The Fargo Kantrowitz'z Literary Campsite

The Deal

Ive had enough. Enough is enough. U got guys carrying guns in their larynx’s. you got people doing stupid things for people not you but them. Our representatives in congress on the Republican side are ALL working for corporations without admitting it. There is no other explanation for the tax bill.

You can’t win the argument on the street because nobody is watching the same program. But you’re ready to pick up a pitchfork and make it out into the streets anyway because supposedly there is an enemy there and you have to pitch in and join the fight. But you don’t admit that you didn’t see that internet show and realize that you don’t know why you are holding that pitchfork. You pitch the fork anyway. You wait. Why, you wonder. Why did I do it? But now it is too late, you are part of the plan. They will tell you what to do from here, in the meantime the elite, not the liberal elite, but the conservative elite, are going to eat. They are going to eat your children and you better smile and say yessir if you want your crust now. Without now then how could you have then, you imagine. But then comes and you watch the leg go down. Slurp. The deal you made with Donald Trump.

Jimmy ambled down the road. Not much going on with jimmy today. His official stance pertaining to his state of mind was left open. Of course, he was unconscious about so much but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try. You had to pull from the pit the sustenance that you need. It all feels so empty, like there is nothing going on anywhere that matters. Hopeless, pointless it is. Pitiful. Over. So what then? What then? What then? What’s the point and what is the point of thinking about then? When there is no now from which to grow a then.

In another sphere above the fear that he was aware of was a huge blue sky with birds flying and breezes that held meaning. Beauty, he supposed. But enough about that. The thing that everybody wanted to know about Jimmy was whether he would become a success. He too thought of this and it ultimately disappointed him greatly until he stopped doing anything that would make him a success. He was too put on the spot.

He made it down the street but didn’t know to turn left or right so he just kept walking. What’s the point? There was no point. Might as well keep walking forever, he thought. His feet kept moving. His mother was dead. His family was gone. His love hopes abandoned. The blue world above him or meaningful beauty always lived there, but it was impossible to connect to. So he walked with a fake blue sky above him as he did. Fake clouds. Fake birds. No accompanying feeling, the one thing he wanted. Nothing that mattered could permeate his skull. His skull, not heart. The heart was just one big lament by this time. Something that didn’t matter that much at all. Life didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing.

Ii

Of course some things mattered, like sunshine and the best next word. Why would Jimmy want to cry? Post modern writers were all fools. That world wasn’t real. Only the real world was real. You know, that one. But then, you don’t want to say that, that the world is near one pickle shy of an empty barrel. Done. Nothing matters anymore as they say in this era of Trump. Nothing matters anymore. Exactly what jimmy was saying and feeling. Who cares? Who cares? You? Do you?