[NetBehaviour] Liquid dimples/Electric Boogaloo!

Lewis LaCook llacook at yahoo.com
Fri Sep 1 19:14:17 CEST 2006


  Liquid dimples  Webster's defines "Privation" as:
  What Mary must be missing is the time of smooth silence and sinuous glass;  light quelled for Autumn, Summer's riot brought to its knees and sighing,  sighing, sighing to be released. I'd sign anything she put in front of me, as  long as I could use your signature. Liquid dimples pepper spice, lying before us  indolently and secure; from somewhere else a light breeze coiled its hair.  Remember to shower, it says. Don't forget to re-attach the arms and legs of your  favorite action figures. What Mary needs to understand about the Kingbury Run  murders is that memory lets you pick stuff up, like cellphone convos or LMFAO at  RTFM. Just how much fun is Slinky, tumbling down Brady Bunch stairs  like the musculature of the serpent, just before Atari 2600 rats us out to  Homeland Security? I don't feel so secure, I'll tell you what. I'll tell you  what Mary needs, or I'll start needing it too.
 Me, I'm missing the smooth cilia along the throat where laughter pushes that  stalwart wind. 

  

 08/31/06  Electric Boogaloo!  Webster's defines "Doubt" as:
  Teach me electric boogaloo, Don Juan! To Obiwan this string-dark dope, this  painful escape, this singing singed but blasted from tapping, and to hell with  Bing Crosby! Bio-Dome is from an auteur! Bound head to ass, dead AIDS  genomes, deepening with fiscal siphoning, or I must have gone home with children  unbeknownst of time, empire. You get 'em together and they make cameras to watch  one another around each others' things. Waist-deep asleep, Mary, smooth brown  soothing white, the Oracle ovoid with a round emptiness dangling from her mouth  as she snores, oh boy! I wanted to get away from music for a change. Did you  feel this shift into a major key? Gosh! Victory becomes civil when mornings roam  unimpeded through Volvo graves. Polite but impregnable, I'm lactating from pure  tattoos of the essence of objects; naturally, to pry Idea from Form. I'm a human  beatbox in the cave but I swerve between evolving and fumes! I'm a human beatbox  in the cave but I'm a virgin,
 too, when it comes to getting through  this.
 Wave your hands in the air. Swing them like you just don't care. 




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