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David Alexander 

If I Were U 


Bjork fan Richard Lopez videotaped himself making an acid bomb which he sent to the rock star when she married. Then he blew his brains out. Bjork never received the bomb.

Wednesday paint drips from ceiling steam off.

The dawn of awareness is frequently painful. When a plane breaks the sound barrier, the controls reverse. On a day like today there's nothing but bad news. It's dreary, dreary Tuesday. Still Tuesday, though that is gone, like I'm.

Didn't show up for work today. Called in sick. Am sick. I love you, Sopay. Love you love you love love you Soapy. There on your video. You are everything I always wanted. So why create this collapsing situation by your reckless elopement?

It is like yelling at Hitler in German. The meter is broken and nobody moves. Sopay, you have led me to this hollow travesty, this strange new darkness. It is knocking the shit out of me, this news that I can no longer have you. This inchoate yearning to step from this plane.

Yet pain can heal as well as liberate, while life sometimes has the power to startle. The more I know, the more I am armed. I can spend hours just looking at shapes against the windows, listening to car alarms blaring or the shouts of young immigrants from various tropical hellholes in the street.

I use pens, meaning to refill them but I never do. I want to give you a present Sopay, so I remove one of the ink cartridges from a Papermate Flexigrip. It is empty, this cartridge. No black inside. I insert a tightly twisted piece of pink toilet paper which no more pink or paper saturated with my blood and come. I so black you so pink. Soapy. I will present this to you with my love, Sopay, for the words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.

But I digress. I really don't give a fuck anymore. All I want now is out, and the chance to take it. A part of the floor that never gets vacuumed. Suck farts in a cup. I'd better put my shoes on. It's getting time to go. I think I will get dressed, and I will rundown to this neighborhood stare and there store make purchases of lasting value to myself elf.

I will buy this beautiful white enamel stock pot. Because it is as big as a human head. Because it resembles yours. Paint drips from the ceiling. Steam off. I love of you Sopay. I really love you. I love you so so much much Soapy. Acts of cowardice are acts of treason. Acts of cowardice are facts of reason. In the season of cowardice, all acts are treasonous. My life changes too little. You so black and I so pink. Soapy Sopay Sopay Soapy.

Thursday the dry part, that hasn't been used.

Bouncing around like a ball in a tube. Bouncing around like a hole in a tube. Shit has to happen. Nonessential items must go. The paper must be cancelled. All bills must be paid. I am thinking I am thinking. My name on the door must be cancelled. All decisions must be made months in advance. I dreamed I wore another shirt. Bouncing around like a door in a tube. Bouncing around around bouncing bouncing. Door in a tube.

I want to tell you of my favorite part of the encycolpedia. This is M. It's the best. Mutually assured destruction. Moho. Mars. Murder. Sometimes R too. Rasputin. Rash. Rubidium. Risk. I am rubidium. C is wimp shit, though. Pussy shit. Fuck C. The word yesterday sounds different in many languages. Yet the word dog is very similar. Companularians, tubularians, sestularians, plumularians. These are types of worms. Sine, chubb, spline, lumen, sedge, Agfa, brigade, doesn't, tone, tine. Are words whose meaning I only sometimes understand.

Back to work today, they looked at me funny in the store. I don't know how much longer I can take it. Won't be much, though. Acquiring a new form, entering a new and higher level of being. Feel part of every crack in the sidewalk, every mosquito trying to make its way in the world. Exhaustion is buoyed and does not weigh so heavily.

I try to hang out with the bleakness. Playing your CD now, Sopay one with "Mental Case" on it. Love that song. Love fucking love it. Always hear it in my head. Played it at the store too. On the radio. Burn your guts from the inside out.

Friday the strawberry ring opened up in the tree.

It's always closer to the beginning than it is to the end. It's always closer to the end than it is to the beginning. It's always farther from the beginning than it is from the end. It's always further from the end than it was from the beginning. I must absorb sorb this new reality. Wine stain on carpet spread in the sun.

Today started out weird and got weirder. All kinds of shit flying overhead on this plane. First let me tell you first let me tell you. So I go out and call this fool over. As I parked the car he walked around front points down and says I just killed somebody under the car.

So I go out and call this fool over. What the fuck you saying I ask him. He say what? And I says to him hey you just tell me I killed somebody under my car, right? So where's the guy I killed. I never tell you shit he says. So I go out and call this fool over. The meter is broken. I stare at him and nobody moves.

