Big Maz in Queens Co.

We are just about finished with queens. counting trees makes it worth the blisters, the cause of which is tree counting. (the cause is the means and is welcomed through pains) conceptually, the trekking makes me clearminded and into a papaya.

Jean Baudrillard (1927 - 2007)

Our loss here is the fact that people are dumbfounded.



today i felt as if it was winter.

lost art

seriously, this was long overdue.

Yeast, halitosis

Yeast saw the layerings of engine belts. That glob of oily sweat running down his cheeks. His name meant “pastiche punching-bag” in Latin. I hated the smell of his breathe.

genuine nonchalance.

“Wait, his face looks larger, wider, than I last remember. Oh, that’s right…huh. The treatment’s consequence, read. Thinking that won’t last, I remember the news. Things like that come with a genuine nonchalance. Huh.”

The doggies outside were arguing over who was more of a doggy. The children where yelling that they were everywhere, all the time, and no one should steal gum. The adults seemed bent on bending the gate, but the yelling tenant (Hey suckahs, stop that!) scared them, as did the raining light bulbs. The man who fixes only one car strolled passed me as I left, turning his head to watch as I sat into the car that I called someone else’s. “Nosey, nosey, rubber-necking busy-body, go.” As the humidity increases, the pressure climaxes, the wind from the approaching front embays the street, the lone bird sings, mocking existence at 11 PM. I know it is a blue-jay. I know it is time for these chicks to eat regurgitation. I know this is a city that will be a misery, and hootenanny, and a catastrophe over the next few months.



Decided against hair-cuttings, for now.