THAT FACE YOU MAKE WHEN IT’S ABOUT TO BE YOUR TURN
HURRICANE ALEXANDER
(The bridge between the audience and me is big (too big), and wide (too wide) …)
How can I bridge this gap?
I’m spinning,
I mean,
I’m spinning,
I mean …
Wait. …
I’ll start over;
I’m spinning.
(Let me start over:
It’s your turn to spin.)
Let me start over.
I'm spinning.
(YAY!)
I …
I mean
I’m digging …
…
I mean …
I’m digging my nails into the walls, (glass jaw, crack den then lock jaw)
digging, wrapping
a white tarp
around my face
and trying to scream
bark (cry, die …);
and trying the chocolate
fountain (Dip!
Yum!)
casting whatever’s left of my spirit into the dark and emptying
my pockets …
That’s a little more money
for rope and stool and
I ALREADY TOLD YOU
I’M SICK!
I’M SO SICK!!!
(SH!!!
Don’t speak so loud
or they might find out …)
more money for old rope, Manila rope,
jaw rope …
from my ten-year bad trip in Berlin
(I’m shining a flashlight there.)
GLASS JAW
Crack den then lock jaw …
(I’m shining a flashlight there!!)
Got a bag?
A plate?
(Do you believe in fate?) (Wanna sit on my face?)
I’m scratching an itch that isn’t my own – the clock ticks
slow
THE CLOCK TICKS
IT TICKS!!!
(and jerking off my dick)
I’m trying to make something that doesn’t look good to me look good to me.
Know what I mean?
I’m emptying my pockets:
Nut butter
Nut brittle
A dead boy
A very old toy
I kicked a hole in the wall, and spiders came crawling out.
IT TICKS!!!
IT TICKS!!!
IT TICKS!!!
IT TICKS!!!
(and I’m emptying my pockets)
prayer beads
a string bikini
a can of SPAM
various beans
moth balls
various nuts
various balls
Hog tied and
ring-
worm-woven
ring-
woman – a bone-tired
woman,
man,
me,
bent myself backwards (BEND!!!) bent back-
wards and bent
all like this
I said fall forward, Bitch
(I’m a
motel mattress)
I SAID I’M MADE OF MOLASSES! …
TICK, TICK,
TICK, TICK
(he said he lives in Kansas)
(various nuts, various balls)
Sent my balls back and dick squirting
over a mop
bucket and sucked it, saying,
go grab me a bucket!
Another bucket?!
… I’m gonna throw up.
Oof …
Remember
me?
Me alone with my left eye watering – (with lots of characters coming out of the woodworks)
He led me to his shed (with LOTS of nuance!)
with a metal roof, (like a tapestry of love)
a concrete hood, (like satin)
a fireplace to burn some wood … sizzling
(I’m starting to remember … )
and there’s
plenty of fishhooks in the dickbooks to
BITE BITE BITE …
(I’m beautiful and shy,
I’m miserable and I want to die)
I mean,
I’m not hungry (Dip!
Yum!)
how I used to be somebody’s eel and you said
how many rings can one woman wear and I said
I don’t know,
let me count …)
1, 2, 3, …
(Poor little me)
2, 3, 4, …
(Just a poor little girl!) …
Remembering your poor little mouth and
the color brown you left on the rim of the margarita glass
(I like to watch you lick the salt.)
and the snuff box
and the closed casket
and the six a.m. alarm
and the sex that never happened
and the seven a.m.’s
spent bag-biting fish-
hooks and baiting
needles
and turning
myself
into a big bug
or better
a bitch. …
(Do NOT bite back!) I said.
I said I won’t fight back this time.
(tell me I’m beautiful
please tell me I’m beautiful
just say that I’m beautiful
please say that I’m …)
with the red tag
still hanging off the bracelet
I never wore, red flags
still waving, wondering what’s left …
How much is left?
How much?
You left me with one eye watering
and I love how you laughed so crazy that night
right like a gut cackler
you real nut cracker you …
You.
Well …
I didn’t take any pictures.
