We have to be reminded to walk in the extensions of our ancestors
I couldn’t even wake him up today. Probably scared him off thinking about how easy it once was. How ecstatic. How the words flowed through and around me. “Your not him anymore!” he shouts from the bit of turf he has pulled around his shoulders, frozen nematodes and roots of hedge bindweeds hanging and glinting off his great belly like some antediluvian medals indicating meritorious attempts to manifest in the world.
As you get older strange hairs begin to grow from strange places.
Not even an origin story
50 years of yellowing
Even then he preferred visceral verbs
Assuming bastard.
Practicing being a Doctor
Atrocious handwriting but I like how the smoke goes off the page — very modern.
Later, unconsciously he used this as a viable playbook for goth lovers.
He never lost his desire to kill punctuation and applauded when Joyce spitefully added the giant period at the end of “Finnegans Wake”
They still do. ‘Crepuscular’ is ‘home’ in the Goblin language
Today in a world of ‘othering by diagnosis, I wonder what ‘death of Mystery’ can be deduced by analysis of his handwriting?
He had grown bored with the assignment and wanted to go outside and play in the Big Woods. Unfortunately, due to his improper use of the grimoire, many of his future lovers would indeed be ‘Whitches’ caught between claiming their power and giving in to culturally conditioned indecision. As to the impact of the dishes and ragdy on the syntax of his life? I think The Replacements said it best “One foot in the door, the other foot in the gutter/The sweet smell that they adore, I think I'd rather smother”
