John Grochalski

by Horror Sleaze Trash on November 7, 2013

ypicjf6zzp59tsqy8qnv

boycott you

 

in his bitter end

jack kerouac became a racist

and an anti-semite

 

he went on tv and blamed his jewish friends

for everything

 

the same can be said for eliot, wagner

degas and crazy ol’ ezra pound

 

picasso drove two women to madness

two others killed themselves over him

 

and ernie hemingway pushed through four wives

and two fucked up sons

before he finally took a bullet to his head over breakfast

 

on video i’ve watched bukowski kick his wife off a couch

over and over and over again

in a fit of drunken jealous rage

while norman mailer tried to kill his wife

 

hell, caravaggio and ben jonson actually did kill people

 

villon and genet were thieves

and rimbaud ended up nothing but a smuggler

 

nabokov wrote lolita and lord byron fucked his half-sister

of course flaubert paid to fuck little boys

 

dickens, the immortal charles dickens

for all of his philanthropic work

chuck had a taste for the whores

just like vincent van gogh

 

and those are just the men, ladies and gentlemen

 

let’s not even get started about what virginia woolf

put leonard through before

before she took a pocketful of rocks to the river

 

the point is for all of their blemishes, heinous words

or despicable acts

i wouldn’t give one of them back to this slush pile life

i’d rather their art over their good conscience

and citizenship any day

 

because some of them have given me more light and life

than my family or the closest of friends

 

so to you people boycotting this artist and that

over their personal views

 

orson scott card or whoever you trolls have lined up next

 

someone who’s views aren’t yours

or aren’t the fashion of the day

 

do me a favor and sit down and try to sweat out

thirty novels in as many years

 

or a handful of operas

a symphony or another wasteland

 

hell, try to write out your grocery lists

 

do something other than pounding out your inane

uneducated opinions behind the safe mercy of internet anonymity

 

your dull bullshit in 140 characters or less

 

and then we’ll talk

about who’s boycotting who

 

you motherfuckers.

 

 

coward

 

and then i tried playing football again

for the grade school varsity team

 

even though i never really liked football

 

plus i had a bum left leg

from running through a glass door

the previous summer

 

i still couldn’t lift my ankle well enough to run

but my doctor had cleared me anyway

 

the coaches understood this to an extent

but they needed guys

 

the head coach kept saying to me

you’re coming back right?

 

even though i rode the bench

and drank all of the gatorade when it rained

 

i couldn’t do laps for shit

it was too hot in the full uniform

and my ankle kept giving out

 

the coaches thought that i was lollygagging it

that my leg injury was ultimately bullshit

that i just needed to get tough

 

so they set three eighth graders on me when we ran

 

they trailed me

and tried to scare me into compliance with their chants

 

they called me a pussy and other colorful things

they tripped and pushed me when they caught up

or because i’d finally quit running

 

a few of them got overzealous

 

they would try to get me the next day in school

brushing me with their shoulders in the hallway

 

telling me that they

were going to kick my ass in the bathroom

or at practice that night

 

but nothing even happened

 

when i returned my uniform to the coach

midway through an undefeated season

 

he looked at me as if i were a piece of shit

then he spit on the gym floor and said

 

you’re such a coward, grochalski

you know that?

 

you’re a little girl

we should put you on the cheerleading squad

 

nothing but a goddamned coward

 

maybe i was

but he was a small man in a small school

and at thirteen years-old i already knew that

 

so there was no harm that he could really do

 

and all i could think about

as i tossed him my helmet, my pads

and my high numbered jersey

 

was how free i suddenly felt

to cower or persevere

 

to walk or run as i’d like

 

or waste my saturdays laying on the couch

watching shadows spider across the walls

 

while somewhere else

some other kid was riding the bench

 

drinking all of the gatorade

 

or getting yelled at and pushed around

while he ran pointless circle after circle

in the hot sun and dirt.

 

—-

 

baron munchhausen sits

 

baron munchhausen sits on a chair

near where i’m working in the sweltering heat

 

he says, well,  i got something to tell you

 

then proceeds to tell me how he slipped in the mud

running from the rain

 

i think i need an operation on my left knee, the baron says

 

last year he fell and it was his elbow and he was out for a week

the year before that the flu and another week

in 2010 he had the right knee operated on for the same thing

and missed two months

 

he often catches a nasty one-day cold on his scheduled late nights

 

i wipe the sweat from my brow and look at the baron

i was starting to wonder when this year’s ailment would arise

 

because every time he’s sick it means i’m pulling more hours at this place

more late nights and weekends

more evenings i shrug an apology to my wife before

i hit the bottle to make this shit go away

 

when the baron so much as coughs i get paranoid

 

are you sure you need surgery? i ask

but only because he’s sitting there waiting for me to say something

 

sure i’m sure, he says

even though he hasn’t been to the doctor yet

 

and that’s why everyone here thinks he loves being sick

because most of us avoid the doctor like the plague

 

then he starts talking my ear off about trying to buy

the right knee brace on amazon.com

while he waits for the union to decide to cover his injury

 

when the baron’s done talking about knee braces on amazon.com

there’s nothing that i can really say to him

 

but, wow, what a drag man

although i mean that more for me than him

 

then i watch baron munchhausen get up from his chair

and waddle back toward his office

 

he moves better than i do for a guy on the cusp of his

second knee operation

 

when i turn around to get back to the thankless task

of working this job to pay my bills and help put food on my table

my other co-worker is standing there glaring at the baron’s door

 

she looks at me and tisks

 

says

don’t he know

he’s too fat to be running in the rain

 