I get a plastic bag out of the car and tie it over his head and write this on the bag in a felt tip pen. Soapy Sopay Soapy. This meter is broken.

It's the leaky one, I'm telling Melchior who shows me his face of wrath. The leaky one. Not my fault, man. He says he caught a man putting transistors in the celery. Somehow this is my fault. I'm the assistant manager and he's my boss. That makes everything my fault.

Bullshit. Why do you persecute me? Why do you penalize me? Have you no shame? This is at the job, a little later. Start of a bullshit day, and never gets better, just worse. Get my shit together, my reputation sucks, I been warned twice already. Stone soup, anything you want it to be.

Saturday the strawberry ring opened up in the apartment.

Sound of gigantic machines in the night. They do something to the streets then. I don't know what. But whatever it is keeps me from getting a good night's sleep.

There is a cancer the size of a tennis ball growing inside the sinus cavity behind my left eye. Fibroid and non-malignant, so they tell me. They will have to make a hairline incision along the plane of my nose and lay open my face in order to surgically remove.

Maggot eggs in my garbage can. These magic eggs. I have purged my boy my body of toxins and introduced beneficial intestinal flora into my small intestine. I can visualize it working to enhance absorption of beneficial realities. Life is a roll of toilet paper and each day is another sheet torn off the roll. Lot of fucking good.

I know you can see what I'm doing now, but I'm also telling you so you can know. By the way, I hope you can hear what's in the background. That's right. It's "Deny Everything" from your CD. That was a great tune. Not past tense, only how I said it.

What I'm holding up now is a fossilized human jawbone. Which I will put next to you so I can infect you. Not exactly, since my acid will melt off your face by then. I like to think so, but. These are ancient diseases Yaws and Bejel, spread by skin-to-skin contact or contaminated drinking vessels. Very retro. Crusader shit. Catch and reflect. It will cause inflammation of the tissue surrounding your bones and modify the bones.

This mutant strain will reshape your face, Sopay. It's programmed at the molecular level, bioengineered. Two days in the pot, the rest like Osiris, hid in various deep dark places. My beautiful white enamel stock pot. Size of the mask behind the head. Somewhat tarnished now from three days boiling on the stove, but still of exquisite Persian symmetries, as gifts of the earth and water.

Unto the pure all things are pure. I didn't. Paul the Apostle said that. That's "Get Real" playing in the background, by the way. Same version as your video I just saw. Look what I'm doing. So many colorful wires, and all intricately connected to the detonator and plastic explosive. Wait till you open your present.

The boats come from Atarbechis to collect the remains of the dead. I am a chemical I am rubidium I have been away for awhile. You take out what you put in. I would like to come over and lick off all your dishes.

Sinday sun melts the ice which drops in the ice box.

I was in one of my moods this morning.

I hung the trees and lamp posts with long strips of tape unwound from junk cassettes. These are old telephone messages and things I've recorded recorded. The wind plays them as it blows blows across the tape and my messages enter the minds of anyone I I think think of.

This is one of the ways I control them all and shape the world according to my whims and desires. My face my mirror. My mirror gives everything back, keeps nothing, rejects everything. Catch and reflect, catch and reject. The hunchback whose spine became warped through disease, whose sister heaven rose to support him.

Just now I stared at this camera projecting your image onto the film inside. Then I cut up the negatives and spread them in the gutter for you to find. I'm taking photos of you for your burial statues. Five of them, according to the Egyptians. Depict the stages of your life. Pictures in my brain. Larval, pupal, adult. There are probably others. We shall see.

I am in my wrathful aspect, showing my face of wrath. I am Melchior, hurt over the bone bone the earbone, something on your dishes for me to lick. The leaky one, it turned out. Always surprising. When you do it. Often fatal.

I'd gone down to Fourth Avenue, where the girls hang out. I had my pot in the trunk, the tissue that I am, crawling with it. It was time to ride the wild mare, Soapy, and she was the one who had a face like you. Already shaped and reshaped. Modified by sister heaven himself.

We got to talking. All they do is vacuum here, I told her, and she agreed to take a good whiff of the cloud of tiny insects I brought with me on my clothes. Then I waited in the alcove by the ice machine. I grab him by the shirt and out comes bloody chunks of ice.

