he scribbledhe was probably drunk for good reason  he scribbled on the back of a page from among a sheaf of papers he pulled out of the trash at work 

less than half the page was used  

a printout of corporates markup on The Botanist Islay Gin 

a fuckin waste typical casual corporate wastebecause it canbecause it can write-it-off corporate write-off could feed the hungry house the homeless educate the uneducated but It’s Ours To Throw Away  Fuck corporate he used the pages to scribble on used its empty parts
                                  all the inside jobs he held he always took the thrown away half-used pages because he imagined them as lives

a trees life

a human life

Life Expectancy in America was nearly eighty years no matter the sex 

OH so  he saw the paper under his pen akin to a life say a GIs life a military life which had no trouble trashing a twenty year old GI or a frightened GI snatching anothers life because they could like a frightened cop in any American city snatching typically a black life white lives dont usually worry about frightened cops because white people dont frighten cops which he thought was odd because white men were typically the mass murderersthe terrorists that cops and the Authority refused to call terrorists
                                            all of it was incorporated in a page he pulled from the trash

he thought too much

he had scribbled in red ink I give a fuck whats improbable

then in capital letters beneath the sentence he wrote
                                 FUCK

                                      FUCK each emphatically underlined  so the scribbled lines almost formed a bar  an angled iron wedge

then off to the side beneath the fucks he wrote  Baby can you read this?

beneath that  Can you read my mynd?

then under his questions he wrote  Then you know I LOVE YOU  madly he scribbled lines under I LOVE YOU

the I LOVE YOU sprawled in the lower right corner of the page

he had thrown an arched line and arrowhead from I LOVE YOU back across the empty space of the page on the left and off the descending hookthe arrowhead he wrote again
I LOVE YOU

if the dead could read
                       or if the dead would now waste their time continuing in Lifes dimension dimension?

in Lifes dementia

1904,  Saturday,  8  9. 18

1419,  Sunday,  23  9. 18

Francis Kuipers  Blindfold Blues  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFx9uAt5va4

Ohboy wannabe Supreme Kavanaugh will say I was just a boy What I did has no reflection on the man I am now

CODE: boys will be boys

                          or could be readCODE: entitled white boys can do no wrong

2345,  Monday,  24  9. 18

https://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/watch/avenatti-kavanaugh-accuser-client-may-pursue-criminal-case-1328359491812?v=railb&

it had been fortyone years

                          the last seventeen years hes been alone on their anniversary

he didnt celebrate it  

a better word  he commemorated it 

celebrating would be off target

                                 many people who attended their wedding no longer thought to remember or acknowledge it 

many were dead 

Time has a way of parsing our lives

he rememberedhis sister rememberedalways sent a lovely card  and that was plenty 

now shes gone

he wasfor whatever reason the one who had a deep memory and store and recalled family and friends birthdates wedding anniversaries  although a fiftyfifty proposition half after theyd passedFuck 

he did not send them belated letters

he disliked the word it was a euphemism  softersounding than saying Yea I FORGOT 

he preferred not to receive belated wish let it go  

maybe this years guilt would possess them to remember next year

and when he did timely remember a birthday or anniversary they said How is it you always remember our birthday our anniversaries? How do you do it?

I dont always anything  keep that in mind  Ive come to accept as a natural course that were all juggling balls trying to keep them up in the air  I have fewer balls to juggle Lets leave it at that

So dont beat yourself up recriminations are worthlesstryin to shoulder aside box out jab with an elbow regret or remorse Let it go Theres better and more important things in our lives

but theyd insist he trying to be magnanimous

                                               so much for letting it go

No  Not magnanimous  Its on you Itll have to be your hangup Im not apologising for happening to remember

he was the thoughtful elephant in the room

Please

        Just say thank you

he took a long walkhe could feel convinced himself he did her hand in his he remembered who they were that only he and she would know  

when he got home he poured two neat whiskies

he toasted her Happy Fortyfirst babe I love you 

1045 & 1900,  Monday,  24  9. 18   

Malefeasance

the headline to the NPR article is  Trump Calls Kavanaugh ‘Outstanding,’ Dismissing Latest Sexual Misconduct Allegation 

which stands on the shoulders of The New York Times headline  Trump Defends Roy Moore, Citing Candidate’s Denial of Sexual Misconduct

which monkey piles atop The Atlantics  The 19 Women Who Accused President Trump Of Sexual Misconduct

its all so very seamy and consistent

 

