Mew

a man in his 30s, purposeful hair, Roger Crook and his medium-sized dog Dr. Katz were unintentionally rubbing up against Miltane Toxtooth, Mew to his friends, on a rail commute into the city. a bit of turbulence brought Roger Crook to an awareness of their proximity. he then began to exploit the situation for all it was worth, obsessively adjusting the hem of his trousers, going for his wallet in his back pocket, going for his watch in the front pocket, anything to accidentally brush up against Mr. Toxtooth. for you see, Mew Toxtooth was gorgeous. this was not in any way Mew's first incident on public transportation. Mew had been trying out a birthday present, reading glasses, glasses which display words, books newspapers, whatever; he was reading Doris Lessing's Briefing for a Descent into Hell for the fourth time, once in hardback, once in paperback, once on an ex-girlfriend's phone and now once on glasses, but of course it was impossible to concentrate with the sexual erosion of his outer membrane taking place. fed up, he turned to Mr. Crook and said loudly, forcefully, "say, what kind of dog you got there?"
the suddenness of it, the force and volume and to at last be acknowledged by this beautiful man proved too much for Mr. Crook who stammered, "it's a... it's a... goh... golden rit... golden retriever," as embarrassment saturated the front of his pants. it would be the most confusing yet not unsatisfying orgasm of Mr. Crook's entire life.
what was so fetching about Mew Toxtooth? well, he smelled great. inexplicably, he always smelled of either caramels, apples, cut wood or rain. when he stank he smelled of beef stew, which smells pretty good unless you're a vegetarian. what else? he was tall but not too tall, 6'4". he was strapping but not too strapping. his face was honest and his eyes were clear. i guess that's it.
Mew had a job at an art gallery. he knew very little about contemporary art. actually, he had a few volumes in his home on art history and they were not neglected. but contemporary art was an enigma, and he didnt mind keeping things this way. he worked for a shrewd middle-aged woman named Gillie Foercastile. Mew didnt really have a job title, some days he just went in and sipped coffee for a while. but Gillie knew the artists would like having him around, to ogle, and subtly she had landed some big accounts while he stood sipping coffee.
"what do you think Mew? should i sign with Gillie here?"
"oh yeah, Gillie takes good care of us."
Mew liked helping the artists, doing the grunt work, helping the professionals from the moving company, putting nails in the walls, climbing ladders, changing lightbulbs. he liked these tasks. he liked that his job consisted of tasks, he did not want an occupation, a career.
some people assumed because he was beautiful and had this weird job that he was lazy and/or screwing the boss lady. he was not lazy and he was not screwing the boss lady. he was lucky to have found himself in the employ of Ms. Foercastile who was genuinely not interested in sexual power games. she had three kinds of vibrators for times when her mind strayed from her business ledger. she epitomized shrewdness and the artists in her fold loved it, every penny accounted for.
who was beautiful Mew Toxtooth screwing then? one of his artist friends had set him up with a figure drawing class which met once a month. it would be Mew and a bohemian free spirit-type girl. inevitably, Mew and the model would hook up for two or three weeks and then something would come up in her life and she would have to move to Boulder Colorado. Mew thought that someday he would have to visit this Boulder Colorado. would everyone be naked?
"what do you think Mew?"
Mew had no idea what he was looking at but it looked runny. maybe it was made of gravy? but then, as always happened if he knew the artist pretty well, he saw the artist in the piece, not so much in a figurative sense, but he saw how that artist was made of gravy.
"i see how you are made of gravy," he said.
"thanks Mew."

