BIG DIFFERENCE

there's a difference
between wanting to kill yourself
and wishing you were dead

a big difference

those who just wish they were dead
- aside from their passivity -
are also cursed with hope

and gaze longingly
from the other side of the yellow police tape
as if it were a red velvet rope
refusing admittance

RICHIE - CHAPTER EIGHT (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shosetsu)

the next weeks pretty
boring basically i dont
see richie all that much
only in isaacs class and

the most interesting thing
there happens after class
when i come back to grab
this book i left behind

and hes talking with
isaacs really animatedly
like when he was in the
cafeteria that one day and
hes holding this book that

i ended up remembering
the title of because it
reminded me of a song by
the spider babies its called

-letters from a living dead
man- which sounds
really cool like a zombie
story but i dont know
why richie would be so

like passionate about a
zombie book but when i
come in the classroom
they both stop talking
immediately and richie

lowers the book to his
side and im like -left my
book- and neither one
speaks until i leave which
is weird but whatever

so otherwise i meet with
my social worker and hes
this old hippy with a pony
tail and a beer gut and hes
always trying to

get me to talk about the
day i took the gun to
school and i dont know
how many times i can
find different ways to say

i got tired of balls hits in
basketball and being
called faggot and spit on
and having my arm
twisted behind my back

until theyd pull down my
pants and point out skid
marks and my little dick
to whatever girls were
around

and he always nods and
says –go on- and im like
there is nothing else but
he asks me how it all felt
and im like how do you
think

it felt it sucked balls and
hes always –when you
say it sucked balls what
do you mean- and i just
sigh and eventually

he starts talking more
than i do and i just kind
of zone out and classes
are always pretty much
the same

i mean somebody will go
off pretty much every day
but they get hustled out
by crisis staff to one of
the chill-out rooms

with the cool lighting and
the ambient music and the
water table and the clay
and stuff and that usually
works pretty well

and if it doesnt the crisis
staff have this really
weird way of talking
where they get super
quiet

and their gestures become
like slow motion and
their voices fall into
rhythm almost

but its only happened to
me a couple of times so i
havent seen it enough to
really be able to figure
out exactly

what theyre doing but
anyway every night is
basically the same
drinking beers watching
movies playing g5
smoking weed

and occasionally ill knock
out some homework but
if we dont do it its not
like we get in real trouble
or anything

so i post on my blog and
beat off to internet porn
and listen to satellite
radio and catch bong hits
when i can

and sleep a lot and beat
off some more which
leads to more sleep and
then maybe watch a free
pay-per-view on the 52
inch

or if someones playing
madden or pimptastic 2 ill
watch for awhile a
couple times i hang out
with justin

drink 40s with him which
i think he gets from a
dorm staff and we
download a leaked copy
of kill takers new album

which i was super excited
about at first but got
pretty boring by the end
of the week and hanging
out with justin


is kind of like just
hanging out with myself
really so i end up beating
off again and afterwards i
just go to bed

RICHIE - CHAPTER SEVEN (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shosetsu)

-well what immediately
springs to mind is why are we
on the roof–

richie looks up at the sky
-receptions better besides its
cooler up here you think–
and i go

-its definitely colder- and he
makes a retardy face -har dee
fuckin har- bends over the
speaker

attaching wires in the back i
look up -its nice to be able to
check out all the stars-

richie stands up -yeah itd be
even clearer if we could get
rid of those- points to the arc
lights in the quad

then makes a gun with his
thumb and index finger and
shoots them out with a
-blaow-

i start shivering -okay so
again were up here because-
wait for him to fill in the
blank and he smiles

-were gonna look for the
mysteries that still exist
somewhere out there on the
airwaves- and taps the radio
receiver with his foot

-why bother doing all this we
already get satellite radio in
all the dorm rooms- and
richie goes -i dont

-mainly because it sucks and
its totally pre-programmed
and predictable and sterile
and theres no mystery about
it at all

-besides which- he makes a
disgusted face -i had to get
you away from that g5
bullshit- turns to me

-what was that anyway have
you had enough bitch- he
says it shaking his head -did
you think that was cool dee
dee-

i look at my sneakers -it was
just idk something i said-
and he goes on -do you think
theyre gonna like you now-

laughs -let you play their
reindeer games- and im just
-whatever richie- and i
gesture to the receiver
-where did you

-even find this thing- and he
rocks back on his heels -it
was in with a bunch of stuff
from science class storage-

i go -they keep that over
here- and hes -mm-hm you
just need to know where to
look- and hunkers down

starts fiddling with the dials
-so what did you do break
in- and hes all -of course-

-why you couldve gotten
busted for nothing- and he
looks over his shoulder at me
-didnt you ever see a locked
door and want to know

-what was inside what kind
of secrets it kept inside- and
im all -um no not at all-
and he turns back to the radio

-well thats where you and i
differ locked doors are like
a personal affront to me- a
loud squawk comes out the
speakers

richie leans in begins making
minute shifts to the dial -here
we go- and after a moment

a mans voice emerges from
the speaker deep and
resonant and authoritative

-one-zero-zero-three-seven-
and the slight echo on the
voice intensifies on –seven-
and then it goes on

