You Torture Language

You torture language. You
make words go in wrong and
feel bad coming out; this
is your belief, your taun-
ting relentless insane
method.

You think what we speak is
not good enough but should
be cattle shocked into
non-compliance with it-
self, what?

This is your tongue you spank
with po-folk provoked blips
in syntax, blaming those
innocent on your plain
pleasure.

And when we're together,
why you dogging me? As
if we'd never done no-
thing that didn't involve
a single word between
us, chile.

MARBLED RENT

They say I have to get off my thighs and
back to doing mortal things if I want my
present body to last into the next mil-
enium, continued Pegyuh. But that ex-
ercise for its own sake just doesn't last,
can we finally be real? There must be
deep biological reasons for our movements,
because there are serious physical risks
to dry humping life on a treadmill.

So I try to do things around at the
palace. I take the square, multi-colored
satin pillows with a satin button of the
same color in the middle off of one
airport-scale chesterfield chaise, beat
them rigorously, and return them to
some alternate window seat, breakfast
nook or bear rug in another always
just-breaking view of the property.
The nice thing about the residential
buildings is the stone-heated floors.
Before, crumbs would mar my counter-
top. No one had been friend enough to
just pulled me aside and said, "appliance
garage." To say the least, my kitchen n-
ow appears to be a granite tomb.

Last Radioed Transmission

"Pippi! LaLa! M'Lady! Come!

These dogs and this wind is enough-- and then blowing along in it we have the ravages of the soil taken to air to scold us and our faces. Farmers sell water, and the cement goes dry. Babies breathe like miners. The lotion just makes a sludge on your skin. The water leaves a paste. The dogs are having seizures in here. Where is the Western Union? Navy Air? What? Wait... No!"

Eaters Feeding

It was always nice to be pretty, yes, but a man might be like, "Yes, okay, you are fine, love-- but I am getting what I really need right here from this business,' pointing at your anatomy. 'Now do you mind? I'm kind of busy here.' Like that. Then I'd just be... [look up in air while thrusting pelvis]. Never would take my boots off though.

