I Love trash and disorder, therefore I function,

 

"MESSY PEOPLE ARE MORE PRODUCTIVE"-God
 

I DON'T EVEN REALLY SEE THE TRASH. THIS IS MOSTLY BECAUSE I AM THINKING.....2,000 MPH: A MULTIBRITOUS COLLAGE OF THOUGHTS INTERTWINING AND MELDING, BREAKING APART AND JOINING OTHERS, AND OTHERS, AND OTHERS. OTHERS....SMOTHERS. YOU SEE, I TEND TO DISAPPEAR. I LOSE MYSELF. I LOSE TRACK OF WHAT I DID ONE SECOND PRIOR TO NOW. I MULTI-TASK. THE PATTERNS IN WHICH I WORK ARE LOOSE AND DISCONNECTED AND PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME UNDERSTANDING MY FRACTURED FLOW. IT IS ERRATIC. YES. IT IS NOT UNLIKE A LABYRINTHINE ROLLER COASTER RIDE. I AM MONOMANIAC OF EVERYTHING EVERY SECOND.  I MAKE NOISE. I CLASH. I SMASH. I FALL. I LAUGH WHEN I GET DIZZY AND THE SUN SETS UPON ME IN  SUCH A RAY THAT TICKLES MY SANITY. MY BRAIN IS A RACE  CHAMPION CAREENING THROUGH GALAXIES OF BLACK AND WHITE INTENSITIES AND I AM JUST TOO DISTRACTED TO NOTICE THE SEVERAL PLATES OF OLD FOOD ON THE FLOOR, ON THE DESK, ON THE BED STAND OR THE FRUIT FLIES ANNOYING  MY FACE AS I THINK ABOUT NEUROLOGICAL DISORDERS AND THE FOUNDER OF THE CAROUSEL AND WHO THOUGHT GOD WAS A GOOD IDEA AND CUTTING MY TOENAILS AND THE DISEASE OF POP CULTURE AND OH IT GOES ON AND ON. WHAT IS THAT SMELL ACCUMULATING IN THE CORNER NEAR MY READING CHAIR? WHAT IS THAT TICKING NOISE? WHAT IS THAT WORD I NEED TO BEGIN MY MANIFESTO ON NEUROTIC POPES? WHAT IS THAT STAIN ON MY CEILING THAT KEEPS GROWING? WHO IS CALLING ME? IS ANYONE CALLING ME OR AM I HEARING THINGS? STANELY? IS THAT YOU? WAIT STANELY IS DEAD. CHARLEY?  WHERE ARE MY KEYS? WHERE IS THAT SHIRT? FEED THE RABBIT, FEED THE RABBIT. I FORGOT MY APPOINTMENT SHIT! MY THERAPIST IS GOING TO FIRE ME. MY BRAIN IS GOING TO FIRE ME. SEX? WHAT WORD RHYMES WITH ESOTERIC? AH! HYSTERIC! HOLY FRANCIS. IMAGINE IF ALL THE STUPID PEOPLE WERE EXCOMMUNICATED TO THEIR OWN PLANET: THE PLANET OF THE DOLTS. IMAGINE IF I REMEMBERED TO TAKE A SHOWER. GENIUS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IQ OR IVY LEAGUE GOOD GRADE GETTERS. POST ITS. COFFEE. PILOT G-2 07. WRITING IMPLEMENT OF CHOICE. HELL AND DAMNATION. HAVEN'T BRUSHED MY TEETH FOR OVER A MONTH. SOMETHING IS RUSTLING IN THE MOUNDS OF USED KLEENEX ON MY FLOOR. BUTTER FROM A WEEK AGO- A LANDFILL ON MY DESK. MY DESK. A MAZE OF REMINDERS ON POST ITS, EMPTY TO HALF FULL WATER BOTTLES, MUFFIN WRAPPERS, PENS-PILOT G-2 07. EMPTY STARBUCKS DOUBLE ESPRESSO CANS. OLD MAKEUP. NEW MAKEUP. PILL BOTTLES EMPTY AND HALF FULL STREWN ABOUT THE ROOM.I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE THE LEAD ROLE IN "VALLEY OF THE DOLLS" BUT I REFUSED TO COMPROMISE MY HAIR-COLOR WHICH AT THE TIME WAS A RADIANT SHADE OF TURQUOISE.   IDEAS MAKING THE AIR THICK. CLAUSTROPHOBIC. BOXES OF MY BELONGINGS, THE SUBCONSCIOUS.DISRUPTIVE AND UPROARIOUS CLOMPING OF FOOTSTEPS SMASHING FROM THE FLOOR ABOVE ME ADD TO Psychological noise  AS IF I DO NOT HEAR ENOUGH. NOT A MOMENT OF PEACE. WHAT IS PEACE? I COULD HAVE SWORN I SAW MYSELF STEALING 5,000 DOLLARS WORTH OF DIOR PRODUCT AT SAX THE OTHER DAY. STRANGE. OR IS IT THAT I LOOK IN THE MIRROR TOO MUCH? "

