Richard and Carlos had opposite views on the subject of trust. Richard believed, and openly said, “trust willingly, at all opportunity, to whomever, wherever, again & again even if things go awry, or betrayal occurs, even repeatedly. Trust & never let go of that trust. Be a vehicle of trust. For what damage occurs take responsibility. If your trust is abused, consume that abuse & grow weak but remain strong in trust. Trust is a given, there is nothing anyone can do to violate your trust, because it is automatic & irrefutable. Always at all times, you leave everything on the line. You accept & will process all consequences however good or bad they may be. Never wavering, you trust in all things, at all times, no matter what happens or happened.” Carlos believed, based on a loose translation from spanish to english, “Trust thyself and no one else, neither no one nor nothing has your trust. It is yours and yours alone. Do not trust in her, in him, in them, in us. Son las nada. You trust in you. In you there will never be any form of betrayal. You cannot betray yourself. You give the same kind of irrefutable trust Richard speaks of, except here you concentrate– all what he stretches out– into you and yourself. No one will betray you–they never had your trust for which to betray. Just as people do not have it, nothing else does nor will either, never. You do not trust the ant walking on your leg. It’s not that you expect it to bite. It’s just that you don’t trust it. You will flick it off if you feel like it.” And to which Richard appreciates the ant line because he understands the views of Carlos. And Richard also sees how differently he would treat the ant on his leg. How his body is a vehicle of trust, “And so let the ant bite if it feels like it. I or we will absorb the pain and carry on,” “Carry on,” Carl says again, as he wavers between the options.
In 2018 Bieber retires from the stage. He unexpextedly abandons the tour. He abandons the managers. He leaves behind the sponsors. He leaves his gold watch. He removes the diamond studs & leaves them behind. He doesn’t pair the studs together; he takes them out & casts them away, fuck where they fall it is heard that he says. He doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t reveal his plan. He just leaves. he walks away. “Not that I walk away for good. I am not in exhile. I will return when I want,” and in this sense Bieber frees himself from the simultaneous shared time of uber fame & fortune paired tightly with the concrete of dependents, co dependents, corporations, audiences, & retinas magnetized for a fall or a rise or a fall. “And if I choose to pursue table tennis, or mixed martial arts, or visual art, I will go into the practice fluid, & with the knowledge of this: in order to be taken seriously I must and will practice and achieve until the irrefutable occurs. Just like I’ve done before, perhaps I might do it again, without extras.” And it was all very simple. In 2018 he left the stage. He now with a debit card of unlimited funds, and a license, insurance card, wrapped together in leather sheaves inside a leather wallet, justin walked away from the stage in pursuit of another. God bless your fortune anything is possible.
I’ve said too much already. Are you still there? I’ve said too much. There’s not else left much to say. I’ve gone done run through my vocabulary three times. No more words. Nothing new. Too much. No? Not enough? Too much? A spider bites down on his right testacle. Maybe there is still unpublished words we can publish to make up for the nothing. I’m just not feeling it right now. That’s all. I’m uncomfortably uninspired. I’m using the wrong medium.
“This is the hour,” he told himself. He tells himself as he lights a long skinny cigarette. The end burns & smoke is inhaled. A woman watches him in the distance, her right shoulder lined with red dress leans against the grit of an aged, brickened building gone seen too many nights just like this. “This has got to be it…” the lips tighten & pull to the burning end. His movement triggers a light to be seen by the woman. She sees the smoke rise. He feels the smoke inhaled. Busy. The cloud of his efforts is seen. “That irrefutable thing…” he continues to voice, now inside, out against the wall with the red lined woman now approaching his front. He turns away from her & begins to walk away from her. She pleads for him, “hey mister,” sounds of hastened movement follow, “mister, mister…” He pauses. She pauses. He turns his head. The shadows. She stretches out her arm. Her fist is closed. Her fist uncloses. A dollar bill. The wind takes the bill from her. The man lets it pass. “Thank you, but no thanks, ” the now stranger says as he turns away again. He turns & he tips his hat & he turns, “that irrefutable thing, what is it, what must I do, how must I live to see that day of the irrefutable doing. I rather would die here in the serious calm knowing I’ve out & done pursued it to the best of my ability. And to have achieved and overcome despite the falling short. It’s not my time yet but it will….” & as he walks she follows, “mister….” And at what point will the distractions end. Will it even be a point? Her dress begins to fall & he hears it drop. Bills begin to pour out from her vagina. “Not another vagina story!” someone says. The thing is, the thing about it is there is a concern, “I am concerned. Not so much with the direction but with the options behind me, & the concern of what they would do if I turned around & accepted the things in which the real interest is absent. I am altogether concerned I won’t make it all the way to the promise land though I know we are headed right for it.” Mister….mister….