map 1.9  2008/06/03 22:54:33 38.836N 122.809W  2.4    4 km ( 3 mi) N   of The Geysers, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 22:49:48 33.038N 115.558W 14.2    6 km ( 4 mi) E   of Westmorland, CA
map 0.9  2008/06/03 22:43:01 38.815N 122.808W  3.5    2 km ( 1 mi) N   of The Geysers, CA
map 1.5  2008/06/03 21:46:23 37.738N 117.811W  0.0   31 km (19 mi) SW  of Weepah, NV
map 2.2  2008/06/03 21:30:19 33.015N 115.558W 11.7    5 km ( 3 mi) NNW of Brawley, CA
map 2.2  2008/06/03 20:46:37 36.273N 120.252W  3.6   16 km (10 mi) WNW of Huron, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 20:37:27 32.677N 115.957W  8.1    8 km ( 5 mi) SSE of Ocotillo, CA
map 2.0  2008/06/03 20:22:54 36.244N 120.360W 10.8   11 km ( 7 mi) N   of Coalinga, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 20:22:04 38.791N 122.771W  4.3    3 km ( 2 mi) ESE of The Geysers, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 20:00:43 39.550N 119.939W  4.0    4 km ( 3 mi) NNE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.6  2008/06/03 19:52:34 32.679N 115.974W  4.9    7 km ( 4 mi) SSE of Ocotillo, CA
MAP 3.9  2008/06/03 19:29:04 38.243N 122.181W 10.8    2 km ( 1 mi) SW  of Green Valley, CA
map 0.9  2008/06/03 19:25:21 38.819N 122.798W  4.3    2 km ( 2 mi) NNE of The Geysers, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 19:05:18 39.550N 119.939W  4.0    4 km ( 3 mi) NNE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.6  2008/06/03 18:58:35 41.244N 114.831W  8.0   19 km (12 mi) NE  of Wells, NV
map 1.6  2008/06/03 18:51:11 39.550N 119.939W  4.0    4 km ( 3 mi) NNE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.1  2008/06/03 18:45:35 39.550N 119.939W  4.0    4 km ( 3 mi) NNE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.4  2008/06/03 18:26:21 32.763N 115.563W 12.9    3 km ( 2 mi) S   of El Centro, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 18:12:07 33.640N 117.919W  7.5    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of Costa Mesa, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 17:58:16 33.889N 116.065W  8.7   24 km (15 mi) NE  of Indio, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 17:45:07 34.220N 117.130W  0.1    2 km ( 2 mi) NW  of Running Springs, CA
map 2.4  2008/06/03 17:40:20 35.842N 120.385W  4.4    8 km ( 5 mi) SSE of Parkfield, CA
map 1.1  2008/06/03 17:28:41 33.708N 116.727W 21.6    4 km ( 3 mi) SSW of Idyllwild, CA
map 1.2  2008/06/03 17:18:08 38.777N 122.718W  1.8    2 km ( 1 mi) W   of Anderson Springs, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 17:06:03 33.046N 115.560W 18.4    6 km ( 4 mi) E   of Westmorland, CA
map 1.8  2008/06/03 16:53:09 33.022N 115.546W 12.6    5 km ( 3 mi) N   of Brawley, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 16:41:16 39.550N 119.939W  4.0    4 km ( 3 mi) NNE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.6  2008/06/03 16:25:24 33.374N 117.588W  0.1    8 km ( 5 mi) SSE of San Clemente, CA
map 1.2  2008/06/03 16:13:01 33.691N 116.724W 19.9    6 km ( 4 mi) S   of Idyllwild, CA
map 1.0  2008/06/03 16:09:33 33.598N 116.668W 19.5    5 km ( 3 mi) N   of Anza, CA
map 1.8  2008/06/03 16:08:41 33.109N 117.836W  6.6   42 km (26 mi) SSW of San Clemente, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 16:08:00 34.333N 116.773W  5.8   10 km ( 6 mi) NE  of Big Bear City, CA
MAP 3.1  2008/06/03 16:06:32 33.668N 116.724W 14.7    9 km ( 5 mi) S   of Idyllwild, CA
map 1.1  2008/06/03 16:00:49 33.683N 116.719W 15.1    7 km ( 4 mi) S   of Idyllwild, CA
map 2.4  2008/06/03 15:59:48 35.702N 121.048W  6.7   14 km ( 9 mi) ENE of San Simeon, CA
map 0.8  2008/06/03 15:55:04 39.550N 119.939W  0.0    4 km ( 3 mi) NNE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.5  2008/06/03 15:54:43 33.025N 115.547W 20.8    5 km ( 3 mi) N   of Brawley, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 13:53:18 33.043N 115.562W 15.9    6 km ( 3 mi) E   of Westmorland, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 13:50:06 39.569N 119.965W  2.0    6 km ( 4 mi) N   of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.1  2008/06/03 13:49:00 38.826N 122.810W  2.1    3 km ( 2 mi) N   of The Geysers, CA
map 1.9  2008/06/03 13:39:30 33.795N 117.836W 13.7    1 km ( 1 mi) SSW of Orange, CA
map 0.6  2008/06/03 13:34:32 38.746N 122.900W  4.0   10 km ( 6 mi) SW  of The Geysers, CA
map 1.4  2008/06/03 13:12:46 33.021N 116.259W  8.7   18 km (11 mi) SW  of Ocotillo Wells, CA
map 2.5  2008/06/03 12:55:49 37.413N 121.763W  6.7    7 km ( 5 mi) NE  of Alum Rock, CA
map 2.6  2008/06/03 12:45:38 33.029N 117.368W 15.0    9 km ( 6 mi) W   of Encinitas, CA
map 0.7  2008/06/03 12:38:38 38.768N 122.770W 16.4    5 km ( 3 mi) SE  of The Geysers, CA
map 2.1  2008/06/03 12:11:20 38.825N 122.802W  2.9    3 km ( 2 mi) N   of The Geysers, CA
map 2.6  2008/06/03 12:01:21 37.353N 119.781W 19.7   12 km ( 7 mi) WNW of Oakhurst, CA
map 0.8  2008/06/03 11:13:20 38.820N 122.814W  3.1    2 km ( 2 mi) NNW of The Geysers, CA
map 1.9  2008/06/03 10:59:03 32.452N 116.417W  9.0   24 km (15 mi) ESE of Tecate, Baja California, Mexico
map 1.5  2008/06/03 10:56:16 33.375N 116.432W 27.2   15 km (10 mi) NNW of Borrego Springs, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 10:22:34 37.538N 118.864W  6.8   15 km ( 9 mi) SE  of Mammoth Lakes, CA
map 1.8  2008/06/03 10:10:35 32.977N 115.630W 14.0    7 km ( 4 mi) S   of Westmorland, CA
map 0.6  2008/06/03 10:09:29 38.839N 122.832W  2.3    5 km ( 3 mi) NNW of The Geysers, CA
map 1.0  2008/06/03 09:07:41 33.718N 116.672W 13.5    5 km ( 3 mi) SE  of Idyllwild, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 09:01:31 33.020N 115.568W 12.7    5 km ( 3 mi) ESE of Westmorland, CA
map 2.3  2008/06/03 08:56:27 32.752N 115.576W 13.0    4 km ( 3 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 1.0  2008/06/03 08:56:04 38.914N 122.888W  0.1    8 km ( 5 mi) SW  of Kelseyville, CA
map 2.2  2008/06/03 08:47:47 33.030N 115.555W 13.0    6 km ( 4 mi) NNW of Brawley, CA
map 2.8  2008/06/03 08:41:32 32.763N 115.572W 11.5    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 1.9  2008/06/03 08:40:19 38.752N 122.731W  1.5    4 km ( 3 mi) SW  of Anderson Springs, CA
map 2.8  2008/06/03 08:33:46 32.763N 115.574W  2.9    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 2.8  2008/06/03 08:16:40 33.043N 115.569W 14.5    5 km ( 3 mi) E   of Westmorland, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 08:12:57 34.308N 116.969W  6.1    9 km ( 6 mi) NW  of town of Big Bear Lake, CA
map 2.0  2008/06/03 07:59:54 34.855N 116.389W 10.1   26 km (16 mi) NW  of Ludlow, CA
map 1.1  2008/06/03 07:18:11 33.657N 116.716W 17.0   10 km ( 6 mi) S   of Idyllwild, CA
map 1.1  2008/06/03 06:54:21 39.530N 119.912W  0.0    4 km ( 3 mi) ENE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 0.9  2008/06/03 06:47:04 38.825N 122.791W  7.9    3 km ( 2 mi) NNE of The Geysers, CA
map 1.0  2008/06/03 06:40:44 34.060N 117.873W 10.4    4 km ( 2 mi) S   of Covina, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 06:38:36 32.763N 115.575W 15.0    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 1.6  2008/06/03 06:24:43 32.758N 115.568W 14.8    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 0.3  2008/06/03 06:22:19 33.028N 115.549W  5.8    6 km ( 4 mi) NNW of Brawley, CA
map 1.5  2008/06/03 06:21:54 32.761N 115.578W 15.0    4 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 06:21:48 32.786N 115.577W 11.2    2 km ( 1 mi) W   of El Centro, CA
map 2.1  2008/06/03 06:14:30 32.789N 115.579W 12.0    2 km ( 1 mi) W   of El Centro, CA
map 2.2  2008/06/03 06:13:23 32.778N 115.580W 14.9    2 km ( 1 mi) WSW of El Centro, CA
MAP 3.0  2008/06/03 05:51:45 32.750N 115.570W 15.4    4 km ( 3 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 2.6  2008/06/03 05:50:04 32.763N 115.570W 11.5    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 05:45:49 32.789N 115.575W 12.5    2 km ( 1 mi) W   of El Centro, CA
map 2.3  2008/06/03 05:42:15 32.767N 115.578W 12.4    3 km ( 2 mi) SW  of El Centro, CA
map 2.5  2008/06/03 05:40:29 32.750N 115.575W 14.8    5 km ( 3 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 2.6  2008/06/03 05:39:19 32.756N 115.573W 13.5    4 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 0.9  2008/06/03 05:32:05 38.832N 122.804W  2.2    4 km ( 2 mi) N   of The Geysers, CA
map 2.1  2008/06/03 05:30:52 37.300N 121.674W  6.2   15 km ( 9 mi) E   of Seven Trees, CA
map 1.5  2008/06/03 05:26:39 33.146N 116.615W 15.0    9 km ( 5 mi) NNW of Julian, CA
map 1.7  2008/06/03 05:23:29 37.423N 118.615W 10.1    2 km ( 1 mi) WNW of Round Valley, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 05:23:27 33.995N 117.197W 15.2    7 km ( 4 mi) SSW of Redlands, CA
map 1.1  2008/06/03 05:16:11 33.501N 116.570W 10.6   11 km ( 7 mi) ESE of Anza, CA
map 2.2  2008/06/03 05:08:34 39.523N 119.922W  1.6    3 km ( 2 mi) ENE of Verdi-Mogul, NV
map 1.8  2008/06/03 05:04:23 32.765N 115.575W 16.4    3 km ( 2 mi) SSW of El Centro, CA
map 1.0  2008/06/03 05:01:19 33.498N 116.474W 16.1   19 km (12 mi) ESE of Anza, CA
map 1.3  2008/06/03 04:56:05 37.314N 121.602W  8.3   21 km (13 mi) ESE of Alum Rock, CA

