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Nomatic Folk No.3 p.9-10

Sickness (part 2)

by Fly Johnson

Sunday 1 January 1995 (Date of earlier publishing: 1 January 1995).

I went over. I held him in my arms and he held me back. We finally started talking to each other.
Flashbacks of what, when they came to evict you?
No not even that. Before that. It was hell before that. We were supposed to have a community space too. All people ever did there was drink. No one gave a shit about anything, anything but themselves. All the other stuff was just talk.
That’s what I mean Spike. That’s all I was saying is that we have to make it more than talk. We need to live it right now.
I loved that place, we used to have metal jams on my floor, you don’t know how beautiful at sounded.
You can do that here too.
No that’s over with, I need to move on. When they came for us, Avenue D was full of police cars as far as you could see. They had automatic rifles shotguns, riot gear. Dogs to sniff us out of any hiding places. It’s bullshit when people blame those two for the eviction. They are already breaking down the door and no one else was doing a thing. Everyone had said before that when they come to get us, I’m going to do this or that and in the end they did nothing. The two that did the things that all the others said they would do were left out in the cold. They were blamed for everything.
That’s fucked up. I remember last summer everyone saying I’m going to drop a piss bucket on them, there will be a street battle if they come to evict us. No one did a thing except for those two. They probably thought everyone would join in. It’s fucked up to blame them for the eviction. The blame should be on everyone for not making it clear which way they wanted to go.
All these ideas you have for this place are your ideas. They’re your dreams they’re not mine.
Listen, I may have written that piece of paper and it may seem that way, but even those ideas are not my own. I’m just a writer and it is only a piece of paper. I want for us all to use this space to create with. I’m not telling you what to do. Do what you have to do here, be creative. Lets just not cut each other’s creative ideas, each others dreams down. The only idea behind the school is that we should use this space to learn from each other, teach each other and create with each other.
Khunta says, listen Gentle Spike, we should all write pieces of paper like the one Fly wrote. I have my own ideas for this place. There are a lot of things I want to do here. You may have different ideas, dreams, plans, but we’ll work on them together. Together we’ll make sure that this isn’t a place where all people do is get drunk.
And the three of us stood there on the six floor of La Casa Popular and we were glowing, glowing with light. And we were healthy. We knew it was time to open up the door.
But now I knew Gentle was in pain and I could feel it. All we could do was wait. We died in the Tombs. I was with Darrius, Khunda was in the cell next to us and Gentle was in a cage somewhere else in the depths of the Tombs.
I’m hungry, my stomach is growling. We haven’t been fed in a long time. We missed a meal waiting in the paddy wagon. Darrius says, I could eat. I’m so hungry, if I had some salt I could eat your shirt. They pass by with two bins of cheese and bologna sandwiched. Yo CO, I could eat. We haven’t eaten in twelve hours. No response. We wait. I could eat.
Darrius says I finally understand my roommate In DC. I used to think he was crazy. All he would do is sit around all day and eat. Eat and do push ups. He would do every kind of push up imaginable. He was in jail for two year. I really understand him. Yo when I get out of here I’m going straight to the west coast. Then I’m going to Hawaii. Maybe I’ll spend the winter in a jail in Mexico. He laughs. I wish I was doing drugs right now, smoking a fat blunt and drinking a forty.
I wish I was too.
He says the first thing I’m going to do is play video games. His only addiction, bad habit. He once dragged me over to Houston to help him get his fix. At first I was sure he was talking about dope and he promised me it wasn’t. It turned out to be this stupid video game Street Fighter. I had to laugh.
Man, you. got to really start doing those karate classes. Quit with that stupid game. Do the real thing.
I know I have to do that, but I can’t. I don’t have a place to shower. I don’t have a place to stay. I spend too much of my day thinking how I’m going to eat.

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