Thursday, February 07, 2013

 
The Song For Making Water

-The old men ask the gods for a stronger stream.

-WHILE you’re...? Strange.

-Not to us. We chant or sing though everything.

-So if I walk through the village, I’ll hear...?

-Constantly. In the morning the young men.

-Bragging of course.

-How they destroy rocks with their peeing!

-Makes me laugh, who has to keep up potency in
all areas. With a young wife.

-Our elders would never allow such a marriage.
The young should be like an explosion!
And the old, together in gentle farting.

-Not yet.

-You say, but the gods decide!
(sings)
Life is heaven-sent.
Beg them to relent
if you dearly wish,

But gods have made the dish
already.


-Not much for you to know then. The gods handle everything.

-Why we‘re so happy!



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Thursday, January 31, 2013

 

Women Dialog Roles
 

-So in the old old model, the men hunt and the women
hang back to tend the campfires and the running brats?

-Correct. And then the triumphant return with the
bloody pigs! 

-And we enthuse over the tribal cheer. A great moment!

-There follows the ritual butchering.

-Anything involving the gods we’re naturally held
out from. 

-Also correct. But everyone sees the rightness of this.

-Fast forward to the Twenty First Century. Our Golden Age just barely started.

-Both parties out hunting.

-The Great Overgod of Commerce demanding it thus.

-The homefires cold, the children gorged with sex
and video games.

-Well, we nonetheless lead in one important category.

-Which is? (And I hope that verb excoriates with
its sarcasm.)

-Exhaustion.

-Amen amen I say to you that if only two women see
the light, and then two more, and then...!

-As I said: Exhaustion!

 

 

 

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Saturday, September 15, 2012

 

Study History, Anthropology etc

Thoroughly interested in how
they did it then, since we don't

really know what we’re doing
at present. Our doubt for now
concerns the endless rout

of so-cautious thought by
fatal happenstance. “O

if I could only get a breathing
space!” On that personal level,
it‘s not you who writes finis.

But without much adieu
we’ll all muddle through

sans your hysterical input.
Remember that before you
again do History.






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