I SAID I DIDN’T TAKE ANY PICTURES.
(dine in or take away?)
Dine in? Takeaway?
Sign in for me.
Just sign right there
on the line.
Here.
(Would you like your receipt?)
(literally making that face I make
when I'm about to burst out crying)
Not of the butter stamp
the belly roll
the jelly lamp
the wooden ruler
the flying saucer
the cup and saucer
the soviet jewelry case
the balloon clock
the crack attic
the wastepaper basket
the flax kit
the drumstick
the drum-shaped basket flower
the mini-mart road sign
the sign language interpreter fail meme gif reel pull
the soap dispenser
the whiskey on the rocks
the shoreline
the train tracks
the painting above the furnace
the finances (the clock ticks)
the finances (the clock TICKS!!!)
(I like to watch you lick
the salt)
the number 2 pencil
the blue stain
the brown stain
the check engine light
the Woodstock green
whatever
…
(Nobody asked me to take any pictures.)
None at the graveyard,
None at the nest,
None going up the stairs,
None coming down,
None on the balcony,
None on the street.
Nothing at the afters.
Just another spiral staircase, scratching my head and forcing out a moan.
(I’m digging my nails into the walls)
(Digging,
wrapping)
Stage lights
Fog machine
Move your body
into the light
Move your body if you can.
You wrapped your arms around me too tight
and for too long.
You squeezed me too tight.
You squeezed me too tight.
I thought I waited all night …
for this.
(THIS?!)
You gotta be kidding me …
I had to say something meaningful.
I mean, I should’ve, right?
Just another night
of moths landing on my dick, my face,
That’s not a moth, that’s a butterfly, DUMBASS.
I’m turning myself inside out and
trying to flap my wings (flap-flap!)
and we can call this art, (grabbing a white tarp), or call this sex;
Either way, it’s a bit sad …
I’m digging.
(I’m spinning)
I mean …
I DON’T TRUST YOU OR YOUR DREAMS!
17:35 to Pristina
17:45 to Wroclaw
19:45 to Boston, Massachusetts
…
Remember the way they looked at you, HUH!?
Remember?
That that’s the way they looked at you –
(That that’s the way they looked) (!!!)
I said don’t MAKE THAT FACE EVER AGAIN
YOU HEAR ME?
DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!
and THAT’S THAT
(pointing down between my legs).
and that’s that (wink-wink) !!!
I couldn’t put my sentences together.
I shouldn’t let it linger.
I just wanted to get fingered. Or fucked. It’s fine, really; fucked is fine. Really, that’s fine. And I guess we might ALL be terrible, terrible, TERRIBLE. And that’s fine. Well … I stared into the darkness till my ears popped, and my jaw dropped, ‘till my eyes turned all sorts of colors. Make your own something from nothing, Bitch, I said to myself. Get your own personality.
GO STARE DOWN YOUR OWN FUCKING WELL.
Well,
I’m unwell.
I stared and stared and ultimately grabbed a beer. (Why don’t you bring your sad cock over here?) Guess that makes sense. This isn’t my first time tweaking out in front of a vending machine in front of a bunch of sexy strangers. I guess we can call the most explosive nights of our lives fake fake fake. FAKE BUT I’M STILL FUCKEID! (HUH?!) (Why did nobody tell me we were just pretending?) Fake fake fake in the long run, right?; The fireworks wear out. The smoke blows away. The boys get sleepy. PULL MY HAIR OUT MY FACE; I WANNA TASTE THE MAICE …
I want to tell you something.
Kinda.
I’m getting closer.
And I’m setting the scene:
ME watching YOU watching ME open and close the same drawer over and over, looking for something new.
Opening up the same drawer must get tiring, huh? I’m opening up a drawer of broken appliances, rusty old tools, and forgotten orgasms. “What do you mean you don’t remember? … We had sex!” Okay. So … We had sex, I guess. I guess … I mean yes … I mean OF COURSE! I’m sure I remember being bent down right over there one night, one night when I needed to remember touch, when I needed to disappear into someone other than myself. I’m sure it was weird, like always. I’m sure it was fun. It’s just a bummer to find you here. Still here. Still pins and screws, saying, I’M A DUDE WITH A BIG DICK! (I’m a woman.) (I’m a man.) I’m just a child. (It doesn’treally matter, right?)
