{ 12 } .. . condemned

lists are the bondo of personalities

Deep in the heart of darkest utopia, I heard the alarms clangity-clanging away at the coming doom. Man, they sure don’t make it easy to get some shut eye; they don’t make it easy to ignore their screams. I’m tightrope-dawdling along the broken sidewalk, trying not to draw attention in this tone-deaf neighbourhood. I feel like barking in a foreign tongue, vibrating my dangling uvula like a well-used punching bag. Oh yeah, baby, I’m ready to roundhouse some circus freakshow exhibit now, to show them who’s boss in this sprawling home of the knave.

Big top, screw top, mop top, they’re all the same to me.

But you know, I don’t really begrudge them their lucky privilege, I don’t hold their appalling lack of taste against them. Hell, someone has to keep wearing those goddamned white loafers, since all the salesmen got smart a couple of generations ago and started dressing like golf pros.

And in the end, really, the love they crave, is equal to the love they stave. Hehe, just what the world needs, salesmen making more salesmen – could really drive a houseclown to drink.


spiral scratch
bullshit .. . { the dishrags, vancouver complications }
fuck with dre day .. . { dr dre, the chronic }
na na na na naa .. . { kaiser chiefs, employment }

{ 01 } .. . charlatan

all you need is cash, or decent credit

Stringing words together with little rhyme and less reason, just flowing with the slipstream, getting tossed about by the hidden nuggets underneath the swirling currents, now wouldn’t we have a time? In the humble days of February, balanced between start and end, at the heart of the month, all I see is a sea of red, an ocean of calamine lotion, a salve for some amorous itch.

How does that tidal wave grow? Mercy at ruby fingertips, patience with a virtuous twist, a vice on twitchy impulse, the syncopated rhythm driving me steadily onwards, eyes blinded by the rushing liquid, ears blunted with the pressing water. All I can rely on is the probing touch of my splayed out limbs.

I’m starfish somersaulting, a spinning blob of barely held together protein, sailing through this siren studded archipelago, each one trilling their alluring songs, and I can’t help but listen even as I speed towards a hard landing on one of those rocky shores.

And when the sea recedes, when the strong winds dry me leather, this heartland troubadour will lullaby my stagnant thoughts, with words like fortune telling bones tossed carelessly on the sand. Now, how does that feel?



spiral scratch
that’s all it took .. . { gram parsons, gp }
how long has this been going on? .. . { ella fitzgerald, ella sings gershwin }
venus .. . { television, marquee moon }