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Ive had this idea....

eagleyez

eagleyez

going up
Joined
Jan 11, 2003
Posts
22,879
Now, mind you it doesnt consume much of my time, but as I ride along the river or sit behind a digital desk, sometimes I think here on this board it would be ok to suggest a pulp ass kind of paragraphed kind of palimsest story, nothing but fragments, layered and edificed like a slowly built kind of cubist blues artifice, words that strangely blend and characters, but really nothing more than paragrahps instead of "poems."

So I begin, and if you are confused by the idea, well, then maybe all the better.




He was a tad pissy cause the lads were late for poker night, " I ran after your car, but you were already up the hill." She has a bit of a leadfoot mate, i said, and Corey and Tom Feeggee will surely come. Its as dead as codfish here this week end, and these boys have no family or committments. Surely you dont expect they would stiff ya, now do You?
 
" They are just a bollocks, so, I'll call you."

A load of cops on the poorly lit street sliding thru town now, navigating the Suez canal on a tricycle, "hell he's just got to piss and moan. I still love him."


I wanted too grab the English muffins out of the grocery bag and eat about 5. Such an aroma and 99c a bag. But mainly it was time to go home on Thanksgiving eve, get off the wet slippery road and have a can of soup, or eggs and listen to music.
 
take away this columbus day, no bones on dislpay,

she worked the library on the swing shift and was walking to her car as we crashed toward the sidewalk. Schoolmarm parked out by the river, her Camry soaked in sleet.

didja see that? a hundred dollar guitar? pawn shops turn my head as i shop for sunglasses again and again.

no mail today.
 
So I begin, and if you are confused by the idea, well, then maybe all the better.

:)

Nothing wrong with a little confusion. It keeps the day bumpy like a roller coaster or these pock-marked roads. Jesus, how fast can you go when every five feet the blacktop drops into cracks and gapes, chapters of last winter? But at least not so cold tonight, just rain misty. Pitch dark so early. Who can see that skinny English bastard anyway, flapping after the Love Baron with a wallet in his hand? It was worth it though, even going back after such a long day to that warm place, pumpkin walls and African art, wood shine everywhere and him, warm too, behind the accent and narrowed eyes.

Bollocks the wallet and the keys and the lighters. Always wandering off or falling out those pants that clank and drop change until I feel like Gretl, following a trail of dimes and nickels instead of bread.
 
Poetic prose? glared the muse.
Without structure, can we ever again coax a sonnet or expect to nurse a twinkling inkling to a full fledged moving verse?
damndest thing I ever heard ... letting poets ramble outside the law.

---

It's akin to a full pot of coffee in the morning. Lord knows no one needs more than a cup or two to wake up, but if the pots gets made, then it gets drunk. Drunk. Yeah, that's what happens all right when the bourbon bottle moves from the cupboard to the bottom desk drawer. Available sins.

---

(If this thread was stock, I'd buy it. It's going to grow. big :D )
 
It wasn't a lake, nor was it a bay, but as she prattled in woolish garb all spangled with dew, she knew it was the water, the tiny unrelenting waves coming and coming like the falling apples across the glade and leading down to the low tide at dawn. She knew things that she kept mainly in the ribcage.

It was as if only half the sun decided to come over the eastern roundtops that morning. Meanwhile, his back ached from too much sleep and the dreams that were stored in the garage like wheelbarrows full of some other soil, a dark mix of aged mossy rememberings, vitamin dirt and enriched materials.

Twenty bucks was the buy in, and the cards were humid and the shuffling hard. "Those lads were like clay in my hands, that i couldn't wash off, could not disperse. That ace high full house. Set them off mumbling. Good egg."

"Glad to hear they came finally. I slept too much. You can buy me dinner with your winnings, but not tonight. Im American. Remember that, would ya?"
 
By the waters edge stricken with dew as the lads shuffled for the one eyed jack, I rambled, chatted Pissy Tad. She was cranky sad and stewed in bile at two boppers. They called her "Gramma".

"Damned teeny sluts think camel toes are some new fashion."

She forgets the golden age when... nevermind drifts back to shuffle and the way the deck gets stacked and axed. Who knew that eggs were bad. Codfish gone to pieces all and what ever happened to that lonely turkey, gobbled maybe. Damned it's late.
 
pedal steel and his apartment all tidy and I'm listening, mainly I just listen.

"Listen here bloke, socks up and chinwhiskers and bootstraps now, not later, now."

I listened. "My turn, this music makes me sad." Curved like a lute, the vision of the leaning and the six string, curved for a lonesome fit, a lap, dusky light and I need a magnifying glass to see the next. The next.

