Note the Evil

I.

It said 6-12 hours. It’s been 8 plus hours and nothing. Nothing. Not hard or soft. Not wet or dry. Nothing. The jazz player hates the blues picker. The punk puckers up for a fight with the funkster. The classical player prods the pop artist with a sharpened cello bow. Bow down. Bow down and bend yourself over. We want to see you prostrate. We’d like to pilfer and perforate your soul. What is that droning I hear. Why is that detuned. Why is that sound treated. Why the warp. Why the skronk. Bring back the white noise. Bring down the sky.

II.

There’s usually a preferred profligacy of pathogens on the screen. Now there is nothing. Note the white screen. Note the night light. Nigh. Note the evil high on that ridge to the west. Note the puppetry of the bored gods. A lower case lot if I ever saw a sorry lot. Restore my fingers. Crumple up that Venn diagram. 

III.

You ain’t seeing what I’m seeing on the horizon of this new year.

I ain’t saying what I’m seeing on the horizon of the new year.

I ain’t writing about what I’m seeing on the horizon of the new year.

I ain’t skewing the horizon line of the new year.

I ain’t setting to skew the horizon line of the new year.

But eventually I’ll tell you, and then I’ll write about it, and then you… you will… you will skew the horizon line of the new year.

Horizons are meant to be horizontal as long as you look at the horizon in a particular way.

I ain’t looking at it in that particular way.

What I’m Reading:

It’s not just about going for the money; it’s about finding use for the money in a world where art, literature, design, and even the material things in life that may bring you joy have been so thoroughly corrupted by concessions that you need to be able to shed your sense of self like skin to find joy in it all.

— Matthew Byrd / “How Pluribus Reimagines 1978’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers for a Generation With Nothing Left to Sell Out” / Reactor