Tuesday, January 23, 2007

I am the world's forgotten boy, the one who searches and destroys.

Dance fucko. Dance around the fire of your own creation. Dance and let it all sweat out pounding beat and rhythms and heat / dance in your heart let the beat beat beat push push push, out and about and feel it flow, circulate, course, emerge, exudate, flood, glide, gurgle, gush, inundate, jet, ooze let it ooze don't ask what IT is, just do do dooze, just dance dance dance.


The questions are different, but the song remains the same.


I'm gonna take a little time...a little time to look around me...

I'm dancing in the shallows lately, letting the tide slide and slither and tickle the dirty toes of my four year old shoes. The deep dark frightens me now, it's where the creatures live, it's the unknown, where a man might swim gaily, a blissful ignoramus of all that lives below (INSIDE), and besides, I'm a certified motherfucking deep sea diver, and I don't have to do it anymore thankyou come again goodbye.

I'm gonna read between the lines...in case I need it when I'm older...

So it's Ninja steps, gentle, heel to toe, heel to toe, don't split the Rice Paper Man, don't split it with your negative waves, just inch down the corridor and eventually you'll arrive, silent, unannounced. Eventually, you'll arrive. That's what I'm telling myself. If I catch myself listening anyways. These days, I listen a lot. It's just choosing which voice.


I haven't been to work for three weeks now, I think I'm going to call them, right after I speak to you. I think they should hear from me. I think I should let them know why.

Why? I ask. (It's not me, I have been to work thank you).

This one's just gone on for longer than I expected it to is all, I know you know, I know you understand. Can you believe we still go through this?

Highs and lows motherfucker. It's never ending. Besides, I'm keeping my head above water, it means either you or my sister must be going through a rough patch. It's the way it's always been, twenty fucking years now.

Twenty years...

Twenty years.

Christ. Anyway, I'm gonna call them, I'm going to try and explain that the reasons I can't come in are...philosophical in nature. I don't now, what's the worst they can do? Fire me! Fuck 'em.

Fuck 'em.

Yeah, I'm gonna call 'em. And then I'm going to drink this $150 bottle of Brandy I just bought. Come over tomorrow, let's drink it slow and easy and talk shit. I need to talk shit.

Okay, brother. I'll come over tomorrow.

Cool. We can get...




Inside, where no one could see, even those who profess to know me, inside my head January 1st 2007, I made a pact. It's a pact between me and myself and no one can read it and no one is allowed to know what it is and screw perception and psychology and screw the tracks of history and screw every fucking science that lays clues like breadcrumbs as to the nature of being. My pact is my pact and it is this:


  1. Me and myself narc eachother out all the time. It's good that you and yourself can keep secrets.

    Bottoms up, Brandy.

  2. Hang in there, my anonymous friend. You are not alone in this.