COLUMNS
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Millions of Mouthtalk: The "TASTE" Chronicles (September 2013)
with Weaver and Kouns
RW: I saw the Giant Hand everywhere. You don't understand. That hand does everything and goes all over the over the place. I saw it wanding a gavel gavel all over you and blue boy IN THE ATLANTIS AIRPORT.
ZK: UH-OH. I just experienced the first ancient, archetypal, anxious pain of the first human being that ever existed. Don't kid around with me, kiddo. I saw you following me in Wayne National Forest last night. I was Bug Bite. My dad was there with a censer. He asked me what was the matter? I knew how to answer him but I spoke too slowly and we all drowned in a lake. I saw you die, buddy. I resurrected you. It was against the law.
RW: Problems of my own here. (Picture of RW standing next to a pink monster) Thanks for bringing me back. Her's a love pic of me and my old me. (Picture of a RW next to a pink monster.)
ZK: We can build a lawless land. I saw 6 suns in the sky today. People tearing at their boils until they lacerated they're beating hearts. The last seal has been uncovered. Liberty is lunacy. I'm writing a sad film for us crybabys to film. I bet it'll make Blue Boy cry but I'm past tears now that I'm on the loose juice soyboy. “Ingrid Thulin and the Sexual Impulse” IT'S GOLD. I KNOW THAT. There's blood on the back of my blouse. Bergmann didn't put it there. I know that. You play her. I play Max Von Sydow. Nope. I'm the donkey with ribs showing. It's final.
RW: Foreskin of the Big Bopper.
ZK: Oh no you don't. Sign Off died the death of a thousand mouths in the 1500s. Check the history books smart guy.
RW: I am Sign Off. I am a great “guitar and drums combo. I am the composer. I am lost. I just lived your life for you. A great final stretch. A swan dive. I am lost.
ZK: Microwave Dave will save you a bundle of switches, banana britches. He's got the steals on vowels and vowels so disavow the other vendors as oafish surrenders. The 4 Skin of Weaver. YEAH MOUTH. I ESCORT ALL JAGUARS AGAINST THE ROAD. THAT MAKES ME WELL BEHAVED.
RW: Your number is disconnected. You're losing it you little Appalachian doll. We need to get you patched up. Put your number where your mouth is, Patch Adams. All connections are severed.
ZK: You've pushed the wrong switch, STITCH, OK TELL ME THE RULES IF YOU'VE GOT THE GUTS. Horse is in the lot. He's a whole lot of horse.
RW: You put three tiny claw marks here?
ZK: What tangled webbed feet you weave, Weaver. I'm long gone. Tired of getting it together for a bunch of tire feathers. Hearing is believing, little wind friend. You got a lot of swimming to do.
RW: Sounds like you need a SNACK little green bean. Consult the BOWL.
ZK: Ah, the prattle cattle out there on the pernicious prairies, plying his parade and applying his appliances to sins and ends. Lick it off the sidewalk, sundrum.
RW: Harassed by the regional canary. The third dot judge in bearable parable camouflage burns witch village burn tie it loosely.
ZK: Euclid, Euclid, Euclid. Stuck in the summer swamp of the middle ages. The harrowing of hell, bell boy; burnt bees burning and yearning, discerning and ferning. Sammy sans Sammy. That's the wind itself and finally me and maybe the Samothracian cult. That's the bodies mating in the seas, castrated and lapping up licklambs.
RW: It's not a whimper albert's burn mark the problem of pebble early worship cattle spill
ZK: Follow me, festival fever. Disrobe, disgorge, disease, disembody, disaster, Disaronno. Your fur is burning. I can smell the fire. 5 Orange bones building lakes billowing with brimstone, the 4 eyes of the corrupt sea, brine and swine, wine and dine dimwit. Rise and cries from 3 blind flies.
RW: Don't mock a wrong muscle. When I wake tork in the min don't mix words. Let me explain myself myself for rob. Let me almost explain myself. My stew near complete. Looks nice next to his dying slug. Frozen by the lam look. Ham hocks in hog haven. Not a trap worth taming. Yes, nice for you since you know ham, but not so toothed for the undergrinder. Not so noosed by the underbite. Classic in a way. I remember the crying couches. Sad rat. Sab wreck. I bet you'd like to know. What a liar the fools are. Dumb as a dog park. Liars are for an ear cry. Before I knew you better. Before I knew the wet. Wetter than a fifth hand to ecstasy. Lend a film to our beppo.
ZK: Dig deeper, Stig Bleeper.
RW: All I wanted was for the truck to stop, not this whole ape thunder thing and to make matters worse the bongo smells of gasoline. OK so I did mean to flip the bed of the truck JUST TO GET THE BONGOS.
ZK: Dregs of Bongos and TASTED their malicious rhythmic TASTE. I'm the muscle. You know that by TASTE.
RW: OK ok. I will come clean. There is no problem. I just wanted to get you over here in order to borrow your bongos. I'm writing a new jingle for AX. We've got another hit product in our paws. It's called the “crime that pays the teleprompter” and it's a lovely little clunker. I wanted to surprise you but now you know.
ZK: I already knew but I loved your little teaser/pleaser. We're about to show those Canucks who wrote the history books.
RW: Lila Marie said not to leave this shelter until after The Great Flop. I've got a proverb on my hams. Line and sinker. Von made a wish. He just made a wish; wetly nightly. New to me. Trouble dribble. Saddle up cousin, no brew can tease good news from Cae. Don't spoil the disintegration. I am through the moron. Webby unsightly. Shake em down Mr. Monsoon. I am through with Vapp. Corner me, Sue Barley. Traffic pattern shakes my snakeskin. I love two of their three glows. No guessing, though. Just let them loose. Wet whisper: “ I am sorry. Your ghost is behind the pineal fern. Come home with me now. She isn't coming back.” -Crop Crop just said “you shouldn't have said that.” Cae said “if you don't open him I will scream” butterbalm knew it was out of ovum's sight. My scheme is to record the lotus hurrying to the gnaw cob. Oh well. Back to the tent of ti. Oh well. Bawling in tie's twine. Word is “tear” --use it in the right place (ti's place) to get your new pineal fern. Oh well. Time is Ty Up. I love to see the wincing mob. Oh well ty twerp my age and BPA got to slide the clobber first. Oh well I am weeping webber's wormy vixen from a secret nostril. Oh well the catch. Catch me in the act. Call at the right moment. Call and ask for Von at Climax. Music to my ears, clear as a cuckold. Can't tell if they are sleigh bells or barbs. He's giving me mouth tastes. Please send me all their night time numbers. I have words for the whole team. It's really love. That's why I sold Blue Brock to conceal myself under her shoe. I have a million words on every one of her toes. I built a fake room for us. If you know anything you'll tell her. From stilts to riches. The whole team know it. They can feel and taste right now. I brought them here for you and me. The whole world knows. We are aging with dignity. Just you and me and the whole team in the fake room with the fake books on rope.
ZK: I saw how life begins. There are no sons. There are no daughters. That young girl got eaten up by animals AND YOU KNEW IT ALL ALONG. A fat man's stinking heart. Children shitting in their own mouths. I'm pretty scared of horses and you can write that in your little notebook. I saw you standing in the doorway of a room painted burnt orange. It was night outside and through a window you could see birch branches moved by strong wind. Species suspension. “Hey Blue Boy, Rick's in trouble. Frank is gonna play bass for that band Frankie Ocean that you're in. I've got Rick in the Tent of Tears pouring Baja Blast on his wounds but I need someone to cover the next shift.”
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