December 9th, 2007


i know the god damn hollow & the hollow knows me.

it kind of works like a juke box. put a couple of quarters (drinks) in me & i'll sing. i'll adagio you slow, i'll presto you quick. but you don't need a waltz to catch that two of the beats are missing. chatter/shadow boxing with hydrozoa on thursday, out to the union hall, a night late for science. i just secretly want to wander in the cold till i get lost. maybe fall through ice. there is a real drone on, video game music. saturday is kromelizard's birthday, & i trundle out to fordmadoxfraud's with him & wolvus: maggie & james, then finally christopher. no dante? on a date? bastard! the drugs are quick: soon we're mired in the labyrinth, then it is the greatest hits of krypton. christopher & i slink out last, or mostly last. i never called jenny to tell her i was staying later than i guessed, or to tell her i was coming home. inconsiderate. today i hung out with her, watched the mediocre tin man. then i met up with bernie at bar reis for alternating talk & distraction. we pair then crashed aquestrian & martak's date with dark haired girl. so here i am. does it make you feel better, doctor? all the sand in your hourglass?
  • Current Music
    crown me king- HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
chomping pearls

cucumber green, that is how it comes to you.

it works like this: the genetics of thought are the shedding scales of the old ones. the things thought? are rotting hunks of squidded goo. the men in black will tell you all about it if you just ask them. when they visit you, abduct you. forget the material world: there couldn't be anything less essential to the alchemy. that machine is bleeding to death, like the man says. & who you are probably doesn't exist. fever. little else to distinguish it. so you sit there with a head full of the generative spunk of fiends & angels. with five-pointed ideas, older than the cinders of the sun. the black, formless stuff vomited up by daemon sultans. don't brag that you have a body made of star bones. you could have a mind made from god guts, if you were a wizards. otherwise, you go on being your fascinating animal self. i'll be mounting up for war. polishing the dark iron of the unthings fallen teeth. an army put together, humpty dumpty picked up, in pieces.
  • Current Music
    crown me king- cool lulu
mano negra

i was pretty sure it wasn't alive?

or instead of talking calliope music can just pour out of my mouth. you could say "did you hear about the haunted..." & i'd just be making eldritch whistling. "that haunted merry go round," you might finish. i can't tell the difference between a ghost & a halo? something is tight around my neck. "why are they always playing entrance of the gladiators? is the circus in town?" as i gasp & wheeze. doot doot doodle. hey rube, i'd say. it turns out i can make calliope music & carnie slang. aren't i a lucky guy. the stars are right! hey, i shouldn't be complaining. normally i just make this sort of white noise static buzz, this sort of sonar-fuzz that doesn't make sense unless you are SETI. also i speak grotesque. it is not a language but i can do it. it says so right here on my character sheet. secret truth: all helicopters are manta rays.
  • Current Music
    crown me king- anti-sex league