THE WRITER MUST EAT -> patreon.com/trn1ty <-
blah!
ideas with no tangibility;
ideas with irrelevant supports;
ideas without value;
ideas' witlessness;
ideas' witnesses;
ideas-
<^>
2023-09-16
The pages got disorganized in my backpack, so here they are as I dig them out.
The View from Halfway Down is definitely from before any of the other pages, I
decided to change the name after the person for which I went to Florida noted
it was the name of a Bojack Horseman episode.
---
Homelessness is a crime few want to commit. Dear vagabonds and ruffians, the
former being my category, do, though I thought carefully before deciding. Most
don't. Human beings need creature comforts, consistency, safety. Maybe I'm not
a __real__ vagabond. I'd like housing. I just can't fathom honest safety;
acceptance.
Salsa shark.
I'm not a real programmer, not a real writer, not a real vagabond, not a real
human, not a real woman, barely a cook - a bad one, and a burden on my loved
ones. The voices in my head disagree. When did I become the negative one?
I imagine if I don't catch a bus in 7 hours I will be swept into the ocean. I
understand - no, kin - Dostoevsky.
I will start asking others to help me. I sort of wish my ancestors stayed in
Finland. But I wouldn't have met [...], [...], [...]...
Draft kinlist
- Patrick Bateman
- Ryan Gosling
- ANARCHY Stocking
- IBUKI Maya
- AMANE Misa
- My friend Lily from Maine
- Saul Goodman
- Mike from Breaking Bad
- Mr. Triangle from Gravity Falls
- Charlie Chaplin
- Dostoevsky
- Franz Kafka
- Abandoned Magic Outlet
- Randall from Clerks
- Rorshach
---
Rules for the road: charging
Charge your biggest battery first. Use it last. Batteries before devices.
If near a power source, use it. 1% is a text message.
Charge as much as possible; if there are as many power sources as you have
devices, all your devices should be charging.
Use 1 device at a time, if necessary, if you can help it.
Internet takes battery. Cell networks take more.
2117: Departing Jacksonville
---
THE VIEW FROM HALFWAY DOWN (pg. 1)
My job is to separate the bones. I stand at South Station in front of a
conveyer belt - my conveyer belt, just for me - and dip my hands through the
skim and pick the bones out of the line. The bones go to the vat to my right,
to level twenty-something, where the marrow is extracted and they make the
jelly. The meat, the fat, and most importantly, the blood, go further down the
line and to level 31 which I can see below me. Level 31 is where the content is
homogenized.
I saw and talked to someone when I was in training. I don't remember its name.
It handed me my scalpel and taught me where to cut. The torso is handled by
those before me, whose work I admire. I admired the eyes to whose nose I
talked. The stainless steel. Smell of warmth. Blood from limb.
Those before me cut a Y into the chest and take the organs. My turn is already
hollowed so I use my scalpel to - efficiently - extract the bones from the
forearm, the upper arm, calves, thighs. Cut dip pull move. Cut dip pull move.
I can tell when a new hire takes over. The cuts aren't as neat, more is taken
with the organs than necessary.
It's so loud. Something always needs chopping, grinding. I hear dremels above
me sawing through bone. Everything is red.
I separate the bones because I was told to do so, and separating the bones is
how I am let live, let breathe, let sip, let eat the meat. My first day is my
breath, my second water, my third my apartment, my fourth this. This meat.
It is ground and turned to food. People beget people beget me. Simply. I
remember it that begot me. My handcuffs were unlocked in front of a
blue-painted skyscraper, my home.
---
Today I woke up next to [...]
and the [...]
oh, to think, since it's been 48 hours
today's four days long shoulda already been home
I can't remember yesterday, it's sure been a while
Since I asked did we - did you - while reaching for my phone
[...]
it's been two days since yesterday and I still haven't seen [...]
I missed my bus, shit, went to the wrong station
the agent told me there wasn't any way to change it
$250 down the drawin and I slept under a palm tree
a friend booked the next ticket, owed me, now I'll pay the difference
---
machine
and no there won't
be a sequel
---
[grossly inaccurate drawing of the fifty United States
---
THE VIEW FROM HALFWAY DOWN (pg. 2)
From the top of the skyscraper I heard the bellows of the heavens. The distance
made the roar fade and twist into a melodious drone that seemed to be the tone
of the local crimson soil and the resonance of being. I clutched the railing of
the lift upwards, 33 stories minus none, that carried me into the low ashen
clouds. The noise crescendoed.
It was halfway up that lift, 16 stories or so, that I met my predecessor. We
made eye contact, me slowly going up and it, stained all over in various films
of scarlet, swiftly descending. In a second I heard vague yowls of excitement
far below me.
