The Tracks . . .
are Back
it was on a pin at the antique warehouse. i helped a good christian lady buy a white shelf. or rather i escorted her and jesus did the rest.
but the blonde, long-haired, bearded effeminite voiced man with the tiny muscles did do all the carrying.
robinson crusoe of the pasture. the adventures of the mind outnumber the slumbers of the great outdoors. i'm stuck in the great glass elevator with my mysterious proprietor and some bloody septuagenarians in tow. things are swell but i am wearily easy because there's always more to do to get exactly where one needs to be, which may be nowhere still. i'll let no dust settle on my boots. communication is a funny thing. a splendid, funny valentine absent at the hop, replaced by a card that gets mixed up in the bag. it's tricks and toils always spoiling me rotten.
for those who've always known me knowing i'm intagible, invisible, a bright student of these abilties, row about your merry way carrying on with your geometry getting up, falling down, smiling, laughing, crying day-to-day.. i'm looking to erase the flesh and muscle, strip off the bells and whistles, and leave only the sustaining noise ringing through the air.
i'm lucky my memory is agile enough to continue trying to catch up with itself or else the loss of photographs would be equivalent to blindness. i'd be wasting my breath on dramatics. technology, big business, and the modern world can eat my shorts all day long provided i get mine. i saw old polaroids at the antique shop and . . . this just in
parker bowen coady has hand-crafted his patented "boingy-boings" for the entire family. a simple, myriad amusement made of paper, staples, and heart. you crunch 'em down and they spring right back up just like the incorruptible and pure human spirit. or the relentlessness reinvention of howie mandel's career and skull.
i'm writing a novel with 2.5 billion unfinished sentences. i'm cooking at mcdonald's for 2.5 billion unhappy customers and zero $. but these half-fries taste like good, greasy fun. i need string and glue or paper, staples, and heart to connect the dots and sequins that i scratch off in my dash for the prom.
have you seen the devil and daniel johnston? it's interesting.