Wednesday, December 31, 2014

WHERE HEAT LAMPS MEET

I'll tell you about the upper parts of her ideas of lowered looks into it the way to rumble behind us rushing into things books purchased and forgotten skipped when they were young more presentable then plastic bins larger now for coffins for the dead ends of our imagination tried to go beyond the furniture and broke the window cracked glass smirks at us behind us rushing into things books purchased and forgotten skipped when they were young more presentable then plastic bins larger now for coffins for the dead ends of our imagination tried to go beyond the furniture and broke the window cracked glass smirks at us behind us rushing the wind the blood out through our outstretched arms lowering to the bottom that has fallen out lowering to the bottom lowering lowered looks into it the way to rumble behind us rushing the wind the blood with each note tapping in her ears her hair still now I'll tell you I'll tell about the box that had the shoes once filled with sore feet tilted in the direction of moving on dealing and getting over it catapulted towards the side of the building about the third or fifth floor why only prime numbers you may ask as you walk away it may have slipped your mind to ask how long she lasted we may have neglected to ask the question how long any of us has lasted overstayed this unwelcome visit a department a division neighborhood planet with a hostile bedside manner.

They heard something downstairs and each of them distracted themselves with area codes from their earlier years taking turns distracting themselves with types of elevators conventional hydraulic, hole-less hydraulic, roped hydraulic, traction, geared traction, gear-less traction, machine room-less, and ones with an elevator operator. They listened hopelessly to the silence upstairs and each of them distracted themselves with their least favorite foods taking turns distracting themselves with cold people and the utterances they had wasted on them. They heard something downstairs and each of them distracted themselves with struggles that had been minimized by others taking turns distracting themselves with the platitudes others had minimized their struggles with without hearing anything upstairs nothing upstairs.

"Are you going to check?"
"I was just about to."
"Go where?"
"Go check."
"Check where?"
"Upstairs? Downstairs?"
"Why did you say upstairs first?"
"I eventually settled on downstairs."
"When have we heard anything upstairs?"
"Only what we've been told or told ourselves."
"Never. We've never heard anything coming from upstairs."
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Ask questions when all you have to do is just say what the deal is and not drag it out."
"Because you seem to forget what the deal is and it gets frustrating."
"It's frustrating from my side of this craggy forehead."
"Are you going?"
"There's nothing now."
"Upstairs, but what about downstairs?"
"I don't really care anymore."
"Fine. I'll go myself."
"It's been it's been"
"Don't bother."
"Something I should have done more often."
"Whatever."

She dragged her cursor over the fountain that was out of service dried up discolored with weeds at its edges waiting for a link to pop up and the music stopped and then she was suddenly aware that there had been music trying to identify the style she clicked on the image and a warning emerged of potential infection she tried and hesitated to smile to herself in the darkness the headlights muffled by the thickness of the snowfall it looked so dirty in the night never mind the odd shapes of flakes a poorly made puzzle cut up and falling about them her she went to her reminders that still shined on her phone and added that they she not have to drive so slowly as they she made their her getaway that bumped into deeper clumps of teabags tissues snot pus blood each separated with monitors acrid aftermath of experience they she continued on speeding up slowing reminding as her phone's screen extinguished itself and joined the darkness and what fell about them her swallowing and ignoring the soreness in their her throat.

"How long have you been down here?"
"I've lost track."
"So it was you making that noise."
"I tried not to knock into anything."
"Really?"
"I think it's the floor down here."
"Sure, blame your clumsiness on the floor."
"I could have done that more often in my life."
"That sounds familiar."
"We're running out of things to say."

She opened the door to see what they would say now the voices on either side of the room the office the desert her face she had finished was about to finish and it had to go like this debilitated by what they would say now the voices stuck to the sides of the mixing bowl of her mind she was about to finish she was done since all sounded so familiar her age trying to desperately outpace how old everything sounded the same tired information she was so tired she opened the door to see what they would say now to see what kind of day would happen again she opened the door as she fell out of the car.

In the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she was picked up in the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she picked up where they she had left off.

"That sounds familiar."
"We're running out of things to say."
"The only thing we had in common was that we preferred the singular they."
"I had something to my name once before the ground was too hard to scratch it in with a stick. I had made $200 and took it to a bank to open an account. Life has erased so much from my memory except for how the guy carried my money like it was a little blap of shit."
"Did you hear something?"
"From downstairs?"
"Finally. I don't have to go over this with you like I did upstairs."
"Never heard anything from upstairs."
"Exactly."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Are you going?"
"Going where?"
"Going to check it out?"
"Just tell me instead of doing the asking me questions prolonged thing."
"I guess I look to comedy too much like leftovers."
"When was the last time you came across any leftovers?"
"Exactly."
"Whatever. I'll go downstairs."
"Let me if you really don't want to."
"Don't bother."
"Never mind."
"All that is on my mind these days is what if it never was."

She opened the door to see what they would say now the voices on either side of the room the office the desert her face she had finished was about to finish and it had to go like this debilitated by what they would say now the voices stuck to the sides of the mixing bowl of her mind she was about to finish she was done since all sounded so familiar her age trying to desperately outpace how old everything sounded the same tired information she was so tired she opened the door to see what they would say now to see what kind of day would happen again she opened the door as she fell out of the car.

In the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she was picked up in the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she picked up where they she had left off.


- Max Stoltenberg

Monday, December 22, 2014

AND THE SCARF

Maybe that should have been it the undelivered letter sitting on the corner of my avoidant peripheral seeing eye dog over the hill behind the eight ball dirty toaster filled with burnt crumbs maybe that should have been it the unwritten letter catching in my throat swamped by the plausible riding the waves of greasy napkins doing this while your mother is here in the other room with the lawyer I think she said he was staying over for the night everyday an issue everyday an issue this while your mother is here in the other room with the lawyer I think she said he was renting space in my nerves I think she said he was maybe that should have been it the thoughtless phone call floating in the cup left on the counter for 4 or 5 days or a couple of weeks with hairs of exaggeration sticking out of it maybe that should have been.

