Friday, October 31, 2014

RECEPTION PORTCULLIS

Stupid jokes crackle tuning knobs twist hesitantly and dramatically carelessly through the hall as figures are dazed with punchlines and step into the autonomic reflexes with the caffeine buzz did you read it read all of it deleted it and scrolled through down to another career no the interest evaporated before we even got to this screen oh that's right there has never been a we. Tapping on the window shadows moving away edges of a cart retreating or large box cleaning or removing the window putting the glass or more wall in its place more wall it is. Who here remembers who is still here that remembers who used to be here stuck here who remembers what is slapped against the side of the head stupid jokes crackle tuning knobs twist hesitantly and dramatically carelessly through the hall as figures are dazed with punchlines and step into the autonomic reflexes with the caffeine buzz did you read it read all of it deleted it and scrolled through down to another career no the interest evaporated before we even got to this screen leaves brown and dry can be found under the desk toward the back where shoes deposit them from under the steps through trash during an explosion orange peeled to reveal dark wet standing up slowly who gets this kind of help what if they don't make it what if I do and I did so to speak so to speak with a tapping on a window shadows moving away edges of a cart retreating or large box cleaning or removing the window putting glass or more wall in its place more wall it is.

"Imaging, may I help you?"
"I was wondering if I could speak to someone regarding hold on I wrote it down."
"Do people still do that?"
"Do what?"
"Wonder."
"I don't think so just a phrase really."
"I couldn't come up with a reason to disagree with you more. Now how may I help you?"
"What did you just say? I didn't quite follow all that."
"It was awkwardly constructed. Never mind. How may I help you?"
"I wrote it down here. I just can't seem to read it."
"I can't read my own handwriting. I make things up."
"I think that says brain."
"I do the same thing with my thoughts as well. I just assume. It's not like I haven't done it before."
"Could you put me in touch with someone regarding a brain?"
"That'll be quite enough of the touching. You'd think with it being imaging it would be look don't touch."
"I'm sorry. I meant to say contact. No that doesn't work either."
"You used the word speak earlier. That'll do."
"I did? I did."
"And you want to speak with someone regarding a brain?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
"We don't image brains actually."
"You don't image brains?"
"Despite the public criticism of lowering our standards."

Lifting a remote dripping with sweat seeing the trail connected to the bottom of the potted plant soaked looking to the left a bloody kneecap stabbing the gut foreheads shaking in disapproval that was to be expected forgot enough to allow encouragement to accumulate enough on the tongue to open your mouth slam the top of your knuckle-headed head down hard enough to shut it the fuck up enough who had it last the first and the last really claim nothing really delete nothing when it clings to the inside of your skull except when you need it to get out of a cage in the shape of what you imagined was your calling in the shape of who was calling.

"Is this being recorded?"
"Is what being recorded?"
"This conversation. Is it being recorded?"
"What we're saying is not going to end up anywhere if that's what you mean."
"I gather that the gist of this is that there is no gist."
"The thing I dislike most about the way they designed the break-rooms is that they have one for each half of the building."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Each half has their own break-room. You can go for years without bumping into anyone from the other half of the building."
"Except if they're bringing them around to introduce them on their first day or escorting them out on their last."
"I have a list of phone numbers for other locations where they can have you speak with someone regarding a brain."
"I used to work at a place where they had one break-room for the entire building. Very few people ended up being in there in the end. Everybody got fed up with everybody and fragmented off into various complaining chambers of the facility."
"That's discouraging."
"The whole outfit specialized in discouragement. They developed packaging that was intentionally frustrating to open in order to discourage theft. It only led to their shit being smashed and destroyed by angered consumers."
"That's terrible."
"And angered staff."
"Anger burns down a lot of decorations as well as undoing all the hard work that went into those meticulously crafted displays."
"All we have left is discouragement. Anything else just keeps that fucked up packaging blowing out the assholes of assholes."
"You sound very angry."
"I did mention angered staff."
"I know."
"I used to be part of that angered staff."
"Those were the days."
"Until they escorted me out. Sometimes they'd take us out in pairs and trios."
"You sound like you're still carrying that around to fester inside you. You should let that go."
"No no no. Don't give me that. I had a therapist once who told me not to let anyone give me that. What was it she used to say? Don't let the temperature go down on your anger."
"That sounds very wise and very old. Was she old?"
"It doesn't matter she's dead now."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Sinkhole I think it was."
"Do you like bowling?"
"Not really."
"I'm looking for that list of phone numbers."
"Take your time."
"You're being sarcastic aren't you?"
"No really I've got more time than I want ever. That's always been my problem. Even when I didn't seem to have enough time to get crap done I still ended up with too much time at the end with no end in sight."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes it pools between us so we can talk. I never seem to be able to say what I really want to say and then I take advantage of opportunities that always seem wrong like I'm trying to tuck in my voice somewhere with someone."
"Conversation is artificial seasoning to sprinkle on a tasteless existence. I find that it's better to stay quiet and say fucking nothing to shutdown the sales pitch everyone has."
"Hopefully, I'll find that infamous list."
"Did you say hope?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did."
"Hope is a pile of dead birds at the foot of a cellphone tower."
"Here it is I found it."
"It doesn't say brain. Wrong wrong number."