-eight-two-four-four-zero-
and richie stands up and
smiles at me and im like

-what what is it- and he goes
like gleefully -i dont know
no idea spies aliens a
weather report couldnt tell
you

-you hear that echo thats like
deeper when he says –seven-
and i listen again and go
-yeah- and he goes -yeah

-no idea what that is none is
it a recording accident or to
stress the –seven- in the
series to whoevers listening
and probably writing it down

-i dont know this goes on for
hours almost every night its
a mystery all right- and i just
look at him like -wow

-if thats really all we came up
here for- and he looks down
at the radio disappointed
-well that really should be
enough dee dee

-but ill see what else i can
find to entertain you- and
hunkers down in front of the
dial and starts moving it back
and forth

and for the most part its like
creepy christian broadcasting
or sports talk but then he
finds something else melting
into big band jazz but it
eventually

resolves itself into a girl
singing and playing a fuzz-
tone guitar and i lean in -is
this like a real station-

and he shushes me listening
intently and she keeps
singing -here in surf city life
is hard no god or
government to bring me
down

-mister president yr bionics
dont work no more i can no
longer see through yr hollow
plastic eye- and the guitar
gets louder but then

it gets overridden by the big
band music which comes
blaring in super loud and im
like -get her back get her
back- and richie

immediately drops to his
knees and starts moving the
dial back and forth but after a
couple of minutes sits back in
defeat -yup we lost it

-too bad too that was a good
song- and im like -what was
it called- and he looks at me
like im an idiot -dee dee

-i have no idea i was hearing
it for the first time too- and i
just shrug -those lyrics were
crazy i wanted to look them
up

-see if she was saying what i
thought she was saying- and
richie just smiles at me
-youll never know- and i just
shrug again and he

drops back down in front of
the receiver -im gonna
switch to am sometimes i
have some luck at the far
ends of the dial-

and he starts playing with the
dial again and except for the
tinny high end buzz its
basically the same stuff

guys talking about sports or
jesus and old swing music
that my grandparents would
put on sometimes

but then richie finds this guy
speaking spanish in a really
smarmy voice and he turns
up the volume

and goes -the spanish
stations are pretty cool you
can hear some weird things
on here sometimes- and
settles back to listen

so i sit back too and theres
some pretty basic salsa stuff
that doesnt do anything for
me and a bunch of ads

all in spanish and the smarmy
guy comes back on and im
about to ask richie to keep
looking when theres this

crazy blast of mariachi horns
and it resolves into a big
stomping beat and some
distorted flamenco guitars
and richie goes –aha- and

turns it up and it becomes
like an old 80s rap song but
with the crazy guitars and
horns and the words are all

in spanish of course except
for the occasional rhyme in
english like –motorola- and
–pepsi cola-

and richie jumps up and starts
stomping around the roof all
stiff legged like a
frankenstein monster and i
laugh

and i get up to watch him and
the mix breaks down into the
flamenco guitar acoustic this
time and the spanish guys
are

rapping the same thing in
spanish over and over again
as it builds up and builds up
and then theres this crazy
blast of mariachi horns

and richie points at me and
screams –dee dee- just as the
beat comes slamming back
and i just spaz out into this
ridiculous rave dance

and richie is like
goosestepping all around me
in a circle and i start laughing
and he laughs too and then
suddenly it screeches to a halt

and richie goes –well that
was awesome- but i shush
him and run over to the
speaker to listen because the
smarmy guy is talking again

and im squatting waiting for
like the band name or the
song title but i cant sort
anything out and then the
salsa starts up again

and i sit back like -shit- and
richies all -what- and i go –i
wanted to find out the name
of that song so i could maybe

-find the mp3 somewhere and
uh you know- and richies
smiling like -what- and i go
–so i could post it on my
blog-

and richie laughs -youve got
a blog- and im all -yeah-
and he goes -sweet cant wait
to read it- and i just sigh and
he walks over and says

-dee dee if you found that
song youd just post it on yr
blog or stick it on yr ipod or
whatever and in a week

-youd be as bored with it as
you are with every other
goddamn song in the world-
and i look up at him and he
smiles

i shake my head and laugh
then he hugs himself and
shivers -jesus what are we
doing up here its fucking
freezing-

DAISY HAYES

for Rebecca


DAISY HAYES, I think about her, I think about her all the time, I think about that one spring when I knew her. Daisy Hayes and what she meant: everytime I think of her I think of the air, thick with pollen, thick with birds and bees and the sun, no hiding from it ever, shining down covering everything, breathing in the sun, the air thick and golden with it. And Daisy Hayes there, spinning with the wash in the backyard, me peering over the picketfence at her, her spinning, smiling, whiteflowered dress about her, whirling. Me thinking I was shouting, “Hey Daisy!” but never really but just standing in service, watching the whirl, Daisy dancing the bloomers like a partner, Daisy blooming all over the yard, me standing hoe in hand, breathing her sweet atmosphere.

