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Where to stand so they'll find the clothes not in clothes or the clothing over by the can't make up and of course not in make up or the cosmetics wish they had a making up place for making up fat chance for that and certainly not in the plus sizes or maybe that is where these clothes should go where they should could go with those clothes over there or around the other side if there were more on the other side the other side of this side nothing what are they hanging there stuffed in there neatly different than was expected than what was expected what was expected? That was the what color was it red or yellow yellow think it was to note make a note of make up not over there making this up that's it making it up not with anyone just for reasons to be kept on this side not the other side which side are they on not here yet here yet they side with which side is this on that side that on this side siding used to like to walk around just outside just past that duct and smell the drying clothes inside the warmth and the smoke off the cigar that mouth that mouth tightening just outside along that siding a pale green just outside as the just inside tightening that mouth tightening smoke thickening fading.
Fading away shelved in the ground in a wall shelves of storage containers blue lids black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere stiff neck wants to find where the moon would it be out outside just outside stiff neck rubbing with dirty hands black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere somewhere misty with water sprinklers the fountain's still broken no one coming to fix it no one coming when will they where to stand so they'll find the clothes not clean enough bath and body works itself out in the end fading away shelved in the ground in a wall shelves of storage containers blue lids black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere just a balloon that says can't see what it says as it's turning around turning away one letter at a time can't see anything beyond the horizon of that big balloon far up there beyond its horizon.
Decoding debugging trying not to be a bother to anyone noticing these clothes standing where to stand so they will not be bothered decoding the coordinates where to stand a decoder with the little red window had that until the window fell out and landed in the water his big voice booming on the dock why couldn't you listen and be more careful? As careful as when one of the only remaining undeleted movements whether bowel or symphony (the juridical is reserved for hardcovers and flaccid minds) the backroom was abandoned to its staff microwave choking on another neglected meal the victim of an extra errant zero overcooking it into the unrecognizable where food, plastic, and cardboard are blobbed into the monstrous visual noise of one unitive integral holistic eclectic mess. Denial is surpassed by absence. Getting the hell out of places never deprived one of suffering. It seemed to follow along somewhere in the baggage even when it was unpacked and dissolved it would linger as yet another layer of life the gummy adhesive of relation connection some contact yet to fade never quite fading away.
Decoding debugging turning pages to where among the titles and subtitles texts and subtexts the top of one led to the bottom of another:
The mail that had arrived on that day had arrived on that day later than on the day before that and on that day before that, it had arrived later than on the day before that and on that day before the day before that it had arrived later than on the day before that that he started to become aware of a pattern in how his name appeared on every piece of mail that had arrived on that day had arrived later on that day than on the day before that and on that day before that, it had arrived later than on the day before that and on that day before the day before that it had arrived later than on the day before that that he started to become aware of a pattern in how his name appeared on every piece of mail that had arrived on that day had arrived later on that day than on the day before that and with one less letter in his last name than on the day before that had on that day had one less letter in his last name than on the day before that and on that day that was the day before the day before that had had one less letter in his last name than on the day before that. The woman who flossed her teeth on the bus opposite him the following morning gaped at him as she tugged the string back and forth between two lower teeth all the while he firmly pressed an index finger to his lips holding in all the things he felt no longer needed to be said. The woman who flossed her teeth on the bus opposite him gaped at him as if witnessing unkempt digits grip a substantial dried chunk out of his nostril the day before the morning that followed had brought little disgust in comparison. As the woman tugged the string back and forth between two lower teeth next to the two lower teeth that had surrendered a tiny yellow fragment of scrambled egg all the while he firmly pressed an index finger to his lips holding in all the things he felt no longer needed to be said all the while tightening on the inside just inside.
Fading away shelved in the ground in a wall shelves of storage containers blue lids black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere stiff neck wants to find where the moon would it be out outside just outside stiff neck rubbing with dirty hands black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere somewhere misty with water sprinklers the fountain's still broken no one coming to fix it no one coming while still thinking of water everywhere water bodies cleaner than these clothes not in the clothes or clothing where to stand where they'll notice the clothes need to be clean enough water still thinking of water everywhere there is water it is never still always rippling and tides of churning destructive waves booming with the voice so careful now so unheard now index finger firmly pressed to lips holding in all the things that no longer needed to be said.
- Max Stoltenberg
Most of them died the thoughts most of them had died. There was no use in going over their manner or fashion of death. Only very slight variations characterized each and every snuffing out of flashes in the brain-pan. Away from what was supposed to be right next to it have it within by the undigested lettuce leafs differ seen through remaining thoughts thinner than that much thinner.
