it was a game he liked to play

he thought he only liked playing it when he was able to sit down with a book and opening it randomly write down whatever words or sentence his eyes fell on

Burroughs taught him the game

                                  cut–ups  

and Burroughs was taught the technique by Brion Gysin who he befriended in Tangier Gysin wasnt from Tangierhe wasnt Tangierian though mebbe Tangerine  some people remind us of fruit Ohgo on Pearshaped he had buddies who cravedadorned pearshaped women  To each his own

he digressed

although he paid attention to his digressions

they were marker posts Frosts The Roads Not Taken I took the one less traveled  it didnt matter if he got "lost" people he eventually met knew where they were so he wasnt ever really lost

when digressing he wasnt discreet

not secretiveno

                and there was nothing either he gained being discrete  he was purposefully loud bumbledwas willful to draw attention to himself so he could learn where he had come down
like a childs toy colouredballoon   

being discrete wouldnt teach him a thing  and as curious as he was he was anxious no anxiety to learn where he waswhere he found himself even if he hadnt meant to be there

the game taught him that

then it was obvious hed waonder if he could change up the game  see if he could improvise stoke its randomness

whenever he walked anywhere he carried a cloth bag slung over his shoulder on its two cloth handles inside it was paper pens and usually three or four books three or four books if he wasnt out for groceries he jumped between them as someone else might otherwise sit on a couch and channelsurf episode over   next

his next was walking and making unrecorded cut-ups 

the first several were unremarkable unmemorable 

then he read Your dreams will not save you from the sun. followed by The Monument, the black monolith, I am standing at Trinity Site.

some sun

           vaporises a human being but not before etching their shadow on stone

and lifting his eyesnever his head  crossing a street he saw on the sidewalk ahead of him a young man walking towards him the young man was hedging to the curb people would have to walk inside him Sorry buddy he thought then making the sidewalkcoming off the crosswalk he took the curb and acted asif he was reading again appearing oblivious  however he was shaken that his dreams wouldnt cast shade and save him from Trinitys annihilation

the young man recognised the older man had taken the curbrecognised that he left him too much room that the old man had taken the space between him and the curb he relented  although he didnt drift to the middle of the sidewalk and rather would conspicuously pass just off the older mans shoulder

he saw that the young man was perchedthere was no other word for it he was perched forward his upper body seeming dislocated from his hips and legs leaning seeming ready to break into a run a run that would appear erraticperhaps spastic asif he was a built cardboard puzzle whose pieces were illfitting hungloose and his symmetry warped and turned 

the young man was going to avoid his eyes as sometimes particular women did nervously 

it wasnt that they were avoiding his glancehis nod they cast their eyes down they avoided everyones eyes  something had happened they were unsettled uncomfortable afraid  ashamed  they were roads he wouldnt take not because he didnt want to but because those women wouldnt want him to perturbed  he honored their discomfort

the young mans right shoulder hung forwardnearly under his jaw

his big shapeshifting darkgreen cotton polo had some emblem on its left breast he couldnt make it out  everything wanted to advertise itself

the young man wore long black baggy athletic shorts they ran beneath his knees 

given his perch  his shoulderhis right leg lead his egress seemed to be a sideways stride  like a suspicious crab  encouraged not to go forward but escape preferring right but escapeno matter  or even to momentarily rear and cower from a defensive position on his back that easily would be ruined rather than escaping 

he could snap him up off his back by his weak arm  hidden in the shapeless sleeve  and throw him over onto his face

No he thought
               the young man didnt acknowledge his nod they passed inches apart anif someone from inside a car on the street looked they might have thought the two were going to run haplessly into each other 

the young man his head down

the man reading a book                     

texted : 1414,  Twosday,  2  10. 18

1230,  Thursday,  4  10. 18

Fela Kuti  Yellow Fever  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIRXNA3Eofs