The Living Ground

Do you think the “N” word should be outlawed?

(Scoffs.) Sure why not. Let’s make race out to be a bigger issue than it already is.

I mean, seriously, though, can’t we get past all this?

I don’t know, maybe it’s not such a bad idea. Maybe people need some help. I mean, those segregation practices didn’t go away until legislature was passed. Do you think people would’ve just stopped doing those things in time? Maybe this is a logical next step.

No, it’s not. It’s ridiculous. Outlawing words? C’mon man, words? What’s next? Thoughts, that’s what. Then instinct. Then pre-cog. Then life source. Then procreation. Then relationships. Then personal human interaction. Then social exchange. Then community. Then any form of sensual stimulation. In 200 years the remaining people in our world will be living in 5 x 5 white rooms with walls floor to ceiling with nothing but air and water and some kind of really bland food to eat. Once that generation dies off we’ll be done. Done.

(Laughs.) C’mon, man, it’s not that bad.

Sure it is. Who outlaws words? That’s completely inhumane. I mean, between that and Borat we’re kicking the living ground out from under the very nature of our humanity.

Borat the movie?

Yeah.

What does Borat have to do with outlawing the “N” word?

C’mon, man. Borat and all those other Borat-type shows are totally taking advantage of people who are just living ordinary lives. They do one completely unassuming thing and suddenly they end up on television or in a movie looking like an idiot for being polite or trying to help a stranger or just freakin doing their job, you know? It completely exploits people who are just being humane.

Huh. I see what you’re saying but I think there may be worse things out there. I mean, did you see that school kid in Finland that killed eight? Or what about that guy in the Amish school? There’s a lot of bad stuff that happens but that one really sticks out in my mind.

That’s true. I mean, you’re definitely right. Those are certainly big things. Huge things. I had a dream two nights ago that I was involved in a hostage situation at a school.

Really? What happened?

Well, I was in college. I don’t know where. And I was with my ex-girlfriend (which is strange that she popped up in my dream.) And we were in a study hall-type place with a bunch of other people and some guy came in and real quietly barred the doors and told people not to move or talk or anything. We all sat quietly for quite a while and Chloe—my girlfriend—and I we sitting on a couch. Then I nudged her with my elbow and when she looked over I showed her that I had a silver pistol in my pocket.

All right, cowboy.

I know, right? A real American hero. So then the guy holding us hostage saw Chloe and me looking at each other and thought we were talking. So he sent her to sit under a window and told me to get up and check to make sure the police weren’t quietly approaching the doors. So I got up, checked the doors and then when I was walking back to my seat on the couch—I had to walk past the guy—I pulled out my gun. The funny thing is it was a bolt action pistol; I didn’t even know they existed until I googled “bolt action pistol” the next day. Anyway, I pulled it out of my pocket with my left hand, switched it to my right hand, pulled back on the bolt to put a cartridge in the chamber—and the whole time I’m just looking him in the eye—and then I stopped about four feet in front of him. He was standing by a ping pong table. I raised the gun and fired at his heart.

Dang.

I know. And everything moved slowly. I mean, time wasn’t in slow motion or anything, the bullet just moved slow enough that I could watch it leave the gun, travel the four feet or so and then disappear into his chest. He instantly dropped dead. Chloe came running over and hugged and kissed me.

You were totally the hero.

It’s such a strange dream. Usually my dreams don’t follow any type of chronological time line. They’re usually vibrant flashes of images and sounds. The strange thing is I was looking at some crime scene photos earlier that day and I think that’s what caused my dream. I mean, I’m really not very violent. That’s by far the most violent dream I’ve ever had.

What were you looking at crime scene photos for?

I don’t know. A friend of mine told me they look at them every once in a while just for fun.

What’s so fun about that?

I don’t know. I guess not fun but interesting. I mean, the only dead bodies I’ve ever seen were my grandparents at their funerals and they simply looked peaceful and holy. There’s something about the…I don’t know…stark reality of the crime scene photos. Something about seeing death with no filter, you know? No blurred images. No blacked-out areas. You know?

Yeah.

No filter.