Still pins and needles, seeds, drooping flowers dropping seeds, and the stain on my wall … the holes in my socks … the shadow of a hand. The shadow of a hand holding a … hand? (Remember when I lost my shoe in the darkroom?); (remember when I lost my mind) pins and screws and needles and tacks, I don’t want your affection, I WANT MY BRAIN BACK!
And I don’t know why I thought maybe I raped you. And then I saw you and you were all smiles. Thank god. I think you loved me. Just not like that. You can’t be intimate with a weird lonely lunatic if you yourself are a weird lonely lunatic. Well … I’m still gonna try.
Regarding succumbing to mediocrity and letting the metal move you … Regarding rubbing my hands around your body (down your chest & up your thighs) without ever touching your skin – BECAUSE I WEAR SO MANY RINGS?! So then the hand becomes the lynchpin piece to the “existential beyond.” So I say pile the bodies of naked men up and bathe them in sun. Pile them up and watch them scream, one by one, as they realize their hands aren’t their own. And ripping my body into place (I’m sorry, was I too far gone?) Put your hands back on my waist.
Well …
I bought a blue book when I really wanted black. And there’s no more fresh water in Uganda, or Ghana, or whatever.
I’m unwell, really.
Double bacon cheeseburger and I can’t feel my toes. Last night I was naked in Laboratory with a million other naked men. What can be said about the clap? Should I take a nap? I mean, what really can I say about the clap?! I think I NEED to nap. My asshole is bleeding. I wake up, my nose is bleeding. I look in the mirror and repeat ten times: I LOVE BERLIN. (I love Berlin.) I love Berlin!
And my head is full of mush.
MUSH MAYHEM! —
Mush in the shape of a brain, mush in the shape of a dome, (a dove), MUSH in the shape of a sharp pain; can you remind me your name (?!) … We know each other, right? We fucked the other night? Oh god, LOCK IN! MUSH in the shape of a K-hole, mush in the shape of a tent, mush in the shape of a tunnel and I’m on my knees crawling through. I’m on my way. I’m on my way! Mush that looks like my husband, mush that looks like my boss, mush that looks like my childhood home and I’m rollerblading in circles. (Lock the doors and shut the windows; there’s a storm coming.) HURRICANE ALEXANDER. Hurricane cocaine. Hurricane cum.
Can I tell you a secret?
I never meant to kill myself. I mean … I wanted to … I mean … sometimes … but I never actually meant to do it. I mean, how could anyone do such a thing? I mean … Can I tell you a secret? Maybe I did. I mean – maybe I did mean to. And I know what the crowd says, they say, “They should’ve rang more bells!” (WHERE WERE THE BELLS?!) “They should’ve looked much worse!” I mean, you knew I was an artist, and you still doubted my depth? Artists are MASTERS of disguises and master makers of masks; it’s something I carry from my past. And the crowd says, “But they were always so happy and kind!!” … (!!) … Most men are blind.
MUSH in the shape of a Ferris wheel, mush in the shape of a plane, mush that tastes like toffee, coffee, mush that’s like charcoal, or snowflakes, or the surface of your tongue … Mush that’s like Legos, mush like lava, mush that will make you say “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE, ARE YOU OKAY?!”
I wake up covered in mush and full of shit.
Don’t say, “Fuck all that weird shit.” Say, “I wanna FUCK all that weird shit!” – Mush that fills up a condom and fucks you ‘till you’re silly. Mush in all caps, on all fours, what did you think that mouth was for? I remember your name now, Billy. He told me his name was Billy, Can you fuck me SILLY? I’m laughing, kinda. I’m grunting. Kinda. I’m yawning but I’m not tired, I’m nervous. I shake my body in the dark and fall to the floor, practically. I’m an artist. I’m practicing.
I turn on the lights and look in the mirror:
Mush in the shape of me.