1033,  Monday,  24  9. 18

847 days remaining or less

https://www.npr.org/2018/09/24/651085275/trump-calls-kavanaugh-outstanding-dismissing-latest-sexual-misconduct-allegation

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/21/us/politics/roy-moore-trump-alabama.html

https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/12/what-about-the-19-women-who-accused-trump/547724/

      vulns

             in Walkaway every time he read the word it bothered him

used in context he was able to detecteke out a kind of continuitya frame-of-reference  however frame-of-references only take one so far  he had to know if the term vuln existed or if it was a fabrication of the writers fertile mind

finally weekes after he finished the book he conceded  he looked it up

vuln: a vunerability, especially one associated with computer security

                                                                         ah shorthand

(fucking computer geeks and their specialised vocabulary acronyms hiding in plain sightWhere’s Waldo? realities and common sense)

             Waldos a freak there was nothing attractive or inspiring about him a fucking bookmark frankly if Waldo had the misfortune of stepping out into the road ahead of him he wouldnt swerve to avoid him any more than the brilliantblue-infused buck he killed three years ago Waldo would be a fuckin idiot to play with fire

hed get burnt

probably his only disgust with the matter would be him having to dig Waldo clots out of his tire treads or strip his comicbook flesh out of his grillwork off his headlights      

humans had vulns

                    probably more ruinous to a human system than a coded programme 

but who was he to make such a call

                                      You must know that a persons ability to discern the truth is directly proportional to his knowledge (pg 68 The Third-Body Problem)

who was he to say when so often he heard so many people cop to convenient lies rather than ruminate or explain inconvenient truths

See that fucking hourglass over there? That’s my time you’re wasting, an I aint gonna get squat of it back because I explained myself to you.

because you arent worth the time

no ones worth the time

time briefly  is worth lying for

a whole new set of vulns

vulns placed inside a Venn diagram 

Worthwhile

Unworthwhile

what the fuck would that diagram look like

where would you start illustrating illuminating and despite its bright light who would really look and see

its hard to be patient for night vision to return after youve been lightblinded particularly if you think youre being pursued 

          are paranoid

It’s not a question of being paranoid, it’s a question of being paranoid enough.

he exercised practised carried a blade so he didnt waste his time with paranoia

he was a cut-an-dried kinda soul

late August, 2018

1601,  Saturday,  22  9. 18
 

Tool You Lied https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmkRHo4Vca4

another Old White Man

Senator Grassley ought to choke on a cob of corn No Heimlick manoeuvre for you

                                                                                  another Old White Man Who Thinks He Knows Best spreading his black authoritarian batwings and no longer bothering to hide his vampire fangs

Look into my eyes 

                    Daddy Knows Best ofcoarse

his black and whiteohsofucking black an white determination of white men about and over women about sexual assault it wasnt that bad if it was that bad she would filed police reports years ago

                                                                                       sez Male Republicans 

Grassley out of Iowa eightyfive years oldeightyfive years of his head up his crusty ass

0218,  Saturday,  23  9. 18

848 days remaining or less

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLwtcXzSyM0

it was crazycrazy at the foot of his bed appeared an amphitheatre he had a box seatthe stage and actors literally at his feet

they seemed not to know he was there utterly unselfconscious and playing at their stage marks as they rehearsed

their voices ran over each othera cacophony they moved like swift atoms on stage  bouncing off each other turned onto a new path new speeches the deliberate orchestration was breathtaking
                                                                          when one atom missed another or was late     or too fast the director stopped them Again!

Again!

       and Again! stabbing like a sharp knife into the hard body of their scripted conversations and argumentstheir purposed laughter laughter like madmen and madwomen

AGAIN!

just off left of center was a pond surrounded by large flatstones reeds small shrubs

the action and catcalls ran round and round the pond actors stumbled and fell into itwere helped up out of it or comically pulled up by their hipstheir arms flailingwater gargledtheir lives saved actors embracing You saved me! then Why did you save me?!
                        for at the far left end of the pond was a voluptuous maiden in a sheer wet white robe her breasts and nipples evident though playing peek-a-boo when she moved her shoulder or gestured with her hands and arms

she was beautiful her long blonde hair elaborately plaited was held back off her face by combs

she was the eye of the storm

all the actions and speeches ran around her

she fomented

she shrieked

              and when she was pleased with a particular admonishment she crossed her arms reclined and arched her right eyebrow which was to the audience
AGAIN!

the playwhich he had yet to follow  the actions and words too abrupt too briefly exposed was a maelstrom

he was drawn to its kinetics curious what eventually was going to grow from the havoc

STOP!

