Direct Order

Today was … progress. I got up incredibly early and crossed a couple of things off of my To Do list. Had an interview for Superior Energy, which was promising until they called me saying that my second interview had to be rescheduled to next Thursday! I am pretty much at that point of desperate that I’m seriously considering applying at the Supervalu across the street from my house. I guess it wouldn’t be a wise choice, considering I’m probably going to find something else within 2 weeks. That wouldn’t be awkward going in there to shop for groceries… ‘Hey! I worked here for 4 days, then quit! I’m an asshole!’

Other than the interview, I got some general running around taken care of. Paid some of my student loan (my funds are diminishing too quickly), did a massive stack of dishes, made a huge amount of pasta sauce, froze the pasta sauce, went to Taylor’s for The IT Crowd/free laundry, hung with my rat, and cleaned my room. I feel pretty accomplished!

But enough about me. I think I’ll share a little something with you. 

Here you have it, one of Awmb’s favourite pieces of writing. A poem if you will. I’m warning those grammar freaks out there, I’m not putting spaces between the lines because it would take up way too much space.

You have been given a direct order to rock the fuck out. Rock out like you were just given the last rock and roll album on earth and the minutes are counting down to flames. Rock out like you just won both showcase showdowns. Rock out like the streets are empty except for you, your bicycle and your headphones. Rock out like your lips, which are placed onto a breakdancing muse with legs that go all the way up. Rock out like you’ll never have to open a textbook again. Rock out like you get paid to disturb the peace. Rock out like music is all that you got. Rock out like you’re standing on a rooftop and the city’s as loud and glowing as a river below you. Rock out like the plane is going down, there are 120 people on board, and 121 parachutes. Rock out like the streets and the books are all on fire and the only way it can be extinguished is by doin’ the electric slide. Rock out like it’s Saturday afternoon and Monday is a national holiday. Rock out like somebody’s got a barrel pointed at your temple saying ‘Rock out like your life depended on it, fool,‘ because it does. Rock out like your eyes are fading but you still got your ears. But you don’t know for how long so rock out like 5 o’clock time, make pop-in-lot time. Rock out like you got pants full of tokens and nothing to do but everything. Rock out like you are the international ski-ball champion of the entire universe. Rock out like you just escaped an evil orphanage to join a Russian circus. Rock out like your hero is fallen and you are spinning your limbs until they burst into a burning fire of remembrance. Rock out like you’re enslaved in the south and dancing is all that you have to know who you are. Rock out like your dead grandfather just came back to take a drive with you in your new car. Rock out like the table is full. Rock out like the neighbors are away. Rock out like the walls won’t fall but, dammit, you’re going to die trying to make them. Rock out like the stereo’s volume knob is the figure 8 of infinity instead of merely numbers. Rock out like it’s raining outside and you’ve got a girl to run through it with. Rock out like you’re playing football! Football in the mud and your washing machine is not broken. Rock out like you throwing your window open on your honeymoon because you want the whole world to know what love is. Rock out like you just got a book published. Rock out like you just went to your high school reunion to find everyone, even the women, are all overweight and bald, except for the former homecoming queen, who you just found out, got divorced from her impotent husband and only has eyes for.. YOU! Rock out like you just got a date with Heidi Klum. Rock out like a shadow man passes behind you, drops you to your knees. You’re buckling in sweat, cold metal’s pushed to your forhead, the trigger’s pulled and the gun jams. Rock out like you got an empty appointment book, and a full tank of gas. Rock out like Jimi has returned carrying brand new guitar strings. Rock out like the mangos are in season. Rock out like the record player won’t skip. Rock out like this was the last weekend, like these were the last words, like you don’t ever want to forget how.

-Anis Mojgani


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