Remembrance of Things Not Past

What? Gas? Kidney Stones? Bad checks? Save the Proust for the Proustian, kid, we got a murderer on the loose here in little Bangkok. It’s humid and smells of noodles and I wish I had been born an Andalusian shepherd, better yet an Andalusian sheep but here I am, having this battery-operated dream because as we all know they cut the power in 24 and I’ll be damned if I ride that stationary bike one more mile to get it going so you can track down the leads on this femme fatale. Yeah, I said it, she’s a real diamond dainty if you saw her on one of these mean streets but better detectives than you saw through that façade with the snap of old blue eyes’ thumb and finger. She’s killing egos kid, as many as she can find and there’s never been any shortage of those in this bad dreamscape of sushi and glitter and hot house orchids all vying for the title of Miss most likely to get a million likes and have Mark turn your personal power supply back on to run re-runs of M*A*S*H or maybe just microwave a bag of jimson weed popcorn. Why do we bother, kid, what if we catch her, she can split off aspect selves like shuriken throwing stars and before you know you’re out of here, you’re meditating in Mustang, or maybe drinking with the Rat Pack at the Sands? We all knew it would lead to this, there was no way that travesty they called life on earth could continue the way it was. The grays had to take over, had to step in like the adults they were in the middle of that combination food and pillow fight genocide. Thing was, they weren’t that much smarter. Oh, sure they could do wormholes and time space collapse but it was so much glorified Penn and Teller, they couldn’t stop her from coming along and beginning to dissolve the very fabric of existence, the raison d’etre of everything from fried rice to florist shops in the middle of downtown Hoboken! I mean, can you imagine? Good, because pretty soon that will be gone too. Don’t breathe too deeply in here kid, never know when the aromatics masquerading as incense will get all up in there and help her do her dirty work. Not so dirty you say? I suppose you think she’s pretty? A sort of Rosamunde Pike panache, oh yeah, I know that’s your type you don’t have to try to hide it. Yeah, I’ll miss it all when it goes, funny thing, some guys went back to Vietnam. I mean, why? To heal so they said, so I went back to my high school. Didn’t heal, didn’t miss it. But this run-down neighborhood with the street signs I can’t even read even after 40 years, well, we did some good here, didn’t we kid? We never got the place painted or even swept, and we never caught any criminals but we never killed anybody for no reason either, did we? And now it’s 4th down and 29 with 10 seconds on the clock and Tom Brady is nowhere in sight. She’s going to finish us off, kid, I don’t see any way she doesn’t. What are we going to arrest her for if we do catch her? Conspiracy to commit spiritual evolution? If you’ve got any ideas I’m listening, otherwise let’s have some noodles and tea.

 

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