TPHD

WRETCHED INVENTION: A TOMATO BLOWPOP WITH OLIVE OIL IN THE CENTER

DREAMS DREAM ONE, WHICH ARRIVED DURING A SHORT, HOT DAYTIME NAP OF ONLY 15 OR 20 MINUTES THE CAMERA IS ABOVE ME, FRAMING A PRETTY SCENE: A CLEAN TABLE, WITH A PLAIN CLOTH AND A BOWL OF SOUP. I AM THERE, AND I AM VERY METICULOUSLY SPOONING OUT THE SOUP, BUT NOT IN THE REGULAR WAY. INSTEAD I DIP A SPOON INTO THE BOWL, FILL IT WITH SOUP, THEN PLACE IT PRECISELY BUT TENDERLY ONTO THE TABLE. I HAVE ACQUIRED SPOONS, THE NUMBER OF WHICH IS SEEMINGLY SUFFICIENT TO DETERMINE EXACTLY HOW MANY SPOONS OF SOUP ARE IN ONE BOWL, AND I AM FEELING A POWERFUL URGE TO WITNESS THIS ARRANGEMENT, SO THAT I MIGHT MORE FULLY UNDERSTAND THE BOWL'S VOLUME, THE SPOON'S NATURE, AND THE DELICATE NEGOTIATION THAT OCCURS BETWEEN THEM DURING THE PROCESS OF: LUNCH. I SPOON OUT ENOUGH TO EMPTY THE BOWL. THE TABLE IS COVERED IN SPOONS OF SOUP, ALL PRECISELY LAID OUT WITH RESPECT TO ONE ANOTHER, ALL READY AND WAITING. SOME LATER SPOONS STILL STEAMING. I BEGIN TO PICK UP THE SPOONS AND CONSUME THE SOUP. I FOR SOME REASON FEEL LIKE I AM PLAYING A CHURCH ORGAN BUT THERE IS NO SOUND. I EAT THE TINY SOUPS, ALL OF THEM, EVEN THOUGH THEY'VE MOSTLY GONE COLD. DREAM TWO ARRIVED IN THE DRUNKEN NIGHTTIME I'M UP IN THE HIGH, HIGH BLEACHERS. THERE ARE A LOT OF RECURRING VENUES IN MY DREAMS, AND HIGH BLEACHERS IN VARIOUS PUBLIC AMPHITHEATRICAL SPACES IS ONE OF THEM. THERE IS A STAGE DOWN BELOW AND A FRIEND IS ON IT, DOING STAND UP. HE TELEPORTS SUDDENLY UP INTO THE BLEACHERS AND BEGINS LAUGHING MADLY, WITH A HALF-BROKEN VOICE. EVERYONE IS ALARMED, AND HIS DISTRESSED, MANIACAL OUTBURST HAS WHOLLY CAPTURED OUR PREVIOUSLY SOMEWHAT DIVIDED ATTENTION. HE SEEMS TO BE IN FITS AND AT THE APEX OF THE CYCLE, HE TELEPORTS AGAIN TO A WHOLE NEW SPOT IN THE BLEACHERS. WE SWIVEL OUR HEADS, FOLLOW HIM AROUND THE ROOM, COLLECTIVELY STUNNED. I WAKE UP FEELING CONCERNED.

TWO MONTHS OF SHELTERING IN PLACE HAS RELEASED ME FROM A POSTURE I'D BEEN HOLDING FOR OVER TWENTY YEARS WITHOUT FULLY BEING AWARE OF IT I CAME BACK TO MY JOB TO REALIZE: I DO NOT WANT A JOB JOBS ARE BAD INSTEAD OF A JOB I SHOULD INVENT SOMETHING WHAT COULD I INVENT? THE OTHER DAY I INVENTED A SMOOTH WORM THAT'S THE SAME DIAMETER AS A SLEEVE OF OREO COOKIES--HE OPENS HIS LIL WORM MOUTH AND SLIDES ONTO THE COOKIES AND THAT'S HOW HE GETS SEGMENTED UMM...WHAT ABOUT A DIFFERENT WORM THAN THE FIRST WORM, HE'S GOT COMPLETELY DIFFERENT QUALITIES EXCEPT THAT HE'S ALSO A WORM SO THERE ARE STILL SOME THINGS HE HAS IN COMMON WITH THE COOKIES WORM SUCH AS: TUBE, WIGGLING, ETC HE COULD...UH....HE COULD CHEW DIRT LIKE A NORMAL WORM BUT HE DOES IT WHILE FROWNING THAT'S A NOVELTY ARE THESE GOOD YET CAN I LIVE PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME GO BACK TO MY JOB I HATE IT (YES I KNOW I AM LUCKY TO HAVE A JOB)