Lurching and Lace

Part ten... mellows/hollows...
A breathe from subtle underlace/ a dart for each of your cousins/ uh... to play in the yard with/ in the hog-tied moon of summer//
plactitious tublinique... flambivealanche was huh? Curdled tummy bricks/ ouch fell down meow banks onto crisscross, scattery bastard, skittery flinch/ don’t blink cuz three times the twine will hold your arms oust/ weathered crackles, wyoming cackles at odds with leaning trumpets/ frelightud by spanking new cousins/ theirs was landed out by the banks of was-mine river// mellows was inching on two hobbled branches/ tippy toe on stretched skins/ that is, he’s a drummer./ hollows was tooting the night’s carnal humanitarianism/ he was squeezing it between on-looking gasps/ that is, he plays sax/ that is on-lookers were bemused like/ the asphalt sounding board was splattered with renovated gurgles.//
Sketch book for skipping out clams/ you pinching fucker!/ salad-ways address for hefty mandarin organisms/ jame! Slap me a two-tinned maul of Jeffricho and I’ll puppet two handsome cabbages your weight./ oh button, you’re so android. I cant even fly!/ oh cousin, you’re ducking the Presbo-techrian fame./ the fence of gladys will hem you, hen./ our free ballads will tattle/ our firey hues are not forward with regal stomachs-lite... chests of dwarves/ tiny men trapped in prose/ the pose froze... slender/ like apologetic soup/ like apples if they could be singular/ solo strong and electron-free./ ice really frames a leave-me-be/ & frost is that shield./ you might wish for a genie.
Part eleven... walter is curled up for huge...
There were two buns that stayed whole, there in the window, there below the water line. A tourist, a woman sitting on the submarine and walter wondering when the serious people would stop talking to him. Pinching his ears, with their intent to rob him of his meaninglessness, and the black-hole in his refridgerator. She was sandra coomer nee blundtine, she was a meteorologist from Yoma Beach, Jankinfrassis in southeastern Ameriquarius. Quite pretty, like a new pie still steamin, smellin lemony. She smelled lemony. Walter was watching her pet the dolphins. Dolphins can smell dementia in human beings, when it is ripe, when it is rotten. These dolphins had rainbows in their eyes and walter really wanted to ask sandra about her jellyfish earrings. Or her bellybutton piercing with the ever-so-tiny satellite dish. But these jackasses were talking about the submarine. And neglect to mention the whale mucous in the hull. Which makes everything extremely fast in water. Whales talk much faster than humans, so fast it sounds slow and low, but whales talk very very fast. Annoy each other and are actually very dumb. But majestic, movie stars of the sea. Great ridiculous forces of the sea, everyone notices, but it does no one any good. Save the whales. Yes, save them.
This submarine was mapping the ocean floor. Someone had figured out that the way to go deep in the ocean where the pressure would collapse oneself, was to go equally fast as one is deep, some mathematical proportion I’m sure I wouldnt know; but the way for this not to be dangerous, zooming around underwater in limited visibility and going too fast for any real crisis-aversion-quick-thinking anyhow, was for everyone in the crew to collectively not give a fuck. The submarine would simply find crashing to be boring. The same person who figured out deep=fast also discovered that submarines are sheep thinkers. Not inclined to the radical climate of deep sea explosions. Unless someone else thinks it is a good idea first. This sycophant phenomena applies strongest to submarines full of whale mucous, which is convenient as these are the only submarines capable of ultra speed deep sea diving.
Finally, walter blurted out “please wontchu tell us about your jellyfish earrings.”
To which sandra replied, “you go dancing? I could eat a sandwich. I got these earrings from my daddy Cinnamon Cherrycola. He’s a weather dancer in Jankinfrassis.”
“Don’t they sting you? What are they swimming in?”
“They wont sting me, I’m their god. Jellyfish are like your monks or nuns, they need no brains because they just pray all day. They need no brains to remember their prayers because it is always the same prayer. Every jellyfish has a different prayer, and that is their motion, what they are doing, that is their prayer. They arent even swimming. They arent even getting wet. When you experience a sting with a jellyfish, it isnt stinging you, you are stinging yourself, because something you thought was impossible is becoming real in your mind. Like those people in the bible who experienced sudden death, turning into pillars of salt or touching the arc of covenant and so forth. Something impossible became so real that their lives were swallowed up. These jellyfish arent swimming around my ears, they are praying to me. Let’s go dancing.”
Walter and sandra went dancing. They danced very fast but also did a special slow dance where they took turns pressing their foreheads to the other’s navel and winding the arms around like pistons. Sandra had removed the satellite bellybutton thing prior to dancing and walter noticed it looked very annoyed by such. Changing colors and vibrating itself back and forth across the mantle.
“It’s magnetic,” sandra explained without being asked. “Or magnificent, I forget which. telemagnetic-feraluscence. Distant compulsion and Wild light.”
After sandra explained that her husband is a rich clod, they made loud, crazy love.
Part 12...is what...
And gosh-neck stockings, there I rose up sizemore. Ever wily, or clamming up, forgetting I came here to sweat. This is a hat puff, that is, we all prove our mane. Touch low and resonant holly green, finger tip smash, collect ewers-full. Possible start-up cloud, hang-glide around, don’t hang-glide the impossible winds. Blue...
let ‘em fold, stack ‘em high.
Word so tremorous that I, and maybe this time-town frowny patch of kismet dunk. Pay kilberry to yunik and, ‘til my shinny heart can frame splendor wheels, let it down. Dancing....