"Has the water started to boil yet?"
"Have they taken the tube out?"
"Are bubbles starting to form?"
"Is anyone going to stop by and determine that it has been long overdue and remove it?"

Gnarly propensity for chewing at fingers peeling off fingernails like trying to open a bag of stale chips this that could never be put right this that could never be put quite in the way that I would feel like my whole life has been a series of landscaping mishaps projects sabotaged experienced in my being as the constant extractions of a post-hole digger between my shoulders where my head once was.

"Has the water started to boil yet?"
"Have they taken the tube out?"
"Are bubbles starting to form?"
"Is anyone going to stop by and determine that it has been long overdue and remove it?"

They stood to one side of the pile of garbage rejected from a white elephant party as either too important or not tacky enough they didn't know where their town was where their house was in relation to the organic food store couldn't find the right honey made a right onto the wrong street at the wrong right wrong light where was the street for getting rid of stuff somewhere on their street in the back of their house their yard spilled out into the desert the city was a mirage pretending to be an opportunity for at least those who stood to one side of the pile of garbage she walked around to the other side and tried to put her foot down tried to push down her side of the room just to even things out rejected from a white elephant party.

"Then you'll play the last one."
"Then what'll happen?"
"Then you'll have played the last one."
"And that'll be the last one."
"Then the first one will start up again."
"It plays over again?"
"That's what it does."

I'm breaking it down this larger thing into smaller segments separated by days I take most of the day to clear my throat and sometimes it leads to hiccoughs and sometimes it leads to my heart beating in even more disturbing patterns and then another segment settles it smooths it out into a lulling stupidity you know what I mean no you don't never mind I'm breaking it down trying to keep my hands off the buttons never know what might happen.

"What happens is that it starts over again."
"It starts over?"
"With the first one."
"Is that what he told you?"
"And now I've told you. I've told you what he told me. What do you make of it?"
"What do I make of it? What did you make of it?"
"What did I make of it?"
"Did you try it out?"
"Did I try what out?"
"To see if it starts over again. Did you try it out?"
"Of course I tried it out."
"And?"
"I tried it out and then I had to stop."
"Stopping defeats the purpose don't you think?"
"Not if you don't want it to start over again."
"You don't want him to be right do you?"
"I just don't want it to be that way."

All he was going to leave behind were the dried bits of his mucus he had picked when he found himself stuck waiting between the walls of moments that he fancied were more significant than all the ones he found himself stuck waiting when they asked what he had discovered he would say or not say anything only realize that he had found himself stuck waiting and notice on the floor what was still on the carpet what had dropped out of his nose what was still on the carpet they had asked him on to ask him what he had discovered he would say or not say anything only realize that he had found himself stuck waiting between the walls of moments that he fancied were more significant than all the ones he found himself stuck waiting when they asked what he had discovered he would say or not say anything only realize that he had found himself stuck waiting.

"And did they eventually see him?" asked the man with the rash.
"They eventually resolved to see him, but decided as a group or rather they were countermanded as a group by one of the mid-level chaps that they should have him fill out an application for the position he had been hired on before his company was acquired the third time," answered the woman with parrot calendars in her office.
"One of the mid-level chaps did you say?" asked the man who was rather rash.
"One of the upper mid-level chaps," answered the woman parroting the man with the rash's way of saying mid-level as she could hear in her head how he had almost spewed carbonated soda trying to say stamina in the booth they shared at the last miserable fair.
"You mean the position he was hired on before the fourth acquisition," answered the man with the rash.
"Not the last one," answered the woman with parrot calendars in her office.
"I'm not saying that. The next to last one. I know that," said the man who was rather rash.
"It might as well be the last one with them wanting him to start over at the bottom not completely all the way at the bottom just barely above it," said the woman parroting the way the instructor of a mandatory webinar spoke out of her ass.
"Deboning the trout are they?" asked the man with the rash.
"Deboning the trout they have," answered the woman with parrot calendars in her office.

What death bed? Wake up to another wrinkle another fold the collapse drawn out accentuated in more folds and wrinkles obscuring the notches made in the doorframe marking the ascent of shoulders that now only move up and down in shrugs and the weight of disinterest. What death bed? The one behind the behind the curtain peeled away by the last why did you say that you have mouths to feed what death bed what will you say about the risks not taken besides the birthing in the desert under blades in the dark of night surrounded by cinder block shaking with traffic and the indigestion of the world besides the asking for your name to include in the next hat the next glass bowl of accusations. What death bed? The one behind the behind the curtain peeled away by what you say by keeping your mouth shut you have mouths to keep shut mouths to let speak even though they may drop you into the next hat the next glass bowl of accusations.

"Has the water started to boil yet?"
"Have they taken the tube out?"
"Are bubbles starting to form?"
"Is anyone going to stop by and determine that it has been long overdue and remove it?"
"Why don't you say flatscreen nobody says tube much anymore."
"Can I return it?"
"Only for the original item you got."
"I may as well take it to donation."
"I heard they have enough now to make a version of the town with less expectation."

Gnarly propensity for chewing at fingers peeling off fingernails like trying to open a bag of stale chips this that could never be put right this that could never be put quite in the way that I would feel like my whole life has been a series of landscaping mishaps projects sabotaged experienced in my being as the constant extractions of a post-hole digger between my shoulders where my head once was.


- Max Stoltenberg