colts vs. saints.

acne-faced white girl was high as shit. don't know why i sat down next to her, but i did. "that's just cold air!" she screamed at the bus driver. "can you turn on the heat? i can yell louder if you want!" she and some blacks were bustin' up. black kid to my left yelled, "i'm black! i'm used to tropical climate." he cracked up, and so did white girl. i stared into the brief wondrous life of oscar wao. this was the problem with living in a melting pot. i was a filipino reading a dominican book, sitting next to a blazed-as-fuck white girl, and a black kid to my left. none of it had any meaning.

"you know whats great about living here?" my uncle said. we were at a mall, greenbelt 5, just walking around. it was my birthday. "there's no blacks, no whites, no mexicans..." i braced myself for some sort of underhanded racist comment, but then i realized, i didn't give a shit anymore. goodbye, idealism. so long, liberal values. farewell, equal rights and social justice and volunteering and making an effort to try and be a good guy and make the world a better place. where did any of that shit get you anyway? "you can say whatever you want, and it don't matter," my uncle said. but you don't need to be an expat to do that. you can just blog.

white boy was dressed like a broke joker, and he stopped at the seat in front of mine. he overheard an older black woman talking on her cell phone. "oh, you know the score?" "no," she said, "just that the saints won." high-as-shit white girl interrupted. "last i heard it was, like, 30-17. it was like n.o. whoever was up ahead. i though that stood for new orleans. it was, like, new orleans versus louisiana, right?" "uhh," white boy said, "it was indiana versus new orleans." "yeah," white girl said, "new orleans won then."

he got back to the black woman. this guy was mad corny, you should've seen him: glasses, scrubby ass beard, grey camouflage pants, oversized red sweater. mad fucking corny, the real fucking deal. and here he was trying to holler at some old black lady. "where you headed to tonight." "going to my aunt's house." "oh, f'real?" "yeah, f'real," she said. black kid next to me was grinning like a motherfucker. white chick next to me butted in. "i heard the score from my boyfriend," she said. "he's working late, and he told me the score."

whte boy must've noticed she was high. it was hard not to. "so, you got any on you?" he asked. "not on me. got some in my room. i don't have the money on me, either." so high her sentences couldn't even follow each other. "where you get it?" "mostly from the eastlake kids. it's hard to find good chronic up here." chronic. couldn't believe she fucking said it. what a fucking noob. "is it good?" "it's decent," she said. out of nowhere, a big black woman said, "excuse me" to white boy. he moved over a little. "you gotta move over more than that, son, you see my size? i can't fit through there." he walked up to the middle section.

white boy took a seat at the back, and we didn't hear from him again. white girl adjusted her sweater and bumped my side. "sorry," she said. i looked into her red fucked-up eyes, and i said, "it's okay." i wished then that i had something to tell her about, something like jesus and salvation, some glimmer of hope to help her through whatever daily shit she had to deal with. must've been some real shit to get fucked up as she was on a fucking sunday night. i didn't bother, though. even if i reached down, deep inside, there would have been nothing.

only my stop. and i broke the fuck out.

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