โ๐ธ๐ผ๐ฟ๐พ๐๐๐ธ๐ฑ๐ป๐ธ๐๐ผ
๐๐๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ . . .
โโโโโโโโโโโโ๏ผช๏ผฑ๏ผค
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโm.v.d.
โโโโโโโโ๐
(zero).
โ
None of it goes together.
Itโs not meant to.
Much of itโs old.
I wonโt market it as such.
Mismet.
๐.
๐ธ๐ผ๐ฟ๐พ๐๐๐ธ๐ฑ๐ป๐ธ๐๐ผ
An impassable sidewalk occluded my approach, the broader wave of ceaseless endless traffic massed-or-motoring along Hillhurst Avenue godforsaken early afternoon full-shine treeless-sun Here Down Among Us on แดแดสแดส, lowly-fallen creatures engaged in public movement, legged and carless, automobiles ourselves skirting the insult of advertisements and enticements to justification โ
SPEND ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฆ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ค๐ข๐ง๐ MONEY ๐จ๐ซ ๐ค๐๐๐ฉ ๐ข๐ญ MOVING ๐๐ฎ๐๐ค-๐๐๐๐ โ
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐,
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐,
โโโโโโโโโโโโ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐.
แดแดษดsแดแดแด, consume, แดแดษดsแดแดแด.
Right, so.
Iโd seen a man just last night starting little fires for what sure looked like fun, all-sprawled-out with a tiny sprayed-white chop-shop childrenโs bike heโs about four-sizes too-bigga human-being to be riding.
Youโd like to assume the best but youโd also like to see the thirty-some unit apartment building heโs leaning against remain standing-and-leanable โ thingโs rent-controlled, largely occupied by long-term immigrant tenants who arenโt affording this neighborhood again if some developer out thereโs unbottled the arson genie of his dreams.
A ๐ฝ๐๐ผ๐๐
CAN PUT YOU OUT ON YOUR ๐ผ๐๐
.
You a good neighbor, or no?
Gonna do something about it?
You โshould.โ
It would be โ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ซ๐๐๐ญโ to defend your honorable, friendly neighbors, bare lives unknowingly under-threat of zombified Prometheus out here incendiary, playing at fire in lost angelsโ matchstick-tinderbox burn-down world, where at any point you may become a part of some unknown blackening acreage, massed death at the flick of a cigarette or jitterbug fit โ you never know when you are going to ba-
ba-
burn to fucking duh-
death, ash-heaped; thatโs if the Earth Itself doesnโt halve to swallow you whole, or perhaps entrap you half in sand quick-as-can-be, stacked-up sandy, stench of rarer Earths filling your nostrils overwhelming you, bones break under the intensifying pressure of vengeful motherโs embrace, Gaia-squeeze, shriek of sirens real or imagined, real or imagined, an impassioned cry rises in you but your pulverized lungbellows are corseted in gathering materia, the agony is blink-brief but unending, you surrender to pain as your home slides down cliffside โ metaphorical or other.
๐๐๐๐ OR ๐ผ๐๐ด๐บ๐ผ๐๐ธ๐ท.
HELL โ
Iโm not that good a neighbor.
NO โ
Not trying to engage with twiztd_firestarter
.
But I watched for a bit, samaritanical, until satisfied that the idle firebug fits seemed merely amiss, a thing to remain contained to the piled assorted โ fuck is that, looks like junk mail? somebodyโs unwanted shit? โ heโd been torching.
A man hidden in palm fronds with a tiny bike starting fires.
Disrespect in the streets.
Set at each othersโ throats.
Truth is I want to kick the shit out of this guy for disrespecting me and everyone around me, but if I kicked the shit out of everyone who did that Iโd be doing nothing other than, Iโd be a house aโfire, tagged-in tornado, short-jabs and overhands all You!, and You!, and You!, and youโve got to figure that ends in harsh misfortune
, somehow, somewhere.
W๐ ๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ . . .
T๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐โ
I saw a manโs bare-ass and balls just yesterday, on a return walk home.
On the walk up Iโd spotted him seated with two Modelos slung low along a wall outside the long-vacant Chinese spot smoking meth out of a big glass bulb.
Deep and long
.
I had a parasympathetic reaction in my lungs and felt a chemical rise.