They were practicing their synchronized yawning all the while rubbing their eyes and hardly lifting their asses out of somebody’s talk-show that constantly reared its ugly made over painted over talking heads over and over talking around and under each other transferring from line to line knocking over hydrant after hydrant as they reared back to make room for yet another hydrant to pop up in its lopped off place from place to place once quiet places what had silence been like only what it had been like between them. Someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking on it. They were leaning on it.
She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. Took what she heard took what she got and broke a nail on her right hand trying to pull out a staple. The only response that emerged resulted in unsuccessfully holding back her own isolated laughter at her own sarcasm as a flake of snot hit and stuck to the artificial plant that she thought might have been out of range. Another water balloon inside her myelin hairnet revealed scribbling in its condensation to the effect of being deranged having to do with no longer possessing a talent for extrapolating distances.
Distant so distant but nonetheless it was someone. Someone someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking on it.
Far off it seemed until it pressed deeper between skin and fingernail like slivers of moonlight reflecting off a butcher knife until it pressed deeper between skin and fingernail like slivers of moonlight reflecting off a butcher knife or slivers of moonlight reflecting off a butcher’s 4 by 4 front windshield reflecting the moonlight far off it seemed until it pressed deeper between skin and fingernail like silvers of neon light under obscured moonlight reflecting off a butcher’s baldness dripping with sweat or what looked like it having dripped from the steamy awning up above perspiring with hot rain until it pressed deep far from it distant so distant it was someone. Someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking on it. They were leaning on it.
“Drowned.”
“Who?”
“Her.”
“Her who?”
“You drowned her out with your noise.”
“Just tore off one sheet from my pad.”
“And you just tore off one good layer from your cuticle.”
“You weren’t supposed to notice that.”
“I was saying.”
“Is it time for lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why did we come in?”
“That’s the real reason we come in.”
“No, I mean in this room.”
“I was saying.”
“Could you start over?”
“None of us can really start over.”
“I call that waking up.”
“I call it something else.”
“You want me to start all the way at the beginning?”
“We’re sorry to make you do that.”
“You might be, but I’m not.”
“All right, he’s not, but I am.”
“Once they got to the part of the project where you put on the what do you call them? Damn, I hate when I do that. They reached that part you know where they have to put on the what you do you call them?”
“I don’t know. You haven’t reached that part yet.”
“Brakes. They put on the brakes.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been talking about all this time?”
“Nesting grounds.”
“What?”
“Is it time for lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“Is it time for breakfast?”
She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. Took what she heard took what she got and broke a nail on her right hand trying to pull out a staple. The only response that emerged resulted in unsuccessfully holding back her own isolated laughter at her own sarcasm as a flake of snot hit and stuck to the artificial plant that she thought might have been out of range. Another water balloon inside her myelin hairnet revealed scribbling in its condensation to the effect of being deranged having to do with no longer possessing a talent for extrapolating distances.
“Not yet.”
“When will it be time for lunch?”
“You mean breakfast.”
“Yes, breakfast. When will it be time for breakfast?”
“Never mind that. You really meant dinner.”
“I did?”
“You were inquiring about dinner.”
“Yeah, when is that?”
“Soon after you return.”
“You make it sound like we never leave.”
“Sure seems that way.”
“Hinges.”
“What about hinges?”
“That’s what they were putting on so they could attach the doors.”
“Some have nerves of steel.”
“And some just have a lot of nerve.”
“And that’s when they realized that they had that whole side of it reversed. So they had to take all the screws on that side out.”
“What are you wearing?”
“It’s a button-down shirt, I think.”
“I can see that. Is it a new type of deodorant?”
“It’s definitely not me.”
“Haven’t showered?”
“Well, that, too, but I’m just past my expiration date.”
She tried
She tried to turn pages
To turn pages
With her tongue
Never fading
Never forming
Until until
Eaten away unnoticed
Grabbing for the bottle
Of white chalkiness
Turning on noticing
No rain to be right as in the backyard where there was that table that picnic table backyard table sat with daddy to play chess took my bishop took his queen he knocked the pieces over got up and walked away far off until dispossessed of the talent what talent for distances.
No rain to be right as.
Turning on noticing
Noticing what has been lost
Beneath the lawn
That has died again
Never fading
Never forming
Until until
Eaten away unnoticed
Grabbing for the bottle
Of white chalkiness
Noticing what has been lost
Beneath the lawn
That has died again
Never fading
Never forming
“A desk. I’ve been talking about a flipping desk that they had half a side reversed with all the screws that they had to re-screw to redo the reversed side back the other way to match the unreversed side the right way.”
“That sounds screwed up.”
“So where do you get it was about driving in all that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Maybe I mentioned something like they were driving screws into it even though they got half of it reversed.”
“No. You didn’t mention driving.”
