Monday, April 19th, 2010

Pajamatronical: only the few select pea controllers are allowed to show themselves in public when visiting a foreign sovereignty. We must regulated the emotions, and the celebration station hammers ring like lightning or stun-melons golden cantelloupe bells and hammers and bells and hammers and belle and sebastian winterglory someone with her mashed potato hairdoo is singing living wordlessly by a stream somewhere in the upstairs bathroom. It’s just a short magical walk up the stairs before you notice you’re not wearing any feet, and all the purples you thought were flowers were actually newborn planets with amphibians living on them, standing upright the way men do, with antelope heads, fish heads, mosquito heads, aardvark heads, cat heads, circle heads, underwear on their heads, crowns of thorns, basketball chandelliers, gumdrops, papier-mache, spiderwebs, tincans, plastic baby toys the colors of the rainbow, real rainbows, cgi rainbows, taxidermy, and suicide (the drink concept, not the original, primary meaning, which wouldn’t make sense, though saying it doesn’t make sense doesn’t make sense since sense is not, generally, made in this writing). Someday when you’re old and grey

Maybe someday when we are older and grey we’ll laugh about the planet of our pain

Wish mountain. I went there and communicated with it. I spent four days at the foot of it, and asked it many questions. I asked it where my animals were hiding, and where my girlfriends had fecked off to, and what makes vanilla icecream taste not at all disgusting but some how dreamy instead, and also how to read. It answered all these and more, and when it had finished, I felt as though it wanted to ask me something, but didn’t feel it could, being wish mountain and all. We sat there in that awkward silence, the only sound being a kind of whistle breathing being made by the mountain, the breathing a dog makes when it wants to go outside.  Then I said, “do you want to ask me anything?” Pause. Then, “well, actually now that you mention it, I was wondering how you handle yourself so professionally.  I mean, with the English and those pajamas with little hammers and saws on them.”


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>