"Oh fuck squid, you are so predictable. "

I choose one of my favorites, minor sound, "can I have one of your smokes?" This one has quarters in my machine, sadder still,
blues hung in hues, light grey, the middling water and the deep blue.

"Shake it off mate."

The deeper blue.
 
OT said:
Poetic prose? glared the muse.
Without structure, can we ever again coax a sonnet or expect to nurse a twinkling inkling to a full fledged moving verse?
damndest thing I ever heard ... letting poets ramble outside the law.

---

It's akin to a full pot of coffee in the morning. Lord knows no one needs more than a cup or two to wake up, but if the pots gets made, then it gets drunk. Drunk. Yeah, that's what happens all right when the bourbon bottle moves from the cupboard to the bottom desk drawer. Available sins.

---

(If this thread was stock, I'd buy it. It's going to grow. big :D )
Click to expand...

Incorporated in here the imdemnification of gang bangers and stockholders, I think you might be right, and that's the best, god knows I love to here, and hear the straight edge, right,suggested or commented because Im a lonesome listener, so talk, you.

"Do you want some crackers?"

"No thanks, can I pick the next one too?"

"Squid, your a pain in the ass."
 
wtf? they told me lsd made my words mean nothing... was someone jerkin my chain?

:nana:
 
BooMerengue said:
wtf? they told me lsd made my words mean nothing... was someone jerkin my chain?

:nana:
Click to expand...


trying to ride cows up above the high school at midnight under a 3/4 moon.

lol

"you did not Squid???

Oh yeah, me and the lads.
 
"Your problem mate, is that you never get out anymore."

Well then, I drift off now, the couch is swallowing me. We screwed the legs on ass backwards during the move.

It doesn't matter.

"Is that the pile of money from last night?."

"Damn straight spanky," he gloated and the accent got thick like a rail road tie, creosoted, spiked down like adoption across the badlands and the Opium skeletons lay just below the dirt in the gold rush chinese camps.
 
Luna round as a quarter tonight, tonight, the first thing noticed in a briefcased walk out to the blue car.

"Is this a tribute album, mate?"

"jayzus, you cant tell the difference Chezzy?"

"listen to that."

He calls me squid and I call him squint, and we often seem like the same person.

"So the day was good? Working boy?"

I just give him a glare.
 
Ice on the stairs, fuck, sure to slide right off and crack my grape. Sooner or later. "So your'e movin to the mountains, huh? All the crackers and Pentecostals. I dunno squid."

"Shaddup smart ass."

The 4 by slid up 95 then left and west. I daydreamed about that all day. The mountains.
 
You know what, eagleyez, I was thinking about trying this out, but then I got to thinking What if I tried to write something that makes no dayum sense and then what if I came up with something that made no sense and people think that this is the way I think, which it is... well sometimes it is and other times it isn't because I can come up with some decent words and put them together to form sentences if I wanted to, but then there is the problem of wanting to and then if I wanted to and decided to put it all out there what if it made sense to me and me alone and to nobody else and then those people would come back to me wondering what in da hayell were you thinking, gina, then I would have to say, "Well, you read it so you know what I was thinking," and they would go, "Well, no I don't understand what you were thinking or else I would have not asked," and then I would have to think in the back of my mind, Hey, it's english and you should be able to read it and the big secret would come out: I make no sense, which frankly, even though I would know it and everyone that read it would know it, I would rather hide from myself, thankyouverymuch...
:eek: :confused: :( :eek:
 
Ice every where like silly dying old men not wanting to let go and then just when the sun came out from behind a cloud the air vibrated me awake.

"...crackers and Pentecostals. I dunno squid."

"Shaddup smart ass."

I thought they were rather cute in a shabby sort of way but then I smelt fresh poo and the ground slid out from under me. Dammit. And I just washed this morning.


(How's that? Going the right direction here?)
 
I thought I wanted it until it was there and the chill in my belly spread to my head. It wasn't like frostbite cold; It was more like the Sunday morning shakes that make you feel all scared and full of repent.
 
But what was there to repent for? Far as I was concerned I didn't do nuttin.

Kinda made me wonder what was in it to make me feel so fuzzy cold, other than the ice. Got up and kept walkin, starin at the grey ground and piles of dirty mushy snow and filth and that was how I walked right into him, nasty old hornrimmed bugger.
 
Repentance isn't all that.

I can hear those gasps. Sister Helen and that old bat of a principal, whatever her name had been, would've had bloody cows at the very thought. Which would be good for them,y'know? Show some proper, humble emotions instead of those frozen half-smiles like extras in a stage production of "The Sound of Music".

I can see the pair of them.

"You must be sorry for this."
"You must be sorry for that."