“Then what’s all that about putting on the brakes?”
“Oh. I thought you made some side comments about one of them having relationship issues.”
“I didn’t make any side comments. You were probably confused by side comments outside what I was saying and in this room.”
“You never told me what deodorant it is.”
“Nothing new under the arms.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
“Or just get a bag of donettes out of the snack machine.”
“Don’t. You’ll make her go into another self-deprecating rant.”
“I’ll start at the beginning. It starts with someone asking me a question. You know or maybe you don’t. Me. In this room. And then that’s as far as it gets I get because it’s like questions are asked not to get to me but to get to you and the clever or not so clever turning it around or away and you want to talk about driving or maybe I want to talk about driving and how it’s always me seeing you in your cars and you’ll only want to give me some sign of something and all it ends up being is you giving me some sign that you want to get ahead of me so you can make your turn and be on your way away and far off while I sit here asking myself questions answering myself or not answering myself not giving a shit about if it has a point or not.”
“What is the point?”
“To be prepared I think.”
“That's what they keep telling us.”
“That's what they tell each other about their talents.”
“Remotely care, but not very reliable when it comes to distance.”
Most of them died the thoughts most of them had died. There was no use in going over their manner or fashion of death. Only very slight variations characterized each and every snuffing out of flashes in the brain-pan. Away from what was supposed to be right next to it have it within by the undigested lettuce leafs differ seen through remaining thoughts thinner than that much thinner.
- Max Stoltenberg
Remote helplessness pressed its predictability into the little bag of soy sauce. Into it again has it gone off and done it now or sooner or later for now for once the noggin with the sunglasses and the hair that ignores questions with its body its form relating to no one's expense but them scratching and itching and stopping what they're doing looking down at their legs for that bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things.
Platform
Going going now going to stay here and keep them off going to just be going to be going going off and on to be going off to stay here and keep them off of them and on to some other keeping of somehow for who is it now going on about it not being or going far enough need to get up and find it just be going to be going off and find it just be going just follow the glints and the winks ignore the smirks can't ignore the smirks just follow just going to be going off and on to be going off to stay here and keep them off and keep your hands up they might not say anything keep them off going off the glints can't ignore the going off and on to be going off as long as it can as long as they might not say anything can't ignore the on to be going off going to stay here and keep them off.
Plateau
Plateau not platform. It has been a plateau made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the plateau keeping the plateau not the platform not the plateau not the platform it has been a plateau made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the plateau keeping the plateau not the platform not the plateau not the platform it has been a plateau made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the plateau keeping the hands up keeping them off and not saying anything as long as it can as long as they are not saying anything won't let the muscles these legs where the bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things keeping them off and not saying anything as long as it can as long as they are not saying anything won't let the muscles these legs where the bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them push on them keeping them off not saying anything as long as it can as long as they are not saying anything children stay inside stay outside out of reach keeping them not saying anything as long as they can keep can't ignore the words come
later
earlier the processor has been wound tighter and fitter for the track between the tracks curving between the mountains and their propellers spinning and twisting things heart missed a beat or was it more more these days these days what are these days? along the tracks those days along the tracks rocks on either side down below get there quicker than a sharp turn along the tracks those days fitter for the track between the tracks curving and straightening and speeding and hurtling to a chair to a desk to buttons pushed up from the platform the plateau has been a plateau a platform made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the platform the plateau.
"Is yours stuck as well?"
"No, I think it's only you."
"It's just me?"
"What else is new?"
"Someone died just on the other side of this wall," she said as she indicated with a nod of her head towards the wall with a silverfish on it just above the carpet where some paper dots had fallen from the latest sheets on pathogens and their reach.
"What else is new?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"I think you've beaten this horse to death."
"Their skull was caved in."
"What?"
"We're out of ice."
"Tell me something I don't know."
She kept trying to forward the attachment but the system was stuck. Ignoring him and his comments she picked up the book and examined the binding that looked more eaten away. She felt a pulling and looked under her desk. Nothing. Still swiping her skirt her knees and her shins with her hand as a precautionary tale bringing it up and holding carrying holding her hand over her frozen keyboard looking at her palm and the discolored skin the features fewer patches of softness.
Sometimes.
Remote helplessness pressed its predictability into the little bag of soy sauce. Into it again has it gone off and done it now or sooner or later for now for once the noggin with the sunglasses and the hair that ignores questions with its body its form relating to no one's expense but them scratching and itching and stopping what they're doing looking down at their legs for that bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things.
Sometimes.
Sometimes a bag of soy sauce is all they had. Going out of town more often to find a supermarket that hadn't gone off and done it now or sooner or later for now for once the noggin with the sunglasses and the hair that ignores questions with its body its form relating to no one's expense but them scratching and itching and stopping what they're doing looking down at their legs for that bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things.
