brads_requiem (brads_requiem) wrote,
brads_requiem
brads_requiem

decades and sperm banks

standing in line at the sperm bank, waiting to make my weekly deposit, i happened to glance at the line of males standing ahead of me. each sort of had the swollen look of defeat. mean while any number of women were walking in and out, quite pleased with themselves. a chance at survival is all we were after. the woman were looking for the exact same thing.

do you settle for obscurity? i think i have. sort of excepted defeat. because i'm lazy, or generally too scared to take the next step. in this day and age, it's all about innovation. that's how you make money. than that you must except routine, complacency, and visions of the future are just random stray thoughts, shooting through your brain, faster than you can process them. and then they pass, and a cold wind hits you as you escape from the gas station with a cup of coffee in your hand. clouds moving by at twenty four frames per second. your hair blows back away from your face and your breath heaves out in white wisps. it's good to be alive.

i'm lead down a small hallway with locked doors on either side. the nurse in front of me is holding a cup, which i will shoot my semen into. there's no pleasure here, just a few good pumps and fifty bucks in my pocket. she stops in front of an open door. "how's this?" she asks. i nod in approval, because it makes no difference. "anything to read? watch?" all these questions. i can't help but think that homo sapiens didn't survive this way. though, i'm not one to say no to free porn. "both." i smile, hopeful. she smiles back and tosses two magazines and a dvd onto the small doctor's bed. "let me know if there's anything else i can do." and she walks away. a sudden nurse fantasy flirts through my mind, but i push it away. this isn't a place for fantasy.

happiness is such a bitch. when you don't have it, you want it. when you have it you don't know how to keep it. maybe i'm manufacturing my own chaos. looking for something to whine and moan about. maybe unhappiness defines us, and happiness is just a made up word. something to achieve and work for other than religion, or retirement. i think for me, it's expectations that i haven't met, that cause me unhappiness. the person i want to be versus the person i am. lately though, if i'm not feeling happiness, i don't know what else this could be.

i close the door to the small room, and lock it. the walls are thick but i can still hear the sounds of ooooo and ahhhhh from the room next to me. i pop in my own movie simply because i can't stand the thought of someone else masturbating in the room next to me. but fifty bucks is on the line. so is the future of my genes. i don't know if anyone has ever selected me. what difference does it make? this is my best shot at shoving my genetic failures one generation ahead. and at making fifty bucks. i loosen the clasp on my belt and drop my pants. incredibly there is a mirror in this room. i take one long sad look at the figure staring back at me. even the reflection in the mirror looks better. no other room i have been in has had a mirror. i decide to face the other way. there might be nothing more disgusting in this world than watching one pleasure one's self.

plenty to be disappointed about. plenty to worry about. my 25 grand and climbing student loans. my lack of ambition, or even desire. but goddamn i've never felt better. you start seeing the outcome of decisions made years ago. you start seeing the smallest details in everything, and how one action inevitably, but sometimes reluctantly leads to the next. there's not much to show for six years on my own except my fat neck, and the couch where i used to sleep.

a knock comes at the door, and i'm startled. "everything ok in there?" it's the nurse. "yes?" i reply. i'm not sure what could go wrong. i've never had trouble before. but for whatever reason, i'm just laying on the doctor's table perusing the magazines. in the back are advertisements for all sorts of bizarre bedroom toys. i could never envision purchasing something like this. but whatever makes you happy, right? "ok let me know if there is anything i can do" the nurse says. i thought she had left, but apparently she simply stood there for a moment. listening? wondering? i find a big article in the front about a "violinist" of the vagina. it's about as engrossing as politics, but i'm indifferent. i'm not quite ready to do what i came here to do.

we're about to close out this decade. a decade that has really seen it all in my opinion. attack, divorce, graduation, facebook. 2009 has been a chaotic year for me. as i seek to redefine, or rather finally size myself up i'm quite eager to get a head start on 2010. for what? to do what? i don't know, but i have some optimism for once, and i'm gonna seize it.

the article ended up just as i thought it would. a long narcissistic dissection of one man's superior oral abilities. past girlfriends were quoted and their descriptions were just as lewd as you can imagine them to be. i wonder where they find these people. but i don't have to look far. i suppose if i could have some groundbreaking sexual technique i would appreciate an article about myself. nevertheless it was time to get down to business. just then, in the hallway, i hear a door open and close. the same nurse must have been nearby cause i heard her "i'll take that, i'll take that." i pause for a moment, expecting another knock. almost hoping for another knock. but the usual rap of knuckles against wood never came. i turn my attention to the film, where some muscular bulk of testosterone is heaving himself back and forth against a passionately submissive female. love? never. not in a million years. an industry defined by capitalizing on our most intimate desires. disgusting. i turn it off.

what does all that optimism mean though? where is it coming from? maybe those aren't questions worth answering. if you have it, while try and find the source. preservation comes to mind, or maybe it's just some unquenchable search for truth. everything has borders, but there is always something right beyond the borders, and in those dim gray areas we can find some truth.

i pull it out, and by "it" i hope you know what i'm referring to. i look at it. a mechanism of reproduction, or so the textbooks would have you think. but here i am on a tuesday morning using it for profit. and survival. someone, somewhere will pick my sperm. the sperm will take a long trip down a short tube, first one their wins. it's quite simple really. quite biological. i try and get it going, but nothing is happening. nothing. zilch. nada. i breath a heavy sigh and try and focus on the most beautiful women i have ever seen. she flashes in my mind for just a moment. then disappears. gone, just like all the rest. i try again, but she doesn't come back. i take another deep breath and think about the nurse. but she's too nice. then i rush forth with a slew of superficial male fantasies. but nothing works. i despise myself, my genes. curse you nature! is my family doomed to die with me? will i be the last of my kind?

time to put myself out there, and lose like all the rest, or win like some of the others. time to stop pondering my irrelevant ideas about what i want out of life. time to take on some responsibility and be a man. ah yes, i am terribly excited for 2010.

i've reattached my belt and chalked it up to a nice try. having terrible, terribly trouble for whatever reason today. can't get anything going. not even a half stock. i walk out into the hall, head hanging low, small container empty. the nurse comes by "i'll take that, i'll take that." i hand it to her and she can see the gloom in my eyes of a man who can't run the marathon. "ah well, mr. burns. better luck next time, right?" no comfort. i shake my head in disapproving approval. "maybe next time i'll go in and help." she winks and walks off. i can't help but smile. can't help but do anything but stand for a moment in quiet reflection. what the fuck am i doing here?

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