B... steppin in it

Babs

how like crazy
she got up to one knee
with a fish hook
stuck in

that was a miss
ceramic flinch
oh remember your debts?

why today
that you claw
for tasks
in the dark

lying under the rug in the library

air wont imply too much
the motion of your stomach will say more
the delivery of your rehearsed lines, rehearsed all day
even @ coffee break
spreading desert into your girlhood
spilling into your mother's nebula

petrified

gossamer grind

i find myself playing fetch for this woman
i love it
i see things for her everywhere
an old bug's wing, a drawing pencil, a small robot...
mostly i just amass things
occasionally i go to her door with one
but never in to her married place

this is the first match my penis
has watched from the bleachers
cheering ravenously, abusing the ref

in dreams, i mean sleep,
though miles apart, we have met
centre court, fully intact

i have not seen her face in years
but we have seen our ideas
we maintain abnormal walls
to bounce off of and collide
into each other in a moment
in a low pressure room

Bad Gig

after the disaster on the west coast, the Boogie Brothers returned to homebase with a powerful hankering for anonymity. Freddie was the first to say it aloud, but they both knew. the Boogie Bros were sure as hell through in Oregon.
Teddie Boogie was reminiscing about "some broad he had scoped" out west, a shapely young thing.
"That's it!," exclaimed Freddie.
The boys went right back to Oregon without even changing their hair. this time they had on tuxedos and shiny black shoes instead of the sandals and snoshy hippie garb from before. this time instead of skulking around the service entrances with their gear, they went in the front door of the Doug Fir and ordered martinis. they had some strapping amazonian mamas lug in their gear, which terrified everyone.
as they sat sipping their martinis, another person, quite short in stature and seeming to never remain very still came in after them stripping bills from an impressive wad. he paid the girls who had carried the gear. then he paid the bartender. then entered two more ladies almost wearing ballroom gowns, daredevil turns all over those things. one produced a silk scarf and mopped the short man's brow. the two ladies escorted the short man back out into the street.
soon, the curiosity in the lounge overcame one woman, a well-to-do woman of about 45, tittering as she came.
"well you boys must be in a band... what do you call yourselves?"
"boog-"
"well, my lady," Freddie interupted, "this is my colleague Dick, Dick Shapely. and my name is Maxwell Shapely and we go by the rather inevitable name the Shapely Brothers."
"oh delightful! what is it that you play?"
"pardon?"
"i say, what IS it that you play?"
"what is what that we play?"
oh, what instruments do you play?"
"oh, my colleague and i both play the grand piano."
"the grandest pianos," chimed in Teddie.
"yes, we will not play a grand piano less than twenty feet long. why, any other instrument would be emasculating, dont you think?"
"well i suppose so," agreed the woman, "but dont you think that two grown men sitting together at a grand piano is a bit mmmm homosexual?"
"gah!" Freddie flailed in his chair as though he had been struck on the back of the head with an electric eel swung by its tail.
"oh my, you seem to offended my colleague quite dearly. of course you understand my dear that we each have a grand piano? there are two of them and two of us."
"oh, yes, well that is quite something wonderful then."
Freddie, sputtering, "did you just... i...
i... lady..."
Freddie fell over like a skyscraper made of thawed fish. Teddie produced a checkered scarf from a pocket inside his coat and instantly two large human beings walked in the front door. one picked up Freddie and carried him out, the other approached the tittering woman and maced her. of course she was surprised, being well-to-do. as the pain subsided and she was able to gather her wits enough to threaten Teddie with do-you-know-who-i-ams, Teddie and the large person waited patiently. when the woman's indignation reached a certain pitch, he ordered her maced again, whereupon they casually left the lounge.