Sometimes you have to.
She felt a pulling and tried not to look under her desk. Trying to ignore the pulling the hiding under the desk.
Sometimes you have to reach.
Can't ignore the pulling the pushing the pushing up of the hands underneath underneath the weight of the platform the plateau under the weight of all that dirt.
"Sometimes you have to reach beyond yourself."
"Reaching beyond myself is like reaching for the single-ply toilet paper you keep reaching you keep pulling more and more."
She felt a pulling and tried not to look under her desk. Trying to ignore the pulling the hiding under the desk. Can't ignore the pulling the pushing the pushing up of the hands underneath underneath the weight of the platform the plateau under the weight of all that dirt in his tiny little wooden box more eaten away the pulling the pushing she felt can't ignore still swiping her skirt her knees and her shins with her hand as a precautionary tale bringing it up and holding carrying getting bigger too big to carry to hold holding her hand over her frozen keyboard looking at her palm and the discolored skin the features fewer patches of softness.
More worn away more eaten away the hardening frame around the deteriorating picture he held while he sat on a rock looking at the deteriorating picture of the man looking down at the rows of houses and the moving trucks wondering when they would notice where he had been looking at the front door and waiting for them to emerge into the picture the deteriorating picture he held while he sat on a rock looking at the deteriorating picture of the man looking down at the rows of houses and the moving trucks wondering when they would notice where he had been looking at the next front door waiting for them to emerge into the picture the deteriorating picture more worn away more eaten away.
- Max Stoltenberg
Really? So? Really? So? So they say so they go there they go with their applications applying the crowbar an old crowbar an old metal arm bent on prying prying into things boxed up stuff stuffed into rooms into buildings into blocks into blocks wrapped in dust storms dripping with sour grapes spitting out teeth out the back window quickly quickly some are sticking to the bottom lip smoke them if you got them quickly quickly they’re coming around to the back window with the crowbar to pry or cover up the window in paper or plastic.
It was getting around and the way to get around was in metaphors and they didn’t get around very much between walls papered with directions speaking in a bed caught between blue skies must be can’t speak must be in a nothing’s coming out of what’s at the base at the base of the head down between the points of view hanging there like a useless private part dangling in public between blue skies in what must be in a what escapes from what can’t escape only to crash back down to the Earth and into the room inside from the outside where the crowbar and the prying continues.
The only record left to break was a broken record and there wasn’t that many of them left to break as they get repackaged as they skip along better than small legs that have forgotten as they had been broken as they had been squeezed out between tiles sticking it out together holding each other’s grooves together sticking it out together across wrinkles erased and squeezed out between tiles sticking it out together row after row beneath their feet where they had steamrollered into memory and spread things out stretched things out across the land stretching on to the point where there was no longer any vanishing point no matter how it’s sliced.
Didn’t wave back eyes looking through an existence that pretends to go on. Don’t know what they want they don’t know what they want pick for them read it off to them read it off the papered walls papered with directions read them off to them who didn’t wave back eyes looking through an existence that pretends to go on that pretends to look on at what didn’t wave back eyes looking through this view a view this view a view pretending to go on with this view a view pretending to be someone’s view pretending to belong to someone pretending to be someone really? so? really? so? gonna end up back in the front of the story in the back of the story by the back window back in the front when they come around to the back they do that they say that making any back turned to them the front that’s what confrontation does they did they didn’t wave back eyes looking through eyes bent into a metal arm prying while they insist to want something not knowing what they want pick for them read for them from the papered wall tearing pieces off for reading off from the moebius strips of directions where to begin?
Party of Seven No Six
They sat down at the table and were ready for soup on this very cold day overcast with suspicion. Monitoring each other’s movements as they each stirred around their letters around their bowls around the corner just around the corner would come one more of them to round things off. More on this later, but first it was the servant and how she had stepped back into the kitchen back into the backroom where she could be surrounded by nothing but the cold as they had their soup and their letters while she had stepped back into the kitchen back into the backroom where she could be surrounded by nothing but the cold but she would have to come out eventually and their soup and their stirring and their letters stirring their letters around their bowls around the corner just around the corner would come one more of them to round things off. More on this later, but first it was the servant and how she had stepped back into the kitchen back into the backroom where she could be surrounded by nothing but the cold.
Who are you talking to?
Nobody.
To yourself?
To yourself? To the tile to the wall that’s what she used to say how speaking to me was like talking to the wall and still no matter how still no matter how much it is now no matter how much it is what it is still is still she speaks still she screams at these walls pulling out the nails one by one hammering them in and pulling them out. To yourself? Are you talking to yourself or to the wall to the tile or to the wall? And still no matter how still no matter how much it is now how much it is what it is still is still she speaks still she screams and they and their prying having nowhere to go with this tile but in sinking in that’s what she wanted all along was for it to sink in sinking in with that sinking feeling. Got that sinking feeling I’ve been talking to the wall.
