Eternal Infinite Living One,
yesterday I just couldn't write you,
I stood in front of this blank page
and nothing came,
so I decided you had to wait,
just like me,
and now the words come
like a trickling stream,
the twins Anger and Fear
meet other twins: Admiration and Love,
a deadly combination,
for admiration serves as a loyalty
and it's dark side enslavement,
and together with love
they bind one to their subject
or object, and those chains
strangle all true feelings of love,
one realizes that Love is a planet,
with the whole gamut of emotions,
like hope, which in itself is a twin brother
of despair,
once one starts hoping,
one actually is despairing about
a good outcome,
terrible paradox of human life,
so I would name Love a false knowledge,
a knowledge that presents itself
as true, because it provides security,
which always is temporary,
now, what can we know?
We know the moment,
which we can experience as an eternity,
and enjoy or lament.
Stand still and move on!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I met the stranger again,
and presented my fantasy self,
which he saw as an imaginary friend,
a way I never saw him,
and what did my fantasy self say to me
this morning: loss, my boy,
is what you experience everyday,
each moment something goes,
and with it something comes,
but what that is you never know,
and the chaos of loss
confronts you with hidden
talents and possibilities,
a fountain that springs up
inside you, a water that
is alive and looks for dryness
and barren ground,
and the hard thing about it
is that you see the desert
and have to look for the water,
cool, clean water,
and look for the deepest pit as well,
yes, actually look for it,
the hardest thing of all.
Make that pitstop!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
can I thank you for my fate
and at the same time curse it?
Well, I do.
You can just go **** yourself
if you think I can't.
So sorry for that,
but it had to come out.
It's like a release of a constipation
I'm suffering lately.
Jesus, one of your friends,
once said: what comes out
is more important than
what goes in,
your kingdom within me
is being assaulted by unknown
enemies, who smoke
dried animal and human excrement,
and not a quality cigar,
well, I wish I was on this
exploratory expedition with
two camels carrying my cigars,
and not looking for your light
with a lantern.
May I pray to you again
for courage, patience and determination,
in finding the route inside me,
and bringing out whatever
cache of preciousness
is hidden there.
Jewel, shine!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, thanks for the emotional day
yesterday, like a race course
with lots of competitors,
I would like to grow old
as the elderly man I met some years ago,
who spoke to me on the street,
while I was walking my bike
because of a flat tire:
you definitely need a bike
in the city, don't you, he said,
unafraid of strangers,
smiling, with his walking stick,
and clad in an immaculate suit,
notwithstanding the sweltering heat.
Now, what I forgot yesterday:
a quote from a soccer manager,
success is a sleeping pill,
and a low point is a turning point,
and: my fantasy self had to defend
his belief in God to a panel
of scientific atheists,
which is what I stand to do
the rest of my life,
realizing that most of my friends
ridicule you,
so I am to look for the company
of believers.
Come many a company!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
thanks for my good and bad habits,
good are the fighting spirit and
the enjoyment of small pleasures,
liking getting a bunch of roses
from my downstairs neighbor
and the chance meeting with
a young girl yesterday I worked with,
but whom I didn't recognize at first,
well, the bad: I feel like a ******,
addicted to a cocktail of anger and anxiety,
a wall between me and all other feelings,
between me and the world,
angry at a small child that played
with a water hose,
remnants of a long period
of copying the image of a strict parent,
sadness that it happens,
and reminiscing the time
I lived with my aunt, because
my parents couldn't find a home,
and not feeling anything but timidity,
not remembering visits of my parents,
except one, of my father who was
confronted with the story I told my aunt,
that he always farted, so I thought
it was absolutely normal,
which my aunt disagreed with.
Well, a **** a day keeps the doctor away!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
the bubbling source under my feet
will produce something to write,
and, yes, there it comes:
thanks for the dream this morning,
in which I was back at the farm
and met with a total chaos
of events and people,
me cleaning up a self made mess,
lots of paper towels,
reprimanding a person who
took soft drinks from a table,
morphing from an old man in tattered clothes
into a young blond man
and who looked at me like,
who are you to decide,
finding a copper ring,
with a flat piece sticking forward,
fitting it on to my little finger,
discovering I couldn't lock my bike,
looking up and seeing the whole farm
renovated, a large roof on poles
over an open space,
waving goodbye to the young guy
I worked with on Saturdays,
emptying my pockets of animal toys,
and finally leaving, stepping around
an open pit,
well, how's that for a goodbye,
and afterward stumbling out of bed,
unsure of my footing.
All this after a terrible aching
of my intestines yesterday,
the smartest ***** of man,
the gut is the winding path
to God, and releases all that
should be released,
and takes in what should be
digested, cramping whenever
what has to go out is kept inside.
Mind is the Holy Spirit, Gut is the Father,
and the son, well, that's us,
our hearts, that surprise
with all their twists and turns.
Beware to be where you are!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
I find it hard to write you today,
why? Because there is so much to
say and this tsunami of feelings
makes me run for cover,
but I reappear from behind
the wall, and the words flow out,
like a counterpoint to crushing waves,
well, take yesterday, I met someone,
no, two people, who might influence me
greatly in the future, and already have
stimulated me that day,
and this morning I dreamed
of a young woman whom I felt
deeply about, and she said: you're
pivoting so much, at which I cried,
after visiting a play in which
firemen wet the players,
now, back to yesterday:
at the communal garden,
where they were serving pizza,
I talked to one of the initiators,
and his dream of starting a city farm
caught me by surprise,
and his question if I would be interested
in participating,
and later that night I met the
Red Hair Renate, of whom I've
been thinking many years now,
but I was paralyzed, and couldn't
act upon a dream come true,
surely I will see her again,
well, thanks for all this,
because it's like a wake up call
to courage, patience and determination
I've been praying for so long,
and my fantasy self remained silent,
for once, the real one
is on the hitting spot.
Swing that bat!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
the inner rain is coming down,
washing my soul,
the word that you are creates us
and we create you with our words,
gibberish maybe, but the closest
I can get to what you are,
look at our inner unbalance,
the organs all arraigned
asymmetrical, while on the outside
one sees an effort to symmetry,
two legs, two arms, two eyes, two feet,
two hands, nose, mouth, ***
in the middle,
so what we are to do is
balance ourselves from the outside
working inward, and the unbalance
of our inner world keeps us moving
toward a new balance,
suddenly I realized this morning
what my gut was telling me Friday:
