שאול (pt. 3 - a strange interlude)

first spring snow sidewalks melt slick city songs rising up and out from every which-a-way medieval market day and then a something or other unexpected but not unsuspected a thing not wholly unknown but unknowed.

we knew each other as we knew ourselves which stands to reason in certain circles of understanding once when one considers that we went back about as far back as could be given conditions as they are and once were and had continued to be or so she says to me.

she says to me she had been writing lists of her failures making inventories of shortcomings documenting what she hated about herself as if she were the secretary of her own discontent.

i says to her i had spent the night smashing glass with the baseball bat that i had been given as a wedding gift the one with my name engraved really burned in to be more accurate which seemed appropriate given the state i was currently and had been for quite some time.

we sat and stared.

and then she says to me,
-i don't take care of myself there's nothing desirable about me i'm in love with the ones who treated me like shit i make bad decisions i make terrible decisions i can't seem to do anything to make my life better i don't use what little talent i have i'm secretly a disappointment to my family i have no close friends because i have nothing to offer anyone i'm pretentious i'm really fucking pretentious i hate my life i hate myself i have wasted my life doing nothing more than being a weak pathetic unfulfilled cunt and if i don't wake up in the morning i cannot imagine it would be a huge loss or a major loss or any sort of a loss at all.

so i says to her,
nothing at all because i was just sat there waiting and i was sat there wanting to tell her that we all feel like that at least us worth wanting but instead i was just sat there waiting was sat there wanting to tell her about her about the knife i've kept not because i don't have better because i certainly do but because i once held it to my wrist on a particular christmas when i myself wasn't being too particular about waking up in the morning but instead i was just sat there waiting.

so she says to me,
-i just want to have a fucking reason to exist a reason to get out of bed in the morning and not hate my life i just want to fucking matter

so i says to her,
-the worst part is not being able to tell whether you've managed to somehow climb out, or if instead you've fallen back in without noticing.

so she says to me,
nothing.

we sat and stared

so i says to her,
-want another beer?

and she says to me,
-might as well. i ain't got no reason to wake up tomorrow. if you will kindly remember.

and i says to her,
-i will remember. and kindly.

we drained our beers, cleared the empties, and took 'em out back along with the baseball bat where we spent the rest of the night smashing bottles into the clear night sky.

שאול (pt. 2)

nothing in life is stable
everything comes crashing down
try as hard as you like
everything falls apart

so as you lie in bed at night
wondering why you'd ever wake
remember there is no reason
everything falls apart

morality will not help you
religion will not help you
reason will not help you
everything falls apart

nothing you can do
will keep you from Sheol
only inertia keeps you moving
until everything falls apart

שאול (intermezzo)

This is my best friend, Blueberry. She's a hippo. She's not a real hippo. Ha! Real hippos aren't pink. Hippo is short for hippopotamus. Hippopotamus means river-horse. You know in what language? Me either it's all Greek to me! Ha! That's my favorite joke every time. I know so much about them because i saw the hippo show on t.v. They mostly live in Africa, but Blueberry's not real so she doesn't live in Africa. But she is my best friend for real. If she was a real hippo she wouldn't be my best friend. She might eat me. Ha! I saw a movie at school with some dancing hippos in dresses. It was silly specially because i know real hippos don't dance. Blueberry never dances even when i play her favorite song. She only just sits and listens quietly. If it's very late in the night sometimes she cries a little tiny bit but only because the lights are out and she thinks i can't see her crying but i don't make fun of her because sometimes i cry a little tiny bit late in the night too because the lights are out and i know she can't see me crying. When she cries i just hold her close and get my umbrella and open it over us and say to her in my quietest nighttime voice "it looks like you have rain drops on your face so i got my umbrella to keep us dry" and that's our favorite joke every time because we both know it can't rain inside. Ha!

שאול (pt. 1)

und ich wandte mich und sah an alles unrecht, das gefchah unter der Sonne.

(we feel we are nothing)
(we feel we are something)
(we know we are nothing)

franz biberkopf has reached the end of his mortal path.
the time has come to break him.
der mann ist kaput.

quo vado?

j'implore ta pitié, Toi, l'unique que j'aime,
du fond du gouffre obscur où mon coeur est tombé.
c'est un univers morne à l'horizon plombé,
où nagent dans la nuit l'horreur et le blasphème;

out of the depths i cry to you, oh Lord;
oh Lord, hear my voice.
let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.
i wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word i put my hope.
my soul waits for the Lord.

