what i won’t do
i’m not going to eat around strangers
i mean other people
i’ve made it very clear
the helpless Piltdown mastication drives me
to an inexplicable distraction.
i look at you and I see an hourglass figure
sand in all the right niches
a lipless x-ray skull filmed in profile artlessly chomping
chomping and chomping
chomping and chomping
i see that everywhere
lipless awful chomping
like a death skull but lit up by x-ray
and ravenously chomping
the mandibles and chomping more annoyingly vertical
when undisguised by fancy-flesh
you’ve seen the film
probably around the 4th grade
why eat after that
why ever eat again
we have to eat a little
but not in front of these assholes
idiot mandibles disrobed, no lips, no flesh
know what that looks like?
looks like the skull is smiling, smiling like an idiot
the village moron smiling and cracking his gum
smiling and chomping smiling and chomping
while a rolling shadow of x-ray chow
gets hustled around the inside of the yap
like a wilding victim, this x-rayed bolus of food
hustled and harassed from molar to molar
until finally the great heaving translucent tongue
rises out of x-ray nowhere, pulses disgustingly into the cavern
to throw the thing slickly down the back stair.
Oh yum. They’re bringing out the hors-d’oeuvres.
No thank you.
They’re bringing out the catered hors-d’oeuvres.
No thank you.
Honey, just eat a fucking hors-d’oeuvre, it’s popcorn shrimp on a Ritz cracker.
Can you even hear what you’re saying? I’m not gonna eat in front of these people.
DON’T YOU YES HONEY ME. Listen. C’mere. Let me take you aside.
Don’t fuck up my office party.
Some mornings I wake up and the world is a contusion.
Oh, shit. Don’t fuck up my office party.
– whole fucking world a stubbed toe –
EAT THE CRACKER
What is this?
I’ll tell you what this is. Put your purse down. Put it down. Do you know what your mouth is going to do to that Ritz cracker?
I don’t —
You’re scaring me. You idiot!
Oh, you’re scared. Take a look at an x-ray of your yap working a Ritz cracker.
I just got this job!
Smiling and chomping. You can’t even call it chewing!
This whole charade is a horror show.
Ssshht! Look, just don’t think about it. How hard is that. It’s an hors-d’oeuvre. IT’S A CRACKER.
I saw the HR lady eating over there by the empanadas, that’s another thing. She put the matter in her mouth and it disappeared.
…what the fuck are you talking about —
She put the food into her mouth and it disappeared. Where did it go? The mouth moves, and the jaw. The stuff doesn’t come back out. It’s gone. It’s gone. Where? Pushed down a living hole, that’s where. You’re cool with that? I am not. Pushed down a hole. I’m not comfortable with that. I’m not going to stand around with these jokers and push stuff into my mouth.
It does come back out! what’s wrong with you!
You know what I mean
NO I DON’T
I’m not eating with those people. I am not going to beat off into a plastic vial.
Oh my fucking god
Can’t I go into a room at the clinic with a magazine. Like in the rom-coms?
Oh my god!
“Please masturbate into this brown plastic pill bottle then race it back to us before the sperm die. DRIVE YOUR SPERM ACROSS TOWN, BREAK THE SPEED LIMIT IF YOU HAVE TO. Run into the clinic like Jack Lord. Hand the pill bottle full of your sperm over to the young lady behind the front desk.” huh UH! YOU masturbate into a pill bottle! YOU hand an attractive young volunteer a plastic bottle full of YOUR living sperm. You mandibular jackasses! Screw you!
<hissing> Eat the fucking cracker you asshole!! Eat the cracker!
the mandlebrot set
An infinitely finite number
or number set, rather,
which when expressed graphically
flaunts its recursive hoo-ha
in lavish fractals and floral expressions
of frustrated finitude.
The Mandlebrot set.
what a stupid name.
So annoying. So fucking annoying.
did he have a lot of time on his hands or what.
Who thinks this shit up?
Benoit Mandlebrot, for one.
that’s what the Mandlebrot set is to me
a guy with all the time in the world. this is what he does with it.
Do my dishes, Mandlebrot, you asshole.
Fibernucci, too, or whatever.
Clean out my closets, Fibernucci!
you layabout theorists!
not to sound like a government functionary
giving your collider the bad budget news
but what of the application
just look at this dump
spacetime may be a superfluid
what can that mean
when the sink looks like this
-you mean Mandelbrot –
stop pulling that goddamned dog
mans’s best friend
is an expensive afghan hound
afghan may mean drone strikes somewhere.
here in the u.s.
afghan means a sleek-looking hound
at the end of a grasped leash.
aw look at the doggie
look at all the doggies
aw man’s best friends
you can’t have a dog
you’ll never take the dog out for a walk
aw yes I will, I promise.
and even if you do
it’s an idiot’s game.
man’s best friend spends every minute straining
against the leash
does anyone notice that?
man’s best friend wants to run
sniff pee-pee at every bush
make a little pee-pee himself
and take off running again.
“whoa, that’s a tall order.
i want a best friend, sure;
a loyal yes-companion from the ranks
of the docile lower animals.
but this is man’s dominion.
we made it to the top
climbed here with our thumbs.
where the hell are your thumbs, little doggie.
you’ll be at the end of my taut leash.”
he doesn’t know he’s an afghan
and the pricey Shih Tzu’s id is indistinguishable
from that of the three-legged living rag
that nervous guy sold your neighbor
the Shih Tzu looks at the three-legged rag and thinks
not bad at all.
the dumbass Shih Tzu doesn’t know from dominion
it has been bred to walk from room to room.
“interesting breed! what are they bred for?”
to walk from room to room
none of these best friends know what they are
they just want to screw each other
and eat and make pee-pee
is that such a big deal
you get to do that every day
or nearly every day
can your best friend
maybe take a crack at it, asshole?
loosen that leash.
I said loosen it, jackass
i will knock you down
aw look at him strain
aw his little face
he doesn’t know he’s a prisoner
you dog wants to run
aw man’s best friend.
he wants only to run!
but after maybe 30 self-congratulating minutes
you’ll be fatigued from hurling
the slimed ball in its plastic “Lower-Animals-R-Us®” claw
let’s get back to the condo
and leave our companion alone
back to the kingdom of man
back to a blanket in a basket
and a synthetic Purina snack of glued brown powder
shaped like a cartoon bone.
i’ll need more convincing
light can be both particle and wave
dual mutually exclusive properties.
they proved it with slits.
i’ll need more convincing.
and what of it
two states at once?
what of it
that’s fine at the planck scale.
up here where the sun shines
on an upturned face
it’s another story
we’re a stupendous car wreck
of highly organized particles
a momentary spasm of beige brownian movement
invisible and inconsequential.
they recorded a couple making MRI love
and it was a nightmare of wet machinery
bumping and horrific
you saw everything
two machine-filled bags
and some urgent swarming
but it says here our electric laughter
rings through the numbing eons
past where microlensing events
suggest other rocks and other skies
other lawnmowers in repose
under the blanched light of other suns
other realms. bikes, homework and cars
other blushing kids sneaking kisses
catching breath, afraid to smile. smiling helplessly.
for real. this part is real.
our embraces are finally meaningless, yeah. Probably.
no fear, no pain. no nothing.
just this mindless, schemeless bowl
kind of ordinary,
but filled to the lip with gorgeous collapsing stars.