party_in_celebration_of_nobody_knows_why paste! Party in celebration of nobody-knows-why The party is for you, for something you did or caused. Your mother is holding a basket of knives. The pillars are traipsed with snakes. You can be yourself again: imagine a flat red road that leaves town. A bright red road. As you walk away from sight of the party area the red road humps into a small hill, it splits the pond to the left and right like embryos. Your bare feet stick against the curving surface. The figure of your innovative hidden side emerges from your comprehension of the current image, as if a single facet of you pulls apart from your body in strands. Now if you can just see the face of your innovative hidden side; its form, gelatinous and red, rising from the ground and the detail of it emerging, as in a triangle of currents, from your understanding of the scenario, so it looks nothing like your real face. This completion of a visual picture is fairly similar, yet fairly different to how the red road dissected the two identical ponds to the left and right. The ponds in no way are mirrors, for themselves or any onlookers. Your mother is far away and ashamed. You left your own party and you feel nothing. The bright red road is frosting which covers a dead whale floating in a pond. You catch up to this image, you take action by willing, by willing with your most supreme nurture, by instructing your innovative hidden side’s face to lick up the road with its tongue shaped like a lawn mower. Not too long from now, all of the road, all of the frosting will be licked away. After a while you realize that the whale is laying in a large area of highly compressed fingernail clippings, and not a pond at all. The surface reminds of sliced white meatloaf or sheetrock, but this is not your metaphor at all, but the idea of the entire perimeter of The Dead Whalewatchers Club, who, as a circle of thousands joined at the hands, all with strap-on high-powered binoculars, and really forming an arc with such a large diameter that you can’t see any of them, are not at all impressed with the tonguing motion that you managed to “muster up”, the tonguing motion that so boringly licked the frosting off a large dead whale. 010724 ... . . 040111 ... three words party_in_celebration_of_nobody_knows_why and_she_didnt_say_to_me spray_paint 060711 what's it to you? who go blather from