Hobo With
A Library Card: The Movie
Written &
Directed By A Brain Damaged Puerto Rican From The South Bronx
Who Dreams Of
Getting Revenge By Living Well
To whom it may concern a thousand years in the future.
I met a girl from another world far from the city of the
world.
The moment I saw her walk into a West Village supermarket I
saw an aura around her that made me feel I’ve met her in another life. She was
lead by the hand by a strange little girl dressed in a petticoat and blue
bonnet as if she came to life from a package of margarine. It was a brutal cold that gripped New Yorkers
in the season I arrived on Earth. It gave way the next day to spring when I
carried flowers among Villagers and the rest of the state suffering wonderfully
from cabin fever. People crowded streets in their shorts, walking dogs, riding
skateboards and playing guitars in Washington Square Park.
Why I Hate My Life In The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
I lost memories after punches to the back of my head at the
university. The cowardly attack was my first encounter with a Neo Nazi who was
a mediocre painter.
I woke up a roaring train car devoid of life except for a
man in a black hood who sat opposite me. It felt like rigor mortis had set in
when I tried to move my fingers.
The man looked up with cat yellow eyes and asked wistfully
if I had missed my stop.
I broke free to pry the doors open as the train went deeper
under a dark river.
Years later, I dreamed of being naked under a tree in front
of rolling field of golden wheat while wedding bells rang in the distance. I
woke up to reach for a landline phone. A voice said to turn on the TV. The date
of that morning was 9/11. It was the birthday of the woman whom with I
experienced unselfish love that made me see magic in life.
She had never experienced snow. I promised her a benevolent
storm as went down into the subway. We came out to a near white out over Queens
and the rest of the city.
We played like children until we fell together on virgin
snow.
I thought about her from my dorm room at NYU.
I woke up to an intense light on Sunday. The city was buried
under a blizzard on February 14. I walked past sanitation trucks plowing snow
into mountains. I fell in love with computers at the lab and wanted to switch
from art to algorithms.
Then I received a letter from her. She was crazy in love
with me and wanted us to marry.
Enter The Dorm Nazi.
So much data flooded my damaged brain all I can think of was
what is the point to remember what I have lost in The City Of Rainbow Racism.
She summoned forth the better angel of my nature. Without her, I saw the loss
of true love is replaced by terror.
And there is so much terror across the nations of Earth.
Got hero?
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