Lifting a remote dripping with sweat seeing the trail connected to the bottom of the potted plant soaked looking to the left a bloody kneecap stabbing the gut foreheads shaking in disapproval that was to be expected forgot enough to allow encouragement to accumulate enough on the tongue to open your mouth slam the top of your knuckle-headed head down hard enough to shut it the fuck up enough who had it last the first and the last really claim nothing really delete nothing when it clings to the inside of your skull except when you need it to get out of a cage in the shape of what you imagined was your calling in the shape of who was calling.


- Max Stoltenberg

Sunday, October 19, 2014

A TILE APPROACH

I eat shit. The dust and sand get into my mouth thanks to the hot shitty wind. The hot shitty wind blows around the dust and sand that have settled on the shit on the ground. I eat shit.  I he sat moved on toward the was looking around the terrain building room the room on one of the upper floors on one of the floors on the way up there ended up being more further up past the room at the stairwell hearing those footsteps echoing in the room the walls did that repeating the ups and downs and had nothing to say soundless where there was nowhere to go except no exceptions but burrowing into the gaps filling up with the infected ways of looking at things that stood still and were breaking down on the inside built up by empty canned sayings bled onto footsteps echoing in the room the walls did that repeating the ups and downs and had nothing to say soundless where there was nowhere to go like I he did he moved toward the wall that sometimes echoed sometimes whispered he wouldn't tell anyone except those who know already they had their ways of knowing of information.

On the other hand on the other side sometimes whispered sometimes echoed on this side in this head his head less of that later has a hole in it and that's how there must be less of that later if anything left later and there will be enough of it to annoy the most foolish listener looking for whatever and a whatever to your fucking face and you heard that probably.  Probably not only saw you scratch your head washed it lately?  I stick it in the toilet now and again. And again do it again for the bottomless amusement it bestows upon the eyes that widen the smiles that curl into a sweaty mustache of pubic threads of condescension.  There is a bottom to amusement and there is a backdoor to trust ten nine was when they looked at each other eight smirking to each other over the man growing smaller by the seven stupid answers to make them laugh over wooden chairs and desks six it was stolen five that's what happens when I count try to take an inventory of things laying in the sand as it runs out through that hole less of that later has a hole in it on this side in this head his head that head heading for the glass an invisible thickness for keeping things in and out fucked either way less of that later or more if it annoys those annoyances that have to sit down again the air has been turned off over all those brief weekends and running out of it slowly ever since less of that later is that what was meant by by whatever up to the glass the tile the wall and the whispering starts up once more or just continues a background or sideways din for leaning all that steel and glass fell reunited into another acronym a vacuum cleaner several floors high or complexes long or stories downloading indefinitely sucking the redundant juices out of you and spitting them in a glass invisible thickness for keeping things in and out fucked either way time to wipe the crack the gap filled in they fill in all the gaps no room for anything except that whispering steel falling clattering rumbling stomach sit down wipe they fill in all the gaps no room for anything except that whispering steel falling clattering shattering did she hit him over the head with something finally no it was him she can't hear her speak up I know it's him it's me waiting with the glass invisible thickness keeping things in and out either way was that her him probably stirring both their voices slosh against the rim there is another rim even on that side on the other hand even there.