*

DO YOU KNOW, do you know how it is when a bumblebee, so striped and fat with pollen coming off its little legs like dust, a trail behind it in the air, it can barely fly it’s so stuffed fat with substance? And so fat, so slow, you wonder how something that slow can stay airborne, how it can defy gravity with a belly so huge? And so absolutely universally obese and lethargic and pollen-drunk and bumble bumble bumble that it actually slows time, it makes everything around it just as slow, time crawls in the same intoxication? That was afternoons with Daisy Hayes, endless drooping dripping honey afternoons, on and on and on and on.

*

I REMEMBER, I, one afternoon, I stared at her bared shoulder for an entire hour. She was darning socks and her flowerdress had slipped down over her one shoulder and Daisy never noticed but continued as this miracle was revealed to me. I stared at it then, greedily I must admit, the secrets being unfolded before me I drank as deep as I could. The auburn curve of it, the contrast between her skin and the brightwhite flowerdress, as it curved up and into the crux and absolute heaven of her soft brown throat, so much more so for the shoulder, so much context to place heaven, to plot its definitive location. She looked up then, and before I looked away in shyness I saw that her expression was neither accusation nor invitation, but a question: “Is this it? Is this what we do?”

*

AND WHO WAS Anastasia, Anastasia O. Loveless, how was she to Daisy, what did she mean? Where Daisy was outside, Anastasia was forever in, never to enter into the sun’s backyard for fear of melanoma, an inside full of mothballs and dust, a thin air filled with damp and piercing like a cold, a shelf full of medicines, bones full of ache, a headfull of sawdust, a heartfull of blame was Anastasia O. Loveless. Daisy’s sickly aunt, sent for Daisy for household help, for cook, for cleaner, for page-turner floor-washer shelf-duster. For companion in the bitter small hours when thoughts of those who had left the sinking ship filled her tired mind, and she took it out on Daisy, so young where she was old, so free where she was chained, and of course Daisy took it because there wasn’t a corpuscle of resentment in her beautiful veins. And every time that ancient hag would screech “Daisy!”, making her name a curse where no curses should ever have been audible, Daisy would simply look at the ground, the honey pouring out of her, readying herself for the passage into the dank grayness that was the Loveless house; and I would stand sentient, stationary watching and wishing Anastasia hell for what she took from Daisy everytime she said her name.

*

BUT STILL, I feel I owe Anastasia something as she allowed me to bask in Daisy’s warmth for an entire springtime, she allowed me license to discover what youth really was, to find how “girl” is pronounced through adolescence to rest in the ear like a butterfly and move on through autumn sadness to winter want. When the seasons changed Daisy moved on, but not without first changing me forever, no without first striking me with a great flowered hammer that pressed into an undying deifined line of pretty that will not erase no matter how much adulthood I wash it with. I remember the smudge on her cheek planting tulip bulbs, I remember her hopping from shadow to shadow trying laughing not to step on the sunshine that was her anyway, I remember the flowering trees raining for her forever, I remember, I remember, I remember.

*

I REMEMBER a day it rained, harder than it ever has then or since and she was inside all day, it rained all the darker and harder for that and Daisy stared out the window out up into the sky the entire day. I watched her through my window, her watching the sky and almost crying, breathing that sickroom smell and missing the sun and I was jealous of it, her other lover, touched her more than I did, it did. Daisy sad and held fast by Anastasia all day long, held fast by thin medicine air and mothball dust, wishing for her savior beyond the clouds that would only return tomorrow, oh Daisy the only thing I liked at all about that day was I had you all to my greedy self, no bright and shining suitor to share you with then, you sad and lonely when we were finally alone, oh Daisy didn’t you know how long I’d waited, only to despair for what the sun was in you already I could never take away, to make you mine would only be to make you less, oh Daisy, you were taken from me long ago, long ago.

*

BUT NOW, this had gotten too down, too dour, far too much for Daisy Hayes or something in her memory as if that didn’t make her dust as it is. Daisy not dust but a river, not stopped by time but here and then over but replenished, falling over itself in a rush of daisies, in time that is thirteen, in love that is beginning, in morning sunshine gleam which is birth. Is there one dip to a customer? I don’t think so but wonder if the time spent there is ever the same, if returning is more pain than pleasure. It doesn’t matter, blooming on, the whiteflowered dress hanging in Salvation Army shop windows waiting, whispering on spring wind to hurry! hurry!

