william
where are all the zombies?
The moment I saw him in his shiny red jacket with his zombie back up dancers, I knew that man was trouble. Michael Jackson was his name. He shared it with an older white man with a skeletal face. I had yet to discover the connection between these two.
The man had come upon the zombies in a cemetery after taking in a particularly horrific werewolf movie with his then girlfriend. Man and zombies joined together in a long difficult dance number during the instrumental. After this gruesome display, the two young lovers escaped to an abandoned house to seek meager solace in each others’ arms. But the cruel zombies pursued them still, smashing through the boarded windows with shattering accuracy.
They escaped without a scrape, physically anyway, but I have suspicions about this man and his claim that he’s truly human.
Day to day I seem to have a grasp on what’s fiction and fact, but some things just bother you and the lines get greyer and greyer and greyer and greyer. And these zombies, it seems, would continue to haunt me, be the great thorn in my side for many years to come. I knew a few things about these zombies: I knew they were persistent, I knew they were flesh hungry, and I knew they liked to come through windows.
I was twelve years old when I first became aware of these facts and this man. Twelve years old and trying desperately to wrap my head around Michael Jackson and his gruesome back up dancers.
My parents, that night wondered why I had yet to turn out the light. I told them all I had seen that day, imparting the mystery of the two Michael Jacksons and the horror of his dance ensemble. It turns out, as they then informed me, these men were one and the same. He had contracted the skin condition vitiligo, leading to unnatural white patches on the skin. I was also assured that zombies were not real. I believed this for the most part, but how could they not be real when I still felt their eyes crawling over my skin as they waited to slam their dead limbs against my window?
I discussed this at length with my good friend, Phil Collins. Phil was one of the good guys, always keen to make amends and remind us all of man’s great commonality. A real good guy. And night after night I would loose precious sleep pondering this question unable to dislodge it from the cogs of my mind.
This man, Michael Jackson continued to follow me. He consorted with Carol Burnett as a young boy. I find it harder and harder to believe that he really a bad egg after all. But it was hard to trust the man after seeing him with the horrors that lurked outside my window.
There were many more mysteries that would surround this man, Michael Jackson – Was he white? Was he black? Did he sexually abuse the child of a family friend? Where was his nose? But the greatest mystery of all, still haunts me. When I stand near open windows, when I hear his name, when I hear the deep tone of a narrator’s voice. Michael Jackson is gone. I know that, and I have know it for a long time. But the question remains that I ponder to this day…where are all the zombies now?
tarintino
blue walls who paints a
room that blue
she ODed in his apartment
mouth fuckin’ foamin’
red shirts, just washed em’ too
What are we going to do with the guy in the
backseat
in the trunk
He can’t live there forever
[mostly because he’s dead]
Scorsese, Tarintino a drop of
blood
suspended
or a fountain splattered against
the back windshield
the distance from the chair to the screen is
safe
as the distance between me
and the motherfucker
who ball-gagged me
[what a fuckin’ creep]
we’ll storm his shop, mow him down, won’t know what hit ‘im
get medieval on his ass
Like Kingsman \ foot in the chin sliced through the balls
suspended
The distance between me and the real world is
safe \ You’ll never guess who
was playing us
all along the boardwalk he doesn’t expect to die
[come on, it’s so fuckin’ obvious]
but they don’t find his body until next spring
suspended
in water as it is
but they blew up the chicken man and the racket boys
won’t know what hit ’em
the distance between me and
Atlantic City is not safe
I’ve got a
little favor to do,
for a man who
won’t meet with me
[don’t you think that’s strange]
come on
everything that dies
doesn’t really
[I don’t really want to know
where they go
after the boardwalk]
(wouldn’t think about it)
wouldn’t think outside the screen where
my emotions are
suspended
and the distance is safe
american graffiti
It only took me one night to realize if brains were dynamite you couldn’t blow your nose
My table, no
mine
Chemistry’s too interesting
When I could be in bed?!
Oh, no, not me. Not old Carol. The night is young and I’m not hittin’ the rack till I get a little action.
Colin is gay
Gordon loves sheep
What about Jonathan?
Honestly, uh, I’m, uh leaning towards anyone
She spoke to me, she spoke to me right through the window. I think she said I love you…That means nothing to you people?…You have no romance, no soul?…Someone wants me. Someone roaming the streets wants me.
How does it feel to be standing over there?
Up against the young bucks
Cla Crunk
Your car is uglier than I am!
Rock and roll’s been going down hill
ever since Buddy Holly died
NSA is watching
Stand by for justice!
We’re Americans, and we’re gonna do democracy
Bootleg
Bootstrap
Dogma
Oh baby!
Yeah, I’ll die soon, then it’ll all be over
Forget about Rachel, Danny
Never shag an Essex bloke
You would, you grungy little twirp.
Do you want to end up like John? You just can’t stay 17 forever!
Hey, Kroot! Why don’t you go kiss a duck?
Don’t look Da Da Da Down
I’m batman
I have become death destroyer of worlds
A double Chubby-Chuck, a chili-barb, two orders of French fries
and literally millions of jellyfish
foamy
A Map Of Reykjavik
A map of Reykjavik still in her pocket
She tightened her jacket and remembered she bought it
She pulled the strings of that money machine
With the walls caving in she let herself dream
bearings
sestina or something
You know what Tanya told me yesterday under the bleachers since she's my girl or something? Katie's with Carl, Alison's fucking Greg but Greg's still going with Katie and Alison plays for the other team John finished juvie and Claire finished Jim off but Jim's in the locker room with John in his mouth
Everyone knows because Gretchen's got a big mouth Bill got his appendix out the other day Honestly, we could tell something was off But today he's back saying "You got something on your face" like he always does. He's still on the team. He's always been our best and everything but things can change pretty fast, you think you've got a handle but Tracey's lips got sucked up into her mouth She's probably got bulimia but so does the whole cross-country team She couldn't get a word out in English today I wanted to say grow some lips and talk like a real skeleton person or something mean like that but that was before the bell went off I mean, Celia's dad's got cancer, Trent says he's gonna off himself, Chaucer couldn't write something half as good but Jane Austen could, not that I read that girly stuff or anything Jay stuck his tongue down Hannah's throat during mouth to mouth in health, John got suspended, haven't seen him in days Bill and Jim and Greg got with the cheerleaders just cause they're on the team only three people didn't make the team they let 'em on anyway, bench warmers. Just kill them off it's what Darwin would do, that's what my dad said the other day Some people aren't strong enough to stick around, isn't that right Bud? doesn't matter if it isn't because he always gets mad when I mouth off to him. Look at Bud, he thinks he knows everything. John smokes cigarettes, it's like a cool kid thing Can't have them or I'd get kicked off the team they say they can smell it on your mouth or something. You hear Trent finally kicked off? I wanna say I don't get it but It's easy to get choked by your own belt at the end of the day Greg bit his tongue clean out his mouth jerking off last night. I'd feel bad but we all knew it would happen one day
landmark 0
[first transmission]
the indefinite professor
Nihilistic Porcupine 