That’s what confrontation does they did they didn’t wave back eyes looking through eyes bent into a metal arm prying while they insist to want something not knowing what they want pick for them read for them from the papered wall tearing pieces off for reading off from the moebius strips of directions where to begin?
Party of Seven No Six
They sat down at the table and were ready for soup on this very cold day overcast with suspicion. Monitoring each other’s movements as they each stirred around their letters around their bowls around the corner just around the corner would come one more of them to round things off. More on this later, but first it was the servant —
Didn’t you read this already?
I think you’re right.
Skip ahead.
She would have to come out eventually and their soup and their stirring and their letters stirring their letters around their bowls around the corner just around the corner would come —
Skip ahead skip ahead.
While she had stepped back into the kitchen back into the backroom where she could be surrounded by nothing but the cold but she would have to come out eventually and their soup and their stirring and their letters stirring their letters —
Never mind.
No, wait. Let me finish this one section.
How would you know? How would you know you were finished?
She could be surrounded by nothing but the cold but she would have to come out eventually —
Just stop.
She would have to come out eventually.
Like talking to the wall. Like talking to the wall and still no matter how still no matter how much it is now no matter how much it is what it is still is still she speaks still she screams at these walls pulling out the nails one by one hammering them in and pulling them out one by one hammering them in like the hammering on the door where there was a stopping off for fast food there was hammering on the door where there was a stopping off for changing a diaper where there was a hammering on the door where there was a screaming outside where there was a screaming inside and still no matter how still no matter how much it is now no matter how much it is what it is still she speaks still she screams at these walls.
Didn’t wave back eyes looking through an existence that pretends to go on. Don’t know what they want they don’t know what they want pick for them read it off to them read it off the papered walls papered with directions read them off to them who didn’t wave back eyes looking through an existence that pretends to go on that pretends to look on at what didn’t wave back eyes looking through this view a view this view a view pretending to go on with this view a view pretending to be someone’s view pretending to belong to someone pretending to be someone really? so? really? so? gonna end up back in the front of the story in the back of the story by the back window back in the front when they come around to the back they do that they say that making any back turned to them the front that’s what confrontation does they did they didn’t wave back eyes looking through this view a view this view a view pretending to go on with this view a view pretending to be someone’s view pretending to belong to someone pretending to be someone.
- Max Stoltenberg
Flat the world was flat on its back his back he was flat on his back on the world that was flat rather more like a mound under his back couldn't make time for picking out where he had fallen. Skipped sandals came off after they scraped out an unfinished dance scraped out right off the cement skipped skipped someone skipped a turn and the play going around as it goes around doesn't seem right right off the cement skipped and scraped out an unfinished dance scraped out right off the cement skipped skipped sandals came off after they scraped out an unfinished dance scraped out right off the cement skipped skipped someone skipped a turn and the play going around as it goes around doesn't seem right right off the cement skipped skipped someone skipped someone's turn.
Flat the world was flat on its back he was flat on his back on the world that was flat rather more like a mound under his back couldn't make time for picking out where he had fallen. Depending on the approach how one approaches it they approached one on either side of the heap.
"Fallen in a heap or on a heap have you?" said Pasty.
"Is that any way to start?" asked Wafer.
"He could use a frightening start to jostle him up a bit," responded Pasty.
"You and your unorthodoxies," said Wafer.
"I think we got to him just in time," noticed Pasty.
"My brain-case is flooding with numbers," said Wafer.
"There you go flooding again. No wonder you never get anywhere. You're wading for the world to be turned into one humongous zero-depth pool sloshing around in circles stuck in your diluvian maelstrom," said Pasty.
"Maelstrom. You'd like that wouldn't you?" asked Wafer.
"I would, actually," said Pasty.
"You and your miserable miserable," idled Wafer.
"Well?" invited Pasty.
"Miserable miserable," continued Wafer.
"Do go on, Wafer," said Pasty.
"Miserable miserable," continued Wafer.
"I think you've covered this ground already," said Pasty.
"You and your," said Wafer.
"Don't hold back you hammered memory card. Allowing yourself to spew forth with the ample equine stream of jeremiads will remedy my feeling so one-dimensional," said Pasty.
"Miserable necrotic worm-like harbinger of of," struggled Wafer.
"Now is not the time to run out of inflammatory momentum. I can see the raw nerve open in the end zone," said Pasty.
"Harbinger of of," choked Wafer.
"No, you have to back it up all the way like you did before and give yourself enough space and time to refill the old bladder," said Pasty.