Melchior and sister heaven, he was the hunchback and she looked just like you, Sopay. I gave them the serekh, the sign, and took them down to the wabet, where it was pure. Two adjoining pits, minus what's in the pot, oriented toward the sun the sign, under an egg dome mound of creation. What never ceases never begins.

Know what else is weird? Hendrix only made three studio albums before he kicked. That's not the weird part, but. Weird is the second two albums open weird.

Axis Bold as Love opens from the top and Electric Ladyland opens backwards. Much weirdness. Been trying to find out what that shit means for the last sixty-two years. Also there's the mudras on the Axis album, the wired weird hand gestures. Mudras can indicate the different aspects of the Hindu gods, but you know that. On the cover Hendrix is in his peaceful aspect, but not Mitch Mitchell or Noel Redding. Better put my shoes on. It's getting time to go.

Monday the spark of a connection.

Won't wear my good shoes in the rain. These thoughts flit through the mind. You hear the inner voice speak, and it's gone. Wind is the flow of air parallel to the earth's surface. The direction of wind is indicated by a weather vane. The wind is named according to the direction from which it is blowing. For example, a wind blowing from the south is called the south wind.

I like yelling at Hitler in German. It whips him to a frenzy. He turns red and shouts back. I switch to English so I can kick him in the balls. Constantly coiling and uncoiling myself, I am burrowing in all kinds of mud.

It's all a question of rising and falling to higher and lower energy states. If you want a car, you meditate on a car. You perform certain breaths and you get a car. I am going to blind you. It's all a question of energy, that's all.

Today was a patchwork because I am a patchwork. This is a new age, a new world. I talk to God in new ways. As I talk to Hitler in the old. None of us lives up to their buildups. We treasure what others throw out, is that not so?

I tried again but I could not hack it. I am a knife that has never turned and cut the hand, but you already know that. This morning I discovered that they had stolen my car radio and set it on fire. Everybody's giving me presents, it seems. But you already know the drill.

I was accused by them of more infractions. Things had been found missing. Other things that should not have been, were. I walked out of the store and never looked back. They made certain threats. Fuck them I said.

As you can see, Soapy, I am getting pretty close to the borderline. Things are almost ready and this hollow travesty will soon be closed.

Have I told you about my favorite letter M? Yes, I think I have. M as in metagenesis. One life history containing two entirely different forms of being.

If you don't understand yet, you will soon. Look M up some time. It's a trip. Don't worry about that shotgun either. That's not for you. It's for me. Enter the silence.

Lastday what kind of bird is that?

I found many treasures today. Old fishheads from a hole in a shiny black garbage bag. Old chicken gizzards tuna goo crusting a sucked-on grapefruit half crawling with flies. Fungus covered spare rib covered with smelly cat litter. Cosmic egg egg hatching hatching hatching.

From my window I watched a garbageman push down on a big black trash bag full of sulfuric acid. Bursting it. Spurted into mouth he inhaled it burning both lungs, sending blood spewing from his mouth. I heard him scream in pain. Ran ran ran. Ran. Ran.

Died on way to hospital, later heard. Cops looking for somebody already saddled to the she-ass of fire. Body parts and sulfuric acid. Wrath of the Eternal glowing.

I am an acrobat. I imitate the car alarms. Shit has to happen. Nonessential items must go. The paper must be cancelled. All bills must be paid. The sound of an empty bottle, rolling in the street.

Too late for that now. I will just tear up my bills and leave the pieces on the meat counter for the meat counter girl who sometimes says hello to me hello to me. I am rubidium. I have stared at the film of dirt on the porcelain bracket of the towel rack and thought, after I'm gone the dirt will still be there. I know that I am right.

As you can hear, I'm playing your CD as usual. I can never get enough. I have visited my neighbors in dreams, punched them and left. Now I am content to float in the fluid. As you can see, your present is all ready. Soon it will reach you and when you open it your gleamy, gleamy eyes will see that you too are a mirror, reflecting every game and con, as you have so well shown me.

What is about to happen may cause some discomfort, but it must. If you can't look, turn your head away. Even though you will never see this tape. Remember that whatever you do not or cannot learn yourself, life will teach you on the point of a whip. I have practiced with this shotgun and I know exactly how to use it. All I have to do have to do is wash my finger. That's it.

In the light the particles of dust are like souls. And I am God. A jellyfish without a sting. And the souls surround me and move with my breath. I have this extra hour, which is wonderful. Sopay Soapy Soapy Sopay. Love you love you love you. Now it's time to ride the wild mare.

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