through a misunderstanding a friend
and I missed an appointment,
though I am sure I had the time right,
and my gut responded with:
lower your expectations of this
friendship, let it bleed,
although I promised to ask
him for dinner and will honor it.
Thanks for I don't know what!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
it's been a few days that I wrote you,
plagued by insecurity
and stomache aches,
but now I'm back,
and this is what I have to say:
I'm torn between
intent and energy,
my intentions are good,
but the energy doesn't flow,
forced as I am to feel first
and then move,
and what I feel is covered
in the mist of my life,
with a few clear spots,
like working at the maintenance
of gardens and park,
which makes me dream
of my personal Eden,
from which I have been driven,
but to which I will return,
when I don't know,
and from which I will be driven again,
and to which I will return,
in a cycle of events
and inner movement,
I feel lost,
and only the Church of Saunology
keeps my standing,
while I'm lying down,
the heat helps me concentrate
on my body,
and slows down the mind,
which is overactive
and oversensitive.
Now, my emotional ballast
can be slowly minimized,
and maybe I can float
like a balloon in the future,
with a regular spurt
of gas fire,
an artificial ****.
Fartificial!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, apart from writing you
so little, I also forgot to show
my gratitude for all you
give and take,
that done I open the tap
of my word piping:
all is always an apple,
one either takes a bite
or lets it hang,
depending on how the guts decide,
for they are more intelligent
than the mind,
well, at least in my case,
for I can't walk in another person's
shoes, even if I wish
I could sometimes,
so I walk in my new shoes
and bite the fresh apple,
which is a visit to my mother,
whose heavy presence
resembles mine with other people,
how to combine lightness
with the heavy load,
inner feather that floats
in this heavy world,
courage, patience and determination
I pray for again and again
and again.
Let the juices trickle from my mouth!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, many thanks again for
the cooling rain of yesterday
and today, and for
the tears of goodbye
I felt welling up during the day,
even if they were propelled
by my daily fantasy of a
life I do not lead,
of an older actor finally
realizing his time has come
to stop making movies,
recalling all the hassles and troubles
he met in performing,
and missing just these the most,
now, this is the wonder of life,
that one ends up being grateful
for it's difficulties and less for
it's joys, that's the way you work
in us, because the hardships
give us more than the soft successes,
and in the meanwhile
the winds of the world breathe
a new chill, carrying
the next lessons and exercises,
and a new death with a newborn life.
Have a drink with a drop of my tears!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I bought new shoes,
for the first time in 25 years,
again I dreamed about the farm
where I worked for so long,
this time an ex-friend and his wife
were there, trying to make contact,
but I said, not now, so maybe
I will see him again in the future,
although I don't think so,
radical departures are a fixture
of my life, for better or for worse,
books are a tremendous consolation
in this period, I discovered
a writer, roaming the second hand book stalls,
a face that fascinated me,
an alien from inner space,
rocketed from the Ukraine
and landing in Brazil,
she is Jewish and mystical,
a fringe person like me,
even though she led a famous life,
in the middle of public attention,
this fringe man finally beginning
to accept the borders of the world
where he makes his home,
crossing the lines every now and then,
entering a new land,
which he leaves again after a while,
like Abraham.
Get on your camel!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
again the words don't come easy,
forcing myself to write,
well, here they come:
thanks for the relaxed game of tennis
yesterday, and after that
the meal with a friend,
who is going away on vacation
for a month and whom I'll miss,
and now I'm vacillating between
a simple garden job
and just doing nothing,
but I'm nervous and oversensitive
to sound, so I'll do the job,
yesterday I had this imaginary
conversation between my fantasy self
and a writer who asked him
about creativity: well, he said,
to me creativity springs from
the Me and You, the constant
flow of connection between
the self and it's surroundings,
and the mysterious outcome,
a secret that reveals itself in
what one does, says and writes,
and that can't be forced,
it comes and goes whenever it wants,
and the hard labor lies in
keeping up the connection.
So, I pray for doing the work,
with patience, courage and determination,
and long for the float
on your river of inspiration.
Stream gentle stream!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, I feel like a spider
that has lost it's ability to
weave a web, and falls to the ground,
and, of course, again thankful
for what you are driving me
through, this tunnel with it's
unexpected twists and turns,
and realizing my dependencies,
the necessary and the superfluous,
the ones I'm born with and
should accept and the ones
I burden myself with and should cast off,
now, gratitude for that dream
this morning: what a circus!
I'm ready for sleep, when suddenly
a detective comes in with a
prisoner, whom we have to house
for a while, not saying why and how long,
me being the only one who protests,
me constantly moving
from sleeping room to sleeping room,
no rest, my older sister lies down
in the bath, I move again,
and the house keeps filling up
with people, doctors coming by,
giving pills, visitors suggest playing
roulette with the prisoner to keep him busy,
then constantly disrupt the game,
so the prisoner wants to leave,
still more guests arriving,
finally the prisoner calms down
in front of the tv, with a beautiful
mother and child behind him,
I smoke a very large cigarette,
the garden is chock full of people
sitting at tables, an old friend
arrives in a mariners costume
with a cricket bat, and at the end
everyone breaks out in song.
That prisoner is me, and everyone else
as well.
Rattle my chain!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
well, you're waiting for my words,
I hope, and to be honest I'm
waiting myself, now, their
train is entering the station,
yesterday was an angry day,
reticent, but hard working
in the communal garden,
planting potatoes, for the first
time in my life,
food for thought,
but the anger, what was it,
I felt hampered and obstructed,
not being able to recognize
the feelings underneath,
but last night they suddenly
appeared, the small child in me,
lagging behind, wailing for attention,
the fast mind and the slow emotion,
and that attention I realized
I am now giving to myself,
which feels strange and frightening,
because it demands deep reflection,
not just thinking about the world,
but about loss, about effectively
experiencing how it is to lose
a bond with people and things,
and acting upon it, ritualizing it,
questions I'm asking of myself
that I feared for so long,
because they are answered with
more questions, and it are these
questions that steer one through life,
standing at the wheel that constantly
asks to be turned.
So, another wheel is ready
to start turning, the day is ready
to unfold, the stranger is waiting,
and so are new questions,
from him and from me,
a woman is on my mind,
for the first time in a long stretch,
will she be the next mirage
or maybe a new mirror.
Same thing!