Suicide is the most natural way to die. By choice rather than by chance. In my
opinion to die in such a way as to mix impure brain or spine with meat is to
end in selfishness, to ensure death with one's calories.
To say nothing of the crime. I stayed on the lift because that is my job and my
duty, and I realize that now. I committed a heinous act. I don't remember it
and naturally could not therefore defend myself. I now commit all my heinous
acts to memory.
I was a cook. My job was to render meat into meals; patties, stew, sausage, and
sometimes delicacies if a person to me noble came to the kitchen. I thought the
work was difficult.
I like to think about dying. To be separating my own bones on line. When I die
I'd like my cuts to be beautiful, sharp and clean, by those professional
processors that have honed their craft with their blade.
Sometimes the bones are broken. Sometimes all the bones are broken. Nothing was
not deafening. But nothing, too, became deafening. The drone joined my silence,
residue in my riddled brain. I lie awake at night, if for nothing else then the
cacophony.
---
THE VIEW FROM HALFWAY DOWN (pg. 3)
I have been chauffered from place to place, as if I am cattle, since I was very
young. Perhaps it has been this way forever. I love my job. I love the smell.
It may seem unbelievable but it's true, I was raised in the smell, I know the
scent of blood better than flesh, I love the smell. I have also made my peace
with the unending mechanical thunder. I can't hear much else. My fingers may as
well have been tattooed red. Cut dip pull move.
I don't know where the people came from. Nor do I know whom I would ask. I live
just as well.
---
2023-08-19 T 1400
ON A GREYHOUND...
An hour or so ago, between Lewiston (Maine) & Portland (Maine), the driver
stopped the bus, opened the door, stepped out, took some paces into Maine's
ubiquitous forest, and out of our sight, pissed.
There's something about commercial transit in this state that makes ya gotta
go, I suppose.
I'm sitting wedged against my pack and carryon, Lynn, never before mentioned
stuffed IKEA shark, above me, wondering when I can smoke my next cigarette.
I imagine Lynn is wondering when I'll again quit.
Greyhound is comfortably, perhaps haphazardly, disorganized. I was hoping I
could stow my pack under the bus. Funny thing about hope... I've been rereading
Watchmen and listening to the driver's radio. 80s? 60s-80s?
I wanna see [...]. 150mins down. 2790mins to go. At least by my small mental
scratchpad. I'm embarrassed to do the math out on this real pad. I have 3
calculators...
---
PHONE ATT.
------------- -------------
| INT SDA SCL | | SCL SDA INT |
| DCIN 5V GND | | GND 5V DCIN |
------------- -------------
-------------
| 1 _ DCIN ___|
| 2 _ VOUT ___|
| 3 _ GND ____|
| 4 _ SCL ____|
| 5 _ SDA ____|
| 6 _ INT ____|
-------------
---
2023年08月27日
I SHOULD BE ON A GREYHOUND...
Today is sunday so I guess I'll start from last Monday.
On the 21st, 1300 or so, I arrived in Orlando Florida, city - city? - of dear
hearts and weak knees. I was here to see a beloved someone and soak up some sun
and have a good time. I've never been to Florida before - in fact, I'd only
been as far as Virginia, which I didn't particularly like. I remember being
disappointed we couldn't go to a Kentucky KFC. How goals change...
I called an ex-roommate and we spoke about how things were up in Maine: not
great. Then I called [...] who was on its way over to pick me up, on a car trip
longer than I would expect (20mins? 30?). After confusion about where it was
going (the nearest Family Dollar so I could get deodorant after spending 49
hours on a bus) it arrived.
It was shorter in meatspace than I expected. More beautiful. We met on-line in
[...] after a video call in which I noticed it and got flustered at how hot it
was and it got flustered at my calling it fucking stunningly gorgeous and
everyone else in the video call in the programming community sat in silence. I
threw my backpack and carry-on in the back of the car and got in the passenger
seat and I got flustered and it got flustered still more than half a year later
for the same reasons.
Every siren makes me nervous. I know how this city treats its homeless. City?
---
Orlando isn't what I, a Mainer, imagine a city to be. Before Florida's
colonization and sterilization it was just a swamp or something like that -
every presence, as well as every absense, is deliberate. It's strange how much
absence there is. Sprawling empty parking lots, five-lane roads, lines of palm
trees and now cars and the empty Magic Outlet in front of me. A city is dense.
You can walk to another restaurant in less than five minutes if you're not
enjoying your meal. People talk to you, maybe not in your language but a little
gesturing goes a long way. There is nobody in Orlando except the sun and the
heat.
