1444,  Saturday,  2  4. 16

                                                        2  4. 16

                                                                divisible by twos 

                                                                       except Saturday

squat fat Saturday sat on its round so very round head
it had to pinch its porcine flanks for Saturday to realise something was laying in the sun in the grass where it sat 

Off my head fatso  2  4. 16 grimaced

Saturdays doltish reply  Huh

when a day replies Huh  fat and slovenly  check your cupboards and fridge

stand up and smell its face pull on its jowls stick your nose in its creases

Smell like anything you had put up or away for a latter dinner

Who invited you

(lethargically)  Huh

You      Who  invited  you

I  go  whar  I  wannt

The hell you do Im sunning its my backyard the last place Id imagine to sprawl close-eyed and have my head sat on

Didnt see ya
Didnt see . .
           then it recognised that Saturdays stub of a head mounted on its fat body could scarcely look left or right

or for that matter down

peripheral existed not in its world
periscopic sight
tunnel vision
it truly went whar it wannted and with the thick hide of a pachyderm or rhino it also went unscathed
plodding
day to day
sucking up sustenance as it went

Huh

Huh is the extent of your observation and vocabulary

Huh . .

     . . Never mind 
Can I help you get to whar youre going
Because you cant stay here

I  go  whar  I  wannt

You said

evidently it did

2  4. 16 stood and eyed the Extreme Cow of Saturday
quickly realising that prodding the beast might only make it dally

a Saturday had gone perverse

all it wanted was to enjoy its day in the warm sun before it had to go to work

the last thing it wanted was to be coerced  provoked

Well then my large incoherent friend(maybe it had a concept for friend) I gotta go  Youll have to excuse me

actually it heard the reply before Saturday said  Theres no excuse for you

No  I suppose not  At least not any more than theres a reason for you to materialize here and now in what had been a placid unremarkable afternoon

You have no matter made it remarkable

Huh

it thought  it spoke too fast regurgitated words too quickly for its dim wits to comprehend
I must take my leave

Take

Go

Ga     Ga  whar

Anywhere 
I must leave you to your own devises

Devises

Yes devises (a monolithic flat unreflective beast) To your own accord

Saturday turned  slowly   warily    side to side 
head tilted down slightly as far as it might
crushing the fresh spring grass under its flat archless feet

Ac cord

Saturday was looking  2  4. 16 imagined  for cords or bungees or what-have-yous

Yes

it rose quickly picked up its Mexican sunning blanket
rubbed the sides of its head feeling for cracks fractures on its skull and not finding any realised Saturday did not squat entirely  Mercifully

perhaps mercy was a latent concept Saturday might understand

it counted its lucky stars this Saturday wasnt its last

itd be sure to keep an eye peeled in the future its learning-curve piqued forevermore aware that its reasoning had been defied and unreasonable was afoot

1444,  Saturday,  2  4. 16

a buddy sent him a postcard

which is saying something even if he couldnt get the sonofabitch to ever write a letter despite leveraging that inane hope with letters of his own too numerous to count

his stringent adamancy to provoke him had inadvertently fashioned metastasised him into a type of sounding board

an impatient confidante

    

they talked on the telephone

he reluctantly                                                                                                                                     

his buddy wanted to skype

he would not negotiateChrist NO 

Youd have to write me more than a few letters buy me more than a few bottles of very good bourbon to get me in front of a skypecamera 

             his buddy sighed deeply(he could hear harsh angst whisper in his exhale) Manh

Writin letters takes too much time Time Id rather use otherwise(unspecified)

  

he used the tired worn excuses time immemorial plucked out from a well that if it wasnt should have gone bone-dry by now

 

I got nothing to say

My life aint interesting certainly nothing to write home about(neither of them lived where they had met as boys and grew up) and Ill be goddamn ifya think Im going to try and vie with the letters youve written me

Yago off manh yago on and on yarealise doncha that many of your letters run more than a dozen pages handwritten front and back

Filled to glut Endless questions 

  

Goddamn

 

Questions alone Yanever write rhetorically Tryin to simply reply to them alone to the degree of specificity you ask would demand as many pages if not more to eke out their replies

he sighed again

             Whodafucks got time for that

 

