:::The music fades in:::
woooooo!
:::Jake is dancing energetically like a he was double, or maybe even triple jointed:::
woooooo!
If you wanna make the world a better place
take a look at yourself, and make that . . . CHANGE
wooooo!
I'm lookin at the man in the mirror!
I'm askin him to make a change. . . .
wooooo!
:::and now we fade to another scene:::
Reed.
Forehead cupped in his hands, elbows firmly planted on his knees, feet grounded into the floor, sitting in on his toilet lid cover, not because he has any business there, but because that's where he feels he belongs at this moment.
A ceramic shattering shout roars as his head erupts from its cradle, his arms reach up and open, and his anguished face clenches at the bloody red sky of his mental dungeon, eyes clenched shut to protect his senses.
Slowly the eruption subsides, body relaxes and slumps, face slackens, as the breath slowly seeps back into the body. And then a long long sigh.
After some timeless lapse, he rocks to his feet, and wearily saunters to the mirror, plants his hands on the rim of the sink, and leans forward, feeling the grounding from the heel of his palms, through his elbows and up to his shoulders, as he lets the rest of his body sag. And stares deeply into looking glass portal, into the person staring back, deeper and deeper. . . . minutes, . . . stares . . . maybe even hours. . .stares. . . What is he thinking?
In a message dated 2/24/99 9:03:53 AM Central Standard Time, konsler@ascat.harvard.edu writes:
>Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 16:22:21 EST
>From: LogicNazi@aol.com
>
>You don't make much sense to me, Reed. And I am begining
>to suspect that you don't make too much sense to you either.
I weep a single, symbolic tear, in tribute to the depth of your insanity. I'm impressed with your stamina. I wish I believed that it's purpose were good.
There it is. You have made me cry. But I do not submit. Indeed, the tear itself is simply a gesture to you, to show that the depth of my understanding encompases even your primitive mind.
Such is all I have to express my frustration, because I am not a violent person.
You will lower your eyes at the same time I do. And don't ever delude yourself into thinking you've won...because if I find out about it, I'm going to (metaphorically, of course) eviscerate your feeble excuse for an intellect again.
God help me! Give me patience in this my hour of need. Hold me from striking in anger, and let me return only love.
For your sake.
Believe me.
Peace and love be with you, my brother. May your life be fulfilling, bright and full of sweet happiness.
:-)
Reed