performative, blocked on nomenclature

 

One month out of the game and everything seemed a okay.  One tube all clogged and fucked but thirty years had passed since smelling the linoleum and everything seemed okay til the bags of air stopped inflating properly.  Then big catcher’s mitt of insolence caught the really big catch, the catch of their life, the last one.  like I said, out of the game and who knows how many prayers were dropped and then later people slipped on those prayers and brought them back home when they stuck to the bottoms of dirty shoes.  And then everything seemed okay, clean coats giving the vaginal signal and that was the first and last visit in three decades.  Everything hunky dory (is there life on….) and sighs and drinks and the delayed communication had a rhyme and reason. Everything that followed was third, fourth, fifth hand accounts.  Right before the dawn, need to step on fresh linoleum.  Politely asked for assistance from the shared chronicler.  All went well. Then back to the dreamland so thought the second chronicler who remained standing while the first lay down back first.  then chin on chest and that was it.  all that was written.   Transitioned in a blink, in a breath, in the hesitation before words could be spoken.  Taste of salt?  Maybe, not sure.  Not sure then but later.  Short drive.  Second chronicler pushed his way in, trying to locate the third, initially found the fourth, half naked and stocky.  Kept pushing, kept pushing, found the third, found the third, grabbed the third, bear hugged the third, words thick and garbled, playing to whatever audiences remained, make a show of it, draw attention to it why don’t ya?  Gone, gone, gone.  And then the infernal questions and fresh new prayers but with a dash of admonishment.  A caked on layer of anger and incredulity.  Can’t have that though, gotta be kissing fresh floor one day in a greater white space.  Join together now.  forget everything from before if it ever truly happened.  Join together because it is time to remember things in our own way and delete truths that make us feel icky and uncomfortable. 

Interesting, the exact amount of above.  Gotta break out charli again for the upcoming summer.  Starts off perfectly, ends perfectly.  Sublime stuff.  Wish I had a coke addiction.  Booze is so tacky.  Woke up to…yes, how lovely.  Lace pink panties full of generous ass crushing my face.  Zeroes and ones.  My mouth is so dry.  Making drinking more coffee will help.  Don’t want to get hit.  Oh God, the panties!!! 

Working backwards through the non snow and he was carrying two cold bacon cheeseburgers for the signature light night pre midnight second dinner, this of course following tots for the table and a helping of extra salty dense and disgusting nachos.  Thin man in cowboy hat looked at him and assumed he spoke Spanish because of his innate brownness and the word “gracias” was uttered twice, testing the limits of Spanish language skills.  Elaborate game then not unlike musical chairs or stools, constant switching of which because everyone had to look like the ultimate hardass (don’t forget about Bishop in the tunnel).  One behind usually in a black full body thing, theoretically looking great but ruining it all with a pair of dingy running shoes but still the only one who could properly handle all the wannabes and their desperate need for assertion. Muslim present and accounted for, strong and silent and efficient, modest in comparison to prior iterations which offered up the generous view from the balcony.  Unseen or perhaps not wanting to be seen or see or something.  Another lovely sloppy fatass walking by and the brown confused as to what she was doing there though it was perfectly clear to yours falsely.  Model esque was the brown man’s favorite, cliché and understandable yet somehow fades a bit into the woodwork.  The personal touch was the amazon, the volleyball player, shit hip hop and shittier white trash trailer park rock.  Another glorious fat ass and the lovely requisite strength to strangle a man, absolutely crush him.  Thoughts of her turning into some type of werewolf creature.  Again, those nachos were terrible.  Something blue.  New standard.  Prior the brown thought the then most recent executor (not at all the correct word) was in cozy bedtime garb but this was not at all the case, red and black, just suggests a lack of understanding of current trends though the 90’s grunge aesthetic was also in full effect and then red but not red like the red and black but red up on high and black below, this years beyond and understanding the market place, jiggle and flow while more utter white trash shit rock comes out from somewhere and prior everything was smelling like character driven shit and there was someone present who seemed they might come from Sedona, presence of whom temporarily alleviated the shit smell and it all started on the plane, no the plains, the plain plain plain (just like my life is shame shame shame) oh and somehow went in a circle and forgot to remember a beautiful woman with a big round ass that had strips cut out of the shorts for the audience’s viewing pleasure and multiple going up and grabbing her ass hard to understand everyone’s role in this but the sobriety seems to be helping but the ankle monitor is off soon so who ultimately knows how it will all turn but who really gives a flying fuck anyway and me all along seeing this through someone else’s eyes waiting for the epilogue and limp as a noodle. 

Ate some canned fish recently,  looked at some dirty things that didn’t move me.  still putting off that walk.  Have a new haunt?  Spent most of the previous day walking around with dried sauce on my face but I always lied when people asked what kind of sauce it was.  “why would someone lie about that?!” I ask myself!