déviation.

"totalement, tendrement, tragiquement."

two days in the last five get an exclamation point; or maybe an interrobang. See also: colonostrophe, quotentheses, typhoid.

chapter one: Saturday

sometime around eight, before the tournament began: dizzy. feverish. something high enough to make hot feel cold. i was already commited to play so i ended up staying until one in the morning, reeling. decent luck, but i attribute that to the african wristcharm. (thanks.)

one o'clock. don't have my keys.

"don't have my keys."
"shit."
"can you meet me at home?"
"rather not."
"can you work it out?"
"yeah. hold on a second."
"you know i can't trust you when you speak in units of time."

two o'clock. enter the apartment. darkness. three lightswitches: no, no, no. fuses blown. i fumbled around with a lighter. yanked out all the fuses, rearranging them. three lightswitches: no, no, no. repeat.

two thirty. still dizzy, pukish. no. no. yes! kitchen light works. find medicine. lie down. phone rings seven times. can't get up, too heavy. where are you? come fix this. come with a cold rag and fix this.

six-thirty o'clock. sleeping, finally. pool of sweat.
six-thirty one. awake, coughing.

chapter two: wednesday

completely alien lovesickness. what is this? heavy like a fucking fever. further punctuated by utter confusion; looking at myself from the outside. who is that?

concerts are sold out. stay home to wash dishes, unthinkingly exhausting a very finite supply of hot water.

bad idea #99345: i'll cut my own hair! should be simple enough. i have clippers. (something they never tell you about clippers is that they only work on the parts of your head where you can push them against the grain. so if you have hair like mine, which just sort of juts out directionlessly, well, they only work in a few select places, leaving you ridiculous-looking.) so i'm left ridiculously-looking, but still covered in itchy hair, which i can't shower off for fear of hypothermia. fuck, fuck, fuck.

so, naturally, i vaccum myself. and the floor. file my nails. wait for the hot-water heater. completely alien lovesickness. what is this? i unintentionally water it, and it thrives (like the late-great milton, god rest his little jacinthe soul).

in a fit of something, i jump in the luke-cold shower and get the spiders off me. i dry off. dress. run to the arab shop.

a cup of tea. beers like tiny hugs. next up: pills.

"donc, tu m'aimes totalement?"

excerpts.

"pencil me as an adventurous and felicitous cat; hardly anyone knows me better than this."

"je me suis pris un rateau
trente-six chandelles sur le gateau
on a fait l'amour sur un bateau
mais ton amour tombait dans l'eau.

"women don't say know with their hands. they say no with their mouths."

"who will be the fastest to recover?
the one who's first to find another lover."

"you'd think that these days nobody outside the clergy could make it past sixteen with a hymen."

shortly after arriving in paris last year, my hard drive exploded. it didn't crash or malfunction or any sillily such euphemisms. i plugged it in, it made a blam! and then smoke came out of it. i lost all my documents, hundreds of pages of writing, hundreds of albums of music. luckily i had copied all of the documents onto a laptop. its drive crashed a few short days later. chagrin!

"i'm not the devil, but I possess you."

"emotional insurance
the best kind of assurance
i can't spend money, but honey
i can sure spend time on you."

and all the things i've forgotten to write down.

plaqué.

i guess this is my first valentine's day alone since i was old enough to be together. for fear that i might actually not care, i spent yesterday compiling a heartbreaking playlist, beating hours of jiltitude into my tiny head. in effect, i managed to convince myself that i was still in love, that i wasn't capable of it, that i prefer masturbation, and then that gravity didn't exist. it is, you know, just a theory. no one in iceland believes in evolution. and vice versa. some lowlights...

1. Roy Orbison - Crying
2. The Smiths - I Know It's Over
3. Patsy Cline - I Fall to Pieces
4. Jacques Brel - Ne Me Quitte Pas
5. TV on the Radio - Don't Love You
6. The Broken Family Band - You Broke My Fucking Heart
7. Bob Dylan - Don't Think Twice, It's Alright
8. Magnetic Fields - No One Will Ever Love You
9. Beat Happening - I've Lost You
10. Carla Bruni - Quelqu'un M'a Dit
11. Silver Jews - Random Rules
12. Hank Williams - Lovesick Blues
13. The Velvet Underground - Pale Blue Eyes
14. Love - Live and Let Live
15. Otis Redding - I've Been Loving You Too Long
16. The Sixths - As You Turn to Go

and much, much more!

saint valentine was beheaded i think. so, in his memory, tonight we shall drink whiskey and watch the texas chainsaw massacre.

blush factory.

"object i: the bag itself

it’s an oversized department-store style paper sack with shoelace handles, ornamented with a simple white design and the word FENTE, which I don’t recognize. it’s sitting by the door when i walk inside, waiting to be taken. i didn’t realize she had already packed it. it’s heavier than i expect when i carry it to the sofa and begin to pick at its contents: everything i’d left at her apartment. “je suis une personne sérieuse,” she had told me once. true enough. meticulous, nostalgic, she couldn’t have missed a thing. not a penny i’d dropped, nor a note i’d scribbled. a pubic hair.

she says take off your shoes and she sits on a rolling desk chair with her feet propped up on the coffee table beside a carnivorous plant named after an american actor that’s only famous in europe. it isn’t well. november. following her feet up her bare legs i think about burying my face between them, about fucking her against the wall, about dirty words in a thick accent. when i move my gaze to her mouth she stares back coldly so i drop my eyes quickly into the big red bag. she won’t say another word for half an hour. i take off my shoes."