You could make time if you wanted

Yahwell  Evidently I dont wanna

No He didnt want to anymore than he wanted to skype

so as a loose middle-of-the-unmaintained-shitty-asphalt-road compromise he answered his letters with postcards

he seemed always to unearth old postcards

that said something even if he didnt write letters

   

postcards that once-upon-a-time would catch breaths make old biddies huff  Really 

 

he had a thing a devotion for insulting old biddies who likely unknown to him were making up for his mother who if she were alive would have been the Queen of Old Biddies and Prudes

over the telephone after receiving another postcard through the mail after already having written him a letter copied it highlighted particularly aspects of it so he wouldnt ruin its news when it arrived or cautioning him to not repeat himself he tried  again  to convince him to quit referring to them his very artful postcards as antiques  but rather vintage

I like the term antique better  Vintage lacks pizzazz

You lack pizzazz 

              but if you would  vintage  it also means the best of its kind

And certainly they arent run-of-the-mill postcards  Common

Theyre special

Unique

Not antiqueI describe them to everyone who sees them in my studio as remarkable vintage  Always vintage

Nah  Antique

You near your computer right now

I am

Its On

No

Turn it On

Turn it On

For me please  I wanna send you an email illustrating vintage as compared to antiqueHumour me

Gettin testy  Not like you

You often make me unlike me

I think were at the point where . . . how do they say . . Samuel Johnson nearly two-hundred-fifty years ago said it Bob Dylan said it better

                They say that patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings steal a little and they throw you in jail  Steal a lot and they make you a king

Whats that have to do with anything

Well first off it buys us time for your computer to come up so you can read your email

I got Facebook

Book of Faces No thanks You know I dont

You up

Almost Whats your second off off your first off

Like Im to forget  Second off the remark is about false patriotism  Clinging to an enhancement Attempting to beguile and or enhance oneself with the benefit associated to it Are you up

I am  And are you suggesting Im . .

                            . . Youre being contrary for the sake of being contrary I know you well enough to know the word antique burdens your tongue It does not roll off your tongue not ever not unless youre trying to gall me or chap my hide It gives you while I believe unlike you some type of passive-aggressive glimmer of resentment towards me for something that may be leftover since we were kids A slight that for some reason has remained like a sliver just under your skin An irritation Were old friends You can be honest 

                                          

No matter

Momentarily Im going to send you an email to illustrate why you may finally concur with me

Vintage more accurately states what I know to be your firm position rather than risk being misconstrued by your long-standing blatant announcements of antique postcards  You know how you refer to them out loud

I . .

   . . I know your I

Please just read what I write then tell me what you think

he typed in electronic light:  vintageerotica    antiqueerotica(which when written out rather than said appeared anti-queer-otica  the Spanish otica meaning aural  sounds like  anti-queer erotica  which meant what or rather how erotica could be anti-queer)

   

See what I mean? he continued

 

I might be the lone oddball it occurs to, but I’ve made a livelihood extrapolating small errors, usually overlooked, and correcting them before they could affect or manifest trouble.

Exercising them as captured examples I also defined them as beneficial, mutually realised by our clients and by our company, which generated, vouchsafed, ultimately assured our clientele that our vigilance, determination to act, was always with their best interest at heart and in mind.

If you were to think about it . . . it’s hard to malign someone who admits their wrong and also seeks to correct themselves.

You get it  he asked

Im reading

         Salient  I aint anti-queer  Im hardly anti-anythingStupid  Im anti-stupid

Whats erotica look like when its anti-queer

 

I dont know

But rare anyone calls someone queer anymore

Thats way outdated

If my mom were alive she would

She was a trussed-up old gal even when she was young Im surprised she had me

I wonder how that went

I do

No matter I suppose It did

It did

You dont think immac . .

                   . . Give me a fuckin break aint nothing about you immaculate

 

A boy can always wish

evening,  Thursday,  31  3. 16

0252,  Saturday,  2  4. 16

  

Muse Kiki de Montparnasse by Julian Mandel  circa 1920s