Pismo / by IKB

To-day I had fun! “Why do you hy-phenate today?” asks Mike. “Because it makes it more profound, more intense. Perhaps I’ll stop to-morrow, or when the morrow becomes the yesterday.” Oh!

I do it because I feel like doing it, maybe I’ll hyphenate to-night and so on. Am I walking on fire? Oh I’m walking on fire! Charming but to condescend is not to descend!

Yes, it’s all quite pretty, and I can be rather precious. “Oh to wit!”

Indeed. What is this chatter? tit for tat? Moreover, why is the floor spinning? Oh I’m watching ripples forming!

Ah. Enough! You must now take me for a lunatic. But before I begin to describe my quiet amusement of the day, I shall say this, which shocked me and pleased me, this droll discovery. I know why I say “One does this” or “One does that” instead of the customary “You do this” or “You do that.” It is a pun on my name! and by seemingly making every statement one that is generalized and includes the reader, I am simply excluding him. For, I might as well say “Juan does think” rather than “One does think.” It’s quite moronic.

And so, I had a fun time to-day. It was very pleasant, undoubtedly relaxing, in effect, energizing! I love how I have been able to expunge from my life the absurdness that is called normalcy and replaced it par un coup, or shall I say, a blow, by that which we call absurdity. An absurdity that borders, ever so dangerously, with madness. “Lento!” ”¿Cómo es así?” “Lent! que tu peux tomber, tu tomberas!” “But I want to slid-eeeeee …. slide!”

I took some fantastic photos! In one, I am flying, my feet abandoned the earthly prison of man upon which he treads, forgetting that to it, he will inevitably and happily return. Let’s not split hairs about it, such is man’s fate and he needs to accept it. Man must go to death with the grace of a god; a Greek god. “But what is all the hullaballoo?” “Don’t tell me, does this talk of death scares you?” “Yes.” “But death is as normal as life.” “How stoic of you!” “No. How Epicurean of me! But honestly, grow up!” “But…” “You are sick, you are attached to this nothingness. You rather will nothing than not will at all.” “Having fear of death is normal.” “I know. Did not Achilleus desire to return as a mean man, rather than be at Hades? But rest assured, you are alive!” “Indeed. How existentialist of you.” “Perhaps. Though I too am afraid, albeit, not of death.” “How human of you.” “I simply voice my thoughts.”

Such divagation! Such harangue. Blah! I shan’t bother! Blah! What a blasted bore. But, as I was saying before the relapse, the photos are quite the sensation! Ah alas, unfortunately my laptop is now on its way to California. “What?” “But how were you able to publish this?” “Thanks to a Pismo.” “Huh?” “Let me digress.” “I did not know I could have prevented this proclivity.” “Hurrah! You are learning.”

The Pismo … ah what monastic passion! The Pismo recalls everything that is danomatic. What I am about to tell, shall, I hope, demonstrate my pureness of heart! I once met this boy … I was new to all this … invertendess. Ah … I was so naïf that it makes me smile to know that I was so innocent. Why is it that man, in a state of intoxication says the things that he will otherwise not say. And why is it that only in a state of detachment am I able to say those things that I would otherwise not say? Alas, to him I was an ‘angel’ and upon hearing him refer to me as this, in his intoxication, I felt a chill travel up the lenght of my back. “Oh how cute he is. He looks like a 15-year-old!” he said extolling my purported youth and my angelic air, though I had nothing of that mien that one (hah!) can attribute to a messenger (pun!). I blushed, and fixed my gaze on the floor. I was not 15 years old, I was 19 years old and two months! Moreover, I was no angel! He pulled me close to him, his right arm wrapped around my shoulders. I could feel my small body pressed against his, feeding of his delightful touch that transcended his clothes and mine.

Later, we would find ourselves alone, his body, once again sprawled horizontally, his head resting on my lap. I looked into his eyes … I have never seen eyes like his nor shall I ever. His are what feed illusions. They were of the color of honey, like the eyes of my father. His eyes were ravenouss for Love. Oh! “I shall hurt you.” “Hmm.” I did not want to hear any more of this nonsense. I was a devout follower of Eros, I did not care about the philosophical argument à propos his age, i.e., was he the oldest or the youngest god? I was madly in love with this boy. I would see him every day and his puerile fashion, his free spirit-like nature would make me seem prudish and austere. He made me seem normal! Gad!

He had a bit too much to drink that night, I had some orange juice. I would not come to know alcohol until I was 20 years old, but that’s another story, sometimes we deny ourselves certain things for the sake of denial. We made our way upstairs, in itself a struggle for he has decided to let me support his weight. My arms wrapped around him, I would make a sigh of relief upon our reaching the top floor. I was also distressed, for upon freeing my body from the burden, my body ached and craved his touch. The room was dark and I set about setting up our sleeping arrangements. I had no way of getting home; it was too late to take the train back home. He then proceeded to take off his clothes; he only retained his underwear. I blushed instantly. We got in bed and he wrapped his body around mine, caressing the back of my neck. I bit my lower lip and wanted to laugh for joy. It was perfect. I was immensely happy. To-night I would not abandon my body and travel to another place, no, I would stay in my body while I slept, so that I could be with him completely. I love him so! (present tense)

So, as I was saying, the Pismo reminds me of everything that is danomatic. So, as I find myself using a Pismo again, I find myself smiling and rejoycing at the fact that I met him, loved him (though I still love him and speak highly of him) and then let go of him consciously.

I can recall how he’d hover over his Pismo. So as I hover over my Pismo, I am transported to all these wonderful memories that are a part of me, that made me go for a long hike only to conclude it by taking a whole series of lunatic photos where I even smile! Good times!

Thus, for the time being, the Pismo is my computer though it lacks all the programmes and other attributes that my laptop is divinely endowed with. I don’t have iPhoto so I cannot share these photos … but upon its return, i.e., of my laptop, I shall post the photos with alacrity and celerity. For now, I say goodbye, for I have divulged too much of myself, of my moments of ecstasy.