I dreamed I was gchatting on the Actual God's computer, and the settings were for Spanish, kind of, such that if I typed an exclamation mark, an upside-down one would appear at the beginning of the sentence, too, even if I was typing in English, and the whole interface was kind of rudimentary, like the 1994 version of gchat if it had existed then. I wondered if this really was the default setting for his computer, and then reflected that if I asked him, he would probably say yes, even if it wasn't.
I also dreamed Juan from work had a studio where he digitally (re-)represented bejeweled Asians that he controlled like marionettes, or that were marionettes. He wore glasses like Phil Jackson's, much as he does in real life. A Japanese onlooker in an ill-fitting suit mumbled that one of the girl-dolls was fat, and Juan indignantly replied, "She is not fat. She weighs 110 pounds, and she is a ballet dancer." The Japanese guy rolled his eyes, a bit miffed, and repeated, "Fat." Also in the dream, Jenn (sic) from work, who served Tom and his parents at a recent meme lunch, was dating Juan, and had a newspaper article about him posted in her locker and had highlighted, in orange highlighter, something about him being "sexy and intelligent."
Before this I entered the Exit doors at Whole Foods to nibble/excessively sample from the salad bar, so I could be barred from the store forever or until I pleaded to be let back in, and to liveblog the entire affair, but then I saw kombucha was 2/$5, which is like stealing, and I don't have a smartphone.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
sturm und drag
I've been feeling literally under the weather; the sky hangs thickly over the earth. At work the gingerbearded sous-chef limps around, bares the black spreading on his foot where he dropped a bar of chocolate ("it was a big one; twenty-two pounds"). Soon, soon, I will no longer have occasion to explain with a wink, "The kitchen already split the order for you; this way you won't fight!", nor will a bepotted subaltern clang behind me, "Atrás mami, atrás!" The kitchen's Dominicans, having recently hinted at perspicacity in a charming Dickensian sort of way ("Hot one day, cold one day...make sick!"; "You sick? No...iss the people down here. They mothafuckas!"), vying to replace the maliens of my Paris restaurant in my heart/blog, remain altogether too maladroit and stout. The sous-chefs transcend race by amiably remarking on the similarities between the dishwashers and certain domestic animals, notably cats (Felix; in fairness, in name only) and hamsters (Hector). As this last ambled by, Chef Jeff offered him a scrap of lamb; Hector re-belabored his bevy of pots to free a hand; Jeff batted it away and insisted on inserting the morsel directly into Hector's mouth, and the poor round thing accepted like a baby bird.
Outside of work I'm a man's best friend. I run up and down hills, learn contours. I ask myself questions like, Am I losing my mind, or am I losing my mind? I can't wait to go home so I can breathe the air and the weather will exist about as much and as little as white heterosexual masculinity.
Outside of work I'm a man's best friend. I run up and down hills, learn contours. I ask myself questions like, Am I losing my mind, or am I losing my mind? I can't wait to go home so I can breathe the air and the weather will exist about as much and as little as white heterosexual masculinity.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
waiting for the actual god to update
Most nights Matt and Me sit around, blaze, and wait for the Actual God's totipotentiality to actualize into totality.
A country road. Some trees.
Matt: Nothing to be done.
Me: I'm beginning to come round to that opinion.
Matt: Did you ever read Winnie-the-Pooh?
Me: Winnie-the-Pooh...I must have taken a look at it.
Matt (looks around at trouser press, humidifier, Island of Manhattan): Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let's go.
Me: We can't.
Matt: Why not?
Me: We're waiting for the Actual God.
Matt: Ah. (violently) I'm hungry!
Me: Would you like a radish?
Matt: Is that all there is?
Me: There are radishes and turnips.
Matt: Are there no carrots?
Me: No. Anyway you overdo it with your carrots.
Matt: Then give me a radish. (Me gives him one.) It's black!
Me: It's a radish.
Matt: I only like the pink ones!
Me: I'll go and get a carrot. (Me does not move, but stares into space for a while.)
Matt: Did you ask me a question?
Me: Did I?
Matt: I've forgotten. But now I'll never forget.
A terrible cry. Matt, startled, drops the radish on the ground, then shrugs and eats it anyway.
Tom (off): On!
Crack of whip. Enter Tom and Meme.
