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There was a guy there who had so much cologne on that it annoyed him and caused a headache, all at once, it was a ball of hell that smacked him in the nose and made his stomach suffer all in the same breath, and it lasted too long. He knew it would last too long and that was part of what sucked about walking into the room with the well-groomed prick who made it all happen.

So he ditched the room and curled up like the larva of something, and he refused to explain himself to concerned friends who poked their ever loving heads into that room.

Two mornings after, he walked out, finally, and found that dirt was pure joy on the parts of his feet that had been pointed at a wall from some bedridden vantage point for all of that time.

He thought only that cologne was somehow foul now.

Like vomiting a food as a child… That food was ruined.

And he never wore cologne afterward, clearly.

It never became common to run across those cologne pricks, so he didn’t become an activist.

He just knew he’d get a bitch of a headache if some cologne loving hipster happened by.

 

This worry dwindled across a stack of years and eventually he even complimented some bullshit fragrance that some prick had dumped on his body to protect against his own cartoon horrors, and the guy laughed and agreed awkwardly.

 

They both enjoyed a terror heavy run when they fled the idea of a large carnivorous chicken together. They both felt like they had made friends, because fear and meat were profoundly linked, and they saw it together exclusively.

They got pissed off at commas together.

They read books.

Never had enough napkins.

Nobody answered.

Nobody ever answered.

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slade



 

Slade     <–This is a link to the recording. Spoken word improvised over creepy music with my buddy Scott. I had done cable for someone named “Slade Savage”, and he had offered me a piece of pizza during the job… I told him I’d have a piece after my work, but it took a while and I left without hearing about the pizza again… The name “Slade” seemed perfect for a Tsmarg Phaum.




 

Slade.
Slade give me
A piece of that pizza

but Slade
You should have given it to me sooner…

Slade..

Why…

Slade….

Why did I?

Have to ask YOU
for a piece of that fucking pizza!
Slade?

I shouldn’t have to ask you for a piece of your fucking pizza!

Slade…

Remember?

We are brothers
We share everything
And that’s why you should’nt be angry about Melissa

but Slade…

aha!

why dont you meet me at dominoes later

come on down to dominoes slade

I’ll give you a slice of something…
I’ll give you a slice of Melissa

slade

I’m serious now
I didnt mean it
and I am sorry about Melissa
slade
have you ever wondered about your mother and your father
and what they must have been thinking when they named you slade

I dont think about shit like that anymore
cuz you didnt give me a pice of your fucking pizza

I’m taking Melissa back to the cuttingboard
and I am going to offer you up a slice of your thigh
and I’m going to mail your head to your mother

slade slade

and I’m going to mail her hands and feet to your father
slade
slade

SLADE.

You should have given me a piece of that fucking pizza.

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Tsmarg Phaum: William

Ham.

Ham.

—-

William.

William?

Meet me by the barn.

We’ve got to bury something together.

 

Get a note from your doctor if you must…but meet me by the barn William.

We’ve got to bury something together.

 

 

Bring your cousin!

I’ve got to talk with your cousin too William.

 

But guarantee me that you’ll leave Laura home…

Tell her you’ll be back in time for dinner

But leave Laura at home William… meet me by the barn tonight… and bring your cousin with you.

Did you get that William!?

 

By the fucking barn.

We’ve got to bury something, and I need you to bring your cousin with you, but leave Laura home,

Leave Laura home all alone.

And tell her you’ll be back in time for supper.

—-

 

Please tell me you have a good answer William.

What were you doing at my house while I was at work?

Why was your cousin parked outside William?

Look around you William.

There’s no 911 out here at the barn William.

You lose it here, you’re in a world of hurt.

William, I’m going to cut your name in two.

 

William’s Cousin. Bring me that shovel. We’ve got to bury what’s left of William…

And if you don’t help me.

I’ll bury both of you fuckers myself.

 

What’s that you said?

What about Laura?

Well my cousin is at William’s house right fucking now… and cousin, we’re gonna take a drive.

Bury William

Near the barn

And take a ride with me to William’s house.

I’m going to show you what I’m doing to Laura.

 

TALK

WITH

SOMEBODY

AT THE GAS STATION

…try to tell them, but they can’t save you.

