Having my way with Ulysses

A beacon ever to the stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.

Qui donc, si ce n'est un homme, vous a mis dans cette fichue position? C'est le pigeon, Joseph.Holy Mother Public Relations
8:00 pm

Recording No. 1132.  The memoirs of Mary, Holy Virgin, Mother of God, Star of the Sea, Pillar of Ivory, Mystical Rose, Beloved among Joseph are you recording all that shit?  Holy Je, uh.  Shit!  Can’t say the bloody kid’s name or he shows up every damn time.  Chrackers!  It’s just not the same.  Get on with it for the love of before I forget what I want to say and CEO Holy Mother Public Relations.  Memoir notes.

Mary:  Can you hear me?  Start?  Right.  The rite of Onella, the torch-light.  So he’s ready but you’re not.  And then he thinks, better wait and now you’re in bed with a man holding back for all he’s worth.  Just what we’re looking for from a man, eh chicas?  There he is teetering and then 32 feet per second per second takes over and now he’s falling.  Or he’s in that kairotic sweet spot between potential and kinetic and hey look at me, I’m extending the moment.  Nooooooooooow.  But just for you buddy.  Give me rising, not falling.  So I push and out with him.  Girls, size them up before you let them in your bed, you listening?  Talk to each other, tell your sisters what he does and won’t do. Life is too short to let any cholo climb in your windows just because he looks good and has flowers. Telling you about the motion of the ocean. It’s the size of the wave, girls, and unless you talk to each other, you don’t know what you’re getting.

Joseph:  Mary?  Mary, can you hold off?  For just a minute?  Having some technical difficulties with the equipment.

Mary:  He think’s a minute is enough.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

What a persuasive power that girl had!

He siezd the boy in his immortal hands While Enitharmon followd him weeping in dismal woe Up to the iron mountains top & there the Jealous chain fell from his bosom on the mountain. The Spectre dark held the fierce boy Los naild him down binding around his limbs the accursed chain O how bright Enitharmon howld & cried Over her son. Obdurate Los bound down her loved Joy. 8:02 pm

So here’s how its done.  First, get your syringe of medicine or whatever it is ready and a pillowcase too.  Distract them with the television or something, but don’t let them lean back on a couch or anything or you’ll have a harder time.  Best to do it when they are standing.  So, once you have your materials ready, you sneak up behind the little brat and stuff their arms into a pillowcase behind their back. Then lay them down as fast as you can on the floor.  They’ll be kicking and screaming bloody murder and that’s ok; the screaming keeps their mouths open until they see the medicine coming.  This is why you have to act fast because the little shit is going to be working against you from here on out.  Make sure when you get your little angel to the floor that the weight of their body on the pillowcase pins their arms inside.  Then, straddle the little darling’s head with your knees and squeeze to hold the head in place.  Your particular little brat might be a biter, so watch out!  Squeeze with your knees but don’t crush, as much as at this point you’d like to, am I right?  Then pinch the kid’s nose closed and hold there until they open up.  Shoot that medicine in there as fast as you can.  Here’s a tip — it helps to aim for the cheek because you could cause a gag reflex if you go for the back of the throat and you don’t want to get puked on!  Keep holding the little lovely’s nose until they swallow.  It’s either swallow or stop breathing at this point, and they’ll make the right choice every time.  No praising them after for getting through it.  That just encourages them.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Cissy’s quick motherwit guessed what was amiss

[A Child comes in screaming.] Miss Notable: Well, if that Child was mine I'd whip it till the Blood came; Peace you little Vixen! If I were near you, I would not be far from you.

8:04 pm

So if you are just pulling his pants down and not off all the way, the danger is them peeing all over themselves and you.  Then you have a kid covered in pee and you might not have extra clothes.  Hold him up with your arms around his chest and lean him forward about 45 degrees.  He’ll have to be in charge of his own penis, just cross your fingers that he doesn’t spray everywhere or dribble.  Try to pick a spot pointing downhill.  Oh, and go behind something; there’s always some perve or other watching.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

(The girl chums had of course their little tiffs from time to time like the rest of mortals)

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to violence, the word and the act. While violence cloaks itself in a plethora of disguises, its favorite mantle still remains: sex. Violence devours all it touches, its voracious appetite rarely fulfilled. Yet violence doesn't only destroy, it creates and molds as well. Let's examine closely then this dangerously evil creation, this new breed encased and contained within the supple skin of woman.8:06 pm

Along with Cissy Caffrey, Edy Boardman is one of my best friends.  She’s the only one I told about, oh God this is embarrassing, but I want to be real so anyway, she’s the only one I told about those discharges I was having.  TMI, I know!  And she said that her mom told her sister she should take iron supplements for the same thing and that I should too so I did and I don’t feel so beat up all the time now.  Edy is my best friend and she totally has my back.  Not like Bertha Supple who was trying to trash talk me and once I went up to her and a bunch of other girls and she kept right on talking about me like I wasn’t Right There!  What a total bitch.  That was around the same time that Edy told Bertha that I had extensions in my hair which was a deliberate lie and then Edy pretended to give me a hug but smeared gum in my hair so I’d have to cut a bunch of it off.  Total bitch.  I used peanut butter to get it out and only had to cut a tiny bit and it doesn’t show, plus I covered it up with clip ins.  Well I’m not going to let that bitch mess with me, fuck that shit, so I waited for her after school and was like where’s the bad bitch at?  Where’s the bad bitch at? so she’d know I’m not scared of her bitch ass.  And she came out and said what you gonna, fucking jump me?  I said no grabbing hair, no scratching, no going for the face and then I fucking whooped that bitch’s ass.  I grabbed her right by the hair and pulled her head down so I could slam my knee right into her face and Bertha was screaming get the fuck out of here you cunt and I was like fuck that shit cause she was pissed that I stole her boyfriend so Bertha gets all into it and then so does Cissy screaming don’t fucking lay a hand on her stupid bitch get the fuck off her and Edy got out from under me and kicked me right in the mouth then said you’re fucking ugly stupid bitch and I said but I got your man bitch and she said you’ve got my man?  You’re so ugly you can’t have a man, bitch!  What a total cunt.  And all because she’s jealous I have better hair and I don’t have to try to be beautiful.  Whatever.  We’re over it.  She’s my best friend, along with Cissy.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Little recked he perhaps for what she felt

You wanna know my thing? If I really have it solid for a girl, I'll ride by her house on my bike. I'll do it, like, a hundred times in a day. It's really... it's intense.8:09 pm

I have a secret and you have to promise not to tell Cissy.  Edy guessed, because she wouldn’t have said that just now about who is little Tommy’s girlfriend.  She thinks that just because my man isn’t riding his bike past my window anymore that he’s over me or something.  But love isn’t like that!  Mrs. Gerty Wylie.  Edy wouldn’t know love if it bit her on her ass.  (Like Reggie would ever ride his bike in front of her skank ass house!)  Not like me.  Love is indescribable! Or just so _________ that I don’t want to box it in by describing it.  It’s like Christmas morning.  It’s like being on the best drug ever.  I’ve never been in love before this, so that just proves I’m able recognize it because now it is totally real.  I can say “I love him” and really know I mean it.  That’s how I know I’m in love.  And it will be just like that for Reggie too, soon enough.  Give him time.  He only stopped riding his bike past my window because he is still in school and his dad wants him to study to go to college and be a doctor.  Mrs. Dr. Wylie!  He’ll be a doctor and I’ll be like a princess and he’ll be a doctor prince riding in on his white horse to rescue me!  Love is so hard.  I feel a dull aching void in my heart.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

