Monday, September 21, 2015


This piece was originally performed at the Jade Lounge in 2015, at an event called MindMeld with Mark Savage.  Everything was green.

      by Jason Squamata

            My name is Jason S.
            And I have a serious problem.
            I’m a recovering accomplice.  A belly-flashing beta dog.  A compulsive sidekick.
It’s been three months and eighteen days since I last wore the tights, did the flips, threw kung-fu moves at deformed gangsters and their bumbling henchmen.     
            My fists no longer smash your screen in explosions of pop art onomatopeia.
            I no longer instinctively leap into some kind of action when the corporate logo of my old mentor stains the sky like an angry omen.
            It’s been four months, one week, and two days since I was last tortured by a maniac, which used to happen all the time, sometimes…consensually.
            It’s been two years, eleven months, and twelve days since I last traveled through time and kissed a robot princess with silver feathers on the dark side of her moon.
            I haven’t facilitated the saving of the world.
            I haven’t punished the guilty to somehow save the soul of a city.
            I haven’t piloted a giant robot with desperate finesse to rescue a dying god who called me friend.
            I’ve just been getting by, mostly.
            And let me tell you, after all my fetish-dipped mind-bending adventures, up past my bed-time in strange outfits with spooky older men, the quaintly constrictive physics of the quotidian day by day have shown me a different kind of wonder, a story as rich in its quiet way as the myths I used to live.  This sober, adventure-free life is truly the last alien planet.  That’s what I tell myself.
            That’s what they tell us to tell ourselves, we who have the syndrome, but it isn’t really true, is it?