Baby I love You

As a devotee of Morono culture, I went to the Macdonald’s on the corner for a small black coffee and to clear the lungs of damp, musty basement apartment air, before returning in order to get to work on text and image. I love you baby; baby I love you. Does anyone own a copyrite on the words: "I love you,"? Please baby, try to understand.

 

Excitement and anxiety, mind bobbing about like a cork, I guess it’s ok for the mind to get blown around once in a while, manic upheaval, but don’t get silly. Set up guards of the mind. Don’t let thoughts go wild. They could lead you to the place of weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Don’t fall apart.

Be cool on the outside. Don’t let the craziness show. When in this state of mind, say very little. Walk slowly. Don’t make any decisions until the energy subsides. A beggar just asked for change. I gave him some. This Macdonald’s is a good setup for panhandlers. I don’t judge him. It could happen to anyone. Something snaps and the person falls to the bottom and ends up destitute. I’m in a state of free fall right now, although I have a lot of inner resources, which will hopefully slow the fall and enable me to land on my feet.

     

Macdonald's provides free Internet. I sit upstairs at a plastic table, open the computer, connect, pause and then send an email to my sister:

 

“Woe is he or she, the end may or may not ever happen. Nobody's sure if there even was a beginning, but that doesn't stop colleagues from picking at each others sores." 

What kind of message is that? Delete. Start again.

Look around at fellow users of this spacious eatery and its panoramic view of a busy street. Feel the connection with people from various walks of life. Mostly retired, unemployed and students hang out there, while serious eaters usually eat downstairs. Upstairs is more for people to sit and enjoy the background music. I put in ear plugs and read a book, but the music makes it difficult to concentrate. It's hard to tune out, that endless, insidious drone. This is not the first time I grumbled about it. I must be turning into an old fart. 

Fast food restaurant psychosis, nonstop dribble of music, endless Morono lyrics, perpetuating restlessness, sentimentality, hunger and itch; in pop culture, one can never be too trivial. Platitudes rule, don’t mock sugar-frosted emotional overlay. Icing on the cake is what counts. 

Ok, I'm here to get out of the apartment and to be among people. I once complained about the noise, at a different cafe and the man behind the counter was offended and explained that I was in a cafe, not a library. If I want to read, I should go to a library. I happened to be in a cafe. In cafes, one plays music, because people like it. 

Ok, smile, surrender to the background music. Listen to what they're singing. It’s a small world after all, made for you and me. Let’s join hands and love one another. Baby I love you. Don’t be cruel. Love me or else I’ll hate you. That’s what the music recommends. This love will last forever. I believe! Yeah, baby! Some people wait a lifetime for this to happen! Oh, baby!!! Love, mmmm ooo yeah. What could possibly go wrong?