The Pauly Shore diatribe
Hotel room, night – decadent wallpaper and encrusted carpet intermesh at obtuse angles – flies in vibrant coitus encircle luminance – putrefaction languishes upon a slowly multiplying ceiling – a knock at door, then ambient silence – scrap of paper with retrograde hieroglyphics, translation does not match clown portrait – tells of the In The Army Now special edition DVD.
Streets lined with paragraphs of Kafka – the commissioner tells me that weasels have infiltrated the compound, “Fucking swine!” – he lies – weasels are known for their diligence at times of depression, the one I seek disregards the ‘the’ factor - moles and voles copulate on sides of buses in choreographed arabesque rhythmic swirls - “Fuck your linearity” shouts a lush worker from the top of a flaming crane, “Obviously overdosing on the pi equation” mutters a passer-by.
Subway – pure black seeking messianic conundrum – ants roam the carriage in constant fellatio – nightmare scenarios of bibliography – conceptualised badgers with psychosomatic appendicitis prompt transduction in all senses – vestigial rudiments of the Jeffrey Combs gland – I know the weasel is close.
Darkened street corner defined by temporal harmonics – dreams of the fallen shoelace, 1921 – mist with overtures of Brechtian drama – I’m tired, cupules of the intermeshed obtuse angle – pulsing cinema beset by whores and vagrants, signs inform of the 400 Blows, followed by Jury Duty as main attraction – I’m close.
Hieroglyphics scrawled with Nietzsche moustache speak of alley – promises of Promethean typography – dreams of mysterious azure figure prompting quest – “Hey buddddddy” – archaic principles of overcoat – “I’m looking for the In The Army Now special edition DVD” – cascading Bio Domes on ocular – “I have some in my van, follow me” – witness to remembrance of my time in the panopticon – I follow – “There ya go buddddddy, this one includes my commentary track” – rushes of the expectorate into the diencephalon - “cheers.”