the performance that night was well attended. perhaps this would be hard to anticipate except that earlier in the day they had maced the mayor of Portland Oregon's wife twice. the Boogie Brothers remodeled as the Shapely Brothers played all of their old material on two very large pianos. in fact, the pianos were so large that they could not see each other. for some reason, the presence of these extremely large pianos was something the workers designated to sound equipment could not get a grip on.
the fellows were almost completely unable to hear each other and carried on almost independent of the other. of course, anyone who had followed the Boogie Brothers would not have expected otherwise, but the fans of the Shapely Brothers were quite disappointed.
some began to boo. the sound of boo soon occupied the greater percentage of volume in the room than the breathable air. the Shapely Brothers were oblivious. this drove their detractors mad.
when they had finished, Teddie finished one minute and 38 seconds ahead of Freddie but patiently and motionlessly waited, they each arose. and not acknowledging the audience, lit cigars and strolled towards the exit at the back of the stage.
one especially disappointed music goer accosted the performers, calling them charlatans and blocking their path. the Shapely Brothers, without hesitation, simultaneously punched the man to the ground. Teddie had struck a pressure point to the side of his neck and Freddie had fractured one of his ribs. and there he lay with his opinions.
the Shapely Brothers went outside where they found the amazonian women from before, angry. the short man had offended them, made a grab at their bodies. he stood by a wall smoking a fragrant something or other. Freddie gave him a vial and he imbibed it. immediately he grabbed at his throat gasping for air, he fell to the ground changing color. the amazons smirked satisfied and walked off. Freddie gave the short man a second vial which he readily accepted. this restored his composure.
the women in ballroom gowns returned. these were the Shapely Brothers' wives, at least in the made-up realm of show business in which the Shapely Brothers dwelt. the Shapely Brothers removed their coats and handed these to the women.
next the shiny black shoes and so forth until they were standing both stark naked there in the alley behind the venue. the audience by now had begun to spill onto this scene, too confused to continue booing disappointed.
two grown men naked, natural, casually smoking fine cigars in the alley behind a music house, two lithe women in exploding ballroom gowns holding the entirety of their mock husband's evening ensemble.
two cars approached, one for each couple. they drove away, the performance was over. the audience went home.
back at homebase, the fellows sat in silence and realized at the same time that they were ruined in Oregon for the 28th time.
their real wives came in to console them. their real wives were the dishy dames in the runaway gowns except these women werent wearing ballroom gowns, they were wearing velour trench coats with tiny silent televisions for buttons. none of the televisions were picking up channels. the government had decreed that all television would be digital. this decree was made the day after the trench coats had gone into production. the televisions were useless then. the velour trench coats could be picked up for cheap. the women each had 43 of these coats in every style imaginable.
the women were also geniuses, they invented ear rings which doubled as transmitters, so that the television buttons could display the wearer's thoughts. the Boogie wives had studied the art of making one's mind dead, so they could not be betrayed by the television buttons. this study had taken place before the acquisition of the velour trench coat factory, it was incidental to the business venture, but useful anyway.

all

try to remember

jan3'12

kwilting [pretentious quilting]
my owl lens eye
sillarium [a place to observe silliness]
round robes
chantle cuckoo cuckoo
all over camp
basic hostility...

[this part was dumb but http://thuggiardo.deviantart.com/art/curt-wood-fomps-277433222 if you are bored]

...language falling off a paper
stuck to a dog's tongue
and didnt get read on TV like the rest
TV got some people killed
no one wants to watch anymore
no one has a lens
no one has an owl
only bitter taste
and time sickness

tame wind
waterfalls that dont land
white rapids that dont talk anymore
wheat that dont follow
and fish that quit school

chasms in the black depth
discontinue their mysteriousness
all books are closed

dec15'11

you made a mistake
on the nipple of a silver bullet
you spilled your art
you're soiled
wooden tits clash with the sunset
floating in brine
and decimating the lining in your nose
which you change out of like a sport coat
the girl in your arms
junk
the erect needle fucks your vein
just kidding
someone told you that
you use
but you are just naturally stupid
which has its moments of bliss
and even insight

your shoes are too tiny
and stuck in the groove
but they point
if you could follow
you wouldnt
you fucking human
you'd kill the one who made the shoe
doesnt that make more sense?

obsidian balls
in an aluminum jockstrap
slight rattle and ballet
it is a sight
spinning
gears, toothy
clogged, wordless
a day's newspaper consisting entirely of a repeated letterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs
arson

invalid says

my raccoon he has a dad, and that raccoon his name is Chad
Chad's son's name is Noreaga and what he likes is playing Sega
this hospital bed is for the birds
especially at night when the air smells like turds

daughter

we didnt exactly create you
invent you
or form you in the womb or whatever
i sort of, knock the snow off your car
warm the engine
make sure you can get to work












(if somehow this finds the readership of a right-winger, please dont splatter this across a Thomas Kincade painting, the text in 'inspirational' font. unless you want to cut my chile a check for college or something then yeah have at.)

what it is that had happened is that...

knice pookie
throwed in hurt
kleaved angrre
swam in taste of hubris
meant to demolish
polished wharf
old friend

jackals
high pineapple minute
skin like marbles
hands gummed onto rifle trigger
and horses shot into space
pretty for now
constellating mares in tankinis
slobber rich with stock futures
lose, Bruise Lee chop

green land dolphins
trying this dance
keep suckin for air
keep sniffing the cancerous nodules
keep checking the time, you're way early
you're too early dolphin
and sharks, you're too late
cant a motherfucker get a decent swim around here?
in a limpid pool of word salad



oops! hamburgers instead!

i love love; don't you love love, love?

they didnt realize they were getting married and then bloop dammit marriage. it must have been that bellhop with the gimpy leg, they were always so suspicious.

