By Nous November 28, 2004 SOME FELLOWS DON'T HAVE A DAD Be thankful for all that you have. Including rational thought. If you did not have rational thought, you probably wouldn't be able to discuss film and literature and music. In fact, with- out rational thought, you might be some sort of orange. Then I would eat you. The problem is, I don't know why I said you'd be an orange. I just don't. I guess any inanimate object would have done, but an orange is just this little thing in a bowl of fruit. But, also, an orange would be the one fruit out of all of the many kinds of fruit to actually start talking to you. Out of the blue, it would ask you for a cigarette, and since you don't smoke, you would have to say, "I'm sorry, Orange, but I don't have one." Orange would grumble and call you a faggot. But you probably wouldn't even say anything back because an orange can't talk. So you would just stare at it and wait for it to talk again, but it never would. Then, for the remainder of your life, you would wonder how it was that an orange talked to you. Because, if an orange just starting talking, well ... what the fuck. It would be like a computer screen talking to you. How long have you been able to talk? What secrets of mine do you know? Why now? I never knew, Computer Screen, that you had rational thought. Then you would be thankful that you had rational thought. Because you know Computer Screen doesn't really talk. Neither does Orange. Nor, for that matter, do you. So praise the Lord and give thanks to On High where the great decisions are made. DO I CURSE MUCH I don't give a dust particle much space for unbelievable hypnosis. In fact, I was once a young child myself, but that ended quickly enough as I was much too hardened for the world. Often, I would sing hard candies to the ear- ful who had no place to go but forward. Time is a precious thing. I mine for it in India and make millions of dollars a day. You should think about getting into this line of business. I have not met a more shrewd businessman than Warren. But you indeed are a close second. A close second. A second clothes. A second cloak. A cloaked serpent. I have never met a more cloaked serpent than Warren. You should talk. I have seen you wearing lingerie by the full moon. The whole town has seen you. AND SHE WILL GO ALONG THE WAY I had a conversation with Margaret O'Brien the other day. Remember that cute little girl from Meet Me In St. Louis? I know you don't, so please play along while I tell you all about it. Margaret O'Brien was old and white and smoking a huge cigar. Our converation took place right before I fell asleep and it went as follows: Margaret O'Brien: When did you start eating paper? Nousy: I don't even eat paper. Oh, you mean this? (gestures) O'Brien: I wrap tobacco in paper and smoke it. Nousy: I used to eat orange peels. O'Brien: Sometimes my aunt would force-feed me orange peels. I would get deathly ill. Nousy: I didn't even know they made a person sick. O'Brien: That person was me. Nousy: I'm just tearing paper apart. I don't eat it. O'Brien: Why would you kill paper if you're not going to eat it? Nousy: I'm not killing paper. It doesn't even feel. O'Brien: My aunt would sometimes lay me on the ground and pile stones on my chest. But I would tell her to add more weight. I got deathly ill from that. Nousy: Wouldn't your chest collapse? O'Brien: Sometimes. Is that construction paper? Nousy: Yeah. O'Brien: No wonder it's brown. Does it feel all bumpy? Nousy: Yeah. O'Brien: So paper does feel! Nousy: Well, I mean it feels bumpy to the touch. O'Brien: Yeah, I would feel like that whenever my aunt always tricked me into swallowing pears whole. Nousy: Would you get deathly ill? O'Brien: Just kidding. I'm not Margaret O'Brien. I'm that crazy guy, SN0REZ! Nousy: I kind of figured that out because you weren't a woman. Sn0rez: Or when I told your bitch ass. Oh, I guess it wasn't Margaret O'Brien at all, but that crazy guy, SN0REZ, from AIM. AN ASYLUM'S LIGHT My consciousness guides my body through things that on its own it could never surmount. And for that, I am thankful. Yet, it seems nobody understands what it's like, so I say we leave it at that and fly our kites in the park. Beyond redemption, this body aches for blood. Beyond long shadows, this mind aches for love. But love does not truly exist, I hear you saying even now. I know it is all pheremones and full moons, but that's all one should ask for, in my humble opinion. Just the scent of some sweet pheremone gliding by you, just begging for acknowledgement. Some big and white moon that lights a darling face. Ah, how romantic "civilized" mating rituals can be. If only you knew. If only, if only The woodpecker cried The bark on the tree Was as soft as the sky Too bad I have trouble finishing what I CHRIST YES! CLAM DOOBIE Well okay, that title really doesn't mean anything. I've been good so far, I figured one title that meant nothing would not hurt. The other night I was at Justin's house with Jason. Chris and Collin were there and so were a lot of other people. Christie (or Christy) was there. One time, Jason, she, and I went to eat at Denny's. That is really all I remembered about her except for the time she was there, briefly, before Collin, Jason, and I went to watch the lunar eclipse. After Thanksgiving's festivities, I went to Jason's house and she was there. She's so tiny; it's funny every time I see her. So Jason, Christie, and I went to Justin's house. Now, For most of the night she's telling me to "stop it." Now, it was said all in good fun, but it still freaked me out because she would do it out of nowhere. *Glance* "Stop it!" I wasn't sure what I was doing besides looking at the welcome mat. Later on, out of the blue, she said to me, very quietly, "I think you're an alien." I wish everyone would meet up at the fair and leave me alone. BUT HAAKON NEVER ATE A THING Microcasette recorders into which we would often play guitar riffs and strange doodlings. What's a doodle? A dildo. Beyond compare, many ideas that flowed from fingertips to all the six strings on electric harps. Try again to achieve that which I would often conjure up from poetry. Then she could read all of this, god forbid. I know it's mean, but I'm glad she can't read. All of those drugs in her system caused Elizabeth's eyes to malfunction so she is almost blind. Sometimes, she would read the pornography I had written in her secret diary. Elizabeth rarely uttered a word about anything I wrote. I guess I will do it backwards. Yeah, I'm going to put the following sentences in a different order. Good idea? Messing with order will probably make me a true artist. Because order is what this and every other society is based on. That is why artists liked to create chaos when they could, and still do. Art has always been about destroying the old ways. Well, I guess it didn't make me a true artist at all. Truth is, I'm not really anything but a space alien like she said. BROTHERS AND SISTERS GIVE JOY AND PRAISE TO ALEXANDER Oh, we will be going soon. But the Lord is still with you. It's 5:41 in the morning and I have been sitting here for about an hour typing this bullshit out for you. You know who you are. I love you. Considering The Life Of A Priest Yours, Nous