now serving #57 (next!?)

24 Nov

so now all there’s left is the in between. the floundering. the quickening. the shining. the atrophying. the waiting in the ante room before the big meeting, while listening to badly arranged level 42 on the muzak system piped in. we sit on cloth chairs stale with the smell of decay, some of us coughing, shifting, crossing legs, squishing/self-mutilating genitals inadvertently. thumbing through glossy mags. jotting down fragments in weathered notebooks. next? but no one goes in. the nurse keeps calling wrong names. names of people who aren’t waiting here. the in between: existing just above vibrating membranes waiting for some big bang to go one way or another. it ain’t over ’till it’s all over, says the old man next to me scribbling notes and smoking a gauloise cigarette. what in hell is that? golliwog he says. it’s what the brits used to call it during wwII because of the black tobacco. in some other time i’m strapped down into a medieval throne being drilled through impacted wisdom teeth by a short indonesian man in a white coat and waiting to be filled with amalgam. composites now, says some other soul, composites young man. it’s what they make them out of. the in between: idling in god’s waiting room with a mouth full of mercury and tin and silver. nothing changes but the muzak.


6 Responses to “now serving #57 (next!?)”

  1. Geoff 24/11/2008 at 3:07 PM #

    Alex and William S. Burroughs go to the dentist.

    I was going to say more, but you already wrote it!

  2. (S)wine 24/11/2008 at 3:09 PM #

    Geoff, it sounds like the premise for an entertaining little ditty. How was N’awleans? Run into any ghosts?

  3. Geoff 25/11/2008 at 11:40 AM #

    I think the ghosts may have run into me, and tagged along home. But that’s okay. Spirits are always welcome.

    I did have a long conversation, while quite drunk I believe, with Ignatius J. Reilly. He sends his regards, as he continues his vigil in front of the D.H. Holmes department store on Canal Street. (I don’t believe anybody has told Ignatius that D.H. Holmes went out of business years ago, and I was not about to spread any bad news.)

  4. (S)wine 25/11/2008 at 11:46 AM #

    Tell Ignatius they’re badmouthing him on this side. They’re calling him a “fat Don Quixote.” Confederacy of dunces, indeed.

  5. Geoff 25/11/2008 at 4:16 PM #

    I’m not too worried about Ignatius. I seem to recall, almost from a dream state, that he was telling me his plans for the following day … which involved massive hot dog consumption, and an afternoon matinee at the “fine arts” theatre.

  6. Writer77 30/11/2008 at 12:13 PM #

    Then the bad weather turned up. At the same time they were building vast camps. Razor wire enclosures were appearing in mostly uncharted areas. Leather boots, cold air and watchtowers. A slow motion silent bark from a German Shepard, lost in a storm cloud of programmed violence.

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