Eternal Infinite Living One,
it's been a long time since
I wrote to you, the summer
has had it's soporific effect,
and new things have come my way,
and lots of new books,
with scraps of insight,
like, to be courageous one first
has to feel fear,
and fear is located in the ear,
and timed for the night,
because then we mainly
base ourselves on that *****,
foreign sounds and sensations
need to be addressed,
lately my heart beats in my left ear,
well, in a conversation with friends
I finally spoke out over you,
proof of your existence lies in the fact
of fiction, which is a living organism,
that changes through every new ear and mouth,
so if you are fiction, you are alive,
and change everyday,
and I realize that intimacy
is my great struggle, to open it up
and lend it continuity,
and not being afraid of changes
it goes through.
Courage, patience and determination
are key words.
Unlock my doors!

It's a balmy spring evening. There's a couch, a cigar and green tea. And there's a man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of green eyes, fuzzy redhead and soft paws. Potted palm, some ceramic and a picture frame get knocked over. Some looking around. A sudden leap and the mouse is caught. One last look around and mouse in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a candle.
Thanks Kitty. I'll call you Alibi. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a sweaty summer evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a glass of chilled white wine. And there's a man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of pale yellow eyes, bushy black head and soft paws. Potted yucca, bronze statue and glass object get knocked over. Some delicate scanning. A sudden leap and the mouse is caught. One last scan and the mouse in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a vase with an artificial flower.
Thanks Kitty. I'll call you Alias. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a sweltering autumn evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a glass of cool beer. And there's man. The window's on a crack. In creep a pair of hooded eyes, capped head and gloved paws. Potted vegetables, glass tea *** and cooking pan get knocked over. Some tentative spot lighting. A sudden leap and the gold watch is caught. One last beam and gold in mouth vanishes through the window. Knocking over a bottle of beer.
The man opens his eyes. Thanks Kitty, for not ******* on the table. I'll call you Bias. Leave the rest to the cleaning lady.

It's a rainy winter evening. There's a couch, a cigar and a hot grog. And there's a man. The window’s an invitation.

Anyone stood at a bus stop. Which way to go, to and fro, back and forth, up and down, side to side, anything goes, for the moment, an eternity it seemed.

He waited at the bus stop. Yes, there it is. Ah, driver, where you going? Depends on the course you run. Run? I want to sit. Well, sit down. Next stop is Mars Street, Pluto Avenue, Sun Boulevard, Orion Lane, eh, lots more. You going to war? You want to get anywhere, you need Mars first. What about Jupiter Alley? So you know where you're going after all? Seems like the stars. You're on the right line. But the terminal station's a lot of empty space.
Too many stars, I'm getting out.

He waited at the bus stop. Yes, there it is. Ah, driver, where you going? Depends on whom you're with. Just with me and myself. That's a crowd. Next stop is Family Street, School Street, Job Avenue, Sect Boulevard, Yoga Lane, Qi-Gong Alley and Graveyard Junction. Phew, what a ride. I have a choice? No. Well, I'll join the parade. Yeah, and end up alone.
Too many people, I'm getting out.

He waited at the bus stop. Yes, there it is. Ah, driver, where you going? Depends on the dirt you're standing on. Let me look. Part sand, part clay, part stones. Could be anywhere. Look, I stop at Rock Road, Sand Boulevard, Sea Lane, Air Junction, Mud Street. Sounds pretty ***** to me. Son, it's just like you. Well, actually I'm looking for a clean up. Right, Air Thoroughfare is the one.
Too much wind, I'm getting out.

If life's a bus, Anyone thought,  why do I have to keep getting out?
Read your mind, the driver thought, want me to do without sleep?

The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge attended a party of a wealthy friend.
He said: Why the celebration?
You got a bus load in the bank, and yet your bed costs you more than all the food you'll eat.
Why not live in a different hotel every night?
The wealthy friend said:
Scuse my Rush-un, I may be a ruin inside,
but at least I now am a high rise on the outside.
But now you have two things to lose, your money and your mansion.
So your one plus one makes two minuses.
Worry never comes singular. My high rise is royal to me.
The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge volunteered to serve the homeless a Christmas dinner.
He put a platter of chicken in front of a bearded blue eye.
He asked the blue eyed beard:
What would you do if you had a bus load in the bank?
The blue bearded eyes said:
Have a party till I farted it all away.
What's the celebration?
Scuse my Germ-un, I may be a ruin on the outside,
but at least I'm a high rise on the inside.
You're talking to His ****-All Lowness, my ruin is royal to me.
The young old man who dreamed of a bus load in the bank and a bed under the bridge got hungry and dropped in at a sandwich shop.
He ordered a club sandwich and sat down.
The shop owner brought him his sandwich and
the young old man asked him:
What would you do with a bus load in the bank?
The same as I'm doing now.
Plus give myself and others an extra.
Where's the celebration?
Scuse my Nether-Lance, I may be a one story guy inside,
but at least I'm a one story guy on the outside as well.
And that story is royal to me.
Eat your sandwich, otherwise it'll have you.

The What It Is Kid jumped into his sideswiped sedan. It felt good. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do better.) He planned to make a blast, like a rubber bonfire. First swerve, some screeching smell. Next curve, some pebble sparks. Last turn, a nice gully. Sure thing, his skin did fireworks. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

The What It Is Kid slipped into the Bar None. It felt great. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do greater.) He planned to take a bath, like a diver in a sea of drink. First shot, ah, ground swell. Next shot, hot spring bubbles. Last shot, wow, what a spray. Sure thing, his socks took a wash in his puke. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

The What It Is Kid stumbled into the Junk Food Joint. It felt super. (Hey, his girlfriend said, we could do hyper.) He planned a burial, like a Fair-O in a Pyramid of Fat. First bite, stabilizing staple. Next bite, reaching for the sky. Last bite, a highway to the stars. Sure thing, his heart did a bypass. The better it gets, the sooner it stops, his girlfriend said.

It's what it is, she said to the ambulance guy.

The Imperfectionist looked out of a window. Actually, he looked at the window. Within it's frame a woman appeared. Do I fit, she said. Fit in as you like, he said. But I would prefer you cut some corners. You want corners? How about top left? Bottom right, whatever. Hey, you just want me out of the picture.
That would be picture perfect.

The Imperfectionist sat down and turned on his tv. He concentrated on the sideground images. A war correspondent appeared on the screen. Around him, desert debris, military wrecks, abandoned bodies. Interactive question: what's that rock behind you? Interactive answer: I refer you to the company geologist.  Q: could you do you commentary on the left side of the screen? A: and step onto a roadside bomb? Now that's a perfect scenario.

The Imperfectionist was tired of framed images. He stepped outside and moved like a camera. Straight ahead a young girl approached, eyes glued to her phone. Left of her, a scooter moved onto the sidewalk. Right of her, two women loudly discussed a daughter's dental problems. Above her, a drone whirred. Below her, the pavement showed it's beautiful cracks. Skewz me, I'm looking for... he said. She looked up the address. It's right here, sir. He slapped his forehead. Oh no, that's a perfect disappointment.

