the way to walk and the way to drink and the way to tell the world you're dying 6 times (and also the truth) [2013]

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The bottle is empty, and the little lady is sick in my slippers.  
And I am sick.  
And I am sick.

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(…)

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I is a passage through the unclassifiable; an entrance into a triangle of 
sufficient nonsense.  

This is an irrefutable truth.  

Yet, I feel compelled to ask:  what is this if it is not a tireless solution, 
if it is not wisdom, if it bears no relation to television 
or the books you've perused?  

Is it distance?  

An ever-manifesting provender spilling into the three corners of nourishment?  

A loop?  

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1.

One might attribute to it -- this breathing, conscious knowing -- the damage 
quite obviously done by the shunt, but swollen buttons along 
the perimeter of the liver harbor not only one's freakish, greedy computations, 
but also malignancies that anticipate the intestine and the bowel.  

And the damage is nonsense, regardless, so...  

This is the place in which one might look to find absences and diminishments.  

(highschool / your first job / the time you tried to learn to drive a stick-shift 
and ended up weeping behind the wheel / the girl at the bus stop who smiled at 
you as you frantically attempted to wipe the bird shit from your shoulder / tickets 
to the Shrine Circus / The Washups / Plantar Fasciitis / the Merce Cunningham 
Dance Company / your father)

One might look around, count to three, close one's eyes and pray for 
another place.

2.

https://soundcloud.com/gmatthewmapes/the-architecture-of-forgetting?in=gmatthewmapes/sets/visceralum-miscellany

3.

"We all must decide, dozens of times every day, which facade of 'understanding' 
we will present to our families, our friends, our co-workers and simple passersby.  
And we must, in turn, realize that each of these family members, friends, 
co-workers and passersby, is presenting to us a facade of their own deliberate 
construction, which makes any tangible idea of 'truth', any claim at identity, 
extremely difficult, if not entirely impossible."

4.

"As a prominent feature in every conscious being's identity, death offers us nearly 
unlimited potentials for mask-making.  And perhaps this IS something of which 
we need be wary, something we should deny if at all possible; but maybe we 
might also -- under the right circumstances, of course -- consider utilizing it as 
an accessory, like one might a clown nose, or a pair of shiny shark-skin boots."

5.

It might be a wrinkle, a shrill remembrance of a time when hunger was 
an equipment malfunction or a simple flirtation with the mechanism.

And the mechanism is inclined to failure, regardless, so...

This is the place in which one might look to find blasphemies and malingerers.

(your diary on audio cassette / Pudu and Capy / the time you recorded an album 
entitled UNDER A 40-WATT BULB / a liquid net / a bronze medal you won 
on Field Day / the weather in Pittsburgh at this very moment / the one and only 
time your mail was delivered by a pickle who knew you / the squirrel with 
the silver belly / James W. Simmons / karma)

One might look around, clear one's throat, blink three times 
and devour the carcass.

6.

is dying is a lighthouse is eastern philosophy is a good movie is the time 
is a little bit of rest is burning is an obsession with one's internal universe 
is indispensable is a healthy commission is the perimeter is jazz 
is a donkey on a hilltop is an antenna is zinc is a blanching witness 
is the dust beneath one's typewriter is tension is a piece of cheese 
is syllable after syllable is a blunder is taxes is a significant experience 
is the first instrument is sand is the Ann Arbor skyline is laughter 
is otherwise preoccupied is a slimy residue is vamping with certitude 
is no certain conclusion is hindered by jagged rocks is a double-wide 
is cinnamon-flavored is booted out of summer-school is humming is riotous 
is observing a murder is the sound of a doumbek is the plumbing is a pendulum 
is the Prime Minister of Canada is a penny is the girl next door is perfect
is a quarrel with a group of folks outside the party store is a relentless shelling 
is the kingdom is tubular is underlined in red is stretched to its capacity 
is a bald tire is dinner at a fancy restaurant is a deck of cards is a filthy washrag
is a shuttle traveling back to the parking lot is a free afternoon is temporal 
is an abstraction is the empty bottle is a loft in the artsy part of town 
is a circular motion is a gust of wind is a black bandana is a closed circuit 
is a set of dentures rattling around in an old man's mouth is a fruit stand 
is a perfect rhyme is a severed tentacle is mumbling is a sodden couch 
is the tongue of a cow is a cup of custard is visceral is a deflated balloon 
is the mother of invention is a tube of toothpaste is a car wreck is a love letter 
is a worthless piece of shit is a folding chair is a basset hound is an assumption
is

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(One plus one equals two, and so on.  Or simply:  math.)

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The bottle is bursting, and the little lady is sustained in my sneakers.
And I am sustained.
And I am sustained.

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