All is vanity and vexation of spirit.

Bible, Ecclesiastes i. 14.

NO, REALLY. I JUST HAVE BODY DYSMORPHIC DISORDER; NO CREDIT TO YOU Ecclesiastes. WHY DO PEOPLE BRING THEIR CELLPHONES TO THE WOODS AND TALK INCESSANTLY ABOUT  TRIFLES WHEN I GO HIKING? THIS NEVER HAPPENED IN COLORADO...CANNOT WAIT TO GO BACK. NO, REALLY I WANT TO TELL JUDY ABOUT MY NEW DISHWASHER WHILE I AM REVELING IN THE NATURE AND MAKE SURE EVERYONE ELSE HEARS ME BECAUSE I HAVE A LICENSE FOR NOISE POLLUTION. MEANWHILE THE MOLD CONTINUES TO MAKE ITS PRESENCE KNOWN TO ME. IT SEEMS TO GROW WHEREVER I SPEND THE MOST TIME...IN MY ROOM....AT MY DESK. MOLD SURE IS PECULIAR IF YOU ASK ME. FOR SHAME, I JUST TRIPPED OVER A PILE OF DEBRIS AS I ATTEMPTED TO FIND MY DOOR AND RELIEVE MYSELF. NOTHING BAD. ONLY THE CRACKING OF CONCRETE ON HEAD. I've BEEN THROUGH WORSE. SHIT, MY VITAMINS MUST BE SOMEWHERE. i JUST PLACED THEM BEFORE MY COLLECTION OF EMPTY CIGARETTE PACKS BUT A MOMENT AGO. THIS FUCKING ROOM! IT EATS EVERYTHING! NEVER HAVE I KNOWN A ROOM TO BE SO RAVENOUS. DISRESPECTFUL. BLACKGUARD! WOW A BARBIE HEAD I PULLED OFF WHEN I WAS SEVEN YEARS OLD. HAVEN'T SEEN THAT IN A LONG TIME. AMONGST THE DEBRIS THAT MADE ME CLUMSY. HOW DID IT GET THERE? OH CHRIST I AM PISSING MY PANTS. OH WELL. NEVER MIND. I WILL JUST GO BACK TO MY CHAIR. I HAVE TO THINK AND ALL THESE DISTRACTIONS ARE PREVENTING ME FROM FORMING A COHERENT THOUGHT. ANYHOW, IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, I AM BEING COMPLETELY SUPERFICIAL RIGHT NOW. YOU DON'T REALLY KNOW WHAT I AM THINKING. IT IS RATHER IMPORTANT THOUGH, WHAT I THINK. IT IS ALSO IMPERATIVE THAT I KEEP MY THOUGHTS A PRISONER OF MY MIND BECAUSE I AM TERRIBLY AFRAID THAT SOMEONE WOULD CALL THE F.B.I. AND THE LUNATIC ASYLUM TO BOOT. I, FOR ONE, DO NOT BELONG IN AN INSANE ASYLUM. IN FACT, I AM ONE OF THE MOST DOWN TO EARTH AND SANE PERSONS THAT I KNOW. IT IS HARD TO BE SANE, LET ME TELL YOU. I AM JUST A LITTLE LOST AMONGST THE GARBAGE IN MY ROOM. BUSY THINKERS REALLY SHOULD CONSIDER THE SERVICE OF A MAID; BUT, I DO NOT BELIEVE IN SLAVERY OR MAKING OTHERS RESPONSIBLE FOR MY RUBBISH. IT REALLY ISN'T A PROBLEM FOR ME. THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO OTHER THAN CLEANING A ROOM. HOW BORING. THE PEOPLE I LIVE WITH UPSTAIRS COME INTO MY ROOM WHEN I AM GONE AND INVADE MY PRIVACY. THEN THEY HAVE THE AUDACITY TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE CONDITION IT IS IN: MOUNDS OF RUBBISH. "WELL" I SAY "IF IT CAUSE YOU THAT MUCH PAIN, DO NOT ENTER MY ROOM AT ANY COST ANYMORE!" AND "BESIDES ONE DAY YOU WILL BE GLAD I WAS THINKING INSTEAD OF CLEANING BECAUSE THE WHOLE WORLD IS GOING TO BENEFIT FROM MY MIND, YOU'LL SEE!" POOR COMMONERS, THEY JUST DO NOT UNDERSTAND. THEY EVEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO THREATEN ME DEPORTATION TO THE BLACK SEA LEST I STOP THINKING AND RID MY ROOM OF THE DEBRIS!   I AM NOT A DAUGHTER. I AM A TENANT. I PAY WITH MY SANITY. I ENDURE LIKE A TIRED MACHINE. THEY THINK I HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE TO LIVE. THIS IS A DELUSION OF COURSE, BUT TRY TELLING THEM SO. AND HOW HARD THEY WORK AT TRYING TO MAKE ME THE OUT TO BE RIDICULOUS AND BLIND. I MAKE MORE SENSE THAN SENSE ITSELF.  