Saturday, November 5, 2011


You and you and and them by and by sour milk crackers within fists knuckling under.  Trees out of focus forests sharpened and people and their hair styles of misfortune knitting the meadows dead meadows exhuming failures sprinkled with the same old shit syndicated jungles digitally graded and upgraded uploaded up the shoot followed by an entourage of receipts.  Tea parties for the extinct packed with invisible friends.

(Invisible friends).

Null: Who said that?
Void: Haven't you been listening?
Null: The historiograph needle?
Void: What?
Null: Go ahead build up the question.
Void: Build it up how?
Null: Don't veer off on that one or you won't be able to enjoy another meal especially if it involves pasta and the flamboyant red sauce.
Void: Flamboyant?
Null: We bottom out in the basin of pointlessness once again.
Void: What kind of vehicle have we been about in?
Null: About where?
Void: Out and about?
Null: You're being rather roundabout when it comes around to approximating this business of roughly getting a handle on the notion applied to the approach and its methodology when it comes to determining exactly the nature of the  discussion we have been on about.
Void: And just when does it come around to it?
Null: About now?
Void: And about when is about now?
Null: Well, about some time around further back.

(Divisible friends share their traumas and admire each other's most current prosthetic).

Void: About how far back before now?
Null: It's a little difficult to pin down right now.
Void: Of course it is or was, we're not speaking about right now.  
Null: No, but we're trying to presently establish how far into the past we need to go.
Void: Was it around when we were trading anecdotes about imaginary friends?
Null: Fairly close.  It was either before or after those.
Null: No bull's eye.
Void: I was about to say that.
Void: Imaginary friends vanish in a pinch.
Null: Just about the area that I was considering bringing us back to.
Null: I'd like to speak for myself if you don't mind at least not too much.
Void: Why mind whether I mind when you speak for yourself and for me and by the way you don't speak for me when you speak for me.
Null: Tickling makes little difference when she's dead.
Void: Not this again.
Null: The possibilities haven't all been exhausted.
Void: Possibilities?  She's dead.
Void: What else is there?
Null: There you go again speaking for me.
Void: To discuss.
Null: Don't go on.
Void: No, I was just finishing.  What else is there was incomplete.  I was going to say what else is there to discuss? I hadn't completed my thought.  Something I can't seem to do even when I'm alone.
Null: Do your imaginary friends finish them for you?
Void: No, they used to go off on their own tangents.
Null: I must say that's creative of you.

(Immutable friends.  They're all set.  Set in stone.  Their ways have been sculpted by hands of stone.  Their ways are their ways.  What chiselers).

Void: No, it was rather clever of them.
Null: Have they become less creative as they aged or you actually began to think about maturity and they became less cogent and started on their way to dissolving?
Void: No, these were actual imaginary friends.
Null: As opposed to virtual imaginary friends?
Void: You can be opposed to whatever floats your excrement.
Null: Now that's below the belt, old bean.
Void: You're only accurate in terms of the bean part.  I didn't have any imaginary friends.  I only had friends who were imaginary.  Once I called them on what they were doing they exited and were no more.  The kind of people I tend to encounter seem so eager to spend great quantities of time investing their creativity in ways to construct and execute more subtle innovations in disingenuity.  Always behind now.  Can't tell if I'm getting slower or they're getting more innovative.  It can't be.  Tell me, lie to me, that it can't be.  What have they done to innovation?  What have they done to relationships?  Maybe it was never there. Always behind now.  Just like you put it earlier about it being about now.  It can never be now.  Everything gets flushed down into the sewer of the past.  They can orient all they want and all they are doing is trying to use another cleverness to perfume the growing stench of the future.  Immune deficiencies are sorely underrated.  
Void: I'm sorry when you started talking it made me realize that in reality it goes back to when I was telling you that story about the conversation between the formal logic teacher and the informal logic teacher.
Null: Modes and statements adorn their arguments?
Void: Not at all, you obviously were somewhere else.  The formal logic teacher explored how he tried to divert the faculty's attention away from his heroin usage and the informal logic teacher was obsessed with how to identify the warning signs of an exploding artery.
Null: I wish I could take myself somewhere else in the midst of this cesspool we call discourse.
Void: Before I forget, there were eight illusions court ordered to attend a 12-week reality therapy group.  One of them was a prick who confronted all of them toward the beginning of the first meeting by saying, "You're all full of shit!"
Null: Who said that?
Void: Haven't you been listening?
Null: The historiograph needle?
Void: What?
Null: Go ahead build up the question.
Void: Build it up how?

Risible friends shopping and consuming the latest stuff that no longer fertilizes the ground but gets more efficient in siphoning both potential and the darker roots of retribution so thick and rich so clever and innovative where quantity masquerades as quality in the underhanded dialectic of betrayal.  Faces don't matter, about faces even less.  Identities are emptied from one side to the other.  Down the drain on one and backed up to reappear on the other.  They show, they tell, belching with a surplus that decays into lies.  Tell them, show them, lie to them, their eyes open and close as these lids grow heavier.  Faces don't matter, about faces even less.

- Max Stoltenberg

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