25 Jan 2007

Anchor Watt

hey now. i can feel myself settling into the chasm floor. okay, i'm bored with that metaphor now.

enough isn't enough today. no, nothing satisfies. the game isn't worth the candle. on average, twenty seconds between sentences, that's how long it takes. the rest is a rest. these are the times that drugs are most appealing. these lonely lulls, these gaping holes in myself, these soul chasms. yes i said that. stop the presses: i'm writing about drugs again. no i'm not.

drugs aren't good enough. it's too obvious, there's no free lunch. there's only the naked lunch. yeah, pilfer the classic title, be a tick on burroughs’s ass. ah well, i need iron, i'll feast. been exercising every morning for some stupid reason. wonder how long that will last. it's good to physicalize, cause my mind's a ****ing cesspool, man. except it's not as colorful as most cesspools are. although occasionally we do bump into some interesting calcified research chemicals on the eroded concrete. finally an image. well, sort of. okay, it's a stucco paste of chalky lime, the time i ordered some typtamines from a new york lab - and they delivered, those magnificent **stards! very professional. but what did i learn? i don't know. i didn't do it right. i ****ed it all up. like everything. anchored to the chasm floor, hardwood, smelling of pine sol. a solvent problem solved. can i be a daoist now? is it time yet? the illegitimate watt, the entropy engine, eternally anchored. maybe i should flail on the piano some more.

form a band in 2012. finally. hey, 30 is the new 20. so i'll have my whole life ahead of me. i'll be the new elvis costello. retro retro, until my instrumental deconstructionist finally cracks a tone into a billion pieces, a nano cent, there's a power of ten for you, deoxyribonucleic nuance. we'll play for carbon atoms, our quivering demographic. they look so eerie in that sound. eventually we'll be classified as suburban gypsies in plunging property value residential zones, green icons flashing electrical symbols, out of power, turning into shanty town. will you take me to - shanty town? we're staying alive. suburban gypsies and hippie dippies, hey finally it's time for hippie dip, goes good with tostitos, did you know?

relax, i know it's hard to know what to do during a godzilla attack in a tornado, but eventually the great terraformer will get us out of this mess. into a wire frame, haven't you always wanted to wear a wire? what the fuck else was there about a wire? is it time for the lapse yet? if i was drunk, i'd have no insecurity about lapsing and there'd be no meta-commentary on the lapse, but that leading tone fell right into my lap. someday i'll look back and smile upon this misremembered episode. the welfare cosmos, in its wisdom, does not issue the citizenry its rosy tint until the age of eighty-five, the new retirement, plenty of time to use whatever wisdom you've acquired - ah, retirement from the game, blow out the candle cause wisdom doesn't matter any more - oh, what can you do with it? / put it between slashes /

the entire world will be florida, palm trees and - you know, i guess i got whatever the fuck i was going for writing this, a pinto bean jumping around in my gut - that's what the troops are fighting for - the rights of this echo. hey now.

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