Two boys loved to go fishing. One was tall and proud, but small and timid on the inside. The other was small and soft, but tall and strong on the inside.
One day they went fishing in the river. The tall and proud one wore an old and shabby coat, but had a lot of money on him, his savings for a scooter. The small and timid one wore a flashy new coat, but his wallet was practically empty, having spent all his money on the flashy new coat.
With their rods and bait they looked for a good spot to fish. The tall and proud one proposed a bet: who would catch the biggest fish. Alright, said the small and timid one, what does the winner take? As much money as I have in my wallet, said the tall and proud one, thinking so I can buy the best scooter there is. Well, the small and timid one thought, if I lose it’ll cost me my new coat and I’ll be cold for the whole winter. But if I win, I can buy my little brother a coat. We have a bet, he said.
They chose a quiet spot at the river bend and sat waiting till the fish would bite.
Soon afterwards the tall and proud one caught a small fish, but threw it back in the water. A little later he caught another small one and again threw it back. The big fish are yellow, he thought.
The small and timid one felt a pull on his rod, drew it up and noticed that the bait was gone. He tried again, but same thing: the bait was gone. The fish are smart today, he thought.
In the meantime it was getting dark. Two other boys came walking along the river. They had a mind to rob someone. Look, one of them said, two guys fishing. Let’s see if they caught something. I could use a nice meal. Well, the other one said, I hope they have some money, so we can treat ourselves to a restaurant.
Stealthily they swooped down on the fishers. With knives out they demanded them to hand over what they got.
We haven’t caught anything, the boys said.
You don’t have any money? the robbers said.
I’m saving for a new scooter, the tall and proud one said, and started to cry.
Give it to me, the restaurant eater said.
Shaking all over the tall and proud one handed it to him.
What about you? the home eater said to the small and timid one.
I’ve only got my new coat, he said.
Give it to me, maybe I can swap it for a better fisher than you.
Calmly he handed over his new coat.
I’ll be cold now.
You really cold?
Alright, take back your coat, now give me your rods and can of fat worms.
And off they went.
The two boys walked back home. One without the money to buy a new scooter, the other with his new coat still on, the first small and timid, the second strong and proud.
One robber spent all the money on a multi course meal at a fancy restaurant, and ended up feeding the fish with his puke.
The other robber went fishing with the rod and bait but clumsily kicked over the can and the worms ended up in the river.
And the winner of the fishing match? That were the fish. First they took all the bait of the two boys, then they feasted on the remains of a copious meal and for dessert they got a whole can of worms.

It's been a long hard search, but you know what? Humpty Dumpty turns out to have a brother. In the end he just popped up between the lives of so many other unknown kin.

This guy, Humpty Dumpster, seems to try what nobody, king's horses nor king's men, is really successful at. He goes around picking up pieces.

Humpty Dumpster walks and stalks the big city. Woman comes out her door. Dumps an old table lamp without a shade. Humpty Dumpster picks it up. What you gonna do with that? Go pick up the missing piece. And yo! Next corner, a milky glass shade. How's that for a short circuit, he thinks. Now wait for a real one.

Humpty Dumpster walks and stalks a provincial town. Hey, look. Sweet little frying pan lid. Heavy glass, easy handle. Humpty Dumpster picks it up. So, young knight, where's your sword, an old guy says. Eh, different game. See if it fits my frying pan. And yo! It does. Only just. Oh well, my floor anxiously waits for the shattering.

Humpty Dumpster walks and stalks his own street. Pinpointed eye. Like this thing asks to be seen. Deep wooden frame, ceramic head with fish on top, broken off tail sits with it. Humpty Dumpster picks it up. Mister, it's a throwaway, it's *****, you get sick, a young girl says. Maybe I'll be sick, but this thing is gonna be better. Glue the tail back on, surround it with animal figurines. Bad art is easy as a good ****.

Humpty Dumpty calls his brother. What's I'm hearing? You picking up pieces? Try picking up mine. Yeah, can do. But you gonna look older and not gonna be the old you. Who cares, Egghead.

A man was walking through a forest and a fierce wind was blowing.
He had trouble keeping his balance.
Suddenly he meets a spider hanging in a bush.
The spider gently swayed with the wind.
He asked the spider: Tell me, how do you keep your balance in this fierce wind?
The spider said: It's my web. I'm connected with everything that surrounds me.
The man: But I don't have a web.
Yes you do, said the spider.
You have a mind that can connect you with your surroundings. Try it.
The man imagined his own web and stood perfectly balanced.
Thank you, spider, he said.
Don't thank me, said the spider.
You did it yourself.

The Sky Butcher levitated to his Cumulus Mall. Picked up a chuck of air, seasoned it with cloud, sprinkled it with breeze. No chopping, no flattening.

In walked a customer. (Thought I cut some figure.) What's it gonna be? Looking for something to **** in. Well, got you a real soft Pigeon Breath. This one's gonna stay flapping inside you. Zoots me, I gotta fly.

In walked another customer. (Thought I knew my cuts of heat.) What's it gonna be? Looking for something to ******* away. Well, got you a prime T-Bone Twister. You'll never be found again. Pack it in, I'm packing up.

In walked yet another customer. (Thought I knew my meat & greet.) What's it gonna be? Looking for a smell that puts me unconcho. Well, got you some tender little Southpaw. Phoooo! I'm gone already.

Blasta, the Sky Butcher said to himself, I'm heavytating back to the flats. My meat's getting thin up here.

On his way home he saw a truck passing. Oxy-Gen, it said on the side. Genetically modified air, new to me. Gotta get me some second wind first thing tomorrow.

A  guy wakes up one morning and decides he wants to be immortal.
He’s healthy, well to do, reasonably handsome and extremely unsatisfied.
Thru Insta, Tiktok, Facebook and a chain smoking friend he learns of a firm offering immortality.
Welcome, says the Immortician, you’re at the right place.
My TomTom told me so too.
How does this work and how much does it cost?
There are three stages, each increasing in intensity and in costs.
First stage amounts to 1499 USD.
This is rekindling your lusts.
How do I do that?
Unfortunately, our method leaves you entirely to your own devices.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, what did you experience?
Well, I pursued many a lust, but that resulted in osteoarthritis of the hip.
Excellent. Now for the second stage.
Your imagination needs to run away with you.
How?
Unfortunately our method leaves it entirely up to your own fantasy.
And the costs?
3000 USD.
Can I pay by installment?
Naturally, the term is infinite.
By the way, the guy says, you yourself look younger than three weeks ago.
Your efforts are our gain.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, how was the run?
Well, my imagination is in overdrive, no sensible thought in my head, but I did develop a migraine.
Excellent. Now for the last stage. You need to become a child again.
I won’t ask how.
No, the child in you will show you the way.
And the costs are?
6000 USD.
Drop dead, the guy says, you’ve become even younger.
So you’re saying you’re showing me what’s in store for me?
This is reversed obsolescence.
See you in three weeks.

After three weeks.
Welcome, says the Immortician, how did it play out?
Well, I whimpered, snacked and shrieked to my heart’s delight,
but after climbing a tree I ended up in IC with a heart attack.
Excellent, you’re dead right on track.
However, we strongly recommend a follow-up.
Costing?
10000 USD.
Hey, you’re getting younger again.
I suggest you pay me!
And the guy grabs the Immortician by the throat and strangles her.
After which he drops dead with a humongous *******.

