Archive | August, 2016

I Shaved My Balls For You

31 Aug

spike buffy

I Shaved My Balls For You

 

I shaved

my balls for you

 

I don’t know why

because you were already

gone, but I shaved my balls

 

Not with a razor

but with the nervous terror

that comes with all these years

of whatever this is

and loss

 

I shaved my balls

so smooth

you could build a haunted house on them

if you wanted to

 

but upon doing so

the house would just:

slip off

 

and while clinging to gravity

crumble

into a pile of balls-touched timber

and homeless ghosts

 

So please don’t build a house on my nuts, darlin’

because I just shaved them

and they’re too goddamn sensitive

and slippery

and why would you want to do something

like that anyway?

 

If you build a house on my nuts

you’d have to live there

and you don’t want to live there

 

You want to live elsewhere,

where everyone sweats ice tea

and wears underpants

and lives in cute houses not built

beneath their ex-person-they-used -to

love’s dicks

 

Which seems weird (to me)

[slight pause] that you live there, but

that’s where you live so:

 

ok [while looking left, to move on]

 

I don’t live there though, obviously

I live over here,

with great white shark ice sculptures

and a front row view of the vacant

lot that is my nuts

 

maybe I should plant flowers there

and watch them die because nobody waters them

like Sinead O’Conner does in that Prince song or

Taylor Swift sings about in that one song of hers

where she borrows a line about flowers from Prince

 

Shit

that reminds me, tonight:

Prince is dead!

Gene Wilder just died!

 

and I shaved my balls for you!

for some melodramatic/goddamn reason

 

Ha!

 

and when it was over

and all the tiny hairs had been vanquished

to the solitary confinement

of the bathroom floor, for a couple of seconds

 

I thought about calling you, but didn’t

because: fuck phones

ergo: instead of doing that

 

I figured it was time to start

re-watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer again

and walked off towards the sunset living room

 

as the neighbor’s heavy dogs

roared

their Donald Trump guts out

 

and the lamp beside my futon burst

into tears

that looked like

pummeled light

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Multiverse Johnson Presents: Not That I’m Saying This But A Lot Of People Are Telling Me

22 Aug

baio

Not That I’m Saying This But A Lot Of People Are Telling Me,

by Multiverse Johnson

 

They say Donald Trump

is a fear mongering triceratops

with the I.Q. of a constipated lawn dart

 

which if true would solve the mystery

around whether or not dinosaurs

and lawn darts

can coexist

 

They say he once sued his own penis

for defamation of character

His penis counter-sued for nonconsensual cupping

 

The whole thing was eventually just thrown the hell

out of court and, until this exact goddamn moment,

was never spoken of again

 

They say Trump eats his unpaid debts

with a fork shaped like his own ass

an atonally staggered, deeply cracked

three pronged looking ass and that the gaps in his understanding

of foreign policy would kill Evel Knievel all over again

if he tried to jump over them on a dare-devil-ly reinforced

type of bike

 

They say that Donald Trump is so racist

he makes this guy in Walmart who was

saying some really horrible things about

Venezuelans look like this other guy in Target

who was saying something slightly offensive

but still sorta funny about this one lady who was

waiting in line at the miniature Starbucks and just happened

to look like Cagney and Lacey’s mom

 

What am I, looking for dirt?

You think I wanna know these things about this guy?

I want to play No Man’s Sky and quote Herzog

I want to spend time with my kids

But what am I supposed to do?

They tell me stuff

People tell me stuff

 

People tell me this all the time

They come up to me and they say, Mr. Johnson,

are you Multiverse Johnson? and I’m always like

yes child, how can I help? And then they lay into it, like

did you know Donald Trump was originally cast

to play the heroin enema Ewan McGregor

jams up his ass in Trainspotting

before shitting it out along with half of Scotland?

 

in the end he lost the part to Scott Baio

who apparently just nailed it from the get-go

without even reading the script

 

p.s.

 

I’ve heard Trump’s penis is so small

it makes his hands look like 2 Dobermans pinchers

fighting over a cornflake

 

p.p.s

 

This isn’t just me making things up here

this is just me applying Trumps own method

of fact checking against him, repeating

 

what people could say theoretically as facts

so,

you know

 

it’s probably true

 

(historical note: Multiverse Johnson used to write brochures for The Burnt Toast readings sponsored by Illiterate Magazine and Baobob Tree Press. In 2009 he put down his brochure writing pen and disappeared into the jungles of Louisville and was never heard from again. Until now.)  

