Nearly

"Nearly" only counts in horseshoes, handgrenades, and h-bombs. Let's leave such dickery alone. Too much consideration of your penile endowment shrinks your constitution. Constitution is what keeps the old raft afloat. Tethers and twigs, bamboo and faith. You can't drown as long as you make preparation for what could happen and then leave it to god and nature. Nanu and I were laying on a sofa once, young and fresh with our legs tangled together in a rope of dark skinned affection. We were laughing hysterically that we couldn't die. We were young, after all, and the young don't die. My life was never easy, even when I took it lightly, and I remember telling her that there was a chance that we -could- die, but then "so what?" I told her that dead isn't so bad in so many words. The beautiful girl that she was once rode me on an electric fan. Weird and witchly ways they were. Like nature's orchestra allowing the resonance, the harmonic, the mathematical perfection indulge in itself. When I heard that she died nearly instantly my eye sparkled. Not out of joy, but with an amorous reverence to divinity and her ways.

A man told me, "Pride isn't poisonous. It won't kill you to swallow it." He also told me, "Who is worse off: the fool or the one arguing with a fool." Wise words from that old cadger. I'm presently breaking up with my girlfriend, Ramona. In many ways she's perfect for me. Somehow I'm unsatisfied. She's a lawyer and sees the world through lenses with arbitrary lines and codes and judgements. I am a creator, a levitator, an actor and a lover. She mocks me and has sabotaged my therapy by calling my "magical thinking" childlike and sick. To me, the world is sick enough and my reaction and ways are absolutely natural. Sid once told me that everything we know is natural, or it wouldn't be. He had his sinister snicker rolling around and his tongue nearly stretched out and handed that one to me. It flipped my world like those glasses that you get used to after a few hours or days. Then when you take them off, right side up is upside down.

Relativity is real. Contrast is real. High thread count sheets are my shangri-la. I don't know a lot, but I can hide in libraries and books, between legs and sheets. The dreams a dreamer dreams. The music that mates my nights and days. The shame that doesn't come off in the shower no matter if I sing, "It ain't no sin to take off my skin and dance around in my bones." Those albatross are ridden with pain and I'll have no more of them, thanks. They told me when I was just a boy that I was special. They didn't tell me I was a god, demigod, psychopomp or prophet. They just told me I was special. When I compete, I pray for the beauty of my adversaries. In many ways I'm a good Christian boy. A manchild of American penance. Don't ask me to whip myself though, I'll likely spit in your face or steal the silver from your kitchen. A man must prove his primate heritage or he might lose his way through the divine cosmos.

Do you encounter much those who want to correct you, that want to show you how to become them? I've had it with all that. I know how to live believe it or not. I've done it by hook or by crook for 30 years and I'm not giving up my ghost just yet. I've been struck down, spat upon, shat upon and slapped. I've been villainised, despised, adored, and deplored. One must remember those fine lines between madness and genius, love and hate, and sea and sky. Recently I had to make myself promise that I wouldn't stare at the sun. Then I was left for days with only night. It feels very much like god is trying desperately to tell me to do what my heart says. My heart doesn't lie. My head lies like a flying carpet. Al bisat al tayer.

The voices of angels and demons speak through the sick mens' tongues. Listen up and you may hear a thing or two. Old man Mario knew, and those before him. I'm no psychiatrist but I can tell you that those who go mad actually see a few things that aren't imagination or delusion. Sometimes the concrete and glass, the rubber and gas will drive a monkeyman mad. Then they want to shut his barbed and venemous speech down, cut him out of the picture, and at best medicate the magic out of him. What's left? Not much more than a monkey.

Priests and boxers know that a man can grow very strange and powerful if he doesn't relieve his sexual appetite. I've done my bids. There's something in women that make a man calm. Then they drive him insane. I'd swear if I've learned anything it's that the women I've known are the ones who would pluck the wings off a dragonfly and nurse him back to health. You've got to be careful when you engage in that ancient ritual, the battle and the sanctuary. Keep your head up, hold your tongue and your pen and don't touch yourself too much and you may find you know what I'm talking about. Manamanah.

