Drew Gardner

She came from the mountains, killing zombies at will. Some people cried “but that was cool!” and I could only whisper “we should NOT be killing zombies!” What have you gotten yourself to do? Did it ever occur to you that you may in fact hate yourself? I know I do . . . I’m not nearly high enough yet—and you’re not helping. My group got invited to join the Flarfist Collective, set up some hibachis and do what we do best, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t have so much of a problem with this writing if it were a library and I checked out the entire world as if it were a single book. Strike “helpful” off your list. The 4 th quarter gets pretty intense and the announcers are usually trying to figure out who is going to become overwhelmed by their own arrogant nightmares. It would upset the stomach of the balance of nature. I always go red over the stupidest things and I have no clue why. Whether it’s speaking in front of the class or someone asking me why I think I have the right to say anything. Why do I need an enemy to feel okay about what I’m doing? Observe yourself as you browse with sophistication through the topic of Authorship & Credibility. Why do I hate the surface of the world so much that I want to poison it? Why do I hate this so much? Well . . . you Hate Your Fucking Dad! Why is the screen so damn small? And why does the car turn so sharply? And why is the only sound I hear the sound of a raft of marmosets? BECAUSE I’m fucking ANXIOUS AS HELL about EVERYTHING. AAAAAAAAARGH . It’s even worse: “I’ll tell you later.” The medium is literally made of thousands of beautiful, living, breathing wolves. Why do I hate the moon so much? Unpublish your ideas in reverse. People hate any new way of writing. My girlfriend really hates it. There is not so much daytime left. Life is like spring snow tossing off mercurial Creeley-like escapes from life-threatening health problems. In summer we love winter in winter we love summer—all poetry is written in social mercurochrome. Since I hate the abridgement of life, a function of needing to please unpleaseable parents is more what this is about. Hate and love—if those are the options I just want to love and hate lobsters . The oddity is not so much that Blake held these eccentric views for most of his life, but that in modern civilization they not only extend the hand, so that it could not complain about complaining about something it hadn’t even bothered to read, and instead formed a halfway decent indie rock band. I’m actually starting to get much more interested in white people than I used to be. Why do I hate Flarf so much? Because it is against everything good this country once espoused. Why do I hate Flarf so much? Because of the awful conflict it places the law-abiding or police-fearing poets under.

Nobody sings about alligator eyes anymore, barely peeking out of the water, bouncing on the ground and rolling into the pond, leucistic. People think of traits, symmetrical fetuses giving orders from space, making playlists even as they’re being born. Things have come to eyes that gaze in directions we can’t think of. You are told by a judge that nothing new will ever happen. You lie to his face looking straight into the gaps that want to appear. Each night I count the celebrities. The silhouette of this long stretch of time where opportunities spark and fizzle like islet cells quickly eaten by bosses and strangers, nearly identical computer-generated faces, with smiling or disgusted expressions. It appears again, the farcical pulchritude, hobbits of caution in non-events first paying a visit to mitigators, then Mario, then TIAA-CREF. Can you escape an alligator if you run silently and glide into the water? People with happy faces and no luck at all, good or bad, jam the signal with a sickle.

Considering the frequency with which I take people’s words out of context, lie through my teeth and smear anyone who doesn’t hew to my philosophy of division and contempt, I’d prefer my candidate of choice to stay on the high road, but there’s a certain element of fighting fire with dilemmas, not just for me, but for any candidate. Is it more important to lose honorably, or to get into the gutter with your own particularity when so much is the answer? I love the pumpkin idea. I will definitely use that and I also plan on making the “kielbasa launcher.” I already have a guacamole rifle and it’s the same thing, I just need to figure out how to do it. If you have ideas for that please help. Also on the splitting heads thing they have that hydraulic wrench that rips the brain chunks out of the head you can do that so much easier just get the fishing line attached to the fragments and then fill a two to three liter soda bottle with sand and throw it in the opposite direction your life is going. To see the results of this oscillatory combustion phenomenon between the acoustics of the cavity and the pyrolysis of the propellants which were used in irreproducible ignition which I never liked much anyway. I couldn’t decipher myself. Too bad. I have typed out some abbreviated remains where my old life used to be, but I’m still living in them as if they were a book. I spent the afternoon reveling and wondering what I need to do to get my own sheep. I saw sheep herding and shearing, admired the baby lambs, and followed the “from sheep to sweater” interpretive trail.