Meme: Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Robert Moses and David Foster Wallace of a potential God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaqueequeeg who ipso facto probably hates his girlfriend who from the heights of divine Adderall divine Ativan divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers with those who for reasons unknown but time will tell are plunged in torment or Brooklyn whose fire flames if that continues and who can doubt it will fire the firmament that is to say above 14th Street so still and calm so calm with a calm which even though moderation is better than nothing or something but not so fast and considering what is more that as a result of the labors left unfinished crowned by the Acacacacademy of Metamimemesis it is established beyond all doubt all other doubt than that which clings to the labors of men that as a result of the labors unfinished of hipsters and blipsters it is established as hereinafter but not so fast for reasons unknown that as a result of the public works of Literature and the Law it is established beyond all doubt that in view of the labors of Law and Literature left unfinished for reasons unknown of flax into tax left unfinished it is established what many deny that man in exposure to swine flu that man in Nam that man in short that man in briefs in spite of the strides of nutrition and exercise science calories in calories out and concurrently simultaneously repetitively pleonastically redundantly what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the strides of physical culture live active cultures the practice of sports such as tennis football running cycling swimming flying floating riding gliding hot yoga connotating closereading skating foamrolling of all kinds dying flying sports of all sorts autumn summer winter we skipped spring! tennis of all kinds hockey of all sorts in a word I resume flying gliding football at bucolic second homes tennis of all sorts in a word for reasons unknown in Al Gore Gore Vidal namely concurrently simultaneously literally litorally what is more for reasons unknown but time will tell fades away I resume porkbelly! literally the dead loss per head since the death of print media being to the tune of how many grams in an ounce? per head approximately by and large more or less to the nearest decimal good measure round figures not a quant! in a word in a worm for reasons unknown no matter what mateine the facts are there and considering what is more much more grave that in the light of the labors lost of blackberry blackberry blackberry it appears what is more much more grave than symmetry under a cemetery wall that in the light the light so much light! of the labors lost of Avi and Eti that in the plains in the mountains by the seas by the rivers running water running fire the air is the same but better in Northern California and then the earth namely the air and then the earth in the great cold the great dark the air and the earth abode of stones in the great cold alas alas in the year of their Lord 2001 September 11 changed everything the air the earth the sea the blogosphere abode of stones in the great deeps the great cold on sea on land and in this economy I resume for reasons unknown in spite of the foam roller on the beard the porkbelly the tears the stones so sunny! so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the skull the skull in spite of the labors abandoned left unfinished graver still abode of mahbud? in a word I resume alas alas abandoned unfinished Rainbow Brite slip 'n' slide praise the Lord chips ahoy gunshot eternal slumber (mêlée, final vociferations; falls)
Tom: Up! Pig! (Meme evolves) Faster! On! Adieu! Porkbelly! Yip! Adieu! (Exeunt Tom and Meme)
Matt: What do we Do now?
Me: I don't know.
Matt: Let's go see a movie, or go out to dinner, and pretend to enjoy it.
Me: We can't.
Matt: Why not?
Me: We're waiting for the Actual God.
Matt (despairingly): Ah (Affshit)!
Me: Why aren't you wearing a shirt?
Matt: Christ didn't.
Me: Christ! You're not going to compare yourself to Christ!
Matt: All my life I've compared myself to him.
Me: But where he lived it was warm, it was dry!
Matt: Yes. And they crucified quick.
(Silence)
Me (hitting Refresh till fingers bleed): Wait! He updated.
Matt: Who?
Me: The ACTUAL God!
Matt: Really?
Me: Actually!
Matt: What does he say?
Me: ...It's just a picture of him in Heaven.
Matt: Is that it?
Me: Yeah...it looks like he needs spoon.
A country road. Some trees.
Matt: Nothing to be done.
Me: I'm beginning to come round to that opinion.
Matt: Did you ever read Winnie-the-Pooh?
Me: Winnie-the-Pooh...I must have taken a look at it.
Matt (looks around at trouser press, humidifier, Island of Manhattan): Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let's go.
Me: We can't.
Matt: Why not?
Me: We're waiting for the Actual God.
Matt: Ah. (violently) I'm hungry!
Me: Would you like a radish?
Matt: Is that all there is?
Me: There are radishes and turnips.
