Sometimes Unfinished Music
Sometimes I am asked to clarify my position
I say I’m equidistant to roil and root.
Sometimes I am asked to qualify what I mean
I say this hand is love and this hand is hate.
Sometimes I wonder what all of this means
I say to myself: I didn’t ask to be put on this ride but I’m going to have to ride it out.
Sometimes I rail
Sometimes I sleep through it all
Sometimes I think in English
Sometimes I think in Spanish
In this way I moved ever so much closer to where I thought I needed to be. What I needed to do to regain some balance in my life.
I turned on my tuneage.
I listened to John Lennon & Yoko Ono’s Unfinished Music Series Volumes 1-3, all three records put me in the mood to do something drastic.
Especially after reading about the making of the records — now that I was weighed down with the knowledge that the heartbeats I kept hearing throughout the latter two records were the heartbeats of their dead baby.
By the time I came to the song “John & Yoko” on Unfinished Music 3, with the repeated and incessant cries of “John,” “Yoko,” and the heaving palpitations of the dead baby’s heart I started throwing books in the fireplace. I couldn’t take it.
I left the apartment and went to O’Hara’s — the Irish pub down the street on the corner of South Miami Ave and 26th Street — it was half empty and dark just the way I enjoyed it. I chose the end most stool by the rarely used back entrance, certain that I’d get some writing done.
No one would want to sit near a television with a screen saver on it, all the action was near the front where the University of Miami football game was blaring.
I ordered the Reuben Egg Rolls — not exactly the first dish one thinks of when one is thinking about Irish pub food.
That is how I got to this very point.
“If people where given the choice between democracy and whiteness, how many would choose whiteness?”
— Taylor Branch, to Isabel Wilkerson / Caste: The Origins of our Discontents