Flame Thrower

Burning up the bad feelings, wave good-bye and they’re ash. This is it, the definitive step over the threshold, haven’t done it this well before. Apparently there’s a big prime rib in the oven. The questions asked are not abstract and all hands shook have blood in them. Yes, that house has burned down, along with those bad feelings that were remembered for way too long. No need to reinvent the wheel—accept the drink. Low-hanging fruit, be the one who grabs it. Uncle, those are cool glasses. Oh, so this is a terrarium, is it not? She’s pretty and empty, someone to study for inspiration. Don’t say that to them, they might get the wrong idea. Somehow we’ve all arrived alive and there’s no more or less about that. There hasn’t actually been a derailment. Oughtn’t one ought to…? Please go on. The ocean swirls outside the windows, putting inside the windows into perspective. There isn’t anything wrong with ignoring everyone for a few years, including oneself. The money will come, that’s inevitable. Until then, would hate to get mistaken for a grown-up. Nobody’s going to call out LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION here. Whenever whenever whenever it’s time to really start appreciating this. Oil rolling over his pale body. That house is ash and this is it. She seems to be acclimating fine. Let’s toast our host.

Believe she’s empty because she said so once, that she doesn’t really care about anything. Or nothing bothers her is maybe how she put it. Uncle talks about his summers way up north, living where the sun doesn’t set. Everything’ll work out OK if you just ignore your instincts. Sleeping-wise. Toilet trip because sitting around too long leads to death by stabbing. How many systems have been tried-out so far? Seems like a new embodiment each month, just about. Only one life to fill. Simple questions are hard to answer when considering the pathetic nature of earnestness. Palm trees in the mirror, against clouds, something mysterious. Don’t wait to be ready, there will be a refill somewhere. At a certain point the breakdowns lost their nervousness and learned to approach the void with confidence. Remember that mountain pass and that mountain lake and that dramatic light. Shadows fell thousands of feet. These eyes should have more life in them. Pooping is almost always a pleasure.

Assume that the way things are is the way they’re supposed to be because that’s the way they are. Easier this way, though obviously incorrect, and all things will pass. George Harrison stressed the importance of dressing comfortably. A whiskey would be wonderful, if that’s an option. OK, wine’s fine too. Can’t keep fighting the same battle every single day. The Worm burned up with the house and Death’s Door is getting closer with each breath. Make haste, for this is the evening. Look out for the opportunity to say something funny. Opportunity found, moderate laugh. Uncle asks why she doesn’t try the wine and she volunteers the whole truth because she doesn’t care enough to evade. Prime rib’s almost ready, two windows are fogging up, the ocean and the palm trees are almost erased. The year-ago delusion that a great organization was underway. She’s not making the choice because either way is fine with her and yes, that is hard to believe. The big recognition still hasn’t come, all decisions must be made with that in mind, no real commitments have been committed, nothing bothers her anyway. A good question deserving a good answer, nothing satisfactory provided. That house is ash and this is it. Waves can be heard, would hate to get mistaken for a grown-up. Meat cut and new seats taken, we eat.