obliterated
by the blowjob
the periscopic clitoris
rose
like a soul
to heaven
in heaven
there were gray warriors
with no veins
misty blood

there were
everywhere
words of advice
which could be eaten
for dessert
she pretended
to not see them
there were judges
she coughed on
who became sick
and died
and their families died as well
there were gatekeepers
who pursued her at night

a week of cannibalism
insomnia
wooden conversations
heaven people
anemic music

arousal
next from heaven
was a noisy galaxy she liked
buzzing
cymatic life
ceramic ambassadors

the spiral arm
of the sky god
she rode a lock of hair
to the cheek
and smeared herself
into the eye
fine convulsions
violence
and snapped shut blackness

"is that supposed to be a honeymoon offering?"
"yes?"
"are you asking me?"
"yes."
"well, i love it."
"good, then we really are married."
"what do you mean?"
"well, technically we are both dead, we couldnt legally be married. but if you've accepted my offering, then i have accepted your love."
"you're an asshole."

char-black retro-active Prostate Flushes for ergonomic purpose

angus there was a cobra with the night sleeves
see how i am not mentioning what he has to do for ages...

again, Angus, candid as always
wears his mother's wig
takes an appropriate step or two
vanishes into the taco of his pride
splits in two parts

oily and bereft
he would benefit from professional pants
light sucks a little flame from him
maybe he will be able to sin again

marbled and aflame
nostalgic for cold weather
sexualized music that no one could touch
but which touched him
but he was not ready and the music had ruptured him internally
and his insurance policy had lapsed

despite,
Angus had a macho gait
and a motorcycle
and could crunch numbers

night sleeves hungry for off-radar jag
the wings of an opaque calix
lacquered and righteous
the motorcycle rips obliquely into the night
on the caramel road

something clings to an Angus rib
it is a feeling
it is a barnacle
dammit, Helvetica

Hind Nabbit

keep keith tkachuk
alone in a nancy bed
with his near-sighted blight
wrapped in knitting
and intersected scissors
til he weeps casual

cagey bison
yo that head
flux in droves
howled it hollowly
how low, high longing
halo spirit
tusks from my tufts
lift from my midriff

clap the bull
karate incisions
and insert the deliberate yen
making things maudlin
by the banks of our devoured outpouring

the Sky is a Blue Harlot's Donut

simplistic culottes
Spring is a lady
and a lady with no fear
a lady with no fur
murder
hearts kissing hearts
on the butt-hole
tremors and whooping gadgets

then a surly mantle
then a bit of remorse

friends

i have you
wonderful friends
but i cant feel you
i only feel different
that is true

grandpa talk

a metal wire brush
makes a metacarpal heathen on us

scrubbin' and on
for no ending

leanin' on
and then t'other

wishin' it was bedtime
but it's brushtime
and me

Dew You Drip

dew you drip
i catch
ewe, circular, plentiful mountain

dowse
under my leg
is a landing patch
for a helicopter
with a daisy painted on it

December made me compare
your ball of string
to my whirring sound lathe
and that wasn't right on

laying down
where the funnel cloud is going to kiss

i partially remember your sound
but now it makes me puke-sick

dew tea
today is full of must
a picnic with a rabid jackal
all day laughing at what the flies are doing
on the rotting meat

ewe rehearsed
ready to aspire
enclosed in paper wings
and shoved from the balcony
oh no
neck-first onto a taxpayer's neck
and paralysis
true love
headlines scream it
for dead eyes

Married to the Mosquito

manly hooking scream
foam, burbled all outright
pinkie flared into the nightgown sip
the honeymoon exploded into gales
of moustache and chocolate humiliation
half-jettisoned
but still lively in pink jogger
three-wheeled, with some buttons stuck
no decent reminder for the iris of a gigolo
sneaked through between the heel and ball of a perfect step
an air of confidence
a trash man
gather hulky licence to pall bear anyone's raggedy ass

on the pillow, a silken cleavage
her taut frame wooden in the stair well
perspiration from who knows who
smelling like the ponies from 50 years ago, why?

like a knife and spoon again
not telling any tales here
the lights flicker on the last dance
these whales aint singing

spongy and i aim for midnight
if the clock cant wait then... unanimous
macabre angels will spell it in blood
an airtight Airedale fetching human lungs from the dais
you know how i'll remember this night?
the sugar cult kicking the shit out of the losing boxer
porous kid from Spill town, landing in big shine