The Most Unnecessary Bridge In The World

20 Aug

owls

 

The Most Unnecessary Bridge In The World

 

So the power chord that I ordered

for this old movie camera that used to be ours

aka/ergo/etc.:

the movie camera stayed with me

what I lost was her

and the chord

 

(insert sound of time moving: here,

in an ear that has been conveniently shaped

like an extroverted vagina. insert it there, with the vocal intonations

of a mighty Herzog sneezing………can we soundtrack the hell out of it

with the original score from King Kong?……….huh?……….

I miss her?…………I mean, shit

that’s not where I was going with this,

This is serious.”Signs

I mean

hell…..)

 

I know there’s no getting her back

I knew that 40 minutes before the second time

that she left me

(her life left my life and while sure,

my life still stares off in the direction

of her life’s leaving

it’s all maroon vs. purple at this point

it’s irrelevant

 

her life has a new life to hang out with

and they probably have their own video camera

by now and it’s probably really nice

and they know exactly where the chord is

at all times)

 

and shit nothing really comes back anyway

because back is just a pile

of misplaced brevity

and previously house shaped sticks

 

and there’s nothing I can do about that

because I’m a pretty lousy time plumber

and what do I know about sticks?

 

but goddamn it there was something I could do

about that chord

(baby steps to oblivion)

and what I did was

I ordered a new one

and like I’ve already said at the beginning

of this, or no I haven’t

I got distracted in all this loss of her

because it’s everything, dammit

 

from the world and that thing that moves time

to the goddamn tree trunks in the backyard of the song

that Bruce Springsteen will never sing for us

 

once or at all

it’s all of it

everything

made out of loss

 

which when you think of it…….

right?

so yeah, the chord I ordered for the camera

that’s been sitting in a drawer

with its battery drained from the inside

for 6 years now

that chord showed up today

while I was at work

 

so when I got home

(two pianos playing rock/paper/scissors

with each move banging only the super-most

saddest of notes)

 

of course the first thing I did

was plug the entire goddamn thing in

I mean, I really put that shit together

 

I plugged that fucker in

and all the buttons burned to life

like a gallon’s worth of adrenalin

pumped straight into Uma Thurman’s

pulp fiction shaped chest

and there it was

just fucking sitting there or whatever the hell

it is that digital images of your own past

encased in plastic fucking do

 

an hour of footage

shot 10 years ago

before my heart had cracked for good

and the world had grown so goddamn unreasonable

that a fuck like Donald Trump actually has a

shot at being President

 

an hour’s worth of footage of my old life with Helen

60 minutes worth of pixilated memories

60 times more detailed then the memories

I have in my head and………………

 

……..I’m fighting the urge to be distracted

because to continue on about things we no longer continue

…………………I mean, ouch

“I need a drink”—R Gosling’s daughter in The Nice Guys

 

so let’s just impale ourselves upon the cliff notes

for now, shall we?

and we can all just try to fill in our own gaps later

 

agreed?

groovy

 

fast forward to the bit about how we used to check into

mountain motel rooms and get super drunk

and have a really great time but also if this video tape

is to be believed we used to get into really dumb

stupid fights about stuff too

and for some reason we’d record them

 

I’ve only watched half of the entire hour

and we’ve already had two long

middle of the night motel arguments

that are so ridiculous and funny

and I found myself screaming to myself

on the tiny video screen to just “Shut up!”

 

I get so fucking stubborn and let down

about stuff that should just be disagreed upon

for a couple of minutes and then

moved on, or away from, fucking un-dwelled upon

 

but I had some goddamn theory back then

that if you talked about something long enough

then everything would eventually turn out all right

 

and we all know how well that worked out for me

so yeah, (cut to the original trailer for

The Creature From The Black Lagoon)

