Agnosticism, represented by loud voices crushed whatever chance of bloom we may have had.

At some point Joseph rose from sleep, his head throbbing with hangover. It was early, 4:36 am. He wanted to watch the sun rise but he could not remain awake for another hour. Besides, he reckoned the city's grip held illumination tight. The sun, when up, hung over steel phalluses wrapped in chrome fashions - the sky mostly soupy. Five minutes of the outdoors necessitated another shower.

The most near star finally pushed itself into Joseph's room; it was thick and shameless in the affection, waking him. In the room, sunlit sky blue and cracking, Joseph came to without the thick residue of sleep, awaking naturally, appreciating the large window's generosity. He lit the pipe that lay beside him near his head just below the mattress resting on the floor. Sitting up against the wall, its plaster chipping, the charming effect of the tobacco's inhalation worked instantly.

Today Joseph visits his neighbor, who lay sick on his couch. His face maimed in an accident, he drank grain alcohol until blacking out. For beer he would talk if you could find him. Nevus, his name, had the reputation of being nearly authentic, albeit broken. Joseph saw no reason to think otherwise.

The two became friends of circumstance, living near each other, sharing cynicism. Another acquaintance who never had money. Cash, at least the accumulation of it, was rare and fleeting. Enough for cigarettes, or enough borrowed for fast food, which could have been spent better, drinking, alternate forms of participation. Rent. Satiation offers romance, which offers affectation. Having no money requires stamina - no romance, no insulation. So I, Ryan B., Joseph's friend and your gracious narrator, walk the street and see the varying classes of our species. Economic classes superficially but at heart lie distinctions between varying qualities of exposure. I've swum the meridian, witnessing death, suicide, anguish, and beaten hearts lacking money more readily apparent, really, than past the thick walls of affluence. Money affords the privatization of suffering.

Bureaucracy mostly humiliates the vulnerable. Without money your sores are exposed so they become more communal, statistic-like. And as Nevus often says, "Who doesn't have a fear of stats?"

The troubled numbers rumble at idle.

Joseph waited in the dim lit reception area for only a moment before Dr. Story Cosmos called for him. She smiled, expecting him, or another like him, though she recalled him from a previous visit. He drank the water she gave him fast, uncomfortable to be staying there. This man and woman engaged in small quarters, who were strangers. She moved to lean on her elbow against the wall and missed, slightly buckling. Embarrassed, Joseph mistook the event for flirtation.

She was his elder. Joseph sat across from her. She was behind her desk; a wall of books decorated the room. She sat accomplished.

"Certainly these episodes in your past of rabid destructiveness and bubbling creativity were symbiotic," her thoughts unraveled the remaining ideas, Joseph was not privy to, "no success, no awards, no brilliant schooling, no early signs of anything. So, where does this leave us?"

"I am the idiot, not you. I've always been the fool." -Joseph

"Anyway, I want you to listen to these recordings, they are for your own good. We have some ideas for you, proven by the success of our other artists, which may enable you to better realize your vision." - Dr. Cosmos

"OK, but it is only my new life and a quest for good and proper behavior, which keeps me from throwing this disc out your window, because being inundated with dung is acceptable but reacting to it isn't. Thank you." - Joseph

"That type of commentary does not help you." - Dr. Cosmos

"Sorry, that person is not me. Rest assure." - Joseph

"We can meet on Monday and discuss the offer, OK?" - Dr. Cosmos

"OK. Could I get some money?" - Joseph.

"Here." Dr. Cosmos reached into a drawer and gave Joseph five large bills.

He smiled.

'Five more days and I would be someone else.' Joseph thought. He remembered his father questioning the good about 'just getting by' and felt more like his life lay behind him, wasted. With age everyone expected more. Lately, to impress and then disappear became more difficult.

Joseph struggled with the raw ugliness of admiration. He saw the world as being full of insects and lizards, killing, employing, licking one another. The idea of sexuality becomes capital; to be sexual was to have a lot of capital. The act of sex, surgically removed from sexuality, was time consuming, required bathing, and was altogether not appealing. It takes a great amount of time to realize and then to implement authenticity.

Not consciously of course, he, like myself, claimed to be authentic, unique. Rather, we mostly mimicked nuance, tone, co modified elements of cultural protocol and retained quick wits to dispel the criticism. In truth, we were content to define ourselves as individuals through consumption. We did not consider this shallow of course; we simply could never exhaust our choices.

Politics is Godlessness. We, by necessity and blind spot, become creatures of faith. Wealth, and then leaders arise as the communities of individuals shirk faith in their own transcendence for the more immediate relief and stabilization of hope, aspirations through economic good fortune. We transfer our potential onto others, in exchange for goods. Believing all the while, governments, monarchies, leaders, corporations, they, will redeem us.

It must be a fear of death, beyond this fear's mythical observance. A fear of the blatant reality - all this striving for knowledge and understanding our biological tools, for continuing the species, To-k calls it being, the experiment of being - that a great dark void appears on both sides of this dialectic of faith, and that is the sheer meaning of nothing, of no meaning. If every facet of a personality is somehow shaped by its surroundings then no one is quite capable of understanding, ever, an uncorrupted view of the world, not even the admired. And further, the potential objective for this experiment is to know whether or not the subject is able to execute the obstacles to his freedom. Isn't the quest for physical freedom just taking it from another?

These were thoughts, which would kill Joseph eventually. No place for transcendents here. Death did not come in the open from another's hands but by self-infliction, by way of siege. Thinkers kill themselves.

Later that night Joseph wrapped himself in the soft silk blanket he had purchased for himself and invited Nevus and myself over.

"Hello Joseph." - Nevus

"Hello Nevus." - Joseph

"You'll be given a deal?" - Nevus

"Yes." - Joseph

"You have no idea how far you are from being something . . ." - Nevus

"The entertainers jeer at too many expectations and scoffingly embrace the recognition -" I quoted Nevus who was often pompous.

" - But you're becoming a beast as well." - Nevus

"I know." - Joseph

Joseph was working on some new poetry he had hoped to publish himself, but it would never happen. Joseph looked into the eyes of those who cared for him wondering why he wished to kill himself. We sit, all happy, in silence. Joseph leaned back in his chair and with slant eyes confessed to me:

"Friend, I am a powerless man." - Joseph

"Indeed you are." - Ryan B.

A lot happens in life because of others. That's what I've been trying to shake. I want a clean life. A new life. I want a new life, but it won't happen. Even the long shadowy myths were eroded away. The cry, I remember it well, "Oh, but how the visage shined." A plain travesty.