hey if it was so imminent
they would have done it in glass
next time, probably

char-black future jazz Mormon colonics

angus there was a cobra with the night sleeves who chewed cornucopia and thought heaven was white place with munches to grow around he would clap hands in the palace, lo!
only deft at posing for guru guru magazine police he went all out topless but became on fire with the conviction of a holy ghost or maybe it was Liberace or the Menudo brother video cluster he wore only the watch of gold he could smell his own excitement excrete from his libidinous place which was a white palace booby trapped all around to distance himself from other salespersons because if he did not close this deal and in fact the next 4 deals then the president of the Nair corporation would repossess his new Passat and make sweet love to his new cobra bride in it Lawrencius! o Lawrencius!
she would say that he could not have that he could not would not hear that he should not have gone over to the dark side but he had no choice because he fell asleep on the subway and woke up there so he got off and while he was walking around on the dark side he lost his cobra pants and a rat ate them and finally he was crying but no kleenex and he dehydrated and died no wait no he didnt he actually just got up and caught the subway going the other direction back to the white place again 15 minutes later and while he was on the subway car he named redemption he was reading the paper all about how he had transgresses his own guru guru photographers hogtied them to a bankroll of ugly karmic knots which were only untied by many vigorous massages of the lying down topless in many pools of squozen lemonade which can purify the inevitable rash on the soul which accompanies for the photographer of in the nude cobras even though they told him it was only topless they had sneaked cameras into the changing room and snapped a few of his wally shackleford which they would photoshop together later if/when the tabloids needed dirt which of course they did as soon as he got off the subway in the dark side they had had a goony landshark follow him and in fact slip him a wink-out in order to make sure he missed his stop and photographed his brief torturous dalliance in the smeared poop between the tread of the modern civilization's shoe which the less educated call home or the ghetto but Angus knew he was much too pretty to stay there but of course as soon as those tabloids came out he was obliged to take up permanent residence there right away whereupon he met a young ghetto citizen named Farewell Thomsabrightningslyle and obviously Farewell was short for Farewellellingsleeleishashayarlottelslanica but only her dead mother had called her that and she had died several years prior while attempting to make love to her salesman husband immediately after her simultaneous appendectomy/tonsillectomy/prostate flush operation or maybe it had been during this but either way, Farewell was now quite fond of salespersons and tried to have them all shot.
she had Angus shot.
but he did not die and never realized that it was his brand new love who had arranged the assassination attempt although the incident could hardly be called an assassination as Angus was far removed from politics and even further removed from the white place which served to house his former life and he had even gone so far as to develop complete amnesia which was not entirely intentional but as he had developed a powerful craving for the new chewing gum on the market Amnesia Chewing Gum which was then the only gum on the market known to cause amnesia which Angus knew but it had such a marvelous citrus flavor and one day his cobra bride Helvetica Monro-roglamborghinipples accidentally met him at the supermarket which she was in because she had just botoxed her face shut and could not see where she was going and Lawrencius was too busy banging broads in the Passat to assist his ill-gotten cobra mistress who was blind as can be and squeezing mangoes when she got caught in the lint trap of a rather gently used time machine which Angus had been sitting in making a child's kapow and vroom and ak-ak-ak-ak-ak machine gun noises to no one in particular but also passively hoping a salesperson would wander by so he could ask if it really was marked down as low as it said which of course it was he learned after a salesperson happened by and it was marked down so low because it had a faulty lint trap o hi lady how'd you get trapped in there well that is what i was talking about see people are always getting caught in the lint trap of this unit shut-up and let me speak with my husband you husband i am not your husband lady but man your botox sure looks great hey is that guy in the Passat honking for you his sister sure is affectionate Lawrencius how could you hey Farewell what are you doing with the time machine salesman hey lady my name is Helvetica and i am so your wife you retard oh ok whatever well it looks like my old lady has ditched me for that crumby but ruggedly handsome time machine salesman over there but i bought this time machine so do you want to go back in time with me and become our own ancestors?
god i was hoping i'd be a satisfied old woman before anyone asked me that again but since you just did i'd have to say that it is the most wonderful thing i have ever been asked so let's get back there and impregnate our forefathers!
Angus and Helvetica took the time machine out of the store and set all the controls up and just as Angus went to throw the switch he got the worst cramp in his thumb that any cobra ever has gotten in their thumb and Helvetica totally over-reacted and euthanized him over and over again with the heel of one of her snake skin stiletto heels all about the head neck and shoulders and also a bit in the chest ass and genitals just to be sure he was properly euthanized but he did not die because he was in a time machine, oh wait no he did die and she did too somehow, like immediately thereafter and then Lawrencius and Farewell made eye contact from across the room whilst they were giving it to different people, um, the time machine salesperson and the broad from the Passat and the instantaneous-ness of the in love they felt was so great that they each threw up on their lovers and ran boldly toward one another in slow-motion like a movie and when they finally embrace half an hour later their genitals intertwined but their bodies also exploded and killed everyone within a twenty mile radius.
the end
ps - oh, but this also brought Angus and Helvetica back to life for some reason and they were in the time machine ready to go back in time and avert the whole ugly turn of events but decided to do something else instead, i forget what or they didnt tell me, we're really not that close anymore, i just happen to remember all of this because i just got off the phone with Angus's brother Nibs who didnt die in the aforementioned explosion because he had been away on business that day selling baby dolls that poop edible chocolate pudding at a convention in Sioux Falls or at least he was supposed to have been there at the convention but instead he had shacked up with a local courier-boy from the community college named Butrence Winschlomos-Yekshewel who was an avid bowler having achieved a high game of 227 which i was there to witness but i only got a 97, but that is still my personal record, i dunno, there was something in the air that night, our bowling was blessed i guess cause Nibs bowled a 222!