1730. No new text messages. I'm considering pawning my sleeping bag.
1804. 1 new text message.
On the 21st, 1500 or so, after some typical affection - as in, the act, not as
in what it meant to me - I took my first shower since about 2300-0100 between
the 18th and 19th in Maine. The water in Orlando is excellent. Ice is a must as
most taps only allow a selection between hot and lukewarm due to the
temperature.
Then I don't remember. And what I can remember doesn't belong here.
I thought nechan was eye-chan, but eye is me [this is Japanese; pronounced
"meh"]. Its eyes are beautiful. Much of this week I was paralyzed in awe at how
beautiful my girlfriend is. It is also just in general an excellent person. We
cooked dinner together nearly every night, it learning my rat bastard scarcity
recipes and I learning what real food tastes like and how to pronounce
jalape~no (hah lah peh nyo).
"There's something inside you. It's hard to explain. They're talking about you,
boy, but you're still the same."
---
I think it's going to rain and I have no shelter. Maybe I could figure a way
into that Magic Outlet but I have too much in my backpack to hop a fence and no
decent tools for lockpicking.
1833. No new text messages.
Received SMS from ??? ([...]) at 2023-08-27T17:07:38-0400:
stay as safe as you can please
TRINITY: Would you still love me if I was a worm?
[...]: No.
TRINITY: ...
I would still love you if you were a worm.
[...]: You love me?
I'm sorry for not showing it with my actions. Of course I love you. That was
what I was figuring out while I disappeared.
I don't know how to ask for what I need.
Magic Outlet Mall: Brand Names for Less
says the sign's faded vestige on tan-gray bricks
above palm trees yellow tape abandoned commerce sign
the magic outlet tapped out ain't that just the way
I don't miss my bed because I never had a bed
I had an air mattress flattened every morning by seven
then I got a foam slab but I'd still feel the bedframe
I don't miss my bed, I miss having my own space.
Magic Outlet Mall: Brand Names for Less
now here we both lie in the dirt at sunset
the light here is different prettier in many ways
better home than my last home, no roaches or sleeping bag cat spray
1-800-FL-LEGAL I just keyed a Tesla
my magic outlet sleeping space saw a rich asshole intruder
where will you deport me bitch barely of this earth
I'm from an orbiter of mars and polycule network
---
2004. No new messages.
I just heard a cicada for the first time. They're deafening. Like a car alarm
in immediate proximity. They make a piezo buzz like they're charging up a
missile and continue to target you with an otherworldly humm until the sun
finishes its descent.
The sun and his heat are gone. It is me and Luna and Gaia that remain. Lights
are on at the magic outlet. I guess it had a little more power.
I did not need my laptop, tech repair kit, phone parts, or two tablets. I
should have brought 1 tablet, my phone, and that's it. I needed a UV5R with
extended battery. I did not need the condoms. Gay sex is better anyway. I miss
my 5.11 RUSH 48. The ALICE's organization isn't great and it's harder to pass
unnoticed. Better would be TSA carry-on sized, then I wouldn't need to part
with my luggage. Greyhound never searched me. I'm covered in mosquito bites.
---
2023年08月28日
Hurricane Idalia - maybe only a tropical storm, I'm not sure - hits Florida
tomorrow, and for that I will need to either stay with a friend or find a
strong umbrella.
My bivy didn't survive the night, kinda shit but makes good insulation from the
ground. I could have roughed it but I wanted to be comfortable and I was
worried about bugs. I'm really unfamiliar with the local flora and fauna.
I had tickets to Billy Joel and Arctic Monkeys. I was only excited to see the
friend with which I booked them. And now the plan is to go back to our
hometown.
I'm scruffy and my hair is wack. We - as in, my girlfriend and I, which is a
delight for me to write - were planning on watching a lot of vampire movies:
Nosferatu, Only Lovers Left Alive, and Shadow of the Vampire. We ended up
watching the old classics American Psycho, Clerks, and Drive. It had never seen
Clerks and I had never seen Drie. Nor had [...] who was there Saturday. I
didn't catch a lot of the plot of Drive as I was distracted but [...] explained
it in the morning and it seems like a good movie. I was surprised at how
graphic [...]'s death in the movie was, it was a little triggering to be
honest.
It feels good to be bitten. Bitten hard. Bitten so hard you have a mark the
next day, a bruise after a week. It feels good to bite. I bite weakly,
cautiously. I bite worried about the mark and tearing flesh and the pain. It
feels better to be bitten by one that does not care. But I feel bad when I
don't care.
<^>
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