I HAVE 20/20 VISION. I HAVE NO ILLUSIONS. I KNOW THE TRUTH. SULLIED EATING UTENSILS ARE PROPS FOR THEIR COMPLAINTS. THEY COME IN WHEN I AM NOT HERE: PRIVACY INVADED. THAT IS A TRUE CRIME. I SHOULD CALL THE AUTHORITIES ON THEM! THINKING IS FAR MORE IMPORTANT THOUGH. THE HAY STREWN ABOUT THE FLOOR PROVIDES A BARNYARD-LIKE QUALITY THAT I RATHER ENJOY. MAYBE I SHOULD SPEND THE NIGHT IN THE CAGE WITH MY LITTLE DAUGHTER, AN ANGORA RABBIT. SHE IS FREE TO GO OUTSIDE IN SUMMER. THE COLD WETS MY BONES. I AM AFRAID WE'RE STUCK IN THIS HOUSE DEAR. CARROT? I TRIPPED OVER SOMETHING AGAIN. THRICE IN ONE DAY! AWKWARDLY PLACED SHOES AND AN INFINITY OF ODDS AND ENDS. MORE ODDS THAN ENDS. ONCE TIME I NOTICED MY EXEGESIS  AMONG BITS OF THE USELESS AND OBSOLETE. SO THAT IS WHERE IT HAS BEEN ALL THESE YEARS! AMAZING WHAT ONE FINDS WHEN NOT SEEKING...OR HAVING A HEART ATTACK OVER. SO, HEAD ON THE CONCRETE. NO HOSPITAL PLEASE; I AM TOO BUSY THINKING. I MUST THINK. IDEAS SPOUT OUT LIKE A BROKEN DAM AND I BECOME FLUSTERED AND DISJOINTED AND CLUMSY WITH MY USE OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND MY POSTURE TWISTED INTO A WRETCHED CONDITION. IT IS ALL SUCH A COMEDY. THE PETTY, THE MEANINGFUL AND WHAT DETERMINES EACH. IMPORTANT. NOT IMPORTANT. IT VARIES DAY TO DAY. THE SWITCHES IN PERCEPTION SHIFT LIKE SOME IMMORTAL ANIMAL. DON'T TRUST IT. BUT IS IT ME? I TRY TO STAY IN MY BODY, BUT IT IS MY NATURE TO FLOAT BEYOND THE BOUNDS OF THE FLESH; I HOVER OVER MYSELF LIKE A STRANGER UNEASY AND DETACHED. WHEN MY FEET TOUCH THE EARTH AND THE DIRT STAINS MY FEET-I KNOW I AM OF THE EARTH...BUT THEY ALWAYS SEEM TO BETRAY ME, LEAVE ME STRANDED AMONG THE UNKNOWN. A SELF THAT IS NOT A SELF. I LIKE THE DIRT. THE BLACK CUMULATIVE SCUM BENEATH MY NAILS LEAVES ME APATHETIC, BUT SOMETIMES I AM EQUIPPED WITH SEVERAL NAIL CLIPPERS, BECAUSE OWNING ONLY ONE PAIR IS NO COMFORT, HAVING ONE OF ANYTHING IS UNCOMFORTABLE. THINGS DISAPPEAR. THINGS I NEED. I SCRAPE THE SOIL OUT FROM UNDER MY NAILS SOMETIMES RITUALISTICALLY. EVERY SPECK MUST BE RID. ON SOME DAYS MY SANITY IS CODEPENDENT. CERTAIN TASKS MUST TAKE PLACE. TRASH BAGS FULL OF WARDROBE ALMOST A COMPLETE OBSTACLE TO MY BED. OUT OF CHAOS IT IS EASIER TO SEE COMMON SENSE AND SO I CLIMB ONTO IT THROUGH A CRACK AND BYPASS THE MOUNDS. SLEEP THOUGH. NOT MUCH. MY MIND IS A KNIFE IN THE NIGHT, SHARP AND PRECISE IS ITS CUT. ASTUTE. THE FRESCOES I SEE CLEARLY; THEY CAN BE DESCRIBED AS VIVID WILDFLOWERS SPREADING, MIXED AND PERSISTENT BREEDS OF COLOR, BORN OUT OF SOME SEEDS TOSSED ABOUT,  RANDOMLY PLACED BY NATURE.HELIANTHUS ANNUSS. HELIOS ANTHOS. SUN AND FLOWER. SUNFLOWER.  IN A TEN WEEK OLD VASE. THEY BEND IN THE DARK. I  NOTICED THEM TODAY WHEN MY THOUGHTS FLIPPED THE SWITCH TO  THE PRESENT, THROUGH MY EYES:  BINOCULARS HEAVY WITH THE BURDEN OF  EVERYTHING, SCRUTINY, THINGS BEST BURIED UNDER PILES- THE SLOW SUICIDE OF JUNK FOOD WRAPPERS, AND BAGS, AND FLUIDS LEAKING FROM STALE MUGS. THE CHAIR I SIT IN, WARM WITH MY SEDENTARY SKIN PRESSING INTO IT, ENGRAVED. BOOKS, PAPERS, BOTTLES, CUPS, OLD YOGURT. MY DESK. THERE ARE MANY THINGS ON MY DESK. I FORGET WHAT COLOR IT IS. I HAVE TO GO NOW. I'M THINKING. G'DAY.