‘Cuz they think you’re a fuckjob.

‘Cuz you are a fuckjob.

And you aint’ worth killin’

 

—-

Laura.

It’s done.

Put down some blankets and we’ll have a fucking picnic.

But wait a few years(?) before we claim that life insurance Laura,

Don’t you watch Crime Shows?

 

….”Where is William Buried?”

I don’t want to tell you.

You must remain innocent.

 

 

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Weird Lighting

The lighting is weird on city streets at night.

That it exists is weird.

That it turns itself off and on is weird.

That it involves poles and miles of wires…is weird.

That innovation is changing all of these things, is also weird.

That all of our predecessors delighted in the early-model depressing

yellow lights is again weird.

And how weird it is that all of it just sits there next to us and alters

the region so forcefully and so stealthily,

We remember an asshole ranting, but if we examine the memory… we

remember a buzzing yellow glow, assaulting a conversation from the top

of a pole, and nobody said much.

It’s just that the light was weird.

We know that it would be best
to end Weird Lighting.

We must be passionate about ending weird lighting.

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Ham

The Jath Blog has not perished, it had to be set aside for the growing season. I do not grow, but people DO grow, and I would have felt guilty if I had been blogging away while my brethren were hard at work in the fields. 

Winter is coming, nobody will be in the fields.

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Love. It manufactures vehicles for Subaru.

Image

 

 

Subaru has a commercial where a guy shows up at his vacation home…. in a Subaru, and a little chocolate lab puppy jumps down out of the back seat and the guy chucks a ball and the dog is all happy and there is sun stabbing down through the lavish trees in just the right spots.

Then it leaps ahead a few years, using a bit of facial hair and some carefully chosen clothing to make the guy look like he’s about a decade forward. He has a chick with him this time, they smooch, and a  chocolate lab pops up and jumps out the back door. Same Subaru.

Then…it fucking…leaps another decade ahead. There’s a baby in the back seat, dude is dressed in Corporate Wear, his hair and shit is all ‘distinguished’ looking, the chick is still there, still lovely, and then an old chocolate lab hefts itself up and peeks over the back seat next to the baby, from the amazingly roomy hatchback going on in this timeless ass Subaru. THIS time when it cuts to the wide shot…you begin to understand that you can mount a fucking luggage rack on top of this fucker…but holy shit, there’s the same-ass Subaru, possibly decades down the road… Dude pauses to help the old dog out of the stalwart-ass auto…and the dad stops…with his lovely wife and their toddler bounding out in the carefully sunlit grass…and turns to look gravely at that fucking Subaru, the Subaru that saw it all… The Subaru that made it all possible. And the whole time there’s this sample from a piercing ass tune that sounds like ‘Life’.

I think that commercial kicks serious ass.

I got all fucked up and emotional about it over the past winter. I’d go catatonic when it came on, like the Desperado-Guy in that one Seinfeld episode. I’d be storming past the TV acting all focused and ninja, then I’d hear the opening twangs of that crazily sentimental little tune, snap to attention, and stare at the damned TV immediately, taking great care to force that single…”This guy is a Granite Statue” tear out the corner of my eye, and I’d snap out of it afterward and continue on.

When we moved in, the neighbors two houses to our right had a little Lab Puppy. I remember it ran over with its owner chasing, and I said “That’s adorable!” accidentally. Dude grunted and mumbled an apology and he never reappeared, I just see his angry pickup truck going in and out all recklessly… but the fucking puppy was cute, dammit.

So I went out on the porch just now, sat in the chair out there, and the sun was stabbing down through our mediocre tree in some spots…and I saw this fully grown Lab come confidently jogging out to their front yard and piss on their tree.

It’s like living here boiled all of the Subaru out of that commercial and revealed to me what the commercial was really saying.

Get a vacation home, grow a puppy, kiss someone, maybe procreate…but always run around chucking balls in the Sun!…

Love.

It’s what makes a Subaru a Subaru.

 

And here is a link to the fucking commercial, ‘case ya’ aint’ seen’ dat’ cah-mershal’ :

 

 http://youtu.be/5Wa_6g9WNgU

 

 

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