Swarm of Eaters

Chamatilly, a topless and comely African-American woman, 35, bowed from the waist and allowed the tip of her tongue to dab at the inscribed shivplate wafer sewn into the bottom hem of her skirt. When she stood up, all of her thoughts were gone.

She began to chant:

?u-bri' nitu' uhznao'? u-bri' nitu' uhznao'? u-bri' nitu' uhznao'?

She was practicing for Swarm of Eaters. Nearly her entire left side was covered with a dense forest of SOE scars. She had stepped up to the box, paid her tithe, and submitted to the ravenous creatures in the tiny, decoratively-shaped openings three hundred and eighty-eight times now, voluntarily.

I Want to Feel Giddy and Free

I want to feel giddy and
free, though I am the
Mother of all Races.
What can behold of me
ventriloquistically and
with every emotion
a pantheon of faces?

Over to Kypes'

Kype's mom had just a sec before she had to leave for work, so she grabbed a glossy magazine and an ashtray and sat down on the couch hunched over the coffee table in her Pink Skirt, hose out of shoes and a quilted bra.

[photo]
"I'm jist ginna... git out there an give it... one damn try more..."

Illyn Jones, emerging on crutches from Mthyuh of All Miracles hospital this afternoon. Jones swore he was already on his way back up to deepend the same mosh pit which everyone could have sworn had been his Final Eater now these four days ago.

Miss History Moment
Sponsored by PharmSupply

Peggy had taken on the cause of pimping out models to the American public via the pharmaceutical industry. Top powderpromies could pull down many shiny coins per week. For example they could play a beautiful Drip-Dry Maiden who'd made the Lifestyle Mistake of spreading herpes everywhere, some poor kid who wants to make it all right again by licking for-profit shivplate every day for the rest of her life, which had just recently become endless, at a cost, thanks to PHARM-SUPPLY.

Then a friend hears about her plight. To make her feel better, the friend says, "Heck, I should really be licking this too. That way I'll never have to live YOUR sad life. Why doesn't everyone start to lick Pending? Then no one will ever git H."

"If you don't leck it, you're no bitter than a Sexual Lipper," agrees the friend.

Pending. A man has a girl to watch after him; a girl has to watch out for her man and for herself. Take Pending every day. Because a woman has to watch out for herself. Bottom line baby.

"So you see, Hoolie: if it is discovered ignorantly, it is discovered truly. If it is an imitation of life, you sermonize. Imitation of Christ, you politicize. If it is discovered falsely, you are not making music. You are playing the guitar."

Hoolie dreamed he was over at Kype's mom's who was always on her way to work, putting on makeup.

She had Pale German skin and her hairs all wisped up. All thems at Kype's smoked. A lot. All pale with Pall Malls and pink lips, pink tablecloths; everything there seemed organic, Pink, and Fleshy. And it seemed to be necessary for everyone to drain the soft white tobacco tubes to keep it going.

