I stand on the subway without holding onto the rail. Reading this bitchy ad about some guy breathing down the back of your neck. If you have short hair and look fit I'm gonna blow air behind your ear while you're not looking while you're standing by the bar waiting for the tender to acknowledge disorder. How does a passing dog know you're no threat? I don't have that instinct. I walk from the subway towards my employment. I feel a sharp pain in my left foot but don't think about it until I step seventy-two paces. I slip out my loafer and find a rock stuck to the foot pit. I take the abuse. I'm limber and agile. Daring and insecure only about auto-potency. Yes, I'm blowing you.
I feel encouraged by your drink order. Earlier I thought on the dusky stroll over: Is it breezy, or am I just drunk?
I order the lemon chicken sandwich in hopes that the protein will help my cold sore go away faster. The menu is extensive. If I were to walk into this establishment late at night high I would fret for an extended period of time deliberating on what I should order.
I guess my brain is melting (OK so I was going to just cut and paste some wikipedia shit here about brain decay or brain rot but then I was faced with the horrifying idea that the only people who google this shit up are 1) Erowid users 2) yahoo answers kids who are "losing their minds" at thirteen who need someone to reinforce the fact that yes this is life as it happens to you and yes it just keeps getting weirder and weirder as you die...) and I have been here before in this space and time.
. Day | Two
Ever since the last test they haven't demanded much of us. We stroll over grass. Sometimes they ask us "what's up" and "how ya doing" I believe just to keep us entertained and begging for something more. Kinda like that new movie release - sunday night special - twisted thriller - hang cliffer - continuity aspect to the whole thing that adds onto the experience. It makes ratings.
Consider DFW's experience reading White Noise. He def read it. Who will die first? Let's say we can prolong the end of this novel for so long that you will never cease to be. Will that drive you insane? And what he said, in several interviews (I believe Charlie Rose, excellent interviewer btw**) about how he reached that climatic peak early in his (literary/career-oriented/self-inflated/headwise-case/self-conscious/delusional/open-to-interpretation/is-this-guy-trippin-on-something/yes-indeed-he-is/kinda outta body weird experience) career and that he felt something, and it must have been similar to dying first, he was just waiting for others to finish up their shit. He got tired of waiting.
I keep thinking about what's next, rubbing some guy's head while thinking about her red-headed self. Wicked Witch is blaaaaaaring. What a great record in this context.
Still don't know what I'd do or what you would do. Can't imagine. You see it in front of you in the streets, you're on your way to your routine dedicated task, and you see it:
That thing. Whatever is on your mind, you dream about it. In front of you. Real like you never expected it. It shuts off before your pupils flick on.
he she bubbles fish, strange red fiery head, nostalgic reminiscent mindful playful kind cold sweet lovely green and pastury efficient engorged sensitive dry gin vermouth idyllic fear ye'know
**Bill O'Reilly and Charlie Rose were excellent. Tom Snyder and Larry King, not so much. I would put Nardwuar in the same category as big BO and CR #justsayin