sexy/scary=not sexy

i am out maybe shopping and i need to make a call or something and also buy a specific kind of candy so i go to the toy store but there are carts in the way in the part of the store i want to go to. i jump over a bunch of shopping carts, thinking myself very clever and agile for being able to access this part of the store with those carts in the way. but there is no merchandise here and i almost get locked in this part of the store, i guess they are closing early. i notice that there is no merchandise in the front of the store either, just an enormous set of blue chairs, one bigger than the other, the bigger one maybe 12feet tall.
disapointed i walk to the mall across the street. notice something in my hand, some kind of b&w illustrated post card or something that had cost 25 cents i must have bought while talking to the young lady at the toy store about the chairs.
i am walking around the mall. i see a bunch of teenagers hanging out languidly in the sporting goods store. now that i think of it, the sporting goods store is set up like the lion exhibit at the zoo. i think about buying a soccer ball, but i am afraid to go near the throng of teenagers. i think about going to the food court just beyond them, but change my mind, over-priced junk food.
so i turn around to go back from whenst i came but there are hundreds of people on the ground wrapped in yellow or gray towels. i try to find a way to walk past them but they are blocking the entire corridor. then i realize that they are having a religious experience of some kind, God seizures or something. so then i am quite freaked out and frantically try to find a path to walk past them but there is none. i go into a store but they are in there too. not densely packed, but i cannot leave the mall through that store so it makes no difference. i am back in the main corridor trying to pick my way out when i notice that some of the revelers/worshippers are naked. then i notice that some of them are mmm-sexy! but they are not really old enough to be sexy, 15-17 yr old maybe. there are all these sexy naked teenagers wrapped in towels, like bathroom towels, not big enough to cover all their parts, i can see their buttcracks and fronts. i notice they have ash all over their thighs, i pause in my panicking to wonder what the ash is all about. it is possible that the males had yellow towels and the females gray towels, but there were a lot more yellow than gray. possible only the sexy girls got gray towels. most of the towel people were laying down alone but some, mostly gray towel people sexy girls were sitting up and extra intense, huddled together, some slumped toward the center, some looked to be leading the huddle somehow. the sexy gray towel girls seemed too young to think dirty thoughts about, then again, i was really freaked out and too concerned with escape to really look at them. they had Victoria's Secret model hair and bodies. possible i just assumed they were young because it was the mall and they were hive-minded. they certainly seemed powerful, or able to conjure power through their bizarre ceremony.
i dont know what part being naked at the mall played in the ceremony, but i should add that the whole time i am freaking out trying to escape, the languid teenagers in the lion exhibit sporting goods store were completely unimpressed and rather oblivious.
i should also add that other people were at the mall as well and were similarly blocked by the towel people, but werent panicked like i was. they quickly became imperceptible to me as my panic increased.
unsure whether to be aroused by the powerful sexy girls/women or afraid and continue try to escape, i decided to just wake up.

Sense/Senseless/Senselessness

"The din rose in the vast room. the line under I Want to Be Fucked Senseless was so long that portable toilets had to be added and a minister brought in for deaths, births, and marriages on the line. Over under I Want to Fuck Senseless - no one, a pile of guns. A hollow roaring filled the enormous gym. More and more people began to move over to Want to Be Fucked Senseless. The line snaked around the gym, the stadium, the whole town, out into the fields. More and more people joined it, until Fucked Senseless stretched across the nation in a wide belt like the Milky Way, and since they had to name it, they called it the American Way."
- "The Solution" Sharon Olds