Hoolie got drunk over there for the first time and made a joke of standing up his lit cigarette in the Middle of a Pizza they'd been eating like a birthday candle. Everyone just laughed and looked at Hoolie lovingly, even though it was so stupid he did that. Also, they could have been mad that they'd paid the pizza, and a large family at that with so many mouths sucking.

Then they went out and jammed in the garage. Their eyes seemed to roll back in their heads, Kype's brothers when they stroked. Chords filled the room everywhere, free of drums. All three boys in that family had classic GTO's with fresh paint and clean original leather.

Hoolie dreamed he was sitting at Kype's alone at the kitchen table and a Pink Worm started growing out his adam's apple like a fleshy condom swelling. When Hoolie woke up, he was under a fuzzy thermal blanket in a bed over to Kype's. He was finding it a little hard to breathe, however, because there was a fat pink worm feeding at his throat.

Public Oracle Dispenser

Ted's elbows and knuckles ached, as if he had been walking on them all day. It might be more comfortable than his current evolutionary and work-related debt to holding up the lower back as a pain-prevention measure. At times Ted felt as though the regrets of an entire species rested on his own four shoulders. Here he was on his ass on a stone because all of the things he now loved now had access to now defaulted through comfort, distraction, obsession, path of least resistance to being seated on this stone before a pod (public oracle dispenser). Night and day. No difference.

Ted wanted to be out on the trail with the pups hunting bear or tagging rocks and chank faces with Isohere. They could camp out and wake to a dizzying cliffside spectacle of Pink Morning Sky, but Vertical. Strong, soaring, wide-winged blue-green and purple, long-beaked, scary birds looked like they were armored in Metallic Feathers. Had become common now. See them gliding by, upside-down on their own private airstream jetty.

Destruction of Wealth

Once every hundred years there was a festival called Destruction of Wealth where all the rich would have to come and stand outside their caves and all the surrounding peasants and pissants would get to walk right past their stuck-up cousins, loot their houses, and spit at them on their way out.

The spitting became more and more polite over the centuries as the rich cousins devised more and better ways to reap vengeance on the poor cousins during all the other 99 years if they looted too much or spat too bitterly.

Eventually, Destruction of Wealth became a national Centennial of Charity. The rich cousins would lock up their garages and daughters and best animals and put out big bowls of punch and large plates of graham crackers for the poor cousins, who wore their very best clothes to the event, clothes they had to borrow money from the rich cousins in one town to purchase at the stores of other rich cousins in another town.

The poor cousins entered the homes of the rich cousins, most of whom had made a point to be abroad, leaving mildly attentive servants and security personnel in their places. The poor cousins ate as much as they could and went home quietly, wondering how their families would survive, void of all charity, across decade after promiseless decade ahead.

Then it was suggested that reparations be paid. There would be a fund set up to honor the sacrifices of the rich cousins during all previous Destructions of Wealth. Prayer and self-floggings were to be general across the land. Some poor cousins went hungry for generations as a result of the compulsory tithing.

Finally, the poor cousins snapped. They rushed the guards at all the grand caverns of their wealthy but distant relatives. They looted their cement and pharmaceuticals, forcefully kissed their daughters. When they had eaten all the delicacies and drunk all the finest beverages their stomachs could hold and filled their arms and their pockets and their asses with all the valuables they could carry, they left, spitting upon the rich cousins, who could only stoop cowering at their own doorsteps.

As the poor cousins made their way back home to their blighted villages, laden no longer with care but rather with new found wealth and happiness, they felt forgiving, a little contrite, and could only imagine a brighter tomorrow for all the family.

Swamp Rascal

Mike crept through the high grasses and foam of dry salt cedar sheddings. Even the brutalest foul prongs of Nature seemed fair, while with man one wanted Payback. He kicked at beer cans and charred camp drudge. No surfers here. They hung out in the sand and looked out at the sand these kids. Surfing the tailgates on their pickups. Corncob bonfire shindigs after dark. This all would be flooded soon. Just big dragonflies and crocs. Bubbling mudtowers.

Wonderful Moment

What a wonderful moment to lay hatred bare,
Pried squealing from her dank hulking steerage,
Slithering red-tongued spirit.
These devils only wail for goodness.
They are babes unweaned is their furor.

Duhbabera Chank

http://www.dtman.com/covert/images/bh2/needles_sm.jpg

Dhubbabera

We sat at the crux of the
Chank called Dhubbabera.
It was two birds flipping upward
At the same chile time.

Chalk Chank [the Mp3]

Chalk Chank

Chalk Chank

It was at Chalk Chank
Where I felt the first dank
Shock of the vagina.

There was a mattress there
In a spot called We Don't Care
Sipping at some wine like snobs.

It was the bravest step made
Since the night we pierced our eggs
Back in history.

It was our only creative act
Including starting a fresh batch
Years later on our shag carpet stairway.

Seven Over

Sylvia felt almost the same whether she was in her car or on foot. It was just a difference between pedal pushing and weight shifting, really using one foot or two. Shells of cloth, leather, metal. Her spring lifts gave her the same buoyancy as the shock absorbers in her hooptie. She dreamed of bouncing all the way to San Diego along the Hard Trampoline Highway. She soared upward, seven yards over the limit. There was Ted hitting climax at about the same time, the Valley stretching out beneath them like a Dirty White Vinyl Bible. They shared weightlessness for just a sec. They continued as such until splashdown in the Pacific. They bobbed alongside steamers and pleasure craft, were dwarfed by the wreck of the USS Ronald Reagan, sipped Seven and Sevens from straws in tall, frosty stones.