But she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a five, and never would ash, oak or elm

(what a pairfact crease! how amsolookly kersse!) breaking over the ankle and hugging the shoeheel, everything the best 8:12 pm

Edy Boardman thinks she’s so cute just because she’s skinny.  But have you seen her feet?  Ugly and wide.  Not like mine with my high arched instep.  Perfect.  My feet look good in shoes too and my shoes are always nicer than Edy’s.  She’s totally jealous of my blue ones too, HA!  They match my panties which are blue for luck because brides always wear blue ones with different colored ribbons.  I’m wearing them inside out for luck and lover’s meeting because Reggie is probably out somewhere, I just know it.  Except it’s Friday, so that might reverse everything.  Hm.  I wonder if I can slip them off and turn them back right side out without anybody noticing.  Don’t look.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful.

Lady, you are the fairest here8:14 pm

You are lovely, Gerty, you know that don’t you sweetie.  Oh pobrecita, please don’t cry.  I see your face, so infinitely sad, wistful, but chica your face is going to freeze that way. You’re doing the ugly cry honey, I’m here to tell you it doesn’t look good.  Yes, you need to have a good cry, let off those pent-up feelings, but honey.  Honey.  The snot.  Here, blow.  You are getting all blotchy and your eyes are going to swell up.  Take a peek, go ahead.  Look at me.  See?  Now come on, you know how to cry nicely in front of me, let’s take it down a notch and try again.  There you go.  That’s better.  Now I can give you a nice lovely reflection.  You are lovely, Gerty.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

For riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward.

Well, then, why do you make it a reproach against the others that they are silent, and remain silent yourself? Easy to answer; Because I am a dog; in essentials just as locked in silence as the others, stubbornly resisting my own questions, dour out of fear. To be precise, is it in the hope that they might answer me that I have questioned my fellow dogs, at least since my adult years?

8:19 pm

I know what I want and I’m not afraid to wait for it, although he better hurry up and get here soon!  I want a real man with a strong face.  He can be older than me, hair a little flecked with grey like that pervy guy sitting over there, and he’ll get me, you know?  He’ll be able to just look at me and just know, you know?  And we’ll move in together some place where I can decorate everything so it is exactly perfect, and I’ll bake things and make food for him, but I don’t want him to see me like actually eating because gross.  We’ll eat salads made of flowers and our house will be full of cool furniture and art and we’ll have a framed picture of Grandpa Giltrap’s dog Garryowen who, like, talks!  You should hear him.  It’s like he thinks he’s a person or something.  And my man will be tall, and have broad shoulders, and nice teeth white, but not neon glowing white or be like Captain Veneers or something.  And every morning before he goes off to work and I stay home to be a fashion designer he’ll give me a big hug and gaze into my eyes.  He’ll be perfect, you know?  Like I don’t want to end up with a total douche.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

She said she wanted to run and pay a visit to the Miss White.

Different though the sexes are, they intermix. In every human being a vacillation from one sex to the other takes place, and often it is only the clothes that keep the male or female likeness, while underneath the sex is the very opposite of what it is above. Of the complications and confusions which thus result every one has had experience.

8:19 pm

Don’t call me Cissycums you prissy little bitch.   I’m sick up to here with your fake prudery.  Scandalized because some pervert on the beach might hear.  Let him hear! I’d fuck him just as soon as I’d look at him.  Oh don’t look at me.  Come on.  Why waste makeup, let’s go have some fun.  Anything for a peaceful life.  Give me a minute, first I gotta rock the port-a-john, you know, drop the kids off at the pool.  Gotta hittery the shittery.  Got a light?

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Beseeching her to intercede for them.

Oh, drink to Mary we believe that without sin she didst conceive. Teach us Mary how thus believing, we can sin without conceiving.Holy Mother Public Relations, Inc.
10th Heaven

Meeting Minutes

Date:  June 26
Time:  8:22 pm
Location:  10th Heaven conference room C, Empyrean building
Purpose:   Intervention for Mary Star of the Sea, The Virgin of Virgins, etc.


Mary Star of the Sea, Holy Mary, Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother inviolate, Mother undefiled, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most prudent, Virgin most venerable, Virgin most renowned, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most faithful, Mirror of justice, Seat of wisdom, Cause of our joy, Spiritual vessel, Vessel of honor, Singular vessel of devotion, Mystical rose, Tower of David, Tower of ivory, House of gold, Ark of the covenant, Gate of heaven, Morning star, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Help of Christians, Queen of Angels, Queen of Patriarchs, Queen of Prophets, Queen of Apostles, Queen of Martyrs, Queen of Confessors, Queen of Virgins, Queen of all Saints, Queen conceived without original sin, Queen assumed into heaven, Queen of the most holy Rosary. Queen of the family, Queen of Peace, Queen who forgets her limits, Queen a little volatile, Queen who sometimes has Blackouts, Queen found Puking and Shitfaced Drunk just outside of Conference Room C not 6 hours ago. And others who wish to remain anonymous. [Lizzy Twigg, Cassandra, Joseph, Anne, Jesus]


1.  Gently, oh so very gently introduce Mary to the possibility that she might have a slight, hardly noticeable really, not even anything to worry about, issue with drinking just a bit more than she ought.

2.  If Mary seems at all receptive, which would be an enormous step on its own, introduce her to the 12 steps.  Gently or we’re totally screwed.


1.  Lizzy T. explained to Mary that she might consider becoming Our Lady of Temperance and C. added that Our Lady of Perpetual Kindness can be rather an angry drunk.  Mary expressed that C. is a washed up hack not to be believed and Lizzy T. is a literary groupie whore who is probably stoned off her ass right now as we speak.

2.  J. attempted an explanation of his feelings concerning the state of martial affairs and a little more encouragement in the bedroom might be nice.  I mean, it’s not the size of the wave that counts.  Mary suggested J. get back to taking meeting minutes in the kiddie pool and honey, it’s the size of the wave.  It’s always the size of the wave.  Besides, the motion of J.’s ocean is a drop in the bucket to somebody who’s come face to face with a tsunami.

3.  Mary wanted to know who the hell invited her mother.  A. said who said she wanted to be here she had better things to do.  Mary said then go do them.  A. said Mary was giving her an anxiety attack and she is rude and all she’s ever does is damage.  Mary said A. is a controlling hypochondriac who can’t see past her own narcissism to realize that this colossal waste of time is not about her for Christ’s sake.

4. Jesus C. said what the hell is going on here.  Mary said Jesus get back to your father and stop appearing suddenly as if from nowhere.  Jesus C. said big words from somebody who just showed up on the belly of a South American turtle.  A. said in her day children didn’t talk to their mothers like that and no wonder Jesus C. turned out rotten given the upbringing he had.

