Wednesday Study and Muse

I won second place Prose division with this blurb about me watching people walking by my window at the Pan Am library while taking a study break. I know- presumptuous and generalized, but funny.

As I sit here in my comfortable seat (the one I usually occupy) here in the trusty noise-free first floor of the library at the University, I gaze wantonly out the window and my mind takes on a pensive mode. I stare out towards the long corridor that provides the clones a walkway to their next class. The clones, you ask? Why, let me indulge you on this brief insight. The clones are those who are unsuspectingly snatched up from their walk by an unforgiving, relentless and demanding fashion entity. They are then brainwashed and stripped of their own constitution and free will and transformed into a slave to the fashion and social likings or norm of the scene. There usually is no escape from this unwanted (I’m almost positive it is) enslavement of fashion. Any sights of emancipation from this grip are farfetched. The conspiracy tries them, and the verdict strips them to the bone of any originality they once possessed. A man once said, “When a man can no longer choose, a man ceases to be a man.” I won’t tell you who it was, but if you know- then you know. Well put, that quote is. Clones, therefore, are a new breed wondering about, erratically, spreading attitude and advertising the works of their new Messiah (unwillingly, I’m almost positive). Trust me friends when I tell you that it is more contagious than a cold!


Clones are your everyday average “Joe”. But to further explain how common and camouflaged they truly are on the social grounds, I will point out a few that I have, with my weak sense of sight and smell, spotted unsuspectingly and without notice. I cannot help but to leer at this accomplishment. (Sometimes I can be so slick!!). The clones consist of: the successful people; the simple people; the flashy people; the insecure overly-dressed people; the angst-ridden, black-dark poetry writing, purple hairdo, torn hose, combat boot (especially the black ones) wearing, “I play a guitar to punish my mom!!” (God bless Pink Floyd) although I suck, but what the hell, it’s loud and noisy thinking, patches on the backpack next to the anarchy logos boasting free-speech and free-will using, agnostic, or simply atheist, “I can’t change the world, and the world won’t stare me in the eye, so I refuse to take part- but I will express and yell out my concerns to the clouds- my listeners, (expressing means so much to this group); the rambunctious nationals from Mexico (the largest amount of cloning is seen in this group and the Fashion State seems to favor cloning in this group), as they smoke and inhale their long trails of cigarette smoke (it is to my firm belief that if you could make or transverse all the miasma these clones inhale on a daily average into a line, we could walk on it to the moon.), they flick their used butts over and past the most conveniently, placed only two feet away from them, for some ungodly known reason, (sarcasm), little red barrel with sand in it marked, “CIGARETTE BUTT DISPENSER” in large unison. Next cigarette “Bueys!!”; introverted individuals; strutting jocks who boast about how far or fast they can throw or fetch and retrieve a ball (hmmmm, brag about that? My dog is a jock.); the geeks who like to use big words to intimidate the meek for reassurance that their presence here is not, after all, that much of a waste of time and space, (“Flex your brain” as my Dad would say.); the gyrating, too tight fitting attire wearing, “I know you’re looking at me, I can see the river of drool behind you and I like it and I will sleep much better tonight!!”, thinking girlies who like to intimidate and tease dumbfounded fools who cannot do a lick of anything about it but dream and suffer while pondering what it would be like to go out on a date with this “Barbie”, (the Fashion State most cruelly punish these clones paradoxically by lowering their IQ’s immensely and without remorse); the heavy starched, boot wearing, too big of a Stetson on the head, cowboys (who have never rode on a horse, but still wear the attire, AND THEY DRIVE A CAR!!!! BLASPHEME!!)…………………You get the point!!

So, the clones are walking on as I stare. Heading to their classes, marching in unison under a two-way corridor. (I swear I see the barcodes on the backs of their necks!)

Ants on a trail these clones are. Ants governed by Fashion and Superfluities. Take away the gruesome and constricting ground rules laid upon these poor, depraved beasts by the Fashion Messiah and they are just like you and I. Take caution, though, as you approach a clone. They possess a poisonous attitude that will make you feel smaller than starving pseudopodia! (You know what attitude I’m talking about). Smile at an oncoming clone and watch the eyes look the other way as if that ugly, featherless, malnourished crow that just picked up a left over, almost completely devoured pizza crust from the ground (probably discarded by one after seeing the dripping grease and imagining what it would do to their still “non-pinchable waist), is all of a sudden more important in their field of view. Now do you recognize that look? I thought so.

Anyhow, the ants on the trail are dissipating. That is to say, friends, that they’ve reached their destinations. I mean, they’re in class. Right? Oh well, I stare on. Looking out and about for my inspiration. (What a teasing ritual this is!!) This muse, which flies and hovers in front of me just far enough to be out of my reach, toying with my wanton mind, flies with its multi-colored (yellow, with spots of black) wings fluttering, is prone to my conscious net! (I need Raid!) What I’m trying to say is, I’m staring into space looking for a Super Nova wearing tight jeans and a tight t-shirt to cross into my line of sight! (Oops, did I say that out loud?) For the love of God, I need an inspiration!!

So, I’m contemplating my next move, chess king. And now, I am reflecting, HARDCORE!! I think of my next possible move. “Next step please!!” the impatient attendant in my head behind the counter with bars above it in front of her face yells out to me. I’ve got it now!! I’ll read!! I’ll do just what I came here to do!! Here, once more, back in my comfortable, noise free, study room on the first floor of the library at the University, (after my mental celestial journey), which has now attracted the likings of about fifteen more people. Whoo Hooo!! Full house!! Bring out the chips and beer boys!!………………Oh wait, I can’t do that. (Must study…) These temporary subliminal penetrations are such a distraction, yes they are. As Yoda would say, “Yes, study I must. Mm! Ponder no more, I mustn’t. Mm!” God bless Yoda and his queer, peculiar, morphology. (I like it!!) As I decide with hesitation (but, I must) to study, I look once more out the window at the corridor (this window is poison!!) and stare once more at the disappearing clones and ponder some more. The clones look back at me and gaze. I must seem inferior to these poor bastards! They forgot what originality is, and when they see it, it violates their social beliefs. (I’m sorry!) For one brief moment of solitude, the clones and I bond. They get a glimpse of what realism is, and I get a glimpse of what fantasy and falsity is. The Fashion State is attempting to penetrate my pure being. So, I unlock my stare with these clones. (Remember I said it was more contagious than a cold!!) I casually brush off the virus of an influence and stay true to myself. (I do believe in spooks!! I do believe in spooks!! I do believe in spooks!! I do!! I do!! I do!!) I will not succumb to the chain wearing, ultra-seducing, Fashion Messiah with long, cold, and clutching steel arms lurching for unsuspecting dwindling cats on the walk. I’m much stronger than that, my friends. (At least, my walk tells me that.) Anyhow, I leave YOU to ponder on that. Now, I must tend to my studies.