Ten Fingers, One Price

iiiivvvx. Bunch of Tangy Ravishes

You still know your name. You sit and stare at the gaping craw of the TV: a giant fingernail with a scene of men chopping something in a meadow painstakingly manicured onto it pokes at and tickles a magnified "heart-dingle" earring like a uvula. Bunches only. Add a stuffed toy.

At What Cost?

IIXVI. ValveBox

Pain of resistance to muscular hackrights installations. Gets you amped up with glee by degrees. How do you want it? You are an emotion's palette. They paint you and you are developed. Developed by scientists at Pharm-Supply's seasonal headquarters in Pippi for use especially in conjunction with industrial gaming interfacial systems and state-sponsored Muscle Logic Dispensers (MLD's). Allows up to three glee degrees of resistance to muscular hackrights installation before dejective surrender and death. Not recommended for pain control during Remote Tissue Decisioning (RTD) sessions or debugging.

New Economy

Hoolie and Kype worked at the plant, plus a lot of overtime. They were more hours of the day than not covered with a fine grey powder of cemen-T, a byproduct of any pharmaceutical mining, processing, or packaging in those times. Kype gave Hoolie a lot of good advice. One time he told him to go and brush his teeth in the drinking fountain. Another time Kype told Hoolie to stop wearing underwear and also stop shaking his dick after he went to the kibo-flimp. Finally, he suggested that Hoolie take LSD, wear tight bellbottoms and shake his ass really hard main floor throughout a Foghat concert.

At break time they'd stop over at the White Hen Pantry for some food chunks or tobacco. They'd break nuts on the big stone for customers behind the ATM or walk back reminiscing about young life crawling through the chanks. Never knew what the next village was doing, especially during clusters. Chang K. Chang Chank was the "fordamall" chank (40 miles long).

They got the idea for the show from a Discover Channel doc-uality about the reanimation of flesh that was already or still animate. It turned out to be easier than to animate dead flesh.

So before long they were entertainment industry execs, and with their laptops they would force contestants to swing each other by the hair and throw one and the other against walls, etc. These folks were volunteers, and they were hard up, but it was painful for them, and it showed on their faces. Emotionally. We couldn't give them ValveBox because the muscles were not responsive beyond 5 steps of glee. So what most people watched as the show evolved was the tortured expressions in the players' countenances. One episode had both participants dressed as Joan Crawford. They seemed to be utterly humiliated and were almost killed. They wept as they were carried out, mascara smearing. They were also called contractees, associates, partners, members, guests, collaborators, stars, models, frontliners, foot soldiers, salt and pepper, caca, ganado, joiners.

Kype had a beak head and deep-blue feathers. He could lay his spectacles flat across his eyes, which had to look down to see straight ahead. He let a beat strike, and then turned his toucan-like nose toward his friend and mentee.

Hoolie. What's happening to us.

Stay Naked and Live (There are Plenty of Sunscreens and Prophylactic Medications)

So you see, Hoolie, do you remember when those classmates of yours went and shot up those cops in Texarcana? That one who'd set his denim bellbottoms on fire in the woods outside the high school? Everything was about Back to Nature then. Now it's try this weird thing: nature. Nature is the new Chia Pet. All-night party in an unfinished basement, filth everywhere. You thought you were throwing up blood, but it was some cop-killer's daddy's Martini and Rossi "Red." Say yeahs. You had to stumble home through the woods and 16 inches of heavy wet snow with a hard cap at first, first light in the Great Lakes Region, a light without a color. He had lit himself on fire down there, too. The arm of his sleevey jacket. The Black folks were even more uppity in Chicago then, running riot all over the CTA, all the white folks with their heads hanging not daring to meet the eye of a Black man. Point is, you can't wear a camouflage barrette in your hair these days much less a stainless steel Afro pick.

Stay naked. All summer. Order groceries on the Internet and get out the Daffy Duck and Tweetie Bird beach towels for the furniture. This is what your mother would have wanted.

Night you could sleep or be conscious in

This is a night that would bear
Hard slumber or consciousness,
This hang of six-hour heat
Lifting off in fine rosettes.

This chill unexact wakens,
This ending attenuate,
Hours misappropriate from
Colleagues and co-worshipers.

Mark me now, and not at the
Iced tip of an evening gone.
There are those who for pure or
Coarse occasion stand vigil.

Others may honor this stretch
Giving over to her tides
In prayer and chaste hypnosis,
Riddle not her clement fluids.

Cavern in the Back

"Hoolie's problem always was that he was misunderstood by classmates at the junior high. They'd be like, 'Who's that kid?' and Hoolie'd be the kid who is dancing over in a corner all by himself, or maybe even in the middle of the dance floor, all by himself, but really spazzing out. Like totally oblivious. He comes to a dance, he doesn't realize that it is a social event as much as anything. Sure, you come to move, to interpret in a way, to appreciate the music; but that is generally considered to be only a template, platform, subterfuge even, for grafting rites. Hoolie wasn't about that. He really got into whatever he was doing.

Also I heard a girl tell him once, 'I don't dance with white boys.' So."

Shrugs eccentric cafeteria manager Soupy Witness at St. Chang K. Chang Chank Elementary, former kindergarten of a sullen and embattled go-go nightclub dancer Hoolie Johnson, arraigned this morning at High Shiv for manslaughter in the death of Connie Rehenes, debutante and drifter. Johnson often claims to have been a son of the High Priestess Pegyuh through some sort of goofy-talk "wrinkle-in-time" coincidence. A Wrinkle in Time is the book that will be written in the 1960's especially for children and adolescents by Madeleine L'Engle, renowned mostly for that title. Upon learning that it would be hundreds of years before the technology could be developed that would at once vindicate him on a murder rap and prove his lineage to a priestess, he began diagnosing hidden illnesses, some of which they didn't know they had, in the members of a Canadian camera crew on the scene. We are standing by to determine the outcome of the epsom salt baths and prayer he prescribed for each of them in varying doses before slipping into a shit-faced trance.
Coolie Sinbad, Chankside.