"MESSY PEOPLE ARE MORE PRODUCTIVE"-God

No number four.

No number four. I cannot section myself. I just have to keep going.  Are you looking at me? Not that pencil on your desk. How fascinating is a pencil? What were you thinking about when you were staring at that pencil? You are so dishonest. Harriett talks to me like I am Jesus. She prays and confesses and tells. She spins wheels of good and evil. She contains no evil, but she weaves it for herself like a cocoon. I have the characteristics of Jesus, but I do not use them for life. He was a revolutionary. I am a repressed revolutionary. Are repressed revolutionaries inspiring Harriett? Harriett said no. Then why do you treat me like Jesus? Because you remind me of him a lot. How could that be. A fragmented sentence just projected out of me. I suppose I should say that she told Jesus many tales. Her mother was silent like my mother. She hated her for her silence. Figuratively she was silent. Folks can be loud and silent at the same time. Every word her mother spoke was a vessel. This vessel would percolate within Harriett. It would become louder inside Harriett. I used to see blood in her ears and wonder where it came from. Harriett said the blood just kept coming: she would keep talking as if it were not spilling.  Her mother had a handicapped imagination. This disorder ostracized Harriett from the womb. Her mother would go on vacations for a long time. Harriett found her master when her mother went on these sojourns; he has been with her ever since the first one. The first was the longest; the rest were endured at shorter intervals.

  When Harriett was finished speaking at Jesus she would reach into her bag for a new face. Dolls can do that. Abrupt ability. Just like this story. Abrupt. It contains abruptability. How the colors would turn. I saw them brighten just a bit too much. This was when she told me how bad I was (and still am). When her comprehension fails the colors go everywhere like the snow. There is no interception and no clarity. She told me that people are vacuums with squamous organs inside. I had no organs. I was just a vacuum cleaner. I sucked up dirt, but I could not digest it. I spewed it all over the rugs and the furniture.

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