Thursday, January 19, 2012

page 75

she called up priest and he came over he took off his clothes and did a belly dance just like I used to watch bertha do so many years ago Mr. Crowley is knocking at the door and screaming at Jane he is pissed off that she has a priest in her apartment the priest is scared shitless he is afraid of Mr. Crowley he hurries and gets his clothes on and jumps out a back window jane opens the door and lets Mr. Crowley in he searches everywhere for the priest he says he knows that a priest was in here because he can smell the fear and desperation he takes jane into the bedroom and starts to slap her around I find a gun under a seat cushion in the couch and point it at Mr. Crowley and tell him to back the fuck up he lunges for the gun several times and each time I kick him in the face and tell him to stop being stupid Mr. Crowley decides that it is in his best interests to leave an incendiary bomb was thrown through the window and everything was on fire for some strange reason the smell of the fire made me think of bath and body works weird huh it was some sort of melon smell knowing a lot of numbers across the length and breadth a latrine or cesspit we wonder and slip back into the madman’s spell jane is so tall I can’t get over how tall she is it seems like she has grown a foot taller over the past year slowly dying of revulsion you said it takes you to wtf? Well how and when and where and why of course I might have an inkling of the why acetic and hunched over sniffing the flowers I smell of melons the fire is still upon me in the weak light of a single bulb I worked on him like a drug he didn’t resemble self-pity he could work the hyphens he had a way with the hyphens it was like his calling not in words but in painful images he kept them all in a leather briefcase that was locked with a metal clasp Archimboldi he was reading Archimboldi the words would fall off the page and then stand up and dance away there was a danger and an innocence that were mixed together he was damaged that was plain and simple any reader would be able to make this conclusion the narrator in his stories was a force to be reckoned with I was surprised how he was able to write all 3,00 books with his flipper arms he must have had a special computer crafted or special software that he could dictate the words of the story to I think his novels created a sense of love and repulsion in his readers they both loved him and hated him at the same time like a mutant baby that kills the neighbors yet you hide the truth from the law while the mutant baby continues to murder all of your neighbors whom you once respected and loved in their own right but not at the level of love that you would have for your own child the whole thing is very messed up and sad yet so very moving at the same time it is the greek plays of comedy and tragedy all together again you don’t know whether to cheer or cry as you turn each page as I read Archimboldi I feel like he was trying to hide something from us some great evil that he was a part of by telling us all these wonderful lies about all these other people it is like he is trying to distract us trying to hoodwink the reader into believing something that is not true I would advise you to be wary of anyone trying to sell you their version of the truth it is like he is sharing with us his own personal delusion his own hideousness he is pulling out his heart and showing us its blackness the true evil that is inside (notice that I used the word true, skepticism should be flooding into your mind at

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