and this is how i found my calling as a smut writer. what happens next (in what was supposed to be a relatively serious work of semi-nonfiction) is that i replace the heartbreaking bit of nostalgia i had intended to examine with something far more interesting: a "sex scene" so wet with detail that it is, in fact, a more accurate portrayal of the thoughts and motivations of our, how shall i say, hapless narrator. unfortunately, i will not be posting that here. however, garbage will be available upon request. also, i might be soliciting for experiences (read: research) vital to the past (read: present) of a future smut writer. this doesn't mean put your finger in my ass. it means bring your sister.

have some class.


note: the above excerpt is from a work of (as of now) fiction. any resemblance to real people or events is completely coincidental.

fond.

it's been a long time, diary! last time i basted you with hot words was i can't remember ago.

this is the first i've been sick since the last post (one disease ago). at the moment, my throat feels as if i spent my birthday swallowing jacks, crackerjacks, firecrackers, tacks and tax(idermal porcupines). additionally, my whole body is sore, but that's probably from shaking what my momma gave me. if i never hear another madonna song for the rest of my life i'll probably be the better for it.

thanks for the mexican food, mexicans. and thanks to everyone who put on a mask of my face to scare the fuck out of me when i walked out of the bathroom. eleven evans: i swear i thought i was about to be sodomized.

thanksgiving is up the backstretch. i'm envisioning a turkey sandwich. or maybe just a sandwich from a turkish restaurant. or maybe a turkish lover. those sideburns are so sexy, ladies! god, that was racist. so in the spirit of thanksgiving, i will go into the banlieue, and the racaille and i will make smores over a flambeau de renault. if smores don't mean brotherhood (and isn't smore what those needies always need?) then i'm lost.

come and find me. bring soup.

ladies and gentlemen.

exhibit i:

effluvian sinus infection. dizzish fever. feelings of pukishness. someone dropped an anvil on my head. this was the morning of my flight; well, my first flight; well, my non-flight. luckily, the transparent glue rolling out of my nose was able to power a small hydro-electric plant on my upper lip that released a squadron (herd?) of robotic beagles to run into the forest and fetch me some ephedrine-based decongestants. once again, i said luckily.

exhibit ii:

the french are known for being bureaucratic (in fact, i think they invented the word). short story short, i got my visa a day after my airplane flew into outer space. i rescheduled my flight, like a good frenchman, about twenty minutes before missing it.

exhibit iii:

re-flight delayed three hours. to apologize for this, klm gave everyone $10 vouchers for food anywhere in the airport. the catch: it was ten o'clock at night and everything closed at that precise exact moment. unfortunately, someone slid under closing gate and got in line at burger king, causing the manager to open the restaurant to the entire airplane. what this means: 200 people trying to spend as close as possible to $10 (without going over) at burger king. luckily (again), i wasn't hungry. so I got a giant ('king'-sized) milkshake, a bottle of water, and two pieces of pie. $8.81. keep the change.

arrivant.

no two brands of bottled water are the different.

translations of common expressions that aren't common in english:

1. that makes me shit.
2. put your fingers in your ass and whistle.
3. you make me shit.
4. you can't pickle a pickle.
5. i make myself shit.
6. pig-god!

(1) and (3) are pretty self-explanatory. (5) is an expression of boredom. i think that (2), though similar linguistically and imagistically to "put that in your pipe and smoke it," actually means something closer to "fuck off." to be honest, i don't think i know what "put that in your pipe and smoke it" means, but as i sit here saying it over and over to myself aloud at seven in the morning, it begins to taste a little like "i told you so." (6) is, in its native tongue, something like the worst thing you can say. i think i just made up (4), but it doesn't matter, because this entire entry exists only to get...

...TRANSLATO-ED.

____________________________________________________

is not uses the english common expression together the translation:
1. that signs i shit.
2. invests your finger in yours donkey and the whistling.
3. you make my shit.
4. you are unable the salt system salt juice.
5. i make oneself shit.
6. pigs gods!

(1) and (3) is quite obvious. (5) is the tasteless expression. i believed, (2), although similarly invests that to "pulls out it in yours pipe and the language and imagistically," meant in fact something boils to nearer ". "honestly speaks me not to think i knew any" invests that and pulls out its "in yours pipe to mean, but when i sit here to say many times it to i loudly in seven mornings, it starts to taste little likes" i telling you so. "(6) is, in its mother tongue, the worst matter which some phenomenon you can say. i thought i have made up (4), but its not critical time, because this entire entry existence have to...

... translato ED.

____________________________________________________

the general expression reassignment not generally uses england:

1. this make the excrement and i.
2. it places its finger to enter its donkey and to blow blow whistling.
3. your excrement is isn't them with me.
4. you are unable one pickle pickle
5. if my will is the excrement.
6. porco-deus!

(1) and (3) they will be evidentes consideravelmente. (5) they will be the tasteless expression. i believed, (2), even so similar ling? ? stica and its "placed this to enter its conduit and imagistically pulls it out," in fact middle something more "if went to fodder." then in order to is honest, 4 did not think 44 knew "it places this to enter my conduit and it to pull out its" it to care for, but i sits by 4 itself proportion to under here govoryashch biggest repetidamente enters 7 mornings, starts some proof taste "i him thus thinks this." (6) they, with theirs mother tongue - casti, something the matter which you possibly thought as plokh. i believed that, i it has included (4), but 4 i do not have the value, because this entire entrance existence in order to only starts...... the translato-TRANSLATO- translato-TRANSLATO- unit.

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