Category Archives for red pills found behind the sofa cushions
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, green pills edition (prolepsis 2)
TweetJust woke from another of my vivid blue agave dreams (hundreds of naked Indians labor to build an enormous casino inside the hollowed-out carcass of a giant, magical buffalo, the buffet to which features nothing but kippers, wild salmon, and … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, green pills edition (prolepsis)
TweetShortcomings in physical construction prevent most hoodies from driving manual automobiles. But my hoodie—never one to shy away from a challenge (just ask the bouncer at Pub on Pearl, whose testicles are likely still lodged in his abdomen)—figured out a … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, existential logistics edition
TweetPicked up a bottle of Herradura Seleccion Suprema and 2 limes, which I’ve cut into sixteen wedges and placed in an earthen bowl next to some kosher salt and a frosted apéritif glass. I figure if I use my time … Continue reading
a protest poem by Ernest Ray Everson, dictated to him in a dream by an angry beet, March 1972 (red pills behind the sofa cushions, flashback )
Tweet“Oscar Night” Self-love is self love, beet says —whether gilded into sleek shiny sexless statuettes, or performed alone in one of the theater stalls after the winners have all been called & the gift baskets long since rifled through. But … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, green pills edition
TweetMy hoodie and me. My hoodie and me. My hoodie and me. And the smell of Mountain Dew. A stale citrus stink, too—like when some lemonhead john cruises the junkie lime hooker who hangs out behind the diner on Alameda … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, analepsis 14
TweetThere are few things on earth so tragic—and so apt to seethe up through the pragmatist’s gullet in an acid belch of incipient nihilism—than the sight of a muddy, tractor-savaged field of trampled beets, battle-bested, their classified numbers still thick … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, prolepsis 11
TweetUsing state of the art nanotechnology, it takes a team of six agency surgeons —none of whom officially even exist, I’ve since learned—roughly fourteen hours to resuscitate and repair a certain sea monkey “asset,” whose drunken new year’s eve skinny … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, analepsis 11
TweetSure, he let it slip after pulling 16 moist hits off a 250 gram block of primo Moroccan hash and eating an entire white pizza—but still, when the dolphin in the pea coat tells you that “Val” Plame hasn’t been … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, prolepsis 10
TweetIn the patrician worldview of sea monkey royalty, each piece of leftover pizza or cold, tinfoil-wrapped Asada chicken is a refrigerated tribute owed the Sea Monkey King, his presumptousness a fair trade, I figure, for the colorful, malt liquor-fueled tales … Continue reading
red pills found behind the sofa cushions, analepsis 10
TweetSure, the CIA has encouraged the mullahs to believe otherwise; but I have it on peacoat-clad authority that Iran is really not particularly close to acquiring nuclear weapons—though they are quite close to acquiring a series of heavy cylindrical encasements, … Continue reading