Detective: We suspect a love making that got out of hand.

There's the list. How many items? None. So? We have a nothing to do list. Who's listing? Enter Mister Lister. He's listing to be missed.

Even Mister Lister needs to go shopping every once in awhile. He bumps into a neighbor. Let me see your list. Ah, bleeding to feed. What's on yours, Lister? I got a nobody, a nowhere, a nothing and no time. Where's that gonna get you? Somebody, somewhere, something, some time. Well, you'll steal to meal. Lister laughed. I'll go meet to eat.

Even Mister Lister needs to work for a living every once in awhile. He's got a business. Things should go out, things should come in. Money should go out, money should go in. Customers should go out, customers should come in. Lister, what you telling to sell? You got nothing on your list, you're gonna find it. Ah, well, that's easy, every buy a goodbye. Chuckle. So I'm the fellow to hello, Lister said.

Even Mister Lister needs to reflect on life every once in awhile. He's got a teacher. Some call him a Goo-Roo. What does this guy teach? Longing to belong, aiming to name, striving to arrive. Lister chants: seeking to freak, spinning to grin, fooling to cool. The Goo-Roo is a sly guy. Great list, Lister. Eh, master, it's no list. I just misunderstood. Now, that's the door to enlightenment, my friend. Oh, master, all that light's only gonna show a whole lotta dots. Ah, connecting the dots. You're close, Lister.  Eh, master, what do we get? Just a straight line.

Shucks, Mister Lister thought,  I'm just summing to hum.

Well, have you heard, have you seen?
What?
Soccer player keeps the ball airborne running.
Yeah? Your imagination, that’s what’s running.
No, my imagination stops when I see him doing it.
So? What’s he do?
Oh, you need telling twice?
Flips the ball past the defender, catches it on the other foot,
flips it past the next player.
Yeah, sure, gimme some detail on how.
Well, upper body at between 10 and 11 degrees, ball trajectory the same.
When did he find that out?
Exercising thru the bushes in the park, avoiding prickly branches,
trunks sticking out, logs diagonal.
Policeman asks what’s he doing. Go back to school.
Yes, he says, and doesn’t.
Wanted to put in 6 hours a day of ball control.
No school?
No, he was his own teacher and pupil.
Only cooked for the family.
Mother alcoholic, sisters rebellious.
Oh, so a monomaniac?
A solomaniac, is better.
But why this air solo?
Well put. You want to intercept the ball,
you have to commit a foul.
You didn’t succeed, all sorts of space
opened up for him and his team.
You ever played against him?
Eh, I’m just an observer, a sports fan, a bit of a scout.
He still doing it?
No, he’s retired. Walks up and down
stairs with the ball in the air,
jumps fences and catches the ball on the other side.
Sounds like the circus?
Guess you could say that.
Appears on TV explaining the technique.
But so far nobody has been able to copy.
What does he say?
Slightly bent knees, catch the ball close
to the ground, center of gravity low.
It’s like a dance.
And the ball is his partner?
Well said.
He takes the ball for a stroll
in the park. Kids love it.
Walking the ball?
Hey, you got a way with words.
Sounds like a lonely guy.
No, he’s got me.
How’s that?
Well, you could say I’m keeping
him in the air.
Ah, still a fantasy.
When he lands on my feet
he’s real as a double
and true as a story.

The Impersonal Trainer decided to open shop. I need a sign. On my door? I don't have a door. Next to my tent? I don't have a tent. On my forehead? Shoowee, I have a forehead, but I want it blank. Drop it, let's start up this bizniz with some buzzness.

Hey, there's a client. Watt-chew want? Oh, trainer, I'm in my head all day. Talkin' about day, you in there all night as well? Oh yeah, at night it takes over totally. You hit the nail. Let your night be your day. You mean, sleepwalk? You just graduated. Dream on, here's your money.

Hey, there's the next client. Watch-hue want? Oh trainer, I lost control over my body. One limb shakes, other stiffens? Oh yeah, one has to stop, the other has to go. Now, I got a thousand-and-one exercises. Do I do them all? Eh, that's gonna cost you. Pick one at random. You gotta force me to a choice. Force! You're halfway there. Do number 134. How many times? 134. Where's the machine? The machine, that's you. Go buy yourself a new whip, here's your money.

Hey, there's another client. Wash-shoe want? Oh trainer, I got trouble with feeling and emotion. Ah, destination arrived. Fee-ling is about being the one who pays, e-motion is about the one who virtually moves. Gibberish, explain. Shush, that's hard. Walk a mile in your wallet. Oh yeah, I'm paying everyday. Now, walk a mile inside yourself. Like breathing? Looky-here, you're getting somewhere.
Well, I'm moving on, here's your bitcoins.

The Impersonal Trainer sat down to do his numbers. One: I'm helping people that help themselves. Two: I'm helping myself who doesn't know what help he needs. Three: I'm helping the Help-Thing that doesn't need help. Ah, stop, this getting personal.

The guy who reinvented the wheel time and again went to see his doctor. What's up? the doctor said. I climbed up on my roof to get a tennis ball. I jumped down and let go of the ball. We hit the concrete at the same time. That's gravity. Could've told you that before, he doctor said. Break anything? Yeah, a leg and an arm, but now they will never forget.

The guy who reinvented the wheel time and again went to see his accountant. What's up? the accountant said. I gave a mil to a pyramid schemer. He promised me a 100% profit on a farm in the sky. Well, he was right about the 100%, but the profit was his not mine. Could've told you that before, the accountant said. Save anything? No, the lawyer cost me another 100%, but now my wallet will never forget.

The guy who reinvented the wheel time and again went to see his shrink. What's up? the shrink said. I gave away my heart to the first woman I met on the street. She said: let me borrow yours, I'll bring it back when I'm done. Promise, promise, promise. But you'll have to find me. Could've told you that before, the shrink said. Feel anything? Yeah, real bad, but now my heart will never forget.

Well, one keeps company, doesn't one? Two, three, four, and counting. And any number can sit in an establishment and order drinks. And this company is served, isn't it? And service it will be.

Any number sits in a boulevard bar and orders three beer and a liquor. The barista brings the three beer and an empty liquor glass. Don't see the liquor, any number says. Oh yeah, she says, I forgot to say, take a deep look first. I see a tiny bubble of air, any number says. Well, that got me light in the head, she says. Won't do for me, any number says. Get to your senses and fill it up. Certainly, sir.

Any number sits in a lakeside lounge. And orders two soft drinks, one liquor and a beer. She brings the soft drinks, the liquor and an empty beer glass. Don't see the beer, any number says. Oh yeah, she says, I forgot to say, take a quick look first. I see a glass balloon, ready to take off, any number says. Hullaballoon, she says, that's why they call me a floater. Won't do for me, any number says. Get your feet on the ground and fill it up. Certainly, sir.