Action Items:

1. Lizzie T. suggested we discuss the 12 steps another time.  Mary said we can shove the 12 steps right up our power greater than ourselves.

2. C suggested we should give it up now and save ourselves.  She was overruled.

3. Jesus C. will turn all the wine back into water.

Minutes typed by: Joseph
Approved by:  Unapproved

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The picture of halcyon days.

So hath been, love: tis tis: and will be: till wears and tears and ages.
8:23 pm

Sometimes when I go to the throne for a certain purpose I sit and imagine a home placid quiet and still.  I put up a picture in there of a perfect fairytale, the real happily ever after where dads don’t get drunk and violent, and moms act like moms never have raging splitting headaches.  I think about the old time days and I know what the word halcyon means now that I looked it up on Wikipedia.  It means a gentle way of living that happens when you marry the right person, when everybody cherishes every moment and my husband will give me flowers and never get drunk.  I think about poor Mr. Dignam who died suddenly from a stroke and that mom told dad to let that be a warning to him and she’s right too.  Love loves to love love and men with gentle ways understand the story behind it.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Kick it away and let them fight for it.

It is not given to you, nor to any other Being, to behold my internal parts. I am of a different order of Beings from those in Flatland. Were I a Circle, you could discern my intestines, but I am a Being, composed as I told you before, of many Circles, the Many in the One, called in this country a Sphere.8:24 pm

I wish to God those stupid kids hadn’t brought me round to the beach in the first place.  Going around and around over me day in and day out, you can’t blame me for feeling deflated.  And then that little pin head deliberately kicked me as hard as he could and I had no choice but to get right in the middle of the work going on between that pervy guy in black and Gerty.  She might have thought her eyes were masked by her hat, but you’d have to be dense as a bowling ball not to see the exchange of energy going on between those two bodies.  You didn’t see? You didn’t catch it?  Here, I’ll spell it out for you: Work = 1/2mv – 1/2 mu2.  No? Huh. You seem like a well rounded person, I didn’t mean to expose your ignorance or anything.  I always assume people speak my language too.  You’re not two dimensional, are you?  You look round enough.  Here, I’ll take it back a step: Ek = 1/2 mv and when you apply the kind of force Gerty did (I’m talking take two, you understand, how do you kick a ball and miss? Sheesh.) with her skirt hiked up to Canada, you could see her Yukon Territories!  Well these sorts of exchanges between bodies have their own momentum.   I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you for a point mass m rotating about an axis at distance r, the angular momentum, L equals (mv)r = (mar)r = mrw where w is the angular velocity of the body. You know, in radians per second. So clearly, the I = mr between Gerty and Pervy was at this point through the roof and the only way Edy and Cissy could mask their delight at the creepiness of it all was to laugh at Gerty for missing me the first time round.  But everybody knew.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

What the Great Saint Bernard Said

Filled, therefore, with confidence in thy goodness, I fly to thee, O Mother, Virgin of Virgins: to thee I come, before thee I fly a sorrowful sinner.8:29 pm

[Scene:  The Star and Garter Ballroom, Empyrean Building, Holy Mother Public Relations. Mary is irritated, a little drunk, and bathed gloriously in a radiant cloud of flies.  Martha stands defeated with a fly swatter and a can of bug spray.  Miss Bee Honeysuckle nervously buzzes just out of Martha’s reach.]

Mary:  Where the hell is he?

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  He’s be here soon your virgin worshipfulness, we left at the same time but he had to go back to, well, to compose himself a little.

Mary:  Martha get him on the damn phone.  Compose himself?  I’ll decompose him myself if he doesn’t show up now.

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  You know how he is, your heavenly motheringness, he doesn’t like crowds.

Mary:  What crowds?  There’s no crowds.  Show me crowds!  Who will come here with all these damn flies.  Martha!

Martha:  I can’t swat them all, Mary, there must be millions of them.  Oh Christ! There’s one on your eye.

[Jesus appears as if from nowhere while Martha swats Mary in the face]

Mary:  Jesus Fucking Christ when will you stop appearing as if from nowhere!

Jesus:  Hey mom, sorry.  Another fly plague?  And who’s that hiding under that table?

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  [Bright with hope] Oh thank Jesus, you’re here!

Jesus:  No problem.

Mary:  Where?  Bernard, get out from under there you agoraphobic freak!

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  It’s social anxiety disorder, he can’t help it.  But he’s a brilliant exterminator.

Bernard:  Bee?  is it safe?

Martha:  Bernard get your ass out from under that table and get to work!  None of us can do anything until these flies are cleared out.

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  [Keeping a nervous distance from Martha] It’s safe enough.

[St Bernard crawls crablike from under the closest table to the door and on sight of Mary vomits on the floor.]

Mary:  Great.  Now we need carpet cleaners too.  Martha?

Martha:  [With a careworn heart, a toiler for her daily bread] I’m on it.

Bernard:  Sorry about that.  Weak stomach.  I’ll need incense.  Lots of it.

Mary:  Jesus?

Jesus:  I only do food, mom.  Wine, fish, bread.

Martha:  Jesus you useless dumbass.

Jesus:  Hey Martha, how’s your sister?

Martha:  She’s out back sucking balls.

Jesus:  Where?  Out back?  Mom, I’ll go look for incense.  Be back in a while.  Soon.  Be back soon.

Mary:  Oh here.  [Mary claps twice.  Incense smoke wafts from all directions.  The flies multiply]

Bernard:  [With a compelling voice and look] Flies, if ye will not hear the church let thee be to thee as the heathen and publican.  Whatsoever you shall bind upon heaven, shall be bound also in the Emperian building; and whatsoever you shall loose upon heaven, shall be loosed also in the Emperian building.  Flies, hear me now.  You shall be excommunicated at once statim, ipso facto.   Res sacræ, ritus, communio, crypta, potestas, prædia sacra, forum, civilia jura vetantur.

[The flies drop instantly to the floor, dead.  At least three inches deep of the bloody things.]

Miss Bee Honeysuckle [eyes wet with contrition]: Oh St. Bernard, you honey sweet teacher!

Mary:  Thanks, Bernard.  Martha, get a shovel.

Bernard:  No, No, Miss Honeysuckle will do clean up.  No extra charge.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

And, my word, didn’t the little chap enjoy that!

My mother groaned! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud; Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my fathers hands: Striving against my swaddling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mothers breast.8:30:61 pm

Holy Mary he is such a cutie! Cissy and Edy playing peek-a-boo and he laughs like a little angel! So cute. He’ll talk soon, everybody say’s he’s smart for 11 months and big for his age too. He’ll turn out to be somebody important. Just look at him! Look at the size of him! He won’t sit up though, I suppose that’s normal. But otherwise he’s very advanced for his little age. But he can be loud! What were Edy and Cissy thinking, bringing a baby out this late? They should take that screaming little shit home and the little brats of twins too. Getting on my last nerve. Good thing we’re so far from the water here or I’d want to throw him into the ocean! See if he swims. Lucky for him he’s cute. I suppose that’s why. A baby is great and all, but not when it is wet and screaming. But I guess you can’t just box it up and send it back.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The story of a haunting sorrow was written on his face.

