Marc Alan Di Martino
Author's Note "Self-Portrait in a New Year's Ball" was written on New Year's Day, as has become my habit. It's an attempt to see what's happening in my mind, let connections make themselves, end up in a place I couldn't have forseen at the first line - much like a year in one's life. When I was a kid I remember my mom won a prize - a trip to Germany! - by guessing the approximate number of jelly beans in a Volkswagen Beetle. My first book, Unburial, was published in 2019 by Kelsay Books. I can be found at marcalandimartino.com/
Self-Portait in a New Year’s Ball
It all comes down to this: What do you want from life? Fame, fortune, prestige? A new house, two cars parked in the garage? A wife who gives fantastic blowjobs? A winning sports team to root for? A sassy hairdo, a pinstripe zoot-suit with gold pocket watch to boot? Study the latest reports, they all say the same thing: the future is a monastery full of polished skulls arranged in pyramids tourists ogle. Go ahead, take a selfie with yourself at forty, fifty, sixty-three—see what the decades do to your face, see how they return your smile in an empty envelope marked, “WE CARE.” See how austere Venetian palaces topple like sandcastles at the slightest lick of a wave how the cosmos flicks the marble-sized planets around and around this lazy star you call home. The latest reports lay it all out in punctilious detail: the future is a snakeskin lacking the snake. It’s a Happy Meal hidden in a haunted house. It’s a Volkswagen Beetle full of jelly beans. Can you even approximate their number? There is no prize if you do, none if you don’t. All there is is the is.
©2020 Marc Alan Di Martino
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