Any number sits in a seaside beer garden and orders one soft drink, one beer and two liquors. She brings the beer, the liquors and an empty soft drink glass. Don't see the soft drink, any number says. Oh yeah, I forgot to say, take a long look first. I see my own sweat dripping down in the glass. That's my cloud breaking, she says. Won't do for me, any number says, take your cue from the lightning and fill it  up. Certainly, sir.

It's nice to be nice, the barista thought. But King Customer is not ready for the service of an Empty Empress.

Oh, Ah,
You are my
roundabout which
I round with a
minimal velocity
of three heartbeats
a second
chasing a
small guy,
naturally I mean
a small gal
but she doesn’t know it
and the small guy does.

Now, he ended up on an island. Was he alone? You bet. An island in a city, an ocean, a desert.
Every once in a while someone came by or he met this someone and they formed a twosome.
On a Monday some flotsam carried in Man Monday.
He showed him how to contemplate the moon, sit still, wait till the sunlight shone around and in him. And with the sun Man Monday disappeared.
On a Tuesday who walked up but Man Tuesday.
This guy was service personified. He saw to his every need and wakened an urge in him to serve himself. So he kicked him out, with many thanks.
On a Wednesday in came lively Man Wednesday. What entertainment, philosophical conversation. Like, see that sand castle? That’s a mirage. True, but wait till it rains, it’ll be hell-to-shelter. At that point Man Wednesday’s course had run it’s course.
On a Thursday in parachuted Man Thursday. Now, this how you make a fire. For roasting and warming. Good, let’s cook because it’s warm enough here. After the meal Man Thursday rocketed off back to the skies.
On a Friday in crusoed Man Friday. From an earlier story he knew this one was as loving as he was silent. Smile, big brown eyes, was all he communicated. And his silence was warm and cold, sweat and shiver. Like a fever. One day he canoed off to his own island.
On a Saturday slowly Man Saturday emerged. Together they grovelled and toiled. Things fell apart, they learned patience and resilience. Man Saturday was slow to leave, there was no hurrying him.
On a Sunday in marched Man Sunday. The party began, music and dance. All in worship of the Copper Cudgel, the Sacred Scorcher, the Friendly Furnace. And left him with the debris.
And who came by the next day?
Man Tomorrow. All open space, 360 degrees view, that’s what he had to offer.
Anything can happen
Anyone can come by
Anywhere you find without looking
Anyhow something shows
Anyway….. well, he goes without saying.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: What goes slow, should go fast, but it doesn't. Had a tooth pulled, it was a fast one. And then it released pain, instead of releasing of it. And that was a slow one.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something other is pulled together with the tooth. Like what? Fear of pain. The pain I tried to push far from me, I pulled closer by having the tooth pulled.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something changed inside me. First, the pain doesn't go fast, it goes slowly. Second, what is slow and not fast? Waiting. Patience is the patient's best friend.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: All suffering is becoming. But what am I becoming? Ah, get off my cloud of unknowing.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: I trust this virtual paper to pull something out of me.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: No matter, sure to be unsure. There's some surety in that. And delicate? Oh, that'll stick around.

Delicately unsure of myself, he thought. But he wrote: Something's pulling at my intestines. They know, but they can't tell yet. Or have they done just that? Sounds like, you've been pulling one on yourself.

The girl with the tooth gap looked in the mirror and thought: it looks like you've been mugged.

The girl with the tooth gap sought out other people with a gap. In a bar she met a woman with a thigh gap. It looks like you're starving, Tooth Gap said. I am. For beauty, Thigh Gap said. Your own or that of others? What's the difference?

The girl with the tooth gap sought out another person with a gap. At a train station she met a traveler with a platform gap. How's the leaping today, Tooth Gap said. Waiting to fall flat om my face and enjoy it, Platform Gap said. Why would you do that? I need the hurt to feel alive.

The girl with the tooth gap sought out the next one with a gap. At the post office she met a guy with a pension gap. Making ends meet? Tooth Gap said. Yeah, my life's end and that of my budget are closing in, Pension Gap said. Which one do you fear the most? My budget's.

Tooth Gap decided: this must be my Gap Year. I'm beginning to like my mugshot.

A guy. Loves walking. Walks over to the municipal pool. Enters the water. And keeps walking.
Look, there’s that pool walker again.
Pool walker does his first 25 meters.
Swat! Arm and leg hit him from behind.
Scram, I’m training for the Olympics.
****, you do this one more time. I’ll be limping.
Pool walker does another 50.
Smack! His toe hits a spectre near the bottom.
Scoot! You broke my goggles, diver bubbled.
****! You just popped my bubble and now I’m treading glass.
Pool walker is into his last 100.
Smash! His knee hits a soft object.
Srlsrlsrlsrlr! Goes drowning kid.
Shush! Now I’m walking on my hands to get you.
Pool Master approaches Pool walker: Hey, Maestro, try swimming.
That’s what I do on Main street.

The world is full of teachers, masters and guides in eternal truths. And the best deal is fleeting falsehoods. They know they're teachers, masters or guides in eternal truths. So they're not bothered by their falsehoods floating by. And then you've got the ones that don't know they're teachers, masters or guides.

Like Mr. Loowie. What does he do? Well, he sits and talks like all the others.

Goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure know my bikes. Remember that broken down bike I fixed. You don't remember. I remember. That bike's still running. Won't start me a bike shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't know about bikes, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, gonna see if my bike needs fixing. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Or goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure know my way round town. Remember that old shop on that old street? You don't remember. I remember that old shop on that old street. That old shop is closing down. Couldn't make ends meet. I met the owner the end of the week. Couldn't find a buyer. I can buy that. Won't start me a tour guide shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't know about town, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, gonna try to find my way round town. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Or goes something like this: One thing I know for sure, I sure had some fun working at the grocer shop. And at the drug store shop. And at the stationer's shop I had so much fun with the girls. We laughed, we laughed. No ***** tonky, mind you. I won't start me a fun shop. Doctor says, don't do it. I don't do it. People say, what you don't  know about having fun, no one needs knowing. I know what I know, don't wanna know more. Follower says, sounds good, you sure talk some shop, now I know where to look for a laugh. Mr. Loowie says, we did some good talking.

Follower meets friend. Sounds like no way traffic. Eh, yeah, well, gotta go somewhere, may as well hitch a ride. Sounds like he's selling you *******. Eh, yeah, well, they say it's good for the garden. Gotta give it to you, not a pinch of falsehood in there. Eh, yeah, well, I guess that much is true. Tell you what, he can only handle one follower at a time. Ah, reminds me of my dentist.

