Biography

I spent a year telling myself I should save it for later, that I was surviving my neighbors, that i would be alright if I just remembered to grip the taper and sip the vapors of the burning bible paper. After all, where there's smoke there's fire; but what i learned from putting the cart before the horse (of course) is that too much smoke makes it hard to see what stoked your ire. I finally got the hell out of Dodge by simply walking off the job, leaving the harpies of house and home to sleep in the bed they'd made for themselves.

Finally free, I met Mandy and put on a hot attraction via enfilading fire: I just kept shooting my load until the job was done in that shotgun furnace of a room, filled with sweat and stink and the closeness of camaraderie. In May I sucked up the flowery fragrance with both nostrils, let my fancy lightly turn. my grip loosened, the taper occasionally fell and voila! Autumn. The Fall came and I was still employed.

Sometimes I laid my head against the grey and chalky walls of my cubicle and wondered what it would be like to be buried underneath them; to be a stone column in my building 9 hours a day for 50 years and then to die at the end and have heavy slate piled on my head to hold me down. I would be more legible then, with my name and my death date the only thing left to tell about me.

Fear told me to live and so I did: that Autumn I found courage in cider and the time to roast pumpkin guts - found love in small titties and a big heart. I ate nuts and berries and Velveeta and beer and grew fat and hairy for winter, like a skinny bear with a slowly disappearing buttocks. Humanity joined me and no one saw us change like caterpillars in our winter clothes, no one saw our bodies under our stolen skins.