"My bladder isn't that old," insisted Wafer.
"Never mind that. In the end zone," said Pasty.
"What was that?" asked Wafer looking about the deserted lot.
"The raw nerve," said Pasty.
"No. What was that sound?" asked Wafer.
"What? What sound?" asked Pasty.
"What is that? I'm trying to figure out what that sounds like," said Wafer looking off further toward some boarded up homes and fields overgrown with thick weeds.
"I'm still focused on what your finishing insult was going to be but alas while voices hem and haw fumbling with the same turning and turning of phrase to patch over the stinking hole in the banner above our heads we shrug our shoulders and brace ourselves for the next condemnation," said Pasty.
"That sounded like when distant loud trucks run over something that makes an even louder noise," considered Wafer.
"You mean like mattresses filled with horse manure?" asked Pasty remembering inaccurately a familiar scene elsewhere or it was elsewhere that Pasty could recall more accurately unfamiliar scenes.
"How would they be loud?" asked Wafer as the implosion in his skull of a stereo that once was before it provided its feedback that was no more echoed and echoed like most of what he tried to say but got stuck in the echo as he blinked from the aftermath.
"I'd hate to be on the curb right there when those mattresses take those tires and give up their explosive wave after wave of horse manure. Could imagine it as an abundant stacking of overpumped mattresses. 10 or 11 of them," said Pasty.
Leaving so soon?
What are you writing with?
Turds, turds, turds.
Inveterate rot working its way onto the litterbox recipe nodules of cake and fancy free free of fancy stuck together and the cutting board lacquered with allergic expressions expressions so allergic to so many directions all the directions tried and even wrenching one's neck or back in directions directions each with their allergic expressions on the cutting board pavement cutting board office walls for tracking the whereabouts of hints of replies that give it all away between desks where it happened to her where it happened to him.
Leaving so soon?
"Wave after wave from the overpumped," repeated Pasty.
"I heard you," coughed Wafer.
"What was that word you used earlier? Damn good one," inquired Pasty.
"Harbinger?" offered Wafer.
"No. Not that one. I like harbinger but that wasn't it," said Pasty.
"Pestilence," answered Wafer.
"You never used that word," corrected Pasty.
"I know. I was getting to it eventually," said Wafer.
"Very good. Wish I could just say what that word was though. The one you said," bemoaned Pasty.
"Interrupting a long drawn out stomach virus with a brief invocation of a scathing adjective can somehow come up alongside ejaculating into a mostly browned banana peel," said Wafer.
"Not quite the comparison I would readily grab off the charred shelf," said Pasty.
Leaving so soon?
Where it happened to her where it happened to him.
Where it happened mostly to her.
"It was him," said Wafer.
"Him?" asked Pasty.
"It was him down here between us on this heap here him the heap here who must have made the sound," said Wafer.
"You don't say," said Pasty.
"I do. Him down here between us on this heap here him the heap here. It looks as if he's moving even or trying to," said Wafer examining the heap and beginning to kneel down to get closer.
"Leaving so soon," said Pasty.
"He's definitely attempting some movement," said Wafer.
"Well, you like that. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" asked Pasty.
"I thought that's what you've always wanted," said Wafer.
"Maybe. Just not as much as you. I'm still reflecting on where I stand on that one," said Pasty.
"Still reflecting?" asked Wafer.
"Normally, yes," said Pasty.
"Really? That's still around?" asked Wafer.
"Of course. I mean, it could be. I'm still reflecting on that one as well. I've added it to my repertoire a spell or so," said Pasty.
"Your repertoire?" asked Wafer.
"Of reflection," said Pasty.
"Perhaps you'd better hurry that up because he's mouthing something like he's saying something," said Wafer.
Leaving so soon.
"It's all right. Speak up," said Wafer.
"The power's been off," whispered the body on the heap whispered the heap.
"By the looks of you, I'd say, yes, it has been," confirmed Pasty.
"Where I was," said the heap speaking up a bit.
"Where you were?" asked Wafer.
"In a coma, I think. Must've dropped off behind the wheel of my car," the heap said.
"Where's you car?" asked Pasty.
"In the garage. Couldn't keep the door shut on that chapter for a final chapter. When your eyes open again so much nothing can pass by all too suddenly. Can't tell you. Can't tell you how many days or weeks it was probably more or less. Who the fuck knows. Forget it. Just go on. Keep walking. It's the shape as you walk as you look. It's the shape of this town. Could tell when I first got here that the shape was going to let me in and never never let me out. Just go on. As you walk as you look or try not to. Can't help it. Can't help ignoring the shapes of things."
