the dump that reached for the moon

Oft doesnt sense shot one please just please whether tomorrow fuck now no yes sip sip mas NO just let it happen. Just let it happen. What do you want. Just let it happen. If you want it, do it. Just let it happen. It's not meant to be a strife. Just let it happen. Tea turns to whiskey turns to a brightly lit cigarette turns to words on a paper about how much control I have lost/sacrificed. But what if the words are good? Is it worth it? Let me work it. What do you want. Young and impetuous. Full of folly. Do not forget your folly. Take it with you. Wrap your head in it, cover your eyes with it, plug your ears. This is life. Life is meant for us. Us stupid little creatures that occasionally eat our own shit. Walk around with bad breath and wonder why no one wants to kiss us...

I'll kiss you! I'll be imperfect with you! We can run across the coals together! In opposite directions, of course, but we will do it together! This is OUR fire, this is OUR fight. On opposite sides, of course, but this is our battle! I honor you and the life that is in you. I honor your honor - your decision to risk it all to play your part in this. I will play my part and you can play yours. When we are done we can switch. I know it will be hard to push the blade through my chest. I wish I could make it easier for you. But that is your responsibility, so buck up! We are doing this together, remember? This is exactly how it has to be.

I saw a fly today. It must have been hurt, because he/she let me get very close. Shiny and green, blue, dull and black, brown, transparent, wiry, hairy, smooth, tongue moving in and out ever so slightly. Beautiful is too trite a word to describe the presence and presence of this small manifestation of God. I tried to be affectionate to him/her and he/she was not having it. Stupid fucking fly.


I cried this morning. Not a manly tear falling down my face, but an embarrassing, retching, trembling sob. My face was distorted into that sad ugly face you only let your mother see and not because you have a choice, but because sometimes you need to be held when you get that face. Thank God I was alone, because I had no intention of masking it. And what was it that I was crying over? A piano solo. A piano solo. A solo piano solo, a fucking solo piano piece. What the fuck?! Who am I? Who pulls this shit? Is this acceptable behaviour from a fully formed, practically incarnate American man? Maybe "man" is too strong a word... how about "26 year old male". "26 Year Old Male Lacks Ability To Keep It Together" "Practically Incarnate Man-Child Sobs Helplessly At Computer Screen Whilst Watching Five Year Old Performance Taped From A Radio Show" "15o Pound Lump Of Pink Skin Fails To Realize What He Should Be Crying About As He Breaks Down During Piano Performance, Yet Stares Stoically At News Of Crime, Torture, And Death"


Oh. Or more specifically - "Oohh ." Pure grace - called Chef Ito. Grace that accepts my humanity in a hug upon meeting. Radiant human being completely absent from the stainless steel trap of braising, boiling, grilling, baking, steaming, microwaving, blanching, roasting, frying, poaching, and speaking. Sunbeams shot from his finger tips. Sunbeams and dried mushroom powder. Sonic booms hailed from his silent lips. Health and wealth follow in his wake. Quite a feat, you know. This type of person makes change want to happen. Dollars turn into dimes. What ever he's got, I want a piece. And you know what? I bet he'd give it to me, too.

But who's counting? There's the this and the that. There's the "wait until later" and the "never again". Not to mention the "how did that happen in the first place" and the "I can't imagine". Well. I can imagine. I can imagine a lot of shit. It happens all the time, really. I don't wait until later all the time. Now is now is now. Seize the day at the expense of the week! Take my word for it! I exclaim, it must be true! But it's okay, because I've already proved myself to be a valuable asset to the world. I recycle. That's right! I recycle! No, no, not everything, that would make me a fanatic and the world hates a fanatic... And I'm vegan! That's right, vegan! Mother Earth fuckin' loves my ass! Sometimes, I even ride my bike! Eat it, gas guzzlers! Eat it, fat fucking Southern BBQ rib munchers! You're going to hell! You're creating it as we speak! Be more like me you bastards! Save the planet with me, one fucking recycled can at a time! If ONLY you would be more like me. More like me. More me than me. More human than human.

Full I feel full I feel fullI feelfullI feelfullIfeelfullIfeelafullIfeelafull I feelafull I feel awful I fell. It is nighttime. I don't even feel particularly angsty, but I feel nighttime. The spirits are in me. Not the Holy spirit, the other one. The I'm-awake-while-the-rest-of-the-world-sleeps spirit. It gets lonely at the top of the universe. The gash will be closed up by morning, but who can sleep at a time like this? There's blood running through my veins, God Damn It!! There is an entire scope of being that wants - NEEDS - to be made manifest! I feel the soul of this realm in me! I am the enacter, the enabler, the puppet to be moved by forces eternal and dark. Not dark as the evil of books and Fox News, but dark as the starry night in Montana, dark as the not-at-all-shameful truth you hold close to your breast and hide from prying eyes, dark as the Bone Machine or the Tropic of Cancer. Real, tangible, edible, smokeable. Fuckable. It's a sinful smile, but sinful as New Orleans in 1918, sinful as that good shit, the brothel jazz, the cigarettes that stretched across the Mississippi, the oompah and the Papa. The Baby Dodds and the Zutty Singleton. The gage, the tea, the viper room. The brownies that you don't give to your grandparents. It ain't misbehavin', it's just exercising a different set of muscles.

You are here, though. It isn't just me at the top of the world. In speaking, I imagine your listening. Furrowed brows like me, a smile anticipating the end of the... I won't give it to you, though. No closure. I'll keep changing my trajectory so that you will never know where I'm going next. You'll never bore of me. I will go crazy staying exciting, but I'll fucking do it! Never stopping, never slowing, even. No time for breathing, no time. Even when I'm listening I'm talking. You will feel my gesture. I will be pressed up against you always. Head to toe. I will make our parts interlock that every cell is touching in an embrace you cannot fucking fathom. You will have to breathe through me and see through me. We will drop talking and use telepathy instead. Thought, feeling, emotion dripping from my brain to yours and back. Running along electrical tracks at the speed of...

On and on. And on and on. Over and over. Everything is everything. Everything is everything is something is everything is nothing is something is everything. What you do for enjoyment I do for addiction. Addict or just a dick. It's not one thing, it's not another. It's everything over and over. Ouvre. Click click. A little self-loathing goes a long way. A little self love goes along away. Eat it and weep. I'm full. No room left. No room at the inn. Get in. We'll make room. There's always room. Tip topera. Drip dropera. Why can't we be friends? Why can't we just get along? In the song I sing, everything is everything.