Double Deuce

Double Deucéd Masked Mannery
(alternately titled: The Thrumming in the Diver's Ears, Long after the Oxygen is Gone)
Get out of my head this is too much closeness! I want to tell you a story I don't want you to edit my facts. I don't want to edit anything! I never edit a damn thing! And yes, I make typos & mistakes! Guess what? I'm Human! I am better at making mistakes than I am at expressing myself! I don't want the voice of the internet to overtake my conception of reality! I don't want Google to know where my sources came from if I choose not to cite them. I don't want connection all of the time I want to go off alone without my girlfriend and get drunk and fall into the fire pit and have to go to the hospital and find a rash that I don't know where it came from and then I want- - - - do you know what I want? Do you know what that year or two years of blog entries about my heart my feelings my sensual bullshit blah blah blah were all about do you know? They were about forgiveness! I want forgiveness, and that's all I ever wanted because forgiveness is love! I may have forgotten that for a long long time, the emotion masked behind other emotions like laziness or selfishness or confusion! Confusion! Christ I was 23 when I told you I loved you that's practically out of the womb! Especcially as a writer, but mostly as a creative person, I must persist with a level of uncertainty about myself and about the world and and and and do do do do you have any idea just how impossible that makes commitment to any one person. Any one person is hard enough, but then imagine a quibbingly static brilliant insecurity-issues Pisces is harder, dating a Gemini is near impossibly, as there are always two of them...When I created this character the masked man who would initially step out into the darkness of the universe on his blind pantomimemetic comic book rants against girls and against high school systems and then agains the world, college, I didn't know where any of it was going I was just mad and feeling stifled and feeling feeling and now that I have found my voice I want to tell the world to stay away from me! Let me say these things I no longer feel the urgency to say because they are mine and I feel them and you computer databases can't mimic pure emotion yet, and you venture capitalists are banking on me and others like me having something to say and paying for the privelege to say it so don't count me out yet because I FEEL! Don't take me apart O Search Engine algorithm Satan! I am the defender of the inner urge to act imperfectly, I desire imperfection because imperfection is what I AM! The masked man revealed! There? Happy? If the world we're living in is so structurized urbanized mechanized that there is no room or time for error or the little people with little thoughts that everyone is having but they don't know that, confound it! I am an animal damn it not given to effective means of production or destruction. I do small things yes but I want to imagine that I am doing big things and fail! Fail Spectacularly!

Stutterredd Recapp: D_ D_ D_ D_ D_ D_
(and that's some bigass motherfuckin' titties!)

I was reading a story to Dennis Rodman because it was written in a heavy Cajun dialect that translates better out loud than it does silently in my head. The story was about a man who witnesses the end of the world in a dream that is a gift from God and he wakes up mute unable to tell his loved ones what he has seen. I told this too the dog and felt incredibly sad. We sat in silence, the fan slowly oscillating its breeze across us.

“Tell me a story,” I asked the dog.

“What kind of story?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Sometimes I sit under the hydrangea and watch the bees approach each flower so tenderly, making love to the dust and flying away. Sometimes I think about the little girl I knew, how she loved Peter Pan, the idea of a bit of pixie dust carrying her into flight with an eternal boy off to never never land, and now she is a woman and she is married and the baby on the way… bees fly away and die, their colony makes honey, flowers come and go, the flowering bushes remain, and someday someone like her will have a dog like me.

Sometimes I sit under the stars and watch the constellations recede so slowly, making love to the horizon and flying away. Sometimes. Then she turns on the light and calls, and I come inside and lay my head on her stomach and we sleep and dream."