BLOG HARD

POWERBLOGGING

GET READY

HERE IT COMES

SHIELD YOUR FACE

I TRIED TO GO FOR A RUN THIS MORNING BUT MY KNEES HURT TOO BADLY AND SO I RETURNED HOME, frustrated and incensed, by which I mean I smelled like incense, because on the way home I broke into my neighbors’ house and stood in billowing sheathes of sheaving, heaving sweetsmoke——————the neighbors had like eighty sticks of Nag Champa going and were rutting on a half-oval throw rug in their living room. I just stood there gaping, gasping in my running shorts as I watched them heave and cleave each other into beauty. Into futureshards. Into babes. (Fuck you????)

[ANDREW: MAYBE DELETE THIS LAST PARENTHETICAL “FUCK YOU”? SOME READERS WILL THINK IT’S AIMED AT THEM, AND WILL MAKE THEM LESS INCLINED TO WANT TO GIVE SEXUAL FAVORS TO THE NARRATOR, WHO — IF I’M READING THIS CORRECTLY — IS REALLY A STAND-IN FOR YOU. AND I FIGURE THAT YOU’RE NO DIFFERENT FROM ALL OF US, WHICH IS TO SAY, CURRYING CURRIED SEXUAL FAVORS (PUMPKIN CURRY? LOL) IS THE MAIN GOAL IN LIFE. THAT, AND THE FEEDING OF THE HOMELESS, CLOTHING OF THE NAKED, POUNDING THE UNPOUNDABLE, AD. INF.]

Returned home and, though I haven’t packed anything in my room yet, absently, spookily took all of my food out of the pantry and fridge while simultaneously preparing a pb and honey sammnitch, which I ate absently while  filling a filthy milkcrate I found on the street with all the foods, which are a bogus accumulation of things I never eat: the jar of tahini from the one time I made baba ghanouj out of my ex-roommate’s ex-wife’s gigantic, near-rotten gift eggplant; the brown-rice miso paste I bought because I want to be like Stephen Dixon, who makes himself miso soup sometimes in his stories (see I.); the sherry vinegar I bought because I thought it would give me a shot at curried sexual favoritude with Deborah Madison.

Carried the filthy milkcrate full of sherry, black sesame seeds, and unused powdered milk to my new home. Started to walk to work, began getting drenched. Ducked into new local coffee shop. Drank a cup of decaf, worked for a while. Got bummed out, got a free refill with regular. Did more “work.” It stopped raining. Went to work. (Fuck you??????)

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