Thursday, February 17, 2011


The airplanes are my enemies. They splash around like black dolphins w/ death wishes. They make sounds like metal against the sky or metal bifurcating saltwater like a nose dive which is dolphin-like and full of fuel and lace-shaped flame. This is the underwater agony of being underwater and trying to talk to you but you’re on the other side of the oval window and I’m ashamed to be scared of being so far above that cultivated field and anyway, I’ve always been the pilot.

The airplanes carry friends away into death playing Ravi Shankar like that is supposed to make it better. What am I saying? I don’t have any friends. Wait: there’s a row of friends at the bottom of the sea and I am counting them. I have gotten up to 4,000 gravestones today and it's only noon.

Isn’t it strange that some people carry buckets of saltwater to the ocean and want to feed dolphins airplanes or ride on their backs? I don’t find this very amusing, do you? Sometimes groups of people amass around the shoreline because they are afraid that this is a tidal wave and they want to crush the dolphin bones into their memory systems.

Does anyone here want to see an airplane crash into the ocean today? I do and the answer to your question is deep inside my body so hold on a second while I figure it out.

I hate it when dolphins grin.
I hate it when humans make dolphins
grin and show their teeth.
Dolphins are not tigers, you know.

They don’t want to be treated that way. Neither do these airplanes. It isn’t their fault. They are who they are. Leave them alone.

None of these creatures want to be the fictional ferrymen who take you to the underworld or across the Pacific Ocean or into the tree-lined day you were born.


Benjamin Bourlier said...

"tree-lined day you were born"

I remember this! At least, where I'm from, probably the first thing you'd bother to see is a wash of trees being driven home from the hospital.

I showed the blog to a friend who agreed it reads thus far like one insane and incompetent old man, looking in a corner, and one insane and precocious young girl looking at everything.

Benjamin Bourlier said...

which is to say, perfectly