Meditation

The bus arrived at their destination, a hostel located in Irvine. Joe thought it would be nice to head downward, then over, having San Diego followed by Arizona in mind. That should cover some curious domain he mused, sauntering towards their place of rest. The hostel itself wasn't nearly as despicable as anticipated. Mali and Casey prepped the bed for the nights endeavors while Gordon, Parker and Joe went through their nightly rituals. Gordon pulled a can of Budweiser out of his pack and drained it before Parker had a chance to preach on the matter. He simply shook his head and went on reciting his nightly prayers. "Come on everyone, let's thank God for everything he's given us." Casey shook her head, Mali peered down at her laptop, refraining from answering on the matter for six different reasons she surmised, and Gordon chuckled. Joe was the one to break the silence. "Parker, it is more than obvious that you're a spiritual person. We get it. The idea of this trip is to broaden your horizons a little. To show us new avenues to make us better writers. Why don't you give it a try instead of taking God and inserting him in our every orifice." Parker was taken aback for an instant, but with a little prayer, thought of what God would want. "Alright Joe, but if anyone is ever interested in talking about God, I will always be here. My stories can be about God an stuff too right?" Joe contemplated for a second and came to a conclusion. "Yeah Parker, but try to be more original about it. Hide God in an analogy or two, savvy?" Parker nodded happily, grinning ear to ear. Gordon was already down and out, ready to accept the sandman's gift. Mali had since shut her laptop and changed into pajamas adorned with various cute versions of common animals. she sat for awhile in a pose of meditation before laying herself down, all the while reciting the phrase "without thinking of good or evil, show me your original face before your mother and father were born." Casey quietly stroked Mali's hair, listening and staring out the window. She amused herself with the thought of Gordon attempting to explain the meaning behind Mali's chant. As she gazed intently at the starry sky, Joe sat, pen in hand, attempting to create something wonderful. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep in a seated position, an act he would regret later.

After a handful of hours, Joe awoke rather abruptly. After a stretch and a yawn, he perused the bodies of his compatriots to see their status. All of them were in a deep slumber, except Casey. She was still riveted on the moon, taping her hand on the bed. Realizing she had an admirer, Casey smiled at Joe, happy to finally relieve some thoughts. "Look any longer and you might burn a hole through me." Joe's face turned flush, and even without light, Casey was aware. " Don't worry, I know you didn't mean anything by it. I just had some trouble sleeping so I started thinking about things that would amuse me. I even rolled the dice ahead to try to piece a story together. I'm sick of these somber stories, hell even I'm responsible for perpetuating it I know, but really, there's a lot more to the world than just the fucked up parts. And even those parts have a funny side. Care to hear what I've got?" Joe nodded, excited at the prospect of enjoying something between just her and him.

So I'm laying there in the store, this textile place on 5th and Washington called Saxons. I'm not terribly old mind you, just shipped from the factory probably a week prior, it's difficult telling dates given the fact that I don't exactly see day and night pass except when the move around the displays. Anyway, it's a hot day, I can tell because every woman that's walked into this place complained of the heat before any other conversation could be started. So I'm watching these mothers fingering each cloth, deciding what would make a nice dress, or pillow or slipper or whatever else they can fashion, knowing full well that I'm probably going to go on being ignored since nobody wants plain white anymore when in comes this obese, disheveled woman, looking like she's ready to arm wrestle someone or chew some tobacco. She walks right over to me and my kind, ignoring all the flowery patterns and decorate designs that populate the rest of the store, and grabs a hold of me. She tells the shop owner, Nancy, that she wants as much of me as she can get. Well lady, if I can even call you that, there is plenty of me to go around. So I get bundled up, thrown on her shoulder and carried to her cozy little trashole nestled in with several other trasholes. She pulls me out of the bag and I can see quite a number of males, all Caucasian, standing around drinking and discussing what I can only decipher as politics as it sounds like nothing but bitching, even though I can make out about every third word. Something about niggers and something something getting in the way something something know their place and I grew bored quickly. What is a nigger anyway, is that some kind of job? Well if you don't like your job, find a new one. What struck me as odd was the phrase "white power." The uttered it a number of time, often starting sentences, ending sentences or making entire statements comprised of the phrase. I'm the only white here, are they worshipping me? I doubt it since that chubby woman has taken to fancying me into something useful. I've never been a deity before, I wonder what it's like.

After carving me into a conical position, fashioning two holes while making a separate robe out of my lower half I couldn't help but wonder what kind of event I was being fashioned for. Some kind of formal ceremony I imagine, there being a stack of my brethren on the floor, ready to be celebrated in,at least I hope. All those beer drinking, bitching men started putting on my brothers and sisters with pride, high-fiving one another, shouting and hollering, I just knew it was a celebration! This big bearded fellow, replete with black leather and studs, slides me over his head and shouts some incoherent babble, ending his sentence with that infamous phrase, igniting a roar in the crowd. Oh! there we go, now I see, those were eyeholes. We started walking through the woods when we arrived at this opening with this huge lower case t. What do they have against one of the best letters in the alphabet? I mean really, it's everywhere, can you imagine a book without it? Hell my last sentence would barely make sense. They're all over the place too, dancing and chanting with fire, the smell of beer everywhere, what kind of party is this? I thought with the robes it would be something a little more formal, but wrong again. By the end of the night, the whole lot of them ended up staining their nice robes and falling asleep in the woods. Some found love, others rest and by the morning my bearer had woke up, packed me off and repeated the same trivial dance. Not a very productive lot I know. This went on for years, them getting louder and louder, then quieter and quieter until I end up hanging up in some antique shop in the midwest with a price tag pinned on me. I don't mind, at least the people in this store have a lot more interesting things to talk about.