Prose

Someone gave me a survey to fill out last year. Below are my answers:

Your experience in the face of terrorism
October 2007
Please fill out this survey to better inform my research on personal experiences with terrorism. Write as much as you are willing!

Type your answer in the given space, or highlight the appropriate answer. Then save the files as [yourname.doc] Thanks a million! J

1. Your Name (optional)
Colin Owens

1. Date of Birth
Sometime in 1973

1. Where do you live?
In a house in Jamaica Plain.

1. Where were you born?
In a hospital on Mission Hill. As you can see, I travel far.

1. What are your religious beliefs?
I believe that people should choose to believe in religion or not, if that’s what they want to do. I don’t seem to have a religion of my own, however.

1. On a day-to-day basis, what fears you most?
My fellow countrymen.

1. Do you ever fear an attack of terror where you live?
Everytime I go to my local CVS. There is a certain inability of the clerks at the register to even see that I am a human being. They pile all of the change on top of the receipt and bills and then throw it into my hand whilst talking to one another. This is the start of terrorism: Apathy.

1. Have you ever witnessed/experienced an event of terror? If so, how did it make you feel? Where were you when it happened?
I seem to just miss these things either by coincidence or by design. I have known people who have been victims of so-called terror attacks. Most of them have thankfully lived. Quite frankly it irks me to find out that anyone has ever sanctioned the death of one or more human beings as an arbitrary act of retribution for another horrible act. If someone bombed my village I would rather have a giant whipped cream cake delivered by B2 Bomber to their village with a note that says: Don’t do that again please, I have enough to do without losing my house too. Thanks, Sincerely‚ Us.

1. If terrorism could be described with a single color, what would it be? In a word?
Khaki

1. What country/countries do you generally associate terrorism with?
The United States, since we are the centrifuge of cause and effect (or this that affect, as in affectation? If so, what is it like to have an affectation of causality?). According to the media it used to be the Palestinians and the Irish, now they’re both our friends. I am guessing you want me to say somewhere in the middle east, but I’m not buying it. Just because we have lifestyle differences doesn’t mean one of us is better than the another. I am willing to bet that’s how people in the Middle East generally feel too. They are, after all, people, just like us.

1. Which single country would you say has produced the largest number of global terrorists?
Certainly the US, since we are the most organized. Is Antarctica a nation? I am sure we can blame them for something.

1. In your opinion, is there a cure for terror?
One set of attributable laws that can be universally applied and universally carried out on planet Earth. That would be a good start.

1. What magazines do you most often read?
We always seem to have a copy of “Us” magazine around the house, so that’s one I’ll read. The other one might be a magazine called “Tape Op” that’s freely posted to music studio engineers. It arrives every two months or so, and it’s a delight to read.

Thank you so much for your help! If you have any photographs of yourself or surrounds that you wouldn’t mind being published in a book please send them along with this survey.

those fucking birds
who sit on the billboards
across the tracks
from the platform

they stare at me
and wonder what
the hell I’m thinking

from the archways
to the platforms
the pigeon is king

not scavenger
but orchestrating man’s
movements with
careful thought and precision

My train was late yesterday
because a bird was
on the track

birth of new meaning
in a packet of crisps
feeds a family of nine
at two in the afternoon

at three fifteen, five birds
envelope a dropped
ciabatta and ham

at four, one albino bird
dances for an audience
at platform six with
no applause

Some bastard bird
tried to trip me up
on my way to the street
I think I saw that beak
before

hundreds of thousands
of people come through
the station everyday

but they don’t live
here like the dancers,
the diners and the
philosphers

I took the wrong bus to
the wrong place.
I knew it.

I wanted to be on that bus.
It was the right bus.
It had the right feel.

the red painted routemaster
sang down the road.

the the wrong road.

somewhere.

I hopped off the
old coach at a
random stop.

It was a hot
thick summer
day.

I like to think
a lot of people took
the long way home.

on purpose.

I passed by a
familiar looking
row of houses.

unkempt grass
yellow brick and
painted doors.

it felt like home.