Matt: Are there no carrots?
Me: No. Anyway you overdo it with your carrots.
Matt: Then give me a radish. (Me gives him one.) It's black!
Me: It's a radish.
Matt: I only like the pink ones!
Me: I'll go and get a carrot. (Me does not move, but stares into space for a while.)
Matt: Did you ask me a question?
Me: Did I?
Matt: I've forgotten. But now I'll never forget.
A terrible cry. Matt, startled, drops the radish on the ground, then shrugs and eats it anyway.
Tom (off): On!
Crack of whip. Enter Tom and Meme.
Meme: Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Robert Moses and David Foster Wallace of a potential God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaqueequeeg who ipso facto probably hates his girlfriend who from the heights of divine Adderall divine Ativan divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers with those who for reasons unknown but time will tell are plunged in torment or Brooklyn whose fire flames if that continues and who can doubt it will fire the firmament that is to say above 14th Street so still and calm so calm with a calm which even though moderation is better than nothing or something but not so fast and considering what is more that as a result of the labors left unfinished crowned by the Acacacacademy of Metamimemesis it is established beyond all doubt all other doubt than that which clings to the labors of men that as a result of the labors unfinished of hipsters and blipsters it is established as hereinafter but not so fast for reasons unknown that as a result of the public works of Literature and the Law it is established beyond all doubt that in view of the labors of Law and Literature left unfinished for reasons unknown of flax into tax left unfinished it is established what many deny that man in exposure to swine flu that man in Nam that man in short that man in briefs in spite of the strides of nutrition and exercise science calories in calories out and concurrently simultaneously repetitively pleonastically redundantly what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the strides of physical culture live active cultures the practice of sports such as tennis football running cycling swimming flying floating riding gliding hot yoga connotating closereading skating foamrolling of all kinds dying flying sports of all sorts autumn summer winter we skipped spring! tennis of all kinds hockey of all sorts in a word I resume flying gliding football at bucolic second homes tennis of all sorts in a word for reasons unknown in Al Gore Gore Vidal namely concurrently simultaneously literally litorally what is more for reasons unknown but time will tell fades away I resume porkbelly! literally the dead loss per head since the death of print media being to the tune of how many grams in an ounce? per head approximately by and large more or less to the nearest decimal good measure round figures not a quant! in a word in a worm for reasons unknown no matter what mateine the facts are there and considering what is more much more grave that in the light of the labors lost of blackberry blackberry blackberry it appears what is more much more grave than symmetry under a cemetery wall that in the light the light so much light! of the labors lost of Avi and Eti that in the plains in the mountains by the seas by the rivers running water running fire the air is the same but better in Northern California and then the earth namely the air and then the earth in the great cold the great dark the air and the earth abode of stones in the great cold alas alas in the year of their Lord 2001 September 11 changed everything the air the earth the sea the blogosphere abode of stones in the great deeps the great cold on sea on land and in this economy I resume for reasons unknown in spite of the foam roller on the beard the porkbelly the tears the stones so sunny! so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the skull the skull in spite of the labors abandoned left unfinished graver still abode of mahbud? in a word I resume alas alas abandoned unfinished Rainbow Brite slip 'n' slide praise the Lord chips ahoy gunshot eternal slumber (mêlée, final vociferations; falls)
Tom: Up! Pig! (Meme evolves) Faster! On! Adieu! Porkbelly! Yip! Adieu! (Exeunt Tom and Meme)
Matt: What do we Do now?
Me: I don't know.
Matt: Let's go see a movie, or go out to dinner, and pretend to enjoy it.
Me: We can't.
Matt: Why not?
Me: We're waiting for the Actual God.
Matt (despairingly): Ah (Affshit)!
Me: Why aren't you wearing a shirt?
Matt: Christ didn't.
Me: Christ! You're not going to compare yourself to Christ!
Matt: All my life I've compared myself to him.
Me: But where he lived it was warm, it was dry!
Matt: Yes. And they crucified quick.
(Silence)
Me (hitting Refresh till fingers bleed): Wait! He updated.
Matt: Who?
Me: The ACTUAL God!
Matt: Really?
Me: Actually!
Matt: What does he say?
Me: ...It's just a picture of him in Heaven.
Matt: Is that it?
Me: Yeah...it looks like he needs spoon.
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