Girl working at perfume stand in mall:
“God, you are SO tan! I’m so jealous! My God, I can’t believe how good you look. Oh GOD! Oh SHEORRRLGHHGH! JEESSSSUUUS! HELLLLLLPPPP!”
Possessed, she masturbates furiously on top of the glass counter, sending intermittent firehose jets of ejaculate spraying in plumed arcs across the aisle into Menswear. Within seconds, the store is a flood zone. From an angle near the cargo pants, you could make out a rainbow. Families and couples scatter, knocking over metal racks of colorful rayon, sounding alarms. Some kid slips in an ankle-deep puddle and starts whimpering. A suburban dad, confused, runs straight through a plate-glass window.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Doctor's Orders
“Hello Mr. Ward, I’m Jeff Gheurylla, the doctor on duty.”
“Gorilla?”
“Yeah, G-H-E-U-R-Y-L-L-A. Gheurylla.”
“Good Christ,” I said, and then paused. “That’s ridiculous!”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. What’s the problem?”
“Well-”
“Sharp pains in the keester?”
“Huh?”
“There are three steps to fixing this problem. First, a rectal exam, immediately followed by another rectal exam. And lastly, a colonoscopy.”
“What?”
“Buck up, chum! Seriously. Nurse!”
“Hold it, hold it, Gheurylla. This has gone far enough! I’ve had it with your GODDAMN orders. This place – this wretched hellhole with the peeling Dutch Boy yellow – it makes a sensitive patient like myself blanch, buckle over and fall onto the linoleum...if the linoleum weren't covered with six inches of reeking chum. I’ve had it! The cheap waiting room magazines, the undergarments, the sickly visage of Joan Armatrading...stand up and fight, punk! Make me regret every waking minute, why don’t ya! I collapse daily! I collapse daily into a giant mound of tube socks and sob until my tear ducts inflame to the size of limes. Try me, you phony!”
“Gorilla?”
“Yeah, G-H-E-U-R-Y-L-L-A. Gheurylla.”
“Good Christ,” I said, and then paused. “That’s ridiculous!”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. What’s the problem?”
“Well-”
“Sharp pains in the keester?”
“Huh?”
“There are three steps to fixing this problem. First, a rectal exam, immediately followed by another rectal exam. And lastly, a colonoscopy.”
“What?”
“Buck up, chum! Seriously. Nurse!”
“Hold it, hold it, Gheurylla. This has gone far enough! I’ve had it with your GODDAMN orders. This place – this wretched hellhole with the peeling Dutch Boy yellow – it makes a sensitive patient like myself blanch, buckle over and fall onto the linoleum...if the linoleum weren't covered with six inches of reeking chum. I’ve had it! The cheap waiting room magazines, the undergarments, the sickly visage of Joan Armatrading...stand up and fight, punk! Make me regret every waking minute, why don’t ya! I collapse daily! I collapse daily into a giant mound of tube socks and sob until my tear ducts inflame to the size of limes. Try me, you phony!”
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Towards a New Form of Encapsulated Album Review
The Eagles: Their Complete Works
The Eagles (self-titled, 1972) This reminds us of plaintive, medium-length drives through canyon country around sunset with a mild alcohol buzz perhaps. Maybe a drifter is picked up hitchhiking, and he rolls one for the road. Or maybe a waitress serves us an extra cup of coffee because she can see the lines on our faces; she can smell the miles ahead. An armadillo hides under his shell as another eighteen-wheeler passes, stirring dust devils. Neil Young glides up in an El Camino hawking stolen goods – we refuse, as the evening hue is distracting, fractured rays pirouetting about the thicket.
Desperado (1973) Soothing and yet, relentless. After being trapped and subsequently scalped by vicious elephant poachers then left bleeding under a rubber tree, we can find solace in this quintet’s soft, fireside harmony. Grammys are doled out like they’re hot potatoes. The lead singer is sick tonight; the lead singer refuses to sign the Asylum Records contract waiver. We watch, silently, admitting nothing as serum is injected, provoking an obviously forced response that will eventually be used against him in a court of law. When appeals are made, new evidence is discovered which prompts a mistrial. Several lawyers are laid off. The trial starts again, somewhere around track eight, titled “Outlaw Man”. Jurors complain that their employers do not pay compensation beyond Side One.
