nights like these, too warm & sauna-like, were supposed to be the best days of his life. critter didn’t feel like he was anywhere, physically or metaphysically. often it felt like his life was a film, but the conductor has fallen asleep and he doesn’t know that the end of the reel has come and past and the viewers suddenly blink back to the beginning of the film, disgruntled to find themselves rewatching the same bits from only minutes before.
it would be disorienting, critter thinks, to find oneself suddenly caught in the same loop of a single moment. this is one of those times. he’s been sprawled out in the deepest crevice of the steepest bowl for the better part of an hour, watching the skaters as they take the drop and fly around critters long body.
eyes are closed but a permanent sneer is on his face, very much trying to squint out the LA sun.
the hair along his arms suddenly stands on end, the conductor has suddenly realized the viewers are disgruntled.
it’s drippingly hot and critter is in jeans and a long sleeve shirt with some acidic band on the front, head propped up with his own board.
‘it’s rude to stare,’ he says with a grin, doesn’t even need to open his peepers to know that an intruder has found his way into critter’s kingdom.
he feels like - well, like a strip of beef jerky. his face feels like leather, lips are slightly cracked and his tongue is a dry sponge between his teeth.
‘i bet i’d make a bitchin’ album cover though, huh?’ critter peeks with one eye. but after baking in the sun for the better part of all freakin’ day, his eyes are hard to open. when they do manage to open, the stranger is just a shape against the sun.
who called us into this ancient, insane theatre
where we perform the propagation of our lust and
what did this kid know about album covers, he half-wondered.
his brain had been simmering on the horizon, elsewhere yet vaguely present, seeping into the space of blank verse with a moderately blank verse. it was late by the time he’d realised he was the one being spoken at or to. but he did hear what was said, and what he said back he said back nonchalantly. he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth to say it:
“you don’t want people to see you do this stuff?”
tipped off the ash with the end of his thumb, watched where it fell, and looked back to the pit for an answer.
discoholicmusic
romaincrisis
annaxmalina
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
snowghoul
titsay
origamiaround