HERES A POEM I WROTE WHICH IM NOT GOING TO EDIT OR REVISE BECAUSE I DONT CARE ABOUT IT OR ANYTHING ELSE: I WANT LESS ACCESS TO INFORMATION ALL MY SKIN IS COMING OFF EVERY NEW FACT THAT TOUCHES ME CAUSES ME TO SCREAM OUT WITH TERRIBLE JOY I TELL MYSELF I LOVE THIS EVEN THOUGH IM PRETTY SURE IT ISNT TRUE HOW MANY FACTS DOES A PERSON NEED TO BE HAPPY 7? I SQUEEZE ALL THE EXCESS FACTS INTO MY PINKY AND CUT IT OFF A DOG EATS IT AND GETS POISONED WITH KNOWLEDGE AND BECOMES THE WORLDS FIRST SAD DOG I WISH I WAS A PIGEON THEY ARE COMPLETELY HOLLOW ON THE INSIDE EXCEPT SOMETIMES THERES A CHEETOH IN WHAT A WONDERFUL FEELING TO BE COMPLETELY CLEAN OF THE WORLD ABSENT OF ANY REFRACTIONS IDEAS OR OPINIONS FACTS ARE JUST OPINIONS SOMEONE CAST IN BRONZE SO THEY WOULD WEIGH DOWN THEIR BEARERS COLLECT ENOUGH FACTS TO GET ANCHORED AND THERE YOU ARE FOREVER ID RATHER BE A CHEETOH'S HOME ON THE WIND

IF I FELT LIKE IT I COULD GROW ONE HAIR AS LONG AS A MILE OR MORE THAN A MILE AND IT WOULD BE A BIG PROBLEM EVEN FOR ME BUT WE'D ALL HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT MAYBE IT'D EVEN BRING US TOGETHER REMIND US WE ARE ALL HERE NOW IN THIS MOMENT AS A COMMUNITY EVEN IF WE DON'T FEEL THAT WAY OFTEN IT'S NEVERTHELESS QUITE TRUE THAT OUR PHYSICAL BODIES PERSIST ALL WITHIN THE SAME LIGHTNING STRIKE OF TIME ARRIVED IN A FLICKER AND GONE IN A FLASH AND IF IT TAKES ME GROWING A NASTY HAIR SO LONG IT TANGLES MY NEIGHBOURS INTO A RAT KING SITUATION I'LL DO IT WITHOUT HESITATION OR COMPUNCTION BUT I MIGHT NEED TO UP THE AMOUNT OF PROTEIN I EAT IT ISN'T EASY AND I DON'T EAT THAT MUCH TO BEGIN WITH I'M NOT A MUSCLES MAN THAT SEEMS EXHAUSTING EVEN THOUGH IT LOOKS PRETTY GOOD THOUGH SOMETIMES I FANTASIZE ABOUT POPPING THEIR BODIES LIKE BALLOONS I'D USE A BROADSWORD I FEEL OR A TINY PIN  WITH A MISCHIEVOUS GRIN ON MY BEAUTIFUL FACE WHILE I PUSH IT IN OK THANK YOU FOR READING

HERE'S A WORD I LEARNED THE OTHER DAY PASSERINE IT'S A TYPE OF BIRD. ACTUALLY IT'S A BROAD CATEGORY OF BIRD. ANY BIRD WITH THREE TOES FORWARD AND ONE TOE BACK. A SONGBIRD. MORE THAN HALF OF ALL BIRDS, REALLY. ALSO CALLED "PERCHING" BIRDS. WHAT A WORD THOUGH! PASSERINE SOUND LIKE A CITRUS FLAVORED ASPIC DISH FROM 1953. SLICES OF LOCAL ORANGE VARIETALS TRAPPED IN GORGEOUS JELLO--SHIVERING BRAVELY IN THE MIDCENTURY SUNLIGHT PASSERINE SOUND LIKE THE NAME OF A FRENCH YACHT, THE LETTERS ALL IN GOLD AGAINST THE WHITE OF THE HULL, BUT THE SAME GOLD IS CARRIED THROUGHOUT THE REST OF THE ENTERPRISE TOO, IN FREQUENT BUT CONSIDERED ACCENTS, THE TILEWORK, THE INDENTATIONS OF THE WAINSCOTTING, THE CAPTAIN'S PEN, GLIMMERING WHILE HE SIGNS SUBSTANTIAL CHECKS TO THE CONTRACTORS WHO'VE HELPED BUILD HIS FLOATING MONSTROSITY, ETC PASSERINE SOUND LIKE A TYPE OF BLUE ONLY THE OCEAN COULD PRODUCE, IN THE BEAUTIFUL BUT DEADLY PARTS, THE INCONSTANT SHALLOWS, THE PART OF THE OCEAN CLOSEST TO SHORE BUT WITH THE HIGHEST BODY COUNT WORDS HAVE MEANINGS MORE OR LESS DETERMINED BY CONSENSUS BUT NOTHING CAN STOP YOU FROM APPENDING YOUR OWN RIDERS IF YOU FEEL LIKE IT. IT'S NOT EVEN ILLEGAL PASSERINE AN ANCIENT BOARD GAME WHICH USES BITS OF COLORED GLASS AS BEADS, THE EXACT OBJECT OF WHICH HAS NOT BEEN PRESERVED. ATTEMPTS HAVE BEEN MADE TO RECREATE THE GAMEPLAY BUT IT'S ACKNOWLEDGED TO BE LARGELY GUESSWORK GO AHEAD AND INVENT YOUR OWN IF YOU LIKE

THERE'S A NEW SPECIES OF URGENCY INFORMING ALL OUR MOMENTS WHA, CLIMATE CH--NO IT'S THOSE HUGE GHOSTS THAT HAVE MOVED INTO THE TROPOSPHERE TO LEER AT US LIKE LECHEROUS CLOUDS WET, DIFFUSE, GHASTLY HUGE UNWANTED EYES WE SCURRY BENEATH THEM EAGER TO GET TO OUR NEXT APPOINTMENTS TO ESCAPE THEIR GAZE