*

I REMEMBER the end or what became the end, just another beginning anyway, when I finally touched her and what that meant. I heard it from inside even, Anastasia screaming at her and Daisy politely apologizing for some imaginary misdeed and I came out the screendoor just in time to see Daisy bang out and run to the picketfence, crying. Anastasia didn’t follow; outside, you see, the enemy. Daisy crying at the fence, her tears almost falling in my yard, I didn’t know what to do had been waiting to speak for so long but when she was there all the gambits in the world melted into stupid. I ignored the sun and walked to her, crying, her forearms against the pickets pressing v’s into her soft flesh. I walked closer, close, I was going to say, “What’s wrong?” or “Why are you crying?” but Daisy too too smart for that and when I was close enough just grabbed my shirt and pulled into me tears all on my chest and I nothing but instinct put my hands softly to her hair and shoulder and held her, she crying softer now and I not even thinking about miracle but just holding her and then she slowly raising her face and tearstained and so beautiful and I didn’t know my lips were on hers, so soft, until Anastasia scraped the sky with “Daisy!” so loud we stopped and she looked once and ran to the house. When I think of it now it’s sad the last time I heard her name it was Anastasia’s curse, but sadder still the one time I held her it was over the picketfence, arms held too high to avoid the sharpness low enough for adults, all too soon to become for us as well.

*

WHEN SHE LEFT it was loaded into a stationwagon and then gone, no window-fingers pressed to pledge love, no long lasting looks back, Daisy stock still straightforward and I just watched from the front screendoor this time, minor change in locales. I began to wonder if it had been at all, maybe just some dream in sun-drunken back yard reverie, but the scowl on Anastasia to me was verification enough. I watched them pull away and let it slam shut and ran through to the back yard there with the sun, us both gazing over the fence, trying to prove her existence by feeling the void, watching the wind touching the places where she once was. Through the grass and saying she walked here, through the garden and saying she knelt here, through the clothes on the line and saying she danced here. The sun and me, holding hands and stranded, waiting for everything to begin breathing again.

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-Seven)

- blank -
jammed between channels
white static noise


NO MORE: words, war, bullets, blood, sister, captor, codes, codices, enemies, lines, fortress, radio, Rimbaud, angels, heroes, agents, decoders, demands, translators, transmitters, nations, generations, translations, transcending, transmission, mission


NO MORE: win
NO MORE: lose
NO MORE: gun
NO MORE: crazy

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-Six)

Trans/mission
Big T, small m
all agents - all in
listen to the Translator
"the mission Transported
the mission Transcended
you memorized your scales
just to Forget
your sister's been taken
your pride is awakened
your work has been stolen
'How can this be?'
Your true purpose unearthed
Your cover exposed

listen, listen
destroy all missions"

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-Five)

Or maybe this:


please forgive my sieve

the only things it filters out
are pop culture pap
and the dealings of saints and angels



Or maybe it said
something else

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-Four)

Or maybe this:


Set your heart on stun
Set my mind at ease

Stun Me

Stun me crazy

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-Three)

From the radio's soothing green glow

comes a Trans/mission

a dream from my sister
copied down in code*

untraceable
untranslatable

(get out your decoder rings)

maybe it said:

Flowing from a thousand wounds
In a thousand different languages
Can you decode the secret blood?
Has the DNA wrapped around your own?

an ancient code in a chemical hand

the work it does is silent
what we do is secret

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-Two)

Amnesty International
could you please send many
finger-printy
hand-written letters
full of pleas for freedom
and civil rights
to my sister's captors
so that my girlfriend and I
can rest easy
in the assurance
that all diplomatic avenues
were exhausted
before we
went to the fortress
where my sister was kept
and razed it the fuck to the ground.

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty-One)

...

My sister's in prison

The savior has risen

The cow jumped over the moon

She sent me a letter

Just last Tuesday

Written upon a balloon

It said:

...

JASON, DON'T YOU WORRY

THE ANGELS HAVE COME TO

SOOTHE MY BROW

THEY BRING WATER AND WINE

WE HAVE A HELLUVA TIME

WE DANCE THE CELLBLOCK DOWN TO THE GROUND

-DON'T WORRY- -I LOVE YOU-

P.S. THE ANGELS GIVE YOU YOUR PROPS

...

(angel sez

-naw man, i ain't seen her in weeks

no one gets in there

no one-)

...

GUN CRAZY (Part Twenty)

You called me up again tonight
You were bitching on my telephone
You started whining about my sister
and all the awful shit that she has done
I believe that you were drinking
as you defended your position
You fed me one line with both hands
and then You fed me religion


(But I've seen you Beautiful

I've seen you on television
I spoke with your Fan Club
Your president's bitter

I called at the Telethon
I phoned my donation
I consulted your agent
He gave me a quote
Your prices are much too high
Your priests were always much too high
I could never touch them)

GUN CRAZY (Part Nineteen)

no matter what they say
my infatuation is not with death


I am heartsick with the beauty of aim
I am filled with joy at the process of loading
I am awed by the idea of gun-metal grey
O see my reflection in the gleam of steel
I am entranced by the order of cartridges
I am stymied by the efficiency of bullets
I am sick on the aphrodisiac of propulsion
I salivate for the taste of ozone
I am moved by the act of armor-piercing
I am brought to tears by flight
I am reborn by release


