Tag Archives: fiction

Jesse Pinkman

You won’t think much of me

Code name: Cap’n Cook

Meth user

Manufacturer

And dealer

Of Chili P meth

Now partner of Heisenberg

Crass,

Low-life,

wanksta,

nobody

Drug addict

Insomniac

Born September 14, 1984

an upper middle-class family

Albuquerque

“Apply yourself” on the header of a flunked paper

From Mr. White my chemistry teacher

Dropped out of Wynne High School

failing to adhere to the rules

Lectures and classes were a snooze fest

Failed almost every test

Thrown out by my parents

From the litanies of lies

Rooted from my drug use and abuse

Outclassed and outshined

By Jake my younger bro

A shelf full of academic accolades

You wouldn’t know that I

Have a raving imagination

An artistic bent

A buried penchant

For eccentric superhero drawing

And a knack for woodworking

I once poured passion

into building a box

of Peruvian walnut wood

with inlaid zebra-wood

Fitted with pegs, no screws

Sanded it “smooth as glass”

But traded it for an ounce of weed

You wouldn’t know that

After being kicked out from my home

I moved in with my sick Aunt Ginny

And took care of her until she died from lung cancer

But I was kicked out of that home as well by my parents

So I took on the itinerant life-style of couch surfing

Moving from place to place

Sometimes staying the night in a cold RV

My only “family” was the guys from my high school garage band

Found that cooking meth was the only way of “getting by”

Because that was the only thing he was really “good at”

You wouldn’t know that

After overdosing heroine with my girlfriend in my bedroom

She began asphyxiating on her own vomit

And died while I slept

You wouldn’t know that Walter White my own high school teacher

Got me back into meth cooking

Made me murder

Made me steal

Witnessed multiple murders

Becoming enslaved to the cycle

So am I the villain?

Or the victim?

Or am I just Jesse Pinkman

A homeless fool

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The Death of Wisdom (A Gentleman’s Conversation)

T: I doubt they’ll ever hear of you again.

 

M: What do you mean by that?

 

T: You know how it is, you have once chance to flash to them what in in your cerebral cortex, one chance implant your face, your eyes into their minds.

 

 

M: I mean if you were making a playful, gargoyle face, frowning. After drawing their attention you quip something nonsensical, like “The grapefruits were sumptuously tart, back in the golden years of mirth.”

 

T: People might think you were a vagabond theorist or philosopher wandering.

 

M: Or some complete bath salt sniffing looney, plenty of those in the urbz.

 

T: Oh don’t remind me of the death of wisdom, the coup da grâce, came with the lust for the Ford Model Ts.

 

M: My dear sir, those long overdue. Men have always been biting on gold coins, once one cave fellow stole the other cave man’s wheel.

 

T: Then when did men prefer the golden ax rather than the axiom?

 

M: A particular moment is when the Gutenberg Press was first invented. Where the information was easily accessible to the commoner, and no need for strict memorization of what was passed down from the elders. No knows much of anything any because we have other sources to remember for us. When technology began extended people’s lives and everything became age-defying, disease defying, no one valued old-age, and old adages any more. We began to seek to out-best and out-last the previous generations.

 

T: That might very well be so, but are you some tyrannical, monopoly hoarding, Bourgeoisie?

 

M erupted in a fit of laughter. M: No, no, I’m a sardonically, humble man just wanting to place humanity back down a few notches from the tower of Babel. Now how would you describe wisdom?

 

T: Well wisdom or virtue is simply the more correct choice, given the shifting variables in an imbalanced and chaotic world we live.

 

M: You are correct in that but where does wisdom stem from?

T:  Probably as the human brain evolved its left and right hemispheres into a rational, self-reflecting being.

M: May I suggest that Wisdom had to be at the start of the beginning of it all?

 

T: You mean the Big Bang?

 

M: Big Pow, Big Kaboom, Big Fart, whatever you called it, it collected was in that, whether it be in divine foresight, causation, we were lined up, atoms, molecules, chemical bonding, atomic fusion. And those amino-acids formed, and life spring from what was no life. As the scientists say…

 

T: And where is the wisdom…?

 

M: Course! Wisdom was inherently in that, how couldn’t it be? Could it be chance?  I’m no physicist nor biologist, but it doesn’t even have to take a philosopher to see that, it came about.

 

T: But this world how wise could it be? I see nothing but chaos in the world, children starving in third-world nations, men who just were healed from a hospital get hit by cars, dogs running into burning buildings to save their owner, only to have it collapse on them, where is the wisdom in that?

 

M: Ah, but you are wrong in that there are the correct choices, when one decides to stop, instead of cross the street, avoiding incoming traffic, when a mother feeds her child by the breast, when a young person gives his own time to feed those who are less fortunate at a homeless shelter.

 

T: Those are just common-sense, and also the common good for others.

 

M: Ah, but it often happens that the opposite comes true. It might be the “default” but there is to fault in saying that there is “wisdom,” to align itself to certain “correctness.” Not in the sense of unbreakable laws, but as the world is supposed to work. There is a great peace in that, in knowing that the law of physics will work in a round of football.

 

T: But this seems completely contradictory to you saying the “death of wisdom” which was written in an obituary in newsprint.

 

M: By no means, is wisdom six feet underground, but it is dead, for no one acknowledges that wisdom is present, or even that it is needed. We wheel our elderly into almost funeral homes to sit and decompose. Wisdom was there. We look to ourselves, our own frail, temporal bodies, shouting, “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.” The only thing we fail to captain was our own desires.  We exhort that our technologies can save us, our search engines, searching for the unsearchable. For wisdom is far off, hidden, rare as gold, but in plain sight to those who would only turn over a leaf to gaze at every vein branching, connecting like a vast electrical network.

 

M: Wisdom was there in that spectacular moment when the universe exploded, and continued to reverberate, expand, and grow as the universe is continually in motion. But wisdom died, when humanity gave up finding it, placing trust in absurdity, serendipity, uncertainty, chaotic chatter of a thousand radio and television voices.  For what fun is a life of a nihilist,   but live an existentialist, create your own allusions. Pick your own buffet of religion.  Self-allusions followed by consumerism, driven by the need to placate the inner nagging child of shifting lusts and wants of the heart.

T: Will wisdom be ever found again?

 

M: Seek and you will find. Knock at the door, and it will open

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