astroturf

freudian grip’s slipping, might need a second opinion, as long as she’s a professional, maybe a mermaid, i’ll drown if you advise me to in ondine tones

basked in that old time bowie glow, videos meant for the precise state of mind i was in, new psychoactives, and it’s 2008, when did that happen? telephragm zam, hard, nigh impossible to be as artfully crazy as those 60s 70s 80s icons, now it’s michael bolton crazy now that so many dates have lapsed – been stood up by apocalypse yet again, still standing, strung out on heaven’s high hitting an all time low – this string doesn’t stretch far enough, lost elasticity, i’m bunching up – my last temptation, a hallucination on the electric chair

shampoo arsenal

coconut jizz flowing through my folicles, icecream runs of a fruit crisp, the best dessert they have at the hume, at your service

"yeah, it's radical, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's totally radical," Anthony agrees. He discovered the word last night, he thinks he may have heard it from his dad. "It means, 'we agree'."

"Does it?" He reminds me of sentence case. It's an endless trial. The trial of the millenium. Italian folicles?

"No, it means cool."

"No, it means, 'we agree'," Anthony says, annotating the phrase splice. A natural breaking point. Con fuoco.

"Anyway, what you were saying about the new playground..."

"Oh right, thanks for reminding me dude." I just learned that word yesterday, hanging out with the cool seventh grade dudes. Too cool for school. What are they doing here? Kicking balls off the wall. Kicking them out of bounds. It was mesmerizing watching them. They think I'm cute. I'm a 2nd grade comp prog math whiz - number muncher - factoring is my favourite game - i munch numbers - slow on the uptake though - computers arrest my attention - people, not so munch - languages, con migo

"You were saying?"

I've got Anthony's attention. He's hanging on my every word. I'd better have a good one. Well that's what I'm here for. I want to entertain him while he's as suggestible as me. While we're hanging out at recess, this is what we do, passing the time. It's radical.

"It'll be a meander. A meander through the stars."

"Yeah? A meyander? That sounds radical."

"Yeah, it totally will be."

"But I'm thinking more like, a meander through the gravel."

A gravel meander? Yeah, what more can you expect at recess? But you can express, if you're into that sort of thing. Many numbers to munch. Many factors. Factoring is one thing I'm good at that and I remember. I will take advantage of his suggestible state.

I just want to entertain. I know it will crash. My fantasies will entertain, inspire, light up his eyes, I see that, I dare not look but I taste that light in the peripherals, in the reflections in the gravel, in the rain coated pebbles in the cold november rain, it's hard to hold a candle like axl sings, he's keeping the fire burning, Justin told me so, I haven't heard the originals but I've heard Justin's renderings, he introduces us to all the cool music, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guns N Roses, I smoke my cigarette with style, that's so wrong. Gravel mining with ice cream sundae driping off our folicles, it could be your trip.

"Gravel meander? I choose to disagree."

Anyway, I will strive to entertain, but I don't have the talent to sustain this fantasy of mine for longer than this recess or maybe another two. All will be made clear after Volleyball class.

If we had to thank all the fuckers who have been cool to us in the two and a half years since 'puppets':

A: Long lists are fucking boring

B: Do you really give a shit anyway?

I don't have the talent, but I can and will take advantage of that light in our eyes and that gleam in my folicles and the promise of dairy queen tonight after baseball practice if god is granting favors today, I daren't ask - suggestions:

"Yeah, well did I tell you about the tower? Yeah, they're gonna build it in the corner over there. My dad showed me the plans. What I heard is they're gonna show movies in there three times a week."

"Yeah? Radical. What movies?"

"Star Wars. Rambo."

The light brightens. Goes well with the overcast concrete. Creep Street.

"Yeah, Rambo I, II, III... IV. Did you see that one?"

"No. But I will right?"

