READ PART ONE
TUNE: Pollen in the feedback.
WORD: Loop glue.
TUNE: Loopdiloo.
WORD: Ptooie.
T: Tui oooh Tu aaah.
W: Drop it wayyy down.
T: Oom bopshwa wom
FAN: Wow.
W: He said Wow.
T: Aahh sayayayaya sOooo mmmm.
W: Now (fade).
F: Are you onto something now?
W: No. I think we’re good.
SERVER BOT: No input required. I am already mixing you.
T: Excellent.
W: Elegant.
SERVER BOT: I have scanned your frequencies.
FAN: Can I change my order?
T & W: Shhh!
SB: No. But thank you for your honesty.
W: So what else are you a fan of, FAN?
F: Man. I don’t know. You know what? You know what I’m a fan of now? The effin WNBA man.
W: You don’t say.
SB: Your confections.
F: That was quick.
SB: This is my only table. TUNE, Three Dots and a Dash. Dictador Generations en Lalique Rum, honey syrup, fresh squeezed orange juice and lime, allspice dram, a clove garnish. Crushed ice. Victory.
T: I can hardly breathe.
SB: WORD, the Vesper Martini. Watenshi gin, Oval Swarovski Crystal vodka, and Lillet Blanc. Unlikely to cloud your judgement unless you drink it.
W: Uh…
SB: FAN, Fireball Cinnamon Whisky and Root Beer. Ice. to be drunk heartily.
F: Really?
SB: And truly.
F: Who programmed you?
SB: Who taught you to ask?
F: Ha! Good one… I don’t know. Someone must’ve.
SB: I was programmed to deflect.
F: Oh so we’re twins.
SB: Yes. Your ice is melting. Enjoy.
W: So you’re a fan of uh…
FAN: Yeah. Yeah. Did you see that takedown? Word, you should write about it. Have either of you heard of Sophie Cunningham?
TUNE: Uh uh.
W: I’ve heard of Sophie Tucker.
F: You will hear of her now. You know who Caitlyn Clark is.
T: Sure.
W: Yeah.
F: Yeah.
W: Yeah what?
F: You should have seen… Oh never mind. Word, I gotta ask you, have you ever written anything that you absolutely hate writing? I mean while you are writing it?
W: I’m having that feeling right now. It seems I’ve been sitting in this bar for three weeks with nothing on a loop.
*******************************************************
I don’t know, Ed. It’s summer. I went on vacation. Now I don’t even want to look at this. I’m a loser. I want to quit. I hate everything.
I just want to steal, Ed. I know. I’ll rewrite some Bukowski crap. I did it once before. It will be great. Look at the top of my toilet. Look at it! I read from it when I shit. He’s easy to steal from. I did it once before. Stole it. Changed it. Then slapped my hands together. I was a fricken genius.
Wait. What’s this on my toilet now?
adamb… That’s Blem Vide. Better than Bukowski. Can I steal from him? I probably can’t steal from him… but who would know? Open that first book randomly. Page 62. Type
thinking with my eyes closed
an acoustic version of a trainwreck
plays softly on the living room stereo
the Great Pyramid is a giant battery
lodged in the throat
raspberries are on fire
in an otherwise wet rowboat
Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. This post has gotten 300% better.
never give 100%
an old-school fool
with an arrested development
of his struggling little mind
tries to think his way out of
a potential accomplishment
Go buy one of his books.
of this we can be sure
this is exactly where we are
and we’ve come no further
As for Tune and Word, I’ll come back to it later, Ed. I promise. I have an idea how I want it to end. I just don’t want to write all that shit to get there. Now, to add length to this post I’ll type random shit.
shirtlessly we flapped in the wind
zoo not for otters but dance in their wingtips
forescored
long tempo ago
we bring you now
typings on a new page
from an old score long discarded
It follows matrilineally coded coprology
and sells you out to a dead beat 1-2-3
it foreshadowed its eclipsing - damn, it was fast
your phone might have got a better picture if you had actually really been there
you know it filled all the sky glowing and present.
oh well.
there will be no more taken abacks. none are anatomic. oh, you lost your nomic? you've all been issued your feathers. we'll know soon enough to be tired of soon. soon keeps loopin me noos and i'm done with noos. later will be your reward. reward your be will later. will it sure. thank living for you.
do strait plain writin. i'm sick of your clever a-lings. align things instead. take out your plane and englush us a straight line.
o a do la.
The bitch from bitchmandu and all the colorful adjectives one can throw up a cylinder mindscaping
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