Wednesday, September 30, 2009

thoughts (fragments)

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

____ee cummings

юля 3 by mademuaselle

will you leave me my body then? no no she replies. can't do that. i nod, and look at the everpresent mound of clothes and shoes at the centre of her room trying to locate my underwear.


___what's next?
___dunno. what's left?
___life; i guess.
___ok __let's try that then.


mom, your husband lost our bow tie.
what are you talking about?, getchyour own bow-tie.
no. we're sharing.
fine. go find it then.
he lost it.
wait a second [muffled noises through the phone]. ___he says you have it.
go look.
fine. [the first place i look i find it] ___goddammit.
you had it didn't you?

to celebrate i have a bowl of cereal. two 5mg dexamphetamine. a fridge-cooled RedBull.


what are you gonna do tomorrow?

[wake early. have pills and redbull for breakfast. drive my car over a cliff (me jumping out at the last second). i'm going to pimp myself out to a deranged businessmen who will pay $10,000 to have his way with me over a three-day-weekend. that covers fri-sat-sun. but, i'll have to rest for a day or two to let the bruises heal and get over my limp, but by tuesday, i'm going to Wyoming. to Shanghai. to Jakarta. i'm gonna buy a dusty car that makes a lot of noise and looks better and better dirtier it gets. then i'm gonna buy rum pen condoms paper and Ovid's Metamorphoses. (and an ipod). might get a haircut. if i've got a hotel room i'll shave with a plastic shaver i'll get from the 99c store. i'll drink vitamin water and RedBull to be healthy and nutritious. greenapples help the caffeine-comedowns. coffee at 2am helps with the amphetamine-comedowns. i'm gonna eat pancakes. meet skinny women whose knees and ankles and elbows form weird protuberances and when i'm on top and i kiss their chests i will feel the hardness of their ribs. i'll kiss their long toes and their long hair will be everywhere. when they get sweaty their hair will smell like shampoo but when i first met them it didn't smell of anything. then i'll sit at noodlebars and write rubbish and read Ovid and write more rubbish. i'll call my mom and tell her i'm fine. call my dad and tell him to tell mom i'm fine if he speaks to her. (also my stepdad). call my sister and chat about nothing. when i ask her to kiss me through the phone she does. i exhale loudly and say babyface your kisses are the most delicious and she's confused. she doesn't know what i mean by that. at night i have bad dreams or no dreams and nothing in the middle. in the summer i'll buy $5 sunglasses that don't fit my face and leave little red indentations on the side of my nose. i'll take up smoking just so i can chat to people outside of hospitals and bars. i'll take the bus somewhere far and decide it's a good idea to hike the rest of the way. i'll find a trail and eat chocolate bars (to keep nutritious) and drink warm water while i walk. it'll end at a beach or the top of a mountain. i'll sit and pray to a god i believe in. turn the warm water in my mouth and spit it out at my feet. breathe light air. my hair's scratchy by now. i haven't shaved in a while. time for a hotel room. i'll find one. an older woman who needs a distraction. a corrupt pharmacist who tells me about a corrupt physician who refills my med prescriptions for a HJ and some tips on how to encourage his 13 year old daughter to study more. i only have a few dollars left but i buy three homeless guys a bite at a taco stand. meet a wanna-be-singer/songwriter who lists Lady Gaga as an artistic influence. he asks for a cigarette but i decline. instead sharing it with a 3-bit-tranny who impersonates Margaret Thatcher and Woody Allen and the Grand Ayitollah. runs up to some commuters at a busstop and yells something about a fatwah. they don't find that funny but i laugh till i tear. on the 345 bus i meet a girl who's way younger than she looks who lies about her age and refuses to eat mushrooms which she calls 'fungus'. we kiss for the first time in a college library in the Classics section where i'm looking to steal the oldest edition of Sappho i can find. we get to third base in a movie cinema watching an action adventure movie and neither of us ever comes but we hold hands when we walk and when i tell her during dinner that after this fancy meal i'm gonna get in my car to drive off again she cries through the main and dessert. on the side of a highway i meet a man who purports to be the last great suffi in the 'old-tradition' and when i ask what that is he says i have to buy him a drink first so we drink cranberry juice with lime and talk in sombre tones about how great high-threadcount bedsheets are and how Woody Allen's on the right track again. later he asks me if i've ever made-out with a great suffi master in the old-tradition and i confess that i haven't. he asks if i want to and i politely decline. he lists a menu of oddities in case i'm interested in any of them but by the time he gets to #3 footjob using maple syrup as lubricant i freakout and bail. outside i meet a young woman who's happy with her life and happy with herself and everything to-do with her is just fine so i let her lead me to a look-out behind the parking lot on a hillock where you can see the highway and huge expanse of nothingness after that. i feel close to her and akin to her and ask her if i can just please i hope this isn't odd but i mean it totally platonically i just wouldn't you mind if you don't mind that is a hug? of course she says and i even love the way she says of course. back on the road two teenage boys scuffle and i stop to separate them. they're arguing over who's a bigger genius Rachmaninov or Prokofiev and i admit it's a toughie that one. we get milkshakes and use one sheet of my paper and one of my pens to list the pros and cons. later their sister calls and tells them their father is ill and dying and they run off to find a bus or ride back to Ottawa to catch the funeral and sing in three-part harmony with their sister an arrangement of Chopin's marche funebre which they begin practising as they rush off the barstools. i laugh and stare at the pros-cons sheet of paper and smile because i knew the answer all along it's: neither. Shostakovich. eventually the car breaks down and i'm broke and there are no fetishistic businessmen in Darwin anyway, so i get a job at a cafe, until i can get a ticket to Kings Cross where i do find a businessmen and this time score 12k but spend a few months holding my chest when i laugh on account of a broken rib. by now i'm thin like a rake and lick the oil of french fries off my fingers and having not slept for 50 hours straight when we get back to her place, laughing and my hands all over her breasts even when she's trying to unlock the door, i collapse and say please buttercup- let me sleep. In the morning, i promise? she says of course dear and takes my head in her arms and holds it to her breasts and i____]

i've got class at noon.


Ghetto Blaster said...

i felt like i was racing the hourglass during that paragraph.

Jon said...

Big plans for tomorrow, huh?