I love you, old boy. Never underestimate life. Just when you think you've learned a thing or two you might find you've only got what you need. The rest is nearly masturbation.

Teeth

The dream was that his teeth were connected to a circuit board, which slid up into his palate and connected to contacts in his sinuses and were then relayed through the magic circuitry into his psyche. He tugged the loose tooth, loosening the one on either side with it, they were connected. He then courageously slid the board down, looked at it in the mirror, and then calmly slid it back up to where it should be.

He woke up and his teeth were where they should be. Tight and fast. Good. Where was he. Oh, the basement. There were legends of floods, but the floor was mighty dry. It was a fantastic morning, but he could only see out the little frame of a window at the ceiling. He flung the sheet aside and touched the floor with his feet. It was cold, that floor.

Clothes, he would need. There were some! Over there! Jumping up and down, he proved the "one leg at a time" proverb all wrong. "Alright then" he mumbled. Outside of the door, there were steps. He climbed them into the realm of the albino olympist and the biology student. They were nowhere to be seen. It was safe. The sink looked dangerous and he avoided it, but he needed water and a mirror. The floor was covered in a film he would do well to also avoid, but there was no convenient method presenting itself. Jack just touched as little as he could of the floor. The bathroom mirror showed him his regular teeth. There was not his toothbrush, but there were paper towels on top of the toilet that he could use. And so he did.

Outside was a minefield of dogshit. He navigated it as fast as he could, taunting error. The tennis court was a clean smooth sheet. The next challenge was the cliffs of bamboo. There were ravenous animals that could leap out at you if you slowed. No dog dared to shit on the cliffs of bamboo.

*Pop* and cool, usual strides on the street. They could be watching, after all. There were fences in the yards, but he knew that the train tracks left a path for those who needed to cross them. The young would not be defeated by little fences. It made him think of the Berlin wall, snowleg, and ultimately the Stasi. "Shh!" he calmed himself. The sports fields were empty. They were mostly devoid of animal poop, and he was young enough to be a student. All clear.

Soon enough, he were on Main St. to the right, Main St. ended over and down and past things he didn't need to see right now. To the left was a high wall on the bank and then further a cafe where folks with money ate. He walked calmly past the cafe.

"Hey! Where are you going, itsy!?" "Uhm, nowhere?" "Sit down!" "Ok."

He found himself in his orange soccer shirt at a table. No money. "What will you have?" "Water. With ice?"

Mario bought him a coffee and asked if there was anything else he wanted. "No, I think I'm Ok." Jim Tunis spun around in his seat. Jack looked up at the sky. Everything swam. The dialogue was random and antagonistic. It became easier and laughing. Everyone seemed drunk on spring air. They cited their associations and until they were dead and pinned down and on display, like butterflies in a museum, they were too wild to catch. It was like the dead took a holiday and let the living breathe.

Jack said, "I had a dream about my teeth last night. I wonder what it means."

Mario smiled and said, "Ut oh. What happened?"

"Well, some were loose. Does that mean anything?"

"Well, sometimes teeth represent control over things."

"What things?"

"Well, your life."

"Yeah, well I slid the teeth down and then I saw that they were connected to a circuit board and then I slid them back up. What does that mean?"

"Ask yourself."

Itsy touched his crazy teeth. They were there. What could he use them for? Cutting fishing line, biting ice, flicking with his tongue, smiling. Well, they were still there. He decided he was ok then.

"Ok then."

You're not crazy. You're not.

1 Mar 2009 07:08

I'm getting a veeerrrryyy Zpolarly resonance. I can's carry thish mosherfasher FAST-> GOD BBAANNGG!!!€€€

267-VVVVVV********&&&&&&&### (cough) ###VVVVVV! (and V is six, dig?)

