“Tuesday morning: the garbage is on the curb, and I’ve cast my futile vote. Tonight, I’ll go to therapy and talk about rabbits, my mom, and that time I drove my car off the Zilwaukee Bridge. Life goes on, Suckers.”
— G. Matthew Mapes
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.
.
you got my phone number, right?
Yeah.
It’s the one with the digits and dashes, right?
pay attention to the pole
I’ve been paying attention to the pole since 1977.
you want that toasted?
No.
Just plain and mildly inebriated.
what would you like, Sir?
A police siren and a manhole cover, for starters.
I don’t even know what she was thinking
That’s just the beginning of the problem.
he was an all-star
Sure. But WHY was he an all-star?
yeah, yeah. I brought along my tuba
And I my trombone. Let’s practice our dissonances.
I’m going to have a party this weekend
I will fail
— alone —
and bake a pan of chocolate chip cookies.
oh no, in the box is fine
Don’t you know? The Box is the enemy.
[…]
You WERE talking about The Box, right?
I was walking past the garden and that dog came running out
Again? Shit.
Hope you were able to avoid the mind of a sensei.
can I have medicine and sour mash
Can I have music and a cup of Oolong?
did you get that on Blu-ray, yet?
Oh, no. We were over at the church, voting.
Is it ON Blu-ray?
lettuce and tomato?
These days, that’s a sandwich, and enough to make you want to observe a pickled silence.
we went for a rock climb down at the gym
I went for a drive off the Zilwaukee Bridge.
Gettin’ in shape!
sorry about the way I handled that
Handled what? The thing?
Don’t worry about it. I’m already WAY beyond that.
he gave him a gold bar
Gold is the color of consciousness, and an excuse for doing something wrong.
oh my god, I haven’t seen that thing in months
Seeing is believing or remembering.
Or remembering.
what were you thinking last night?
I was talking, which isn’t quite the same thing.
Would you like to know my opinion on today’s Primary Election?
I can’t stake my life on it
Who can? Would you like a beverage?
you look good in brown leather
So does the cow. Would you like a beverage?
something went wrong, something with my laptop
And I forgot, just like that. Your laptop, you say?
Have you tried adjusting your pants?
I mean, wrong is wrong.
five inches
But it’s thick.
.
.
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“We’re all voting and shitting ourselves, then going to see Clayton Eshleman read, and later crying alone in the driver’s seats of our 1992 Chrysler New Yorkers. All is well in the parking garage; don’t mind that man over there, or the piercing whine of the exhaust fan, or the fact that THIS is literally all we have, minus the applause at the end.”
— G. Matthew Mapes
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.
.
I just met this audio guy
I heard you two were getting married. Why?
I had a friend who used to let me photograph her
And now I’m alone, with a camera and a friend.
I got pulled over in the parking lot
I got pulled over in the canned vegetables aisle.
You ever try to talk your way out of a ticket while holding a can of creamed corn?
somebody just pulled out over here
Oh. So now we’re talking about birth control?
What a mess.
I was hoping to get a sample
Waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting…
thank you Sir, and have a blessed day
Well, I hadn’t thought about daytime from that perspective.
Might I quote you in a scholarly essay?
then I cut back before my mom could notice
Cutting, all the time. She’s making my bed and doing my laundry.
And all I wanted was a Pepsi. Just one Pepsi.
that was a bad one all the way
Define “bad”. Like, Hitler bad?
Or just LEONARD, PART 6 bad?
hey. I’m waiting until, like, 11:00
That’s funny. So am I.
Can I borrow your phone to take a selfie of the clock?
I’m counting down to game time
And a mature, 12-point buck walked through the downtown area,
in a leisurely fashion, without any apparent concern for “game time”.
I can’t seem to get this thing into my bag
Neither can I. Might I kill it for you?
let’s turn the losers into thinkers
Vote for Donald Drumpf, you losers.
you said American?
Just like Justearth Painer T., or Ike & Tina Turner.
Or raise the flag and beat your neighbor. It’s all the same thing.
I got this scarf at that place up on Main
Down the street from that place where Clayton Eshleman read?
you going to the thing tonight?
I heard Ingebrigt Håker Flaten isn’t playing with them anymore.
[…]
You WERE talking about The Thing, right?
I was frustrated, but I wasn’t going to punch the guy
I punch the guy all the time. It’s how I manage my calendar,
or, I should say, my memories of past calendars.
really, I know that she was agreeing with me
As much as it might pain you, you simply can’t BE right in a society of wrong.
and you could walk across the lawn to get there
Or, you could DRIVE across the lawn, slam through the hedge,
drive across the next lawn, and so on, until you get “there”.
of course I get cold, from time to time
The sweater was made from strands of her own hair,
and the buttons were fashioned from the teeth of her dead dog, Trotsky.
Sir: would you mind switching booths with us, ‘cause you’ve got a plug, and we don’t?
Power is an intoxicating thing, isn’t it?
no problem. I’m on my way out of here, anyway
The problem with “here” is that there is no really good way to get out of it.
thanks
No. Thank YOU.
Wait…
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“The future is yesterday. Plan accordingly.”
— G. Matthew Mapes
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