Searching for firewood in the dark it was hard not to imagine an atheist’s death. My syncopated heartbeat eliding and sliding as a syrupy angina came on. Reduce the heat to bring it to a simmer. Every day I force myself to speak. I don't like my own voice. It sounds like my father’s. I do this to remind myself that I still am alive. I haven't had a conversation in so long that my voice cracks. It comes out damp and weak. I'm embarrassed for myself. When I see you in a memory from a dream your complexion shines like it's reflecting a fire. Tortoiseshell clip in Auburn hair. You have an abroadness about you. Amanuensis for the earthquake journal. Researcher of colonial pornographers. You are probably just waiting a 3-table cafe. You of the labile Cognoscenti. Eyes strangely cold though. Like the river. The paperbark’s felt gains texture as they merge in the shadows. Tresses of mist weed hanging. If I imagine your scent it’s quite the distraction from the redolent swamp. I'm unable to compose a soul within myself and am annoyed by my insouciance. Limes rolled. Leaves bruised. Eastern carpets absorb the clock in the hall and clack of snooker balls.
Quick list of skills possessed but rarely employed:
1. Making love
2. Listening to other’s problems (not giving advice)
3. Cooking (not oriental)
4. Swimming in the ocean (Pacific)
Sentence possibly misheard but interesting: take the smooth out of the statue (source: redacted).
A yellow single-propeller crop duster floats over a field in the distance. It sounds like 1955. From this angle across the field, it seems to levitate in the air, ever so slowly turning before finding its line and sneezing chemicals all over the sea of tiny green plants. Nnnnmmnnnnnnnnnnnnmrrrr! That's the sound the plane makes. I imagine the pilot wearing leather goggles and being chuffed with himself. The air-conditioning in his drive-home utility vehicle is chilly and exceptional. If you do something you love you will never work a day in your life. It is my experience that if you don't get a job you will also never work a day in your life.
Dinner for one:
Sea urchin butter sauce (in a silver plated saucière)
Jar of milk
Salt bacon
List of texts lost to history:
The catechism of fetes
Sprezzatura for shy children
Side saddle Espirit de L'escalier
Cineastes: An apologia
Obduracy and bravura- notes on bee spit
6. Rebarbative Neologisms~ a collection
~ MANIFESTØ~
WRITTEN DOWN SHORTLY AFTER A SPEECH BY T. CHIGURH. President and benign dictator of Tallulahaiistan.
Comrades of great comfort. I stand before you today to lay out not so much what is what and what is not, but rather to go past all that can conveyed through vibration and speech.
( LONG SILENCE)
This banana republic of ours thrives off one thing *crowd shouts poetry*. Confederate lapidary means nothing to us, panoptic perfidy and hessian ablutions are foreign coincidences. Myopia is a condition pegged to our pride. Depilatory actions are a tolerated foible. Putting on an unconscious accent to order oriental food is no longer an acceptable sin. Chicaneristic charcuterie smoothies behind tulle-veiled purple dawns while exploding white stars of flowers appear between obsolete hewn rock is what excites us. Factory smog on the sea breeze sooting up a green coconut is our perfume. We will not allow mean magic to make our dreamers insecure. (RELATABLE APPLAUSE)
Thursday, 16/9/1999