I want to control the loss of control
I want to pull the trigger

RICHIE - CHAPTER SIX (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shosetsu)

so i look up ah pook online
and it takes me awhile but i
find it and ive kind of got
richie on something

so i go down to his room in
the dorm and i knock and go
in and its totally messy in
there with heaps of clothes

and piles of books all over
the place and he doesnt have
a computer not even one of
those ancient word
processors

theres just this typing thing
on his desk with the paper
right in it and its huge and
shiny and black like my
grandmas sewing machine

and the sheets and
pillowcases on the bed where
hes lying are black too which
weirds me out because all i
can think of

is that sheets like those would
totally show beat off stains
but i guess maybe richie isnt
the type to beat off even
though hed be

the first one i ever met richie
leans up on his elbow and
puts his book down goes
–hey- and hes not super
psyched to see me

but he doesnt seem irritated
either so i walk over and go
–hey i looked up ah pook-
and he says –oh really what
did you find-

but before i can answer i see
what hes got decorating the
wall over his bed and its all
pictures and articles

from magazines and tabloids
and what looks like crime
scene photos and its all about
the salinas high school
shooting

and im like -what the fuck is
all this- and he looks up and
goes -oh that- like its totally
normal

and im like -uh yeah- and
he goes -why do you ask-
kind of thoughtfully and i go
–it just seems really
depressing to me-

he looks back over to me and
goes -really do you think so
because i dont i find it really
interesting and kind of

-exciting- and im like -you
find pointless murder
exciting- and he waves his
hand dismissively

-not the murder part so much
that was just kind of an
unfortunate by-product- and
i snort -oh really-

but he just goes on like i
didnt say anything -but
pointless thats just not true
not pointless everything they
did was planned

-and i mean everything i
think they even planned out
when they were gonna shoot
each other and where-

im getting pretty grossed out
-you think they planned it so
theyd end up in the cafeteria
that doesnt make any sense-

-no no i meant where on
their bodies- and richie
makes a gun with his hand
and points it grinning at his
face

and im like -oh- and he goes
-so they couldnt have open
caskets at their funerals-
and im like -oh- again

he sits all the way up on the
bed -youre one to get all
weird about it dee dee you
were like one step away
yrself-

i wince -yeah man but i
dont think it was cool or
anything like that it was just
something i did

-i can actually barely
remember anything about
that day- and richie shrugs
-fair enough-

then he goes on -but what i
was saying before was that
nothing about it was pointless
like no one notices the
importance of the date-

and im like -the date- and he
goes -yeah december first
twelve-oh-one- and he looks
at me all expectantly and i
have no idea why

he sighs -its a time 12:01
one minute after midnight its
a new day- he sits back
smiling -yesterdays gone

-too late to change the past-
and he looks satisfied but i
think about it for a minute
and go -but 12:01 couldnt
that be

- one minute after noon too-
and he processes what i said
and goes -what the fuck
would that symbolize-

and i think for a second and
smile -lunch- and richie
stares at me unblinking for
like a minute then looks away
then back to me

-okay you get a pass on that
one because thats actually
really funny- he shakes his
head chuckles -it
symbolizes lunch you
asshole

- so anyway what did you
find out about ah pook- and i
remember i want to catch him
off guard so i have to say it
exactly

-you spelled it wrong but
other than that the stuff you
told me was all pretty much
right-

and he goes -what do you
mean i spelled it wrong- and
im like -its ah P-U-C-H- and
hes all –no its not

-in the burroughs book he
spells it P-O-O-K its an
accepted variation- and i
smile -yeah i know about
the burroughs book

-but thats like a character if
you were gonna do it for real
you should have spelled it
like the mayans did- and hes
a little pissed

-what the fuck do you know
about the mayans- and im
like -enough to know that if
im gonna write some shit on
the wall

-im gonna spell it right- and
he just sighs and drops back
onto the bed -whatever dee
dee if it werent for the
goddamn interwebs

-you wouldnt know anything-
and im starting to feel like i
pushed too hard and lost my
advantage somehow

but then i see it on the far
side of the bed behind him
and i totally forget all that –is
that do you have a teddy
bear-

he sits back up grins picks
up the bear -sure- then after
a second -i dont like to sleep
alone dee dee- then drops
back down and rolls over

with his book -see yrself out-
and he totally waves me off
and as im leaving im thinking
that even though i basically
made him admit

to me that he did the graffiti
he somehow told me less
about him than i ended up
telling him about me

//again//

GUN CRAZY (Part Eighteen)

.

..

...

- my bright and shining aimless generation-

fear not for your lack of aim

the others the others your fathers and mothers

all went off way too quick

a flash in the pan before the pander

the bark was loud but the bite wasn't vicious

the fire was bright and fine

but when the smoke cleared

the mark was missed

but still They insist

a one-shot stopped a war

one day they'll know what aim is

one day they'll see you were biding your time

waiting for the motorcade to pull into view

one day your aim will be dead on

and you will let fly, my brothers and sisters

let fly

fly

...

..

.