The mutants

"Bread and circuses", I was told is the meaning of Panis et Circenses or however it's spelled. I can't tell you who told me, and I can't tell you what it means. I -can- tell you that the song is like a carnival meal, lamb and oil and water and salt. That is all that I could tell you. Watch out for broken glass, fire, lightning, etc.

The South Sea Bubble. How can I address that...

"What?"

"Hmm."

God Bang!

07:20 <> whoa!
07:20 <> DEPARTURE!
07:20 <> not today. too wunderground.
07:21 <@*i*t*a*e> O.o
07:21 <> god bangy.
07:21 <> small step for a man. small step.

Transparency

Peter: The sky may well be falling, but why run? Of course, Thomas, we could dig but we've dug ourselves in deep enough and found nothing but dark, wet, and cold. I tell you we stand our ground. The physicists whoop it up with their lines, membranes, and bubbles of universe and at the very same time fat monkeymen eat chicken nuggets and slurp down sugar like some sort of insect. We don't have allies!

Thomas: It does seem lonely. Still, you seem so excited. It hurts to feel the way you think. Please quiet yourself.

Peter: Are you sure they shouldn't be sounding the alarms? Hurtling through space, bound to the light of a candle burning at both ends? It is imminent, isn't it? Surely you see this!

Thomas: Sure. Shut up.

Peter: Then WHY??

Thomas: Because you won't stop fucking crying about it!

Peter: No, I mean how can this happen? Simultaneously people know their lives, experiences, and pain is all for naught--yet they go on about it like the great glaring fact doesn't exist for them.

Thomas: How long will I have to listen to you? Maybe your "fact" isn't such.

Peter: As long as we live, brother. One could challenge the fact. The human condition of the sun as a star, our imminent destruction of our planet, the ultimate brevity and meaningless of existence. But what for the pain?

Thomas: If you would speak less, the universe would be less painful for me.

Peter: Until someone says, "YES, PETER!" I writhe mocked and alone.

Thomas: You're a selfish sadist.

Peter: I'm not trying to hurt you. These are gasps for air, pleas for help, cries of solitude.

Thomas: Every dramatic gasp, plea, and cry twists the knife in my ear.

Peter: So that's all you have? Just shut up?

Thomas: Yeah, pretty much. Also, if you can find nice textiles it makes the pain less.

An Immodest Proposal (in progress)

We, as a society, wage wars on things we don't like. Druggies with moral deficiencies, Terrorists with violent oppressive voices, and so on. At least we're past the unwed mothers. "Fahreners" coming to take our jobs. Outsourcing is a good candidate for a war. There's always the sanctity of life and abortion, and all of our governments insertions of religious doctrine into law. So many poor young girls suffering and so many young men either abandoning the whole ugly mess or sticking around to "try and do the right thing" which by any mind that can handle the notion is purely subjective. All the while we destroy our planet. It's like a very slow paced "On the Beach" by Nevil Shute. Thousands of years before fat drunken geniuses of pen like Ben Franklin lived, fields of poppies were sewn and grown for the tonic they provide. Funny how flowers, and particularly poppies are associated with wars with guns, blood, shit, brains, and mud. Like when they grow again on top hell, put hades back down where it belongs all is back in order. Yet, through all our generations we haven't learned. Our leaders and all of us that follow their rhetoric, their speeches, their heartgripping ideas and visionary pointing to some fairytale future fall again and again into hell, and the kerberos have plenty to eat.

Dwight Towers: Well... how'd you recognize me?
Moira Davidson: I love Americans. They're so naive.

"When you see that trading is done, not by consent, but by compulsion - when you see that in order to produce, you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing - when you see that money is flowing to those who deal, not in goods, but in favors - when you see that men get richer by graft and by pull than by work, and your laws don't protect you against them, but protect them against you - when you see corruption being rewarded and honesty becoming a self-sacrifice - you may know that your society is doomed.
-- Ayn Rand
(1905-1982) Author
Source: Atlas Shrugged, Francisco's "Money Speech"