Wondered if he was on attackersโ meth or gigglersโ meth or ๅ0ๅฐบnใ ็ชeth or meth-and-?, or-or and โ
A bare-ass and balls, but I donโt know if he was shitting or jacking off or what, just getting cozy, or what, or what, or-or and-and โ
Streetsโve gotten strange so itโs best avert the gaze, square the shoulders or round the corner go-on getting the fuck on, every godโs dead on the left behind coast, even the screen dream, and the gutters are filled with scream queensโ slivered carvings and abandonment, ambitions and bitter almonds wafting gracefully to your deliverance โ Regency, Regency!
โ
โOh, poor pitiful you
,โ the invented jeerer taunts.
And I plead:
โWell what if I was disabled, were disabled? What if I am? What if I might be, could be? What if my disability is unformalized due to demedicalization, because self-employment in the Late United States is aโโ
And it grows tiresome.
โโโas for the
BULBSMOKER:
He was flagrant in his use, Smoking Felonious with doubled foamy bottles.
As a degenerate I was appalled at the sloppiness of the visibility.
This strongly implied what we shall charitably call a lack of long-term thinking, which does have a way of calling a personโs values into question, and itโs a cracked calculus got you wondering at projectiles and their trajectories, shattering objects glistening crunch underfoot, or-or-or and-and โ
I can recall upon good friend Eonโs visitation the eruption of a fusillade of 40s and 12s battering the patio of the hand-roll sushi joint.
Bottle battery.
Th
aaat
โs ๐ป๐๐๐๐ฆ๐ค๐๐๐.
The wordless screams that accompanied, from the man who lived, as he could, behind the thrift store, a thrift store now so-done-up in wire
-and-๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ as to appear downright carceral, a once-fun place now given-over to grim blackclad official-ish โ
โโโโโ(
official-๐๐ โness is
๐๐๐๐ฉ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ญ๐ ๐๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐๐ง โ
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐)
security guards, imposing security cameras, flood
-lights โ a guard tower wouldnโt be out of place, but youโd probably need 5 years of committee meetings to get it built in this city โ the whole bit!
Clamped down jaws.
I hate this new world.
Offered without apology.
A cowardly paradise.
๐๐.
๐ด๐ฟ๐ธ
The ritual re-enactment of predetermined successes.
Repulsively veiled acts of corrupt nepotism.
. . .
When we all get to Hell,
and soon
,
we shall clutch the akashic records in our talons,
and Read Out the Names.
. . .
You know who you are.
. . .
Hey buddy, hey buddy.
. . .
[coughs violently]
[coughs violently]
[coughs violently]
. . .
Youโs ever heardโa Theatre of Menace?
. . .
Invent a scold:
โOh theatre weโre a sophisticate now huh,โ
. . .
Well!
Itโs a cartoon youโre watching.
Youโre making it.
. . .
. . .
. . .
ENDS:
โ๐ผ ๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ข.โ โ สแดแด
โโโแดสแดแด ษชแดแดกโ๏ธแดสแดแด ษชแดแดกโ๏ธแดสแดแด ษชแดแดกโ๏ธ
๐๐๐.
๐ผ๐ด๐๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด ๐ธ๐ฝ ๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐พ๐๐๐ป๐ด (
๐
๐ธ๐๐๐ฐ๐ป ๐ท๐๐ฟ๐ด ๐๐ด๐ด๐ป)
It has come to my attention that no great literary works have been produced on the subject of whales.
As such, I have undertaken the development of a new narrative regarding a captive cetacean intelligence with whom a team of marine scientists covertly establishes interspecies contact, exchanging messages with the below-beyond . . .
Dr. Hart Leeward and his crew gather intelligence, chattily befriending the behemoth megafaun, whose heady and considerate responses provide ample proof of the Whale as a Non-Human Person.
Allโs well until the Whale begins asking questions back โ questions with answers, answers which call for vengeance . . .
โMessage in a Bottle,โ
๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐.
โโโโโโโโโ๐
๐๐.
๐๐๐ป๐บ๐ธ๐ฝ๐ถ ๐๐ด๐
(
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐)
A brittle-book as-yet unburnt.
Haz-matโs the same as that.
Pages unturned.
Have-nots and battle-axes.
And a bell-freed bat.
Libertine.
You donโt need a hook when you look like that.
An excuse to induce states.
Liquidated.
๐.
๐ผ๐ ๐ผ๐พ๐๐ ๐ท๐ฐ๐๐ด๐ณ ๐ฟ๐พ๐๐๐ด๐๐๐ธ๐พ๐ฝ
Where is my minder?
Relinquish the leash.
Sweats.
Dreams of vermin.
Collected, crawling.
Swarming.
Hivening.
Every day itโs 15 little heart-attacks.
Wondering where that fucking phone is at.
