untitled (little white dogs pee cotton candy and poop tiny chocolate bars)
I suppose I should – It’s just that – Well, there were three – I mean, I told her – But then I was all like – No, no, listen – We were given an antidote. We were told an anecdote. My mother chose to laugh at the editor of the local paper instead of helping him not to make the same mistake twice. We were given an anecdote. We were told an antidote was on its way. The snake had escaped. No one could remember what day it was. Have you seen the image of the clouds? Did you turn it the recommended 90°? What happened then? No, I don’t think Jesus ever had an erection. What do you mean, “What about when he was going through puberty and had to go to the board to solve a math problem?”? Surely, the son of God never went through puberty! What do you mean, “But whence the beard then?”? What is even “whence”? Is it a real word? I never heard it. What do you mean, do I think I’m the what of words? Arbiter?!?! that’s not a word. Why do you keep using words that aren’t words?
I mean, yes I know what connects the band Steely Dan to Uncle Bill, but what I don’t understand is if the connection goes beyond that. Were Walter Becker and Donald Fagan . . . what? Trying to what? Predict the future by cutting the present? Let it bleed? No, no, that’s something else by someone else. But it’s not that they weren’t cutting. The most certainly were, much more so than the other band, the bleeding band, the pretending to bleed band, the groovy cover band, the so-called satanic band. But aren’t all satanic bands only so-called? Does the church of Satan actually worship Satan? I do kind of hope so. But what even might that mean, considering how Satan is an amalgam of various other gods and figures? Who and/or what might be being worshipped in that case? Where was I?
Trying not to listen through the door to a conversation that doesn’t concern me anyway about nothing, about a desperately lonely woman trying to help herself feel something again despite her nightly attempts at universal numbness. Someday a real rain blah blah blah, but surely another glass of white wine won’t hurt . . . surely . . . because it’s almost not there already, you know, though not in the same way a Himbeergeist is a spirit if you know what I mean, but in the way that white wine is hardly alcohol. I mean, you can’t get addicted to something that insubstantial, especially if you mix it with sparkling water. Oh, I don’t know what ratio. That depends on the time of day and the mood and the weather and whether anyone else is around and also having a little spritz. It is also true that shared drinks have less potential for addiction, but a little drink alone isn’t enough more dangerous. It’s a lot like if you eat the piece of chocolate cake over the sink, most of the calories fall into the sink and aren’t eaten. They miss the lips and so also the hips.
[It is three voices: one and then the next and then the third, but somehow it is also presented as a single voice, one person ranting about three different topics about which they have three wildly varying opinions. The question, to my mind, at the moment, is whether the voices should be separated or further blended.]