Saturday, May 15, 2010
78. Appropriate Emotional Response: A Beginner's Guide (Broadcast - Live "Black Sessions"; Microtonics vols. 1 and 2)
*Gestures, in medium shot, towards well-lit jewelry display case, in which SUBJECT is fondly rummaging about*
This one *points to gently faceted pink pill* is for sleeping that special Sleep of the Just. Oh, and next to it, that's for waking up without fear of the previous night. They go hand in hand, that's why they're next to each other.
Yeah, every pill corresponds to an emotional response. and you know, people seem to have, uh, a lot of them, emotional responses. So I carry a lot of these with me, and while my emotional response reaction time might be a little, uh, behind, I can... you know, respond with the best of them. Eventually.
This one is great. *Picks up a gray pill with tiny neon green lettering* This one, I don't know if it ever got to the market, but I got it off the internet, pretty rare. It gives you the feeling that maybe you're taking too many pills. A nagging feeling. Specialized but just the thing at, uh, at times. *Looks at pill for a moment before swallowing it*
I just torrented God. I'm, like, dicking around on the pirate bay, right? And there's this one torrent, it's like, 180 GB or something, and it's called, "NEATO." Well, why not? It don't cost nothing. So I start dl-ing the thing and promptly forget about it. Well, fast forward about a year or something, last week it was a year or something, I remember this old laptop I stuck behind the bed, and it's been downloading this shit all the while and it says "download complete." So I just run the .exe file, cause I forgot I even had the damn laptop so who cares if it fucks up and it sets up. Takes a while. And while the installer bar is getting longer the power is going wiggy and there's lightning and shit. Real fucked up. So it installs and I run it and the command prompt box comes up! That's it! Well, whoop de fuckin do! But then I see that instead of "command prompt" on the little bar, it says "GOD." Alright, I'm not a sucker, I'm the world's biggest sucker. So, for kicks, I just type in 'dir,' right? And fuck me if the name of everyone in the world starts going past, superfast but I, like, somehow know every name as it goes by. Like, I know it's the name of everyone in the world. So that finishes up and I'm like, fuck man, so I make an onion sandwich and come back and I'm macking on this sandwich and I remember Lou Appich, this little fucking weasel rich kid who made my life hell in high school. And he would get his dick sucked because he had a cool car cause his dad had like a Jaguar dealership or some shit. And he would always come by with his posse and take my lunch. Wouldn't even eat it, just take it and spit on it and throw it in the trash. So I'm looking at this GOD prompt and I type 'del lou appich\dick.' That'll teach that fucker. So I forget about it and then I'm watching the news and the guy says "first up: local car salesman loses dick in firearms accident" and I look at my laptop and the fucker is fucking LEVITATING and motherfucker, it is a hell of a life.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
76. Top Autonomous Zones for the Week of May 2-9, 2010 (Harry Pussy - In an Emergency You Can Shit on a Puerto Rican Whore)
2) back of jeff's station wagon (fifth week running)
3) 1052 alameda avenue until the pigs showed up
4) this scenic overlook.
5) penny landsman's uterus (not confirmed)
75. Two- Car Funeral (Tod trauer Trapani - Field Recordings of Sicilian Funeral Bands during the Holy Week)
Jim is setting up a two-car funeral.
"How many cars do we need," he asks.
"Two," I say.
"But there's three mourners," he says.
"One car for the corpse, one car for the mourners," I say.
"Isn't that three cars," he says. I notice he hums quietly after every sentence.
"Two cars," I say.
"But they're wearing formal clothes," he says.
"They'll fit. Jesus," I say.
"So, three cars it is. Say, whose funeral is this," he asks.
"Yours," I say, picking up a hammer.
"Jesus said, 'A grapevine has been planted away from the father. Since it is not strong, it will be pulled up by its root and will perish."-The Gospel of Thomas verse 40, translated by Marvin Meyer
When I came home from work, they were just finishing up. The panel van says KI Landscapes and has a sticker on the bumper that says "Free Soviet Jewry in Each Package." h, right, ha ha. And then I looked at the house.
They had taken the ivy down, ripped it right out of the stucco wall, leaving huge holes. We told em, trim it up, you know, don't wanna get too shaggy cause the neighbors might get restless. Well, they did that all right. The fucking plaster is falling out of these fucking POTHOLES in my house.
And the grapevines... we had planted the grapevines after Laura's second miscarriage. She said it might be good to get something living, something we could watch grow. I said fine, it would be a lot easier than having a kid around doing a Linda Blair act 24/7. I didn't say that last part aloud. So we got an arbor for the front walk and planted some concord grapes. I didn't have to water them so they were ok by me. And it had been a couple of years, a couple of desperate years and they too were getting shaggy so we asked KI Landscapes if they could, you know, trim em up. Cause you don't get any fruit unless it's on new growth.
So these fucking morons cut the loving grapevines down to nubs. And I know Laura is gonna say it's my fault... I walk over to the side yard and there's the guy, KI i guess, and his 12-year old son piling all our grapevines and grapes in a big heap.
"Hey," I started. The older guy grunted without looking up and the kid, some kid with a big-ass flop-mop of shiny black hair looks up and smiles.
"Y'all went a little far with the landscaping."
The older one gave a redneck version of the gallic shrug. I started to say something, when suddenly it hit me that there was fuck-all i could do, I couldn't fucking GLUE the fucking vines back. I reached for my wallet and handed the older guy the forty bucks, and he walked towards the front yard. He turned around before disappearing. "Kento, see if you can bring me them clippers."
I don't know why, but being left alone with the kid... maybe cause he can't fight back... I wanted to just break his face, just wipe that grin right off. I counted to ten, twenty, finally said, "You know, we've been growing those for a couple of years, and uh, they had a lot of grapes on em."
The kid picked up his dad's clippers and looked at the pile.
"All the grapes are still there," he said, pointing.
"Yeah. They are, I guess" I said.
They left and I wondered if i had enough time to go to the store for a quick beer and some mint gum before Laura came home. I was just starting to walk there when she pulled up. She looked at the house with horror.
"Hey honey. It's ok, honey" I said. "All the grapes are still there."