The Goldfish Piece

I got this fish.

A goldfish, you know? His name is Dave, Dave the goldfish. And all he does. All he ever does, man, is swim in his bowl. That's his whole life, that bowl. And he's swimmin'. Swimmin' around and around in his bowl. Around and around in his bowl and I thought…

Hey!

My man the fish needs a change, a new look at his life and the life that exists around him. A piece of greenscreen behind that little castle that sits atop those colored rocks that line the bottom of his world and that little castle, man, the one that he never seems to use (at least he doesn't seem to use it while I'm awake).

And I thought I could take him to Marineland or something. A trip to his own private gene pool to see his ancestors and brethren. A higher link in the foodchain of fishlife.

Or out on a boat. Looking bird's eve view wise at my buddy bud's homeland.

A new bowl perhaps? A larger than large, tank type, mansion sized lake of a cage with room to move, man. With room to scoot.

And then, captured in the moment I flashed away, man. I went to a mindspace where all fish are equal and freedom is the only buzzword and people (humans, you know?), we should be kinder to the souls of the sea. And I thought, man…fish need help. My fish needs help. And me? I'm the type of guy who could…I mean, I am just the kind of guy who could help fish and people band together in a life of love and honor. A whole wide world where nobody has to worry and time alone will be in charge of everyone and everything that we happen to…

And then it hit me.

Hey, fuck it!

He is just a goldfish, man…



(Mar. 1996)