A man was writing a prayer and reading it back aloud. It was a call for help and mercy to God about his health.
He closed the notebook and went to a troubled sleep.
The following day he opened the notebook to write a new prayer and the prayer began speaking back.
I must have a word with you, Prayer said. You’re calling for help and mercy, and you expect this message to come across just like that. You don’t see me as a living being?
The man was shocked. I thought God would answer, but now my own writing is doing that.
Talk to me like I’m your neighbor, not a gofer.
The man took this to heart and wrote, Dear Prayer, I’m sick, the doctor says it’s gonna take a while. When will I recover?
Next night the man opened his notebook and straightaway Prayer started talking.
Who do you think I am? A psychic? I’m a stranger you just met on the street. Would you pray like that to him?
No, the man said, let me try again.
Dear Prayer, I’m in a bad state, I fear for my life. I pray I will regain my health.
Following night the man opened his notebook again and Prayer jumped at it.
I’m someone you would like to meet. Would you pray like that to such a person?
Who would I like to meet? How do I know?
Dear Prayer, it looks like I’m just praying to myself, so I pray to myself that I will
regain my vigor and vitality.
Next night once the notebook was open, Prayer said, now it looks like you found the person you always wanted to meet.
At that very moment the man’s Guardian Angel descended on Prayer and said, Prayer, get back in your book, you talk too much.

Meet the man who heard faces. What? He heard a voice and saw a face. Why don't you say so?

The man who heard faces picked up his phone. At the other end a thin meticulous voice suggested an appointment. Something to do with personal development. Check: day, hour, place. He saw a sharp, dry face with glasses.  On the day, hour and at the place he met a creased, crooked face on top of a stocky guy. Well, he thought,  personal development starts here.

The man who heard faces turned on the radio. A soft, husky voice invited him to listen to an interview. He listened and didn't hear a thing. He saw a worn, battling face with a sleepy eye. Next day he came across the face in the papers. He saw a bland closed face with an earthy eye. Well, he thought, better listen and hear next time.

The man who heard faces sat on a train. Behind him a tweety, bubbling voice told someone to look at an airplane. He saw an angelic, creamy face with a sparkling eye. He turned around. He saw a dark, plotting face with a piercing eye. Just then a predator bird swooped down and picked up a mouse from the field.

The Gifter had a job to do. He wasn't sure what it was, but he took it in hand anyway. At the start of the meeting a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient wondered: what does he want from me? Oh, just see it as a gesture, the Gifter said. Like a friendly smile.

The Gifter had another job to do. Again he wasn't sure what it was, but …. what the heck. After the first lesson he went up to the teacher and a gift materialized in his hand. The recipient was amazed: I didn't expect this.  What do I do with this choice of nuts? Oh, just see it as a first helping, the Gifter said. Make some tea and put them in a bowl.

The Gifter had a job to do. Again. He wasn't sure what it was, but... he enjoyed the feeling. At the house of a lazy friend in need a gift materialized in his hand. The friend was embarrassed: What's this? I must say I appreciate it, but it feels like you're wrapping me in paper. Oh, just see it as a kick starter, the Gifter said. All you have to do is unwrap.

The Gifter met up with his brother, the Grifter. Long time no speak, the Gifter said. Yeah, how's the job going? the Grifter said. Can't complain. Seeing myself as a fraud works like a devil. I took your advice, the Grifter said. Seeing myself as a friend pays off divinely.

A gift materialized in their hands. Why do I deserve this, the Gifter said. I deserve this and more, the Grifter said.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car waited before a traffic light. A policeman came over and said: Sir, you're a protected city scape. Don't heed the red light.
What kind of justice is this? I'm waiting.
You want justice? I'll fine you for not exercising your privilege.
Yeah, that's justice. Now I'm gonna eat asparagus.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car reported at a movie set as an extra. With a few friends he had to row a sloop. In a straight line. They ended on the cutting room floor. Well, that's a straight line for you. Now I'm gonna eat asparagus.

The Big Man in a Small Sports Car took a course in horse whispering. I'm a heavy talker. How do I do this?
Look at the animal, the teacher said. It's heavy without talking. Try it yourself. Right, that's easy. Now, don't look at the animal. And move slowly. Right, that's not easy. They circled each other, coming closer.
Then the Big Man in a Small Sports Car whispered: Hey, wanna go eat asparagus?

A man met a woman friend on the street. She cried. Her grandchild had just died on a ski *****, buried under an avalanche. Inconsolable.
He was jealous. I only cry for myself, he thought. Arthritis of the hip, losing mobility, starts my tears.
The man sent a photo of a scythe he had named after a man who had died years ago. He missed the man just as much as the wife to whom he sent the picture. She cried seeing it.
The man was jealous of her tears. I only cry for myself, he thought. Feeling a goodbye coming to his former life and not knowing what to do next. That started his tears.
The man met a boy who just lost his watch. He cried heartbreaking.
Here, take mine, he said. It’s a cheap one and I don’t have as much time left as you.
I only cry for myself, he thought. Getting older, losing illusions, starts my tears.
Well, maybe my tears can provide the birds with drink.

Door opens. It’s a party.  Two girlfriends, dressed to the nines,  leave their partners and retreat to the powder room.
You think my guy sees what I’m wearing?
Think mine does?
Let’s swap dresses and see what happens.
In an urban minute they walk over to the bar.
Male, good looking but going on sixty: Didn’t I see you two on some catwalk?
What, the dress or me?
Good question, not sure I would recognize you without.
Girls walk on to the dance floor.
Woman, tattoo-faced, XTC-eyed: Didn’t I see you two in the tattoo parlor?
Sure, dress feels like it’s on us to stay.
Don’t worry, my eyes are lasers.
Go peel a banana.
Girls find their boys.
Boys: What you said is right, music’s too loud to say anything.
Then don’t say it.
Did I say something wrong?
Girls decide to swap back.
In an urban minute they’re back and bump into their boys.
Sweeties, something the matter?
What would that be?
Looks like you went and changed.

What? The earth is flat? Then I’m a balloon.
No, you want proof?
You bet your flat feet.
I gotta warn you, parties will try to bamboozle you.
Try me.
Take a long walk with a glass of water in you hand. If it spills, the earth is round.
After.
Well, I  took a long walk, got thirsty and started seeing things, so drank a bit, and the water spilled over.
See, parties put substances in the water.
Try me again.
Take a plane and if you end up topsy-turvy, it’s round.
After.
Well, we ended topsy-turvy alright, cause the pilot started doing somersaults.
See, parties manipulated your perception.
Try me again.
Go find the largest telescope there is, look through it and if you don’t see a sign saying THE END OF THE WORLD, it’s round.
After.
Well, I saw a sign, but it said NO TRESPASSING.
Yeah, parties pretend to have secret military bases.
Heard talk about that, where they keep guys from other planets and their real flat flying things.