The dead you is constantly being rubbed away by the dead me. Your cells fall and flake away, fodder to dust mites and bed bugs. Your droppings support colonies of life that graze on skin and hair no longer wanted. You don't feel a thing. How could you? All your sensation comes from deeper down, the live places where the dermis is renewing itself, making another armadillo layer. You are a knight in shining armour.

8:32 pm

I’m so in love.  Because they always say you just know when it happens and I know because it’s like an instinct, you know?  I feel it.  I can feel it right here.  And it feels like like what, like he is the one that matters the most.  Because it doesn’t matter what he has ever done, you know?  I couldn’t give a shit what he’s done.  Because whatever he has ever suffered or had others suffer, even if he is the worst person possible I don’t care.  That’s what love is.  That’s love.  He can even be a non-Christian too, because I always know what matters most is Jesus and after him Mary and St. Joseph and St. Rose of Lima and after her St. Anthony if you lose something because if he really loves me he will convert no problem.  It’s him.  It’s like I recognize him, you know?  It’s a total recognition like I’ve known him forever because I’m going to know him forever.   I love him and he is my dreamhusband I’ve been waiting for.  See him, sitting over there on those rocks wearing all black.  Sad.  He has sad written all over his face.  I’d give the word to know what it is making him so sad.  He is looking at me and I can see he means it.  There’s something in his look that’s saying words to me.  The words are so clearly there, for me to read and only me.  And he can read my very soul.  He can look right inside me and read me.  He’s reading me now.  He looks a little like a foreigner.  Very cool.  Actually, he looks just like the picture I have of Robert Pattinson taped next to my bed!  I want to know all about him and forgive him for everything ever even even if he even if he was the biggest sinner of them all we can go to hell together and all our friends will be there anyway so that will be even better.  We’ll be together and in love and that’s all that matters.  And I’ll help him forget the memory of his past.  And I’ll make him fall in love with me.  And he’ll pull me to him gently.  And he’ll crush me against him like a real man.  And I’ll be his ownest girlie.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Ora pro nobis

I was asleep but my heart stayed awake. Listen! My lover is knocking. "Open to me, my sister, my friend, my dove, my undefiled one! My head is wet with dew, my hair drenched in the damp of night." But I have taken off my robes, how can I dress again? I have bathed my feet, must I dirty them? My love reached in for the latch and deep within me, my body stirred. I rose to open to my love, my hands dripping myrrh, my fingers flowing myrrh on the doorbolt. 8:34 pm

They have the coolest cuckoo clock on the mantle at Father Conroy’s I saw when I went there about the flowers for the quarantore and when I went to talk to him about the candles it was chiming which was cool.  He’s so nice.  He has the most beautiful hands and he is so kind and good.  You can tell he is holy just by being around him and he is the best for confession because that one time I told him about that thing that happened you know when girls start you know, God this is so embarrassing.  I wish to God that I could talk to you in person face to face because it is still so confusing.  I’m sorry if a little of this gets too embarrassing for you but anyway I told him about the first time I got my period (oh God tmi tmi tmi!) and he was so cool about it and said it wasn’t a sin and that it came from nature and is god’s will for women and all that.  He is so kind and beautiful.  He could be in that pretty priest’s calendar the vatican puts out for world youth day.  I could I could I could knit him something maybe or or maybe get him a clock to go with the cuckoo clock he already has.  No that’s stupid.  What do you give a priest?  I could become a nun and wear a clean white robe and he can come to the convent and pray for me and we could light candles together and he could look into my eyes and then and then bless me and kiss my rosary and he’ll be so holy and kind and beautiful and I would be too and we’d be just like at peace with everything and with each other, you know?  It would be so cool.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

She was a forward piece whenever she thought she had a good opportunity to show off.

What true feeling for their's hayair with what strawng voice of false jiccup!8:36 pm

Cissy thinks she’s so great. I actually called her out when this whole drama with her and Edy was going on because I thought Cissy was being mean. But then I started noticing when people were calling Cissy fake and stuff, Edy was tweeting how happy she was and it seemed to me she was teasing Cissy for being so fake and everything. I mean, Cissy tries to pretend she is so chill and everything but she’s really one of those girls that at first everyone would think is so cool and nice and then something will go down and people will see how fake she is. You can tell in her voice that she’s so fake. She acts like everyone likes her and she thinks she’s so cool. I wish she understood how weird it looks when she runs like that but whatever. And she thinks if she runs in a too tight skirt she can show off her legs as far as possible and possible too. But my guy watching me isn’t even noticing her. I’d like to trip her accidentally on purpose. She is so stupid. I feel like when I stare into her eyes I can almost see the unintelligence.  It’s like looking into the eyes of some weird animal.  She thinks if she acts dramatiker than everybody else, then she’ll be so cool but she’s really so fake. She pretending to be nice to the twins too but she really wants to give them each a smack on the head which they need, the both of them. Her hair is so fake. Not like mine. She’s colored it so much that its gone all dry and bushy and everything and looks like weird semi-curly straw. And she has these bangs that stick out everywhere that she thinks looks good. Anybody with eyes in their head can see the difference between her and me and my man sitting on the rocks is watching me and not her so ha!

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

I’ll run ask my uncle Peter over there what’s the time by his conundrum.

Talis is a word often abused by many passims (I am working out a quantum theory about it for it is really most tantumising state of affairs). A passim may frequent you to say: Have you been seeing much of Talis and Talis those times?8:38 pm

What’s the time?  Well, there’s a conundrum.  I might have to cry uncle on that one. Excuse me, please, I’ll just, I’ll just catch my breath.  My watch.  Have to take my hands out of my front pockets and find my watch.  Don’t mind me. Startled a bit.  Was a bit busy doing never you mind doing what.  What is the time you say?  The time, that irritable little gnat.  Always will be too.  No-one can get on with anything without time poking her nose into what is no concern of hers. It is after dark so the sundial will be shaded.  It takes 24 hours for us to move around the sun.  The diameter of the sun as seen from this beach, when the sun was up you understand, but it is now down, but up the diameter is 1/2 a degree and we call a minute the amount of time, yes, time that gnat, the amount of time it takes to move the length of its own radius.  But this particular minute? Let’s see.  I can count on my hands, Oh look at that, back in my pockets, pardon me.  I do have a passionate nature you understand, and it takes enormous control to determine the time once the sun is gone.  We’ll have to take into account gravity, constant acceleration, the square of time.  What was it that Uncle Peter said about that particle?  It has the same properties viewed from every direction, makes it indistinguishable from empty space so in that sense the time the time.  And given that it decays rapidly on microscopic time scales, please don’t look at my hands, without any intrinsic angular momentum.  I’m spinning!  Your question collides with my purpose.  Of course inside an event horizon time-like vectors become space-like vectors and vice versa.  One can no easier move spatially away from a singularity as one can move backwards in time outside an event horizon.  My goodness, I feel an electroweak symmetry breaking.  And me without my clepsydra!  I do apologize, my watch appears to have stopped at half past kissing time.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Talking about the time all the time.

