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          A            "The Road Travels You"          aNAda #2    A
        A                                                            A
     A                       by Mutter                 02/01/00         A
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 midnight rants on impossible lovers,
          getting high off the Neon night with mushrooms in the blood
          and blood in the head,
          depressing cigarette butts floating in an ashy cup of tea,
          blasting bassy rap from a speeding Saturn cruising down
          Prospect St.,
          scream-laughter echoing in the hall,
                                  in the head,
          cursing my non-life,
          smirking at the non-death behind amber-tinted eye glasses,
 keeping myself clean for a non-existent heaven,
 pissing on the fires of a non-existent hell,
                 crossed with gas induced wippet dreams,
                      half-second long visions and
                         stupid, imbecillic,
                 the kind the retarded have when they close their eyes,
 watching my maplewood comrades find themselves in a scum filled apartment
      smoking a bong and chatting into forever about Jerry Garcia
      (there's something comforting in their consistency),
      and the Dead become dead but the living stay fucked,
 endlessly repeating to myself "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke ..
                  Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke .. Fuck 'em ...",
                  listening to a drunken coward bitch into the night
                  about going to bed alone,
                  what ever happened to James? (no, the other one),
 slow trips in the backseat of a burning car to a Gen-X fantasy I want
                  nothing a part of
                but I want a part of,
                going on an all-creative trip,
                walking through strange lands of New York City
                trying to find the pale-faced youths who will sit,
                drink coffee
                and talk about breaking stupid laws and doing
                amazing things with a telephone,
 red stream, up stream, fuck you, fuck me,
         admitting I'm an angry hypocrite,
    that's my story but it's not over yet,
  bathing in the glow of buzzing monitors and Tyler's squelching screaming
 radios and Zach de la Rocha was also screaming, insane enough to break a
 window to free a fly, mixed with randomness spouted out of those girls
 from philly, eyes stuck to a word, opening the bathroom door to find two
 Asians shaving each others' hair, too weird to acknowledge (as am I),
 as is Jesus on the street corner asking for a quarter and receiving a
 dollar,
 laughing into stupidity for no good spoken reason
 but "Ducktales" is all you need to say (woo-hoo!),
 getting burned at the Red-and-White stake of modern academia,
 Mothers: lock up your children, they'll find no friends here,
 head full of clouds and nonsense,
 sitting in a circle trying to figure out how to tell a joke no one will get,
 ear pressed up against a phone with a cord too short to reach, chatting
 about
 being a subgenius with a long ago friend, dropping on a park bench
 to smoke at 1:12 in the morn
 (I really don't smoke),
 skankin' crazy dancing like no one's watching,
  drunken trips to fast food places that we know are closed,
  doesn't really matter, it's all about the trip (not the destination),
     head banging, snapping,
          breaking, blasting no-reception static into Mattia-nothingness ...

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 {  (c)2000 aNAda e'zine *                          * aNAda002 * by Mutter  }
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