is not acceptance. I forgave her the screaming tirade against me. That doesn't mean I condone her $10 street prostitution or that I want to be her best friend.

   It's chilly tonight and Gary and his whore must be cold. If I had a spare blanket, I would give it to them. But I'm not going to invite them over to my crack motel room to watch the Superbowl with my soap fondling roommate.

    I threw up on the sidewalk in front of the motel and came back inside. No more war movies for me for a while. Lots of crap stirred up. I know I act like I served my country sometimes, but I guess I really didn't, not with the inconvenience suffered by the draft dodgers and the college deferment crowd (who were smart enough to see that a war run by a crooked politician and a car designer--the designer of the Edsel, no less--could not end well).

   Excuse me, I'm going to go barf again. No more war movies for me for a while. I'm too delicate.
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