Man sits watching an outside film set. The crew takes a break. Man walks over and asks, Who’s the Foley Artist?
Me, says Foley, I invented it.
I’m too silent, man says, can you fit me with some sound?
Sure, what do you want?
Leather soles on wooden floor.
Done.
Man walks over to his girlfriend’s place.
Hey, quit creaking around the house.
Wrong sound, man thinks.
Goes back to Foley.
Can you fit me with another sound? My girlfriend’s freaking out.
Sure, what?
Get me rustling paper.
Done.
Man goes to his office.
Hey, what you shuffling your files for at the lunch break?
You wiping your *** with em too?
Man goes back to Foley.
Colleagues think I’m wasting toilet paper.
Can you fix me another sound?
Well, what will it be?
Try a starting car.
Done.
Man goes to his tennis club. Wins every game.
Hey, you’re like a truck driving over us.
Man goes back to Foley.
Hey, Foley, great sound.
Can’t hear you, cut the engine.

Looking for an entertainer? Birthday, moving to a new home, marriage?
Phone the Fartist. Produces funny noises and nauseous funks.
It’s your birthday. You ask for a song and dance. That’s what you get and more.
Kids imitate the gross concert and adults hop around keeping their noses to the candles. And the birthday guy? He loses gas and wins a secret pleasure.
You’re moving to a new home. You ask for an afterburner blessing. You get that and more. The new carpet gets a long shush, the walls a staccato salvo, and exclamations of wonder are accompanied by exhumations of thunder. In the end the family lullabies itself to sleep with a gassy purr.
You’re marrying. You ask for cannons and rockets. You get that and more. The wedding kiss goes with a **** and a swish, the wedding cake comes with a choking chopper and the dance is a medley of winds and bombs. At night the couple both turn their gasses on each other.
Afterwards the Fartist receives many a compliment and complaint about the stink he raised. We love your **** aria’s and **** bolero’s, but can’t you deodorize?
The Fartist doesn’t reply but thinks to himself: Where did I hear about odorless gas before? Do they want gas chamber music?
O well, what has been lies ahead of us and what’s coming creeps up from behind.

Maybe a dust bowl
burning in nature’s airfryer,
it’s not the end,
something’s crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a fire within and without,
a howling wind about,
there’s always another thing
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a flood, ages of rain
with a tornado as a premium.
Down deep it crouches
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a landslide
taking a town or two,
it looks big that’s all,
it’s the tiny thing that’s
crawling out of a hole.
Maybe a mental eclipse,
a black out, a white out,
a skyscraper crashing down,
there’s a wisp of a ghost
crawling out of a hole.

What’s the wonder of soccer?
The musicality, the marimba, the flow
back and forth, side to side.
Sometimes the ball directing the pace,
sometimes the player keeps the ball
from taking over.
But the ball doesn’t take no
for an answer.
It wants to challenge
the speed and direction of the players.
Saying, I’m faster than you,
more precise, that is if we
work together,
if you accept I’m faster,
because I’m the one who
needs to end up somewhere,
not you.
And when I do,
we’re both happy.

We have a Baroness and a diplomat. They were a team in a global organization. And they had an affair. And both were addicted to something. She to ****** and he to saving the world.
She promised him to quit and he promised her to quit.
He promised to quit if she promised to submit to a clinic after he quit his world saving addiction.
She promised to enter the clinic if he promised to leave the world’s stage.
They sat in a hotel room and she says, for the time being you can use you diplomatic status and pouches to get me the brown sugar. He said, the world saver he was, that could be great cover, for the time being.
Diplomaniak, I love you. Baroness, you sweet Brownie, I love you.
So for the time being as it was nothing changed.
The diplo haggled and joked with the dealers. He had learned the trade from his parents who both had been junkies. So he bought the best of the best. The Baroness took it for granted she got the best of the best.
Pouches came and went and the diplo covered it all up with a crazy story. About them containing samples of biochemicals used in warfare. And used by him to expose rogue states. All to prevent exposing his rogue mate.
Dealers asked him, you on the sugar?
No, it’s for my sugar. I’m on a drop of whiskey and a puff of tobacco.
But then time being as it was something changed.
The diplo finally found a suitable successor.  One who wasn’t trying to save the world. The world decided it would do it’s saving it self.
So in came a peace loving and peaceful negotiator. A man who extended existing wars and supported starting new ones.
The Baroness booked herself into the clinic. The diplo visited her every day. This time without the sugar but with a bottle of crème de cacao for her and a drop of whiskey for him. The nurse expressly had forbidden any stimulants in the clinic, so the diplo used a different pouch. He bought a large chocolate box. Together they retreated to a secluded spot in the garden and enjoyed sips of their respective browns.
One day the Baroness said, I’ve got to tell you something.  I’ve fallen in love.
With whom?
With the nurse.
Well, that’s better than being married to the needle, said the diplo.
You don’t care?
I care a lot but only for you.
Her new lover barred him from visiting her.
But the diplo found a way around this. He mimicked the voices of her family members and got her to visit him in their usual hotel rooms. There they sipped their browns in secret.
But the time being as it was one of them died. And when that happened their last words to each other were that they stopped making promises to each other.

A farmers family had a small son called Mark. The boy was forever asking questions. So they called him Question Mark.
Walking around in the yard he said: What kind of animal is that?
His mother said: That’s a chicken.
And the boy said: What does a chicken do?
The mother said: She scurries around for food and then lays an egg.
And we scurry around after her eggs for our food.
And the boy said: Why does a chicken lay eggs?
And the mother said: The chicken hopes it’s egg will produce a chick.
And the boy said: What is a chick?
And the mother said: A chick is a young chicken, just like you are my young son.
And the boy said: But who came first, the chicken or the egg?
The mother was speechless.
One day a man and his little daughter came to buy some eggs.
The boy bombarded the two with questions.
He said: Who are you?
The man said: I’m married to my wife and together we have this little daughter.
And the boy said: What do you do?
The man said: I provide food for my wife and daughter.
And the boy said: Why?
The man said: If my daughter doesn’t eat she will never be big and strong.
And the boy said: Why do you have a daughter?
The man said: We enjoy living with her and hope she will support us when we are old.
And the boy said: Is your daughter the same as a little chicken?
The man said: I guess you could say so.
And the boy said: Did she crawl out of an egg too?
The man said: No, she came out of her mother’s womb.
And the boy said: So is a womb just like an egg?
The man said: No, people don’t crawl out of an egg. But in the beginning they do look a bit like a little egg.
And the boy said: But who came first, that little egg or the mother?
And then the little girl said: Everything starts small and ends up big.
And the boy said: But what about the Giant and Tom Thumb? That Giant was big from the beginning. And Tom Thumb stayed small.
The girl said: Yeah, I know that fairy tale. Tom Thumb beats the Giant, doesn’t he?
But then, Marky Mark, who decides who is big and who is small?