 

fast forward to the bit about the bridge

 

at one point in the video when we’re not arguing

like idiots we’re having a really nice time but we’re out of ice

so I grabbed the ice bucket and Helen grabbed the camera

 

and we headed outside and down the stairs to the ice machine

the motel is structured like a double decker Bates Motel

and the two of us being drunk and laughing about everything

we were convinced that somebody was going to call the cops

on us again because we were being loud and the last time we

had stayed at this particular place somebody had called the cops

 

so we were trying to be discrete and secret mission-ive as possible

because the ice machine was located directly outside

the motel managers office, which was pretty much

like the local Death Star for us at the time

 

so the plan was to get in, talk an old man into

disabling the tractor beam, grab the ice, and get

the hell back to our room as quick as Wookily possible

 

and the plan was going horribly

but goddamn it we were having fun

 

the ice had been secured, some local squirrels

had been made fun of, and we were about to head

back to the Millennium Falcon which was also known

as: our room, when the two of us at the same time

happened to turn our heads together to the left

 

and that’s where we saw it

Helen, with the camera

and me with my Helen loving eyes

lodged somewhat symmetrically in my head

 

behind the motel there was a bridge

it was around two feet long and

one foot off the kind of ground that looked

like it had never seen water

 

and we just started laughing

because the bridge was unnecessary

on a scale that made it remarkable

like a pumpkin the size of an igloo

or a really great work of art

 

it was the most unnecessary bridge in the world

 

nobody gave a shit about that bridge

that night, but we loved that bridge

for the fact that it was excelling at something

 

even if its area of excelling was

being unnecessary

 

we laughed about it all the way

back to our room, where we learned

that we’d lost our room key

and Helen set off to the front office to get us a new one

and showed up 10 minutes later laughing and without

the room key because she’d forgotten what she was doing

and did something else instead

 

which tonight leads into

me, still loving her

 

while back then it just led

us into another

unnecessary fight

August 16, 2016

17 Aug

Get in the car Helen

 

August 16, 2016

 

“I’m not sayin’/there wasn’t nothin’ wrong/

I just didn’t think you’d ever get tired of me”—MB Twenty

 

So it’s August 16th again

Great

I’m fine with it

Really

Just put the parade back in your pants

about it, will ya?

 

Because that parade looks miserable

Honestly

The floats don’t seem to be floating

The marching band’s been replaced by

a trombone full of rats and

what the hell have you been feeding those balloons?

 

August 16th, home of cold Taco Bell and insomnia

land of these long assed shark infested serenades

 

A lot of things have happened on oh 8 sixteen

over the gut shot course of all these years

some substantially less heart breaking than others

 

Bukowski/Madonna/Paul Soter was born

Elvis died

I married Helen

 

Probably in that exact goddamn order

I don’t know

I’m too moody right now to do the math

 

August 16th 2003, that was a big day

 

She stitched the date in the back of my shoe

I still have it

(not Helen, the shoe)

 

I still have the shoe

and the memory of sitting

in a Westport hospital waiting room

next to a long haul trucker with a busted arm

and an unattended head wound

who really loved Elvis

 

That’s how I know Elvis died on the day he did

This busted armed trucker told us all about it

while I sat there with Helen waiting to get our blood drawn

so the state of Connecticut could confirm

that we didn’t have syphilis

 

Because for some reason it’s the law out there

You’re only allowed to get married in Westport

if you can provide documented proof

to Paul Newman’s pastor that you don’t have syphilis

 

“Do you have syphilis?” I asked Helen, after she’d

told me the news that the government wasn’t going

to let us get married if we happened to have syphilis,

between shots of Canadian Mist

 

“I don’t have syphilis. Do you have syphilis?”

Helen laughed back. Damn she was amazing.

(Fuck)

 

“I don’t think so.” I told her. “Let’s find out.”

 

[Historical Note: By ‘find out’ I meant let’s have sex

right now and see if our private bits fall off’, not

let’s go sit in a waiting room and learn a whole bunch

of stuff about Elvis]

 

So even though we were pretty damn sure

we didn’t have syphilis there we sat

in that medicinally scented waiting room

waiting to find out for sure

waiting for the blood to be drawn

and the tests evaluated

so the doctor could bust through the door

with chocolate donut stuck to his face

smiling with his arms spread wide

and declaring in a voice loud enough

to project across the tiny room

“Good news, you two! You don’t have syphilis!

That’ll be 50 bucks each. Good luck on your std free new life together.

You can pay the lady I’m definitely not banging

at the front window on your way out.”

