the only thing that threw him off this morning suggested that last nights rumbuzz still affected him was that he fumbled the little stinking rubber ball they had him manipulate while he was on apheresis(platelet donation: He was a Fucking Hero)  --  one time  --  he put it on the ground  --  though he made startled eye contact with one of managements staff and she quickly(attractively) scurried around her desk came out through her office doorway fell on it recovering it and returned it into his hand

they tried not to make too much of it

her valiant effort on his behalf provided him face  stoked his reserve of humility

he was on the machine for eightythree minutes

he was trying to trim it to sixty

an interior competition

his rumbuzz had him in a fascinating mindset  it evoked youthful Miami mornings coloured sunrises blushed sand beaches(not sorry to say sand bitches) rushing headlong into the Atlantic surf to help curb whatever high he was negotiating

he was baptised and anointed in its light in the new day in the promise of the coming evening

he lived for nights in those days for their coy shadowed lust blatant apostasy and sensual riot

out of his rumbuzz out his arm his blood flowed

                                      suddenly he found himself recalling The Abominable Dr Phibes

Phibes Rises Again Vincent Price the price Michael Jackson payed  though no Phibes Resurrectus Brides of Phibes

or his Seven Fates followed despite studios then buying lock stock and barrel into monotonous sequels Stallone Rocky Eastwood Dirty Harry which they and their ilk churned out madly like fresh butter hands fast and wrapped about the plunger it tossed into the air like a baseball bat for choosing up sides at a pickup game

Jesushe choked 
he rocked back on his heels tightened his ass cheeks  

he began to think better about not being a judgy sonofabitch

                                                wasnt he doing the same in the ruminduced bloodtapped lalaland behind his eyes

he closed them
             he didnt want the attendants or nurses or anyone else to haphazardly peer in and catch the flickering show  --  inverted  --  projected on the back of his corneas 

he was keen to that trick he learned it one-night-only watching a selection of eight millimetre blue flicks projected on the front windows pull blind of his neighbors house by their idiot boys

he knew they were stupid

he went to school with them

though he didnt understand the depth of their stupidity until then

or their selfishness

had they included him there would never have been the fiasco the lawn chairs setup on their front lawn the bowls of popcorn the quiet chatter others standing on the parkway with their dogs on leash Police squads later angled on the street to block traffic protect the commonweal and lavishly setting up the weasels inside for when their parents returned

fucking lugs

but at the very least they had an original idea

there wasnt a sequel to it

it would have been worth the reams of celluloid to capture(it obviously still spun on his brain reels and coils) but to-days media is muzzled by risk-aversion overseers whose profit-margins are salted away with jingoism yellow-journalism bromides and slick turds uncovered in the aforementioned

this tethered reverie

                 he really dug it

but he dug anything that was unexpected

wafting in and out back and forth he rode pinfeathers of consciousness and then suddenly derived  peeking out from his mud  an obscene sense that tickled his funnybone made him laugh in hiccups 
                                                                 perhaps this donation would also share with whomever was in the unfortunate or dire circumstance to receive it that they would realise these odd snatches he was experiencing as they were surely etched into the facets of his playtelets Faulkner chiding “ all man had was time, all that stood before between him and the death he feared and abhorred was time yet he spent half of it inventing ways of getting the other half past” his “agony of naked inanesthetisable nerve-ends which for lack of a better word (was) called being alive” or Kazins Kazins  why Kazin  his commiseration the high price paid for “the permanent crisis that is the truth of our times, the truth that cannot be fitted in, the jagged edges that would detract from the simple straight frame and the smooth design”

he either hallucinated or they welled-up from some deep subterranean fissure or store or frittered by the wind they punctuated the aether like broken ash

rumbuzzed

          hed have to do this again                    

                   

1320,  Friday,  6  5. 16

 1349, Saturday,  7  5. 16

Seal of Good Practise  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyrdRo8CQ3w

Painkiller – Buried Secrets --  Guts of a Virgin  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d075v_dl6lc

how the hell does that even work he marveled

so freakin consistent

                  so consistent in fact that he might be cajoled convinced she salted his Jockeys

he urinated into the commode beside a rimed window crackled glass affording privacy in the bathroom that no one could see into unless it was neighbors on a distant ridge using powerful binoculars and inexorable patience

his next door neighbors lived on the downside of the hill his place was on and above everyone else

theyd need a periscope

he had no modesty

too many years an athlete too many nude showers as a boy to enter a public pool(which he relished because his familys home only had a clawfoot bathtub to bathe and cleanse in)

though he was grateful it was there for his girlfriend her modesty and that her naked body was a gift she shared and gave to him and was one of the few things he was possessive of

but beside the window in the pale light extruding into the bathroom he felt first its languid wrap and tug

peering down he saw it

a thin lasso around his cock

he ceased his stream and pulled at it felt it under his scrotum then it slowly unwound growing longer and longer

they washed their clothes separately

she had dainty things that he didnt want to know how to launder and admitted long ago those were hers to ruin because surely he would

washed  he didnt mind separating out what needed to be hung to dry and what could go into the dryer

Youd think he thought her haird cling to her clothes or tumble free and be captured in the lint trap while drying

yet somehow they spurned her clothing and manifested themselves in his Jockeys and t-shirts  the creepy feeling at his neck down his back and stripping off his t-shirts hed find lengths of her hair woven in and out of its cotton weave and gently pull it free

but more often than not her hair gathered and made itself a nest in his Jockeys . . .

he entertained that perhaps this was a latent statement of her possession of his body as he possessed hers

it was strange

always abiding

              always ticklishly dumbfounding

 

1519,  Thursday,  5 5. 16

Of all people you surely have an opinion about whats transpired

Of all people

           Transpired 

                      

Transpired                                                                                                                     

You didnt see it coming
It wasnt sudden

It began like a beauty contest was run poorly was produced like a stinking reality show an when it was allotted its principal it was purely inevitably  
                           Dont you think

Rather you might or should ask me if I think something has expired  Which I dont believe is the case Nothings expired

More accurately its changed                           

But perhaps asking me what my opinion is is part of the trouble were forced to contend with  Opinion  Everyone has their opinion everyone brays their opinion briskly without considering facts careless about facts when these inconvenient facts are the basis of what is certainly true and what is true is a component of the larger Truth capital t

Ill tell you what has been accomplished

Usually  an curiously for that matter  I find the words I need while Im reading an tend to read exactly what I need to be reading at the moment I ought to be reading it

Whats been accomplished is what Faulkner wrote in '48 about '34 in Intruder in the Dust

“. . . he . . . learn(ed what) every white man in that whole section of the country had been thinking . . . for years:

We got to make him be a nigger first. He’s got to admit to be a nigger. Then maybe we will accept him as he seems to intend to be accepted.

Because . . . he learned it, all that anyone who knew that part of the country could tell him about the Negro who said ‘ma’am’ to the women just as any white man did and who said ‘sir’ and ‘mister’ to you if you were white but who you knew was thinking neither and he knew you knew it but who was not even waiting, daring you to make the next move, because he didn’t even care.”

Which isnt to say he ascribes it to black people alone

Hes a racebaiter then denies it

Hes taken a page from George Wallace  --  Its the person who accuses another of being a racist first whos really the racist

My opinion   
          He  an It  is bullshit

1211,  Friday,  6  5. 16