- Max Stoltenberg
Nothing could make her move toward anything while she heard the pounding of her hands on her desk in her head where anything could make her move toward nothing. Thinking of attempts she had made attempts she had made to think to think of dried clothes warmed and uninterrupted by other sounds sounds of other voices and their spit spit darkening the fabric. But first the slamming of the lid of the laundry basket but next things first for she was covered in ifs, ands, ors, and buts. Can not can not can not can not can not bear it either way. There they are there it is needing and not needing something cracking something up or down or out or in two cut in two cut short in a brief patch over that tear in the blouse came that way through a brief patch when visiting or when visited by those people that posture he had so important to him even when he reached down with his hands cut short in brief red threw the pair in the bin could drop it off won't join it for now let it drop away with its clothes that grow and thin around her drop them off let them drop off into a dark hole growing in her skull in that back corner see the back of her the locks coming down that yellow dress with the tiny circles lollipops maybe there they are there it is.
"Maybe maybe you could turn around before."
"Before what?"
"Before the 5 minutes."
"No."
The corner sank into the tar slathered over the gap. But first before the slamming of the lid of the laundry basket but first before the slamming turn around can not can not can not can not see her face from white page to white tabletop to white laptop to white screen to white blinds to white tile to white door paneled impaneled paneled to white light outside to white rocks to the white line space to the white line space to the white line space stop space to the white lines on black tar slathered over the gap where the corner sank but first before the slamming of the lid of the laundry basket but first before the slamming turn around turn around please and show that face those lips a drop of snot on the edge of them but first turn around before the slamming of the lid of the laundry basket what is that on the lid? Are those lines are those shapes want to count the sides count can not can not can not can not see her face from white page to white tabletop to white laptop to white screen to white blinds to white tile to white door paneled impaneled in a big hard wooden box they had to count had to had to count now one time too many.
"Maybe maybe you could turn around before."
"Before what?"
"Before the 5 minutes."
"No."
"Don't say no to me."
"You say no to me."
"Say no to me again and I'll say no to you again. One time too many two times too many three four ten too many times too many. Can not can not can not can not count my teacher used to say to me she did. She could count they could count me out unless they wanted me to sit in a big wooden box with others they had counted on count me out count me in the c word screamed at you to put your undies on with that voice that screamed at me couldn't let me run around with my fingers visiting them or did they visit us together in the brief patch surrounded by hedges told me there were mountains beyond the things you told me they told me couldn't count one time too many two times too many three four ten too many times too many couldn't count on what they told me couldn't count the teacher told me didn't add up have me taken away they told me no equals ever not even for a brief patch the brief patch surrounded by hedges with those behind them they told me couldn't count on what they told me surrounded by ifs, ands, ors, and buts. Say no to me again and I'll say no to you again. Yes just makes stay but no might make me move might make me stir might make me scream might make me fume might make me smolder might make me might make me might might think think of attempts of of attempts to think to think of dried clothes warmed and uninterrupted by other sounds sounds of other voices and their spit spit darkening the fabric."
- Max Stoltenberg
The way was off topic. The radio was left on while nothing came through clearly. The sound of static crinkling from the radio was like a cork had been pulled out and what was thought and what was thought and what was thought stuck to the lip the corkless mouth and its sound of static coming from the radio was like a cork had been pulled out and what was thought plausible and what was thought sustainable and what was thought enduring was escaping from the room not much room left for escaping through the butthole into the beyond protection beyond surge protection beyond explanation beyond explanations that had pissed them off far beyond any reason or response far beyond any simmering in a vat of bathos. Come come on let them come come on do they follow following on the rim beyond and on come come on let them come on do they follow following on the rim beyond and on come on escaping on from the room not much room left for escaping what was what was thought on come on what was what was thought on sustainable or plausible what was what was thought on had been pulled out with the cork from the radio static crinkling on static going on the way off topic ongoing.
The way was off topic and yet another thing was emerging up out of their food. They crawled into their own cavities. Is that a reflection or someone else's appliances across the way? Heads rest on dirty hands haven't gotten around to washing them this time or the other. Haven't gotten around much anymore just going around and around these holes in the ground they curve like the little smiles that faded away in the car window on the way the way was off topic. Big mouths big teeth grit their stuff when the next round of little smiles begin to fade away in the car window on the way the way was off topic.
"What are you looking at?"
"Give me a little more time. No one ever gives me the proper amount of time I seem to need to think. I keep trying to tell myself there has to be more in there."
"More bullshit you mean."
"There it is again. There you are again."
"Me what?"
"You and my bullshit. There you are again. Like something sticking out of the ground to trip me up just when I'm trying to right myself. You and my bullshit. Very good."
"Bullshit doesn't need the proper amount of time for more of it. It needs to be shoveled into bags and set on fire in front of the right doorstep."