"Why does she do it?" I ask. No, he asks. "Why do you do it?" he asks himself. No, he asks her after asking himself after tugging on a bunch of tangled wires. "Why do I do what?" she asks after losing her train of thought something having to do with she loses it again when this doesn't help. "Why do you put yourself?" he loses his train of thought after pausing too long to try to put it into words find the words when this ear comes away from the wall and the pacing starts continues for space a little bit of space from the invisible thickness no place just rims bumping against each other. Stepped on a spot that squished with extension where eyes cross and necks try not to stick out change the subject or skip ahead spoil her disappearance betray her footprints up and down the stairs echoing whispering, "because I don't know I don't know because it might be that I can't defend myself because I didn't defend myself by staying put or putting myself last dense tissue on both sides pressed in the middle by the structures internal and external until you just wait lock yourself in and confine yourself to only go beyond one locked door at a time while you hover over your own stink and wait until the complaints run out will they run out and my latest belonging will have expired?"

How did she get it? Who gave it to her? "Why does she do it?" I ask. No, he asks. "Why do you do it?" he asks himself. No, he asks her after asking himself after tugging on a bunch of tangled wires. "Why do I do what?" she asks after losing her train of thought something having to do with she loses it again when this doesn't help. "Why do you put yourself?" he loses his train of thought after pausing too long to try to put it into words find the words when this ear comes away from the wall and the pacing starts continues for space a little bit of space from the invisible thickness no place just rims bumping against each other. Stepped on a spot that squished with extension where eyes cross and necks try not to stick out change the subject or skip ahead spoil her disappearance betray her footprints up and down the stairs echoing whispering. "Why do I do what?" she asks after losing her train of thought something having to do with she loses it again when this doesn't help. "Why do you put yourself?" he loses his train of thought after pausing too long to try to put it into words find the words when this ear comes away from the wall and the pacing starts continues for space a little bit of space from the invisible thickness no place just rims bumping against each other.


- Max Stoltenberg

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

MORE OFTEN LESS OFTEN

Dead branches had been knocked out of a paint bucket that he had accidentally kicked with his right foot.  Before he began to run back through his thoughts he bit the inside of his left jaw of his mouth.  That brought up his left hand to the left side of his face his left your right no both his left and your left if you just turn around no he'll turn around see if you can follow having a hard time following this you turn around and go back the way you you were rejected always turning around and going back over it when the sting of thoughts begins to fade think of fading is when he bites the inside of himself. Close a door and turn off the light and step outside and stop the chewing under the dirty grey skin that barks up the wrong tree had its branches yanked down around the ankles of the desert what a waste of connections relations they were called once calling out into the hot wind that whispers your name what your name sounds like when it is erased very slowly along the limbs the dead limbs of dead branches that had been knocked out of a paint bucket that he had accidentally kicked.

He said that she sounded as if she had been silently reading something speculative and had to suddenly turn up the volume to speak. She said that whenever he opened his mouth he sounded as if he had never opened a book. He said that she should talk since he had never seen her with a book and now that he was reminded neither of them had seen any books. She said that he reminded her of how much her silences drove him crazy. He said that she reminded him often of how less sane he was every day as those were flushed around them in the desert. She said that they reminded each other of how much they would really like to be able to flush what they squatted over including all the rest of it. He said that she reminded him of all the times he reminded her of how it was all too flat for any of that. She said that she would occasionally remind herself that the images, the continuity, the symbols, the signs, the frames, the vantage points, the concepts were gone and all that remained was naked reality decaying under the fraying strands of what remained to cover them as their words grew duller left alone together growing more alone from each other the only thing that could grow in a world worn down with nothing sharp left to end it all with.


- Max Stoltenberg