THE KID - r.g. vasicek

The kid is a machinist’s son. You can see it from a kilometer away. The broken nose. The hunchback. The cigarette.


If he talks (as rare as it is) you might hear the slightest trace of an immigrant accent. How many fucking generations does it take?

For what?

To erase the past.

The kid is a defector. We all are.

I know I am.

I know what it means to not want this. And yet be grateful. Shit. Most kids on the planet don’t have access to the Internet. Most kids don’t drink enough water. Most kids don’t eat. Yet we complain.

My portal isn’t working.

Barthelme says machines are braver than art.

Warhol says I want to be a machine.

Le Corbusier says a house is a machine for living in.

The kid lives in a motorhouse park.

Texas is Texas with a capital T. Don’t get the wrong idea about Longview. People come. People go. Just not that often. We sort of like it that way. Everybody except for the kid. He talks a lot of nonsense about “defecting” from this “football” reality.

The kid can’t throw a spiral.

Abigail says the kid needs a taste of pussy.

R.G. Vasicek
Michael Frayn