Brian P. Katz
from "A Commentary on Self as Someone Else"


There is a corpse of unrecognizable people lumbering to their graves.
This is my life:

a hard two-by-four of incongruous distinctions manifested by a triumvirate of cats and a clique of individuals that make up this whole vessel of bowls.

I am being slugged on the noggin by this tactless billy club.
I move from Brooklyn to the Valley in order to be with my wife.

I live in a pit of suburbia, a basin of fast-food and strip malls caging small, characterless pockets of urban sprawl.

I will never make fun of New Jersey again.

I live in a pocket of third and fourth tier Hollywood types — people who do the credits, hosts of cable shows, secondary characters on sitcoms, f/x creators, make-up artists, and Scotty from Star Trek.

I am surrounded by a mall that is surrounded by a mall — in fact, the whole Valley is a shabby, poorly built, overheating mall — of useless shops that I'll never patronize and will probably never discern among all the gaudy signs that sunglasses cannot even protect — there is an awful glare to this terrible polish.
I long for the web of uneven streets, unjust destiny, and characteristic flaws.