Photodelic Re-Engenderation

He Reaches Out by Reaching In

When the arm of the phonograph reached its trigger point, it lifted itself and re-cradled. The speakers went dead.

Donna and Mike each took a moment to gather their breath and have a few thoughts. Mike's receiver, in fact, was under the dining room table while he rinsed his face with cold water at the kitchen sink.

When he got back to the phone, Dr. Thong had already begun to cautiously pursue a preliminary and furtive line of questioning.

"...if this was the first time you have had an experience such as the one that we, that you... um."

"Doctor I'm sorry I'm back. I was..."

"It's Mike, isn't it?"

"Dr. Thong, I don't know how to tell you, but I hope that maybe now you may already know."

"I like music, and it did actually... carry me away."

"Of course since we're on the phone you can't really see for yourself what's been happening on my end." Mike glanced down at his shimmering abdomen. "I don't know yet, but I feel I could really swim."

"Mike," Dr. Thong began, recovering her courage with a new-found, no-nonsense attitude, "are you referring to photodelic re-engenderation?"

Peggy [the Mp3]

"You had two kids when you took to the winds."

Peggy

Lair of Dr. Thong

Dr. Thong was just polishing up the abstract of an article she'd just finished, "Discoethnology 1984: Dance Floor to Gymnasium in the Grim Aerobics Dawn," for an important medical doctor's world think tank quarterly journal magazine when the telephone rang. It was that guy who'd come by earlier that month for a kill shot.

"Doctor."

"Yes, this is Dr. Donna Thong." Dr. Thong always smiled on the phone because she had an awareness that facial expressions could resound audibly along the vocal cords through facio-cranial acoustics.

"Dr. Thong, I..."

By now, Mike considered Donna to be someone who had become one of his regular interlocutors.

"I was just wondering if..."

"Oh. Mike, isn't it?"

"Yes. That's my name."

"Well Mike, you silly. Why don't you tell me how you're feeling."

"But Doctor, don't you see-- it's just that..."

"Yes, Mike?"

"I'm feeling so HOT (hot)."

"Oh, pardon me? Sweetie are you there? Did you say hot two times?"

"Oh, doctor... doctor..."

They could both hear the music. It was overcoming them. They were helpless in its spinning thumping groove.

Born with a Vision

She was born with a vision
and it was copacetic
but where can you go but down.

Table dancing just to eat
Children home watching TV
While mommy does the late show.

She held it in her big hips
The secret that they wanted
After a couple of beers.

But no one there was ready
For Peggy's revelation
And Peggy is no longer around.

Oh Peggy Peggy
Born with a vi-zhone
You had two kids when
You took to the winds.

You had two kids when
You took to the winds.

Care-Laden Bells NBN [the Mp3]

Care-Laden Bells NBN

"Noisy but Nice"

Stays Lifted [the Mp3]

Stays Lifted

Care-Laden Bells [the Mp3]

Care-Laden Bells

Stays Lifted

There are those that will their steps on your dreams;
a single drop swells the chalice, and you wake moaning.
Call into the fray with care-laden bells clinking,
buoy rocking, buoy clanging; sun is winking.

COLUMN OF LIFE

Column of new pauses, thinking you are sumptuous.
Column of days, tight petals unfolding and turning under
Column of lines, connected only for the reason paper clips fuse in drawers.

Column, murderer, holding hostage villagers in your shadow.
Column is a forced march, dragging them by the upper arms.
Column splashing and spilling over, terrorizing with its cracks.

Column of workers, column of ants, column of monarchs.
Column raising the ante one dimension and all that was flat must fold.
Column free in the air despising reason.

Column against phallocentricism, column so old.
Column to hang around and lean on, carve, tap, be chained to.
Column to, thrashing and writhing, "pull down," as if stone.

Column of bees and nettles, a solid ring, stack of coin.
Column a tornado of fire, fever rising, spiraling tide.
Column as plinth, down under, with the relics.

Column of earth where I stand. Is a marvel of stagnation
Column of patience that non-life has. Abomination. Only
Column of Life has stations of deceasing and appearing again.

http://www.firefold.com/search.aspx?keyword=strippers

7. Same Price... What da Dif?

http://wairarapa.co.nz/times-age/weekly/soldier.html

XXX. Roleroll ["Carter's Pills"]

pussy. In good faith, you would take part in a discussion seeking to make a serious comparison between Martin Luther King and Ronald Reagan with someone who should know better. Your least useful value is the value that allows, admits, confesses to anything if it appears to serve the common good. Will crops be higher because of your sacrifices? Step back and stop making a difference when you're not. You need to roll your role. ® Be ebullient. Pop up somewhere else.

Mkidza Mlahf

Mike had his back jammed up against a Cheap n' Simple hardytile wall. His GPS marked him as on grid and viable. He got on his walkie. "Theodore twenty," he murmured. "Theodore twenty, Ted over."

"Come in co-man," Ted drove stoically, understatedly, heartily home yet with such relief in his voice. "What's it like."

"I can tell you it's different. Funny. I feel a will, a desire. My nerves are racing. While I am aware of all that is bitter and cloying, I am circumsized from any direct impact."