In Stanley Kubrick's final film Eyes Wide Shut, there is a scene in which the main character, Dr. Bill Harford has found his way into a completely bizarre sex orgy in the mansion of some billionaire. First of all, i should back up and say that he has gone on this adventure because his wife has just revealed that not too long ago she had a thing for a naval officer and would have given up her extraordinarily comfortable life and love for Bill and their daughter to have even one night with this other man, had he only asked; but luckily (?) he was called away before anything was physically consummated. So here is Dr. Bill, out on the town and thinking about revenge, which he is determined to physically consummate.
An old friend who plays the keyboards blindfolded at these sex functions has reluctantly given Bill the address and password to the orgy. Bill arrives in appropriate attire, a black cloak and mask, utters the password and is admitted. He finds the beginning ceremony underway, many people in black cloaks and masks gathered around watching one person in red cloak lead a circle of people in black cloaks through some kind of purification ritual, the old friend is playing to a track of spooky backwards chanting. (Someday I will record this and run it backwards to hear what is being said.)
The circle which was being purified stands and drops their cloaks. They are all gorgeous women (everyone is wearing masks). Their figures are almost a caricature, so exaggerated. Their legs are as long as an interstate, their asses buoyant like derigibles, their breasts so perky, like their nipples are looking God in the eye. One by one they are sent off; they will select one of the cloaked people in the room and go with them to fuck or be fucked senseless elsewhere in the mansion.
We have Bill, whose trust in his marriage has been shattered, in this totally foreign environment which promises unknown heights of sexual pleasure. Although everyone is wearing a creepy mask, Bill is sticking out like a sore thumb. One of the women from the purified circle selects Bill and as she leads him away, to what he thinks will be glorious sex, says something like, "I dont know what you think you're doing here but you're in great danger and you must get away immediately." He stays anyway, his escort is called away, no glorious sex, not with her anyway, but people are getting fucked senseless everywhere he looks.
A man leads him to a room and there is the man in the red cloak. Bill is caught, he is in big trouble, but the woman who tried to warn him steps in to 'redeem him.' He is allowed to leave and is threatened into secrecy. A lot of weird stuff happens over the next 24 hours, he fears for his safety as well as the old friend who granted him access to these people, and the woman who stepped in for him.
He is called to see a very rich friend, it so happens he is a member of this group and knows everything that has been happening. When Bill asks what happened to the woman who redeemed him, the rich man says she got her brains fucked out and then they drove her home, which is what would have happened anyway.
So why is everyone in Olds' poem having difficulty finding someone to fuck them senseless? I think the issue is trust. The setting for this sex orgy in Kubrick's film is so forbidding. Even if Bill wasn't reeling from his wife's revelation, this setting combines most of the things I am personally mistrustful of, which include old money people, people wearing masks, people in masks doing rituals, backwards singing, gorgeous women who are sexually excited by mansions, even fomality. Perhaps they get so far from trust that trust is inevitable. Like midnight, 12am, 11:59pm is as far from midnight as you can get and then there is another midnight.
Maybe these rich people have found another midnight, and there they can fuck each other senseless. But they protect this trust, which is essentially a fountain of youth and verility, with extreme distrust, violence and paranoia... informed paranoia, well-organized paranoia.
"Over under I Want to Fuck Senseless - no one, a pile of guns." Violence, invisibility.
These are rich people, rich men i assume, and kept women. The woman who stepped in for Bill was a former Miss New York. I am incredibly trusting myself, and I think paranoia naturally comes right along with trust, because one wants to trust, one wants to believe. One wants to believe that Everything that is said could be true. Conspiracy? Yes. Does old money conspire? Sure, probably. "...they called it the American Way." Human nature, sharing/hoarding the toys.
So why cant just anybody get fucked senseless? Perhaps that kind of trust is hoarded, and to try and gain access to it, you put your life and the lives of your loved ones in danger?
I dont know.
What exactly is this senselessness? I suppose i must allude to another movie, the Matrix, and back to my own clock analogy, maybe we are all so far from senseless, we are all 11:59pm, maybe there is another senseless right over there. Maybe senseless is a breakdown in our awareness, i believe the scientologists (famously scientologist Tom Cruise stars in Eyes Wide Shut) try to get at the fundamental neuroses of an individual and reverse them. Such a cured individual is called a 'clear'. Perhaps if we were clear, we would be without this 'sense' that our neuroses have prescribed for us, we would be able to interact with each new stimulus without prejudice.
I once went to the trouble to figure out how i define certain words that people use. Among my contemplation were 'have sex', 'make love' and 'fuck'. I decided that when people fuck, the fucker is taking something and the fuckee is giving or losing something. So, to be fucked senseless, to give or lose this neurotic awareness, no wonder the line for fuckers, to adopt someone's skewed universe is unoccupied. In Kubrick's film, the fuckers go to great lengths to pre-skew the universe, perhaps this really is a great protection for them.
Perhaps this is why an artist or anybody might 'go crazy', their universe is skewed, something somewhere somehow has fucked them senseless. Perhaps 'common sense' is hell.