 

[Historical Note: She was totally banging him. The entire office literally reeked of cliché]

 

The Elvis loving truck driver congratulated us

on our living in the modern goddamn world

and not having syphilis, the entire time looking like

he should have bled to death hours ago

 

I mean fuck, that head wound

it was Viva Las Vegas

 

But damn, I liked him

and he knew a lot about Elvis

 

Did you know Elvis Presley

was actually allergic to peanut butter

and his favorite band was Matchbox Twenty?

 

His favorite color was Pricilla

and he only slept on his left side

because if you sleep on your right side

all the time you’re gonna eventually run out

of right, which only makes sense, right?

 

Becaise what happens when you run out of right?

You start doin’ wrong

and when you start doin’ wrong you blah blah

blah blah blah

 

and then fuck, what do I know?

Tonight she’s been gone for the exact amount

of time that we were together

 

What’s that got to do with syphilis?

 

I don’t know anymore

It’s fine

Just call me nostalgic

 

Because if nostalgic means

a person who’s overly sentimental

about certain things that are irrevocably gone and also has an

abnormally large penis then sure,

 

Fuck it

I’m nostalgic

You win

Unmellow Yellow

8 Aug

chewie

Unmellow Yellow

 

Han Solo had a 10 Parsec

 

long dong

vertically hairy

and Black Vest-idly

strong

 

He named it Chewbacca

and the Chewbacca you remember

from childhood is a figment

of Han Solo’s overly exaggerated mind

 

 

so, as a separate entity, the thick Wookie

that sat beside him co-piloting

the Millenium Falcon

doesn’t actually exist

(not in the way in which we perceive it)

 

 

Chewbacca is in reality a simple manifestation

of Han Solo’s grand thoughts about his own penis

a grand thought

so strong that it became

a shared vision

 

 

we all went along with it

 

It’s like Jimmy Stewart in Harvey

only Jimmy saw the rabbit

 

it’s like that, except on a much larger scale

because Han Solo wasn’t alone

we all saw Chewbacca!

even though he wasn’t there

or, in a sense, he was there

 

but not in the way our culturally connected minds perceived him to be there

 

he was there, in the literal sense, tucked inside

Han Solo’s pants

 

even though we perceived Chewie, as Han Solo did

as an eight foot tall best pal who’s posture slightly

stiffened every time Princess Lea entered and room

and haimishly gargled at all of Han’s jokes

 

we all saw it, ergo:

we’re all

in every sense

and in all actuality

totally nuts

 

and speaking of nuts

what kind of man nicknames his dick

Chewie?

 

The Unmellow Universe

is not only a coward

and hesitantly expanding

 

it’s judging us, about shit like this

unjustly

and thinking things like

if it had it to do all over again

 

it would’ve liked to have gotten a degree in Psychology

or something like that

 

instead of becoming what it is

an enormously nervous Tea Cup

that contains Everything

 

including Cocky Bastards

with Talking Teddy Bear dick

fantasies

 

so powerful

that everyone he comes

into celluloid contact with

 

as if dazzled by the variant amount

of loneliness and special effects

 

winds up believing

in the fantasy

too

Judge Judy

3 Aug

judy

 

Judge Judy

 

it goes something like ‘Yr honor, she broke my heart’ Her: ‘Your Judge-ishness, I never even really liked him’ Him: Last week you were saying we should get a puppy. I don’t want a goddamn puppy! But I said Are you kidding me?! That’s a great idea! Let’s get a puppy! because I love her, Councilor Judy, so if I gotta put up with a puppy because she wants one, so what? Judge Judy: ‘ Nobody ever has a goddamn point.’ Dude: If she wants a puppy, we’ll get a puppy. Shit. It was her idea. But now she don’t want anything?’ Lady: ‘That’s not true, your honor. I still want a puppy.’. Dude: ‘Objection your honor!’ Judge Judy: ‘I know what an ipod is now. Louis told me about them the other day. Do either one of you own an ipod?’ (makes wavy hand gestures) Nobody says shit for a little bit. Judge Judy to the Bailiff: ‘Did you see that Kati Perry half time show? Sharks can’t dance. That’s ridiculous’. Lady to Guy: ‘I’m sleeping with your unborn brother’. Him: ‘That’s just, so unfair’