GUN CRAZY (Part Seventeen)

Marvellous Keene, where are you tonight? Me and my girlfriend saw it on the AP wire, all lurid and red-lit: the picturesquely named Mr. Keene and his friends, all aged 18-23, went on a two-state killing spree, all stolen cars and bullets, until apprehended by the authorities - 'once they got the bloodlust, they couldn't stop' sez the arresting officer - who were these monsters that a charged officer of the law would murmur such slander against innocent-til-proven-guilty post-teens? Why now isn't Marvellous Keene's name spoken in the same reverential tones as Charles Starkweather or Bonnie and Clyde? Picture It, Now: Marvellous and his equally marvelous friends, television-damaged and numb, finding their only way back to sensation, their only path to a nerve ending jump start through the sure-fire avenues of blood and speed? Sad, now: doomed to crackle out in the failed electric charge of an unaccepted AP transmission - Where is the cult? Where are the glossy black and white posters? Where is the doomed adolescent finger-printy fanzine detailing their parole dates? And where, where is Marvellous Keene tonight?


this is what we mean when we talk about guns -
- this is what I signify when I use the word crazy

GUN CRAZY (Part Sixteen)

Let's kill our downstairs neighbors and take all their cool stuff

we could do it you know that we could


we've been listening to that stereo
for thirteen goddamn nights now
that subwoofer is going through the roof


so take my hand
and don't speak and don't breathe
and let's get it on for real and true this time
(it's just time
before everything we want is in our hands)

GODDAMN IT: JG BALLARD IS DEAD

i dont normally post non-fiction stuff on here but jg ballard is dead. him, burroughs, bukowski and (lester) bangs were the b-boys, the ones who shaped the development of my writing, my head, my heart, the reason i never got to "c" in the library. goddamn it. i never get sad about the deaths of famous people because i never met them or drank with them or talked with them, but this feels different. saying anything more than that would become mawkish and sentimental, two things that ballard never was (in his writing, at least - again, i never knew the man). but, jesus christ, he was a giant. he rewired the world. we will not see his like again. goddamn it.

RICHIE - CHAPTER FIVE (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shosetsu)

the words are huge and hard
to miss right on the brick
wall leading to the cafeteria

-AH POOK IS HERE- in
thick curvy black spray
painted letters and its weird

cuz if it was -FUCK YOU-
or -FAIRVIEW SUX- it
would make more sense and
you could just

say -what a shame- or -thats
awesome- and call it a day
but no one knew if ah pook
was a band

or a dj or a drug and no one
knows what to think really
except wtf but then mr nulles
the assistant dean comes out
with crisis staff

and hes huge but its not just
fat theres muscle there too
plus hes just kind of wide like
a wall

and to add to it hes got no
hair and creepy red-tinted
glasses and the thinnest lips
ive ever seen on a guy that fat

so he stands and looks for
like way too long because it
basically takes about 2
seconds to read but he peers
at it for almost 5 minutes

and then slowly turns his
gaze on all the boys gathered
around talking and laughing
and they quiet down a little

but they cant punk out just
cuz nulles looks at them
funny but after awhile he
stalks back in with the crisis
guys in tow

and richie comes up behind
me scratching and yawning
and goes -what did i miss-
and i just shrug -ah pook is
here-

and he brightens and goes
-oh really- and im all -you
know what ah pook is- and
richie says -well

-ah pook isnt a what hes a
who hes one of the mayan
gods of destruction- and first
i go -how do you know that-
and then

-did you do this- and his eyes
get big and he laughs -no
not at all- and i go -who else
here would know about ah
pook- and he says -idk

-but somebody here is cooler
than i gave them credit for-
his eyes narrow at me -did
you do it- and i say -no- like
way too loud

-of course you didnt yr not
that cool- and i just scowl
-har dee fuckin har- pause a
minute -but what does it
even mean though-

richie says -well ah pook is
here destruction is on the
way- he shrugs and i look at
him until he looks away and i
go -you did do it-

and he laughs again hides it
pretty good but theres a
nervous edge -cmon dee dee
do i look like a graffiti guy

-i dont even own a
skateboard- and by the time
he stops talking nulles is back
and dean cuddy is with him
and he just looks

at the wall for a long time
almost as long as nulles and
then he turns to the boys
standing around talking and
laughing

//he kind of looks like an
older brad pitt or if russell
crowe had sandy blonde hair

the kind of guy my mom
would think is hot and my
dad would just shake his head
and sigh//

anyway cuddy says -this is
incredibly uncool- the last
word hangs in the air he
sighs -im not going to ask
who did this

-because i dont expect any of
you to snitch- almost smiles
-i wouldnt if i were you but-
he looks back to the brick
wall

richie leans into me whispers
-see how long it takes before
he mentions the money he
wont be able to help himself
watch-

cuddy goes on -we ask so
little of you guys do you
know what i mean- total
silence -we want this to be a
pleasant place to learn

-and all you have to do is not
destroy it- shakes his head
-do you know do you have
any idea how many hours

-how much it is going to cost
fairview to somehow sand
this off and finish it again- i
look at richie and he raises
his eyebrows

cuddy gestures to the rest of
the facade that leads to the
cafeteria -we cant just paint
one wall and leave it