The ritual extinguishing of fires is to be attributed to the same tendency to put an end to existing forms (worn away by the fact of their own existence) in order to make room for the birth of a new form, issuing from a new Creation. 8:40 pm

I must be getting my cycle again.   I’m all bloated and I can feel everything tight on me, and I was just skinny.  Must be time again because I got it the last time I cut my hair and it was a full moon then too.  Thirteen a year, I wonder what we’d call month 13 and where we put it.  Somebody will come along and name the new month after themselves I’m sure, like the romans did all the time.  June, July, Coca-Cola, August.  It’s coming.   So.  Look at him over there.  He’s watching, starting his watch again.  I’ll just swing my leg a little in and out.  Give him something to see.  See if he can keep time to me.  Wish Edy would disappear.  She’s always there like clockwork to notice everything and point it out too just to try to embarrass me.  Thanks for always pointing out the subtle over and again so it can be nice and obvious you bitch.  Reggy didn’t dump me, we weren’t together this time and what’s it to her anyway.  I can have anybody I want, obviously, I mean look at that guy.  He’s literally worshipping at my shrine!  His look is for me and just for me, and she knows it.  Scrawny ugly jealous bitch.  And Cissy too, fixing the twins’ hair so she can look good.  None of her business what happened between Reggy and me.  I could get him back any time I want to and I don’t want to.  His loss.  He’ll come back around and I’ll be long gone!  Ha!  I’m so much better than all of them and there’s the proof sitting right over there staring right up my skirt.  I hope I’m not starting my cycle.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Love laughs at locksmiths.

The bat that flits at the close of eve has left the Brain that won't Believe.

8:42 pm

I have just this one flaw, and it was just an accident or I’d be perfect.  I’ll be perfect for him and I will do everything I can to make sure of that!  He’ll believe in me.  He is so ideal, is he real?  I want him to come here to me now in the twilight, I’ll hold the baby on my knee and we can pretend it is ours.  And we’ll be together and I’ll be free and he’ll be my all in all.  I believe if I believe as hard as I can then it will be because reality is what we believe it to be.  I wrote that down once and it is so totally true because it is what I believe.  I can be a poet, and I’ll give everything to him and we’ll be happy, even if he is already married or something because who cares, am I right?  Makes no difference.  We’ll get past any obstacle because we’ll be together and nothing else will matter.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Her sweet flowerlike face

In reality everything occurs in a (is) simultaneity: door, smile, and the rest of the elements that make up the pattern appear as facets of links, like a lightning bolt that transforms the glass outside of time. It is impossible to retain this vision, since we don't know how to dis-place ourselves. There remains only an anxiety, a trembling, a vague longing. Something was there, perhaps quite near. And now there is nothing but a rose inside a glass, on this side where a rose is a rose is a rose, and no more. 8:46 pm

I’ll say goodbye using the only language deemed acceptable by the conventions of Society with a big ess.  Here, my love, I send my message in the language of flow wafting softly through the evening and that little bat flying around to and fro just to show what a good bat she is had better not tell.  Little bats don’t tell.  Smell me! Smell me!  Wonder if he is too far to?  I’m no she-rose.  But he’ll forgive me that.  He’ll give me a sweet forgiving smile verging on tears.  There will be no goodbye.  We shall meet again.  Then, tomorrow, in good time or outside of time no matter, and we’ll dream together of yester eve.  Here, right here!  Please, don’t imagine what we will do then, I’m blushing like a girl!  Look at the color of me!

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish.

The Twofold form Hermaphroditic: and the Double-sexed; The Female-male & the Male-female, self-dividing stood Before him in their beauty, & in cruelties of holiness! Shining in darkness, glorious upon the deeps of Entuthon. 8:47 pm

Scene [Tranquilla convent, in the back garden.  The sisters are preparing to receive a novice for initiation into the order.  St. Agatha and Sister Mary Peter wait with ten fingers locked for her to arrive. ]

St. Agatha:  Sister Mary Peter, have you seen my breasts?

Sister Mary Peter:  You left them in the rectory Reverend Mother, shall I retrieve them for you?

St. Agatha:  No, no.  No.  Nuisance they are anyway, really, although I do feel like I lose a charm every time I take them off.  Still, we have a new novice coming and it would be a waste of this whitewashed face and cool coif not to long to appear, well, complete.

Sister Mary Peter: It is a natural craving, Reverend Mother, but you’re looking splendid.  Dressed up to the nines.

St. Agatha.  Never mind, no time.  I can see her coming with my dexter optic!  O look who it is for the love of God! I thought they were dumping Martha on us and instead it’s Lizzie Twigg!  How are you at all?  What have you been doing with yourself? [kiss] and delighted to [kiss] see you!

Lizzie Twigg:  Hello Agatha.  I would have been here sooner but there was all that barbed wire.

St. Agatha:  We do like to cloister ourselves here!  But never mind never mind.  No hurry, my dear sister soul.  I’m just so happy you’re not Martha!  So vindictive for what she can’t get.  Oh my child!  So, here you are, giving up your desire to aid gentlemen in literary work.

Lizzie Twigg:  Yes, I’m done with men.  I loved an Aeon and that ended badly.  Felt like I was drowning half the time.  Now I want to dedicate myself to somebody more, I don’t know, along the straight and narrow.  Linear minded.  Gets us from then to when.

St. Agatha:  Well as a fellow bride of Christ you will have that, even the calendar starts with him, to some end point.  So, let’s have a look at you.  Nice well-filled hose, though they are a bit down around the ankle.

Sister Mary Peter:  Voice like a pick axe, no good for the choir.  Are you lame?

Lizzie Twigg:  No.  My boots are a bit tight though.

St. Agatha:  You might have a high arched instep.

Lizzie Twigg: Um.  I have a question.  I’ve heard things about the sisters here.  That some of you get a bit, well, odd.  I’ve heard about some sisters licking pennies all the time, and wanting to smell rock oil, and all kinds of.  Is this, is this true?

St. Agatha: It’s only the virgins who go mad in the end.  I take it you’re?

Lizzie Twigg: Not. No.

St. Agatha.  I thought not.  You have that I’m all clean come dirty me look.  Now, when was the start of your last menstrual period?  Must have been within the past couple of days.

Lizzie Twigg:  Today.  And it’s awful.  Feels a ton weight.  How did you know?

St Agatha:  The plants are withering.  And the fiddle strings have all snapped.

Sister Mary Peter:  The milk is turning too.

St. Agatha:  Sister Mary Peter, go get St. Patricia, she can coagulate Miss Twigg’s blood.  Now Miss Twigg, we’ll stop your menstruation for now, but you’ll have to get into step with the rest of us.  We all bleed together according to the moon.

Lizzie Twigg:  I’m sorry.  I mean, I don’t mean to be rude or question is it all a fake or anything but, none of you look like, well, like the menstruating type.  No offense.  How many women?

St. Agatha:  Listen sister, we feel it ourselves too, ok, all of us together.  We can be a pack of devils when it’s coming on, I can tell you, especially Sister Mary Peter!

Lizzie Twigg:  She’s a hot little devil all the same.  We were girlfriends at school you know.

St. Agatha:  Oh were you?  And how do you find her now?

Lizzie Twigg:  Well back then she was yours for the asking!  And not to pick holes in her appearance or anything, but she does have fewer teeth than before.

