“Nuke to wear one of the girls we operation fat” - Bill Gate
Day ?: The new Kaiser Permanente megastructure is coming along nicely. The same can’t be said about really anything else.
Been about three years since I made it back out this way. Three years I’ve longed for the desert. Shut up, pussy. Like a shaven dog, shivering. Walking around with my clicky nails on the tile, but not really going anywhere.
“Go ahead” I say, “open the door, I’m not going out there”. Just then the fuckin Amazon man lets himself in with his skeleton key (The one that opens every door in the entire country). I bolt through the door and am instantly hit and killed by a cyber truck driven by none other than well respected entrepreneur and general doer of businesses, Elon Musk. The wild man of south africa. Straight from the dense jungles of Capetown. The first african president.
Out here the air is particularly sharp, and wanting. What does it want? Mainly sweat, but it also needs its fair share of blood. I started crying last night, and immediately got a nose bleed. This morning while I was relieving myself, another nosebleed, right on queue. The skin tightens up, and begins to tear itself apart. Bloody cracks all down the back of your hands. There was an episode of ‘Good luck Charlie’ where the bitch gets like an emo boyfriend who invites her to participate in this poem reading event, wherein the subject of your poem has to be ...suffering…} The bitch has never suffered in her life so she writes a poem about a time she got a nosebleed. I think the emo crowd really liked it maybe. That's how I remember it. The B plot on that episode was that the mom got heavy into benzos and nearly killed herself.
I’ll preface this next part by saying that if you feel the need to speak up about the difference between goth, and emo, and shit like that, you are a faggot. Actually I don’t think I’m gonna go any further than that.
They call them nosebleed seats because if you sit there I'm gonna punch you up and give you one of 'em’. The Red socks are red from all the nosebleeds these guys are getting from me punching them up. I do a two for one offer. I’ll suck you off, but only if I can punch you in the face first. The trick is to run away when you stun them with something like a sucker punch. That's actually why they call it a sucker punch. It’s a punch from me, the presupposed ‘sucker’.
“Welcome to the forum, put yer beer in the fridge....”
6/23/21:
It rained in the Desert sometime last night. I missed it. Even the Desert doesn’t want to be seen crying. By 8am everything was dry as a bone. “No, everything is fine”.
6/24/21:
It rained again last night. I left my disneyland mug outside to try and catch the Desert off guard.
I started making a spoon the other day. It was going pretty well, but I fucked it with the chisel. I’m trying again today. Let me know if you want anything from the woodshop. A talisman or totem? I can probably do that.
According to computer technology my voice is 100% masculine. I’m starting to get razor burn. I forgot to take my meds yesterday and I felt pretty ok. Once I realized that I hadnt taken them I immediately remedied that, and remedied myself. Only then did I fall down a hole. I’m gonna try to get off of my meds.
7/3/21:
][] The Remedy this evening? A healthy helping of funny white tablets and quite a lot of Coffee and Dr. Pepper to try and prevent myself from nodding off. I was thinking a good idea for an instagram meme would be a picture of the cover of the weezer album ‘Radditude, but instead of that excited dog, it is doge the meme. That really covers all the bases in that particular marketplace of ideas. Thought central. Instagram explore. How about I explore your colon with my penish. *tattoo request dm commissions open. My cousin is missing. He was last seen. At the very least. That's all one could ask for. Just one last shot in the dark to kill the kid. Win a new Rishikesh chopsticks. Some green goblin gold.
Dr. K was quite a successful dental surgeon. He had a sizable office in a ‘sun-tarred bayside’. The office was situated in Wellesley, Massachusetts, near its border with Natick. When Dr. K had purchased the building, it was technically in Natick. But after the rampant redistricting of the 1980s, he found that his property had appreciated significantly in value. The patients that he would operate on would often be annoyed and quite impatient. Dr. K didn’t mind. Just a bit of extra gas. A risk, yes. But a measured one. Stress is contagious and incurable. They’d thank him if they knew, or if they knew how,
Dr. K had three children. The eldest was a boy of fifteen years: Baothghalach. He asked his friends to call him anything else. They called him a faggot. The lad was steadfast and headstrong like an armadillo bowling bowl fiasco on the fifth avenue queue. His pursuits included masturbation, and classic rock. As his father had hoped, he embodied foolish pride.