"And the sexualsides?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Ok so then."

"I am not a native of this place. I can only co-exist through the most basic of commonalities: Shivweek, Chart a Planet, pet-door procreation."

"I wish you well. But you know... Your getting out. All of us will suffer less as a result-- not only you."

"If you reckon."

"I reckon your mommy was a stripper."

"Yeah. Her kids were her lahf. That's wah ah wuz bornd nekket."

Truth not Therapeutic

In another protest against "changing times," a group of High Shivites claiming to be descendant from the first priests to hang the first WD back in 01 threw themselves into Kareer-Kesh, one of Mthyuh's most active mosh pits, and of course as well to their own deaths. For them, the scientific truths unearthed by recent double-blind scholarship into the causes of Mthyuh, her tremors, and the nature of our Earth's troubled core in general had been too much to take, especially when presented as some kind of advancement. "This is like raping a virgin as a way to prove her inimaculacy," postulated Priest-Forward Esogh Ilyn, whose red afro caused many onlookers to comment that he resembled a flaming white cannonball as he hurdled into the mouth of the holy death gorge this morning.

Speak Out? Are You Crazy?

http://archive.dailypicture.net/giant_baby_found_in_india.htm

6. If they were all the same price, what did it matter?

CCCMLXVI. PaxPox FL

Exomembranal profusion. You respond to your environment like a raw shell-less blob which has no conscious filter for reaction. Things happen; you have a symphony of reflexes; none are blank. Something must result: in you, from you. You are elected antenna of the world. And it's time to step down. Be dead to stimuli-- for the kids' sake. Cradle and all, baby. It's PaxPox. "For Life." One example of side effects would be scarring lesions.

Your Mommy was a Stripper

We elected Mkidza Mlaf cuz her mommy wuz a stripper. She had a hard shack growin up and lots o' mouths suckin everywhere. She had to show it off for fun, food, and release.

She partially digested the martini onions and spit them back up into her babies' craws each dawn.

5: Stop to Consider

http://wavegypsy.com/EZ%20TT%20BABY%20DEVIL%20TRUNK.html

MXXI. MD20/20.
Poztusnifta (NXS). Why are you reading this? Must you always stop to consider? Be honest. Could you really stop stopping to do it if you tried? Stop stopping and go. Be clean that way. Others eat your wind. You can break these 20's in half or go for broke. You know what you're about.

Mthyuh Pariah

My very existence is pornographic to you. It's me you want to stamp out.

When I started to become sticky eight years ago, no one minded when my clothing clung because they thought it would bring tourist revenue. Now that we are in quarantine, you want to cast me out in the only way possible: by mouth.

Por la boca, I shall not be intimidated by your dirty-minded desire to put me on stage as your bottom bitch for blood sacrifice. We all know that shivweek may never come again. But for the masses, torture is more satisfying than death. So you keep me alive until I'm spent and no longer pretty. Well, I've taken care of that. I have sticky progeny all over this county. Both the sticky daddy as well as my self have had lots to do with births in many households, and in all walks of life. And you will not be able to use viable DNA sampling methods for many hundreds of years. You will only discover our work by the sticky messes popping up right and left. And by the way. I am a lesbian.

Peggy

Undergrounded

Tom dreamt that he stooped over and did a somersault in the air and kept tumbling upward until he was flying flat out over the clouds looking down at what one of us might see looking out the window of a modern airliner even though neither he nor anyone else had yet been in that spot and lived. He looked at the bumps and smears and veins and trails and hanging mists and cracks and wrinkles suspended in the complicated vapor scape and decided that, as a part of nature, as he, as well as his language were a part of nature that it, as much as anything else that he could speak or otherwise create, must have meaning.

If he strained his neck, much as if one of us, a taller one of us, would have to do to see out the window of a modern airliner all the way to the horizon, he could see the line between the cloud cover and the sky and this too spoke to him; it meant that there was indeed a line, a limit. He had been drinking a little bit that night and feeling still emotional, like someone slammed back into the world after they thought they were already dead, so a high sound came out from the back of his throat as he slept, like a teakettle, and burning water squirted from Pink Squishy pads in the corners of his eyes.

The concept was since he was a natural animal and the clouds that hung in the sky below him or the air that he breathed were also natural, just as natural was the language which grew out of him, that he spit and spewed, as Real as Phlegm, and it would be arrogant to think there was no meaning in any of it.

When Tom woke up, it turned out he actually was on a plane. He sighed and saw his breath on the glass of the little oval window. He realized that some of his previous breaths might even be contained in the broken-up Chunks of Orange and brown clouds he was flying over now. There were veins of snow on the Brown Dirt that covered the planet west of the Chanks. The White Veins seemed to follow the water runoff. He could probably see millions of trees from that vantage point. When snow became general, water running was marked with the absence of snow. He had not yet seen an animal, but as far as he could see there was only terrain with trees and rocks and snow, and then no rocks, which seemed like a place where animals would want to go.

4: Inside Dog/ Outside Dog

LXVIII. Rover
rongplinth. Your life partner could be inside dog and you could be outside dog and get 40 extra years. The way they used to. Don't divy up chores; go to your station, and they will self-evidence. Take the 40mg for Outside Dog and HS [homeoshivic] for Inside Dog. Split it up, not up. Meaning separative team training [STT] is where it's at. Boil all communicative measures and media down into one: the kitchen window (also the name of our weekly clubzine, Kitchen Window).