St. Agatha:  Never you mind that now.  We all have bodies, we all have curves inside our deshabillé, but if you are to undertake a novitiate with us you’ll find within our walls sanctity and corporeality intermingle.  Bring your agenbite of inwit, but don’t forget your frillies for Raoul, honey, He likes them both.  Now come with me child, that’s a lovely shirt shining beneath your what? But we must get on with dressing each other for the sacrifice.

2 Responses to Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Why not? Suppose he gave her money?

Her laugh had taken on the tones of an organ, her breasts had succumbed to the tedium of endless caressing, her stomach and her thighs had been the victims of her irrevocable fate as a shared woman, but her heart grew old without bitterness. 8:48 pm

Instructions on how to monetize your body:

1.  Know your market and look to your goods.  You have renewable resources, hair, plasma, words, sex, and the non-renewables: a kidney and a limited supply of eggs. When it comes to hair, plasma, eggs, and a kidney, you have some control of their value in that you can manipulate the quality of your product, but not much.  Mostly you’ll be tied to the market price.  You have much more creative control with sex and words, so best to put your energies there and let the rest take care of itself, keeping an eye of course on fluctuations in the market.

2. Don’t sell in a buyers market. This sounds like economics but I’m talking about art.  Look at me: I’m dripping with skill, due to the maximization of my natural talent.  These things take time to build up so when in a down market, then practice practice, constant practice until the market turns again as all things do. You’ve got all the time in the world, so don’t feel you have to rush to market when a little refinement and fine tuning can mean higher value later.

3. Cultivate an eye for maximizing your earnings.  Start with the basics:  you must have the stage setting, the rouge, appropriate costume, position, music.  And don’t underestimate the earning potential of good stage name,  but don’t paint yourself into a corner being clever.  Dominae Trixie, for example, is a perfectly delightful name.  Brilliant, fun.  But you’ll get a very specific subset of Christian slaves with that one, so be sure your name brings you what you want to get.

4. Now here’s a little trade secret which is what you’re paying me for:  Everything goes down to the strength you give a man.  That’s the secret of it.  That’s what it’s all about.  The men they want to feel power; they want to be strong so be sure to call the boys men and call the men boys.  And don’t call anybody sir, they’ll wish you hadn’t.

5. If you consider the man’s position, and you really ought to do so just this once, the entire transaction much be horribly awkward for them ’till they harden.  The worst is when you find yourself with a man who doesn’t know when to get on with it.  He asks a question, he asks another, and now you are having conversation not excitation. Time is money so move the chit chat along unless there’s dirty talk you have them think they make you say.

6. The words you must speak to get the man to understand you mean “come in, all is prepared” can be the cause of half the trouble, I can’t stress that enough.  So use your instincts.  If you do get stuck in conversation, a change in venue might help and always use experience as your fall back. The men don’t want you to be parrot; none of your press a button and the bird will squeak.  They want a mouth in the dark, honey.

7.  If the man abruptly stops talking but does nothing else, for God’s sake don’t ask what he was going to say.  Such a rookie mistake.  Why give your power to him?  You want him to think he is strong, but you know what’s what.  So this is the moment you go the whole hog, say: I want it, something like that.

8. Flatter them.  What harm?  You can think of somebody else: helps pass the time.  Or even better, and this is my little trick, say things so the man thinks he is taking a woman from another man.  That’s what they enjoy most.  It’s the source of their strength to think they are a bigger man than the last guy.  Oh they’ll pay good money for that.  Ok, little sweetheart, come and kiss me.  Off you go to earn your keep and remember, your cause is sacred.  Now go.

2 Responses to Why not? Suppose he gave her money?

  1. I do not write many comments, but i did some searching and
    wound up here Why not? Suppose he gave her money? « Sly Uses.
    And I actually do have a couple of questions for you if you
    don’t mind. Could it be only me or does it give the impression like a few of these responses appear like left by brain dead folks? 😛 And, if you are posting on other places, I would like to keep up with everything fresh you have to post. Would you list of every one of your public pages like your twitter feed, Facebook page or linkedin profile?

    • Just search for Sly Uses in any of those places, but everything there links back to here. I am developing a new site for my next project, but that one is not ready yet. It will likely be found at verntonkin.com

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Like a cat sitting beyond a dog’s jump.

Beppo the cat watched us out of his eternity but did nothing to save me. Nor did the blue earthenware tiger I have in my bedroom, nor the magicians and genies in the volume of The Thousand and One Nights.

8:49 pm

They know what they are doing, eyes all over them.  Don’t even have to look, they know just what is where and who.  There’s a sense to it.  Walk into a room and feel which ones want what and who wants someone else.  It’s a pressure in the air or something.  I’ve seen it, what am I, blind?  They feel that I want to fuck you feeling coming from some corner or other.  Directly behind.  You think that turns off because of a husband?  Look at Molly after the Glencree dinner, telling me Val Dillon had his eye on her, and she cracking nuts with her teeth like a tiger.  She was sending a message in a bottle and no mistaking it.  And mister lord mayor sir knows a ball buster when he wants one.  She knew her own business on the way home too, and then telling me after about her first kiss with Mulvey up against the Moorish wall.  Just like a woman to camouflage with timing.  And me the blank clock.  She saw, fine eyes too, clear, she saw with her every eye what I wanted to hear and saw to it.  Sharp as needles.  Milly too, practicing in front of a mirror. Gets it from her father, mother I mean.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Her maiden name was Jemina Brown and she lived with her mother in Irishtown.

She was weighing out potatoes, throwing coppers in the till, Three lovely children by her side, the image of brother Bill, Her broken vow, I see it now, but not my fifty pounds, The shop was bought and I was sold by naughty Jemina Brown.

8:50 pm
‘Twas on the beach under rockets bright
And darling, I saw, your. I saw all in sight.
Will she? Watch! See! She turned round all right.
For this relief much thanks. Lord! Thank you, good night.
Felt that ache in the butt of my tongue,
Excitement, projection, o dignity none.
But the ball rolled to her, its chosen one
Each bullet has a billet; crooked shot off a gun. 
Might have made a worse fool of myself,
instead of talking of nothing, small as an elf.
Widow Dignam won’t sit long on the shelf,
What happened? Won’t tell you. Find out yourself.
What’s next? Mrs. Beaufoy, Purefoy in hospital now,
In labor for days with sweat on her brow. 
My shirt’s wet and unpleasant; below I’m stuck, how?
Well the foreskin’s not back, better detach.  Ow!

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Magnetic needle tells you what’s going on in the sun, the stars.