"Yeah, let's watch it next week when they build the new playground."

breakfast with hector

breakfast under duress

never again will i acknowledge their consciousness
never again

yes, i know, genocide flows like blood through the veins of demography
killers are fecund, they will reproduce, their deeds will recur
but it must never again happen to us
or at least me

i'm going to take a dive in a shallow pool
throw the fight, gets me through the day
another opportunity to break the fast
breakroom confidential
would you like some pepperoni on your intermezzo?
tombstone pizza
but no siesta yet
forget i said anything

nobody better call in any favors
i dosed heroically on psilo shrooms last night, barely slept
today i'm a rusty squeezebox, wrought, wrung out, dry
trying to work, succeeding, barely motivated by my paycheque
i think i'm owed more than i owe anyway
nobody better call in any favors
you don't want to calculate
and i'm too tired to calculate

upon arrival, a rare vitality, the scene - contact buzz everyone beautiful, witty, goofy, loud - set up camp, share beer, tequila, smokes, stories, introductions all around, everyone's cool, the 20 year old first timer... camp sprawl looking for k, hard to find, plenty of everything else though - expensive food, expensive cloths, cheap drugs...

we hit the rave, hitting peak hours, through the forest and clearings from stage to stage, through town, the energy ramping up and up and up, lasers pulsing, fireworks crackling, people cheering, stoners giggling - decorations, ornaments, spray art, glowpaint are at an unprecedented density and aesthetic coherency retaining diversity... the "enchanted forest", it's official, i'm enchanted, our hangout, saving that hit of blotter for later, and everyone wanders through, the locals, the albertans, the lost, the found - a table with geometric playthings, lights everywhere, every color, a communal croquet set in the dirt, a tea stand with a donation jar - our newfound aussie friend offers

i take it, don't need to fake it, take things, everything in every orifice, pills and more pills, don't care anymore, i'll try everything, he's not gonna lie to me, those pills are mostly meth, but okay that'll work, that'll work, take things, more things, stay awake, can't sleep, wish i could, try to sleep, paranoid, having fun, not having fun, yayo gets me high still at least, just want to be somewhere else, home, i know home will feel fake, but it will feel sort of perversely genuine at the same time, moreso than this, this isn't home, this is camp fake and i'm drinking the koolaid, drunk on koolaid but i can still leave, it's not the hotel california, i'm jonesying for anywhere but jonestown, no one's willing to help, my campmates don't want to drive, niki's sigh is a death knell, the guilty verdict, my personality rendered void

i say i'll pay you anything just drive me out of here cause i can't sleep and i can't trust anyone, i hate this place and everyone here, and obviously you can't help me, so i'll have to do it myself, try and misassemble my tent, deassemble, detelescope, assume the worst, make an ass out of you and me, a monument to failure, being emblematic of shambhala, being the dregs, decrepit wheel rolling in the dirt, trying to try, failing to try, unable to sleep, still, so sickly aware, dead sentient

run into tony, finally, he drives me home, a messianic mission, ain't nothin but a thing - i try to be calm in the car, chat with the hitchhiker, smoke
"so, you about sick of this whole scene?"
"yep"
"was fun for a while, but i've had about enough"

thank god there are one or two decent people left
get home, sleep forever, no neverland, no nothing

i'd play you a song right now, if anything was real
unfortunately reality proved hallucination
like the old heads used to say
and there's nothing to play
my playlist has dwindled
to nada
nothing works
nothing should work
to work would be perverse
working order a grating alien imposition
intolerable, murderous, poisonous
even moreso than the chaos
chaos is at least mercifully meaningless
what works is nothing, i should die, today's the day
if i had motivation

well tomorrow's another day
hope it never comes
i can't believe the poisons i ingest
one day it will take a toll
today i don't remember, can't believe, won't believe
rose would make me feel better, she will make me feel better
one of these days, soon, but
i need to treat her right
i try sometimes

seven seas of rye

what's up? have you ascended yet? if you ever wanna descend, there's a vast plane awaiting

allegro ma non troppo