-looking like garbage- and
richie clears his throat and
says -uh dean cuddy-

and his voice is shaking a
little bit not a lot but if you
know him okay you could tell

and cuddy looks right at him
and his face is unreadable as
he says -yes richie-
pleasantly enough and

richie goes -why is it that uh
some of the rules here are
more important than um
others- and his voice actually
sounds sincere

cuddys eyes kind of light up
and he says -what exactly do
you mean richie- and hes not
pissed or confused

but more like excited and
richie says -well someone
wrote on the wall and
obviously thats bad and i get
that and why yr mad

-but pretty much every night
guys are drinking and
smoking weed in the dorm-
and you could hear a pin drop
in the quiet that results

-and you dont get pissed
about that in fact- and richie
is getting less nervous as he
goes on -no one really seems
to care

-but thats against the rules
too right i mean both things
are against the rules- and
richie is looking right at him

cuddy looks back and looks
back for a really long time
and now hes shifted into this
weird calm place and says
-so richie

-if im correct- breathes
-what im hearing you say is
youre seeing a discrepancy in the
way in which the rules are
enforced around here

-is that right- and richies a
little too smug when he says
-partly- and cuddy smiles
and says -well

-what i could do is start drug
testing everyone in the dorm
and that would probably even
things out then wouldnt it-

and guys are shouting at
richie -shut the fuck up- and
-what are you doing asshole-
and -narc- and cuddy just
smiles

and richie says something
back but i cant hear it and
cuddy says -what- and cups
his ear but then the bell rings

everyone just starts walking
inside and a couple guys
punch richie on the arm and
frejean clips him upside the
head

so richie bites his lower lip
and clips him back and
frejean turns fists raised but
richie

just grins at him and frankie
does that chest-out punk-off
thing but richie doesnt flinch
so frejean just calls him fag

and richie scoffs and as the
other boys all filter in he
walks up to cuddy and goes

-you would never really drug
test- and smiles like
knowingly -it would cost
way too much-

cuddy raises his eyebrows
and again his expression is
more excited than angry -oh
really- smiles -well see-

nulles moves his bulky frame
in front of cuddy and grunts
-i know you- to richie out of
his weird-shaped mouth

richie looks away -of course-
he tries to laugh it off but
nulles says -from before i
know you-

and richie still wont meet his
eyeline -whatever- shakes
his head and goes inside and i
follow looking back

at nulles and cuddy watching
us until were somehow safe
inside

GUN CRAZY (Part Fifteen)

While they're waiting for me to meet them, the angels, they sometimes have a cocktail or two in this neighborhood watering hole, always refuse the little weenies on the sticks, rub up against the locals - watch the wings, fella - bullshit about football, watch their backs, always looking at the door for the tell-tale hitman halo, listen to sob stories, reel out a few of their own, toss peanuts into their mouths, never miss one, talk shop - yeah, the higher the hem the better off you'll be on those long flights - wonder about the future, always sweet to the waitress, yeah, yeah, lousy tippers, though, angels.

(what are those hitmen packing? what kind of bullet kills an angel?)

GUN CRAZY (Part Fourteen)

there's a price on the angels' heads
they can't be seen around my house anymore
there's no place in Heaven or Hell for them now
I guess that they'll be hanging here awhile
the Heaven-sent hitmen are obvious
gold chains dangle down their chests
they make up excuses to come to my door
and none of them ever make sense
they stammer and stutter out some cover
supply yet another fake mother's name
and that very same mother or substitute other
walks up and treats them like a stranger again

sometimes you can see them blush under the disguises

GUN CRAZY (Part Thirteen)

Hello, Teenage America!

they wasted me
I was wasted
from the beginning
from the waist up

They had television take me out

I was set to be so beautiful
I was set to be Arthur Rimbaud
with a radio

I never asked for this miasma
of fuzzystatic forms
I was leaning on my life too long
and it fell asleep

please
slam it hard a few times against the wall for me
wake it up

RICHIE - CHAPTER FOUR (Twitter Novel / Keitai Shosetsu)

the videogame is called
pimptastic 2 and its totally
against the rules of fairview
to play it

but its also totally against the
rules to smoke weed and
download broadband internet
porn and drink 40s but

no one ever gets in trouble
for any of that stuff either so
as soon as staff leaves at
around 930 they break it out

so everyone feels all
rebellious and stuff and
giggly when the call goes
down the hallway

-ARE YOU READY FOR
THIS- in a death metal growl
just like on the opening
screen of the game

and it gets pulled out from
under some mattress and
plugged into the g5 which is
attached to the 52 inch
flatscreen

and then theres a big pissing
contest for whos gonna play
and the two winners grab the
controllers

and take their places on
opposite sides of the split
screen while me and the other
also-rans

hunker down on the couches
in the back to watch and trash
talk and break balls and
jockey for next

this kid justin huddled next to
me both of us trying
desperately not to touch each
other

says to me through a curtain
of hair -have you ever gotten
to play this thing- and i say

-hell i never even played
pimptastic 1- and justin is
genuinely shocked

-really its great i mean this
one is much better there
werent any real cheats on the
first one except the sex one

-and you could only kill the
other pimps- and i go -hm-

and he goes -yeah kinda
limited but this ones just sick
you can have sex with the
whores or kill them and

