Forrest's Biogrophy by Peter BD

forrest muelrath is in vermont right now
he is in a cabin
he's thinking about it all
he's thinking about his life in brooklyn
he's thinking about his past
he's thinking about his present
he's thinking about running away from his problems
running from his problems fast
he is a teacher and a student
of the f. muelrath class
where the written word is taught
there's no room for math
or science
or spanish
no room for anything but his thoughts
his hopes and fears
his anguish
his salty tears
manipulating the english language
in ways that make sense to him
that's the hard part
trying to transfer the thoughts that are in his head
into the written word
sometimes he feels like things are better just
kept in his brain
things are less tainted that way
other times he blacks out
and writes something that makes him super proud
he reads his words and it's like he's high
floating on a literary cloud
he imagines himself being in the times
times reading fans going wild
then he's like 'that's not my style'
and snaps back to reality
and wonders what else he'll compose for the newspaper
he writes for
'a real people's publication'
he thinks to himself
while grinding coffee
and smirking
forrest's vermont
forrest in his natural habitat
forrest in the forest
the place where forrest can unwind
where brooklyn doesn't exist
where he doesn't have the urgency to do anything
he can just drink in a room
alone with his thoughts
alone with his words
along with the trees and the birds
thus here mr. muelrath is
rolling a cig
ruminating over the absurd

she sat in this yoga pose thinking about the guy who was directly across the room from her. his form impressive. his demeanor calm. his face handsome. she wanted to go up to him and ask him out but she already had a husband and 3 kids at home. she couldn't risk her seemingly perfect family life all because she wanted to have a love affair with this brooding stranger. but at least she still had her fantasies.

he sat behind him and wandered how his form was so good. he was jealous because he just started yoga like a week ago and barely knew how to touch his toes and here this guy was executing the flying lotus effortlessly. he thought about beating this guy up because of this after class but didn't want to hear shit from his probation officer.

she thought he was cool and had cool hair

he reminded him of himself when he was a young man. the positioning of his body. the scruffiness. the peaceful solitude. the serene anxiety. it was like he was looking at a mirror of his past. for sure this young man was a writer. perhaps he was a poet? he was almost frightened about the weirdness of it all. whatever the case the older man kept a sharp eye on his younger self.


forrest was ready to do something else after writing an article for the canarsie courier. the article he wrote was depressing and he needed to shake it off. he goes to his local bodega and buys a coors. he walks back to his apartment, drinks the coors, and decides he doesn't want to be in his apartment. he gets on the train and has no idea where he's going. he gets off at a random stop and walks around a neighborhood he's never been in. forrest walks by someone he went to goddard with and hopes they don't recognize him. he thinks this other alumnus recognizes him but also doesn't want to chat which relieves forrest. he ends up at a container full of books and peruses the outdoor section. he walks in and finds no one holding fort. he sits down and begins reading a book about something that he's not interested in. he reads the book and also thinks about a girl who he loved and wonders what she's up to. he thinks this girl was maybe his soulmate but maybe she wasn't. everything is going to turn out well for forrest but he can't see this because that's hard to do for some reason. he drinks some of his coors and stairs outside of the window at two people slap boxing. he wants to go back to vermont.

×Peter BD is a poet who was performing a lot around the time he and I met. The first time I saw him, it was at this bookstore in Brooklyn called Book Row. Book Row is kind of like the neighborhood barbershop for people who like books. We would hang out, make jokes, eat pizza,dink beer,and talk about books.. Peter was the only one in the store when I walked in.  We kinda recognized each other and started talking. He ended up doing most of the talking, because after he learned my name and got my social media handles, he started, in a way interviewing me. As we finished he, told me he was going to write a story about my life and email it to me. About six months later I got the above in an email.