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An Archon Tale, X Files Crossed With The Basketball Diaries
~Dedicated to Inwood and Uptown
“If they want to win the revolution they must win it with Rasta. You can’t win no other way, because if you win another way, you’re going to fight again… When you’re Rasta, is when you no more war.” ~Bob Marley
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Transport J. D. Salinger’s Holden Caulfield to the 21st century and you get the protagonist of The Terraist Letters. This rollicking journey through NYC, juxtapositions the mainstream, the lamestream and the out-of-stream as the Terraist heroes attempt to bring some sanity as well as medicinal cheer to the urban zombies of today. Ethan’s work will titillate, irritate, but most importantly, stimulate some serious thought concerning current conventions. Give it a read. Your brain might thank you.
~New York Times Best Selling author, Jim Marrs
1
The downtown 1 train rumbled and slowed to a halt at 42nd St. in the middle of hurricane human. The doors rung ‘bling blong’ and opened, releasing a stream of rushing people. Everyone shuffled out and about, transferring to other trains or tightening their coats on their way to the outside cold. Everyone was hurried, on a mission of the utmost importance, as usual. The train’s doors rung ‘blong bling’ and closed. And as the train clicked down the tunnel and people went on their way, the station quieted and two youngsters drumming on buckets could be heard more clearly. The drummers were spinning their drumsticks and rapping on their buckets at a hundred and eighty beats per minute, a few people gathered around them, the beat transporting them away like a train, only inside. When the downtown 1 left the station it swirled behind a windy vacuum, coats fluttered, hair waved and garbage tumbled. Everything was moving. The people waiting for the uptown 1 were pacing to keep warm, the drummers were flowing, everything and everyone was moving, everyone except for Sean Enstitue.
Sean Enstitue was leaning up against the last pillar at the downtown end of the platform waiting for the uptown 1. His hands were nestled in his black leather goose down bomber and his left foot was propped up, resting on the pillar. He was wearing black sneakers, black slacks and a white tee-shirt under his black leather bomber and unaffected by the cold. His clothing was too stiff and heavy to flutter in the gust left by the train and his hair was too short to measure let alone be stirred. He stared straight ahead watching the drummers and observing the commuters with a scowl.
From a distance Sean Enstitue appeared removed and unreadable, but on closer inspection there was anger about him. Normally if not overtly angry or outright jovial, depending on the company, there was that recognizable hint of disdain about him, but today it was obvious from his occasional spitting and muffled cursing to himself that he was infuriated with the world and all its human occupants, at least the nine million directly around and above him. The longer he waited for the train the more tense his lips were and the more piercing his eyes became. After the day Sean had, he felt like everything in society was wrong and demeaning to the very core and wondered what the point of it all was when everyone around him was missing the point.
The day started out fine, but he was unexpectedly called on to go downtown, for work, on short notice. Sean usually liked to mentally prepare himself to go downtown, say across 110th St., but today he went from the 215th Street Station to Times Square without making the usual mental preparations to keep himself from snapping. And because he was rushed and didn’t prepare he hadn’t even considered what time of year it was and what that meant as far as who would be on the streets, yelling and screaming and pushing Sean’s buttons. Sean left uptown unprepared. He fully realized what would be the usual insulting executive chaos and suburbanites on shopping sprees, but because he didn’t have time to prepare, he hadn’t properly considered that it was just after Thanksgiving. He didn’t think about the fact that this meant there would be a Santa Claus begging for change for some corporate charity, with an obnoxious dinging bell, yelling HoHos, clogging up traffic, on every other corner between 34th and 59th St., until he got off the train and was face to face to face with one.
There was nothing Sean hated more than Santa Claus. And there was no problem in the postmodern world that Sean couldn’t directly trace back to the celebration and indoctrination of lying to children, about Santa and otherwise.
Sean sold marijuana for money, so that he could have extra time to think. Right then though, leaning against the last pillar on the subway platform, he was trying to forget about the day and not think. He was trying to forget about his last marijuana delivery he made through a maze of downtown Santa spots. The customer Sean had just linked up with made Sean angrier at the world than he had been for some time, weeks at least. He would have been upset without Santas begging everywhere, they just magnified his stress.
Sean never met the customer before, but knew of him and knew of his condition. He knew his partner couldn’t stand to deliver marijuana to him any longer, because of his condition. But Sean wanted to see him, like people want to see a car accident, but he wanted to see too because his condition was a sign of the times and Sean considered himself a thinker and observer. But he forgot about Santa. He forgot and nearly snapped on the first one to gleefully wish him a merry Christmas as he walked to his delivery. Instead, he just blurted out, “What the f does Santa Claus possibly know about Christmas?” and then quickly moved on.
For more information, visit Ethan on Facebook and check out Ethan’s author page on Amazon.
other Ethan Indigo Titles
- The Little Green Book of Revolution an inspirational book based on ideas of peaceful revolution, historical activism and caring for the Earth like Native Americans
- The Matrix of Four, The Philosophy of the Duality of Polarity on the subject of the development of individual consciousness
- 108 Steps to Be in The Zone a set of 108 meditative practices and steps toward self discovery and individual betterment, including techniques to develop balance, transmute sexual energy and better the self.
