Justin Stone's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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Location: missouri, el paso

The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Saturday, September 30, 2006

The Old Good Old Good Days Were Claustrophobic

She sits there knowing every goddamn thing
In the goddamn world,
And she is letting the room have it.
“Have you read The 12 Lamentations of Jason?” she demands.
“No.”
“Well, it’s all about you.”
“It is?”
“Yes. It is. And ‘Jason’ and ‘Justin’ each have six letters in their name, which I find interesting. Very interesting indeed.”
“What’s the book about?”
“I don’t know.” She’s affecting great boredom now. Picking things up, dropping them. “I really haven’t read the book in years. Actually to tell you the truth I don’t care about the book.”
“Okay.”
“I’m letting everything the fuck go, I really am.”
“Good.”
“Yes, it is good. It is very good indeed.”
". . ."
"In the dream I had last night everything I believe was validated and that's all the proof that I need."
". . ."
"Let's say I give you a Chicken Suit to wear and then you run around and I shoot you, because that's what I do, I shoot Chickens. Didn't you know that, Justin? I can't stand Chicken Suits and I've been giving them out for years. And I also hate People Who Won't Put On Chicken Suits. Because everybody should put them on."
". . ."
"I remember you told me once that you love Chicken. Which I find very interesting. Very interesting indeed. Yes. I do." Smiling. "This is funny."
". . ."
"Yes I just realized how funny this all is. Jason--in the book; have you read The 12 Lamentations of Jason?--doesn't like cows. And cows are also a Farm Animal. Very interesting."
". . ."
"I remember you once saying that you had seen a Farm."
". . ."
Somehow there is almost no oxygen left in the room—
I am not sure how this phsyically works,
But there is nothing left to breathe.
She says, “Jesus Fucking Christ, Justin, I can hardly breathe. I remember when there used to be tons of oxygen in this room. Tons.”