To do Art is my Cure to fight everything that exists!
Man is born free but he is in chains every where said my Iraqi Arab friend making fun of me while we were having conversations on the dinner table then there I go a free man outside where the Darkness rooms all over the streets as I walk down from my home through the N Florida Avenue to Nebraska streets under the shimmering stars of the night above the gloomy sky, all quite and deep in silence as that of a man who long forgot how to breath the freshness in the air.
Hey papi, said one negro to me as I approached a store to drink something as mouth was dry and I was sick of drinking the tap water all day long
They close at 8:00 pm he said bluntly, who? The dollar general he nooded and off I go while holding the cigarette in my hand puffing, rebelling against the whole notion of this plague that has destroyed the normality of my days and night
The negro was riding the bike there he goes in loud voice far away and scream go down to Nebraska street they are still open
Off I depart cursing the Nebraska street filled with emptiness and intolerable silence the streets were no longer used to be like that
Oh Florida the alpha and omega, the mighty nights I spend roaring with my Latin friend not long ago comes to my friend what happen all of a sudden a certain outbreak of destruction. Cars went by one by one unlike before not so many but a few, I came out for a walk for I don’t care what disease or evil is out in the streets enforcing us to stay at home suffering from Bordom
The visions of American streets, the great American jazz engulfing my mind when I first kiss a black girl. What a sweet delicacy
What? The Who? The great American jazz music exist because they exist. Is this the end of the world a virus, a disease will end my life for which the whole world is mourning about. I have my art to fight every evil in this world. There on the streets of Floribraska I walk down to the 21st street in Tampa heights. I found a liquor store open then decided to walk inside, pick up a bottle of water and drank to its last sip and turned my hand to the brandys and beers and vodka, this is not my thing to do I get on to the counter paid for the water and the cashier said the limit is 5 dollars here take this dollar vodka shot and the person next to me go for it
I looked at that women and reminds of me what jack Kerouac has written that never to get drunk outside of your home since I have no joke I have no intentions to go deep into that thought
So I paid and get out lit another cigarette with Harlem streets jazz on my earphones takes me back to New York when I walk the Bronx streets and the Brooklyn streets, the Jews and the coldness of weather, the wariness I feel at Times Square streets here we had champagne what a strange world that whole beautiful magical city is locked down oh New York! Oh Florida what on earth we had come through
I had my art I must express and survive this plague for I have a lot to tell the world. The inhibited uncensored expression of the self. The on going war of art and human expression of will and power, this is not the end of the world, I am all alone on this night on the floribraska streets, my cure is my art we must live and die together. We must shock the world and leave our mark this is not the end oh flowery roads of 7th Avenue there I walk to my lovely old historic Ybor district the rusty old brownish tiles that makes a building stand so firm for years telling tales of Spanish and Italians who established this great estate of cigar factories and earn theirlivilihood
Oh the Iraqi guy who wants the new version of Islamic French writer Voltaire or revival of Islam we drink talk shit for hours and hours outside the Floribraska Avenue walking down On the streets in middle of nights just to tell me that he is in love with an morrcan girl but his pride stops him from confessing but I didn’t tell about my Jordanian girl
Oh! These middle eastern women why are they so beautiful with their hook like nose and pink drowsy lips. this and there and that and of what we talk about is all a rhythmic ocean filled with ideas that has the power to change the whole course of mans existence
We talk about how there is more than one version of reality and he will tell me about the fault in Camus writings and I was always defending nihilism we kept on talking until we feel so tired of each other arguments and we went to bed