Has there not been Over Man a long period of Time, when he was Nothing -- (not even) mentioned? Verily We created Man from a drop Of mingled sperm, In order to try him: So We gave him (the gifts) Of Hearing and Sight. We showed him the Way: Whether he be grateful Or ungrateful (rests On his will). 8:51 pm

Can a watch stop in despair?  Or from guilt?  Or worse than guilt, what about shame,  there’s a big difference between guilt and shame.  But let’s not talk about shame, let’s talk about me.  Everything depends on your understanding of me and how you create me.  I am your creature, my pet, and I am nothing without you.  Well, not nothing.  Even nothing is something.  Take yourself out of the equation and mathematically I’m still out there, if you insist on thinking geographically which I don’t.  But if you like, I’m out there in some other place from yours.  And I’m linear.  I cycle too, you’ve seen my periodicity but what are you doing standing under the starcase when I’m taking them two three at a time?  I’m circular then.  Spherical.  But that will move and change.  It’s a phenomenon.  I’m phenomenal flux.  Believe me.  Have faith.  Cross my heart and go to endlessness.  I’ll be endless duration.  I make the difference between creature and creator.  I am your creator, my creature, and I am nothing without you.  I am you.  We were never born and will never die.  We are eternity of being.  Lord I’m feeling, how do you say? I feel it like an ache at the butt of my tongue.  What’s that word. I just had it too.  I know it in my language, but it gets lost in translation somewhen between perception and articulation.  Well. You know what I mean.  Maybe it was just magnetism stopped the watch.  Wristwatches always going wrong.  Must be magnetic influence between people, his magnetic personality, and the watch felt it all the way to now.  Larger bodies have greater gravitation fields, perhaps it is her then?  It must be about magnetism.  It’s been the sun, and water flowing out, and fire burning things which worked only so long as people knew what each hour smelled like, sand, machines.  You try building a wheel that turns in perfect synchrony with the equinoctial circle.  If only a magnetic globe could be made to float nicely parallel to the celestial axis.  Yes, magnetism too.  Let’s say I’m that.  That now is magnetism.  The back of everything.  The watch felt it.  Like a sneeze coming.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Shame all put on before third person.

She can't move, there in the deepest part of the jungle she's trapped in a spider's web, or no, the spiderweb is growing out of her own body, the threads are coming out of her waist and her hips, they're part of her body, so many threads that look hairy like ropes and disgust me, even though if I were to touch them they might feel as smooth as who knows what, but it makes me queasy to touch them8:52 pm

You don’t scare Arachne.  Did you really think you scared Arachne?  Arachne is just startled, didn’t see you coming.  Why the face?  Under jaw stuck out, head back.  You look like you got a whiff of potted herring gone stale.  Never mind.  Arachne’s seen it before.  You are jealous of Arachne; it’s only natural.  Arachne’s talents intimidate even the goddesses, why not you.  You know Arachne will hold up a mirror and show you your crimes, as if you even need Arachne to do that.  Just look at you, guilt hanging all over you like nets or a fine veil.  Fine like what do you call it gossamer.  And what’s that Arachne smells?  In the air just now (why smell it only now? mysterious) ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across.  Smell that?  Took its time in coming, slow but sure.    Shame.  Arachne thought so.  Must be the heat bringing it out of you.  Must cling to everything.  Arachne supposes people like the smell of shame or they wouldn’t exude so much of it.  Like flies around treacle.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

A star I see. Venus?

Say them all but tell them apart, cadenzando coloratura! R is Rubretta and A is Arancia, Y is for Yilla and N for greeneriN. B is Boyblue with odalisque O while W waters the fleurettes of novembrance. Though they're all but merely a schoolgirl yet these way went they. I' th' view o' th'avignue dancing goes entrancing roundly. 8:53 pm

[Scene:  Rehearsal for Circe.  Venus dressed as a heliotrope in furs is practicing the Dance of the Hours with the  Roygbiv Vance dancers: Rose, Sevilla, Citronelle, Esmeralde, Pervinca, Indra, and Viola.  The director is perched in the upstage grid and the stage manager and asm are in the booth. The nobleman, McIntosh, the newsboys, a hag carrying a bottle and Grace Darling are waiting stage right to rehearse their number: “O by the by that Lotion”]

God [On the god mic.  Always on the damn god mic.  Does he really need the entire house to hear him?  Really?]  I know the sun sets in the west Venus, I was the one who put it there in the first place!

Venus:  The hell you were!

God:  Nevermind the direction, this is theatre!  Our business is illusion.  We are representing truth, not telling it.  Who bloody cares if the sun is setting in the Southeast?

Venus:  I do! I need to absorb all the reality I can so my instrument can feel the very atmosphere of the scene.  How can I do that if you move the sun to the wrong place?

God: Look, you think it’s easy to move the sun around?  My joints are on the rack!

Jesus:  Dad?  Those distant hills seem coming nigh.

God:  I know, they needed to be closer for this scene.  Ignore them, the’ll stop soon.

Venus:  Listen God, I need the light to set in the west: it is a kind of reassuring.  I can’t.  I can’t work like this.

[A feather falls slowly from the grid, lands on Venus’ head.  She bursts into tears.]

Venus:  [Addressing the bird in the grid]  Thanks.  You’ve always brought me such peace.  You really are a promise of hope to me.  The girls too.  Sorry I got your names mixed up Indra, Viola.

Viola:  Don’t worry about it love.  Shall we go again?

McIntosh:  Do already!  The corns on my kismet are killing me!

Venus:  Who is that guy?

God: Jesus?

Jesus: Nobody knows, he just showed up.  Wait.  Where did he go?  Doesn’t he know it’s damn frustrating when people appear and disappear just like that!

God:  Never mind him, he was probably just a mirage.  Now Venus, the director wants you to practice in front of a mirror, hold his feather while you do it if it helps you.

Venus:  There’s no way I can do that.  I don’t want to see myself, that would shatter the reality I’m creating.

God: It’s hard I know, but still you learn something.  We all could stand to see ourselves as other see us. That’s the way to find out.  See yourself, scowl or smile, then ask yourself, who am I now?  Will you try it?

Venus:  Can I do it naked?

God: So long as women don’t mock what matter?

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

He gets the plums, and I the plumstones.

It may be that universal history is the history of the different intonations given a handful of metaphors.

8:54 pm

But I suppose a plumstone is a seed, so it can return a plum.  History repeats itself.  The year returns.  Plumstone becomes tree becomes plum.  Don’t swallow the stone, it will tear your guts out.  But the new plum, is it the same plum?  Plum metempsychosis perhaps.  O sweet little, you don’t know how nice you tasted.  Yum yum.  See you next time around.  The new I want but: nothing new under the sun.  Self similar but not the same.  Only once it comes.  Returning: not the same.  Plum, plumstone, tree, plum.  Depends on where will it land.  Sand, nothing grows.  Fall at 32 feet per second per second, then rise little tree.  Resurrection.  Are you not happy in your ground plumstone?  Ba.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Think you’re escaping and run into yourself.

