306

on the very same day i discovered incontrovertible alien spaceship wreckage in my backyard i also happened upon a bag of sliced portabella mushrooms that will remain safe to consume until the twilight of man:



fuckin-a.

307

at long last my literary pièce de résistance is complete:



now i can recline on the ole ijoy with a box of teddy grahams and wait for doubleday to burst through my patio door.

308

1920-2007.

309

1968-2007.

310

1918-2007.

311

say what you will about cucumber plants, my friends, but the bottom line remains that theyre fucking smart.

if ever an instance existed of a gourd extorting gravity cucumbers would represent the b.m.f.i.c.

my cukes have a hispanic accent.

"choo try to defy me, esse? say 'ello to my tendrils, beeyatch."




chun
chu chun
chu chun
chu chun
my tendril brings all the boys to the yard, and theyre like, its better than yours, damn right, its better than yours i could teach you, but id have to charge my tendril brings all the boys to the yard, and theyre like, its better than yours, damn right, its better than yours i could teach you, but id have to charge.

312

june 14, 1982:

police found a 35mm nikon thirty yards from the yellow tape.

forensics lifted a sanguine partial from the shutter button.

command developed a single grainy image from the film stock:




case #29145 remains cold.

313

a second shorter softer slower sooner a degree to the left a variant word an aberrant turn a forsaken call a lengthier eyelock a higher strike an extra ounce an orphic kiss an alternate number a mercurial y-sperm a hairline maneuver a rickety valance shell an incidental glance a second longer harder faster later

a different chain.





pick a card.

314

september 4, 1972.




june 6, 2007.






so long, bob.

315

sometimes the camera sees what you cant.

316

some people check the forecast via the internet as a daily matter of course.

others habitually frequent their online financial institution of choice.

i scour wikipedia's death page.

its fanfuckintastically fascifuckinating.

the month isnt yet fifty hours old and already our species has experienced the demise of a chinese vice premier, an irish poet, a young r&b vocalist, a malaysian actress, a former state senate majority leader and the world's fourth oldest person.

every name a story, every story a memoir, every memoir an anecdote, every anecdote a moment, every moment an eternity.


i conjointly follow the status of the planet's surviving world war one veterans; these individuals heard first-person accounts from civil war veterans in a manner analogous to generation y soldiers encountering the lore of korean war veterans.

civil. war. veterans.

roll it around in your brain for a moment or two.


twenty-nine wwi veterans, the youngest of whom is 104 years old, still open their eyes each morning as they did when william mckinley was the president of the united states.

317

thats how the world looks four picoseconds before a ceiling fan blade spanks the isthmus that links the frontal bone to the parietal bone.

some folks call it the coronal suture.

some folks would prefer a corona.



thats what the brain sees as you fall on your ass and ponder whether or not you indeed have a brain.



thats a mangomid.

all rights reserved.



thats three glass bottles of jarritos refresco sabor tamarindo natural stacked one atop another.

just 'cuz i could and just 'cuz you havent.



thats three colored balls comically out of place.

those of you who are cone deficient will be delighted to learn that the ball on the left is red.



and that?

well.


thats just plain fucked up, aint it?