Next in line was a girl of ten years: Isabelle. Her hair was red like a field of poppies. Locust heaven dreamland. She was part of the brood for whom yours truly might find some solace therewithin.
After a messy accident last year, poor Isabelle had been struck mute. She’d not spoken a word since the last anniversary of the April fools day massacres. She was too young to know about that, but the universe had deemed her old enough to know of much, much worse things.
The youngest child was seven years of age. Eris was her name. She is the subject of much controversy now. Then she was just an innocent young girl, and perhaps she still is in her own way.
Oh Eris
Oh Eris
For you my heart does yearn
Oh Eris
Oh Eris
To you I will return
Forget the old, cold moon
And the tempestuous tide
Come stand by me sweet Eris,
Please stand by my side
Eris is mainly the subject of this story as well as many others. In truth she was not the youngest child, nor the eldest, nor the middle. Take that as it comes. She was like dried lilac.
Eris had a great big dollhouse with which she loved to play. When she would get home, she’d throw her schoolbag down in a pile and go to the low table in the playroom on which the dollhouse stood.
7/5/21:
Up here on top of the hill you can see all the way out to the coast, and all the surrounding towns. Yesterday was the fourth day of july. Now, despite the absolute devastation caused by wildfire in this area, each and every town has held their own fireworks display. It's only 12:39 right now so I can still hear the work of the amateurs. The independent ventures. Monday morning, easy lovers. So easy tonight. But Bright, and when you get up, the love is really yours to hold as long as you can stay completely still. Then when you can’t, it slips away. Falls down and soaks into your socks, and dries on your prayer rug. “I paid good money for that rug!”, and how can you say that? That Moroccan guy fleeced your dumbass.
Up on top of the hill you see the fireworks in every town, all the way down the coast. I’ve never been impressed with fireworks, and nor was I impressed by nine or eight concurrent firework displays. Now if we get a good fire going down in the brush, that might impress me. I’ll leave the handy work to the Monday morning pussy-getters.
7/6/21:
No fires today. This evening's remedy is the last of the funny white tablets, washed down with chlorine bottles. Make a list of people that died this way, and put me on it. At least I knew what I was doing when I arrived.
I hoped that falling in love would set me going in some sort of direction. It does not seem to have done so. Perhaps it just replaced my slowly building lack of unbearable suffering.
“Nuke to wear one of the girls we operation fat” - Bill Gate
Int. afternoon, dining room
A and B sit across from each other. Both looking into empty space, holding desperately onto their mugs of coffee. If they let go they feel they will certainly float away. A looks up at B
A: I think I’m gonna do it ya know?
B: yeah?
A: It’s been over ten years now.
B: Have you even spoken to her?
A: Only once. Very briefly.
B: Well what did she say?
A: I can’t say it.
B: Could you whisper it into my ear?
A hesitates for a moment then leans across the table and whispers something into B’s ear. We cannot hear what he says. B looks puzzled. A sits back in his chair and takes a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes for a moment, then looks back up.
A: I was in Park Street. I was in the little red tunnel, going underneath the tracks. Going inbound to outbound. She was doing the opposite.
“Confused to grow up baby?”
7/17/2021:
Only a few more days here. Last night I woke up and I finally saw it. After my whole life. Lightning, thunder, and a brief pause…………… Rain. Coming down so hard. Returning life to the dust and to the withered rasps. Cleaning the backs of the coyotes and deer.
7/18/2021:
I am back home in Massachusetts. I didn’t learn anything. I didn’t expect I would. I’m not gonna proofread this either. Let me know if this is too racist or something like that.
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