way west

~from zelenka to brix, 18 march ’01

wait a minute.

brix,

brix,

wait a minute. am i supposed to believe that you have that james joyce poem memorized? tut tut.

what’s happening?

i am upset because i had a really good name for your folder all made up the other morning as i was driving to work. i didn’t write it down because i figured it was too good to forget. now i can’t remember. for the time being, i am keeping your emails in a folder called “way west.”

okay.

not much going on. the other day i wrestled with a boy and felt like i am all breast. it made it not much fun to wrestle. at one point i had told j. that girls with big boobs are not as much fun (well, maybe sexually they are a lot more fun, but outside of that, i mean). and i kind of believe it to be true now. i am thinking of writing a diatribe on it, except first i have to figure out what a diatribe is.

i wish i had more to say. it is saturday morning and i am sitting here alone with a mocha and i mean, come on…

z.

~from brix to zelenka, 19 march 01

diatribe – n. a bitter, abusive criticism or denunciation.

Example: S.B. is a diatribe master. -or- S.B. has a diatribe about absolutely everything. -or- Everything that comes out of S.B.’s mouth is a diatribe. -or- These examples of the word “diatribe” are part of a sarcastic diatribe about a person’s over-negativity and intolerance.

No, I don’t save any of my e-mails. They are recreated incessantly in many forms thus saving one is like saving snakeskin.

Are you asking “what’s happening?” as in what current chain of events is shaping my earthly existential construct or are you asking “what’s happening?” in a delirious, amnesia-esque, echo location pulse? Example: In the dirt of the alley, he tries collect his thoughts as he feels his sense of self slipping away with his sense of direction, his sense of location. He mutters “what’s happening?” and waits for his echo to return with information regarding exactly…where…he…is.

The latter is how I’m feeling.

Of course, I completely forgot to mail that fricking story. S’cuse me while I beat myself up.

Wrestling with boys? Excellent! Sure beats wrestling catcii or reptiles. Big boobs gives you a lower center of gravity. Keep low, keep your weight in front of you. You need to hunch over, let your breasts swing in a circle so you can move them in any direction quickly if need be. Move in slow. If he retreats, call him a “chicken” or a “pussy.” Never attack quickly, keep on the defense unless you can get a pinch or a slap in. Imitating Quasimodo, yell “Sanctuary!” and let your arms drag. When he’s laughing, distracted, step into him, placing your right leg in between his. Grab his nuts. Now you are in total control. You can hurt. You can please. But don’t let go until you get money. No matter what kind of yanking you do after you have him, always remember: Its useful to have a towel.

No I don’t have that Joyce poem memorized. I can’t remember exactly…where…I…is…let alone memorize a poem.

I’m not sure if I’m mind or emotion today.

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