      STOP!   STOP!  Stop the harried director recognised his actors were as harried as he Okay. Take ten, twenty. Quietly. Seated. Close your eyes. Run your lines and see how you movedance across the stage.

all he had seen was frenetic motionno he lied he also saw that while no one else seemed aware he laid in his bed at their feet watching the demigoddess in the pond on occasion seemed to be aware of him when AGAIN! stopped the rehearsal she looked askance at him though more accurately he thought that she saw him but didnt believe her eyes  asif he were a mirage a trick played on her by her eyes

then with everyone settling downcatching their breaths she stood  she took an unseen towel from behind the flat rock she sat against and brusquely dabbed her robe at her breasts and loins absorbing water turning it opaque

then she walked directly towards him

her eyes seeing on his eyes 

You can see me he asked when she kneeled on the foot of his bed outside the plays plane or dimension  in his

I thought I saw someone. I couldn’t make them out. Then when we stopped I saw you.

No one else sees me

No. They don’t, I don't know why. 

I dont know You must admit however that it is queer you could walked off the stage onto my bed

And no one noticed I did.

No How could no one not notice you walking to the front of the stage he thought he surreptitiouslyscrupulously eyed the gap opened in her robe at her breasts

she smiled a smile he recognised I need to get out of my head.

The play and its action is very intense

It is difficult. And intense. Will you help me get out of my head?get out of my robe?

no dialogue has ever been written for such a request anif it were the playwright ought to be hung and gutted in a market square

he sat up off his arms that he propped himself up on near bloodless now and the blood flowingblood pounding in his ears he slowly pulled her robe open exposing her fruit that at a distance had been hinted at but unrevealed

her fruit exceeded the hint usually does

her lips curled into a wolfish smileshe was a demigoddess everything was at her fingertips nothing denied her she pushed him back onto his bed and crawled up so her full breasts were opposite his cock

she placed her hands on top her breasts and ground them onto his cockrocking side to sideup an down their eyes on each others eyes 

her tongue snapped like a wet towelshe pulled the thin blanket and sheet down his nakedness against her nakedness still she ground himground himhis breath catching in his throat Im out of my head she purred then she quit grinding her breasts agaisthis cock took him in hand licked his shaft lolled her tongue around its head kissed him long then slowly slowly  slowly took him in her mouth down her throat her breasts swinging with her gulps  swinging he arrested them handfuls of flesh a happy demigoddess getting out of her head
                                                                                             and into his                                                                                  

he nearly blacked out when he came

16 -17  9. 18 dream

1259,  Friday,  21  9. 18

Mazzy Star  Fade Into You  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-uJ61jgFCMM

nymphs will always turn a guys head

                                        his vision had gone hazy  in the steam room inside his eyeballsat their softpeeling edgesat their keen seeingpeering voyeurism hes given over to stealthy eroticism 

he knew something of nymphos

                                 he was a bit of a satyrhe remembered reading about Dionysus – that was a religionhuh -- the celebrants the gatherings the wine the orgies oh Dionysus  Tell metell me that doesnt sound titillatingsound outrageous  an sumptuous   

he was young he was immature the trouble then with him was that he idealised he preconceived Dionysus the women he imagined were on par with the young playmates he saw in the pages of 60s Playboys  the kindly retouchedthough unaltered unplasticised women who handed him his hard ons it was this kind of thinking that was illadvised likely presaging his denial of those who attended nudist colonies or frolicked at nude beaches 

                                                                                         readying to cast his net into the fruitful sea  he lets its physics go  lets its whirling over his head fail slackening  the net collapses  flaccid at his hip

get him a harpoon   

the fruitful sea snickers Whaddaya picky?

he was

he wasnt a drunken hypersexual goatman willing to fuck anyone

theres a knock at his door

an echoa clatter of hooves

theyd come to take his satyr card 

The Few, The Proud, The Goats

he lacked their mettle

they stood on the stoop outside his front door

he picked up his wallet out of a stoneware bowl on a shelf on his vintage entrance coatrack and bench

the card wasnt in his wallet

You’re not carrying your card?

Apparently not

You pledged to carry your card at all times.

No  Wrong  I sent fifty Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum Bazooka Joe and his GANG comic strips to get my satyr card 

I didnt pledge anything

their hooves clattered theyre nervous  theyre irritated   My God you’re an embarrassment. 

