Thursday, August 11, 2005

Jagged Skin Garden

The pincers come onto flesh and leave tracks and red scratches behind. You sit in the grass, amongst the weeds and bees and contemplate the disaster of frozen criss-crossed pathways that have led you to where you are. It is lovely, yet it hurts, the deprivation is palpable like ice cubes in clammy warm hands. The ice melts and drips onto your stained pants. You are thinking of marauders coming, Mongolian raiders to obliterate your town and rape your women. Just over the hill, the faintest rumbling of horses and then, before you know it, a full on invasion, life as you know it blasted and bashed. This seems fine, breath blowing out and sucking in, fetid breezes accruing on sweat-damp dermis, sweetish smells of death underfoot, under the flowers, leaving the living to amble and preen above ground. I make no sense. Sense drains out with salty eye goo. Plenty of rabid bland tantrums are coming tomorrow and the next day. I am heavy, like the circus fat lady, cross-eyed and goose-pimpled. I smack flies with my bare hands, turning infinity times around in dizzy nauseous circles. I don't know which life to have, I want to burrow deeply into the waspy nest in the dirts. Perhaps me and the ones I love can have matching holes of burrow to disappear head first into, a shared avoidance.

23 comments:

sloth said...

Yes, we could have an avoidance party! The circus fat lady could come to swat the flies. We could write a compendium of avoidance tactics. I have about 150 to offer.

Sushi Blameful said...

No holes match, making much digging. Many lucks digging. Most sun underneath, inside, behind, below. Only one life, Mountain. One tether to self.

Anonymous said...
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mountain man said...

Sorry anonymouses...shoo! stay off my island. If you don't like it you can go shit yourselves somewhere else. I wonder why you tune in if you hate it so. You clearly don't know any of us, our work or our lives. It's fun to be nasty, I agree, but we are having fun and it will continue that way. In the meantime, bye bye to your comments.

Anonymous said...

Anonymouses get very angry when they read blogs that they dislike. The voice of the blog irritates them and they want to slap. I can understand this. But isn't it boring after a while to tune into something you despise? We all work and pay multiple rents/mortgage/bills. We are all over-sensitive and paranoid. We all have had shows and work in the studio. This is just what happens to people sometimes. Maybe not you, but others.

fairy butler said...

i am done with august dog days. heavy heat, odiferous winds, plots against the paints and beads. Everythings sticks together and just the inhale is tiring, nevermind the ex. phew. i am challenged to concentrate in the hots, but off i am going. neon owls call.

Manbaby said...

Go Fairy, make it squish in the sweaty purple pants.

fairy butler said...

anonymouses, life is a plague. we blog as the omxycillins, microscopically binded with fierceness and valor. it is all we can manage during the days of eight. please do not hunt.

fairy butler said...

panaderia iced coffee and a talo snack. soon my pretties. soon.

hi mm! are you painting today?

fairy butler said...

tallow snack. beef tallow pastry. really.

mountain man said...

Hunt for chocolate bars instead. Buffy and Sylvia are mating in the fridge behind the sody pop.

mountain man said...

I heart beef tallow. I really wish it was more common. I am painting today, yes, then going to prepare for the visit from the family of the Uncle of Fritz-time.

fairy butler said...

syrupy. where is fabeebles at a time like this?

fairy butler said...

ruh roh. family visit. alcohol and grilling i assume? how are the relics? I can't wait to see.

Chichi said...

I am girded with replenishing micro-enhanced armor. I am ready to hunt back if only I knew where to go.

mountain man said...

I can't wait for you to see. I am hoping you and Arthur are still on for a communion. I have been busy. Seven new baby relics making their way into the polluted world. Hopefully they will breathe on their own soon.

Not too many alcohols with the inlaws...sniff sniff. But MM pie is in the making. They will pick nits from my overgrown unwashed locks.

fairy butler said...

yay! 7! I await our impending meeting with much anticipation. soon. say hi to UF. I must be off. the bug man is coming later so hot box time is cut off a bit.

Pete said...

I would just like to say to the anonymous angries that we're not all "ladies" reading and commenting on the blog. I am very distinctly manly.

mountain man said...

Pete, I too am a man. My beard has gotten so long that it has tangled into my stomach hair. This creates embarrassment as my beard is now always tucked into my stained button-downs. (I drool). I must go pick weeds for my pie.

Sweaty said...

If sweat stays for too long on skin it grows moldy. I among the preening dead above ground. I am eating mallomars from a bucket.

Puke said...

Drastic measure are occuring in the garden. I am sorry about your stained pants.

Anonymous said...

The anti-lady brigade hovers in the dwindling muck.

Puke said...

Mental illness abounds.