in Robert Anton Wilson’s quantum mechanical novel Schrödinger’s Cat, there is a recurring scene throughout that takes place at a party and bits and pieces of out of context dialogue from various conversations in the room mix in with the narrative, including one monologue (i think it’s being spoken by Simon Moon, but i don’t have a copy with me to check) that is either strongly garbled or drug-induced or both. a while ago, i was bored so i went through the whole book piecing together the bits of the monologue to see if i could make some sense of it. i still don’t understand it, but it is a beautiful piece of non-linear prose nonetheless:

Thee gauls simper at his tyrant power, He is ghoon with this seven-week booths and his mickeyed mausers into mistory. His eyes did seem auld glowery. Elverun, past Nova’s atoms from mayan builders to monads of goo, brings us by a divinely karmic Tao-Jones leverage back past tall chief tactics and aztlantean tooltechs to Louses in the Skidrow dimehaunts. This way the Humpy Theatre. Wet with garrison statements, oswilde shores, daily blazers, tochus culbook depositories, middlesexed villains and fumes. Fict! The most unkennedest of all. Fogt. Veiny? V.D? Wacky? His bruttus gypper. By loop Shore and Dellingersgangers, where yippies yip and doves duz nothing. to the hawkfullest convention ever. Upper guns thou wilt, marxafactors. A gnew gnu cries nixnix on your loin ardors [O my am I?] as the great Jehoover fouls his files [Seminole cowhand] with marching looter congs. What a loop in the evening, bloody fouled loop! Lawn ordures for crookbacked Dick, pig-bastchard of the world. See, it’s the stinking onion coop. Say, it’s the slimey deepsea doodler. By the wampum of capooney. O turnig on, Duke Daleyswine, lardsmayor of burning-town! They’ll chip away yore homohawks.

so I went back to bates for the alumni weekend this weekend. highlights included some batesie getting the tar beat out of them at a bar and going to the hospital (I didn’t do it), some batesie getting shot at (I didn’t do it), and someone tagging this idiot’s souped-up ford expedition with “soccer mom” in bright red something (I wish to hell I did it, but alas). I also got to even be in an improv show a little bit. I unzipped a portapotty door when no one was looking.

very tired right now. festivities didn’t end till about 5 this morning. I needed two complete breakfasts in order to get on my feet and drive home. maine remains a depressing place to enter, and a lovely place to leave in a hurry.

I got a kick ass shirt too. lebanon has absolutely NO second hand stores, and so I’m without a market for clothing. but I hit the salv army and got one of those funny shirts with the ruffles and all the extra buttons — they have a funny name in spanish, and are all the rage in cuba. so says daphne, who’s half cuban. so maybe that’s half right. in any case I own a shirt with 16 non-functional buttons now. I rule.

anders, I had no idea that Jimbo was your first roomate. makes me wonder if those people that are supposed to match up freshman year roomates actually do anything other than masterbate constantly. Jimbo’s not a bad guy, but you two? I don’t think so.

the pen i bought came with the following ‘helpful hint’ on the back: “when using any brand of liquid ink pen on an airplane, be sure to remove the cap with the point upward to avoid problems that could occur due to cabin pressure.”

pens explode on airplanes? cool. that is a helpful hint. next time i have to fly somewhere, i’m bringing about a dozen with me.

if you need close personal protection or any sort of investigation done and for whatever reason you don’t/can’t use the police department (i.e. you are unsatisified with their work/they won’t do it/you have little confidence in them/you just plane don’t like them) use my new employer Defense Investigators Group, Inc.. we cover 13 eastern states, as well as international operations (including germany) so do it today!!

(please make sure you are rich as hell first.)