Sorry my friggin' ass...them standing in heavy starched habits, rulers in hand, nails drumming on the desk top waiting an excuse to go 'cross the blackboard...SCREEEEEEEEE!!!

I'm jus' sorry I didn't have the balls...literally, almost, being only in second grade...to slapped the stupid bitch back.

Although, I did laugh when she was out shuffling along the icy sidewalk. Puffs of vapor before her mouth...sleet and fallen snow bright against her...more off a penguin than ever...until she slipped and fell to her back...legs kicking like Gregor Samsa...

Boy, did I laugh.
 
"Whatrya, deef? Damn kids" and he was shuffling off out of my daydream of nunnery kicking on her back like a bug waiting to be squashed. And I didn't even have a chance to say anything.

I really detest old people. They smell, and they're rude.

Likely to tell me I need to go to confessional, as though going every other month wasn't enough. Too much, really.

Course she wouldn't agree with me. She took it to heart, all this religion. Only reason I go at all's for her, hoping maybe she sees me.

She's one of the only ones I ever seem to miss. That and the mountains.
 
average gina said:
You know what, eagleyez, I was thinking about trying this out, but then I got to thinking What if I tried to write something that makes no dayum sense and then what if I came up with something that made no sense and people think that this is the way I think, which it is... well sometimes it is and other times it isn't because I can come up with some decent words and put them together to form sentences if I wanted to, but then there is the problem of wanting to and then if I wanted to and decided to put it all out there what if it made sense to me and me alone and to nobody else and then those people would come back to me wondering what in da hayell were you thinking, gina, then I would have to say, "Well, you read it so you know what I was thinking," and they would go, "Well, no I don't understand what you were thinking or else I would have not asked," and then I would have to think in the back of my mind, Hey, it's english and you should be able to read it and the big secret would come out: I make no sense, which frankly, even though I would know it and everyone that read it would know it, I would rather hide from myself, thankyouverymuch...
:eek: :confused: :( :eek:
Click to expand...


The notion of the palimsest, or edifice, built of vague twinings of both pressure treated and hand hewn lumbers, nailed together like misunderstandings, becomes the most obvious of non things, structured and stunted like some Cypress, meant to grow 100 feet and yet, look, its flat-topped and ancient because by chance, by chance, it got born on the colder coast. By chance it gets a name, and form, and a discipline, of course then some history, and dreams of its own.

Memory both chips away at it and builds it. The boldest of storms and the deadest of calms, built, erected, an artifice, both harmonic and atonal,
discovered then for its beauty and suddenly it falls.

"You act like some bloomin monk Squid, come join the lads and bring a twenty and buy in."

"Only if you tell me about Lily. Do you think you are the only miser in town? I might just come out of this ocean for that."

"Bastard!! Dont get me started on Lil. Bets up, someone didnt anty up, who's missing, pay attention boys, the game demands your damned attention."
 
Predictably we walked into town, riverside, all gloved and scarfed and I implore "slow down, are you headed for a fire.?"

"Sorry, working boy, gramps, come along now."

"So get this. I had this dream, Im milling around with her..."

"Who?"

So the dream was vague but it was on outdoor party and food was around and tables and flocks of people and Im with her and it feels like the old days and I see theres a band playing and we amble up thru to see, and as we get closer she sort of shrieks a bit and I look and see that damned, if it wasnt me at about 23 playing bass in the band and I just stop and freeze and the song ends, and the group takes a break and I walk up to myself and myself recognizes me and we start talking. My hair was dark and long and draped across my face and I cleared it back and looked at myself with buzzed short grayish hair, all gone atop, and she just walked away and I talked to myself and myself kept talking back to myself and then she came back over and started talking to young myself and grabbed my arm and I quivered and woke up.

"Fuckin A mate, walk faster."
 
Woke up and coughed out a dream. West Side Story was playing, like a soundtrack (there's always a soundtrack), but recollection beyond that is vague. Just in the car again and you saying "Fuck! It's not supposed to do that. It's goes right from number 1 to number 9." Number 9. I told somebody I could write a parody of that but what a waste of time. It makes more sense to go from Gimme Shelter straight to Let it Bleed.

There's ice everywhere, but the promise of a frame and he says "I know what to do."
 
a wheelbarow full of apples and I thought they were potatoes in the charcoal roundmoon northern sky, just forms all colorless and the Bates motel has 2 visitors, pick ups with 4 wheelers stuffed in the back, and I wonder why you never called and I need all the information anyway. A good rogering eh? Slap my knee on that one. So I dedicate the country fucks from New York to you Squint.
 
We both fell in the bed and bounced back up just like we had been screwed and had to quickly get up when we sort of looked around and then hungrily we found a boy whose buck were torn up and a fucked-up duck.
 
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