i'm suggesting, what if they just handed us a wad of cash at the beginning of the day? that's for today. he jokes, and it might not be there tomorrow, depending on how you do today. and that would make it real. and you might not spend it all on christmas sweaters and books about dystopic futures.
jon stewart makes you feel like you're doing something about how fucked up everything is. jon stewart is the court jester though. jon stewart is a fraud. jon stewart talks about gun control.
oh you like details, you must be if you're liking the the bolano, you must like realism. but what i'm saying is details do not help conjure reality. recording the varied depths of the red rings the hairband leaves on my wrist as it moves up and down my arm under my sweater only makes things less real. (2666, page 195, Amalfitano's section it just says: HELP [see also all of Transparent Things]) i wish the husband had been the one to chase the poet, while the wife, anguished, kept her post as a university professor.
what's-her-name, katy calls her crazy, that girl says "I know my parents passwords will all be my birthday so I can use their shit any time. I like that they love me that much." i don't like the nailpolish colors other people choose for me. don't trust another girl with your nails.
i'm worried we're tipping in to codependency again or would be were we living any closer or if you were next to me in a bar i would have to say, "you're a concert hall with no dead spots and there's no word for that, which makes me extremely antsy. it still does after all these years." i fantasize about getting famous with you and wearing flat shoes to awards shoes and swearing/sobbing on national tv. please don't send me anymore missives of resonance please.
is there anything to do but to record details? ipecac flirting groove wine gum sunset anxiety disorder chinese silk half-shaved head avi who was olivia low-rent two-bit just a step above community jaw structure advantage big island the beach is the thing oklahomo sucker punch drunk grounded gnit duct tape cut up skirt the last time a scrape went white over the top like this one on my knee was in Arcachon when i slid down the bank on a mountain bike my arm filled with wood chips and i went in the lake and it went white but also it was that time of month and i didn't care and i bled on my jean shorts trying to understand my uncle who knew my life with a look though he hadn't seen me in years and his father was maybe dying and everyone thought he was an addict anyway (this was later, I should point out, i did yoga while grandad got open heart surgery)
you do or you don't. are we liberated.....or not? what it is what is what what is up.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment