If you manage to read thru all this, I would love some input/criticism. I know the subject matter may be a little trite, but I find it very fun. Where do you think this could go?
Las Hormigas—the worker ants—were all in a row, blinking intentions, muttering about bills. I’d been awake for two days, my jolly morning grin really a splash of hysteria—there was some chemical jester whispering about sex behind my ear in the back seat. A green smell—if green can have an odour—for days it lifts from yr bad breath but you can’t put a finger on it.
Needed to get away from that strange woman in the motel. Last night she farted while we fucked and this morning I missed the methadone clinic. The mid-morning heat had my sweater off so I took down to the river. Took a nap in some shady sand, waiting for the nothing-going-on to pass on by. In sweaty sleep my limbs got numb from lack of circulation, you know the scene and I thought about—stop!, you flirty thinker you, you lingerer of the obscene. Could not get the stills flashing out of the brain, frame after crude frame. After noon went down to the water, splashed my face just like in the movies, you know what I mean. But anyways, it was kinda salty and brown. There was a diaper.
To less shock than one might think, I watched Neal Cassady’s head poked thru the film on the surface, rose from the depth of the stream. Our eyes met and his were a blue like the electric shock of arousal, a vibrancy like a godly hum of fifty high-C’s. Naked, he walked onto the beach.
He wasn’t wet and he had no genitals. Wings shot out in a brushing sweep, the sound of your spirit bird (like the black owl following me last night on the freeway). Ambiguous brother of my ether, my giggles, my giddy jazz shoes. He was a holy goof and my arms were wrapped around myself, covering my head from sheer brightness, ultra-violet.
“A kiss from your mother. Your father likes your five-year-plan. God made you into a less-smart Jack. You know, for perspective and such. Discipline, etc.” he said and ended with a high chuckle. “Here is a flashcard with every word that you know.”
I was frozen in comfort, stimulated still though too, full-muted attention. My bell was rung, for his presence was humming into my abdomen, my gut all aflutter. Okay, so a hallucination, but I reached out for the card.
Blink. And back on the road again, swerving around cars and just jamming. Irresistible roar of guitar music; king kong drum-smacking; that thick, dumb punching bass line. A growl. I’m going somewhere. A man on a journey is a stranger coming into town. The pure dawn light perverted by the dark horseman. That smirk again. A dog probably whining.
The arrival into brown town was copless. One CHP on the way already pulled over ‘nother car. Taking notes, keeping speeds when needed. Sunglasses, Visine, etc. Staying awake, keeping things alive, on edge.
Drove past the strips of industry, the downtown kids with their skateboard sneers, the suits out to lunch with ties tossed over shoulders, that one gal at Corporate Coffee. Was beginning to feel a drag in my wind, one of many results of overuse of the physique. I stopped for some fuel at the liquor store before I drove to the foothills.
There was dust. Not like it matters; car nor body been washed in some time.
Petty decent light too, the sun setting, the dust causing clouds and backlit pink swirls. Jay pulled up, parked next to mine. Swedish sedan, crusty vinyl seats with those flakes and skin tags, you might know the type. We greet. Yeah, good weather and things and what’s up this evening oh nothing much, usual biz. We know why were here…
He unsheathed the glass mushroom—the device for meth consumption. A curious phallus frosted from the inside with hydrochloric amphetamine resin. Always with the penis. (The flashing frames of yellow film…tho I guess now we all think in pixels, or at least memories are now brittle with low resolution.) He loaded the—well, apparatus with the shards. That’s what you call ‘em, shards. I started getting embarrassed. “Hey, I know I saw you last night, but I was up all night last night working on this paper and well, I’m just tired and I’ve got to finish this—“
“ ‘S’all good baby. I understand.” Silence again, awkward, but at least now I knew he’s a tweak too.
He finished loading the device and dug around in his pockets for a while, finally retrieving a torch lighter. His finger nails painted black and there was a whiff of ambiguous sexuality. He fired it up and I watched him twirl the pipe, I anticipating, pacing, and he like a rock. I figured he’d been doing this awhile. He brought the thing to his mouth and inhaled, holding it in quite dramatically. Thirty seconds later he leaned into me, tilting his head ninety degrees, he parted his lips and brought them to me. My eyes widened.
“Uh, what are you doing?” I said.
“Phiff. Damn it dude! I was trying to share. See, once you take a hit you can hold it in and then re-use the smoke to blow into another’s lungs. This shit ain’t cheap, you know.” And he gave a wry smile.
“I’m sorry man. Alright well, I guess that makes sense….But listen, I’m not like that. I mean, I don’t swing that way, not even when—“
“It’s okay. Just pay attention. Conserve.”
Still rocking, but the knob turned down for lack of attention. Late for the job, mustard on the thick polo cloth. Rougher fabric than desired. I’m a sensual man; I take baths.
Florescent lights much too bright and everything was now yellow skin and sunken eyes, minds numb with stimulants, too up for boredom, every pizza a detailed car. How many hours? How many spent wasted in a the hall ways, waiting for deliveries? Wake up, you need to get this to north side.
Blink.
Las Hormigas—the worker ants—were all in a row, blinking intentions, muttering about bills. I’d been awake for two days, my jolly morning grin really a splash of hysteria—there was some chemical jester whispering about sex behind my ear in the back seat. A green smell—if green can have an odour—for days it lifts from yr bad breath but you can’t put a finger on it.
Needed to get away from that strange woman in the motel. Last night she farted while we fucked and this morning I missed the methadone clinic. The mid-morning heat had my sweater off so I took down to the river. Took a nap in some shady sand, waiting for the nothing-going-on to pass on by. In sweaty sleep my limbs got numb from lack of circulation, you know the scene and I thought about—stop!, you flirty thinker you, you lingerer of the obscene. Could not get the stills flashing out of the brain, frame after crude frame. After noon went down to the water, splashed my face just like in the movies, you know what I mean. But anyways, it was kinda salty and brown. There was a diaper.
To less shock than one might think, I watched Neal Cassady’s head poked thru the film on the surface, rose from the depth of the stream. Our eyes met and his were a blue like the electric shock of arousal, a vibrancy like a godly hum of fifty high-C’s. Naked, he walked onto the beach.
He wasn’t wet and he had no genitals. Wings shot out in a brushing sweep, the sound of your spirit bird (like the black owl following me last night on the freeway). Ambiguous brother of my ether, my giggles, my giddy jazz shoes. He was a holy goof and my arms were wrapped around myself, covering my head from sheer brightness, ultra-violet.
“A kiss from your mother. Your father likes your five-year-plan. God made you into a less-smart Jack. You know, for perspective and such. Discipline, etc.” he said and ended with a high chuckle. “Here is a flashcard with every word that you know.”
I was frozen in comfort, stimulated still though too, full-muted attention. My bell was rung, for his presence was humming into my abdomen, my gut all aflutter. Okay, so a hallucination, but I reached out for the card.
Blink. And back on the road again, swerving around cars and just jamming. Irresistible roar of guitar music; king kong drum-smacking; that thick, dumb punching bass line. A growl. I’m going somewhere. A man on a journey is a stranger coming into town. The pure dawn light perverted by the dark horseman. That smirk again. A dog probably whining.
The arrival into brown town was copless. One CHP on the way already pulled over ‘nother car. Taking notes, keeping speeds when needed. Sunglasses, Visine, etc. Staying awake, keeping things alive, on edge.
Drove past the strips of industry, the downtown kids with their skateboard sneers, the suits out to lunch with ties tossed over shoulders, that one gal at Corporate Coffee. Was beginning to feel a drag in my wind, one of many results of overuse of the physique. I stopped for some fuel at the liquor store before I drove to the foothills.
There was dust. Not like it matters; car nor body been washed in some time.
Petty decent light too, the sun setting, the dust causing clouds and backlit pink swirls. Jay pulled up, parked next to mine. Swedish sedan, crusty vinyl seats with those flakes and skin tags, you might know the type. We greet. Yeah, good weather and things and what’s up this evening oh nothing much, usual biz. We know why were here…
He unsheathed the glass mushroom—the device for meth consumption. A curious phallus frosted from the inside with hydrochloric amphetamine resin. Always with the penis. (The flashing frames of yellow film…tho I guess now we all think in pixels, or at least memories are now brittle with low resolution.) He loaded the—well, apparatus with the shards. That’s what you call ‘em, shards. I started getting embarrassed. “Hey, I know I saw you last night, but I was up all night last night working on this paper and well, I’m just tired and I’ve got to finish this—“
“ ‘S’all good baby. I understand.” Silence again, awkward, but at least now I knew he’s a tweak too.
He finished loading the device and dug around in his pockets for a while, finally retrieving a torch lighter. His finger nails painted black and there was a whiff of ambiguous sexuality. He fired it up and I watched him twirl the pipe, I anticipating, pacing, and he like a rock. I figured he’d been doing this awhile. He brought the thing to his mouth and inhaled, holding it in quite dramatically. Thirty seconds later he leaned into me, tilting his head ninety degrees, he parted his lips and brought them to me. My eyes widened.
“Uh, what are you doing?” I said.
“Phiff. Damn it dude! I was trying to share. See, once you take a hit you can hold it in and then re-use the smoke to blow into another’s lungs. This shit ain’t cheap, you know.” And he gave a wry smile.
“I’m sorry man. Alright well, I guess that makes sense….But listen, I’m not like that. I mean, I don’t swing that way, not even when—“
“It’s okay. Just pay attention. Conserve.”
Still rocking, but the knob turned down for lack of attention. Late for the job, mustard on the thick polo cloth. Rougher fabric than desired. I’m a sensual man; I take baths.
Florescent lights much too bright and everything was now yellow skin and sunken eyes, minds numb with stimulants, too up for boredom, every pizza a detailed car. How many hours? How many spent wasted in a the hall ways, waiting for deliveries? Wake up, you need to get this to north side.
Blink.
