10 Things For 9: An open letter to…

Someone has to say it, I think people should stay stupid.

Cook in 971 Words on July 29th, 2016

Just think about it. If everyone was stupid we wouldn’t have any smart people? I’m not saying this because I think people are smart. I don’t say this because I think I am smart. I am allowed to have my opinion and here it is, wake up America, and lay back down, because yes, it is time for the change to be made.

If people were stupid wouldn’t it be easier? Just think about it……………and now stop…you have run out of thinking time. Your thinking time is up Mr.Sir and you have had enough. If we lived in a world where people were stupid then we would have a world where we all belong. Just think about it. Haven’t we had enough of this segregation? Haven’t we have seen our children cry, grow up, and act like children? Why should we pretend? Why? We should all just be stupid. Now I know what your thinking…and just stop because your thoughts are no good, in fact they shouldn’t be thoughts, they just shouldn’t be. I had this personal experience and here it is. My mom and dad raised me, and that’s a fact. Try and dispute it. You can’t, stupid. I remember when they raised me…in fact…they haven’t stopped and that’s true. I was young. Yes I was. My dad sat me down on our front stoop. His glassy eyes echoed out the hot July sun. Dad spoke when he said, “Son…you…me…well this whole thing…this thing we have…it’s there.”

“I will never forget that dad,” I said to the father.  My dad’s eyes squinted, his mouth curled up and he cocked his head to the side to express his confusion. “What? What did you say?” That’s the America I want to live in, an America of “What?” Just like my Dad told me. We get to the “What?” when I finish the intro. Here are the 10 things and here is your “What?”

1. Why is you the way you are?

Remember the you that you were? Right? Remember? Yes. Now take a breath, yes a breath. Just think of why you are?


2. Are you even present?

You know when people talk of the “Now?” take a moment and reflect on the present. Who are your friends? Are you a friend? Is the past in the past? Why is the present not your future?


3. Why? Why? Why? WHY?

Yeah. Why? Just think about it.

4. Is? 

Oh yes.


5. That’s right fuckface. 

Vice News killed Death by Audio lol.


6. And every time.

STOP. Remember that time it didn’t happen? When that didn’t keep happening? It’s because you stopped….so there was no more every time. In fact, time is a human construct which means it’s not real, just like vaccines and bills of rights.


7. Bruce Springsteen

“Brando, whose childhood nickname was “Bud”, was a mimic from his youth. He developed an ability to absorb the mannerisms of kids he played with and display them dramatically while staying in character.” (Wikipedia)


8. Here I am!

Take a good gander. What do you see? Are you where you are?


9. …for Marie Cardona

I touched a wet spot on my shorts and wiped snot from my nose with the same hand. It smelled like piss. Memories, like snippets of paper, Elmer’s glued into a jank and shredded collage of fucked up sexual developments was thrust into my face, echoing through my conscious. I was sucked into a glitched black hole and into my blurred and spaghetti past. I, like a ghost, saw myself in the third person. I am thirteen, buzz-cut, shorts around my ankles, boner and pillow beneath me. I am rubbing and rolling my hard dick around on my pillow. I keep looking back to make sure my door is locked. My fan screams as it turns back and forth, the sound covering up my humping.  I can hear Marie downstairs, my 23 year old babysitter. She is shuffling through the house, texting some dumbass with a crew cut and an ivy league sweatshirt. I hear a kitchen cabinet open. I get scared, but it excites me. I rub harder into the pillow. I yearn for another person, another human to share this with, to rub up against, their breath, skin, neck, nipples. God how I want to feel their sweat more than anything else. I take my hand and press the head of my dick into the pillow, hard, I let out a drip of pee. Oh god how I want to smell her pee. I shove my face into the wet mark and inhale like I’m huffing heaven. I get four deep breaths. The wooden stairs bend as feet thud up them. A hand reaches toward my door, I can sense it.

“Hey Cook?”

I feel my whole being drain out of my body like a whirlpool in a bathtub. The room appears in complete clarity.

I manage to push out a

“yeah, yes?”

“What are you doing in there?”

My eyelids sling open like the gaping fault of an earthquake. I feel as though someone has ripped off my skin..she knows, she knows it all, all of it, the pillow, the pee, god…I swallow.

“Nothing” I respond, trembling.

“ok” she says, with soft hesitation and haunting curiosity.

I lean back in my chair in my room in Hempstead. I look at my dead flowers, my notes from my ex-girlfriend, an empty jar of peanut butter, and the wet spot on my shorts. What “nothing” could I be doing now?

10. woke.

“As “South Park” has stated, “the world isn’t one big liberal arts college campus the reality is just the opposite.””