[part B]
the knife:
a sharp knife is a must.
your knife, more than any other piece of equipment in the kitchen, is an extension of the self, an expression of your skills, ability, experience, dreams, and desires... it can also be the most direct and glaring expression of your complete ineptness and uselessness. if you are incapable of demonstrating pride in your tools, you will richly deserve the deep and jagged wound you will undoubtedly inflict upon yourself.
the world would soon become a better place.
do i need to belabor this point?
you sin against the Gods.
it's that simple.

quo vadis?

los cien enamorados
duermen para siempre
bajo la tierra seca.
donde puse cien cruces,
que los recuerden.
los cien enamorados
duermen para siempre.

so that the word is the upright beam whereon I am crucified and the sound is that which crosseth it the nature of man and the nail which holdeth the cross-tree unto the upright in the midst thereof is the conversion and repentance of man.

where i am going, you cannot follow

come let us curse our Master ere we die
for all our hopes in endless ruin lie
the good is dead let us curse God most High
come then and curse the Lord over the earth
gross darkness falls and evil was our birth
and our few happy days of little worth
i wish i had some whisky and gun
my dear
i wish i had some whisky and gun

all dimpled cheeks and curls
Desire
your head it simply swirls
at the end
those girls
was a malady
those girls
or a madness
those lovely seaside girls
or both.

The Only True Object Of Study In Linguistics Is The Language...

*
i was gonna all with ireland and women loved from and to made a mark but then and shot and a stout and shot and a stout and back through the archives all the way back to 'and then i saw the snow' and rejection and then another sitting in parks snowstaring musichearing soulsaving and coffee shop sitting waiting for a girl to pass who will not pass hoping she would notice when she would not fantasizing that she would pass by she would notice me she would come inside she would sit at my table she would look at me she would see something good she would see something in and of me that is worth loving she would talk she would take my hand and she will as the camera pulls back the strings fade up the screen fades black.

but... prior to... a bus stop... some whiskeybreath... an underdog, an...

and so:

therefore:

there is a thing within us, some thing, a samething or not quite. this cannot be(,) a new depression i will fight and fight and fight must not be - a week and two days a vacation not long enough unacceptable none of the above none of the other only a what the hell how did i get here doing this a young people's game before the after of ideals and hopes and famedesire the afterfade that steps one step before resignments reassignments resignations sovereign states of settling nothing will come of this no legs for public sphere no rhythm no flow no poetry of a sort like the others the end of one more things not quite neverall that good to begin with like all else flash-in-pan idea hope desire only ways out that dead end but outways from what? why escapes and running and leavings?

what was so terrible to begin with?

'always something more' bullshit is what is. nothing more. only is. is est is.

and then they started to playing the jukebox and he walked up outta that bar never to return and out into a night he would never understand nor ever give up.

no way no how.

* the problem with is the backward nature such as the end of the last the 'so this is it this which is nor never was this which i know so well or so i know the was never not so quite so ever such like desire never so?' at an end when should be a begin for later be should not an end.

A/The Children's Play

don't go through that door cracked door old steel and wood slam shut any second with fingers toes chopped slam danger in there don't go, don't go through that door the other side anotherside broken scary world through that door.

but this side safe side a warmth and love side with me no other only us together this side without doors only tender loving we have balloons so many all for you and no other only you just for you just you.

i cannot keep or protect you like arms of jesus like arms i know armslike an ache sick for cuddle-up or curl no whisperbreath of tenderest tendresse i know so much i know so disbelief yet like that which i do nor do not know.

so this is it this which is nor never was this which i know so well or so i know the was never not so quite so ever such like desire never so?

This Day Full Of Promise And Potential

why were we scared so scared? why have we always been we born before time living after and inside something smaller than we, infinitely small so overwhelming pulling us inside uninspired while we plan our escape that won't ever really happen because we're too aware. this other people hasn't planned well enough clearly because, as you can clearly see, we is unprepared since the beginning to the end and back again. wandering inside the homestead, a kitchen back and forth and back and forth ah hell. same old thing. over and over. no shared paths just a one back and forth ah hell. scared at what? scared that there's nothing to be scared of? ah hell.

Swapping The Blood With Formaldehyde

-the one-two liquidium punch.

-the what? i asked.

-the curry whiskey clove pepper bang right in the middle of the middleface of all that ails and all that falls up tight too tight to begin with, he replied words slinging 'round the room. but now you're talking about some kind of whoashit - am i right i know i am.

-i'll take two.

-two? his eyes a-brow raised.

-one and half then if that's all that needs be done.

he slipped it me 'cross the agitated nervy tension edge, the kind that comes from love and sex of others too close to avoid and i swallowed it down nearly all but not quite nearly thinking on the days to come and the knowed needed relief i knowed i'd be needin'.

as i started to slipping into the inside i started to thinking back on dark night with face-a-flush inside the tension box remembering the just before sleep memories that come into the head as the head is emptying all else for a moment's peace, for some kind of release, and as the doubling back came into view i felt again the ache sick for a cuddle-up and a curl with whisperbreath of tenderest tendresse unknown, unfelt, le parapluie parfait doux. jesus don't you know that you coulda died, you shoulda died, but a quarter of a century after a fact of a life or a choice (depending on your slant) that leatherold question has changed still air hang heavy but changed for all intents charged intensely changed.

and then dim lighting flash silent thunder strike just this go-round not so dim not so silent so bright so loud teeth shake bone rattle crushing down into the innermost of insides a feeling that fades as if through pores unknown untested but with a question left...

-what's your preferences on thunder? he asked.

i, silent blinking unphrased,

-i'm not sure anymore.