  The director of one of the state prisons told his inmates that there were certain tombs in an ancient river bed and promised freedom to whoever might make an important discovery. During the months preceding the excavation the inmates were shown photographs of what they were to find. This first effort proved that expectation and anxiety can be inhibitory; a week's work with pick and shovel did not manage to unearth anything in the way of a hrön except a rusty wheel of a period posterior to the experiment. 8:55 pm

Getting dark now.  From within: windows turning into mirrors; from without: mirrors turning into windows.  Can be shocking to be within and turn the light on, suddenly see yourself as others see you.  From without, we get the gradual, surroundings disappearing, and what you’re doing in there, well, darling little wretch, I see your I see all.  Baby your longest way round is the shortest way home. Think you’re escaping?  You’ve run into yourself.  Naughty darling.  Now let’s lie on our back and watch until three stars apparate, maybe we’ll see something new.  It’s the new I want.  Nothing’s new under the sun; let’s see what charades the moon will play.  Or a comet, Rip Van-Winkling toward us: coming back after twenty years asleep.  We’ll kiss our shoulder and take a return voyage around our own little world.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Could hear them all at it

Irise, Osirises! Be thy mouth given unto thee! For why do you lack a link of luck to poise a pont of perfect peace? On the vignetto is a ragingoos. The overseer of the house of the oversire of the seas, Nu-Men, triumphant, sayeth: Fly as the hawk, cry as the corncake, Ani Latch of the postern is thy name; shout! 8:56 pm


Wait, what?


Shush.  Hear that?  Oh sorry, did I startle you?  Didn’t mean to make you jump; you must be more frightened by noise than light.  Or is it you thought you were alone on this beach?  Oh my darling, no no.  I’m right here.  Here in the tree.  Haven’t you ever listened to a tree?  I’m waiting for them to turn me into a pillar so Isis can find me.  You know her?  She knows you.  We’ve been listening to you, haven’t you heard us?  Listen around you.  All the world is listening.  Shh.  Better sit still. Use your eyes if you must but it’s only getting darker so you might as well listen up.  There.  You hear me?  That’s my Ba flying about. Listen.


My Ba.  My face, my bat body.  Like a little man in a cloak I am with tiny hands.  Teeth instead of a beak.  Bells have scared my Ba out of me, well that and my death played a part.  Don’t look so startled, my Ba will come back once Isis tears me out of this tree.  I’ll live again, metempsychosis you understand, repetition.  You hear that repetition?  Patterns it is,  numbers too if you care to hear them.  Self similarity of sound, clustering like bats in a belfry.  You hear that?  Repetitions are forming relationships.  There.  Proportion.  Now we have something.  Consonance and dissonance and assonance and resonance.  All in fluxing proportions.  Bells, and Ba, and waves, and what is that?  Oh that’s you!  Breathing, yes I miss that already.  And that other sound?  What is that? Can’t hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flittering bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone a home? Can’t hear with bawk of bats.

2 Responses to Could hear them all at it

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Slumberous but awake

Father, it would be far less painful for us if you ate of us; for you clothed us in this sad flesh -- it is for you to strip it off. 8:58 pm

Memory.  Remember.  I am almosting it.  I dreamed I was wearing red slippers and scarlet pajamas slashed with gold.  I remember rising from a red carpet and walking amongst my sisters in the street of harlots.  I remember the sea wind, and sickness around me but I was not afraid of death, only of becoming lost.  In my dream, i remember now, my menarche shocking my mother into her old age.  She sees me with pity and jealousy.  I am what she was, another herself.  She’ll murder me, the fear of God in her face.  Laughing, she will, she’ll gobble all her family.  I remember.  I was.  I gave a melon to a king disguised as a carpet merchant.  And then a shift.  It was as if in that instant, that moment when melon became gift or closer in, the moment when melon was simultaneously mine to give and his received, both and.  That moment something confused.  That instant of transformation I became not the dreamer but the dreamed.  I saw myself stuck to a rock on a beach like a diseased mussel.  Dull, waking from sleep, but waking to a different place and in that different place I remembered my life.  I was almosting it.  I felt myself in a bath languid, and I spoke to a woman and I stood by a grave.  I saw keys, crossed and held up my fingers, two keys crossed.  And then and then goddesses, three moving slightly, breathing.  Do they have?  And I heard music, a song.   I listened so beautiful see me.  You see me.  And and and and what and what I spoke against God and flew.  I flew.  I could feel myself flying, a bird flying with three fangs in my mouth and I understand them.  Forgive them.  Yes.  Fate that is and I fell.  I fell.  In a house of death I died and I don’t know what else.  Because you don’t know.  You never can know.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Wander years of dreams return

Down through the generations men built the night. In the beginning it was blindness and sleep and thorns that tear the naked foot and fear of wolves. We shall never know who forged the word for the interval of shadow which divides the two twilights; we shall never know in what century it stood as a cipher for the space between the stars. Other men engendered the myth. They made it mother of the tranquil Fates who weave destiny, and sacrificed black sheep to it and the cock which presages its end. The Chaldeans gave it twelve houses; infinite worlds, the Gateway. Latin hexameters gave it form and the terror of Pascal. Luis de León saw it in the fatherland of his shuddering soul. Now we feel it to be inexhaustible like an ancient wine and no one can contemplate it without vertigo and time has charged it with eternity. And to think it would not exist but for those tenuous instruments, the eyes.8:59 pm

I am a dream and I am your dreamer and also, look close, I am a page torn from an old copybook you cannot read so leave it, leave me. Trust me I am a bread cast on the waters. What’s this in your hand? I am a stick see? Too dark. Throw me, goodbye dear, thanks. I’ll stick here. I am a stick with lines and scars and letters inked into my flesh.  Carved upon the winedark sea. Wait.  No.  That’s my kidney.  I am a kidney, burn me instead.  I am a holocaust provided by an angel in stead.  I am a recording angel.  Read me if you can see but only the bats can see in the dark. Sleep, but first bend to see my face there. I am a dark mirror breathe on me. I stir. I am a reflection, nothing grows on me. I am a reflection of you done half by design. We’ll never meet again, O sweety. I fly here. There. Here. No harm in me, I am a transparency, but you can’t see me now.  I am a dark mirror. Don’t look too close naughty Grace darling, lean back swoony lovey and sleep. That’s better. Shhh. There you go. Shhh. There you go. I am a sleep.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The clock on the mantlepiece in the priest’s house cooed.

Down through the generations men built the night. In the beginning it was blindness and sleep and thorns that tear the naked foot and fear of wolves. We shall never know who forged the word for the interval of shadow which divides the two twilights; we shall never know in what century it stood as a cipher for the space between the stars. Other men engendered the myth. They made it mother of the tranquil Fates who weave destiny, and sacrificed black sheep to it and the cock which presages its end. The Chaldeans gave it twelve houses; infinite worlds, the Gateway. Latin hexameters gave it form and the terror of Pascal. Luis de León saw it in the fatherland of his shuddering soul. Now we feel it to be inexhaustible like an ancient wine and no one can contemplate it without vertigo and time has charged it with eternity. And to think it would not exist but for those tenuous instruments, the eyes.9:00 pm

Unportal my loves, let’s tell them the sin of my when.

cuckoo cuckoo cuckoo
cuckoo cuckoo cuckoo
cuckoo cuckoo cuckoo

There now. I’m very proud of you my sweets.  Please, no inner remorse of conscience. Not that again. Is it such a sin to yelp a perfect number? Sing the numbers of me, birdies, spring from my own mouth and boast the pride of my heart. Sin my foulness to God and the world and sing of nothing but me. Give my offering sweet canary birds, this ennead of night. Stand on the fourth twig of pride’s branch and let’s eat the fifth leaf. Yum Yum, tell my hour so I might open my mouth and swallow this now, the sin of when.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.