Pegyuh

So you see, Hoolie, bile helps you digest your surroundings, but you can't digest outside your own body or else you don't get the nutritional value for it, and you lose all those vital acids. We are not insects that can just stroll on over and lick up our spoils.

How come she never wanted to claim me as her kid?

You know she always had the apron on--? It was all a gun moll needed to survive.

Protection?

Yes. She loved you most. She was a pariah.

triki derelicti

i stoop and weep [the Mp3]

this desmadre has been deactivated by the Mthyuh Preservation Society

Warm Green Monolith

Tom was walking down a wide empty Dhubbabera windy boulevard, his pants flapping. It was disorienting not to have to go anywhere in particular except what one had planned out for oneself, and that type was the most breakable of oaths.

So his thoughts took over. Only when he forced himself to admire the towering desert chank, blurred with a haze of spring olive verdance, did he feel that he existed as himself in that place, and in any case, that was not a pleasant thing. His mind operated as a spring this way, snapping back almost audibly after an intensive moment of pessimistic concentration before the sharply pending withdrawal. A whip. You wouldn't always want to be the object of that studied, cringing fronting off with reality.

So when a young German widow, furtive, herself disoriented, chilled by the wind in the shadow of the warm green mountain, blurted out, "Are you familiar here?" he saw the look of fright on her face and didn't want to be the cause of something like that, so he deliberately brightened up his mood, from within, allowing her innocence and vulnerability to spur on a sympathetic view of life, a view of life's delicateness, which ended up showing in his face and reassuring her.

It's back that way, he pointed. See the golden building? She'd asked him for the casino.

Then his walk continued and he did not snap immediately back into internal patter. He was crossing the shadow line on the sidewalk. Wind seemed to buffet him from all directions. There was brightness and bright color, magenta blue pink green yellow blossoms and their fragrance. As water sprang into his eyes stingingly, he imagined all of the dead who loved him standing in chorus and encouragement. But also in envy.

He felt responsible to use all of his senses, just for their sake, for a few moments longer.

Peggy, You are our Daughter

Peggy,

You are our daughter. We've been wanting to tell you for so long. We are your birth parents and we love you. We want to help you with the girls and be their grandparents.

Down the entire contents of this box NOW!

Ted
syl

P.S. We are in the parking lot.

2: In Search of a Paradigm

If they were all the same price, what did it matter?

IX. Truckon ROL.
i-proli havia. You read the Have You Experienced? pages in the paper daily. Most symptoms of most paradigms sound familiar, and you are on three or more rest-o-life doses daily. This is not a disorder. You may continue on with your life as normal, and your prognosis is positive. Why be a loser? You may expand over the years, through self-discovery, your daily regimen of wonders.

MMXLCCIX. Speed.
hunger. Remember when chicks worried about their weight just went ahead and got scripts for Black Beauties and Preludant? Fuck yeah they rocked. They like a talkie all night, makeup, stocked up on supplies. Speed freak chicks just want to hang and rag, maybe sixteen hours at a time.

CCCVII. Solids Plus.
superficiality. It's a way into deepness. The whole metrosexual thing. But not like South Park did it. More of an antidepressant. Real, physical things and how they are is real and present. You can grasp on to solids, and after all, you are one. Your premier lifewonder for today's premium rewards of your prime. Live a little. It's decadent, which means highly satisfactory.

VI. Nest.
cohesia. You believe there to be links of causality and intention between disparate entities. There is a pattern forming: of events, behavior which seem to share a purpose, though any number of motivations and consequences could be, with some effort, applied to each individual occurrence. Hanging in space, however, they would still create a shape. You are not a star. Keep it real. Nest is your ticket to everyday living.

21: Time is a Liar

Now wait a minute, Sylvia. I'm wearing lipstick, and you ask me if there's some special name I'd like to be called? I don't ask you that when you put on lipstick. Though I might think of you as some special name or another. With peach you are more a "Janice," with brick you are more an "Audry," and with the bluer tones, "Wendy."

They were at Ted's working on their letter-writing campaign. They felt that the Audubon Society, among many others, should know about the creature they'd been glimpsing hopping from gate to gate or just standing dumbly alongside the canals. It shared many of the characteristics of the Reddish Egret, except that those areas which would have been covered with feathers, and in the same colors, seemed to be tiled or even armored in a very hearty as well as irridescent, metallic plating. The Mthyah Preservation Society website had been down for weeks, and they weren't sure how, if at all, their reports and samples had been processed during previous migratory guest anomalies.

Envelope stuffing had allowed their conversation to drift.

Gee, you know I ran into Lourdi Spires the other day in Career Center, and it's like sometimes there's a limit before you just have to let these holier-than-thou types know that they could really go ahead and act more Christian!

Well there's remember Hoolie? Maintenance? Went around acting just like Christ and wasn't afraid to tell you so. What a dirty freak. Heretic. Stank.

God you know he could have been a shooter. Good thing that cancer he had got him off our campus at least.

Tom and Sylvia make contact.

Then they did the torture where they spin you around very fast in an office chair-like contraption, then stop you suddenly and spin you even faster the other way. How can I be so important? she murmured, bloody spittle strung across her cheeks and hair. Then she realized: she wasn't that important at all. The torture was completely automated. This was sort of like a car wash whereas before it would have taken an entire team of ensemble actors. Soon it would spit her out on a lawn behind a post office or a school. Not soon enough... she was going to faint... not soon...

What? What was that? A tiny package, a vial... by her foot. She thought she had hallucinated it, but no. It had come rolling across the floor and under--into--mother's shoe. No-Shiv. The red box.

Tom and Sylvia stood holding one another in the parking lot.