Random-write and Checkmate

Marcus dug the tips of his fingernails into his palm until it smarted. He hated this time of day. Spanish class. The teacher, a Ms. Nunez, would expect him to answer the most absurd - never mundane - questions and would hiss at him whenever he tried to fill in the words he didn't know with English. Worse yet, his classmates were demeaning assholes who, bored with their own lives, seemed to make it their own personal objective to ruin his. Marcus had a habit of rolling his eyes, which got him bled and bruised on a couple of occasions.

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I think I always get a little uncomfortable around the wealthier parts of the island. I try not to contemplate class. After all, I once believed that identities conceived in Hawaii could transcend themselves, especially outside of the islands. However, I would say that it bothers me now because things are so mixed and blurred. Perhaps it's my lack of "mind-reading"1 or common sense, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult to determine a person's education level (regardless of institutional experience). I find that smarts indicates passion, which allows for transcendence over class and petty social politics. I earnestly believe that this is how things are done. That being said, I believe that my future life will be a beautiful one, even if difficulties are present. It's just - I don't want to say infuriating - unprincipled that the indulging, drug-addicted, incompassionate sloths whose parents move and shake our world. They will fill their shoes in a degenerative fashion and make at least two figures more than my salary 15 years from now. I suspect my life is marginally less unhealthy than theirs, which will increase my own life expectancy. And much of it will be spent perfectly conscious; I will be perfectly conscious of where I belong in society. I know any ideas of revolution are fallible, precisely because - never tire of knowing and voicing this - humans are fallible. It's like I've checkmated myself. I want free choice to be real but I haven't a clue how I'd go about life. It's almost as if I'd feel comfortable with destiny, but to be able to do something improvised, that history never foresaw, I could take my life into my own hands and make it putty or dough. I could fucking make pumpkin bread, French bread, pastries, fine China. Everything. It was a long day that went well. I'm just so prudent, and we're forced to look into future aren't we? We're a species that thrives off of caution and speculation. I hear my high school classmates and Bentley classmates are stoners. Drunks. Assholes. Whores. Backstabbers. If I were Pope Innocent III, I've have sent my men to their doom, as well as their adversaries. History would be pristine and unchanged. I guess the human comedy is constant - a self-perpetuating tug-of-war between conflicting ideals that change their name over times. We try to recreate ourselves but realize time after time that things have always been the same. Same as it ever was2

1 Blink, M. Gladwell

2 See also: Once in a Life Time, Talking Heads