Sunday, August 18, 2013


" I know I shouldn't have had you waiting at all....

Here is where you want to be. "






I found a sheet of paper in one of my books. It takes me longer than 10 seconds to notice I actually wrote it. Unable to recognize my own handwriting:

"-There are lots of men on there.
-Languid, like a half dead dog. Halfway off the curb, transmuted from human 2 monument.
-Oil and white feathers. (I think I meant black oil, the kind we decide 2 wage wars over)
-Ringworm -----> A family of victims. It stops here out of love. (???)
-It looks like boiling grease was poured all over the bottom half of his face."

There's a yellow candle on the desk. It says 7 Nudos or 7 knots, a woman splayed across a pentagram.

A friend told me he thought Satan was boring.
I agree.

I know what that last note is related to. He comes into my bookshop after he gets his paycheck. Graciously spends money on the better Ingmar Bergman books and stranger literature, like Susan Howe. He looks real, uh, "regular" or "standard" if you know what I mean. Looked at his face and hands more closely during the really awkward moments of waiting for a swiped credit card to approve itself to us, and notice white splotches--like uneasy continents--on his arms and across his neck and face. They could be strange albino-cousined birthmarks or they could be traces of boiling grease that drenched him during some kind of tragic moment that he's forced to relive with girls on 2nd, even 1st, dates constantly. If you could whorl and enlarge muted freckles across a body, they would be his. Are they injuries. God, I guess they're genetic injuries. And I think about my own, stretched over the inside of my body, quiet psychosis. Feel like secreting a gelatinous series of words to him that may or may not make sense like,

"Boi I kno."

It feels self-involved to have the thought and I laugh at myself. The truth is, I feel these kind of marks are much more socially acceptable than ever now, beyond fetishized, just generally prized. Suddenly, I see him as integrated perfectly into these purchases, some kinda focusing happening. And I realize he is the customer I always wanted. He says he'll be back in when he gets his next paycheck and will we get the 'Wild Strawberries' book back in stock soon?
I say,
'Definitely.'






'I think 'Swimming Pools' gives me the same feeling as the song 'Blue'
'Everybody's saying that Hell's the hippest way to go, well I don't think so, gonna take a look around it tho.'






3 comments:

Millineries said...

SHE'S NOT BROKEN, SHE'S JUST A BABY.

BUT HER BOYFRIEND'S LIKE A DAD. JUST LIKE A DAD.

Bernard said...

I miss reading you.

Sasha Fay said...

I really enjoyed reading this. Sincerely.
Sasha Fay