Hour Of The Bonfire

Did you ever have an entire dialogue stewing in your head all day and you couldn’t stop it? They say it’s advisable to suck venom from a wound but I don’t think language works that way. It’s not that kind of venom. It’s too abstract. And the scenery isn’t right. Everything is so new now it already feels aphoristic. I’ve never been the piano player in a band before. That’s ok. When the world becomes impossible the best thing to do is bake bread. I learned to swim in Wisconsin. But I didn’t get the full impact until I jumped into ancient mythology. Anyone my age would be able to show you a list of things they once believed that turned out to be nonsense. No need to go into it. It annoys people. It’s easy to be yourself when you’re not around. Think of it as a walk in the forest. The flapping of its wings creates a big lightning. And becomes paper again.

My job is an open secret. I have things to say. I agree, the sidewalk does seem to grimace with prolongation. People look at me like a light bulb filled with blinking ants. I feel the balm of nothingness and fondly reminisce the smells of an old hotel in Memphis. For I am the chitchat bird and this is my story. One night when I was cleaning the barn a molecular storm churned in my muscle and I saw the electric unicorn neon sparkle. And nothing else mattered. This is snowball art not Parcheesi. I found a smaller bit and succeeded at making a hole. I found a universe on the other side of a coconut palm. This isn’t surrealism this is contingency pure and simple. Infinity takes a long time to get here. The letters heat up and I dream on paper I’m twisted like a parachute. I congratulate the toad in a cloud of sprockets and turn to face the sun.

I tried to find a practical use for my pessimism. I should be more optimistic. Were it not for ruining my pessimism. It’s the Hour of the Bonfire. If these words are present to you the past is right behind. It’s where I get all my pessimism. The sound of a drummer brushing a snare drum is like lingerie falling to the floor. How can you not love that? I had to get out of Dodge quick. There was a noise on the ground. It was time to shift gears. Move forward. Put the past in my rearview mirror. I had fun sitting down at a table unfolding my woes. But that was then. This is now. I stand before you a naked oaf. It’s something of a luxury to be dissociated from yourself. Nothing to prove. Just a slice of doorknob pie and a way to punch the unsayable into the sayable.

I once heard it said that deception has eleven elevators and ten combustible gags. I’m paraphrasing. The important thing is to proceed with prudence, and knit. You never know who you’re going to offend. Funny how words come in and out of the language. Take awesome, for example. Awesome is an awesome example of semantic leaching. And it’s a shaky fact that nicknames create chameleons. Glass only pretends to be transparent. I think what it’s really doing is lifting us into the sublime. Listen: I can hear the fish whisper. A piece of fleece in the hand feels amazing. But watch it. It’s so easy to trigger people these days. All I need is a microphone & a frequency. I will rise like Godzilla at a Zillow rally. I have a plan based on spit.

I said goodbye to California just before San José became Silicon Valley, and headed north. I believe spangles have a future. I hope so. I’m completely lost around the auxiliary mode. All those surfaces, lines & angles make a beautiful setting, but I feel awkward around octagons. That said, I’m fascinated by Renaissance plumbing. Go figure. Something there is about a thick white tablecloth that induces good manners. Put a woman’s scarf on it though and things change. Everything turns immoderate and saying anything feels like smuggling a provocative thought across the border of decorum into the realm of anything goes. Which it does. Nobody can control a language. Tell that to the censors. Once you prune a tree you’re forever pruning a tree.

So come on, take my hand, walk with me. Kinesis emboldens temptation. Let’s hurry. I’m feeling chromatic and I want an éclair. It’s one thing to be in love with technique and another to be infatuated with varnish. Nothing is ever truly extracurricular, but if it is, so much the merrier. Everyone imagines the bartender is some form of therapist. This might be. When you start to see people in terms of decibels, and you can’t really function, people can surprise you with their parables. Quantum equations have otherworldly meanings. Kung Pao Chicken, for example. Or life on an island. I need to gain a better understanding of shade. I feel like there’s something there but I can’t see it. Even the prepositions hang loose. That kind of sentence. That kind of day.