ZETA

Buffalo Zeta. Isn't that the best name you've ever heard? He's the sexist, sexy, no Spanish speaking protagonist of Revolt of The Cockroach People (just read it). I was thinking about ole Buffalo and fiending to do something, to transpose some of him onto me. I wanted to sharpie a tee-shirt with his name, put his genius onto my skin. He's no hero, don't get me wrong. He is political, apolitical, frustrated, derogatory, slandering, womanizing, and generally low. But the thing about Zeta is that he throws himself into every situation with vague optimistic intention. For Zeta, every day is another mountain to climb. I sound like I'm writing an english essay and that isn't the point. The point is that Zeta has this brash, illiterate desire to carve a place for himself in the world. He wants to do something and he doesn't know what it is but he burns through the days in the hopes of doing Something. He's fine as long as he's moving (think LCD Soundsystem, Tribulations [it's alright/as long as something's happening]). I sympathize with that nameless need to do something, to say something, to the world. My professor, brilliant man that he is, was talking about Zeta's resistance to the Grand Narrative. What? It means that if the Universe is blueprinted by a text or narrative (be it the Bible or Huckleberry Finn), than Zeta refuses to buy into those notions. It's frustrating because at this point in history, most everything has been resisted right? I mean throwing off popular societal notions is old hat, a cliche of its own. Whatever. Zeta doesn't give a fuck and neither do I. He drinks his tequila and generally moves like a buffalo- immortal and impenetrable. His eyes were never described but I imagine black ones, endless and unblinking.