write about your mother, write about your motherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

git crazy with me
say to your boss
and this is important
i have hated every single minute of this god forsaken period of employ
it was always that i was a little fuck up
i'm not romancing my brokeness
(it's not poverty and i do recognize the difference missy)
but i would so much rather fail
I LOVE FAILURE
ALL TYPES OF FAILURE
LET US CRASH OUR MARRIAGES INTO EACH OTHER
LET US FOOLISHLY EMBEZZLE FUNDS
LET US GO TO PRISON
LET US MOVE TO SECTION 8 HOUSING
LET US FOOLISHLY ENGAGE IN COITUS WITH THOSE UNSUITED TO US IN THE MOST BASIC OF WAYS
LET US NEVER SAVE A SINGLE PENNY
LET US DIE BECAUSE WE DID NOT SAVE MONEY FOR OUR RETIREMENT
LET US BECOME ADDICTED TO THINGS THAT WILL KILL US
LET US PUT OUR FURNITURE IN THE ALLEYWAY
LET US ABANDON OUR FRIENDS
LET US LET PEOPLE FORGET US
LET US ALLOW OUR RELATIONSHIPS WITH OUR RELATIVES TO FESTER AND DEFLATE
LET US PICK AT OUR SCABS
LET US BURN OUR SKIN WITH CHEMICALS AND RAZORS AND LET US NOT SEE THE DOCTOR ABOUT THE PERSISTENT STABBING PAIN IN OUR ABDOMENS
LET US SQUANDER OUR INTELLIGENCE
LET US NOT BECOME LAWYERS
LET US PASS OUT OF THE WORLD UNNOTICED THOUGH WE ARE SURE WE EXISTED BECAUSE IT IS NOT IMPORTANT THAT EVERY SECOND AND EVERY PERSON BE RECORDED AND NOTED
LET US BECOME LONELY
FOR WE ARE LONELY IN ALL BUT NAME

there is some fantasy somewhere that one can be marked to be real, looked at and looked at until you are almost invisible these are not divergent in anyway there is no difference between these two and i would like to be alone forever if that's alright with you because i can take the jealousy and the possessiveness and the madness and the boundaries that are unclear and the quietly building resentments and even the ecstasy but not not not the logistics

memory is shit anyway - India Rs 295, memorable the new money blonde wood book shop, the boutique salwars, the fan and pink city walls in gray florescence, the strange drinks and the "your awfully forward for a sophmore" but inside the pages only the passage on his body, but what did my suckers latch on to then? sorry arundhati.

i'm smelling bharat everywhere these days. the street festival tent. inside the wrist of the woman that grips the pole next to my head on the train. the corner of the bar. someone drinking down bidis round an unseen corner. phir bi dil hein hindustani? i imagine i read every book differently before six months ago (this is why i have given away most of my books because it as if i have not even read them and so must start over again), but the silly thing is that i bring the six months with me, so the six months is always six months from today. i see wider now, i said to him, everything is different now. i already forgot what changed though and this is why memory is shit anyway.

you have a terrible memory, kitty, no no no my memory is just for the things you shouldn't have to remember, for the placement of objects and the color of sunburns, why are you talking to me like that? what is this about? okay okay okay shhhhh let me pet you.

if forgetting is an act of violence, then i am the most violent person i know.

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.