 

sundown

 

she says i feel like a slave

pushing this old white lady around all day

she keeps telling me that i’m not allowed to sit

 

there’s a lot of racism in this job

she tells me

but i don’t know why she confides in me that way

 

i’m a white guy

and we created racism out of cotton and sugar cane

 

maybe it’s because i spent an hour

helping her with her resume

typing parts of it and having it emailed to her address

 

so that she doesn’t have to feel like a slave

pushing angry old white ladies around

 

maybe most of us really do want to be color blind

 

and in the bar

where i’m trying to kill an hour after work

this old whore

keeps shouting at the television news, saying

 

i’m so fucking sick of all of these riots and rallies

that occupy business

and this trayvon martin bullshit

like they’re doing it outside her front door

 

so i kill my pint and leave

hedge my bets on the bar up the street

 

but outside there are two black women

in florescent spandex

i’d seen them on my way inside

 

they’re collecting donations

for latoya jackson

no relation they smile and say to the cautious

 

a little girl whose only dream in life

is to be healthy enough

to see the ocean at coney island

although i don’t know why

little latoya would want to

 

because coney island is full of fat russian women in bikinis

and guys like me

staring at the asses of fifteen year-old girls

 

but who am i to argue with a sick kid?

 

only now the two ladies are standing across third avenue

one of them has her hands over her mouth

and the other is yelling at a group of valet parking attendants

huddled under the awning

of a restaurant too expensive for most of us to sniff

 

a group of good old brooklyn white boys

smirking and smoking away another lazy summer

 

while she shouts

i can call myself a nigger whenever i want

i have that right

what right do you have to do it?

 

but the boys answer her

by flicking their smokes and laughing

 

they know their rights like the back

of their soft hands

 

and at the next bar i enter

they are doing the same trick as in the last

screaming at the television

telling the crying visage of trayvon martin’s mother

to go the fuck back to florida

 

they might as well be wishing her

back into the fiery pits of hell

 

and when the president comes on

he says, thirty-five years ago that could’ve been me

 

well, with all due respect, mr. president

that shit didn’t happen thirty-five years ago

it happened last year

 

hell, it happened five minutes ago

but thanks for trying

 

still, i grab my new pint

 

thinking thirty years ago

ronald reagan said

 

it’s morning in america again

 

but then he deregulated everything

and with bill clinton’s help they finally buried the poor

and crushed the middle class

 

on a super bowl commercial

clint eastwood said that it was halftime in america

 

but all i can think

sitting in my second bar

and bracing myself for a new round of hate

as the news switches from trayvon to the economy

 

is fuck you

clint eastwood

go talk to another chair down in tampa

 

because it’s third and long

the fourth quarter with under two minutes on the clock

 

a hail mary from coast to coast

 

and detroit is as bankrupt as a politician

sitting in a sunday pew at church

 

the hate keeps spewing

while the bankers continue to run off with the bounty

 

and all i hope is that little latoya

has another destination in mind

 

because it’s sundown in america

only everyone is still acting like they’re at the beach.

 

 

and he says

 

ninety-eight degrees

eighty in this place

 

this city smells like body odor

rancid food and dog shit

 

and he says

 

it ain’t just about

stamp catalogs, kid

 

there’s a war going on out there

or didn’t you know?

 

a holy war

christians versus muslims

 

world war iii

 

shit, and you don’t

even have a security guard in this place

 

all these kids

you stupid clueless people

some towel head could come in here right now

and blow this fucking place to smithereens

 

hell, i’m in here now

i could do it

 

well, not me

but someone like me with time on his hands

some jew or muslim

 

brothers in arms to the end

only they keep tearing each other apart

like it’s world war iii, man

 

and he says

 

did you know we’re all jewish?

me

you

that little black kid on the news

who got himself shot

 

all of us descended from the twelve tribes of israel

 

bet you didn’t know that either

 

and he says

 

but it ain’t about none of that

because this world is just dirty and sick

 

and if i find out you people

took those stamp catalogs

and are the ones selling them on ebay

for two bucks a page

 

i swear to god

i’ll have your jobs so fucking fast

you won’t know what hit you

 

to which i say

 

ninety-eight degrees outside

eighty degrees in here

 

this city smells like body odor

rancid food and dog shit

 

have mercy on us, sir

please have mercy on the damned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previous post:

Next post: