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From: frank_fowlkes@yahoo.com
Newsgroups: alt.stories.urban-harvest
Subject: Re: green, yellow, orange, purple, red, blue, and black
Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2004 14:06:17 -0700
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===================
* * *
* *
green, yellow, orange, purple, red, blue, and black
* *
*
* * *
* *
*
* *
*
*
* * *
* *
* * * *
*
#
* # * * * * # *
* * * *
* * * * # *
* # * *
* * * * * #
# # *
## # *
*
# * * *
* *
* # * * #
*
# # * *
# * # * * * *
## # ## * *
* ## * ## # # * #
* ## * ## # # #
# # # ## *## ## * *
### # # * ## # # #
* # ##
* ## # ## ## ## *## *
# ## ## #
* ### *## # # * ## *
## * # # ## ## # ## ## *
* * ## ### ## ### * * *
* ## ## ## ## ## * ### *
*## ## ### # ### #### *
## ### ##### # # ## #
*## # # ##### # # # *
* #######
# ### # * *
* #### ## * * *
####### * *
* ## ### *
* * ###### *
* ##### * *
######
##
* *
* *
* # # # #* *
*
*
* # # # *
The snow was falling around him, and some black trees creaked slowly
in the wind. He lifted his hands away from the snow. The black
mountain and the day after the seventy seventh hour started to creep
closer to his thoughts but, always and soon after, he felt another
black lapse coming that would push the mountain, the day, further
away. He started counting where he left off. The black lapses he
could*never stop; they stopped thought, stopped ideas, but he hope
that this time he would be able to pass. And yet he felt they were
coming more and more merciless now, more than ever, maybe this time he
wouldn't get a second chance, and maybe attempting to pass was
senseless, worthless.
# # #
* # # # #
when you start to feel tired rub #
imaginary ice over your arms,
face, neck, chest
*
#
"This one is stronger than the last," he thought, at the same time
counting down from seven hundred. He tried every other method to pass
through the black lapses without losing consciousness, imaginary
walks, imaginary cold baths, imaginary fights, imaginary love affairs,
none of them help, only counting or repeating sentences over and over
again sometimes helped but never entirely, he would always end up
drowning. Imaginary fights and fucks, imaginary people and worlds,
helped him get through the early grey lapses.
The grey lapses only lasted the first couple of hours; they only
suggested sleep, suggested that he close his eyes and rest awhile,
last thoughts always a fuck, or maybe a fight to keep a fuck or get a
fuck, get another fuck. A long time ago, imagining before sleep also
helped him plan the next day, if he ever woke up again, to get stuff
right: right place, right time, right change to be right person, and
other times they changed stuff from how they actually happened, or how
someone would have like for them to happen, should've stayed a little
while longer, should've lied, should've have changed. Later that
night, when gradually the grey lapses turned black, and the black
lapses didn't suggest sleep, they stop all thoughts from continuing,
from forming, he resorted to counting. Imaginary fights and fucks were
useless for him to use to help him get past the black lapses; they
only took one so far, if one's imaginations turned right, next
morning, love then a fuck, also a pass to do anything to anyone in
this world, and if one's imaginations didn't amount to anything, no
reason to go any further. Staring up at the stars, the very first
night when he first got the idea to stay awake for as long as
possible, he began imagining the waves crashing on the beach, one,
two, three, four-hundred and thirty-one, on and on, and with the grey
lapses turning blacker and blacker, not able to repel them, he then
began to wonder about all the times he drifted off to sleep imagining
this, imagining that, and how they use to give him reasons, to sleep,
to wake up tomorrow, get stuff right, but he discovered he didn't
really*imagine anymore, not the way he use to anyway when he was a
kid, only plotting, only scheming, just calculating, and sometimes,
feeling his heart thump against his chest, late at night, knowing that
he'll never be able to wake up and set wrongs right, he only wanted to
sleep even more, wake up to a changed world, or never wake up at all.
The black lapses stopped thought like sleep. Yet, the lapses weren't
sleep, people choose to sleep, like they chose to fuck, kill, and
fuck, and kill, kill in various ways, spreading rumors, lies, or not
intervening in time, twenty steps and sounds of a branch snapping and
a dead kid near a puddle of water, they were different; worse; they
were like undertows, and after one broke the surface to breathe again,
one never sure about the last count, never sure about the extent of
the lapse, another black lapse would come, and another, and another,
eventually halting the day after the seventy seventh hour, halting the
mountain. The black lapses were more like death, one dead sure, with a
smile or a frown, never to be here again. He lifted his fingers off
his wrist, not fast enough, the lapse was starting to peak.
* *
bend your left arm, tap right
phalanges against your elbow * #
#
* #
He started to rub sand up and down his arms and up to his neck and
began counting drops of water falling on a black puddle, one, two,
three, faster and faster, ten, eleven. His thoughts were beginning to
cloud. He started to tighten his abdominal muscles. "Don't sit up," he
remembered, every muscle in his body wanting him to. The black lapses
never appeared when someone attempted to stay awake by doing
repetitive motor exercises, one needed to be in the dark, still, and
supine. Anyone could stay awake for days, hands on a hard body or
walking around in circles, but very few could stay awake while quiet,
still and supine, and that's why they were dangerous, and that's why
only a handful of people attempted to confront the black lapses,
sometimes they were so close to the mountain that thought and ideas
were arranged strangely different before the lapses would stop all
thought all together, and more often than not, people that glimpsed at
those thoughts, never woke up again, maybe chose to never wake up
again, or woke up to the day after the seventy seventh hour. At the
same time, the black lapses weren't to be avoided; the lapses were the
only obstacle in front of the black mountain, to the day after the
seventy seventh hour, to the last thought. No one could get to the
black mountain by not passing through the black lapses, if anyone
could get through one, through death itself. Sometimes he would
remember fragments of those strange thoughts, a black bridge, a sand
dune, the volcano, and a you never believed in me, but he would always
end up drowning, waking up the next morning to a sound, to a strange
sense that he almost pierced through but never knowing for sure, never
remembering the thoughts completely; this was his thirty-fourth
attempt trying to get to the mountain.
After some of the black lapses, he would remember a strange tree, and
that he was counting his steps, and he despaired because he knew he
wouldn't reach them in time. The lapse ebbed, and his mind began to
slowly clear, and he could just make out far off in the distance the
two figures under the tree.
#
* #
hold your breath, count the seventy seven
knots on the string, round and round *
#
*
He sat up. The sky was still black but he could see a faint glow
somewhere on the horizon.*"the dawn is near" he repeated several times
before resting back to the earth. Past one, he thought to himself;
this can't be right; the mountain isn't here. He repeated the words, I
promise, and tried to remember who he made the promise to, why. He
wanted another black lapse to come before the sun climbed into the
sky; he wanted to make sure he actually past one. "The black lapses
have been crossed, and for what, for a ‘promise I know nothing
about.'"
## #
anything, slap the back of your hand!
just don't choose to fall asleep before
the seventy seventh hour # #
## #
And one came, lasted only a couple of seconds, and he was wrong, or
just a little off, the black lapses have been never been past, the
last one like the other lapses, only let him get to the foot of the
mountain, and this one not only threaten to drown him to sleep,
removing his chances to get to the mountain, this one physically
threatened to snap him out of existence. He started to count and
paused, the stars started to violently shake, the ground erupted, and
then began to repeat sentences over and over again, this lapse unlike
any of them experienced before.
## #
* ## * # * *
* #* # # * # * * *
* ## # # * # *
* ## * # # ##
* ## # ## #
* #### # ## *
* ## ## ## #
* ## # * * ## *
* # ## # *
* ##
# * # # ## *
* * ## * * *
# * # * ## *
* * # # *
* * # # # ##
* * # # # * # * ## *
# * * # # * ##
*# ##
* # #
* * * * *
# * * # *
* * # * * * *
* # # # * # # *
* # # * * *
# *# # # #
# # # # # # * # *
*# # ## #
* # * # *##
* # # *
* # # ##
# * # * *
* # * # * ##
* *#
* * # * * *
# * * "She was hanging clothes outside,
*# # #
* #
# * # *##
* # * * * *
* # * * # # *##
* # # *# ##
* ##
# * ## *##
* # * * # * *
# * # * # *
* * # # *
* #*
* * * * *
# * * # * #
*##
* #
* * * * *
* #* * *
* * * #* * *
* # * *
* # * # * *
*
# * # *
* and the wind started to come down the mountain."
* * ### *#
* *
*#
* ## *#
* * * * *
# * *#
* * * *
* # * * * *#
* * * *
* # * * * * *
* * # *
* * # *
*#
* # * * * *
* * *
* * *
* * * *
* #
* *
*
* *
* * *
*
* * # * * * *
* * *
*
# * * *
* # *
*#
* *
* * * * *
* *
### * * *
*
There was this green tree on a hill surrounded by sand dunes, and this
boy was at its base and looking up. He saw that there was a space that
one could climb into and disappear from the death. The boy climbed up
the tree, and he felt safe; he meet the gentle creature that never
died, that kept the death away. They promised the boy to protect him
from the death. And then some monsters came; they came and rested
under the tree. The boy watched them grunt to each other. Then they
all left one behind the other, and a strange smear was left behind, a
purple light that was slowly spreading. The leaves of the tree turned
red; the black branches turned cold. He climbed down and followed them
for awhile. They spread the death much faster in their wake than the
other monsters that were here, the boy thought; there is more purple
light to see farther than the faint glow of the last monsters; these
monsters will spread the death faster. After awhile, more and more
purple light everywhere, some shouts were heard, and he saw them
surround one of the gentle creatures. The gentle being pleaded for the
monsters not to spread the death. The monsters didn't care; they
wanted what the last monsters wanted, to stay alive as long as
possible. The gentle creature didn't want to join the monsters so the
gentle creature was torn to pieces and eaten, munched from the rump
all the way to the crown. The boy shouted for them to stop but they
wouldn't, they even turned and smiled. The boy stared to run away; he
was really scared, he didn't wanna get munched either. He ran to the
places where there wasn't any purple light but eventually the purple
light spread everywhere. The monsters finally caught the boy and ate
him. The green tree on a hill surrounded by the sand dunes is no
longer there, and all the gentle creatures have been murdered and
eaten. There is only the purple light and the few remaining monsters,
and they can see as far as they want.
### * *
* *
*
* *
"wind was cold." ## * *
* * * *
* * *
He felt the purple pulsation, and was scared. He didn't know exactly
how but he sensed that maybe he was one of those monsters and that one
of the gentle beings was trying to communicate with him, the death is
spreading too fast. One of the gentle beings then touched his cheek,
and he started to cry. He too wanted to reach out, touch the gentle
being, put his lips on her, maybe munch her a little, but the
pulsation went black, and he
was pull under, and was drowning again.
* * ## *
* ##
*
* *
* * * *
* *
* * * *
"The cold wind started to come down the mountain."
* * * *
* *
* ##
##
* * *
#
* *
# *
* *
* * * *
* *
### * * *
*
Followed the bum from the interstate; watched him from a distance; and
waited until he slept before crawling closer. The bridge rumbled, and
the air smelt like piss. Knelt down and stared at him,*there, ashes
and trash, sleeping, dreaming. Began to wonder about his thoughts
right before he drifted off to sleep. He might not wake up tomorrow;
might wake up to a pain radiating out from the center of his chest,
down his arms, down his legs, no light, eyes closing around a black
sky. Nearer, watched*his breathe sprinkle the air with snow flakes.
Brushed his cheek with the back of my hand; stepped back, crouched
below the horizon, and remained still. The bum was motionless, silent,
but I knew he was awake,*skin and eyes, ears and nose, a mind not
knowing which way the wind was blowing. Wanted to*climb, my black
silhouette rushing forward, and soon, my cold hands around his throat,
drowning him in his own spit but he soon fell back to sleep, not ever
knowing the reason why he woke up to a quiet black sky. I picked up a
rock and placed it forward, and then moved the rock back to its former
location. The bum didn't stir. Stared at the rock and happened to
think of her. She would always do the same, never even stir, but
sometimes, after a*strange noise, after a draft of wind, awake a
little longer, believing that shadows were crossing the black framed
window, she sometimes noticed a difference but then she would always
fall asleep and forget. I buried the rock. The bum won't even notice
the difference when he wakes up tomorrow. Myself, sometimes I would
wake up in the middle of night, and, strange, find my mind empty,
frantic almost, no place, no purpose, no name, and after, my name is,
I'm right here, I'm doing this tomorrow, fall back to*sleep not caring
about the difference, only wanting to sleep, with a name or not. Stood
up. Stay awake past the seventy seventh hour; what if you went to
sleep and you never woke up, she teased once, and tell me then, your
last thoughts right before you fall to sleep. I looked down at the
bum. I wanted to creep closer, didn't care if she, the bum, or if
anyone heard me, soon, real soon, after the seventy seventh hour.
Stood there, wondering who arranged all those thoughts in my head
right before sleep, not her, left the cunt a long time ago, or maybe
she left me, doesn't matter anymore, she has her prayers I have mine,
the prayer after*the seventy seventh hour, and wondered there too
long. The bum was beginning to open his eyes as the sun behind me
climbed. And then there was only a scream. *
### *
* *
* * * *
* *
* * "and the wind came down the mountain." *
*
* *
##
*
He is forced to concentrate on keeping his eyes open. There are
figures moving around him. They are creeping closer, those with the
black blankets, the shape shifter's. They wakened him once when he was
little. One of them had the black blanket on a stick some distance
from his body so there appeared to be two of them that one night then
after they spooked him then two men became one and then the man turned
into a monster ten feet tall and six feet wide. He now never glimpses
to the light when in the darkness. He blinked; the street light went
out, and he saw another one of them move.
*
"Coming down hard."
###
Don't fucking drive a car, idiot; walk, take the bus; and position the
body to sleep at night; that's right, no coffee, no mindless stunts,
only position: supine and still, and in the black room, tittering on
the edge of the black lapses!
* ##
Blue toaster waved at little Red saucer.
"Hi!"
Little Red saucer started to cry. ##
"He only dated you to get near someone better, and you two broke up
not
because of an absence of love but because one person didn't want to
share, further a lie, the truth being, you'll lose, just because you
haven't yet, doesn't mean you won't, see right over here, your soul
stops, and guess what, little critters were playing over where your
soul stopped, little greens ones, blue, and orange ones; they were
really funny."
"So what you gonna do with that secret?"
Little red saucer stopped crying. ##
"Be sure to get pregnant next time before someone really gets to know
me."
Blue toaster nodded.
##
Some thunder was heard, and rain drops began to fall.
Copper tea pot appeared.
"Super glue has put me together again."
##
Little Red saucer started to spin, around and around.
"A day smashed and put together again later."
A tea bag peeped.
##
"Some parts missing, missing parts filled in with super glue, supposed
to make you stronger now."
Copper tea pot didn't like that so she left so did blue toaster.
"Bye."
They looked back and only saw a tea bag on a red saucer.
*
*
Counter clock was being hurt. And counter clock asked blue critter
what are all the motives to kill, to hurt, and the little blue critter
cried out before being slapped in and out between some pink bums, to
eat and maintain the soul, to fuck and further one's soul.
###
"Then the wind turned to gravy."
*
He heard a sound coming from his right, and he looked over to his
left; a bush there has inched closer. He raised his hands to his head
and began to clenched them around his hair. He was trying to prevent
himself from plunging any deeper, further any further, away. And the
sentences that he was repeating to stay awake were starting to change;
they were getting foreign; he felt they might eventually keep him
awake long enough to get to the source of the wind, the mountain, to
the very last sentence, yet maybe they would lead him to something
else all together, somewhere far from the truth, something as simple
as you didn't smile that one day someone else did.
*
*
* *
"She left him to stand there alone with a thumb tack."
*
*
*
*
*
#7#
# *
#
* "And he stood there alone, almost."
#
*
##4
### #
Stuff to do during the day so as to stay awake passed the 77th hour:
don't walk around, from one end of the city to the other; don't walk
down some railroad tracks, walk back; don't read; don't watch TV;
don't work, no fun; don't panhandle for loose change; don't protest
something; don't do anything, just rest, go down to the park, lay down
under a tree, use only thoughts,
*
* 5#
Stuff to do during the night: write a little, from memory, from the
past day, then position self supine, and wait for black lapses.
*
* #6
And put this thought in your pretty little head, maybe after another
and another black lapse, up until sometime after the 77th hour, more
and more parts of her and the whole world will slowly disappearing, or
something weird like that, finally the black mountain will be lifted
off on this place, off and away, something cool like that.
*
* *
"Surprise!"
Some funny little critters were dancing around an old couple, and some
danced better than others.
"So you two have been together for over fifty years."
They both nodded
"See those two boys near the tree watching the girl over there?"
The couple nodded again to the girl.
"The girl thought she loved one of the boys a little more but then one
boy killed the other boy so then the girl ended up loving the boy that
was still around. Why?"
The woman looked at her husband and said, "it's a trap; she wants to
lure us in."
"Or how about those two girls watching that boy; one of the girls died
and the one still around ended up being loved by the boy."
"Why."
The old man started to break dance, and the old woman put her hands on
her knees, grinding.
"Ever wonder how two people come together?"
The critters started to run away. They both shrugged, "love."
"Once, families made sure; property was passed on and on by arranging
marriages, that's one way love started. Property to make sure the soul
was furthered."
The old man got brave. He started to walk towards the girl.
"Why do you want to break us apart?"
"Back right up gramps."
Gramps stopped.
"Gimme a break, nothing to break apart, given a better opportunity,
you both will do that on your own. Just maybe you both never had the
opportunity. Or maybe one of you did but I bet the opportunity wasn't
better than the one staying together."
Gramps rushed at the girl, and the girl picked up gramps and body
slammed him.
"Gramps, this isn't about your love; love isn't any better excuse to
do anything to anyone than hunger, fear, or sadness."
Gramps rolled over on his side.
"How many bushels grows on ten acres? And how many people does it
feed? Let's say ten people, minus the five who get crowded out and
die. Your love includes being in that five. You can link a special
feeling with why you want to love someone but you can also link other
stuff, concrete stuff. Just coincidence that you see the same pairs
over and over again, and if there is an error, you see that error in
the various objective pairings, and people break up, look for other
opportunities."
Gramps was moaning in a pain.
"So," the old woman said, "so what!"
The girl walked up to the old woman.
"So?"
The girl looked at the old woman. The little critters were coming
back.
"So don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining."
###
*
Sleep, sleep, sleep, tomorrow will be different, you'll be able to
live with the promises you broke, and then one day you won't even wake
up at all, entered his mind, and these were unlike the grey lapses,
these were more sincere, he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to
the child left on the mountain, the black lapses kept him from coming
any closer. The fragment
startled little child embracing a balloon that went pop flickered for
a moment and then the sky went black again. He lifted his head off the
ground and looked around. He didn't know where he was, nothing was
familiar, where he was suppose to go, and there was no one beside him,
no one around. He stopped the sentences, she didn't leave him, he
didn't leave her, never any relationship, only a couple of one night
stands, he needed to be honest to himself, and he was never alone, not
then, not seven years later, he belonged with those from the black
patch, only motives to keep thought going, he hoped to use them to be
able to keep his promise but they weren't enough, they weren't enough
to pass through the lapses, and he sure didn't want them to be his
last thoughts. He wanted to get to the black mountain; wanted the day
after the seventy seventh hour; he wanted to know more about the
promise he made. He didn't start counting again. Instead, he opened
his mind, and a flood of thoughts began to enter.
*
###
The remains of the dead baby were on one of the mountain's ledges. A
soul not allowed to continuing, or impress.
And that makes all the difference sometimes, a phone call here, a
little present there, some eye contact, and pieces of a person still
here, if that not be the very soul, still alive, and another not wiser
dead and listening to a cricket. And other times a lot easier.
Hot outside, he heard a cricket, well as sure to be alive tomorrow.
Wonder who you killed on your way to
He broke up with me. She started to cry.
They may not be dead now but they'll be dead, and you'll both still
around somewhere, some future someone gazing off then unexpectedly
smiling, that be you both smiling, some pieces that were in you both
now in them.
Good title for a story: wonder who you killed on your way to a happy
life.
Can you see the soul in one person, say a father or mother, and see
that same soul in one of their children, and doesn't have to be
complete, that is, interfere with the autonomy of a person of course,
but, I guess, also known as a characteristic, like a smile, she has
her father's eyes, she has her mother's temper, maybe same thing as
the soul; don't know that much about the stuff.
Anybody alive must have a good soul then, they be alive, anyone else
dead.
What are the instructions that put life together; if anywhere the soul
be in there; our souls are carried forward by our children, spiny C+
et al.
Maybe you're afraid she cares more, life needs to be given the best
shot,
so many ways to do nothing in this life; why didn't want to be trapped
into one.
think and write, think and write, think and write, think and write
1997, seven years ago, took me awhile to put it together, only
instructions that put life together, only instructions. More and more
instruction coming merrily along.
Cut and slice, and then there's 1997, some killings still happen the
same old way, left on a mountain top, the woods, or a salt shaker in a
glass of water.
What is this soul in man, the soul is a mother or father holding their
baby, and the soul is passed on and on. Can the soul stop, sure can,
by not having a baby, that's the reason why making sure the soul
continues is so important,
make black white, wrath to grace, pop songs, and cool sit-coms.
He killed a man's/woman's soul from continuing and got fifteen years.
He got out and married, and had two children. Some souls are sure
better than others.
Man, dude just robbed the bank, like an Apache stole a pony, to
someday give a chick a smooth ride. That punk over there that robbed
the convenience store, only robbed it to get some stuff so some chicks
would come over and party, maybe even buy him some of those new
snickers at payless. All ok, maybe even a deterrent, all over TV, only
1 or 2 in every 100,000. Yeah he beat her up; he only wanted her to
stay; she leaves without giving him a kid, his time spent to further
his soul stops. If she has his kid, who cares, pat her on the butt and
someday come around the house to see his four kids when her other
husband is not around, get laid again, maybe get her pregnant again
and let the other dude think the baby is his. She drowned her kids
after her husband left her for another woman, and sad, he didn't care,
not for very long anyway, other woman would give him better kids, a
better soul. Sit under a tree and see an apple fall from a tree, don't
like your explanations Mister, not one bit. An apple falls faster if
someone throws it down then if they just let it drop.
On and on, and on and on, the tail will catch up to the head someday.
She bent over, you like. He pulled up in a shiny car. Others don't
look while she/he's around.
Only reason to court to check whether someone can keep their promises,
that be make money, shelter, protection, smarts, muscle, misc., or to
find out their promises are a lie, not going to do enough to ensure
eternal life, so to seek someone who can without wasting anymore
youth/time. He didn't need to change that, she left him on the cold
beach, right before the pacific expanse, maybe because he/she sensed
that he couldn't ensure that she/they would live forever, that meant
changing/continuing the world and people to make sure their baby had
the best chance to continue the same.
And he risked everything, risked even hope, and that wasn't enough, on
a craps table, she liked the don't pass line bet. First roll a seven.
Your soul continued here but others changed here all so their souls
could continue better, that make any sense.
Dude scratched his head. There changing here more and more.
Yup
Makes you wanna try to change stuff too uh.
My soul has gone as far as possible.
I have no right. What right does anyone have? Some souls are better
than others. Proof is in the pudding, and everything that come after
because of that.
Blue no longer had any promise anyone could trust. They are changing
the world and people by force to insure their eternal life; he
expected to
help them or something.
Mom and Dad worked till they both drop dead one day, and for what.
They would never understand, any moment God's wrath rained down
merciless.
*
1: water purifier, 2: instant live eggs, 3: growth food; guaranteed to
live two years; 95 cents postage and handling
I'm alive, the fiery mountain, the day after the 77 hour.
Most normal nights, not any thoughts, stop prayers long time ago, only
wake up to another morning, an intermission, plenty food and plenty of
women, some snapping at bling bling, others a couple of nods when they
speak of stuff, then, eventually, curtains closing, opening, mangas
colored rojo, the cream rising to the top, crap sinking.
Possible state of mind after the 77th hour: fucking really tired, and
like any other night, not caring to ever waking up again; at the
steppe of the black mountain; or, wondering what 38402 93845 02038 938
9 84 9 is up to. State of body: p 100, bp 150/90, r 25, t 36.0
Possible states of the body and mind after love: some bodily fluids
over a white sheet, maybe some moaning if she really loves you; or
someone in a trashcan, let someone build on a lie, someday a house of
cards crashing down.
###
*
###
Wrong to think people will play fair
Wrong to think someone won't notice the flaw in you
Wrong to think he/she could love you
Wrong to think . . .
Wrong to trust
Wrong to believe
False start: an utterance then abandoning it, sometime before the end,
and starting a new idea,
What if one followed a false start to the end, done in argument though
rarely?
Amethyst hippos go to the upside down Marshmallow Mountains every year
for fun and stuff. Usually after amethyst hippos the statement stops
and changes to something like this, amethyst hippos don't exist unless
someone paints them.
Stuff been done before in stories, a false start, and then the end,
more or less, two people just looking at each other, maybe hugging, or
some dude in a dark room looking out of a window, 3 A.M., snow
falling, a faraway light, something like that.
And believe me, worse, fucking heart breaking, poor kid disqualified
from a swimming meet, or far worse, stuff that'll make tears run down
your cheek, at least for a little while.
Salt shaker in a glass of water speaks to artificial sweetener, TA
diner remember, I80, East of Chicago, 97
"And why does your love include having more than one baby?"
"Nobody wants to stop your love!"
"If anything, she wants to strength it. Nothing better than two
people, even with death we'll never part, everyone, everything, else
fucking corrupting that, adulterated it." Really fucking sickening, we
think.
"No one's gonna come between your precious love, silly; you two have
nothing else."
"Unless something else is going on, something to do with your eternal
life, killing other life, halting any other life from having a chance,
or something, you think."
"16 8 4 2, and guess what, there is more mercy in that than the mercy
given to others.
"Live with it, we all don't for very long, you'll figure that out.
### reprise
The first time he tried to pass the black lapse he. . .and woke up the
next morning feeling disappointed.
Larry was holding the hand of a little child, then they both turned
and disappeared up the crooked path. He kept staring, imagining them
waiting for him but he knew he would never reach them in time. And he
wanted to there with them, alive, more than anything. They waited, and
he sat down beside them under the green tree on the hill
Why has man concealed that the soul is really passed on and on through
fucking and stuff. There is evidence for that, anywhere someone is
watching someone else hold their infant child. The infant is usually
thought as a separate person, as if the child can belong to anyone,
when, evidence contradicts that, and that may explain many motives.
Maybe some souls are better than others, look around, read some
history books, lot of people look strangely a like. Anyway, stuff has
been covered, boring kinda, reason why people get up in the morning,
reason why they'll do anything to further their soul. If the soul can
be furthered 2 4 8 16, some turkeys sacrificed on the way, then it
sure as hell can be furthered 16 8 4 2.
Where does the soul of a person go when the person dies?
Is the soul the same as personality?
Does thought have a soul?
The child softly said, don't need me to tell you your soul will stop
too. The child soon ran off after a black butterfly and disappeared
over a sand dune. Larry lit some one hundreds, and then Larry spoke,
what so fucking difficult for you to understand, not anyone's fault
either, no fucking conspiracy, people's only interest is in furthering
their own soul anyway they can and if they can't they get mad and,
Larry paused and stoked, smoke slowly disappearing from his lips, and
then continued, terrible stuff sometimes happen.
Make the fucking connection, love, fucking, kids, and a kingdom,
behind everything someone does, good or bad.
The child reappeared holding a black ribbon, and behind the child the
clouds were starting to change color, and he was overwhelmed with
sadness.
"Promise me."
"I promise."
###
* *
*
* 14 * * 86*
* 95*
239 * 59
7
* * ## *
* *77
* * * ## * 68 *
* * *
*## ##
* #
* # ##
* *# # ## ##
455 ## ## ##0 # ## *
* * # ### # # ## ### ##### *
* * # #4# ## # # ## #### ###
* * ### ## # ### ### # ### ####
* 1# ## # ## ##### ## ## ## ### #7##
* ### ## ### # #6# ## # ## ### # ## ## ##
## ## ### ### ### ## ### # ## # ## # #
* ## ## ## #### 45## #### ### ## # #### # 6# # # ## ## ## ###
## ## * * *##
* # ## *
* ## ##
## * ## ###*
## ## #
* * ## ##
#* * ## ## * ## * *
## * * * ##
* ## ##
*## ##
He sat up, brushing some of the snow and sand off his legs. The wind
was starting to flow the opposite direction; he could see the mountain
above the horizon and the dark orange glow behind it. The mountain was
moving up and away. He wouldn't be able to keep his promise but he had
faith in one that would.
##
#
#
He remembered seeing a bug in a toilet;
#
and he remembered how the wet bug felt in his hand as he walked
towards an exit; and then the black lapse over took him, and he was no
more.
the end
[more of the same, surreal stuff, lucid dreaming etc.; first part
introduction to the phenomenon: inability to stay awake, and if awake
for too long the body and mind puts an end to that through, call them
whatever, black lapses, nodding off, and why so, what thought is it
trying to prevent the mind from putting together; and then what
follows, second part, the usual, some stuff that'll have gramps or
some future gramps mad, same fucking gramps thinking they be the whole
reason why world and other people, ideas, are existent, since the
whole world rests on their shoulders, of course, or something; and
then the requiem, third part, maybe the kid gets to the mountain, the
day after the seventy seventh hour, or maybe this lapse finally puts
him down, or maybe he wakes up the next morning, one day closer to
death, one day closer where he will be no more.
Anyway going for seven vignettes, not really sure how I am going to
link them other than they all attached to the black lapses, and need
to step away from this work for awhile, come back later, mind's fried.
The black lapses
/ \
A -- B -- F
\ \
C \
G / \ |
D E
Just more ideas behind my vignettes, and they themselves supporting
the phenomenon, the black lapses, nodding off, just like the
phenomenon of false dawns
, we all have much to lose, some more than others no doubt, but you're
not worried about that, not about other people only yourself,
just wanna finish this, getting kinda lazy
And ps, last night was great, thx for the bj
]