What Pleasure to Measure whether “When” Desire then~?

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“And I was Powerless to Say: ‘in the Head //—(was unsaid)—in the Head’…”

 

-Boris Izsus 2000

What is to be Abandoned, itself grows a City, Egregiously Deceived

THUMBLE

FROUZY

A Free Mass of Moving Fuckeries (The Origin of a Fart)

OUBASTIARY

ASPEARANCE

Here Be Dragons, a novel - (excerpt #6)

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While at the airport, I checked my bags, keeping a sticker on my ticket that I was supposed to compare to my luggage proper.

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Once in my seat, on the plane, I stuck the ticket in the pocket in front of me and never thought of it again, especially while watching the free nonsense romantic comedy that played in front of me, in front of us all, whether we liked it or not.

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I fell asleep, realizing I had not had the proper night’s sleep that I had dreamt I had. It was not a long nap, but long enough to have a dream that woke me up in a frigid fright.

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In my dream I had just gone to the doctor for my annual check-up, had some blood drawn, and was told by my physician that I had contracted a strain of a particular virus that had recently been discovered. I could tell that he was unerringly nervous during his attempted description of the disease, one that had no known cure, only a host of experimental drug treatments that were normally used for other ailments, but have, in some studies, shown to be effective, at least in part, for the most major of symptoms.

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He told me, his hands shaking in writing the prescriptions, causing his handwriting to be even more illegible than normal, that I should not wait to fill them, that I should begin taking the full regimen, not once missing a dose; he told me that I would experience a host of unpleasant side-effects, which would include nausea, insomnia, rectal bleeding, potential loss of feeling in my extremities, the possibility of blindness, hair loss, and, in the extreme, death.

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He told me the possibility of these side-effects would still be better than what would happen if the virus took a full hold on my body, which, in his words, would equate to medieval torture on Inquisition-scaled heights.  

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Upon returning from the pharmacy, I discovered I was now in possession of some 600 pills of varying sizes. I had capsules, tabs, suppositories; horse-pills that I knew would be difficult for my already tightening throat muscles. And this was simply a one-month supply.

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Sitting down at my kitchen table with a tall glass of water and the first of the daily 20 pill new routine, I wondered if it would, indeed, be worth it to live like this now, if living was what I was actually being presented with.

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On the plane, my neighbor had nudged me for me to move so he could go to the bathroom, and I awoke with a shudder that made me want to punch him for touching me. I was in a cold sweat, and nearly had to dampen my sleeve wholesale to not look a nervous fright to my co-travelers and stewardesses.

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When my neighbor returned, he apologized for giving me a startle:

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“You aren’t a fan of flying, are you?”

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I gave him a weak smile, putting on a pair of headphones that were not attached to anything of use, but he got the hint and left me alone for the remainder of the flight. 

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FAVORITES

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Tell the audience what your favorite purse is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite place is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite thing to hate is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite book is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite TV show is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite food is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite drink is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite state is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite song is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite movie is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite philosopher is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite hamster is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite president is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite candy bar is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite Post-Structuralist theory is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite Chipmunk is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite sleeping position is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite magazine is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite store is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite Chekov short story is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite celebrity couple is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite roller-coaster ride is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite Texas is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite holiday is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite cigarette is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite fruit is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite plastic utensil is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite fucking cookie is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite genital is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite child is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite question is.

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Tell the audience what your favorite favorite is.

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Tell the audience

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Tell the audience

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Tell the audience what your favorite audience is.

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BELLIBONE

Ah Shit, there is a Chance at Paradise

IVULNERATE

A Shot to the Face

LAPLAMPASS

An Aver Tightening Space

In the Afternoon (On-going Summary of This Week’s Nap Dreams: Thursday - Saturday)

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Ministrealo chrissymouse abort tears all splanded across the four, closet deminds a mamaquuaclud in serious stone choking jazzard disturn’d the chillums in hoardies under the tra-la-la. Foregoes the possiful endings: the mamackingbird dies berceuse she sings for it.

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Kiuriamalt bottom fjorder, and there goes the gaggyfoot. Two steps under wraps, urstockings as a pleasant wanderfling. Springtame pluissiant in foliage upfront – the wunderkind questioning a rose as one. Riverliners allong drat flat frequency colluped to the mouth, the end(ur)ing.

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Ctholdane purpoplex in a terront twixt (w)horror lens aling towards a puttputt ininonin. Tussled by fiber or unigagi happenstankce the lives of lipreaders who ate the would be common swarthy. Wind by him the wellnosed heartshaker, a tundra of the floored bout of the belting bite.

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Here Be Dragons, a novel (excerpt #5)

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When I woke up in the morning, to the tune of a terribly obnoxious alarm via my phone, I sat straight up and got out of the bed to pee, only turning off the alarm when I returned.

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I was quick to grab my things and run out the door. It only took me a few minutes at best to find a cab that would take me to the airport, while normally the site of me on the corner with packed luggage would cause plenty of cabs to pass me by.

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[End of Part One - Home]
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One can only Suppose

The Plan is to Develop some Tumors

In the Afternoon (On-Going Summary of This Week’s Nap Dreams: Wednesday)

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Mannahupert behind the resin of softshow intuit where a tankd told the talk on the footsie bill under ripptoppletankertemptomicon. A fraggy smile on a waft jeffherder – there is too tell to see. A crouper of croons as smilinking educornichone tabled by wurthy role of sondays soon.

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TOHELVEM

Smiling, Upon

Itself, a Thief

In the Afternoon (On-Going Summary of This Week’s Nap Dreams: Sunday - Tuesday)

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The rastor risen el olde mamafesta twad the plethyhedron in wickerstiltz solemn on a usapping pappery all in untwadled space – a chairum oldenstyme porpoised to the bray: shell’d she’ll still be there alarums foreskinn’d at the knee, pantyplastered with neospomade.

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Toothshakes and wanderjest, an askewing of the the quandary laid bare and askewed again; memori by two old ladysnipes on the trammel besotted by the quaguard with dead med dirtyfacade across the brow by boxed luxury and tombling squats.

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Trufluffle deathparch – in 0 by line by linney – a spanck by the whole maxmillianian autosystems dirty as rosh, a plankorea angle of sound lag goosehap’d a flingerling upstart by tortured penis butter: disdancful tward nine-sprinting watching or undergoos’d gallop gallant.

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Here Be Dragons, a novel (excerpt #4)

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The truth was that I had had a dream that night where I had been found lost in a supermarket, searching wildly for scallops.

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Each person I asked in the dream told me “they’re usually found out of the shell”.

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I ended up before I woke up crying in a pile of green seedless grapes, while numerous other patrons of the supermarket gathered to sample the grapes, never once buying a bunch.

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