Some forgotten pocket.
Lodged.
The conjuring of absent spirits.
As a worm would.
A worldโs tournament.
Turnabout.
Tilt-a-whirl.
A fare to play.
Unfair tent-stakes.
โโโโโโโ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐ก
๐๐๐๐๐๐ค๐๐๐ . ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐ก
๐๐๐๐๐๐ค๐๐๐ . ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐ก
๐๐๐๐๐๐ค๐๐๐ .
โโโโโโโโโโโโโ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐.
โโโโโ๐ป๐๐๐๐๐๐ -๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก ๐
๐ก๐๐ข๐๐-๐ข๐. Ssss๐ก๐๐ข๐๐-๐ข๐. Ssss๐ก๐๐ข๐๐-๐ข๐.
๐๐.
๐ฐ ๐ท๐ฐ๐๐บ ๐ธ๐ ๐ผ๐ ๐ต๐ฐ๐๐ท๐ด๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐
(
๐ผ๐๐๐ ๐ต๐๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐๐๐)
Was โearly Pandemic.โ
Tired of speaking this way.
But the streets were empty.
Clear-sky see-all.
Pindrop perfect.
And then, prey:
A tuffet of tail, sidewalk-skittering.
A little fox squirrel.
Out crittering.
And soon, a shadowโs broadening hover.
Hoof and tooth and claw.
Itโs over.
Life is here now, to teach you a lesson.
Hawk-scryed sited swooped and swept.
Silent.
The rodent chirped for uncoming help.
Sent-up to heaven.
In the clutch of a great feathered lizard.
And downward, now.
๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐:
I saw the bird wind-up.
Whipped its cargo passenger tail-end end-on-end tumble-down.
And at the pit of its plunge, unearthly splatter.
Beyond onomatopoeia.
Undersold by thudder splat smack, any-or-all crash.
Thing went off like a god-damn bomb.
Business ended, the hawk flew to the highest available perch, mounting red-tiled romantic Spanish clay.
Made direct eye contact with me.
A casual scan.
Looked to the dog at the end of my lead.
We understood, and made our way down the road.
๐๐๐.
ุฃูุช ููุจูู.
Unaccountable evils accounted for by evil accountants.
Circular fire.
Beans counted.
Stocks sprouted.
Get up.
Climb up.
Or cloud doubtful.
๐๐๐๐.
๐ด๐ป๐ธ๐๐ด
Elate me delete me fellate me fall freely.
Germinal velocity.
Without a cold to war against.
Without a wage to worry chest.
Cards kept close to breast, close at hand.
Sorrowโs arrow shot.
Gone.
๐๐.
๐๐ด๐๐ด๐ผ๐ฑ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ด ๐ฐ๐๐๐ด๐ผ๐ฑ๐ป๐
โBrian Wilson arc,โ my image no longer corresponds with my actuality.
โHello Alain,โ sheโd said.
Slyly implying Delon.
Checking my recognition.
I am the clean, smooth-faced, mannish depressive boy, manic pixel nightmare boy, machine-gunner, I could play a high school junior or a hollow-eyed 45. I shouldnโt, but I could. Iโm a shapeshifter. Iโm confusing. Iโm confused. Iโm aroused, Iโm amused. Iโve caroused with a few, shattered curfews. Surfed the surfeit, no R.S.V.P., they let me walk in for free.
In the back, front, or sideways.
Regularly, like crime pays.
Like, crime pays.
Notebooks veering illegible stacked or scattered.
Mugs and cups. Disorder. Bored moods, off-meds, drone predator.
I avoid mirrors altogether.
I donโt want to know.
Iโve stopped checking the mail, so to speak.
I stopped checking the mail, literally.
Years ago.
What good could come of it?
What am I going to get?
A gift?
But Iโll nab it, in batches, sometimes.
In hopes of a check.
Unrealityโs arrival.
Instead: realtors, scams, and other redundancies.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโpresented in
โโโโโโโโโโโโโFRAGMENTED REALITY
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโa subsidiary of
โโโโโโ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโInevitability โ Delivered.โ
I AM A DEPLETED CHARACTER. โโโโโIT IS OK. โโโโโTHANK YOU.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโSELECT ME?
โโโโโโโ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ . . .
๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ / a / k / a
๏ผช๏ผฑ๏ผค is a self-taught integrated media company founded haunted and enchanted in ๐ป๐พ๐๐ ๐ด๐๐พ๐, ๐ฒ๐ฐ.
โThank you . . .
Thank you.โ