-if you figure it out you can
give the pregnant one a
coathanger abortion- and he
says the last two words

like he was saying -christmas
morning- and it would be
almost sweet if it wasnt
completely insane

then richie walks into the
common room doorway
looks over and kinda scowls
at me and i dont know why

but the game starts with some
wukkachukka guitar and then
were on the street and the
pimps are pimp walking and
pimp slapping

and frankie frejean on the left
side starts to try and turn out
a new whore so hes got her in
this motel room

and hes doing her and theres
this colored line like the
lifeline that goes up and up as
hes doing her and

i guess its like the excitement
line or something and if you
can make her come then she
joins your stable

so he makes it and everybody
goes nuts and i hear richie
clear his throat and he goes
-hey frejean-

and frankie doesnt respond
just keeps hitting the g5
controller and glaring at the
screen and richie goes

-hey frejean not bad ever
make a real girl come- and
frankie doesnt look back just
throws a middle finger in the
air behind him

and i look back and richies
smiling now -no really im
serious you did a great job
and all but did you ever make
a girl come

-without a g5 controller- and
frejean drops it turns and
whips a half full coke can at
richies head and he ducks

and it whizzes past
harmlessly into the hallway
and richie bobs back up
smiling -got my answer-

and somebody shouts -jesus
frankie look out- and frejean
turns back grabs the
controller mutters
obscenities

and richie leans in the
doorway looking smug and
justin says to me between
sips off his 40 ounce

-that guys a dick- pauses
-but you hang out with him
sometimes right- and i shrug
and go -yeah sometimes

-sometimes i wonder why-
and justin scoffs and goes
-no doubt- and i look back to
the game and now the scenes
shifted

to some dingy room in a slum
somewhere and frejeans pimp
is beating up one of his
whores i dont know why

but every time his pimp
punches the whore with his
pixilated fist her pixilated
head snaps back

and on the audio track theres
a digitized crack and a high
pitched -oh- and as it repeats
and repeats with every punch

it becomes a digital rhythm
track like any other crack
after crack -oh- after -oh-
beat beat beat beat beat beat

and all of the other boys are
shouting some pumping their
fists i see richie in the
doorway face wooden not
smiling

and someone shouts -use the
cane- and i laugh -use the
cane- cuz i cant believe it
can go any deeper than this

and frejeans thumbs are a
blur on the controller and his
pimp wavers in position 2 or
3 times onscreen before he
reaches down and

grabs a pixilated cane with a
diamond head raises it with
both hands and brings it
down on the whores head

slightly louder digitized crack
slightly louder -oh- and a
pixilated spray of blood
appears and disappears right
after the hit

and all the boys go -ooooh-
like that and the whores
lifeline drops into the red
and im totally into it

and i go -jesus- and i cant
even believe i say it but i do
-have you had enough bitch-

everyone explodes in
laughter and justin punches
me in the shoulder and i see
richie out of the corner of my
eye

just leave without saying
anything and then frejean hits
the combination one last time

and the cane falls and the
whore dies and a round of
applause follows and then its
new players and

justin shares his 40 with me
which is cool but after awhile
it gets kind of boring to
watch it all again

and my stomach kind of hurts
and i dont really wanna see
the coathanger thing so i just
basically go to bed

GUN CRAZY (Part Twelve)

I'll join your Public Witness Program
yeah, sure, I'll testify
you put me in a new place
with a new face

I'll trade you a lot
I'd trade you a lot
for a lot like that

a fresh-cut lawn
a fresh-cut head
on a boy my age
in a sunshine-freckle halo
on a substitute
sweetened a bit
to enjoy it this time

No Halloween

GUN CRAZY (Part Eleven)

shoot it down - shoot it all down

Let's see you make sense of the void
Let's see you make sense of the hole in the sky
there are things beyond television
there are things beyond your control


I'm watching for the possibilities of your amazement
I'm looking for the chink in your armor
I'm thinking about shutting it down
shutting it all down

We've been shutting it up for so long
shooting it up into the sky
saluting its irrevocable descent
burying it quietly and politely
taking it lightly
letting it slide

-no escape routes tonight-

you shoot it up there one more time
and for once we'll stand our ground
and won't let it come down
and for once we'll be the bullies of the sky
alright?

GUN CRAZY (Part Ten)

>

>

>

I got all excited

I called in the air strike

I called it a coup

the press wasn't invited

>

The gentle rainforest

the Roman colisseum

the bhikku priesthood

the medical museum

>

The 7-11

the monsters of God

the endless highway

the river of Sod

<

The Masters of War

the Ponies of Peace

I phoned all their parents

I called in their lease

<

<

<

GUN CRAZY (Part Nine)

I was crawling from the wreckage of the USA
from out from under the Kennedy car-crash
we plowed into a concrete island
we didn't look back

Now I wear the cracked rear-view
around my neck like a jewel
foreign-born kings
bow and kiss my ring
I am America


(i am guns and cars and the superhighway
i am color and excitement
i am murder
i am television
i am las vegas, nevada!
i am sex with a showgirl

in a showroom)