On the Border (1974) Is a pragmatist preferable over a risk-taker when it comes to choosing a mate? Or is it an immeasurable combination of the two? A variety of hot, in-shape singles were questioned on this matter and the answer was irrefutable: there will be a period of intense distress, followed by a respite that will calm even the most degenerate. A musty odor will embrace the landscape, and cultures that have heretofore been at odds will join hands in a stirring tribute to Bob Geldof. This too, will pass, and once again the question will be presented to all and sundry: whom – and this means you – whom would you choose?
One of These Nights (1975) Dear Laura, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I cannot fathom how you’d be willing to let Jeremy, a man you freely admit you barely know, stay at the house “until he gets it back together again.” You know how much I need privacy – I mean, you know how much I love the Night. You know how much I love to Get Down in the nighttime. You know it. That’s the way. Oh yeah, that’s the way I prefer it. Let me put it to you like this: when I’m unable to get the privacy I need to Get Down, within hours my nervous system evolves into a full six-megawatt generator. My interior is crushed into a fine gravy, or glue. The fillings in my teeth crumble and with each grotesque exhalation, my mouth blares the shrieking yowls of a thousand dead radio stations. Cable cars derail and mania grips the country. Only those currently at sea will be safe. My dialogue will be the broken logic of the cheapest vaudeville comedians. I will plunge my face into boiling garlic butter again, and again, and again. I beg of you to reconsider this horrible error in judgment.
Hotel California (1976) Announcer: With Joe Walsh now in the band, the Eagles’ fifth album “Hotel California” has streaked to the top of the charts for the 15th week in a row! Let’s hear that title track again. Let’s hear it again and again. Let’s press hard to make each note of the guitar solo emblazon the crannies of the brains of each and every one of you out there, so that it will trigger a sense-memorial response so violent that it will hypnotize you to purchase the album between one and three thousand times between the first listen and death. Eagles producer Bill Szymczyk, also one of the country’s most renowned neuroscientists, developed the mind-control technique in conjunction with financial backing from an anonymous donor.
The Long Run (1979)
“Who was that who called?”
“I don’t know. They hung up.”
“Could you hear anyone on the other end of the line? I mean, maybe it was a telemarketer.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“We’ve been getting a lot of those lately.”
“Yeah.”
Eagles Live (1980) Members of the family began popping by when they found out I had contracted the rash, although you could tell they were keeping their distance in person, whether subconsciously or not. It’s not contagious though. Like blood poisoning, the rash starts around an open wound, then moves toward the heart. But unlike any other rash, it affects the vessels that carry blood, so the outside tissues of the arteries become covered with acne. It’s an “indoors rash,” the doctors call it. Itching becomes intolerable within a week or so. Doctors open the skin in various spots, insert a pair of tweezers and pop the most offending of the zits. My doctor insists that this is treatable, and that the others that have contracted this rash have gone on to lead normal lives. In the meantime I greet the family, who jitter and make nervous conversation while they wait for me to tell them that it’s okay for them to go home.
Hell Freezes Over (1994) “A triumphant return”; “fourteen years in the making”; “stunning guitars”; “like they’ve never left the stage”; “brilliant”; “showmen”, “four exclusive new songs”, “in rare form”, “long-awaited”, “much-anticipated”, “legendary "sound”; “bonafide classic”; “fifteen tracks”; “freeway intersection”; “potable water”; “ergonomics”; “steak”; “the”.
The Eagles (self-titled, 1972) This reminds us of plaintive, medium-length drives through canyon country around sunset with a mild alcohol buzz perhaps. Maybe a drifter is picked up hitchhiking, and he rolls one for the road. Or maybe a waitress serves us an extra cup of coffee because she can see the lines on our faces; she can smell the miles ahead. An armadillo hides under his shell as another eighteen-wheeler passes, stirring dust devils. Neil Young glides up in an El Camino hawking stolen goods – we refuse, as the evening hue is distracting, fractured rays pirouetting about the thicket.
