[Response to: He thought he was made of meat]
Half dancing half waiting. Watching a past great, son of dead great, moment of greatness shred the guitar like a deep deep deep purpleish moment of haze and blaze. The hipster feathers hats outfits boring….
Then I saw him. Flaky flaring hair. He used to have the longest hair. Bone Daddy. A huge fan, don’t know how that lead him to heroin. He dances with such joy. I heard he was married. He dances and bounces and dances and flances and flakes and jumps. I saw a girl put a cup in his back pocket. i followed suite, as if I was paying tribute to a god. A past god. He was filled with insane energy, extatic. You know when you see someone and you know every second that his muscles burst are more interesting then the moments you pop. Hold me!
My cup pops out. Tribute rejected. Heat, fire, blister, sweat… Melting and he keeps going. It wasn’t the heroin at all. It wasn’t even him. Not bone daddy, just the back of a cloud of familiar hair.
[Response to: Chapter 1]
He thought he was made of meat and bones but also work and what people thought when they read about the garden and the slugs and his garden and its moss or was it mold in the low spots where after the rain everything looked like it had a hole in it or like it had been shot and left with a hole in it. Also there were very long, wet stems. Someone else but not he went and was face down in the garden making an impression in the dirt and the dirt was scratching his eyelids. He saw himself a man moving quickly in the rain trying to hurry under a roof while the rain fell and he worried about some things he held in the protective breast of his jacket. Perhaps if he imagined himself a man worrying and trying to hurry he might bypass the possibility of the situation manifesting at one time or another and thus avoid being entrapped there in the rain with objects to safeguard. Particularly if he could listen or read about a man who experienced a situation he wished to avoid. Something taller but rather thinner than a cat was rustling nearby several legs and a skinny shoulder glimpsed together in a gap between clusters of hydrangea. Face straining up out of the soil he peered through the dusk and the tall wet forest of uniform stems. An animal who would not know to avoid the rain, who would look at the dirt to see what was in it, no big artifice and everything in pointed reason.