Kafkaesque-Kindly, Music Hall-Mutation, Sphincter-Spit, Tintinnabulation-Tobacco

There is a long line of guide words that I chose randomly from a dictionary that I picked up quite a while ago, then vowed to write a piece with them, so, here I go, trying to begin in a kindly fashion as it seems that many residents in this country are not kind, at all, as of late. We may be in a Kafkaesque mode and have begun to transform into an intrusion of cockroaches, they who shall survive. Looking at these words I wonder about the dictionary from which they were plucked. Now I will say that I have no idea from where I took them, and none of my handy references hold these words on top of the pages as guide. Did I just make them up as guide companions? Am I a liar because of that? Perhaps I have spit that designation out of my mouth into, no, I am not going to say sphincter, though I just did so, spit out of my mouth into my own face. Unconsciously lying about taking them from some dictionary guide words may make me said liar, or I may have taken them from some spot in a library, or another world.

Mutation of mind, to take words from wherever and mush them together. Place those words on a stand in a music hall, a theatre and the story begins. First there is a tintinnabulation, until some mysterious audience members start covering their ears, complaining to their companions that the ringing is making their heads hurt, then the play begins: a man enters, stage left, and begins rolling some tobacco up into a thin smoke, he looks out at his own horizon, and starts his own story, “Liar. Yes, a mutation of some reflection. An unreliable memory. That’s what we got. See, look at this life, come with me.”

There is the beginning of some play, some story, some thing, a place in which those who seem to be full of anger, desiring change, wishing for power, grasping at anything that may come along, near or on the other side of the stage, meet and a story begins. We’ll see what happens, perhaps.