Desperado (1973) Soothing and yet, relentless. After being trapped and subsequently scalped by vicious elephant poachers then left bleeding under a rubber tree, we can find solace in this quintet’s soft, fireside harmony. Grammys are doled out like they’re hot potatoes. The lead singer is sick tonight; the lead singer refuses to sign the Asylum Records contract waiver. We watch, silently, admitting nothing as serum is injected, provoking an obviously forced response that will eventually be used against him in a court of law. When appeals are made, new evidence is discovered which prompts a mistrial. Several lawyers are laid off. The trial starts again, somewhere around track eight, titled “Outlaw Man”. Jurors complain that their employers do not pay compensation beyond Side One.
On the Border (1974) Is a pragmatist preferable over a risk-taker when it comes to choosing a mate? Or is it an immeasurable combination of the two? A variety of hot, in-shape singles were questioned on this matter and the answer was irrefutable: there will be a period of intense distress, followed by a respite that will calm even the most degenerate. A musty odor will embrace the landscape, and cultures that have heretofore been at odds will join hands in a stirring tribute to Bob Geldof. This too, will pass, and once again the question will be presented to all and sundry: whom – and this means you – whom would you choose?
One of These Nights (1975) Dear Laura, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I cannot fathom how you’d be willing to let Jeremy, a man you freely admit you barely know, stay at the house “until he gets it back together again.” You know how much I need privacy – I mean, you know how much I love the Night. You know how much I love to Get Down in the nighttime. You know it. That’s the way. Oh yeah, that’s the way I prefer it. Let me put it to you like this: when I’m unable to get the privacy I need to Get Down, within hours my nervous system evolves into a full six-megawatt generator. My interior is crushed into a fine gravy, or glue. The fillings in my teeth crumble and with each grotesque exhalation, my mouth blares the shrieking yowls of a thousand dead radio stations. Cable cars derail and mania grips the country. Only those currently at sea will be safe. My dialogue will be the broken logic of the cheapest vaudeville comedians. I will plunge my face into boiling garlic butter again, and again, and again. I beg of you to reconsider this horrible error in judgment.
Hotel California (1976) Announcer: With Joe Walsh now in the band, the Eagles’ fifth album “Hotel California” has streaked to the top of the charts for the 15th week in a row! Let’s hear that title track again. Let’s hear it again and again. Let’s press hard to make each note of the guitar solo emblazon the crannies of the brains of each and every one of you out there, so that it will trigger a sense-memorial response so violent that it will hypnotize you to purchase the album between one and three thousand times between the first listen and death. Eagles producer Bill Szymczyk, also one of the country’s most renowned neuroscientists, developed the mind-control technique in conjunction with financial backing from an anonymous donor.
The Long Run (1979)
“Who was that who called?”
“I don’t know. They hung up.”
“Could you hear anyone on the other end of the line? I mean, maybe it was a telemarketer.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“We’ve been getting a lot of those lately.”
“Yeah.”
Eagles Live (1980) Members of the family began popping by when they found out I had contracted the rash, although you could tell they were keeping their distance in person, whether subconsciously or not. It’s not contagious though. Like blood poisoning, the rash starts around an open wound, then moves toward the heart. But unlike any other rash, it affects the vessels that carry blood, so the outside tissues of the arteries become covered with acne. It’s an “indoors rash,” the doctors call it. Itching becomes intolerable within a week or so. Doctors open the skin in various spots, insert a pair of tweezers and pop the most offending of the zits. My doctor insists that this is treatable, and that the others that have contracted this rash have gone on to lead normal lives. In the meantime I greet the family, who jitter and make nervous conversation while they wait for me to tell them that it’s okay for them to go home.
Hell Freezes Over (1994) “A triumphant return”; “fourteen years in the making”; “stunning guitars”; “like they’ve never left the stage”; “brilliant”; “showmen”, “four exclusive new songs”, “in rare form”, “long-awaited”, “much-anticipated”, “legendary "sound”; “bonafide classic”; “fifteen tracks”; “freeway intersection”; “potable water”; “ergonomics”; “steak”; “the”.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)