Heythere careful  Dont mar the concrete  I dont wanna hafta explain how the marks got there  

Cant you just expunge my name from your roleIll pen a quick affidavit you can witness that I acquit and forego all honors and privileges satyrs are bestowed in lieu of the cards absence

the satyr at the head of the small herd stroked his beard thoughtfully

he was quite taken by the beast he had a hard time unifying his serious countenance now with what he must look while he was rutting blind drunk and bawling

the leader eventually nodded acquiesced 

he quickly assembled and wrote the affidavit

he signed it 

they witnessed it

the leader rolled the paper and wedged it in the curl of his horn they were worthy of SCI and B&C record contention You may, however, regret your decision when you’re older; when either you can’t get your cock upnot a problem for satyrs or when women stop paying attention to you, let alone deny you sex.

Well  I could always blow my brains out

the leader nodded solemnly  

he tried to suppress his laughthen laughed wholeheartedly  Asshole! Theres more to life than fucking

solemnly  slowly   the leader shook his head no  he said You’re a neophyte. Ignorant.  then he blew a rocket of snot out of his muzzle onto the foyers parquetry  turned  and walked off

the queer clutch followed him

he supposed he deserved that visit

the nymphs which set off the circumstances of their visitation he dreamed the night before 

although those nymphs werent nymphos 

maybe he resented his unconscioushis sleeps deliberation

on his fingers and toes he worked his way around a steep stoneface above swift moving glasslike deep water his heels high above silhouettes of big black fish and gigantic sturgeons

he heard something coming down to the water through the forest whose limbs beyond the stone had beckoned him to pursue his course on the rock

nymphs emerged from the trees and bramble in hooded green cloaks over coloured robes 

in the ferns splayed at the waters edge they disrobed 

their naked skin was lizardlike iridescent  sleek  tinyscaled and when they stepped into the water he thought theyd plunge  they did not  they werent swallowed by the rivers depth a depth he was quite certain of from where he clung to the rock five metres above

it was asif the nymphs walked on a thermal under the waters face 

halfway across they were in a depth equivalent to a filled clawfoot bathtub 

they played midstream yelling like small happy children and splashed each other their skin in the sunlight shed brilliant prismatic beads their breasts and rumps jiggled

he clung like a bug to the wall

he was as inobvious to them as that a bug  

a watchful bug

       

dreamt early 19th morning,  9. 18

1433,  Thursday,  20  9. 18

Puscifer  Sour Grapes  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCs4CL3ktUw

he was readinghe was always readingwalking and reading reading this reading that a fucking voracious readeralways was  he joked seriously he owned enough books that theyd be plenty to make a funeral pyre and reduce his bodyeven his femursthe largest bones in a human body to grit bypassing any need of running his remains through a cremulators steel ballbearing or rotorblades think blender

                                               he was reader

an adjutantobviously to his addictionreading had been the library

the library today is a different place than when he was a kid  the card index is long gone  shit was online  when he applied online for particular books or material and they were unavailable he made a point to walk over to the towns library and question the librarian why what he was looking for wasnt available  just to make sure that the librarythe crucible of knowledge hadnt devised a kind of censorship  often books he read were questionable  or inflammatory

or erudite  Johnsoneselook it up 

while reading When They Call You a Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir he found in its pages the mention of Spike Lees 2000 film Bamboozled which he hadnt seenhe was too damn busy then for entertainment  he wondered if he could get a copy through the library

going online he entered Search: Phrase: Bamboozled

the program asked: Did you mean Bombycillidae?

yahwhaddafuck 

HOW did Search know that he meant bombycillidae whats that  sounds like a disease HOW did Search know that he really wasnt interested in a satirical movie of a greasepaint blackfaced black mens minstrel show

Comon Search throw up your nonhands and admit NOdont offer me an option  worse an absurd option  B – o – m is not B – a – m

Bombycillidae  Genus  a bird a waxwing  a passerine bird  which means its feet are adapted for perching

just like his feet are made for walking

                                         to be fair if Search hadnt fucked up refused to motor through its programmingadamantly refusing not to allow him an option  it is likely he probably wouldnt ever have learned what Bombycillidae is or the name waxwing pretty slick or the adjective passerine

should learn something new every day until Life kills you

          

1554,  Monday,  17  9. 18

1157,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  19  9. 18

Salt-N-Pepa  Push It  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCadcBR95oU                                 Nancy Sinatra  These Boots Are Made For Walkin’  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rypT2qMO1RY