Diapers in the Closet Deja Vu

"I feel like a visitor to this marriage!"-- Morris Chestnut, bad bluejeans shuffle

I remember the user handle Cambaird from years ago, in a more turbulent space of grievance, which must mean I was a member of Yabberz years ago; I do not believe I was banned, as sometimes I am the one who surfed off from sites in a huff, annoyed by the disruption of trolls who couldn't see that my suffering was of the utmost importance. The differential, between then and now, isn't a cure so much as it is biological erosion mitigates intensity. Linda Dezenski is two years my senior, now chastened under a grant for railroad victims within very specific parameters (though I do not believe she has physically departed from Liberty, as they claim, when I telephone to warn them my battle is coming), and she hit these symptoms of our unraveling before me. Plaque psoriasis is a loss of adhesion, and it resided on her right elbow 15 years ago just as it is now perennial and perhaps a permanent problem on mine. She has the resources yet, on the backs of all those rib cages pierced at the point of her sword, to chase after cosmetic solutions, appeasing vanity's struggle with the clock, while I pour pitchers of water over dander, rolling around in scissor tackled knits, investigating which hot spots I'm going to attempt to huddle in, giving retail outlets money I can ill afford while attempting software downloads over trade-ins, a street roller once removed but for a sheer act of will. An eatery on Commerce Square is closer than Joe's Coffee, while determination vacillates between staying closer to residence, the latter retains more possibilities for a commercial pitch, in that space where entrails haven't evacuated my body cavity.

The mobility medical scene in Unbreakable has a sinister suspense. We stay glued to Jackson, in a suspended animation, in his give and take with Robin Wright, the wife of Bruce Willis, superhero of circumstance. In Not Easily Broken, (2009) the white physical therapist is a contrivance, left to hang like a chad on a Florida voting ballot, in an outrageously maudlin narrative, which conveys, nevertheless, certain truisms about the vindictiveness of black matriarchal dominance. No one should have to mark their closure on their prime of life via hazy recall over computer monitors built like television sets with vacuum tubes, watching a second rate actor who seems custom made to play a lizard in a disguise of the human epidermis.