"Good luck with that as you choose among those who are getting tired of ignoring all those messages whether live or recorded of being randomly selected."
what was what was thought on had been pulled out with the cork from the radio static crinkling on static going on the way off topic ongoing.
The way was off topic and yet another thing was emerging up out of their food. They crawled into their own cavities. Is that a reflection or someone else's appliances across the way? Heads rest on dirty hands haven't gotten around to washing them this time or the other. Haven't gotten around much anymore just going around and around these holes in the ground they curve like the little smiles that faded away in the car window on the way the way was off topic. Big mouths big teeth grit their stuff when the next round of little smiles begin to fade away in the car window on the way the way was off topic.
"What happened to your hair?"
"Schoolyard."
"What happened at the schoolyard?"
"No. I thought I saw a schoolyard. It's hard to tell in the darkness of night."
"It's hard to tell anything at this level."
"And what level are we at?"
"Lower than the one before."
The walls were dripping dripping with windows windows on murkier things along the way and the way was off topic as it so happened as it so-called passed them by without their seeing without their knowing without them. Hot compresses cooled and dried into scabs that took their time and everyone else's. Hot applications to front porches compressing burns and cuts swelling emergencies burning their messages against eyes closed into frozen dinners.
They didn't see it coming. They saw it coming. This is what they told themselves after Chapter 10.
And now Chapter 14.
Which opens with a devastating and intriguing devastation of anything resembling a way out for the animals the insects the squirming the can't sit still and why should they keep moving? sit still?
And now Chapter 15.
Which begins with a benighted intrigue lapping at the shores of towns where they are on all fours having their milk pinched from their chests holding their breath that molds into armor for surviving the next wave of annihilation and they are still there with their heavy armor plating to slither along until the next wave of annihilation and they are still there for the next flashback.
Flashback . . .
. . .
Flashback . . .
Scene 4
"What happened to your hair?"
"It's gone."
"I can see it's gone. What happened to it?"
"No. The light is gone."
"It's been gone. What did you think you saw?"
"I know I saw a light. It's just hard to tell if it's our reflection or another's."
"Nothing is coming alongside us if that's what you're getting at."
"We just have each other's words is that what you're getting at?"
"I can keep quiet."
"If you want. I go on and on to relieve the nausea."
"Silence or speaking makes no difference to me. I feel discomfort all the same."
"That grimace on your face makes me imagine what must have been the expression on the face of the guard who following orders from the coordinator threw the person pretending to be a patient at the hospital out onto the street. It was also what he said what the coordinator said or maybe it was what the patient said as they lay in their gown on the curb. Something about if misery loves company then what does relief love? A good dump. These seats have something filthy on them."
"That would be us."
"It wants us to advance to the next chamber."
"What what number is that?"
"It says number 8."
"We've advanced to that one before."
"Then that wouldn't be advancing now would it?"
"No. I suppose not. It's as if our conveyance is chasing it's own tail."
"Or we are just chasing our own tails or looking for the carrot in the next chamber they shake inside our heads. What is that running down from the windows?"
"Some type of secretion to breakdown the buildup from the outside."
"How many? That's what I ask myself as I pretend to see stars in the dark of our windows as we pass along the way. I ask myself how many stars I see when I know that it's the sparks - the sparks of our own friction."
"How many? That's what I ask myself when I wonder how many stomachs we need to pass through as the universe digests us. That's all."
"That's all. Is that all you have to ask?"
"No. That's not all."
"What else do you have to ask?"
"What happened to your hair?"
The walls were dripping dripping with windows windows on murkier things along the way and the way was off topic as it so happened as it so-called passed them by without their seeing without their knowing without them. Hot compresses cooled and dried into scabs that took their time and everyone else's. Hot applications to front porches compressing burns and cuts swelling emergencies burning their messages against eyes closed into frozen dinners.
The way was off topic. The radio was left on while nothing came through clearly. The sound of static crinkling from the radio was like a cork had been pulled out and what was thought and what was thought and what was thought stuck to the lip the corkless mouth and its sound of static coming from the radio was like a cork had been pulled out and what was thought plausible and what was thought sustainable and what was thought enduring was escaping from the room not much room left for escaping through the butthole into the beyond protection beyond surge protection beyond explanation beyond explanations that had pissed them off far beyond any reason or response far beyond any simmering in a vat of bathos. Come come on let them come come on do they follow following on the rim beyond and on come come on let them come on do they follow following on the rim beyond and on come on escaping on from the room not much room left for escaping what was what was thought on come on what was what was thought on sustainable or plausible what was what was thought on had been pulled out with the cork from the radio static crinkling on static going on the way off topic ongoing.
- Max Stoltenberg
