and then he said, NO DON'T ACTUALLY CATCH IT. GEEZ

zoom zoom priest
pleaze
pleaze pleasze me
hold on to the tssss phwish
(coca cola delicious smacking noises)

maybe you want to just rest
but there's nothing better than dreaming about resting
depending on the rain
a hip swing up against something solid
and after the fish scale dress
pooled on the floor
and a hip swing against something solid
but so
much
slower

i am talking to you from around a mouthful of toast
that i am taking hours to chew

you can smash with your eyes
and yes there is a period of this
zoom zoom priest
hold on to the wall
as tssssssssss phwish the room tips over

what's me in the morning, me in the noonday, me in the evening?
it's me
baby baby zoom zoom priest tsss pwhish
it's still me

kuh-tssss kuh-tssss kuh-tssss mmmmmhmmmm
drop into the knees
popping invisible buttons
fish scale dress
as long as you're not standing under florescents  
you'll look damn fine

but it's the bruise blue that holds
in the morning
on another dried out, hiccuping face across from your own
a mouthful of toast
chewed over hours
hum in the bathroom, act like nothing happened
that your button bruised hips dropped into the knees
were never even there

coca cola delicious smacking noises
it's me, it's still me
the police will catch you smashing things in the noonday light

I've been having dreams about Canada. I know nothing about Canada and I always have a sense that the whole country is exactly like Portland - which is unequivocally wrong. I've been thinking about going to Canada and finding myself there exactly as I was before, totally unchanged. I've been thinking about going to Canada and finding myself there exactly as I was before and moving there only to discover it is just Chicago or just Stamford or just New York or just Iowa City/Sioux Falls/Cedar Rapids or JUST BOISE. I think, "What's the difference between Toronto and Montreal?"

And my attention slips.

I'm interested in chewing on my fingers - as an academic discipline. Naming differences between tastes of certain fingers, textures of certain nails, cataloging hangers-on or little pockets of pus. Taxonomy of tearing at my cuticles. Families and subtypes. Breaking it down to a very specific science - how many categories could I think of in all? Hundreds on an okay day filled with sleepy eyes and thousands if I pushed it. Of other people's fingers I cannot muster the courage to ask.

I'm bored. And boring. I tire of my own sentences half-way through (imagine for a minute how many words I have already deleted). I just want to hear other people talk and ask questions that lead them to rambling monologues. I want to wear a shirt that says, "Ask me no more questions, tell me no more lies." Is it acceptable in this day and age to hold off on talking for a little while? Try a day or two days, see how it goes, if it saves me any trouble in the waiting out of whatever this is.

Dear-oh-dear, as my grandmother might say. Go have a cigarette.

"guilty robots"

check this out-- scroll down to "guilty robots" on time magazine's "year in ideas"

"This July, the roboticist Ronald Arkin of Georgia Tech finished a three-year project with the U.S. Army designing prototype software for autonomous ethical robots. He maintains that in limited situations, like countersniper operations or storming buildings, the software will actually allow robots to outperform humans from an ethical perspective...but being an ethical robot involves more than just following rules. These machines will have something akin to emotions - in particular, guilt."

the chunk on "gourmet dirt" is pretty good too.

a joint-op operation

Leli does not want to watch tv...

said the hermit crab in a moment of lucid brilliance. 

Take me home! no, wait-

Cries of "free, free Palestine" mingle with hippie jam bands whining through weak speakers.  The question is, what's weaker here?  The speakers or the coffee.  I think it's the the nylons ridden with runs that wrap around Malic's ribcage, girl parts bursting forth.  Almost.  Not quite.  Leli knows that Malic is a boy now. 

It pours in rains and torrents of droves like pidgeons sitting-toed all in 1 well-tended & perma-coifed row.

it covers the sky but not the bird cry or the rip, rip, ripping of a nylon lie-

Leli ran into Terrence today. If Leli were as jacked on sugar as Terrence, maybe he, too could put on a 3-minute performance in the Reynold's club lobby consisting of nothing but coughing, coughing, and more coughing, 

"Ack! hhhg ick ahchem ack ack kcha hrrrrg rrrr ack ack ack!"

He put ten packets of sugar into two cups of coffee and swallowed it down in two gulps. Leli watched in horror as the sugar swam, from his throat to his stomach, from his stomach to his blood, from his blood to his head, from his head to his eyes, darting out of his face - and his eyes to his hands -

PAKOW! they explode into space.

He escaped lecture today by playing sick.  The boy who cried wolf . Leli says that Malic seems disillusioned.

Our lives are disjunctional.  We are consuming, consuming.  Yet we reject coffee and blocks of bison meat with ease.  Perhaps we can eliminate one by one--the flesh, the dairy, the smoke that slithers--until we purify into a poof (PAKOW!) of everything and nothing.  Like snakes eating their tails.

"It's hard to hang out and not consume.  We consume each other," Rolly says.

Wise words from sequined squid.