Monday, August 09, 2004

Blonde Volume Knob I -- X 

I. White strands -- that which remains is all I have forgotten -- the projects I have never completed! Today is a different day, mister -- I am turbo-charged with the spirit of the Creator. Belief in me constitutes an ex-communication. A guy cannot even walk to the corner store without a bunch of kids yelling -- I have my portable CD player -- I'm oblivious to their attacks, almost. That's what the volume knob is for.

II. I like it better blonde. You belong out on the bleached white sands of Platinum Beach. You belong in a book about Hollywood. I make my sketches in the margin -- I get paid to do crossword puzzles. Was that really you in that shampoo commercial? I could have sworn it was -- who am I to make these kinds of observations?

III. A new kind of communication is taking place. You are now a citizen of the F.U.T.U.R.E. These new pillow-cases are for you -- and so is this antique ball, a relic from your past. You remain unable to recognize it -- I'm taking careful notes, of course. Your time here has not been wasted. Here is an advertisement for peroxide:

IV. A shiny bean -- a citizen of the F.U.T.U.R.E. came trotting down the fire escape for the first time since the oatmeal incident. We have improved the efficiency of the factories. The rabbit's eyes were surgically altered to remain open at all times. I noticed that my zipper was down. Usually, I will leave it up to someone else to tell me -- such as the bleach-blonde punk-rock girl in line for tickets to the F.U.T.U.R.E. concert.

V. Specimen 'A' turned out to be more than a bronzed beach bimbo from the Low 900s. I patterned my speech after an artistic schism first felt fifty years ago in an experimental film laboratory. People eat oatmeal while wearing plastic gloves.

VI. Shampoo commercials will be illegal in the F.U.T.U.R.E. -- A pyramidal text will suffice. I can imagine a new calculator world with no handwritten numbers -- everything will be in red sevens, even eights. Where do I sign?

VII. We've been re-painting your metal frame, James. A juicy red spider is rolling around in a skull-suit. My value-meal arrived intact this time -- toy surprise: hula-girl!

VIII. Some clown by the name of 'Ron' laughed and the rest of the kitchen crew went on singing. I should have grabbed a strawberry milkshake. My face is part of the great Broadcast Fax. I thank you for allowing me to dye my eyebrows silver. I have completed the check-list.

IX. Later versions made use of a larger body of clinical suggestions. I spent twenty minutes inside 1960s Oklahoma, once. I could not find the fire-cards. Ten demons crouched behind the pharmacist's counter, waiting for me to leave. I tried not to bark as I filtered the re-claimed water. Tubes of vegetable protein baked in a pie!

X. Tablet-Head and Nicodemus supplied the proper jelly-eggs -- the green girl in the piercing booth with a bag of vegetarian burritos -- I am running my fingers through orange straw.


Greetings, my zerohero friends -- slö, antistresspoweet, Willem, Wosky -- I appreciate your kind words! I am always happy to share my work with you.

Here is a new zero for you...

I hope it is salty enough!


J. D.

Read more: http://MadVerse.com

shared by : J. D. Nelson


Post a Comment

::: to the top :::
(... home / latest posts ...)

::: to the archives & index :::

::: to the lab :::

::: to the lab-archives :::

::: to the pics :::

  • happening

  • !!! BUSH LIES !!!

    welcome too to:

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 License.

    Listed on Blogwise
    This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?